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station722017-06-13 10:38 pm
unfavoured) wrote in station722017-06-13 10:38 pm
( open ) D47 - D50 // around the station
CHARACTERS: Parker ( unfavoured ) and whoever.
WHERE: The Station; various locations.
WHEN: From D47 and D50, take your pick.
SUMMARY: Just a small town girl, living in a lonely world.
WARNINGS: Technobabble here and there, mention of discomfort and pain, not too gory. Some mention of suicide. Definitely unhappy stuff.
[ The duration of her coma has put a strain on her muscles - most importantly, the stillness of it has allowed the crippling pain to her spine to awaken. Without her caretaker, without someone to know how to relieve the pressure the biowires and metal bones pulling on her flesh and tendons, the EXO-8 inside her is a strain more than an useful shield. There is a reason why they were pulled out of production, after all. It's true that the symbiote could help relieve it, temporarily or not, but by now the older Hosts are aware of her still on-going refusal of joining the Nest, even for a second.
So, she endures. There are painkillers on the medbay, but that's only a temporary solution for a long term problem.
( 01.A ) It's during the evenings that it hurts the most, when she is trying to sleep. When there is no possible position for her to lay down on without feeling like every tendon, every nerve, is being tugged, pulled apart, rewired, adjusted. Without feeling it so fully, the way they pull on skin and tendons to adjust the weight of an overdue reset. She lays awake, changing from fetal position to curled every minute, clenching around herself. She does not sleep in their assigned rooms, instead choosing to sleep anywhere else, which means a late sleeper could walk on her, under the benches of the training wing, head pressed to the floor and shivering, or fallen off the industrial-sized shelves she seems to have taken a liking to in the hangar, gritting her teeth and bracing against the floor, holding in the cries of pain, ragged breath. Unusually unguarded mind sending the painful jolts and torn sensations in the smaller radius around her, even if subdued - it is not the full amount of pain that is being broadcast, but enough to understand that whatever's going on, it's bad.
( 01.B ) And even though she spends nights in restless toss and turn, the lack of sleep is not enough to keep Parker away from the Training Wing. She has been still for too long in her comatose state, and needs this to feel-- useless. Not that it works that well, not with the effort of the physicality of her moves, not with the focus ignoring the pain in her back. It's only a matter of time, then, when she plummets to the floor after a sudden jolt and her hands fail to grab on to the ropes she was climbing on. She falls about six feet, slamming hard to the floor and can't help the cry that leaves her throat, not from the fall but from the tense explosion of muscles in her back, and for a second it almost feels like it's being ripped off of her. Rolling on to her knees, she curls over herself, breathing hard through clenched teeth, raspy sounds turning her throat raw. She curls her fingers into the back of her hair, hunching over herself, and forces her eyes closed as if that would help in focusing controlling the pain.
It does not.
( 01.C ) So when she stops, when she finally stops for a second, she's exhausted but she can't sleep. She lays in the corner of a long, empty corridor, arms crossed over her face and doing her best to not give in to the scream that she wants to let go, biting on the sleeve of her shirt instead with her eyes intensely glaring at the ceiling like it was their fault. God, they could at least let her see the sky. ]
[ It's not likely she will admit to it, but she has now a favourite place aboard the Station. Of course, saying that she has one is pushing a little. Anywhere in this place is less than optimal, but she will concede to the fact that a pool is a good idea. For her, relief. The weightlessness of her body on water lessens the discomfort and pain along her spine, no longer bones but metal and wires, it following the long, surgical scar from the base of her neck down to the small of her back. The provided suit lets some of it visible, was she not floating around with her torso turned up to the ceiling - and with the scar bruises that weren't there before, recent and red, like stretchmarks, darker of serpentine paths of veins that are almost visible.
Bobbing on open water, Parker slowly opens her eyes to the glaring white, feeling the still water disturbed by nearby movement. She sighs, not exactly surprised, and slowly turns her head to the splishy splashy new companion way too close for comfort. ]
Can you not do that about ten feet apart from here?
[ It's not the pool isn't for everyone or whatever, problematic child. ]
[ Of course, if she can't fall asleep, there is always the bending over poitless files and records and try to gather information. She occupies a whole desk for herself, as if doing homework, one hand writing, taking notes on the small notebook once provided by prince with her pencil. She looks over some books, records, whatever, then goes back to scribbling.
