driftfleet | .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...

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...is that some kind of rabbit?

[ bright, but brief, laughter. ] A dance, actually.

...riiiight. [That made so much more sense. Uh-huh.]

Well, I've got nothin' 'bout dancing. You'll have ta ask someone else.

Unfortunately, I fear its unfamiliarity as a style is all the answer I need on that front.

[...ah.]

Wanted ta see if it'd last? We don't do much choreographed dancin', in my time.

Damned shame, really. [ ... ] It's a fine step.

I'll have ta take your word on that. I'm [...] not really one for dancin'.

-- You must have danced.

[ soft. they're words from an older time, echoing from another moment. it had been steve she'd said them to, back then. ]

I did. Once. It.. didn't end well.

[ ... ]

Someone step on your toes?

[...heh.]

Somethin' like that. [Shaking her head.] It's a long story.

[Pause a beat.] My toes may never recover.

Odd. [ her smile can be heard. ] You come across as the sort of woman who might possess awfully resilient feet.

An' no sense of rhythm [shaking her head sadly].

Luckily, rhythm can be learned? Resilience, on the other hand... [ she sighs. ]

I suppose that's more acquired than learned, isn't it?

[ won by endurance. ]

No idea. It's all startin' ta sound complicated ta me. [A sigh and stretch.] I do know that I'm surprised ta hear that grown adults were doin' somethin' called a 'hop' by choice.

Grown adults can have fun, can't we?

Oh, fun, sure, yeah, fun. [Dramatic pause.] Hoppin'.

Some would say that jazz is the very pinnacle of fun: daring, uncertain, and improvised.

Oh, I've got nothin' against jazz music. It's this hoppin' thing you're describin'. Sounds disturbing.

So do half the developments Jim's been describing. I suppose it's all a matter of chronological perspective.

Eh, if ya wanna be all philosophical about it.

Difficult to be merely philosophical about a sort of time-shock I'm quite literally living thanks to all these jumps and mismatches.

...ah. Well. You've got a point there. [A wry smile in her tone.] Sorry. After five years of this stuff, reckon I'm a bit jaded.

After five years of this stuff, I reckon you're well allowed to be.

[A quiet laugh.] An' a few months in, I reckon you're allowed ta be findin' your balance.

audio.

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