ataraxionlogs | open-ish | i'm just trying to find my way to you

[ Once Medical had worked its way through the steady stream of the more severely affected members of the ship and into those whose lives weren’t immediately endangered by the constant work of the nanites, Emma took it upon herself to round Hook up from a few doors down to make time to get their own illness cleared up.

She still trembles as she leans against the wall beside his door, struggling to fight through the exhaustion. When he exits the room to join her, she straightens her back and holds it together, keeping step alongside him towards Medical.

Down below, many are still laid up and recovering from the more severe complications. Emma grimaces, moving past them, briefly allowing her eyes to linger on Hook with a faint concern buried behind him. A moment later, she calls out for help from, well, whoever’s hanging around. ]

I thought they said this was supposed to be painless. [ Well. Not before demonstrating some reluctance. ] Hello?

[ She gets back to consistent security sweeps with the new jump. While many are still healing, the issues that required security’s intervention have mostly passed. On a less frequent stop to the upper floors of the passenger quarters, Emma hears movement in the common areas.

Making her way down the hall to the collection of conference rooms, gym equipment, and dining areas, Emma slips with silent care with a hand on her gun out of habit. After the situation with Lucifer, she doesn’t have much optimism to bring into these situations, and as far as she knew, the majority of the older population had moved on down.

When she spots him, her hand drops and her eyes roll. ]

Gold. You’re still up here?

That's typically what they say before the pain starts. [ Haven't you ever dealt with doctors, Swan. Or anyone who says something will be painless, ever. His voice still sounds rough, but in some ways the strange texture that's overtaken his skin works as a camouflage for the exhaustion that had been so apparent a week ago.

Hook's distracted by the sight of a few other passengers, as well, but he's quick to turn his attention to seeking out assistance when Emma's call doesn't go immediately answered. When a quick glance around the room reveals a familiar face, he doesn't hesitate to call out to Six. ]

Hey. [ Familiar, yes. Actually remembering her name, absolutely not. He doesn't seem remotely apologetic for the obvious failure to make the bid for attention more personalized; he wants to get this over with, manners can wait. ] You're with medical, aren't you?

[this is the deal with han. han doesn't like anyone on this ship because the moment that he gets close to someone, they disappear. so, what han does is that han guards himself and has drinks all by himself as he deals with the influx of information that has just vomited itself at him.

1.) his best friend and the woman he loves are siblings.
2.) the woman that you've been sort of flirting with for the past year is their mother.
3.) you know their father.
4.) everything is terrible (well, it's still terrible)

sometimes he just needs a beer and someone to play cards with. instead he has no one - his own fault - and a beer.

where is a giant wookie when you need him?]

[Gold's floor hadn't exactly been heavily populated before the call to move, but the sense of certain areas being communally used isn't as lingering now. It adds more to the peace and quiet of it, something he's taking a moment to appreciate after the ridiculousness of last month, making himself a pot of tea in the kitchen.

Or at least, it was peace and quiet. But then Emma Swan wanders in.]

I certainly appear to be.

[Low, but not quite under his breath, and also without any pause in what he's doing: pouring water from the kettle into the teapot. It's only when it's filled and he's set the kettle down, popped the teapot's lid into place that he finally looks up at her.]

Were you hoping for someone else?

[ Caprica has endured her round through the machine -- she had screamed, just once, but that was by and large an expression of anger at pain than pain itself. Looking at her now, composed and precise as she moves on by, you wouldn't be able to tell.

But you can tell what she's been through. Her fingers are an inch longer than they should be, ending in pointy, bony tapers, and strange structural changes have seem to warp her jaw, the cut of her cheekbones, emphasising a predatory quality that matches the uneven jut of sharp teeth crowding her mouth. Her skin looks aggravated, reddened with micro-abrasions.

She stops where she's going at that direct hey in a voice that is minimally familiar, recognition only filtering in after she assesses the pair of them. And approaches.

Her smile is offputting, currently. Yes, she is with Medical. ]

Who wants to go first?

[ She turns, to lead them in the right direction. The queue had been a strong presence for the first while, after the worst of the afflicted had been past through. Now, the progression is at a trickle. ]

[ In some petty revenge for his sass, Emma reaches a hand out to slap it against Killian’s mid-back. The gesture shoves him out ahead of her, and she allows it to speak for itself. He’s worse off, visibly so. While Emma’s sallow complexion now borders on the bluish yellow, and her hair has thinned in some areas, the worst of her side effects are cosmetic, with a side of feverish trembling. ]

Shouldn’t you have been first in line?

