Rogue (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
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driftfleet2015-11-20 09:11 pm
touchofrogue) wrote in driftfleet2015-11-20 09:11 pm
Entry tags:
.03 Were you dazzled by the same constellation?
Who: Rogue
Broadcast: Voice, Fleetwide
Action: Aboard the Marsiva
When: Tonight! Sometime after normal dinner hours.
[Bored. Bored. Bored.
Right, okay, so there was tension and so much suspicion and perhaps the ship falling apart and perhaps clues toward Atroma's past and specific directions to not look into suspicious circumstances (Ha!) but to bond with fellow passengers (double ha!) and real food and real coffee and actual sleep at night (vague or startlingly vivid dreams not withstanding, but... but it was like being a kid at the end of a long summer. You didn't want school to start up again. But Gawd, you needed something to do.
At least on the ship she had people to cook for, things to do -- same thing in Luceti. There was responsibilities, routine, some measure of purpose even if it was mostly self-imposed.
Here there was nothing except the blackness of space, the press of strangers, and of course -- all the mindless entertainment and access to punching bags a girl could want.
Rogue can be found making use of that punching bag, or flopped into one of the entertainment cubicles with a pile of questionable reading material beside her. She is clearly getting fed up with one of her favorite pass times - laughing at bad romances, muttering underneath her breath, until finally she makes a broadcast:]
Okay, if you're not bored you can just turn this off right now. There is absolutely no strategic value in what I'm going to say.
[She pauses a long moment and waits. Then continues:] But if ya are bored then maybe ya can relate ta wantin' ta lose yourself in a good book. Me too. But okay, I'm not sure I'm actually bored enough for this. [Rogue picks up a book and began reading at random.]
"Besides, friends don’t let friends drive drunk.”
“Drunk?”
"You’re intoxicated by my very presence.”
See, that'd be funny if it was sarcastic, or if she smacked him, but I'm not seein' it. An' then there's:
"I loved him with every cell in my body, every thought in my head, every feather in my wings, every breathe in my lungs. And air sacs."
Air sacs, people. Air sacs. Somebody's gotta help me out, I'm drowin' in this stuff here an' it's not even funny anymore. I either need someone ta come mock things with me, or -- I don't know. Has anyone tried pourin' soapy water on the floor an' goin' sliding yet? 'cause I think that might be my next step...
Broadcast: Voice, Fleetwide
Action: Aboard the Marsiva
When: Tonight! Sometime after normal dinner hours.
[Bored. Bored. Bored.
Right, okay, so there was tension and so much suspicion and perhaps the ship falling apart and perhaps clues toward Atroma's past and specific directions to not look into suspicious circumstances (Ha!) but to bond with fellow passengers (double ha!) and real food and real coffee and actual sleep at night (vague or startlingly vivid dreams not withstanding, but... but it was like being a kid at the end of a long summer. You didn't want school to start up again. But Gawd, you needed something to do.
At least on the ship she had people to cook for, things to do -- same thing in Luceti. There was responsibilities, routine, some measure of purpose even if it was mostly self-imposed.
Here there was nothing except the blackness of space, the press of strangers, and of course -- all the mindless entertainment and access to punching bags a girl could want.
Rogue can be found making use of that punching bag, or flopped into one of the entertainment cubicles with a pile of questionable reading material beside her. She is clearly getting fed up with one of her favorite pass times - laughing at bad romances, muttering underneath her breath, until finally she makes a broadcast:]
Okay, if you're not bored you can just turn this off right now. There is absolutely no strategic value in what I'm going to say.
[She pauses a long moment and waits. Then continues:] But if ya are bored then maybe ya can relate ta wantin' ta lose yourself in a good book. Me too. But okay, I'm not sure I'm actually bored enough for this. [Rogue picks up a book and began reading at random.]
"Besides, friends don’t let friends drive drunk.”
“Drunk?”
"You’re intoxicated by my very presence.”
See, that'd be funny if it was sarcastic, or if she smacked him, but I'm not seein' it. An' then there's:
"I loved him with every cell in my body, every thought in my head, every feather in my wings, every breathe in my lungs. And air sacs."
Air sacs, people. Air sacs. Somebody's gotta help me out, I'm drowin' in this stuff here an' it's not even funny anymore. I either need someone ta come mock things with me, or -- I don't know. Has anyone tried pourin' soapy water on the floor an' goin' sliding yet? 'cause I think that might be my next step...
action;
[ He winks at her. Truth is — there's no one, he's just happy it's thawing her, helping her relax. He was worried, after what the Atroma've done to them on this ship: tore open each other to see all the wreckage. All the people they carry with them. And all he feels with her is comfortable. She knows what he is, and she's still here. ]
It'll taste even better. Wanna help me with the crust?
action;
[Moving alongside him to inspect the ingredients he has for the crust, checking to see if there was a rolling pin about.]
Sure, I'll help.
[She... did think they should probably talk to him about what he saw inside her head. She still remembered what happened when he'd gripped onto Logan. But as for what she'd seen in his... she was just glad they'd talked.]
I can set up the ingredients.
action;
[ How anyone can say this with a straight face is a mystery — fortunately not one we need solve. Jim is grinning, radiating mischief. ]
I've got the filling done already. There's a square tin in the cupboard.
action;
Oh Gawd, Brooklyn, don't. Your Southern is painful.
[She moves to open the cupboard, takes out the tin and opens it, sniffing suspiciously. She is still not one hundred percent convinced that what Jim cooks will remain cooked and not blow up in their faces.]
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And yes. She'll be judging.]
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[She put the tin on the counter.]
Go on, let's see what you've got.
action;
[ because lo and behold, the finished product that comes out of the oven a while later is 100% tasty apple pie. ]
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[And then the smile fades, just a little. They have each been around, it was hard not to be in a place like this where they were so entirely stuck. But they haven't really been around each other since the dreams. She wonders if that's a thing that they need to discuss, but is reluctant to break the easy sharing of the kitchen.
So she just takes another bite of pie.]
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[ Not to her. There's so much relief knowing she knows him, and she accepts him. He didn't know how much it was needed until it happened, and he's glad it did. He's glad he could touch her and tell her how much he loves her. ]
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The proof is in the puddin'? [A spear of her fork nips some more pie.] Or the pie, as the case may be.
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This is boiled? Or new?
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[She misses fresh fruit and vegetables so, so much sometimes. The one good thing about this little social experiment has been the access to better foodstuffs.]
Thank ya. [Spearing some more pie with her fork.] This much better'n watchin' paint peel.
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[ Not that she would broadcast it; it's just an amusing mental image. ]
Makes for a good story, huh?
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Her draw intensified:] I will never wash this fork again!
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Mary Mother of God. That was terrifying.
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Aww, an' here I thought you were wantin' ta be appreciated.
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[She shook her head.] Gawd, that was just sad.
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No harm in a little indulgence.
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