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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.

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[He leans forward, eyebrows raised.]

This sounds like a fascinating story.

[Why you -]

Oh yes. [Her voice is sharp, bitterly comedic.] Oh, yes, I'm quite a story. One for the annals of history, I'm sure. But as the story is still ongoing, you'll forgive me if I don't appreciate having my back cover read like an airplane novel that might fill a few empty hours.

You can't bluster in here with a speech like that and not expect a few questions. Come on, now.

It is an unfortunate fact that what one wishes to be true is not necessary true.

[He's sympathetic, in his own quiet, serious way.]

I am sorry, for what it is worth.

[ Hera, on the other hand, is doing the exact opposite of aimless wandering - she's moving with purpose, a few spare parts in her arms, heading from the cargo bay. When she sees the unfamiliar face, though, she can't just walk on past. Not from someone who looks so distressed.

Hera briefly considers her options - asking what's wrong, showing concern for a stranger - and opts instead for cool and businesslike. She offers a piece to the woman. ]

Here, make yourself useful.

Well.

[It's a solid point. If someone unloaded a strop like that on her and tried to walk away, she'd probably grab their arm and demand to know more. It just serves to remind her that she's right back under a microscope, though, so her sigh is still as irritable as it is resigned.]

I suppose. It's too much to hope people would just accept my wisdom and move on, isn't it? Alright, the blurb would read something like this: A city that promises any correction to your life, or even your entire world, in exchange for a stay there and physical intimacy with other volunteers. A girl who made all the wrong choices and seeks to correct her life's path before it's too late. She'll learn to live, love, and have faith that good things can happen, but can such a promise really be delivered?

Spoilers: the answer's no.

That sounds absolutely disgusting, so! I'm not surprised!

[The solemn response takes her aback. Somehow, having someone respond with matter-of-fact kindness causes a much larger crack in her mask than effusive sympathy would, and she has to press her lips together for a moment.]

"Wish" may have been the wrong word. It was more of an exchange, and the other side doesn't appear to have made good. But - thank you.

I beg your pardon! Maybe a bit sordid, I did do it up rather like a tawdry romance, but disgusting?

'Come to our city and touch each other; we'll give you whatever you want'. Yes. Filthy. And also: immediately suspect.

What - is -

[She's aware that there is a purpose for her here - that much (along with knowledge that seems to have come from nowhere) shines through the fog of grief with a clarity that's almost alarming - but she isn't anywhere near capable of seeking it out and putting herself to work with her own drive and motivation yet.

As it happens, someone coming along and putting her to work is surprisingly helpful. It makes her aware of what a broken mess she must look, tweaks her pride back into place, and she straightens up as she takes the piece. Wipes at her eyes with a sleeve of her hoodie. The woman's appearance doesn't give her even a second's pause, only a flicker of curiosity, before she returns to her initial question.]

I mean - I only mean that I'm not sure if I can. I feel like I know a good deal about some things, but they're nothing I've ever done before, so I can't say why I know them. I've never even been in space.

I said anyone who would take it deserved what they got, didn't I?

[Anyone who knew her well would know that such a fast surrender in an argument was a sign of serious trouble. But no one does here, do they? She's a stranger agian.]

[He notices that it's a pretty rapid capitulation, in any case, especially given her apparent fire.]

'Deserve' is a heavy word. Certainly no one deserves to suffer.

[He spreads his hands.]

But that's not what the universe turns on.

But they do. We do. I think the most honest thing anyone ever told me was that life is cruel - just like that, blunt and to the point - and he'd learned that over a millennium of living. I might have listened a bit more closely.

[What the universe turns on? That just makes her laugh helplessly.]

Which universe? I've heard of loads by now, and the only set rule seems to be that they're completely different, except when they're the same. How is anyone meant to know - anything?

Yeah? Well, as another wise and ancient being, that guy can go fuck himself. Life isn't anything. It just is. The people who live it can be cruel. But they can be any number of other things, too.

Sister, you're gonna find you aren't alone in your multi-universal experience. The basic underpinnings all tend to be pretty similar. People exist. Sometimes they put in good things, sometimes they don't. Consequences result. But I prefer not to wallow in the muddy bits. Doesn't tend to help matters.

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.

[She definitely bristles at that, quite visibly, but she hasn't got the energy to defend Thomas. He feels more and more distant as she's thrown into each new life, and right now, everyone can honestly go fuck themselves. She's finally too tired to argue.]

So all that you can really control or know for certain is yourself. That's all you've got. [Her mouth quirks like she wants to smile, but doesn't get there.] No wonder I've landed in such a mess.

[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.

[He can see that, but he has so little patience for myopic 'the world is terrible and awful' thinking. She's distressed, yes, and has every right to be--but he can't let that kind of talk stand.]

A little fucking optimism helps, too.

[He gets this exact smile in return, in all its strained and absurdly fake glory.]

Is this better? Do I meet your standards yet?

I'm not looking to be impressed. Look: you're not where you thought you'd be. You thought you'd get what you wanted, and you didn't, and that's terrible. But the rest of us are just as stuck as you are, and most of us will be happy to support you.

You don't have to smile. But you don't have to resign yourself to nihilism, either.

[ . . . man. ]

Second chances are possible, but you have to find them on your own. There's no golden ticket.

[ zuko pauses ]

But it sounds like you've already figured that out... welcome to the Fleet. Are you alright?

[ 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.

[And there's a heavy dose of reality, with just enough kindness to get through to her and defuse any snappy response back. Instead, she feels dangerously close to falling apart all over again.]

I've lost everything. [Her voice has a little quaver to it now.] I had everything I'd ever wanted in Eudio, but I still wanted what I thought was rightfully mine as well. It's never enough.

[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.]

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