when were you happy? (open)

[travailed]

CHARACTERS: Beth and YOU
WHERE: here there and everywhere
WHEN: any day and every day
SUMMARY: open prompts for downtime. if you'd like something specific hit me up at pineappamatic!
WARNINGS: N/A! will update as necessary


i. hello, it's me

[Beth doesn't like the sensation of the mental link, like a lot of people. She feels like it's been enough time that she should be used to it by now, but she isn't. She doesn't mind people seeing into her head, though, as much as she feels like she's infringing on others' boundaries, or inflicting the tangled mess of her mind on them.

So, she's making a point to meet and get to know everyone. Really get to know them, the old fashioned way. Where people reveal information about themselves as they feel comfortable.

It's kind of a tall order, but she's trying.

It could be anywhere: in the rec wing or the nesting deck or just in a hallway. The ice doesn't need to be broken first, either; if Beth makes eye contact with a stranger long enough, she'll muster up the courage to break it herself, stepping forward enough to catch their eye.]

Hi. [Her voice is soft but her eyes are steady. She holds her hand out to shake.] I'm Beth. I don't think we've met before.

ii. push it

[On occasion, Beth can be found in the training wing. There isn't a set pattern to when she shows up; it's more that there are good days and bad days, and on her bad days she feels a need to be productive. She needs to be better. Stronger. She can't get complacent or comfortable. This place isn't any safer than where she came from, it's just a different kind of danger.

The thing is, though, she's small. And she's never had any sort of proper training regimen; most of what she knows is a combination of physical feats made in fight-or-flight situations and what people could teach her in the scant moments of spare time they could find back at the prison.

But she can start by lifting some weights.]

'Scuse me. [She points at a set of hand weights that they may or may not be standing in front of.] Can I get at those?

iv. choose your own adventure

[Hit me with a prompt of your own, or let me know if you'd like to plot out something else!]

Comments

[travailed]

That's amazing.

[She means it: the smile that splits her face is bigger than usual, a little awed. When it comes right down to it, she's still a teenage girl. She's still impressed by the same things.]

I was gonna say "I can't imagine what that's like," but I guess I will, if we ever— land anywhere. [Is that the right term? She's not sure.] Was it hard to adjust, the first couple times? Y'know, with the gravity and all.

[earthborn]

Yeah, there's always a couple of minutes of everybody bouncing around like assholes, the first time. And moving in micro-gravity is always gonna look a little stupid; you have to do this sort of skip-hop to get anywhere.

[She demonstrates with one hand, an odd kangaroo motion. It's not a very good facsimile.]

It's more normal when you're weighted down with gear. If we're ever in a position where you need to go out, I'll have your back. [The promise comes easy, and it's only after that Shepard realizes she's promised her protection to what is, ostensibly, a civilian girl. But it had felt so natural!] Tell me about yourself. Where you from, Beth?

[travailed]

[She tries not to laugh, she does, but it doesn't work; she ends up covering half her smile with her hand while she giggles. She's sure she'll look even more ridiculous if and when she ever has to do it herself, but for now it's funny to watch.

Shepard had been decently intimidating before, but Beth relaxes fast around her. She wants to say me too— but probably someone like Shepard doesn't need someone like Beth to help her with something like that. It's still true, though.]

Um, Georgia. My dad used to have a farm outside of Atlanta. [Her accent is very prim, and very southern.] So... we ever go anywhere you need a horse, I got you covered there.

[earthborn]

Hold you to it: I've never met an animal bigger than a dog, that I liked.

[She cannot possibly explain her reaction to the one time in her entire life that Shepard had encountered a horse. In vids and holo-dramas, they look so calm, and controllable. In person, Horses were enormous, nervous animals, who didn't seem to be fully aware of the placement of their feet. It had been terrifying, and as young as she'd been at the time, Shepard had never quite shaken the impression of horses as vast, implacable creatures, who would not kill you, but might happily cripple you without noticing, or even meaning any harm.

Reapers, by comparison, had not had that effect.]

So, you're a farmgirl. What made you join up here, then?

[travailed]

You make it sound like I enlisted, or somethin'.

[She hasn't had that much control over her life in a long, long time. If ever. She's not upset or offended by the idea, though, just amused.]

I wasn't living on the farm anymore, before. The world's— different, now. Dangerous. [That's the best way she can think to describe it without falling down the rabbit hole of "the dead walking."] I got attacked by... whatever it is that's attacking people like us, and the folks here helped me. And now here I am. It wasn't really something I picked.

[earthborn]

What, you think this isn't a war?

[It's a pretty calm war, by Shepard's standards, but she stands sure in the knowledge that if they're not hearing the casualty rolls, it's not because there aren't any. Cathaway is a merciful creature, despite appearances.

