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ataraxionlogs2012-07-27 02:50 pm
puppydogeyes) wrote in ataraxionlogs2012-07-27 02:50 pm
Entry tags:
(closed)
CHARACTERS: Taylor "Tyke" Kee (puppydogeyes) & Thomas "Durham" Sutton (heartbreaking)
LOCATION: Oxygen Garden.
WARNINGS: Swearing.
SUMMARY: A random encounter between two people from very different places, cue massive culture shock.
[It isn't the first time Taylor's had Gingersnap out of her room since returning from the maze. She's been careful to take the dog out, carry her around the corridors a little, give her some stimulation even if she wasn't allowed to get down and try to walk anywhere. It was important to keep her still, so her legs healed properly, and where a normal dog owner might have needed to keep her under a crate for that, Taylor only needed to keep a command of stillness on her. It still left something of a strain on her, having to keep control in place for so long when usually her dogs were well-trained enough to only need suggestion. There's relief in having Gingersnap's casts come off - knowing she'd healed well, that she'd be back to herself soon, and that Taylor no longer needed to keep that kind of constant concentration.
It leaves her feeling a lot lighter as she takes Gingersnap down to the Oxygen Garden, letting Windsor and Chubbs run off freely to play around the space - so many people had gone down to the station, it should be quiet enough to let them have a little time. Taylor can focus on Gingersnap for the moment, setting her down carefully on her feet, making sure she keeps her balance before taking a few steps away. Several weeks in casts, Gingersnap's muscles were underused, out of shape in general. She needed exercise, gentle and done in careful stages, to build her back up again. Taylor crouches down and starts encouraging the dog towards her, hands outstretched, voice steady and low, overlaid with reassurances from her pathos. Gingersnap starts to take a few wavering, nervous steps towards her, and Taylor smiles.]
Come on girl, that's it. You can do it.
puppydogeyes) & Thomas "Durham" Sutton (heartbreaking)LOCATION: Oxygen Garden.
WARNINGS: Swearing.
SUMMARY: A random encounter between two people from very different places, cue massive culture shock.
[It isn't the first time Taylor's had Gingersnap out of her room since returning from the maze. She's been careful to take the dog out, carry her around the corridors a little, give her some stimulation even if she wasn't allowed to get down and try to walk anywhere. It was important to keep her still, so her legs healed properly, and where a normal dog owner might have needed to keep her under a crate for that, Taylor only needed to keep a command of stillness on her. It still left something of a strain on her, having to keep control in place for so long when usually her dogs were well-trained enough to only need suggestion. There's relief in having Gingersnap's casts come off - knowing she'd healed well, that she'd be back to herself soon, and that Taylor no longer needed to keep that kind of constant concentration.
It leaves her feeling a lot lighter as she takes Gingersnap down to the Oxygen Garden, letting Windsor and Chubbs run off freely to play around the space - so many people had gone down to the station, it should be quiet enough to let them have a little time. Taylor can focus on Gingersnap for the moment, setting her down carefully on her feet, making sure she keeps her balance before taking a few steps away. Several weeks in casts, Gingersnap's muscles were underused, out of shape in general. She needed exercise, gentle and done in careful stages, to build her back up again. Taylor crouches down and starts encouraging the dog towards her, hands outstretched, voice steady and low, overlaid with reassurances from her pathos. Gingersnap starts to take a few wavering, nervous steps towards her, and Taylor smiles.]
Come on girl, that's it. You can do it.
no subject
With the ship being the size it is, it had taken some work to track down where the mystery woman was exactly. But with the majority of the crew disembarked for the next few days he hadn’t even been trying - knowing that it was more than likely that she was on the outpost, he had temporarily given up his hunt until shore leave had ended. Running across her now – Miss Tyke, he had been informed her name was (there was little that surprised him now, but in this matter he had been struck genuinely horrified by the idea) – had left him speechless with happy surprise – a delight that wasn’t even abated by the fact that she was surrounded by dogs.
The last time he had seen her she had straddling her cello and engaged in conversation with a man that Durham certainly didn’t want to talk to again in a hurry. Now, sadly lacking one but mercifully free of the other, he has considerably less qualms about approaching her. He quickly crosses the distance between the door to the oxygen gardens and where she crouches, heedless of the dogs that tumble nearby and seemingly confident enough that he knows who she is to stride forth with his chin uplifted. ]
Hello, there!
[ He sweeps his hat from his head – just because he was on board a ship a million miles away from home was no excuse for not being properly dressed, he had reminded himself earlier that day – and stops a few feet short of where she crouches, hands clasped in the small of his back and bouncing tentatively on the balls of his boots as he adds: ]
Do excuse my intrusion - might you spare a few moments to talk?
no subject
Only when she's sure the dog's safely down and comfortable does she stand, looking the guy over with a frown - and shit, she'd seen some of the medieval people, but this one looked like something out of an Austen novel. If he turned out to be Darcy - though with that cheerfulness it was more likely to be Bingley - she was leaving.]
