[ action, video ] three of diamonds

[touchofrogue]

[August 9th. Rogue’s birthday. This year, like practically every other year since her powers had awoken, Rogue had the same plan: Tell no one. She will celebrate - or she would try to - without any reason given. It was so much easier that way.

She applies the dark red lipstick that traveled with her, and does her best to dress up as well as she could with what she has bartered for, and spends an inordinate amount of time on her hair.]

Okay, Drift Fleet. Talk to me. Who’s got some spare coffee they’re willin’ to barter for?


[After - hopefully, oh please, yes - attaining her birthday wish, Rogue sets about to basically make the rest of the day as enjoyable for herself as she can. She borrows a shuttle and goes flying for the joy of it. Sure, it can’t go very fast or very far, but she is in space. There’s some joy to be found just in being there. And hey, she heard shuttles can even go under water. That’s got to be amazing, Today’s as good a day as any to check that out.

She’s not necessarily looking for company here, but she might not say no? Later on in the day, though, she will be looking for company. Usually she spends at least part of the day working, but not today. Today is all about browsing, eating, and oh man, if she finds a place that plays music she might not move from there until dark. Feel free to accost!]

Later that night
[Late that night, Rogue can’t sleep. The echos aren’t in her mind right now, they aren’t psyches, they’re memories. They’re the people that she misses so much her bones ache. She decides to follow up on her own advice and goes for a run by the beach. It's not enough, so she starts a more rigorous exercise routine, dropping down to begin with push-ups and carrying through to shadowboxing. Will she manage to complete her routine all alone?

Whether or not she gets through that uninterrupted, when she’s finished she goes to the journals… no. journals were in Luceti. In Drift Fleet, she goes to the comms. This transition was harder than she thought, but she hoped one thing would hold true: that she wouldn't be the only one up and zero dark thirty.]

So. Augments. Upgrades. What are the ones ya feel are most worthwhile? Where do ya pour your resources into on your ship? Are ya happy bein' a pilot, an engineer, or whatever? [A security officer. Just say what you're thinking, Rogue, gosh.] If you could pick any one of them, what would you pick?

Comments

[touchofrogue]

[Rogue hated being cold. It came with bad memories, and was generally unpleasant besides.

She gave a flicker of a smile.]

That's the one. I'd be sorry ta hear if any universe changed it. Somethin' about messin' with somethin' that good just - seems wrong.

[She tentatively experimented with moving her head back off the wall, but that didn't quite work just yet, and she slowly rested it back.]

[tothefly]

[Natasha might not like the cold, but she's used to it. In her blood, she's been known to joke occasionally. But the damp, on the other hand, is unpleasant any way you look at it. Wet cotton clings to her chest, to her legs, and she shifts slightly, moving her calves in an attempt to make it slightly less sticky.]

Guess there's at least one thing we can count on to stay the same. That's something.

How's your head?

[Hard not to notice just what's bothering her.]

[touchofrogue]

[Well, there were three things she could count on to stay the same - at least in the existence of Worlds Like Theirs. She debated mentioning it, but wasn't sure she wanted to open that door. She didn't mind it, but Rogue remembered how adamant Natasha had been about being herself. She wasn't sure she wanted to open an uncomfortable, and potentially isolating conversation.]

It's gettin' better. [A slight shrug, one that goes down slower that it came up out of caution.] Like I said - bit of a head rush. Had worse.

[She paused for a moment, and then decided to go ahead and say what she was thinking. Better that, than to keep the conversation focused on her.]

I saw your post, the other day. Askin' if people wanted ta talk about what happened.

[tothefly]

[Natasha is fairly adamant about being herself. It's something that's surprised even her: normally she'd be perfectly happy to let people think she's whoever they want her to be. But here...here, she's stuck. Can't get away. And she's beginning to find that she wants to be the person she's made, and not...anyone else. Anyone she could have been, or might yet be. Anything she learns about those other Natashas just might hit a little too close to home. There are some truths she doesn't need.]

[So she doesn't ask, and does the same in return for Rogue: doesn't press. Not now, not yet. Maybe never, but that might be a little much to ask.]

They want me to be a counselor, I'll be a counselor. I'm not a bad listener, even if I'm not licensed. And it's not a bad thing to hear other people's thoughts on the subject. You have a few?

[touchofrogue]

Mmm. [Half a sound, half a shudder.] I thought it was nice.

[Simple, to the point - if not perhaps the point Natasha was going for. It had distinguished this Natasha, the one sitting right next to her, as unique. And she had thought it was nice. Smart too, of course. Good information gathering technique.

...okay, but seriously Rogue, was that all you were gonna say? You can't change the conversational topic and then not talk about it, that's not how these things work--

She gave Natasha a flicker of a smile, sharp amusement in the dark.] Didn't see much point, personally, in talkin' more than I normally would about talkin' more than I normally would. Still thought it was nice... for those who do.

[tothefly]

[Nice. Nice? Natasha arches an eyebrow as she listens, what's almost a sardonic smile curving half her mouth.]

Nice. The glitches, or my offer? I'd assume the latter, but you know what they say about assuming.

