(open) catch all for downtime

[erbier]

CHARACTERS: Ilde
WHERE: Station 72
WHEN: Day 166 forward
SUMMARY: This is a catch all for the rest of downtime, whatever you want to put here please feel free to do so. I'm going to put a couple of prompts, but you don't have to follow them.
WARNINGS: Will update if needed.

EARTH.
Awake in the circle gardens, she can be found wandering barefoot in the kind of simple white smock they came to consciousness in. She checks on the plants as if visiting dear friends, first touching their stems in greeting, then bending down in the dirt to whisper to them. Every species is different, and there is no way that she knows them all, they are alien, collected from many worlds, but the best way to come to know them is to speak to them, is it not? She is all smiles, her presence in the garden like a mote of light, a warmth, that is easy to track as she moves throughout.

AIR.
Asleep in the circle gardens, she is not quite completely unconscious. It was unwise in the burned world to ever truly let down your guard. So perhaps it would be better to call her drowsing or daydreaming. She is listening to something that is not quite music, natural sounds that move through the encroachment and subsequent downpour of a rainstorm. She imagines it vividly, and should you choose to tap in alongside her daydreaming you too can feel the wet of the rain, see the many colorful birds taking shelter in the leaves of the garden... A soft whisper beneath the sounds of the rain is a poem that she memorized, the words winding like a trail of beautiful gems that lead to where she lies breathing peacefully in a secluded corner of the garden.

( Ah, with the Grape my fading Life provide,
And wash the Body whence the Life has died,
And lay me, shrouded in the living Leaf,
By some not unfrequented Garden-side... )

FIRE. -- Wildcard training prompt.
She likes the concept of ranged weaponry. She rotates through them when she visits the range, sometimes a gun, sometimes bow and arrow, sometimes throwing knives. It pleases her, the careful and meticulous execution of aim and forethought.

WATER.
She has made it as far as sitting at the edge of the pool, her legs dangling over the edge. The sensation is interesting to her, not merely the feel of cool water, but the luxury of being able to sit here like this, to take her time. There is something sinister about this collection of beautiful clean water, an utter irrationality that is hard for her to identify. Something about all those years bathed in fire has made her frightened to quenched within this glittering pool. A sigh. She pushes herself off the edge abruptly and lets herself sink, her mind going blank with it, sinking into blackness. She stays under a long time before finally resurfacing, paddling her way with slow inelegance back to the edge, where she crosses her arms on the tile, head down, and tries not to the think.

Comments

earth,

[inflori]

[ Unsurprisingly, he wanders around the whole facility, aimless and irritated because all the things they have to do will not amount to the energy that keeps being pent up along with helplessness. Petre feels useless, and the sentiment applies for the symbiote in his head and those responsible for bringing him here as well. They saved his life - so what? So did Diana, but with her came some kind of purpose and satisfaction. Whatever this is, it just gives him an itch that turns his thoughts into a screech-hissing creature at odds with the one they implanted when he came. Petre doesn't want to go back as much as he just wants to have her back.

He will grow to accept this, or something. At the end of the day, Petre doesn't actually care. He just wants something else, something more. Something will happen to let him realize that, with his newly acquired ability, there will be training and perfecting to do. Perhaps his first mission will come with another very real possibility of him dying permanently. Until then, all he really has left to do is stare at the weirdo leaning over to whisper and smile at plants. Fucking plants. What the hell, she's already lost it. ]

Am I gonna end up like you?

[ Spoken with the disdain of an utter child. ]

[erbier]

[ She straightens up unhurriedly, glancing over her shoulder at him. ]

If you dislike the scene, remove yourself from it.

[inflori]

Who said anything about the scene?

[ Petre, you know scenes usually require people to be in them. No of course you don't ]

You're the one acting weird. So, stop.

[erbier]

[ This is not the first horrible rude little child she has dealt with in her life. When all the children grew up alone, without parents, that acted however they pleased. ]

These gardens are mine now.

[ Anyone can argue with her, if they like, she won't recant it. ]

And I will do as I please.

[inflori]

[ He snorts, because that's just about the funniest thing he's heard since coming here. ]

They're yours?

