Rogue (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
touchofrogue) wrote in ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png)
driftfleet2015-08-09 09:58 pm
touchofrogue) wrote in driftfleet2015-08-09 09:58 pm
Entry tags:
[ action, video ] three of diamonds
[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?
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?
no subject
[She isn't alone in the sentiment. And to an extent, Natasha gets it, too. You talk because it's all you can do. You explain because maybe this time when you say it aloud it'll make more sense. Maybe you'll be able to connect the dots, maybe your words will make perfect sense to someone new and they'll tell you, oh yeah, Atroma! Drift Fleet! Last season was great, Contestant X got a full recording contract and Y and Z are having their first child this month! Some confirmation you aren't going insane, that things really are as absurd as they seem. Talking is for your benefit more than it is theirs.]
[But then there's the fact that the talking has always made her feel like she's just rattling the bars of a cage. She hates the feeling that someone else is in control of her life, and every time she accepts the situation, voices it, she's accepting their control. And she just can't do that. So she doesn't join the welcome wagons, not really--only the occasional comment. And Rogue's, surprisingly, gets Natasha's eyes on her and a little quirk of her lips. A slightly knowing smirk. She may be frustrated, trapped, but that doesn't make her blind.]
Well, it would be rude to not make them feel welcome. [Ever-so-slight emphasis. Practically imaginary. But there.]
no subject
Wouldn't ever wanna be rude.
[Oh no. Certainly not that.]
no subject
Of course not.
[There's a moment of understanding, a shared joke, and it does make Natasha feel slightly better about being stuck in here. As...abrupt as their first meeting may have been, she finds she doesn't really mind the other woman's presence. Might even enjoy her company, under less forced circumstances, and at the very least she's curious. Rogue has demonstrated too many talents to not make her curious. But she's also been respectful enough, understanding enough that for now, Natasha is willing to let things fall as they will and not pry her way into answers. Instead, she smiles at the other woman, then turns her gaze back to the outside.]
Looks like the rain might be letting up.
no subject
And a flicker of a smile.]
Mmm. [Rogue glances out the tiny open space the table has left them and sighs with relief.] At least these storms don't ever seem ta last too long. 'Course, there could be another one five minutes from now...
[Mutter, mutter.]
no subject
Then I guess we'd better hope we can run fast enough to beat it.
[A spark of challenge in her voice, a flicker in her eyes as she looks over to Rogue. She's had enough of sitting still and letting the weather happen. Now...well, now it's just a little water. And a run sounds better than good. Maybe even a run with company.]
no subject
[Grumble, grumble, cold wet bleck boo.
Rogue shifts forward and puts her boots on the table in preparation to use her legs as pressure to shift it away from them.
Do not let the grumble fool you, Nat. Rogue's always up for a challenge. She tilts her head, invites Nat to put her own feet on the table.]
no subject
[Natasha's feet are only a second behind Rogue's in hitting the wood. She hardly needs the invitation--hadn't she offered her own a moment earlier? The reciprocation is pleasant, though, even if she's fairly sure Rogue doesn't really need the help. Not with how she'd gotten the table here in the first place. That doesn't mean Natasha isn't going to at least try to help. Bracing her back against the stone, she meets the other woman's eyes and raises her eyebrows.]
On three?
no subject
no subject
[Natasha's only got one hand to work with, but it's planted behind her, mirroring Rogue. At the start of Rogue's count, she turns to face the table, adding her voice to the other woman's.]
Two...Three--
[The table is heavy, but once their efforts synchronize, it's not too much trouble to push it out far enough for them to scramble free. The only problem is now it's wet and cold, the little body heat they'd built evaporating, and Natasha takes off into an easy lope for the ships, trusting to Rogue to follow.]
no subject
She stumbles a little, exiting their shelter, but then moves with an easy stride and measured speed to catch up with Natasha, not next to her, but angling lightly at her 7, just in case. It's more habit than conscious thought, that better positioning.]
no subject
[Natasha's had to work in all kinds of weather, had to figure out just how to not only survive in it, but thrive in it, move through the landscape like a ghost. That being said, it doesn't mean she likes it all--and this weather definitely goes firmly in the dislike column.]
[She can hear Rogue's footsteps falter just a little at the start, but soon they fall in line with her own, though she doesn't see the woman coming up next to her, or passing her. She just holds steady, behind and slightly to the left. A good support position. And again, she wonders about the woman's mention of war. Wonders what she's done to make that position look like it's habit.]
The Windrose is parked at the western end of the line. You can stop in and dry off, if you need to.
[The offer is made over her shoulder, voice slightly raised. Not much--it's not necessary. Just enough to be heard over the rain.]
no subject
Might just take ya up on that.