[But for some people, the glitch was nice, in a way. Cathartic. It had been that way for her, in part. Mostly, though, it just felt invasive. She didn't like the feeling of someone crawling around in her head. And yet it had given her a much-needed change of perspective on more than a few things about the last few months.]

[touchofrogue]

[A quiet huff of amusement.]

Your offer. For the record. Hate when they pull shit like those glitches.

[It is rare for Rogue to curse in conversation. She was raised very firmly in that manner, and has never really shaken it. Hasn't wanted to. What's the point of a curse if it doesn't have a punch?

She leans her head back against the stone wall of the dune again.]

Overall, though... had worse.

[tothefly]

[She wants to ask if Rogue means during her last kidnapping or at home, but they've set these rules now--no invasive questions, at least nothing too invasive. Not now, not yet. Not when neither of them has anywhere to go. This tiny space they have is fragile, as fragile as whatever rapport they're establishing.]

[So she doesn't ask. Instead, rests her chin on her knees and looks out through the cracks at the raging storm.]

You ever think maybe it's the same power-mad sociopaths running all these different kidnapping schemes? Or maybe they all just read the same omniscient-creep handbook, I don't know.

[touchofrogue]

Pretty sure it's just that creeps in general ain't that original. [Anytime people start thinking themselves superior, any time they start viewing other people's lives as... entertainment or convenience or as useful tools, their actions become astonishingly predictable. Perhaps not in the same exact manner, each time but certainly in the method, in the cruelty. Ugh and ick.]

[Thankfully, Rogue is starting to get a little bit warmer now, so she finally drops her hands from her arms.] But maybe you're right. Maybe they've started a club an' all sit around playin' Old Maid and drinkin' bad whiskey ta demonstrate their lack of taste an' sound judgement.

[There's an amused quirk to her mouth.] Like that old Dogs Playin' Poker picture. Except with Old Maid.

[That it's Old Maid is very important.]

[tothefly]

That's fair. I guess after a while all megalomania ends up the same place. Dastardly plan, damsel on the train tracks, mustache-twirling.

[She does grin at the idea of a bunch of theatrical-looking villains sitting around playing Old Maid, though.]

You're really not a fan of Old Maid, are you?

[If it's the game of choice for villains and all...]

[touchofrogue]

[Rogue smirks the satisfied smirk of someone who has had her snideness picked up upon, because Screw You, Malnosso, that's why.]

Just figure it fits, considerin' how desperate they are for certain kinds of entertainment.

[You do not even want to know how many times the Malnosso had made people fall in love for their kicks and giggles, Nat. You really don't.]

[tothefly]

[Well, that's a vague but menacing statement. Natasha thinks on it for a moment, looks over at Rogue, arches an eyebrow. The few conclusions she's coming to aren't ones she likes.]

We probably shouldn't give them any ideas. I think we've got our hands full enough, or we will once this "vacation" is over. Even with the augment glitches, things have been a little too quiet. Makes me wonder what they've got coming.

[touchofrogue]

[Rogue shrugs. She agrees, it's worrisome, especially coming at it from her background. However, she learned a long time ago exactly how much good worrying about what the all powerful megalomaniac psychopaths in charge would do was a giant waste of time and energy.

She's sure Natasha knows that too, sure she's just making conversation, so she responds in kind, casually and not really thinking about her words - in part the effect of the wind, the wet, and the cold, and in part just because she doesn't mind talking about what she's saying.]

Don't let it drive ya crazy. It'll probably be somethin' casually cruel or that they've convinced themselves is for their greater good. At least there's no war here I can see - wouldn't really fit in the genre, I guess.

[tothefly]

[War is nothing new to Natasha. She's been fighting one war or another as long as she can remember. The sides are nearly always interchangeable, the conflict usually irrelevant. What always seems to matter is the fact of the fighting, and it makes her wonder a little just why that is. If things like Atroma have a wider reach than they can imagine. It gives her chills.]

We've had strange ships attack the fleet before. Few months ago, before my time. But a few attacks aren't a war. I guess that could change. There was a war, the place you were before this?

[touchofrogue]

I heard about those attacks. You're right - it's not the same thing. Heck, could be a publicity stunt for all we know.

[Grumble, grumble. Not that Rogue isn't concerned about the attacks - don't get her wrong, but the whole thing just seems a little too neat to her. A mysterious fleet that appears out of no where, shoots up the fleet, and then runs off? Come on.]

...an' yeah. You could say that.

[It was strange. Luceti - the war there - didn't really feel personal in the same way other things did. It had been the facts of the place, it had... simply been her world, something all of them had to deal with together. It had afforded very little privacy with the horrors it had inflicted with the same casual malice as a hurricane. She almost wouldn't mind explaining it here - some of it anyway, the world, the war, not the specifics, but the... general nature of that mad planet.

It felt strange, because that was the sort of thing that she... should mind. She wouldn't like explaining about home, for example. But... she didn't. That particular lack of tension was evident in the way she didn't close off her posture at all. It was fortunate that Rogue didn't lie often - really, she'd be terrible at it.]