[ Emma spots the still-present side effects on Caprica’s body, unable to resist comment. Medical healing medical should have taken priority, right? To make sure they'd be able to operate the equipment, and perform the procedures. If this is post-treatment, she doesn’t want to think about what else will be involved. ]

[ Her reply comes in the form of a long-suffering look, mouth set into a tight line. In some ways, his nonchalance is reassuring, a reminder of how collected they’d all managed to be in Storybrooke (for a time). That’s more than a year off, though, and the memory feels out of reach. ]

You didn’t hear the security announcement?

[ At least initially, she’ll give him the benefit of the doubt. Truth be told, she doubts he missed it: he doesn’t miss much. Which means it’s sheer stubbornness keeping him up here, like a few others she could name. ]

We can't keep running patrols this high.

[ A whole ship full of people almost died last jump, and Emma couldn’t do a damn thing to stop it. What’s more, this thing? With Hook? It’s barreling ahead and she can hardly keep up, let alone get ahead of the curve and stop it in its tracks before it’s out of control.

It’s almost enough to make a lost girl miss Neverland.

So she hits up one of the bars towards the end after coming off a security patrol, and that bar happens to be the one on Han’s level. Leaning over the bar to grab a bottle of something indistinguishable from any of the other spirits the ship stocks, she glances sidelong at him. ]

Rough week?

( there are a lot of things about the tranquility that are pretty bad, pretty fucked up. there's a lot of reasons to hate this place, to want to leave it, to resent being here. there's a lot of dangers here, some uniquely ship-based and others the product of putting so many disparate people in an enclosed space and letting some nasty hybrid of mob rule and the bystander effect dictate the outcome.

ilde knows this. but--

even in her own home, ilde didn't have the luxury of just sitting down by a stream and trying things for the sake of trying them. for the sheer joy of how it feels when she masters something - just because she can, and why shouldn't she? people might look askance, here, but it's not the same as what she knows to fear in a majority catholic country like the one in which she's raising children the vatican calls abominations in the eyes of the lord. she won't remember this, when she goes home. if she goes home, again.

if all there is in this place is all there is from this place, then screw it. she'll hone the gifts that have kept her alive - she'd quite like to continue staying alive - but she has elbow-room aboard this miserable ship that the south of france is lacking. when she coaxes the water up from where it runs to form a flat mirror in front of her, when she impresses an illusion of her own face on that water as if it were a mirror, there's not a lot of practical value in what she's doing.

also, the faux-reflection isn't mirrored, which any minute now is what she's going to realize looks slightly off about it. )

[ For the most part, Emma has never been big on nature. Every once in a while, she’d come by the gardens to remember what it felt like to be outside (even if the gardens weren’t truly outside), but she was mostly content to hang out in the more habitable areas of the ship.

When Graham left, that changed.

She heads down every week or so because she can remember while she’s there.

This week, she notices someone else on her usual route, and hesitates just at the edge of hearing to watch, unwilling to interrupt. She’s doing something at the stream, but Emma can’t see what. She tries to keep quiet as she approaches, peering at the water. ]

( if it were an actual mirror, ilde would see emma behind her rather than just - sort of feel her presence, which is the actual reason why she turns. if some vampires are like a half-finished melody, emma is like a peal of silver bells, and that's a little weird, frankly. although she's not going to lead with 'i have never encountered magic that feels more like NICE THINGS than you', that will definitely make her sound like the weird one. )

Sorry, hello?

( the image of herself, visible over her shoulder in the water that is starting to waver as her attention shifts away from it, doesn't move. )

Hi. Uh.

[ Caught, her brow furrows and Emma stops mid-stride, breath choking in her throat. What does she say? ]

Sorry. You’re … busy, I’ll keep going.

[ She holds up her hands in apology. If someone intruded on her minute alone back here, she’d be pretty pissed about it. It’s a wonder the lady hasn’t hurled a fireball at her—because, yeah, that’s definitely magic going on. ]

( well, that would be rude.

... not that ilde is incapable of such rudeness, but the lesson of 'don't blatantly display aggressive magic as a first resort, you don't know who's going to witness it and kill your family' is one that once-learned is rarely forgotten. self-preservation taught her restraint where just 'it's morally wrong to force people to do what you want because you feel like it' probably wouldn't have.

she - smiles, instead, a bit tentative. more specifically to soothe than because she's so friendly: )

No- hey, it's fine. I'm just fucking around. Look, she thinks it's fine, too--

( the widens its eyes and nods terribly solemnly, and for a moment they're perfectly in concert. then ilde breaks off and laughs, )

I'm sorry, that was probably creepy.

