☮ ᴠɪᴅᴇᴏ

[delincuente]

[Alex sets up the camera to face her and her small room, which seems to have been filled to the brim with art supplies. There are canvases, small containers of her magically-multiplied paints, and a couple of dismantled easels she found in a junk shop, all piled on and against the vacant side of her large captain's bed.

She clears her throat, looking a little awkward, and gives a wave.] Hey. So - I've been thinking of setting up sort of an art studio, over on the Iskaulit. Like, a place where people can just chill out and paint, or whatever. Get their relaxation on. Art therapy, whatever you want to call it.

I don't really talk about this or anything, but I used to live in this really shitty castle with a bunch of our other pals here, and it did some awful stuff to me. So I got all messed up, and depressed, and I got through it there by just literally painting all the time. And maybe there are some other people here who need to do the same thing, just to keep sane and everything.

I got all the supplies I need on the station, and I can use magic to multiply and restock them. Just let me know if you think it sounds like a cool idea. I mean, I'll be doing it anyway probs, but... Yeah. Hit me up.

[She's never been good at normal, earnest broadcasts, and that's about all she can manage for the moment. She throws up a peace sign before leaning up to turn off the camera.]

Comments

[delincuente]

I mean, yeah, until you're sixteen. Then you can drop out and do whatever. I was at least going to finish high school, but after that - nada.

[beardstrokes]

I see.

[ He rubs his beard. Obi-Wan is only faintly aware of how schools function. He understands from a certain point of view, but he's never undergone a school system like that.

The last school he infiltrated tried to brainwash him. ]

So you've decided your future?

[delincuente]

I thought I had. [She gives a vague little shrug, tamping down any emotions.] Got a different one in mind now, since going home doesn't really seem like a possibility.

[beardstrokes]

Is it not?

[ Come to think of it, how do people return home? He knows people have left. Where do they go? ]

[delincuente]

I haven't seen home in four years. One of my friends hasn't in eight.

[beardstrokes]

And the people who do leave? Do they ever return home?

[ Four years. That's a long timeframe for this place. Eight, even longer. ]

[delincuente]

[She shrugs, looking a little uncomfortable with the question.]

No one really knows.

[beardstrokes]

I see.

[ That's not surprising, though he wished there was some certainty. Still, the Force seems to echo with the faint signs of hope. ]

I'm sure we'll know sometime soon.

[delincuente]

We did try to ask that Diamond chick about it awhile back, and all she'd say was that they were safe.

[beardstrokes]

Who is Diamond?

[ Wait. ]

One of the Atroma actually spoke to you?

[delincuente]

Yeah, her and her creepy Dick Van Dyke co-host. They Skyped with us back in October, when were all trapped on the Marsiva for the calibration shitstorm.

[She knows half of this is probably gibberish. So sue her.]

[beardstrokes]

[ Who names their kid Dick. ]

Did they say anything else?

[delincuente]

Nope. They totally evaded everything even halfway useful.

[beardstrokes]

I suppose I should have expected that. Thank you anyway. I've learned something new today.

[delincuente]

Hey, I'm always here to help.

[beardstrokes]

And I am glad to have had it.