[tothefly]

The thought's crossed my mind once or twice.

[Because really, what wouldn't an audience like about a little surprise attack? The thrill of violence, ships in combat, not knowing if your favorite character or crew will make it through. She's seen how bloodthirsty people get over Survivor. How much more will a company, a thing like Atroma do for those ratings?]

[The other answer, as short as it is, is weighted enough for entire paragraphs. She's lived her own battles. She knows the sound of them. This isn't her place to ask, or at the very least not the time. So she nods. Huffs a little unamused laughter. Motions at the gale beyond the table.]

At least they gave us the tropical island paradise to enjoy first, here.

[touchofrogue]

[As oddly willing as she felt to talk about Luceti, she was perhaps even more willing to not talk about Luceti.]

Yeah. Shame they forgot about addin' in the fine accommodations [a gesture with her gloved hand to the table currently blocking the majority of the wind and rain] in their brochure. They're really missin' on a golden opportunity.

[tothefly]

Oh, obviously. It's absolutely rustic. People would pay extra for the authentic experience. [She snorts softly, then rests her chin on her knees again, looking out.]

At least it's weather, though. Four months of nothing but climate-controlled metal was starting to get boring. [She's always hated cages. What are ships and stations but another kind of cage? What is any of this, if not that?]

[touchofrogue]

Four months of that sure would. [It sounded horrible. She looked out at the rain, the bit of light filtering into their shelter.] Guess I got lucky, showin' up when I did. Hard ta imagine bein' shut up in a space ship that long.

[tothefly]

Guess if you're especially unlucky, you'll get your chance to see.

[Not that they're really all that unlucky. Staying here, it could be worse. Then again, it might be worse. Someday soon. And she's got no idea what happens when people leave. Do they go back to where they were pulled from, or do they go somewhere more sinister? She doesn't know, yet.]

You get claustrophobic?

[touchofrogue]

[That was a surprisingly complicated question. While Rogue was not fond of enclosed spaces, she knew the difference between 'not fond' and 'claustrophobic' since Ororo was extremely claustrophobic. And now that Ororo was so thoroughly integrated into her head...

There was a slight pause as Rogue sorted truths, trying to find both the best and the least complicated answer.]

Let's just say I'm not lookin' forward ta findin' out. Rattlin' around in a tin can with a bunch of strangers in the middle of the black ain't my idea of a good time.

[tothefly]

[It can be a complicated question even for people who don't have to deal with a second psyche in their heads. Sometimes people who don't mind tight spaces do mind close quarters. It's a different sort of claustrophobia, knowing you can't get away from other people, at least not for long. But Rogue's answer makes plenty of sense regardless, and Natasha can't quite help a little huff of laughter.]

Makes two of us. At least my crew's got separate bunks now. May as well be closets, but it's something almost like privacy. I can't hear Ray snoring anymore. And there's my office, if I need it. Which isn't that often, I guess. People don't seem too keen on talking it out, here.

[touchofrogue]

[Rogue thinks that they put in for that upgrade. She's not completely sure, but she hopes so. That kind of style of sleeping in one giant room just... didn't work for her, for any number of reasons.

And people don't seem keen on talking it out, huh? She cast Natasha an amused, wry glance in the near dark.] People seem keen on talkin' about things anywhere?

[Okay, no. That wasn't fair. Sometimes people really, really wanted to share. Even here. She wasn't sure if she envied them or wondered at it.]

[tothefly]

[Natasha hardly sleeps, as it is. Sleeping in a room full of four or five other people, with their own unique sleeping sounds and habits? Nearly impossible. That's why before they'd saved up for individual rooms, she'd been sleeping in her office. Not the best thing ever, but better than nothing.]

Oh, every now and then. If you ask them the right way.

[She's always been good at getting people to talk, a subtle joke in the words. But Rogue has a point. No one ever wants to talk about what matters. Honestly, she's probably one of the least inclined among them. But you learn how to talk without saying anything, after a while. Which can make it hard when you have something you actually do want to say.]

Or if you're new here. Fleet cast really, really loves to share with newcomers.

[A less subtle joke. Seriously, everyone seems to trip over themselves to give new castmates the low-down on life in space.]

[touchofrogue]

[A quiet, brief laugh.] Yeah. Seems like that happens, in places like this.

[Shaking her head at it, because she doesn't get it. But after a moment of reflection, and strictly to be fair... she tries to.] Ta be fair, guess... it feels like somethin' ya can actually do, even if it's just makin' other people's way a little easier. Heck, I'm crap at explain' things, an' even I've tried a time or two.

[Pause a beat, and then deflecting a little from that insight. She doesn't really think Natasha will get the mistaken impression that she would 'share' in the way they're discussing, all the same she shifts a little uncomfortably because of... well, the helplessness the whole damn thing implies. Only loss of control exceeds Rogue's hatred of feeling helpless, and perhaps in the end they were the same thing after all.] 'course, I was really bored. An' sometimes they're kinda cute.

[Another joke, a bit more open than she would normally be -- but Natasha does have that way about her.]