driftfleet | [open] bad dreams are made of these

Who: Koala and you!
Broadcast: N/A
Action: Huntress and Iskaulit
When: May 16th-ish. (Prose or action brackets both welcome!)

(Warnings for child abuse and traumatic dream stuff.)

Small fishing boat, it's on fire.

She wants to jump but she's not a good swimmer. Someone grabs her by her legs, holds her like a prized fish, and she flails. 'Got a live one,' Blurry Face says, 'This one'll make for a fine addition.' Dad doesn't call out for her anymore, because Dad is — wake up, wake up, wake up, open your eyes...!

Bright lights, classical music, Koala drags her feet. The stage is lit, hurts her eyes, she swears she sees her mom and dad sitting in the front row. Do they see she's scared? She just wants to go home. She's the smallest on the stage, and she sells for more than she's ever heard; she remembers thinking coins in a jar were pretty and shined like treasure, but it's really not a lot now that she hears the other prices on other chained people, some shaped human and others shaped not. Someone near her is dancing and performing on command, but they don't look like they enjoy dancing much at all. Mom and dad watch and clap and smile. Koala pulls at her metal collar and blubbers miserably, fat hot tears down her face. Why aren't they coming up to the stage and taking her back? She's not anybody's but theirs. She wants to go home.

She forgot dad's rules. His dying rule. Whatever you do, Koala, don't cry. They won't like it when you cry, she understands now. They see it as weak, annoying. But she can't stop. Why can't she stop sobbing? She never sobbed in the auction house...! The master, holding his ring of keys, steps forward and lumbers high above her (he shouldn't be here, he should be in the clouds, in his mansion with his family who refuses to breathe peasant air), and says sharply, 'I hate crying little brats,' and then he pulls his hand back at her and swings roughly and—

Koala wakes with a start, hand clutching the fabric over her heart and she shakes and pants and smiles wide impulsively.

Just the dreams, just the dreams sometimes. She touches her neck and finds it smooth, not buckled with explosives.

Safe.

Safe in a bed that is hers, in a room that is hers, in a crew that is not going to be cruel to her. And yet she can't cry about this. Crying for others is easy, but for herself — it's too frightening. She breathes out, forces back any of the burn in her eyes, and shuffles out of bed, still in the jumpsuit she wears as pajamas. She really should put her shoes on. Nobody likes dirty little feet on their clean floors.

She slips her shoes on, one at a time, and rises. She's not sure if others are sleeping for the 'night', because there really isn't a night, but it's undoubtedly not daytime on the moon, so people are more likely asleep than not. Instead she goes out and makes herself a glass of tea and a small bowl of food, and tries to calm herself with it. There's an uneasiness about her as she sits in the kitchen, hair a bit wild and sweat on her brow. But she slowly does calm over time, is slowly able to eat with a steadier hand. The adrenaline has tapered off, but her mind is restless.

Going back to sleep sounds scary.

She gets up and wanders aimlessly around the Iskaulit... anywhere, really. She doesn't want to go to the planet (it's dark! nobody should like the dark), but she doesn't want to be standing still, certainly. Some motion will do her good. Somewhere to focus, yes! She simply needs to smile and face her day, and remember that things are so very good. Remember, papa would like for you to be happy. Remember, he told you never to cry. You've already broken that, but... But! You can still be strong!

One can find her on the Huntress, or in her aimless wandering from bar to gym to garden to - anywhere, really, on the Iskaulit.

She is rather determined to occupy herself with what everyone else is doing.

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

[ It's early-- or late, depending on whether someone's actually been to sleep or not. Winter's just finishing up his routine in the gym when he spots Koala out of the corner of his eye. What really gets his attention is that she's a child; still a pretty uncommon thing in the Fleet. What the hell is a kid doing up so late? Not that there is anyone to really regulate 'bedtime'..

He stops his push-ups, frowning at her. ]

Lost?

[ What else would a kid be doing poking in and out of places like that? ]

[A-ah! She flinches at the sudden attention, and wants to kick herself over it.]