What do you want?
ahahaha TYKE I LOVE YOU
And only now that Tyke is both standing and facing him does Durham notice a few disconcerting details. Her hair is shorter than he'd expected; from a distance it might have been done up, but the short crop reminded him more of poverty-stricken ladies who had been forced to sell their hair for pennies rather than any kind of musician as well-taught as she had sounded before. Combined with the adrogynous features and the aggressive demeanour, Tyke's appearance is like nothing Durham has ever encountered before now.
Still, Durham sets these thoughts aside (for now) and rallies to his subject. ]
I, uh - I had the good fortune to overhear you playing your cello. You have a most admirable talent... [ He forgoes the customary miss that he might have added; Durham is perceptive enough to know that Miss Tyke isn't likely to be the kind that would warm to it. The absence of the word in his usual rhythm of speech leaves him stumbling a little, but he picks his words carefully as he approaches what he has long-planned to say next. ]
I would have approached you there and then but you were otherwise engaged in conversation with another gentleman. [ It had been Oxford, of course, and Durham had at the time no desire to be anywhere near the other man at all. He had watched for a few long moments, curious as to see how the other operative interacted with the rest of the ship... and, more importantly, how he had deigned to introduce himself or explain his power. ] A gentleman older than myself, with fair-brown hair, a half-grown beard and an English tongue, standing about yea high - [ He gestures at Oxford's height, taller than himself. ] I'm afraid I couldn't tell you his name... [ He feigns ignorance - a well-acted pretence done by someone who is more than adept at putting on a fake face - and trails off expectantly in hopes that Tyke would mention his name. ]
:3
She doesn't really get the point of what he's saying, though. He'd seen her playing the cello, and that doesn't do anything to ease the tension in her shoulders - it wasn't something she'd intended anyone to see or know about, but several had, and while she hadn't started any fights over it at the time, she didn't have the warming buzz of alcohol in her right now. He carries on past it, and maybe if she doesn't acknowledge it, he'll leave it alone. But she doesn't understand the description he goes on to make, her frown only growing sharper. She knows who was there that day, she doesn't need them described to her.]
Don't need you to tell me it. Oxford, that's the guy you're talking about.
[Dean would've been ruled out at 'gentleman' - if the guy wasn't likely to describe all men like that - but he didn't fit the rest either.]
no subject
[ There's a grim quality to the satisfaction in Durham's words as he repeats the name to himself; he had been expecting Oxford to introduce himself with his real name (wasn't that protocol for civilians?) but knowing that the other operative had resorted to codenames was oddly affirming. It meant that Durham hadn't been the first person to expose elements of the Order on board. ]
And, pray, what else do you know about him? [ Durham pauses and purses his lips briefly before continuing dryly: ] People such as Oxford tend to know only too much about other people without caring to divulge anything about themselves as a rule, but I wonder whether he bothers to maintain such a taxing act of duplicity on board?
no subject
I know he's been here a lot fucking longer than you.
[Truth was she didn't know that much about Oxford. But he'd been first wave, before he was fifth. He'd been through most of the same shit as her on the ship, even if they hadn't gone through it together. She wouldn't even say she liked him, but he was familiar, more familiar than this Austen reject, and maybe there was a grain of loyalty in that.]
no subject
Yes. Long enough for him to entrust you with a valuable operative name, it would seem.
[ He glances aside, feigning disinterest as he examines their surroundings with an idle eye. ]
There's no reason for operatives to maintain secrecy whilst on board, of course. [ Dryly, he adds: ] What a relief it will be to live a life without fear of public exposure and condemnation...
no subject
You think any of that is going to bother me? Shittons of people on this ship. We've all got lives and secrets. [She had her own, used her own codename, had her own training and pathos hidden behind it. People knew pieces of it, people she trusted, but not beyond that. Oxford likely knew as little about her as she did about him.] As long as it's not got some fucked up plot to start gutting people, that kind of shit is the least of our worries.
no subject
[ Not that he isn't terribly sly himself. Not that being sly, as he calls it, isn't precisely the job description of both Oxford and his chosen trades. Not that he hasn't lived a duplicitous little double life of his own, betraying colleagues, king and country when the time called for it. Not that he didn't lure his own dear friend to a horrifying fate under false pretenses. And all of this is in the name of his ideals - a little fact that Durham believes sets him completely apart from any given Oxford. Justification. ]
I am quite sure that 'gutting people' would not be an Oxford's style. I suppose the only gutting you might fear from him is one that would strip your sanity from your presence of mind. [ He snorts mirthlessly. ] I do not know which I would prefer.
no subject
You've got a point to make, so fucking make it. [There might be a more uncertain edge to her frown, but she still didn't like how this guy was talking. Clearly he knew Oxford, somehow, and Taylor didn't know how when they were obviously from different places. If he was trying to get her involved in some sort of grudge, she wasn't interested.] Stop dancing around like I'm going to follow your lead.