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ataraxionlogs2012-07-13 02:22 pm
puppydogeyes) wrote in ataraxionlogs2012-07-13 02:22 pm
Entry tags:
(no subject)
CHARACTERS: Taylor "Tyke" Kee (puppydogeyes) and OPEN
LOCATION: Holodeck 1
WARNINGS: Swearing.
SUMMARY: Tyke + bottle of space vodka + cello. Not as destructive a mix as you might think.
The cello's been in Taylor's locker for a month now, appearing with a load of her clothes from the Academy on the last jump. She'd pulled a face at it, first finding it – taken the clothes and shut the door. The rest of the month had been enough to put it out of her mind, though she hadn't entirely forgotten it. It was an unwelcome reminder, tied way too closely to Instructor Pinset and everything she liked to say (and Taylor hadn't been able to ignore just how good her mind had been at cooking up the woman's voice when she was under the influence of that toxin shit), but ignoring it didn't do anything. It was still there, a month on, when Taylor went back to check her locker for anything new – something she didn't get to on her initial move out after the jump, Tommy helping her back to her room to recover from how the jumps liked to fuck her up.
It's still there, and she's tempted to pull another face at it and shut the door again, but she ends up standing at staring for a good long while instead. Stitches still in her shoulder and back, she's benched from security, from 'strenuous activity', and stir crazy didn't quite go far enough to cover how she's been feeling. Finding outlets where she could, even if it involved pulling the stitches once (twice), but she's been doing better on that since she gave in and hit the ship's stock of space alcohol.
The cello offered something to do, and she holds onto that, shakes off any of her resentment for the instrument or what it represented. Hauls it out of the locker, opening the case to check it over, but there's no way she's going to try any tuning or playing in the medbay. Way too public.
Half an hour later and she's made it to holodeck 1. Snagged a bottle of something clear and engine fuel flavoured on the way, programmed herself up a chair and settled the cello into position against her body. The two dogs she's got with her are in a half-doze a few metres away, undisturbed by her tuning the instrument, broken snatches of songs as she slowly reminds herself how to play.
[[OOC: feel free to have characters hear the music and come investigate or whatever! Opener is prose but I prefer action tags, thanks.]]
puppydogeyes) and OPENLOCATION: Holodeck 1
WARNINGS: Swearing.
SUMMARY: Tyke + bottle of space vodka + cello. Not as destructive a mix as you might think.
The cello's been in Taylor's locker for a month now, appearing with a load of her clothes from the Academy on the last jump. She'd pulled a face at it, first finding it – taken the clothes and shut the door. The rest of the month had been enough to put it out of her mind, though she hadn't entirely forgotten it. It was an unwelcome reminder, tied way too closely to Instructor Pinset and everything she liked to say (and Taylor hadn't been able to ignore just how good her mind had been at cooking up the woman's voice when she was under the influence of that toxin shit), but ignoring it didn't do anything. It was still there, a month on, when Taylor went back to check her locker for anything new – something she didn't get to on her initial move out after the jump, Tommy helping her back to her room to recover from how the jumps liked to fuck her up.
It's still there, and she's tempted to pull another face at it and shut the door again, but she ends up standing at staring for a good long while instead. Stitches still in her shoulder and back, she's benched from security, from 'strenuous activity', and stir crazy didn't quite go far enough to cover how she's been feeling. Finding outlets where she could, even if it involved pulling the stitches once (twice), but she's been doing better on that since she gave in and hit the ship's stock of space alcohol.
The cello offered something to do, and she holds onto that, shakes off any of her resentment for the instrument or what it represented. Hauls it out of the locker, opening the case to check it over, but there's no way she's going to try any tuning or playing in the medbay. Way too public.
Half an hour later and she's made it to holodeck 1. Snagged a bottle of something clear and engine fuel flavoured on the way, programmed herself up a chair and settled the cello into position against her body. The two dogs she's got with her are in a half-doze a few metres away, undisturbed by her tuning the instrument, broken snatches of songs as she slowly reminds herself how to play.
[[OOC: feel free to have characters hear the music and come investigate or whatever! Opener is prose but I prefer action tags, thanks.]]
no subject
But that isn't what she can see in Dean's face, in the lack of his usual smart mouth. It makes her frown slightly, like she isn't sure how to deal with it - if he was here to piss her off, she'd know what to do, knew how to be angry, knew how to be defensive. This wasn't calling for either of those (but when had that stopped her?), so Taylor doesn't say anything about the cello at all, looks down at the bottle in her hand instead.]
If you like varnish-stripper flavour. [She shifts it in her hand, turning it over - it doesn't even have a label - before looking up at Dean again. She hadn't been planning a party, had come up here looking to be alone, more than anything. But there are a few people she can be alone with, and it's been near a month since she's seen him (longer than that, conscious and talking and not blue). He isn't being a dick about the cello, and she doesn't really want him to go.
She holds the bottle out.]
You want to join? Not going to finish the whole thing on my own. [A glance around the holodeck, empty besides them, the dogs curled up together over to one side, and she shrugs slightly with one shoulder (the left, the healing bite ringing it clearly visible beneath the strap of her shirt, stitches still in place).] You'll have to make your own chair.