stranger danger

[decommission]

CHARACTERS: Steve and you
WHERE: The Station
WHEN: DAY :050-52
SUMMARY: Open downtime stuff
WARNINGS: None yet



DUMPSTER DIVING

[ An intrepid explorer moves around the rec wing on some days, moving from one grey room to another.

(a. ) One morning he can be found in the library, hunched over a book. It's got a beaten up covering of plastic and a illegible label torn from the bottom. The title reads Treasure Planet, the author L. R. Stevenson.

( b. ) At a table that grows out of the ground, he studies an odd board game.

( c. ) That same table will have cards spread across it another day. They're about the same size as a playing deck with slight variations - likely because they all appear to be from completely different decks, as though someone had stolen them for this collection. Every single one of the seventy cards depicts a different version of a tower. ]

MENTAL FINGER PAINTING

[ He sits cross-legged on his bed, back pressed against the wall. Deep breathe in through the nose, out through the mouth. In and out. His eyes are closed, makes it easier.

While his body is silent, his mind is active, shields porous to let in a passerby without letting anything slip too far across the spidery links connecting them.

He paints a forest, tree by tree in dark greens and browns and the scent of pine. In the far distance the clack clack clack of rails invades the scenery, never far from the city.

He paints a park of flashing lights and amusement, ocean salt in the air mingling with fried foods. A young woman shrieks with laughter at her companion, a faceless child cries and tugs as his mother drags him along. Disconcertingly, the faces of the passing crowds are vague, unfinished impressions, their voices garbled together as background noise.

He paints a battlefield. Shoulder to shoulder, pressed against the crumbling brick - the image shudders and tears, leaving behind the unpleasant scent of unwashed bodies and blood. ]

(OOC NOTES: The second collection of prompts is open to anyone looking to practice mental powers. Feel free to come straight in and distort/add to the scenes. )

Comments

[unfavoured]

[ She looks behind herself as he points over the bookshelf, one hand on her hip. He can't see it, but there is a flicker of something akin to peacefulness on her face when she looks over the many books. She hasn't been keeping up with her reading, on the account of being in a comma. ]

Yeah, I think we've established we're both from Earth. [ She says distractedly, looking over the books that are there on that lower shelf. She's still going through the lone copy of Allegory of the Cave, probably out of irony's sake.

When she turns around, she has him holding the book out to her. She makes a sound that could be a thank you, but isn't, and looks over the slightly different cover. ]

Uh. Look at that. [ She hands it back, before taking the seat across from him. There's a beat. ] Where's your shield?

[decommission]

[ Not the same Earth. There's a flicker of disappointment when she hands the book back without much interest. He sets it back down in front of himself. ]

In my room. [ His thumb traces around the circle of the compass on the book's cover. ] Still working on getting the hang of it.

[ Holding the shield's no problem, it's the throwing that he struggles with. Whenever he's got it in his hands he can't help thinking that it's balanced for a guy nearly a foot taller than him, with a hell of a lot more power in his arms. He knows he's got to do better. ]

[unfavoured]

[ Well, she doesn't want to take the book from him when he's still reading it. It's rude and it might be the only polite etiquette Parker will ever show following.

She watches him silently, leaning forward slightly on her arms. The wave of pangs and metallic pain is deeply contained in her, but there's still-- a brush from it, like the sensation of a bug crawling on your skin but when you look at it, it's not there anymore. She pushes it further down every time she feels it coming back up, like keeping sickness at bay on a fast moving train. ]

Are you practising? [ There's a pause. ] Do you want to? [ She says, with a shrug. It might not be direct, but it never is with Parker, having to be read between the lines. And it says she is offering herself up as a practice point. ]