She's quiet, very quiet - not in the sense of physical silence, but her mind. She's aware and awake, and so her conscious decision of keeping everything locked away under a barrier from her mind.
Parker only lifts her head when Helen stops directly in front of her, casting her shadow over her papers. ]
You're blocking the light. [ She says irritably, squinting at her. She can't recognize her, but then again, Parker seldom does the effort to meet anyone in the Station. ]
[ She will be easy to find by the pool now more, but that doesn't mean she is any less cranky. Other places are high shelves on the docks, the emptier corridors and, yes, hanging from tall places where people are less likely to bother her. Can often be found reading. ]
unfavoured ) and whoever.WHERE: The Station; various locations.
WHEN: From D47 and D50, take your pick.
SUMMARY: Just a small town girl, living in a lonely world.
WARNINGS: Technobabble here and there, mention of discomfort and pain, not too gory. Some mention of suicide. Definitely unhappy stuff.
(01.?) ❚❚❚❚❚ When our bodies melt and they will collide
[ The duration of her coma has put a strain on her muscles - most importantly, the stillness of it has allowed the crippling pain to her spine to awaken. Without her caretaker, without someone to know how to relieve the pressure the biowires and metal bones pulling on her flesh and tendons, the EXO-8 inside her is a strain more than an useful shield. There is a reason why they were pulled out of production, after all. It's true that the symbiote could help relieve it, temporarily or not, but by now the older Hosts are aware of her still on-going refusal of joining the Nest, even for a second.
So, she endures. There are painkillers on the medbay, but that's only a temporary solution for a long term problem.
( 01.A ) It's during the evenings that it hurts the most, when she is trying to sleep. When there is no possible position for her to lay down on without feeling like every tendon, every nerve, is being tugged, pulled apart, rewired, adjusted. Without feeling it so fully, the way they pull on skin and tendons to adjust the weight of an overdue reset. She lays awake, changing from fetal position to curled every minute, clenching around herself. She does not sleep in their assigned rooms, instead choosing to sleep anywhere else, which means a late sleeper could walk on her, under the benches of the training wing, head pressed to the floor and shivering, or fallen off the industrial-sized shelves she seems to have taken a liking to in the hangar, gritting her teeth and bracing against the floor, holding in the cries of pain, ragged breath. Unusually unguarded mind sending the painful jolts and torn sensations in the smaller radius around her, even if subdued - it is not the full amount of pain that is being broadcast, but enough to understand that whatever's going on, it's bad.
( 01.B ) And even though she spends nights in restless toss and turn, the lack of sleep is not enough to keep Parker away from the Training Wing. She has been still for too long in her comatose state, and needs this to feel-- useless. Not that it works that well, not with the effort of the physicality of her moves, not with the focus ignoring the pain in her back. It's only a matter of time, then, when she plummets to the floor after a sudden jolt and her hands fail to grab on to the ropes she was climbing on. She falls about six feet, slamming hard to the floor and can't help the cry that leaves her throat, not from the fall but from the tense explosion of muscles in her back, and for a second it almost feels like it's being ripped off of her. Rolling on to her knees, she curls over herself, breathing hard through clenched teeth, raspy sounds turning her throat raw. She curls her fingers into the back of her hair, hunching over herself, and forces her eyes closed as if that would help in focusing controlling the pain.
It does not.
( 01.C ) So when she stops, when she finally stops for a second, she's exhausted but she can't sleep. She lays in the corner of a long, empty corridor, arms crossed over her face and doing her best to not give in to the scream that she wants to let go, biting on the sleeve of her shirt instead with her eyes intensely glaring at the ceiling like it was their fault. God, they could at least let her see the sky. ]
(02) ❚❚❚❚❚ We hear echoes from another galaxy
[ It's not likely she will admit to it, but she has now a favourite place aboard the Station. Of course, saying that she has one is pushing a little. Anywhere in this place is less than optimal, but she will concede to the fact that a pool is a good idea. For her, relief. The weightlessness of her body on water lessens the discomfort and pain along her spine, no longer bones but metal and wires, it following the long, surgical scar from the base of her neck down to the small of her back. The provided suit lets some of it visible, was she not floating around with her torso turned up to the ceiling - and with the scar bruises that weren't there before, recent and red, like stretchmarks, darker of serpentine paths of veins that are almost visible.
