§ 1st Fairytale

[theoniongirl]

Who: Jilly Coppercorn
Broadcast: Fleetwide
Action: The Marsiva
When: Mid-day

[Action]

[there's no surprise when she wakes up. No stream of questions or panic or indignant disbelief. When Jilly sits up, she only has eyes for the massive bank of windows and the stretching, open expanse beyond. Her boots are almost silent as she pushes up from the cot and moves closer, just...staring. In a moment, she might notice anyone else awake and wandering around the Hospitality Deck and, eventually, she'll recognize the strange little communicator sitting on the table next to her cot. But--for just this moment--awe wins.

Once she shakes off the initial wonder, those on the Marsiva can find her....anywhere, really. Marveling at the view from the viewing bay, poking at the strange devices in the kitchen, or exploring the baffling maze of empty hallways--Drift Fleet has acquired one curious, tiny artist (just barely 5'0"!), and she's determined to see EVERYTHING.]

[Network]

[It takes awhile for her excitement to settle enough to sit down and check out the communicator, but that only makes her wonder return when she realizes that it feels...familiar. Christy had only just talked her into buying a home computer last month and she really hadn't done much with it, and yet she had no trouble at all finding the video function on this tiny device and switching it on for a close image of a pair of bright blue eyes. The image wobbles as she pulls it back to reveal a small-boned woman with a head of unruly curls (whatever magic Atroma used to get the paint out of the strands hadn't done anything to tame the tangles).]

Hello.

[She smiles, shaking her head slightly] I'm not really sure who I'm introducing myself too, but I'm Jilly. All of these messages...obviously the few of us on this ship aren't the first to show up. You can hear us, too, right?

[she has more questions, of course, but it doesn't feel urgent. For now she's just...curious.]

Comments

[onlyanapple]

[He listens, quietly. She hasn't told him this story but it... ]

That explains all the drawings, I suppose.

But yeah, I guess it's a little like that.

[theoniongirl]

[that gets a small laugh]

Well...I don't know about explaining anything, but they can be useful, too.

[the humor slips away quickly, but her smile doesn't. She hesitates only because she half-senses the covered wound and she doesn't want to prod at it. Still...it's a fairly important question.]

I'm guessing I knew your name...?

[and that he knew hers, not that he called her by it.]

[onlyanapple]

[A small, jagged piece rests in his heart. He doesn't show it, his face remains netural, but he feels it. This never, ever gets easy.]

Yeah. It's Crowley.

1/2

[theoniongirl]

[there are questions she could ask. By turns curious and wary, there were a million she wanted to. But she doesn't. This ground seems tremulous and uncertain where the threat of kidnapping and potentially evil TV overlords had not.

Her fingers itch for a pencil. It was an instinct when she felt her most uncertain or needed most to concentrate. She wants to know what she'd drawn before--see it if she could--to see if she could recapture something of this absent memory...but she also wants to secure this moment. It doesn't hurt her the way she senses it should, but it feels...important.

She didn't revel in pain, but she found no comfort in the idea that someone had removed it completely from her mind without her knowing.]

2/2

[theoniongirl]

[it's a longer pause than she means it to be, the silence a slow, pained heartbeat--and then she shifts.

He's seen it before, the sudden lightening of expression and body language in clear contrast with the moment before. It was a skill they both knew too well--that instant step from the real to the mask. With luck, part of him would recognize it as an attempt to move forward as much as it was a way to shy away from all the questions she couldn't voice just yet.]

Speaking of drawings...I might actually start believing this is some kind of torture if they gave us that view [her hand motions toward the viewing bay] and no way to do anything with it. I'm guessing an art supply store care of the S.S. Marsiva is setting my hopes a bit too high?

[onlyanapple]

[He recognises it, of course he does. More to the point, he respects Jilly enough that he doesn't press the matter further.]

You might find some in the nooks and crannies. Not sure if they redecorated since they had us all stuck there during calibrations. It tends to vanish in the morning, even if it is there. All that hard work, poof, gone.

[theoniongirl]

[that...was actually an even better response than she'd dared hope for] You mean...there might actually be one? So far it's just been this welcoming area and hallways, but there are a lot of them...

[faced with the prospect of a probably possibly hopeless search through a labyrinth of changeable hallways, and she sounds...intrigued. Fascinated, even.

There you go, Crowley. Your "demon-y" act for the day. You just gave her an exciting project for the week.]

[onlyanapple]

[Yay for him. ]

Hm. When we were there, there we lots and lots of doors to rooms.

[theoniongirl]

Rooms, I have found. So far, there hasn't been much in them.

[and maybe that meant it was all gone. But not necessarily. She could work with that.]

You were here a few weeks ago? Does that mean people can come here? [even if they, themselves, couldn't leave just yet.]

[onlyanapple]

Few months, and no, not normally. We usually only show up on the Marsiva when we arrive, we've only ever gone back the once. But during that time a lot of bullshit was going on with people's heads, so it was likely very different anyway.