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Entry tags:
(open) catch all for downtime
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.
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.