driftfleet | Video/Optional Action

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Video/Optional Action

Who: Celeste Blackwell and anyone!
Broadcast: Fleetwide
Action: SS Golden, p much the most aimless of wandering
When: Day(?)break Jan 10

[Celeste's arrival a day earlier was essentially passed in a whirlwind of cold shock. Everything was so wrong, so alien, and she was already riding a wave of grief following her departure from Eudio; she expected to see her dorm room, the not exactly welcoming but familiar walls of BIAPA, and instead she found a bloody spaceship.

She also found the truth, thanks to it being broadcast in a loop until she could hear the sound ringing through her head even as she tried to sleep, but it wouldn't sink in. This was wrong. It was either a mistake or a betrayal. By the time she was being swept off once again, apparently assigned to a more permanent lodging, she'd come to a decision: Eudio had until the next morning to correct this. If she didn't wake up back in the city or in England, then she had been betrayed and used and lived over half a year of her life in service of a lie.

She woke up (apparently she did sleep, although it felt like it couldn't have been more than a minute or two) in space. And that's when she broke.

Fellow members of the SS Golden can find her wandering the ship, but she doesn't look like she's getting her bearings: her shuffling around is more ghostlike, lost and distant, eyes perpetually red and swollen whether she's crying in that exact moment or not. Sometimes she'll open her mouth as though she's about to start a rant, anger flashing across her face, but then she'll just look helpless again a second later. She's lost so much, two entire lives, for nothing, and now she honestly can't find her way into starting this one. She doesn't know what any of it means.]

[Eventually, Celeste finds her words and settles on an emotion to guide her as she addresses the entire fleet. Her eyes are still rimmed with red, her face a bit puffy from crying, but her expression is hard and ice cold and her stare is furious.]

I've got one thing to tell you lot, and one thing only. [A quiet voice accented with the sound of middle-class London, rubbed raw from crying but taut with rage yet to explode.] If you're ever approached by someone offering a wish - I don't care if a genie pops out of a bottle or a fairy godmother appears in a shower of sparkles or a star comes right out of the sky or it's just two civil servant sorts in smart suits, any sort of person - if they tell you that you can make things right, you can fix all your cock-ups and get your life on a proper track - even if there's a cost, no matter if the cost seems reasonable and this all feels like a very fair exchange -

[The icy mask over her features slips for a second, and it looks like she might be back on her way to tears, but then it's back.]

- no matter how bad it is, and how desperately you want to believe - trust your gut. Wishes like that don't come true. There's no correcting what's already happened. You don't get that sort of second chance, not from anyone, for anything.

It if sounds too good to be true, it is. Don't let any false promise convince you otherwise, or you deserve what you get.

[She sniffles, then looks rather annoyed with herself at having given away even that much and closes things off:]

That's it. That's all I have to say.

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

That's fine.

[ Hera just waves her forward, towards the flight deck, and just behind the door there's a panel she's wrenched open, wires hanging out. ]

You're not the first person to be in this situation, and I'm sure you won't be the last. If you can follow instructions, you'll be fine. Hook that acceleration dampener to the green wire, just there.

[Yes, this is definitely helping. Focus, distraction, and a purpose. Part of her wants to lash out against being used - it's the single defining element of her entire life, being used - but what else has she got right now? Wandering around and crying?

So instead, she does as she's told, hands working slowly and carefully to avoid disaster on her second day.]

I wanted to go into space. There were people with spaceships. They were all grounded, though, for one reason or another. [Her smile is only an upward tilt of her lips, no mirth or amusement.] Funny, that.

[ Hera might get a little offended at the accusation that she's simply using someone. Obviously, the woman could say no - she's not being made to do anything she isn't choosing to do. ]

Lots of people want to - though it's a lot more dangerous than many realize. My name's Hera, by the way. Give that wire a yank - carefully.

[Those thoughts are all Celeste's, nothing to do with anyone else. It's a large part of why she's restraining her urges toward anger as much as she can, because she's still at least somewhat aware that she's upset to the point of being irrational.

Somewhat. The pain is nearly blinding otherwise.]

Hera. I'm Celeste. [No pleasantries, but her voice is warming a little. She sounds more present as she - well, probably doesn't pull the wire hard enough due to her confusion between "yank" and "careful."] I just thought it sounded like the most freedom you could possibly find, being able to travel across entire galaxies. Wherever you like.

[And that is even funnier, considering how she got here. But it's sure not ha ha funny, and she doesn't laugh.]

Nice to meet you.

[ She won't press for more details than that, for now. It's obvious the woman is upset - about being here, about not being somewhere else, something. But Hera isn't the sort to pry where she isn't wanted. ]

Try again. Freedom is usually contingent on having your own ship, but it can be pretty nice.

