driftfleet | voice

Who: Sorey et al
Broadcast: Yes
Action: Iskaulit
When: Shortly after drifting (late September)

.voice.

Hi everybody. My name's Sorey; I'm First Mate on the Huntress, but uh...

[He pauses. Sighs and starts over.]

A lot of people are missing. People we love. People who we don't know if they'll be back; there's a chance, definitely, a good chance, but that doesn't mean the pain and fear and the grief will go away. Sometimes, it even gets worse. The uncertainty is almost as terrible as the loss itself.

I'll be conducting memorial services in the Interfaith Center for the next week, every day at noon. Anybody is welcome to attend. It won't be anything fancy; lighting candles and burning incense, tea, reading some things from texts I've picked up along the way. If you don't want to come but you'd like me to say something for you during the service, feel free to leave it here. I'll add it to everything.

Also, if you'd like to come by just to have some quiet, or for a listening ear, I'll be here most times. There's an area where you can pray or set up altars or anything that you'd find more comfortable; we just ask that you cover up any symbols you make when you finish. If you need any help building anything, please let me know, I've got a shop area back on my ship.

Religious ties aren't necessary, either, and there's a meditation room next door if you just need some space to think. Please come by if you need anything.

.action. - Iskaulit

[Sorey can be found puttering about the Interfaith Center on most days during the current drift. He's usually in the kitchen, sometimes with Mikleo, as well as praying at the small elemental altar in a corner of the prayer chamber, separated from the lounge area by a curtain.

Sometimes he's curled up on one of the couches in the lounge with a book or a set of hand-drawn maps, frowning as he scribbles notes and erases lines.]

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

No, this is fine. I just need a place to put stuff down. And- you said there's incense? Can I have a stick?

[She kneels down in front of the altar, lifting her box to her lap and starting to pull things out and set them up. They're a bit odd- a juice box, a scrap of folded yellow cloth, a bottle of eye drops, a roll of white banding. At the end she draws out a piece of canvas, an inch or two wide and three times as tall, painted black with white Japanese lettering.]

[Sorey rests a hand on her shoulder before pushing himself up, heading over to a supply cabinet to rummage through for the incense. He brings over a holder and a stick, as well as a book of matches and sets them atop the black cloth next to her items.]

Do you mind if I watch?

No... I don't mind. I just need some quiet for a few minutes.

[Finally she pulls out her comm, poking at a few buttons before propping it up in the center of the altar, next to the black tablet. The edges around the comm screen have been painted black as well, carefully to avoid any ports. There's a photo of Aizawa on the display, probably not the best picture ever, most certainly taken at the subject's great reluctance.

Once it's set in place she lights the candles and the incense, presses her hands together, and bows her head to pray.]

[Sorey just kneels next to her, a little further behind so he's not distracting, and watches her set everything up before copying her and bowing his head, hands together. He's not sure who the man is; he doesn't remember ever seeing him on the network, but he does remember Uraraka mentioning having someone from home, her teacher, after so long without. If he's the one from home, and he's the one who died...

Poor Uraraka. Sorey prays just as hard that he'll come back, using the fire of the incense to focus and thinking of Lailah, how she'd teach him, comfort him, how she always encouraged his passion and prays that Uraraka will have that again, too.]

[True to her word Ochako is quiet and praying like that for several minutes, more still and silent than she's ever been in his presence, more than even that time way back where she'd clung to him and cried. It's different now; back then she'd only missed her family and friends, and had longed to go home, but no one had died. It was simply a matter of here versus there. Now, everything's changed. She'd been helpless, useless, and worse, just an obedient coward who'd left too early and abandoned him.

He'd scold her for thinking that. Jayden, too. And Sorey, if she brought it up here and now. Lots of people would try to set her straight.

It wouldn't change how she feels.]

Aizawa Shouta.

[Her voice is hushed as she speaks up at last, eyes opening, lowering her hands to her knees. Her gaze is fixed to the little shrine she'd set up, meager as it is. Would he appreciate it? Or would he say he didn't need something like that? It's not like it accomplishes anything. It doesn't even make her feel better.

It's not like he can say anything at all anymore.]

That's... that's his name. My teacher. He was... on the planet.

[Sorey is as quiet as she is, hands in his lap as he waits for her to be ready to speak. When she finally does, she doesn't look or sound comforted or absolved of guilt of anything, and Sorey can relate so hard his heart aches with the pain of it.]

He stayed behind, [Sorey murmurs, though he already knows. He'd tried to do the same thing.]

[She nods at first, her lip trembling, then ducks her head and shakes it instead, eyes clenching tightly. Don't cry again, don't cry. Enough.]

He didn't... we left him... we should've never left him...!

[Sorey automatically reaches to rest a hand on her back, rubbing up and down as he leans closer.] Uraraka...won't you tell me what happened? I'll just listen, I promise.

[She shakes her head again, unwilling for a long moment, but all of a sudden the words just spill out, like she didn't have a choice in the matter. She has to say something, do anything. There's never been a hole in her heart like this before.]

W-we were helping people evacuate... we were running out of time, but there were still so many. Sensei told me to get on a shuttle, but- there wasn't enough room for all of us. He said he'd get the next one.

[She can recall it with aching clarity- the firm resolve in his voice, the touch of his hand on her head. The way he and Jaden had-]

I wouldn't go... I-I wouldn't go, so he promised... I made him promise because I was being stupid about it, and we left him there, and he-he didn't...!

[She presses both hands against her face, her voice strangled with a sob.]

[Sorey can hear the echo of Gramps' voice in his head, I'm so proud of you two as they killed him, and he can't just sit here with his hand on her back like she's not in a pain even worse than the despair she'd felt all those months ago, crying quietly in a kitchen, alone.

Sorey turns and hugs her again, the fierce grip of someone who understands, her hands over her mouth trapped against his chest as he holds her. Not like a religious figure conducting services, not as a friend but as a boy who's also lost his guardian, who still blames himself for it when he can't help himself.

There isn't even anything to say. There's nothing he can say that will make her feel better.]

[Hugs aren't enough to heal these wounds, much as either of them might wish it, but they're both aware of that, and Ochako clings to him anyway, still resistance of the tears at first - because, god, god she's cried herself red so many times this week already - before she can't keep it in any longer. One thing she's learned since the meteor fell is that there are always, always more tears to be shed.

Sorey understands, she thinks, by the way he's holding her. He gets it. She wishes that weren't so, but the truth is there's no helping death. Even heroes fall. He died saving people- saving those left behind, anyone he could, saving her.

She's not a hero yet, so she couldn't save him. He'd probably say something succinct and biting, something to snap her out of it- to acknowledge her weakness, use it to build upon her strengths. What did you learn from this, Uraraka?

Nothing. Nothing, yet. She's not ready for this lesson.]

[It takes a lot of time; Uraraka clearly is tired of crying, but it doesn’t mean she’s done, and that’s another thing Sorey can understand. Sometimes there’s nothing that helps and all you can do is just try to hold yourself together through it all.

Sorey holds her until he can feel her push away a little and then he draws back. He stands, a hand lingering on her shoulder before he heads over to the cabinet and fetches some tissues, bringing the box over to her (and taking one for himself really quick).] Take all the time you need, [he says quietly, because grief doesn’t want someone always hovering at your side, waiting to hold you together. Grief is guilt and wounded pride and bleeding, blistering heartache, and just as much as someone grieving needs care and attention, they also need to be left alone.

So he leaves her alone with her teacher, with the scraps of his life she’d brought to honor him, and the scraps of her own his departure left behind.]

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