[ And he takes a step forward. ]

Says who.

air

[decommission]

[ He comes here to rest for a little while after spending a good portion of the day in the training rooms. The smells and sounds of the garden make the Station almost feel less claustrophobic, even if the latter is artificial.

Flickers of her daydreams touch the edge of their connection. Reminds him, in an odd way, of catching the scent of someone cooking in the apartment below him. He doesn't pursue her thoughts, instead finding a space to sit in the greenery, far enough away to give her privacy. There's a beaten up sketchbook in his lap and colored pencils at his side, some of the sharpened down to nubs. He's drawing her flowers, a bird or two that isn't actually here. ]

[erbier]

[ His presence in the area does not disturb her, a surprising little blessing, and she remains out of sight dozing in the shade. She stirs at her leisure, the edges of that pretty musing dissipating, lingering in her mind for a moment as pleasant, but being disassembled and put away. The poetry fades as well, and suddenly the garden is its usual self again, no longer bathed in an ephemeral thunderstorm, nor inhabited by the phantasms of beautiful birds. Only the faint idea of a scent remains, ozone and fresh water.

But the leaves are dry as she parts them, following the thread of connection to where Steve sits. He did not interrupt her, so she does not interrupt him, merely coming to sit somewhere nearby in quiet, glance at what he's working on. It's colorful, and she's glad of that. ]

[decommission]

[ As she approaches he glances up, nodding at her in greeting and shifting a bit where he sits, laying down a blue pencil he'd been scraping against the heavy paper. ] You really do got a lot to work with here.

[ Her garden. Not as colorful as the one they painted together, but there's something to enjoy about starting over like this, with so much green. He ought to come here more often - and not just that. There's been no denying that her presence feels right. The side effect of their bond. A part of him understands that, if he let it, the connection between them could begin to soothe those raw, empty spaces left by the almost certain knowledge that he'll likely never return home (that he'll never know his friend's fate).

He doesn't know that that's what he wants.

He needs to remain himself. ]

[erbier]

Hm. [ She tilts her head, offering a nod. ] It seems I am always inheriting the work of another.

[ Her tone does not express that this bothers her, but it does in a subtle kind of way. Just another expression of how little control she has in her life, how she is passed around by circumstances to tend what is already there, never making anything of her own. Reading the poetry of others. Listening to the music of others. Watching the art of others. Fighting the battles of others.

She sweeps a stray length of soft hair behind her ear and does not think about that. ]

air!

[frakkincylons]

[ one of the traits sam had been slower to develop, after accepting what they were, was projection. the ability to develop your environment to your own imagination. he could walk down the streets of Caprica, or even of Earth. A field of wheat, or the shipyards and beaches of Picon. Feel the spray of the ocean, smell the salt on the air. And here, it's Ilde's mind that brings him back to that, and while he'd been laying out in the grass of the gardens, not far from her, simply basking in the peace of it, he's suddenly feeling the drops of rain on his cheeks, soaking his clothes. feeling the roll of light, distant thunder in his bones. A smile pulls at his lips, and when Sam's eyes blink open, it's to the falling rain, and soaked branches above, birds nested under patches of leaves, and Ilde not far away, quietly reciting. ]

You're warmer here.

[ Ilde has a tendency to be more cold and removed that most, even than Ren, who tends to be all fire and rage and violent wind. But even with the chill of the rain, and the somber state of what she projects, it's something closer to her heart. He likes it here, with his new sister, and the calm center of her mind. He presses outward, sharing the soothing peace he'd been riding, remnants lingering from when he'd been connected to everything, and felt himself floating in the elements that make up the universe, between past, present and future, simply being. ]

I can't blame you. It's peaceful.

[erbier]

[ An intake of breath, contemplating hesitation. Before she came to this place, she was vulnerable with no one. There was no one to be trusted with it, no one who would not turn it against her, in their living or their dying. Even her King, especially her King. But she is not one to deny what is evident before her, if she is to love anything it must be this brood.