[ Robin has always thought of himself as a fit and hale person, given that he tended to be on the move much of the time in Sherwood Forest. His aptitude with his bow means he has considerable upper body strength, though he's come to realize he really ought to be doing more to strengthen his heart as well. Working out in the gym with Emma, it's apparent to him that he could do with engaging in this type of exercise more often. Patrolling is one thing, but increasing his heart rate like this for a longer period of time isn't something he's done all that much lately, and admittedly, it feels quite good.

He's worked up a nice sweat, and wipes at his brow with a small towel after finishing up a set of lifting weights. He's invigorated, and an enthusiastic smile spreads on his face as he looks over at Emma, breathless as he speaks: ]

After we're done here and showered, I'd say we've earned a few drinks. Care to join me?

Uhhh.

[ Emma leans back. Well, since she pointed it out, it’s probably okay to agree, right? Tilting her head in acknowledgment, reluctant though it may be, she nods and forces herself to take a few steps closer. ]

Little bit.

[ She crouches, squinting at the image. ]

How’d you do that?

You know, captured on a spaceship isn’t a great date venue.

[ Then again, if she thought he really meant it like that, she probably wouldn’t be calling it out for such. Dropping down from the pull-up bar, she grabs her towel off the edge of the weight cage. She shoots him a look, eyebrows raised, then lets a chuckle slip out. ]

Have you tried the booze on this ship? It all tastes like paint thinner.

[ Then again, that's not a no. ]

( she dispels the illusion with a thought - or the absence of one, in a manner of speaking - and a moment later lets go of the water, as well. it drops back into the stream as if she'd never tampered with it in the first place, and she shrugs-- )

It's nothing too complex. I know what I look like. I just... ( this is the downside of not being properly taught how to do anything; she lacks the language to explain it, later. ) Illusions are easy.

[ Of course she’d say so. A dry sort of smile crosses Emma’s face, the kind that says her experience is something different. The same smile she drums up when people talk about their families. She hasn’t been around magic her whole life: it’s this whole, enormous part of her that she’s just barely beginning to understand. Nothing about it is easy. ]

More complex than I’ve worked out how to do.

( off emma's expression, ilde laughs - not unkindly. wry, more; knowing. she only has a few years advantage on emma, and the freedom to explore and discuss it in safety is a new thing, as opposed to hoping like hell she's not doing it too wrong. instinct guides most of what she gets right. )

Well, you ask me to cast a spell or something, it's going to turn out a little differently. Don't give me too much credit, here, I'm making it up as I go along.

Define "rough", lady.

[it seems on par with the rest of the shit that goes down here. han's been lost in the corridors, almost suffocated on a trip out, been trapped in engineering and now a crazy plague took over the entire damn ship.

maybe he should have stayed on the streets of Coreilla, it seemed to be safer than on here.]

Patrol?

Is that how it usually goes where you're from?

[ Not by the sound of it, but Emma feels the need to clarify. ]

[ Emma returns the question with a nod, pouring a short glass of whatever unidentifiable liquor she’s grabbed. She slides the bottle over towards him because they’ll be here a while, probably. ]

Just looks like you haven’t gotten a lot of breaks.

[ Her shrug is clear: he doesn’t have to talk about it, but that’s what bars are for, right? ]

( a slightly awkward shrug - this is something that's come up more and more, lately, and she's had to suck it up and get used to talking straightforwardly about old family scandals that even now her father's loyalty to his adopted parents makes him really wish she wouldn't talk about. )

We were adopted out of the family, so-- I think most people pick it up from their parents.

[ Her gaze drops instantly. ]

Guess I wouldn’t know either way.

[ Even if she had grown up with her parents, she knows, she still wouldn’t have had the opportunity to learn magic from them: they didn’t know how to use it, or even have magic inside of them. And yet, it’s hard not to take that as a harsh reminder of what she missed out on. ]

open-ish | i'm just trying to find my way to you

pre-jump with hook and six | i quit casting hooks off the california coast

post-jump with gold | she never wrote me back

swans in here too

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robots through a window

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the gardens | get custody, get cats, enter supreme courts of justice, argue with god.

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gym >> bar

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