Yes, you as well. [At first it's a bit absent, but then she takes the time to make eye contact and offer a wan smile. It's helping, this, and she really does appreciate it.

But apparently that wasn't enough of a tug. She gives a harder one this time, but still keeps the "careful" in mind, glancing back for confirmation that she's got it this time.]

Rather than the ship being part of a massive television set, you mean. [Yes, Celeste, that's the punchline.] This certainly is the exact opposite of what I was imagining.

It's not what I expected when I woke up here, either.

[ She punches a few buttons on the panel, and nods to herself. ]

That'll do. But I've been in much worse situations than this, and made it out.

Is there more to repair? This is - well, it's something. Something to focus on, anyway.

[Other than the great, gaping hole in her which all of her life and love in Eudio once filled.]

I imagine it could be worse in any number of ways. [Things could always be worse. War, famine, plague, all of that.] I suppose I've never felt like I had any control over the situations I ended up in, good or bad. People put me here or there and I did what they liked and eventually it ended. Eudio...

[She swallows back another wave of emotion.]

... the city I just left, that's where I learned to make choices for myself. I even went there in the first place because of things other people had made me feel.

I'm sure there's plenty more that needs doing - I just got assigned to this ship, myself.

[ Which means she's still taking stock, still figuring out what needs doing to make sure this thing can fly as good as possible.

She listens to the other woman's story, no judgment, no pity. Just an easy kind of sympathy. ]

Taking charge of your own life can be hard, and decisions are tough. It's admirable that you managed it. Do you know what department you've been assigned?

I'm - [But she does know. She realizes it as she's about to say she doesn't.] Communications?

[Yes, all the knowledge is there. It's obvious what she's meant to do. She's just been in lost in this fog of grief, unable to keep hold of anything in her head.]

Communications. Shipboard?

[ Hera has lived a large chunk of her life on a spaceship, but a small one, not something with any kind of official chain of command, so she's honestly not sure what a communications position would entail. ]

Yes, I'm meant to... well, I'm fairly sure I know how to repair our communicators. Not in practice, obviously, but I feel like I could. And there's signals between ships, some sort of cipher ability... I think... it's all a dreadful mess right now, but it's there.

[Celeste looks at Hera a bit helplessly, because she's been the most stable and knowledgeable source of anything that Celeste has found so far, and even she doesn't appear to know what this means.]

Where on earth do you start, when you know how to do things you've never done?

[ Hera gives her a sympathetic look. It can't be easy, coming from a wildly different world to this - and having all kinds of new information implanted in your head without asking for it. It's thrown Hera off a little but it's not so far outside the realm of her understanding that it upset her. But she can see how it might for others. ]

Well, I'd say... take a deep breath, and find someone you can trust. Don't worry so much about what you know or don't know - it'll fall into place with some practice.

I'm not the most trusting person in the world. That second bit might be harder than it sounds.

[She doesn't say it with any kind of defensive edge. In fact, she almost sounds apologetic, because it's becoming more and more clear that people must need to work together and trust one another to get through this kind of situation and she's never been the greatest team player. She's never had the chance to try. Stumbling into deep, meaningful friendship had been hard enough in Eudio, with many painful bumps and missteps, and now even more is being asked of her without warning.]

I'll make do, of course, I haven't any other option. This is all just - [No. She's complained enough.] - thank you. You've been awfully patient.

I know. Like a lot of things, it's easier said than done.

[ She gives the woman what she hopes is an encouraging smile. ]

It's really no problem. I just like to help, where I can. If you need anything, all you have to do is ask.

Well... I assume spaceships probably have captains, right? Like naval ships? Or something in that order. That's probably who I should speak to next if I want to find out more about what I'm meant to do.

[It's a good sign. She's starting to think in this new framework and draw natural conclusions. She's not a slow-witted girl by any means, but the trauma of her arrival left her dulled for a time.]

Each ship in the fleet has a captain, yes, though uh, I think the criteria for being chosen are pretty arbitrary, if they exist at all. So who knows how qualified any given captain is for the position?

Oh, that is comforting. [She laughs, half disbelief and half resignation, because how qualified could anyone really be in a band of random people kidnapped from god knows where?] All the same, I imagine I should do some sort of check in with them.

That's fair enough. The nominal captain of the Golden seems to be someone called Anders, though I've never spoken to them.

Anders... [For the first time, her face truly lights up. It's a wild off-chance, with all the factors here, but -] ... is his last name Johnson, do you know?

I... have no idea what his last name is, honestly. Like I said, I've never talked to him, and the only name he's listed by on the crew roster is Anders.

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

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