Bobbing on open water, Parker slowly opens her eyes to the glaring white, feeling the still water disturbed by nearby movement. She sighs, not exactly surprised, and slowly turns her head to the splishy splashy new companion way too close for comfort. ]
Can you not do that about ten feet apart from here?
[ It's not the pool isn't for everyone or whatever, problematic child. ]
( FOR HELEN M. ) ❚❚❚❚❚ I can hear the sounds but they're all in reverse
[ Of course, if she can't fall asleep, there is always the bending over poitless files and records and try to gather information. She occupies a whole desk for herself, as if doing homework, one hand writing, taking notes on the small notebook once provided by prince with her pencil. She looks over some books, records, whatever, then goes back to scribbling.
She's quiet, very quiet - not in the sense of physical silence, but her mind. She's aware and awake, and so her conscious decision of keeping everything locked away under a barrier from her mind.
Parker only lifts her head when Helen stops directly in front of her, casting her shadow over her papers. ]
You're blocking the light. [ She says irritably, squinting at her. She can't recognize her, but then again, Parker seldom does the effort to meet anyone in the Station. ]
❚❚❚❚❚ WILDCARD.
[ She will be easy to find by the pool now more, but that doesn't mean she is any less cranky. Other places are high shelves on the docks, the emptier corridors and, yes, hanging from tall places where people are less likely to bother her. Can often be found reading. ]
no subject
In the spine. [ She corrects, and it's unsure if it's her attempt on humour or not, but she will never tell. ]
Listen, I'm trying to suppress it, okay? [ She figures that's why she's so insistent on making her stop hurting rather than anything else. It's not judgmental. If there's one thing she can agree it's that nobody has any right to inflict their thoughts and feelings on you, like this place seems to believe it's perfectly acceptable. ] Give me some time.
no subject
[ Because it sure feels painful, even if it's suppressed and a mere echo. She's still not leaving, not yet. She's going to keep pushing. ]
Because I'm not going to leave you alone if it might end up killing you.
no subject
She breathes in, breathes out. Maybe she ought to go float in the pool for a while as that helped. ]
Probably not. [ She decides to answer instead, the jolts slowing down only a little, still there, but not as intense. For now, at least. ]
no subject
[ Pidge's tone indicates just how much salt she's taking that word with. She takes a deep breath. How does she actually get through to someone who seems determined to keep throwing walls in her way? It's not even like Keith - Keith was just sort of awkward. He didn't actively hate everyone around him. ]
What are you going to do if it keeps getting worse?
no subject
With the jolts lessening, although still present, Parker manages to turn around to lay on her back. Her shirt clings to her body from the cold sweat sticking to her skin. It's too hot and too cold all at once. She makes a weird throaty sound, pulling her shirt up to uncling it from her belly, stomach moving up and down uncomfortably visible from her exertion.
Staring at the ceiling, she flops her forearm over her head, blinking slowly. The lack of answer stretches for quite a while, to the point it seems like she isn't going to give one. But one beat too long and she does: ]
No idea. [ She says, very helpfully. ] Just keep dealing with it.
no subject
[ Pidge's voice is flat. There's not really a sense of judgement; just quiet exasperation and irritation. And concern. There's concern too. Still, figures she's got her in her brood. Whatever that means. She settles onto the hangar floor next to Parker again and stretches herself out, head resting on her hands. She's going to wait. ]
...does having someone else around help with the pain?
no subject
[ She says, muffled as her arm flops over her face more. The pain is still there, but not so toe-curling anymore. It's a throbbing, pulsing thing now, but not one that makes her stagger and hard to think. She manages to pull her walls up again, even through the tiredness.
Sighing through her nose, she frowns. That's far too honest and far too complicated for her to dwell on. So, again, she offers a helpful retort: ]
I don't know. [ Closing her eyes, Parker tries to regain a normal breathing pace. ] It's just pain, anyway. I can deal with that.