And so she exhales, leaves her eyes closed, continuing to daydream. ]

( Peace is hard to come by. )

[ And so it was something she took and held onto whenever she could find it. ]

[frakkincylons]

[ One of sam's eyes crack open, to peer at her for a moment, as she sits, lost in her daydream. He's glad she has this. Not much of Ilde's life has been easy, and the Nest has probably been something of a gift to her. He's very happy for that. ]

( Very true. It makes it all that much more valuable. )

[ he speaks to her mind, as he blinks up at the tree branches his mind has projected around him, as if he were actually in this world Ilde's daydreaming build. hands folded behind his head, and body stretched out in a long line, he stretches, and relaxes again, breathing in deeply - the scent, the taste of rain and nature. It's heavenly. ]

[erbier]

( Avera was the first time I felt the rain. )

[ A brand new experience, no wonder she's so keen to revisit the idea, to decorate it with birds and delicate tendrils of purple lightning. ]

( It only ever rained ash. )

[ Ah, her sweet homeland, always a joy to recall. ]

water also bc fite me

[frakkincylons]

[ you'd think sam had spent entirely too much time floating around in a technological bathtub to want to go anywhere near the pool, but the exercise is good, and the feeling of floating, weightlessly, has it's own value. the speedos, however, are not so great. usually, if he's the only one here, he'll suffer them for the sake of moving faster in the water, but given the patch of blond he spots when he pads up to the edge of the pool, he's keeping the white pants given to him by the Nest pulled over the awkward little speedo, shirt tossed aside somewhere. because Ilde is at least ten years younger than him (2,000 if we're being technical), and it feels weird and kind of creepy to waltz around in something skimpier than underwear with her.

as she pushes up to the surface and half dog paddles her way to the edge, sam comes to crouch there in front of her, quiet laugh on his lips as he taps at the top of her wet hair with a fingertip. hey you. ]

Not much of a swimmer? [ which makes sense. he'd seen her world. he'd imagine this is like a blessing to her. or just incredibly weird to see. ]

[erbier]

[ She looks up, a little sullen, and also a little nervous. She does not like her swimsuit any more than he does his. She dislikes having her body exposed like this, it is indecent and it shows all the markings of her difficult life. All the bite marks and scratches from close encounters with ugly things, there is one well worn scar that runs the full length of her, starting at the back of her right shoulder, all the way down her back where it disappears briefly beneath the swimwear only the reappear in detail across her hip and her leg. Huge claws, dug deep. Small burns in many places up her arms and shoulders and neck from a madman's burning touch. Knife wounds and souvenirs from scrabbles and falls that resulted in broken bones, patches of skin where gravel clearly was healed over within the wound. ]

It took... long enough to get in the pool.

[ So don't make fun. ]

[frakkincylons]

[ she'd been scared, and Sam's hardly surprised. how normal would a pool have been to someone on a burned out world like Ilde's? he can't blame her for being sullen about having it pointed out, least of all when all her scars are sitting right there, clearly telling the tale of her life and hardship. right.

scooting himself, Sam slips to the edge of the pool to her side, and gradually slips himself into the water, completely under to wet his head, before he pops back up, pushing his soaked bangs back. ]

Okay, so we start lessons now. Grab my arms and try to lay out flat, hips at the surface of the water.

[ standing in front of her, back to the most of the poop, Sam holds his arms out to her, palms up and open. ] I won't let you sink, I swear.

[erbier]

[ She stares at him as if he's grown a second head. He touches her too much as it is without doing so half-clothed, puritanical sensibilities and a general fear and distrust of being close to others combining together. Heat begins to burn up the back of her neck, that panic that overtakes her at times. She has to stop it before her symbiote reacts and spreads it like a disease... She has to remember again the confidence that Ren had shared with her, the easy slice through the water. She can do it too if she can just practice the motions, match up her body's muscle memory to his. Once she has body and mind in sync, the fear will go for good. She knows. She believes.

Her look is still sullen from beneath her own wet hair, but she slowly reaches out and takes his hands, moving into a floating position. The water that close to her nose and mouth bothers her, but she purses her lips and very pointedly does not react to it. ]

I won't... sink...

[ Probably. ]

Wildcard (training but not)

[regalled]

[For much of the day after they returned to the station Prince is unusually unavailable. Present only in the majority of Hosts's minds, lingering in the deeper parts of the station, tending to the supplies that had returned, taking careful stock of what they had lost and what they had gained. It is important work, even if it does give him a convenient reason to be away from the areas most frequented by the young Hosts.