I'm sorry, ahm — no, I'm not, I just...! I was having a difficult time sleeping, but it's too dark to visit the planet. I'm so very sorry; did I trouble you? I can go if I'm causing you any discomfort.

[She sounds so very eager to make the guy content, almost as if she's afraid of lectures or scolding or worse. It's a tragic way of life, but she's been getting better, honest.

(and yet she's smiling quite intensely)]

No trouble, I was finished.

[ The smiling and almost insistent way she suggests leaving doesn't sit quite right with Winter. It's a little unnerving, like a learned behavior as opposed to natural instinct. He knows a thing or two about learned behaviors.

He stands up, moving to where he'd stowed his boots. ]

I don't sleep well, either.

[She flusters, but the smile remains.]

Oh... I'm sorry for that, sir. P-perhaps your pillows need to be fluffed properly!

Sometimes one gets restless with a bad pillow.

Wish it were as simple as a bad pillow. [ ... ] That's a good idea, though.

[ His whole life is eternal restlessness, but the fact that she's trying is sweet. ]

Thank you.

[She steps forward, summoning up some courage in the wake of this stranger's words.]

U-um...! Do you have frightening dreams sometimes as well?

[ He nods, sitting on the bench to retie his boots. ]

Usually more bad ones than good.

[She nods, though she appears to keep a distance. Out of a combined mixture of fear and respect, as if the two are really quite interlinked in her mind. She clasps her hands in front of her, smile more strained.]

I'm sorry about that, sir. But... But it helps that when you wake up, you find that it's all still in the past. A-at least. It hurts you now, but it's still back behind you, isn't it?

[He never said anything about things from his past being his nightmares.

... But it's because she is projecting her own problems on the conversation so very intensely, oops.]

[ That gets him to really pay attention to her. She's either more perceptive than he gave her credit for, or it was a lucky guess.. Everyone has bad shit in their past, though. Maybe-- ]

It helps. Even if you have to remind yourself where you are.

[ Hmm.. ]

Not so scary after that.

Y-yes. Remember where you are, and the person that you can be now!

[She smiles happily, though she blushes, a bit embarrassed at the admittance.]

I... I have a hard time remembering, but I know — I'm not a slave anymore, and nobody can hold a-any power over me like that again. I have friends who won't let it happen, who know who I am here — [She puts her hands over her heart.] and who will be there for me, so long as I'm there for them, too. So...

So I am safe here.

[ He frowns. She was a slave? Winter knows there are a lot of fucked up people in the world, but she's a kid. He's not going to pry into her past, though there are some similarities. Neither of them had autonomy, though they do now.

There are friends to be gained and a sense of life. It's going to be a damn shame if any of that is taken away. ]

It's hard for me to remember sometimes, too. It's a hard thing to forget about, but these people here help.

[She brightens a little, feeling more confident with Winter's genuine response.]

The people here... They really are amazing, aren't they?

Most of them, yes.

[ There are always a few people that are neither here nor there. ]

[Aha...! She's so pleased.]

I think you seem pretty amazing yourself!

[ O-oh.. ]

Hmmn. I'm not that great. But thank you.

I don't know about that, mister.

People always see you different than how you see yourself...!

It's good to remember, when you feel like you don't like who you've become.

[She would know; it applies to her more often than it probably should.]

That's true, but sometimes I think they overlook important things.

[ Things like fatal flaws, or why they shouldn't talk to a person like him. ]

[She smiles a bit more genuinely.]

Oh, but isn't that true for ourselves?

That we always overlook the important things about us?

I guess I don't know about that part.

[open] bad dreams are made of these

Iskaulit;;

Iskaulit;;

Iskaulit;;

Iskaulit;;

Iskaulit;;

Iskaulit;;

Iskaulit;;

Iskaulit;;

Iskaulit;;

Iskaulit;;

Iskaulit;;

Iskaulit;;

Iskaulit;;

Iskaulit;;

Iskaulit;;

Iskaulit;;

Iskaulit;;

Iskaulit;;

Iskaulit;;