Heron May mingle

[grandstanding]

Who: Heron crew and visitors
Broadcast: nope
Action: the Heron
When: all May!

[Birds of a feather mingle together.]

Comments

[grandstanding]

[Erik's hands sculpt higher in the air, and he glances to the scars that loop his wrists. Hardly the worst of it. Far from the best of it, too.]

The Fleet is less taxing. Both physically and mentally. [It has its particular problems, he won't pretend otherwise. So far one of the worst things about it is the lack of purpose. Once the more immediate offenses are discounted, that is.]

[reconstitution]

I understand.

[ He gets it. This place is stagnant. There's no purpose, no mission, no real sense of order.. it grates on his nerves more than need like to admit. Winter's not even sure if that's the programming talking out his own opinion. The two seem to blur together, sometimes. ]

[grandstanding]

However, it was nice to be able to take a walk outdoors whenever I wanted. [Another sticking point for him. If only they were docked at a planet that didn't require a mask just to exist outside.]

[reconstitution]

It's difficult being confined to the ships. Starts to feel like the walls are closing in.

[ The chilled halls and the small quarters don't help that, either. ]

[grandstanding]

[Erik's hands pause for a moment, his eyes unseeing, before continuing to mold the piece. They are confined. And he knows better than most how close the walls are, can feel them without seeing them. But that helps (he thinks - he hopes), that he can sense them and they're not mute concrete.]

We've been docked here for a while. Is that normal?

[reconstitution]

The pattern has been four to five week rotations once we reach a planet. Drifting between is less.

[ Winter thumbs at the pages of the book absently. ]

[grandstanding]

So there's still a margin of error, but we're close to this being an abnormally long stay.