But by the following day, and in those that follow, he has returned to his usual haunts, primarily occupying the training wing, observing the progress- or lack thereof- of the young Hosts, offering suggestion and guidance where it is needed or requested.

It is, for such a large station, a small world. There were less then thirty people aboard the station at the moment, and it is only a matter of time before he comes across Ilde, as out of place as she seemed in the open hall with it's rows of weaponry and training dummies and the old faint scent of sweat. And for the moment he doesn't say anything- he merely observes. He knew she capable of being deadly, but he did not have so optimistic view of her abilities were she to find herself in trouble that could not be solved by simply killing one person.]

[erbier]

[ She has been waiting for him to appear. She has been approached enough times about tempering his foul mood that it is now her obligation to attempt it, although she cannot say she does so with joy in her heart. But if he is going to judge her, she will at least learn what his expectations truly are in order to make an informed decision about whether or not to disappoint them. ]

Are you available to work with me.

[ Not quite a question because it's not really what she wants to do with her time, but here she is, and she will see it through. ]

[regalled]

[Here is no long pause, no thoughtful study of her before he answers. He doesn't weigh his options or so much as raise his eyebrows at the question.]

Yes. What is it you wish to improve on?

[The tone of his voice is flat and level, without the slightest hint of pleasure, but that is not unusual to her or her circumstances. Ilde had been an unexpected problem, where Kylo Ren had been a predictable one, but she was still under his protection. He still intended to see her become better than she was. A necessary step to assure her survival.]

[erbier]

My only experience is to kill.

[ She states that flatly. ]

You must show me a different way.

[ The 'if you're going to continue shouting at me about it' is only kind of implied. ]

FOR CATHAWAY

[erbier]

[ Sam had told her that Cathaway's chambers were beautiful, that she should see them. She had resisted, feeling stubborn, but with the sorrow building under her breastbone she decides it is no longer worth the resistance. She goes looking for them, and her elder host, looking for peace she thinks she is assured to never really find. She remembers being dazzled by the brilliant light of Cathaway, she would like to be hypnotized by it once more rather than so full of tiredness and loneliness. It was easier that way, to give in to the sway of things, the rhythm. She had fallen into Dreus in such a way, listening to his snake poisons, his nightmarish understanding of reality. ]

Cathaway.

[ Soft spoken, waiting to see if the woman wishes to speak to her. ]

sorry for the delay!

[polyphonos]

[Ilde goes looking. What she finds is:

A long chamber painted in mottled light from some high, unrecognizable point. At the center of the chamber is rectangular pool studded with some breed of water lilies, their pale blossoms tipped in pink and purples. When Sam found her here, it was because she was mired in the work which needed doing: a matter of trimming and maintaining the growth of the plants and the quiet circulation of the water. Ilde finds her here today because this is where Ilde expects or wishes to find her. Today, Cathaway is not standing in the knee-deep pool and neither is she wielding a pair of shears to cut back the overgrowth. Today the pool and the aquatic plants there are suitably managed so Cathaway is merely seated at the edge of the pool.

She is, evidently, waiting for Ilde's company. When the girl appears at the far side of the chamber, her attention would hone there even without the additional prompting.]

There you are.

np gurl

[erbier]

[ Sam was right... She likes this place, it is beautiful and serene, and she knows better than to think those plants do not require careful tending despite how immaculate they look. She had not imagined such a hobby for Cathaway, it intrigues her, soothes her somewhat from the feeling that is not fit for any of this. Only somewhat.

She frowns slightly at the way the woman greets her, confused by her words, her tone. Was she waiting for her? Does it matter? They are both here and there are things to be said, just as there had been things to say to the Prince. Quite different, however, between one and the other... ]

Yes. I must speak to you.

[ Must, or surely she would go mad, drowning in herself and all that has changed. ]

Do I belong here?

[polyphonos]

[Cathaway makes no move to rearrange herself at the edge of the pool, however she does pat the floor beside her - a clear indication that Ilde join her there. It is, perhaps, not as comfortable a place to sit as a chair or the lush green turf of the gardens, but it will do in the moment.]

You wouldn't be here if you didn't.

[It's as simple as that. If she weren't suitable, if she didn't belong, there would be no reason for her to be in this place - for the symbiote to have called to her, for the enemy to have found her and chased her here. She is where she is suitable.]