Riona Cousland | Hero and Queen of Ferelden (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
bryces_pup) wrote in ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png)
driftfleet2017-03-12 05:47 pm
bryces_pup) wrote in driftfleet2017-03-12 05:47 pm
Entry tags:
Eighth Blight - voice and action
Who: Riona fresh off her canon update, and you
Broadcast: Yes
Action: On the Blue Fish, if desired
When: Forward dated to the morning of 3/13
[She had just closed her eyes for a moment, weary from her journey and bracing herself for whatever lied ahead. Sand coats the lines of her eyes and nose, and the taste won’t seem to leave her mouth. Her breath catches in her throat, ready to verbalize her decision as to where they should go next-
When she opens her eyes, she finds herself not in the west, surrounded by desert and harsh sun, but in a little metal room, laying on a bed. The sudden shift startles her. She springs into a crouching position, kicking the sheets off of her as her hand instinctively goes for her sword or dagger or something.
Her mind reels. The sight of the room, the little trinkets and things that adorn the space feel familiar. Bits of memory jab at her: the odd mask stashed in a corner brings forth a memory of a drunken young man with curls, and Leliana’s knowing smile. Next to the bed she sees a shield propped up against the bedpost, and she recalls a grin and kind words. Slowly but surely, the memories begin to trickle back in.
The fleet. I’m back.
Or, well, awake, by all appearances. Shit, how long have I been out? She sits on the edge of her bed, rubbing her hands over her face-
-and frowning at the smudges of ink that rub off on her fingertips. Lovely. Just what I wanted to wake up to.
Her burst of annoyance is tempered by the sight of a plate with food next to her bed. She’s famished, and wastes no time in gulping it down. The fork clatters loudly onto the plate when she’s done. Pushing it aside, she gets to her feet, her balance a little unsteady as she takes a lurching step towards the door. But she pauses when she reaches for the handle.
It’s been, what, ten years? Yes, she was barely in her twenties when she last set foot amongst the fleet. How is she to face her crew, her friends, the people who’ve come to know her? The Riona they remember will not exactly be the one they see when she steps out. Their memory of her is fresh, while her memories of them are mixed in with the passage of a decade, muddied by time and the perspective of a young woman who didn’t know a damned thing. How is she to reconcile that?
Get on with it. You can’t hide in here forever. Clenching her jaw, she opens the door.
The ship is silent. She suspects most of her crew may be on the planet, or elsewhere. Wherever they are, she’s glad for it. She’s not ready to face them. Quickly she makes a beeline for the bathroom, and locks the door behind her.
Her destination is the sink. It takes quite a bit of water and scrubbing, but eventually she washes off Leliana’s little drawings. After she dries her face off, she looks up and catches her reflection in the mirror. It’s a startling comparison. Because of her time in the fleet, she can more clearly remember her younger self, and the differences between then and now are starker.
Her lips press into a tight line as she takes stock: the bags under her eyes, her more thinned out face, the hardness around her eyes. Standing there in that bathroom, faced with nearer memories of past days, she really fully realizes just how much the years have taken a toll on her.
She sighs; she knows there’s no hiding from this. They need to know she’s awake. And whatever comes, whatever they’ll think of her now, she’ll manage. She always has. It’s all she has.
--
After she showers and gets herself dressed into fresh clothes, Riona grabs her communicator and heads for the bridge. The thought of doing this in the galley leaves her feeling too exposed, and she’s too unfamiliar with the planet to go that far out of her way. The Iskaulit is a shuttle flight away, and Riona doesn’t want to look like she’s hiding. Merely, she wants to just… position herself as best as possible.
So she settles for her pilot’s seat on the bridge. It affords a nice view, and some quiet while she mulls over what she’s going to say. It’s been so long…]
[Once she settles on her choice of words, she flicks on her device. She sticks with voice for now, not wanting to startle anyone unnecessarily.]
It seems that I’m awake.
[To those very familiar with her, they may notice a certain rougher quality to her voice, a sort of coarseness that wasn’t there before.]
Yes, yes, we all know the questions that come next: what did I miss? Has anything changed? And of course, how long have I been out? [A pause. Her tone deadpans.] I remember this place. The natives thought sudden introduction to their water to be the best way of acclimating us to their home. [Assholes.] So, it couldn’t have been for too long.
[There’s a sound, almost like a laugh.] How this place makes a mockery of time…
[Time. It’s not a luxury she has back home. Here, though, she has it in spades. It almost disconcerts her. It feels sort of wrong, that’s how unused to it she is now.]