But Shepard can be quiet, too, listening through the gaps in Beth's story. She feels the crunching bone underneath it, eggshells in calcium white. She nods once, remembering-- well. Remembering the shadow of Soveriegn over a ruined colony, the dead walking, on terms not quite their own.]

You had a choice. Might not feel like it, but the option's always there. [To die. To join those who no longer have to think and fight and worry. Don't think Shepard's never been tempted.] You picked to fight. Own that.

[A companionable slap for her shoulder, for that sentiment, grim as it is.]

[travailed]

["War" still makes it sound halfway civilized, to her, which is more than what she's used to. She thinks it's probably bad that she can feel like war is any kind of civilized, but at least a soldier knows what they're getting into, most of the time.

Shepard's not wrong, though. Framed like that, Beth understands. Her shoulders jerk under the weight of Shepard's hand, but only because it's unexpected. Beth smiles up at her, though it's muted.]

No, I know. You're right. I guess I never really— thought of it like that, before.

[She's always known that choosing to live was important, a reflection of who she is and how far she's come. But she's never thought of it outside her own internal experience, and definitely not in any context that might imply she's any kind of warrior.]

I'll always keep fighting, though.

[She resolved that a long time ago.]

[earthborn]

And, that's why you're here.

[Her own smile is small, grim with memory. There's a shadow lurking behind it, not visible from the outside, but from Beth and few others, Shepard cannot quite hide it. Civilized peoples aren't the only kind who have wars, it's just that civilization's wars are meant to be less destructive, in ways.

It's when we stop being horrified, and are no longer surprised, that the world really has gone to shit. Shepard thinks maybe she should just be grateful that some things still shock her, even after so long.]

Back where I'm from, it's pretty bad. A lot of people didn't want to see how bad, until suddenly they couldn't anymore. [The memory of Liara's voice, in hushed horror at her terminal. Goddess. They killed themselves. Shepard sighs quietly.] One day they'll get me; can't keep dodging bullets forever. But until then, I ain't quitting.

[travailed]

[She doesn't try to talk Shepard out of "one day they'll get me," because there's no point arguing a fact. She's known that for a while now. It's only a matter of time before she dies, too, though someone like Shepard will probably last much, much longer than someone like her.

It still makes her sad, though, a cold, heavy weight in her chest.]

That sounds familiar.

[It's drier than she normally is, but people who didn't want to see how bad strikes a chord with her. (No one's coming!) She rubs the scar at the inside of her left wrist, a sympathetic reaction to Shepard's memory vibrating through her.]

But that's why you're here too, right? [She attempts a smile.] It's not really a good thing. But I don't think it's a bad thing, either.

[earthborn]

Eh, depends on the day sometimes. But I'm not looking for that last bullet anymore than anybody else, at least.

[Is an example of a lie. But it's a good one, and Shepard's used to telling it, and even more used to believing it. You can't look at truth all the time and want to go on. Somehow the thought of it plucks a string in her; Jane inhales sharply and turns more fully to Beth.

Enough of this melancholy bullshit, already.]

Hey, can you fight?

[travailed]

Yes.

[It comes out defensive. ("Fight" is, again, more of a precise word than what she would call what she can do, which is survive.) A beat, then she amends:]

Kind of. It's not like I've been trained, or nothin'. But I know how to protect myself. I know how to shoot a gun. Back home you had to learn or you'd die.

[Again: no point arguing a fact.]

[earthborn]

[Shepard maintains a skeptical eyebrow until Beth relents.]

Well, that's a start. Do you wanna be? [Trained, that is.] And, what kind of gun we talking?

[travailed]

The gun I learned on was a police pistol. [She doesn't know the actual name or model. It hadn't seemed important.] But we had to use whatever we had. I've shot shotguns and rifles before.

[It doesn't take her much thinking before she settles on her answer to the first question, but she does think about it. She wants to take it seriously, if she does get properly trained.]

I want to learn. I wanna be able to protect myself, whether I've got a gun or not.

[earthborn]

Smart girl.

[Shepard puts her bulb of water aside, dusts the moisture off on her pants, and put them on her hips.]

Okay, how about this. You come here, every day. I'll teach you a little hand to hand, enough to get by, at least. Then we go down the range they have, by the hangar? [Some people might not realize that that's what that is, or maybe they never notice the door at all, too over-awed by the size of the room beyond, and the contents thereof.] And maybe we'll take you from 'getting by' to being actually competent.

[She sticks out her hand. shake on it?]

We don't need to just survive, we need to win. Unless, you just wanna keep doin' what you're doin'?