[ The implication clear: easier to deal with mind-splitting pain than anything else mind-related in this place. ]
no subject
[ Pidge, you and your logic. She blows out a breath and glances up at the ceiling. She's still lying there, metal cool against her back. She should leave, but she's reluctant to leave Parker like this. Maybe it's the brood link or maybe it's her innate sense of fair play. ]
I know this whole thing sucks, but we should at least try to be on the same side. Right?
[ It's an olive branch. Sort of. She's still feeling Parker out. They've only talked... what? Once? ]
no subject
Parker frowns again, and this time the arm flops away from her face so she can turn to look at the kid beside her. She stares at her, eyes following Pidge's, as if gauging the seriousness of her statement. There's, again, that too long pause in between Pidge's words and her own, that eventually do come. ]
Should we? And what exactly is this side, Pidge? [ Oh, look. She knows her name. Amazing. Still, she sounds annoyed as she speaks, tired. Part of it from her not-completely recovered pain, part of it because of all that constant turmoil inside her chest. ] Did you choose it? Against-- what other side? Did you look for yourself? Did you see anything else other than what little they've fed us?
no subject
Our side. The side my friends are on. I don't know about the war they want us to fight, but... I'm here for me and I'm here for the people I care about. That's the side I'm on.
[ And ideally, she'd like to keep people safe. But she feels like she's blind sometimes. ]
no subject
Our side? Who's we? [ In that tone that please, don't include her in this mess. ] They've told you shit all and when you ask things, they give you cryptic fucking answers. [ She sighs through her nose again, annoyed. She is trying not to get too worked up but it's hard when when this subject is brought up on. It doesn't help that it feels like they don't even know or care to let them know because of some-- cosmic sense of whatever. And then, as always, she is just seen as a troublesome annoyance impossible to work with. She never did trust people who can't give her a straight answer; 99% of the time, it means they are hiding something. ]
I don't understand how you people just buy into everything without questioning anything.
no subject
[ Pidge responds with a snort of frustation, voice rising a slightly as she tries to get her point across. ]
Are you just not listening to anything I say? Because that's what it feels like!
[ Pidge, calm down. ]
I don't want to be here and I'd rather not be fighting their stupid war against whoever their enemies are and I'm going to figure out how to leave and go find the people that matter. But I'm also going to take care of the people who are here that are my friends until I do manage to find a way out! If that means I'm "buying into it"-
[ She makes air quotes with her fingers. ]
Fine. Whatever. I guess I am "buying into it" or maybe your definition just sucks.
no subject
Parker pushes her hair off her forehead, sticky and sweaty, quiet as Pidge has her outrage on. Not that she minds her being annoyed or outraged. At least it shows passion and a strong opinion, other than complacency.
She glances at her and then back at the ceiling. ]
Alright, so what have you been doing about it so far?
[ She's like the worst motivational speaker. ]
no subject
I figure that if we can figure out how the symbiotes actually communicate with one another, we can replicate it using some kind of manual interface or technological device and, uh, spoof our way into the Station's control center and figure out how to get us all back to where we need to be. And I've been trying to figure that out. I even went through one of the smaller ships to see if there was anything in the control surfaces that might help.
[ She frowns. ]
Mostly I've been trying to keep myself from getting complacent...
no subject
Her hands rub her forehead thoughtfully as they fall into silence. ]
Have you tried it?
[ That might be the closest she can say about it being a not so terrible idea. Again, Parker and words. Not a match. Swipe to whatever side is not it. ]
no subject
[ She's not sure entirely which one Parker means, so she wants to clarify. She recognizes Parker's stubbornness and there's something very familiar about it. Pidge is just self-aware enough to recognize that she can dig her heels in when she wants to (read: all the time), so it's not exactly comforting. But it is familiar. ]
no subject
[ She clarifies, pushing herself up to a sitting position. She drapes over her legs, knees up, holding her arms limp around them, wiping the sweat off the back of her head. ]
no subject
[ It's been a bit frustrating, honestly. ]
no subject
And then, finally, she makes a sound in the back of her throat. ]
Fine. [ She might be talking more to herself than to Pidge. Her next words however are directly to her: ] I'll help you.
no subject
Great. I'll let you know when I know more.