If you so wish to see me in person, I’m on the bridge on the Blue Fish. Be mindful if you do, though. [A wry, humorless smile stretches across her face, and it’s evident in her tone.] It’s been awhile.
[And with that warning, she shuts the feed off there.]
Broadcast: Yes
Action: On the Blue Fish, if desired
When: Forward dated to the morning of 3/13
[She had just closed her eyes for a moment, weary from her journey and bracing herself for whatever lied ahead. Sand coats the lines of her eyes and nose, and the taste won’t seem to leave her mouth. Her breath catches in her throat, ready to verbalize her decision as to where they should go next-
When she opens her eyes, she finds herself not in the west, surrounded by desert and harsh sun, but in a little metal room, laying on a bed. The sudden shift startles her. She springs into a crouching position, kicking the sheets off of her as her hand instinctively goes for her sword or dagger or something.
Her mind reels. The sight of the room, the little trinkets and things that adorn the space feel familiar. Bits of memory jab at her: the odd mask stashed in a corner brings forth a memory of a drunken young man with curls, and Leliana’s knowing smile. Next to the bed she sees a shield propped up against the bedpost, and she recalls a grin and kind words. Slowly but surely, the memories begin to trickle back in.
The fleet. I’m back.
Or, well, awake, by all appearances. Shit, how long have I been out? She sits on the edge of her bed, rubbing her hands over her face-
-and frowning at the smudges of ink that rub off on her fingertips. Lovely. Just what I wanted to wake up to.
Her burst of annoyance is tempered by the sight of a plate with food next to her bed. She’s famished, and wastes no time in gulping it down. The fork clatters loudly onto the plate when she’s done. Pushing it aside, she gets to her feet, her balance a little unsteady as she takes a lurching step towards the door. But she pauses when she reaches for the handle.
It’s been, what, ten years? Yes, she was barely in her twenties when she last set foot amongst the fleet. How is she to face her crew, her friends, the people who’ve come to know her? The Riona they remember will not exactly be the one they see when she steps out. Their memory of her is fresh, while her memories of them are mixed in with the passage of a decade, muddied by time and the perspective of a young woman who didn’t know a damned thing. How is she to reconcile that?
Get on with it. You can’t hide in here forever. Clenching her jaw, she opens the door.
The ship is silent. She suspects most of her crew may be on the planet, or elsewhere. Wherever they are, she’s glad for it. She’s not ready to face them. Quickly she makes a beeline for the bathroom, and locks the door behind her.
Her destination is the sink. It takes quite a bit of water and scrubbing, but eventually she washes off Leliana’s little drawings. After she dries her face off, she looks up and catches her reflection in the mirror. It’s a startling comparison. Because of her time in the fleet, she can more clearly remember her younger self, and the differences between then and now are starker.
Her lips press into a tight line as she takes stock: the bags under her eyes, her more thinned out face, the hardness around her eyes. Standing there in that bathroom, faced with nearer memories of past days, she really fully realizes just how much the years have taken a toll on her.
She sighs; she knows there’s no hiding from this. They need to know she’s awake. And whatever comes, whatever they’ll think of her now, she’ll manage. She always has. It’s all she has.
--
After she showers and gets herself dressed into fresh clothes, Riona grabs her communicator and heads for the bridge. The thought of doing this in the galley leaves her feeling too exposed, and she’s too unfamiliar with the planet to go that far out of her way. The Iskaulit is a shuttle flight away, and Riona doesn’t want to look like she’s hiding. Merely, she wants to just… position herself as best as possible.
So she settles for her pilot’s seat on the bridge. It affords a nice view, and some quiet while she mulls over what she’s going to say. It’s been so long…]
[Once she settles on her choice of words, she flicks on her device. She sticks with voice for now, not wanting to startle anyone unnecessarily.]
It seems that I’m awake.
[To those very familiar with her, they may notice a certain rougher quality to her voice, a sort of coarseness that wasn’t there before.]
Yes, yes, we all know the questions that come next: what did I miss? Has anything changed? And of course, how long have I been out? [A pause. Her tone deadpans.] I remember this place. The natives thought sudden introduction to their water to be the best way of acclimating us to their home. [Assholes.] So, it couldn’t have been for too long.
[There’s a sound, almost like a laugh.] How this place makes a mockery of time…
[Time. It’s not a luxury she has back home. Here, though, she has it in spades. It almost disconcerts her. It feels sort of wrong, that’s how unused to it she is now.]
If you so wish to see me in person, I’m on the bridge on the Blue Fish. Be mindful if you do, though. [A wry, humorless smile stretches across her face, and it’s evident in her tone.] It’s been awhile.
[And with that warning, she shuts the feed off there.]
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