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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.
no subject
[ 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. ]
no subject
I thought you chose to fix this place up yourself. [ Outside of missions, they aren't assigned jobs at the Station. Hell, they haven't even been assigned weekly training. Both guardians have left them to their own devices. ]
no subject
[ She really means that. It was the task she was given, in her life, by her God. It was the only thing that had ever given her any purpose. What else would she have done? ]
no subject
I don't know. But you don't have to tend to all this, not if you don't want to.
[ Not if it reminds her more of the bad than than the good. ]
no subject
I would be lonely without the plants.
[ Kind of a sad thing to say, that she can't truly take comfort in the other human beings around her, even with the pull of the brood. The plants are still easier. ]
no subject
How's the plant from Avera doing?
no subject
I will show you.
no subject
Once she starts going he'll follow after at her side, taking in the rest of the garden as they walk. Still not the same as being outside, the difference is in the air. It smells of green and dirt, and missing the rest. ]
no subject
This spot needed some flowers. Something bright, it was a little drab.
no subject
You think they'll need extra water?
[ They were pretty much drowning in it back on the planet. ]
no subject
[ Her voice is soft and patient. ]
Seeds only need just enough moisture to become comfortable... too much and they drown.
[ And that was just a terrible waste. They're delicate, like children, they need to be cared for as such, protected from themselves and their own weakness. ]
But I do expect they will be thirsty blooms.
no subject
People keep gardens in the neighborhood. [ Small fields, patches of green and bright shiny reds in the summer. Sometimes dry yellows and dust. ] Most of it's for food. They don't have flowers like these.
no subject
I would like to grow food here... fruit trees, but they take quite some time to grow and blossom...
[ They would probably be dead before then. Womp womp. ]
no subject
[ How deep does the Station's dirt go? ]
no subject
[ As he said, those roots needed to go deep... ]
But I will research what I can accomplish in this kind of setting.
[ Just wait until she learns about hydroponics. Concordia goals...... ]