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meadowlarklogs2019-02-17 04:33 pm
culver) wrote in meadowlarklogs2019-02-17 04:33 pm
knows everybody's disapproval
WHO: Nill culver & anyone!
WHERE: All around New Amsterdam.
WHEN: ICly the week of September 24.
WHAT: Exploring the city. Maybe eating some cake.
NOTES OR WARNINGS: TBD.
if the heavens ever did speak [THE SAFEHOUSE]
[After keeping her cooped up for days, they finally tell her she can go, find a job, an apartment, start a life. They tell her her new name: Nill Klein. She's eighteen, done with school, no family, and lost her voice in an accident and the damage was too great to repair. They tell her that her wings won't be an issue because body mods are commonplace here. They even give her a birthday: September 20th, the day she woke up in that alley. She doesn't mention the irony of that to them, because she doesn't even know her real birthday. This one will do.
It's close enough to the truth to be easy to remember, though she'd be a liar to say she isn't disappointed about not going to school. Maybe in a while she'll think about some kind of higher education, but for now, she needs money. With a diploma and a fake resume she should be able to find something, right?
They tell her she can come back if she wants, that there will always be a bed for her at the safehouse--but she still packs up the few things she has into a tattered duffel bag and slings it over her shoulder as she leaves. She doesn't want to be caught unprepared, and it had become a habit for her on the station to carry her few precious belongings on her at all times. It's just easier that way.
With the bag still over her shoulder, she makes a pit stop in the kitchen, rummaging around in the cupboard for something to snack on before she leaves.]
she's the last true mouthpiece [BY THE RIVER]
[For a while, she just goes where her feet take her. She's always had a good memory, but is still sure not to take so many turns that she can't find her way back. She feels the sun on her back, and realizes that she hasn't really felt it in months--not since she was on Kaittos. She takes a deep breath, inhaling all the familiar scents of a big city, and exhales slowly. Freedom may be too strong a word. These Morningstar people know that she's a phony, could probably undo her identity in a moment despite how much time they may have put into creating it. But something in her gut tells her they won't. She's been to their safehouse, seen the other people. Cold as it may be for her to think, she takes comfort in that strange sort of safety.
They could kill her, of course, but something tells her they won't do that, either. Not with this thing in her chest that they took the time to put there.
After a while of walking she ends up at the river, and stares at it in awe for a few silent minutes. Again, it's been months since she's seen anything even close to natural like this; even the plants in the station's greenery had seemed sterile, artificial. Nill drops her pack beside her and sits atop it, wings stretching out into the sunlight behind her as she stares down into the rushing water with a strange, unbreakable fascination.]
every sunday's getting more bleak [HONEY❤HONEY]
[By the time Nill realizes she's hungry, she's spent hours wandering around the city. Nobody has really looked twice at her, nor she at them. The anonymity is freeing, and it had been easy to lose herself in it. But she can feel the too-familiar pangs of hunger starting in her stomach, and it's just then that she smells the most delicious sweetness she ever has in her whole life. She follows the scent until she's standing outside a clean, white-washed building with a big glass window. Inside, she can see pretty girls in pretty dresses carrying trays laden with sweets, and for a few moments all she does is stare.
For the first time in a long, long time, Nill feels self-conscious. Because she used to look like that. She used to have long, beautiful hair and wear soft dresses edged in lace. Even on the ship and the station, she'd kept her dresses--mementos, more than anything, of a life that hadn't really been much of a life, but was still more than she'd had before. And she'd lost it all before she'd even really figured out how to appreciate it.
She reaches up, running a hand through her cropped hair. Now she has a new, different life and no real idea what to do with it.
But that doesn't change the fact that she's hungry. Still, she doesn't venture inside just yet, mentally taking stock of the little money she's been loaned and wondering if it's really worth it to treat herself to something like that.]
a fresh poison each week [CUYP MARKT]
[The bustling market makes Nill feel alive.
Everywhere there is activity, new sights and smells, the sound of people haggling, the taste of competition in the air. No two stalls have exactly the same items, but each shopkeeper acts as if they do, calling to each person who passes, hawking their wares and flashing smiles. It's a dizzying amount of sensory input, and even just a few months ago, Nill might have been overwhelmed.
But she's different. She has a different(ish) name and a different path to tread here than ever before in her life. So she feels bold as she approaches stalls, whether to look around or actually consider buying something (food, usually, because she'd rather have a treat than a trinket). She doesn't have much money yet, and knows she has to be frugal--but she can't help but look at some things longingly, mentally cataloging anything she might want to return for when she actually has the means. What catches her attention the most are the fruits, some familiar but many strange; she hasn't had fruit since the planet Kaittos, and her hand hovers delicately over the produce as if it might disappear the moment she touches it. She acts the same around the flowers, remembering fondly the little garden she and Laura had planted on the station before her friend had left.
They're simple things, fragile things, but Nill has always believed in the temporary more than the concrete. Probably because she herself was meant to be temporary. But she doesn't have to be that girl anymore. There may be a lot going on in this city, horrors she hasn't yet seen and fear she hasn't yet felt, but for this moment, all she sees are the fruits and flowers and how absurdly normal this all is compared to the last year and a half of her life.]
we were born sick [WILDCARD]
[ooc; i'm down for anything! over the next few days, nill will explore as much of the city as she can on foot, but will spend her nights at the safehouse until further notice. please feel free to hit me up on plurk at![[plurk.com profile]](https://plurk.com/favicon.ico)
watchet if you want to do something specific, or drop a message in nill's ic inbox!]
culver & anyone!WHERE: All around New Amsterdam.
WHEN: ICly the week of September 24.
WHAT: Exploring the city. Maybe eating some cake.
NOTES OR WARNINGS: TBD.
if the heavens ever did speak [THE SAFEHOUSE]
[After keeping her cooped up for days, they finally tell her she can go, find a job, an apartment, start a life. They tell her her new name: Nill Klein. She's eighteen, done with school, no family, and lost her voice in an accident and the damage was too great to repair. They tell her that her wings won't be an issue because body mods are commonplace here. They even give her a birthday: September 20th, the day she woke up in that alley. She doesn't mention the irony of that to them, because she doesn't even know her real birthday. This one will do.
It's close enough to the truth to be easy to remember, though she'd be a liar to say she isn't disappointed about not going to school. Maybe in a while she'll think about some kind of higher education, but for now, she needs money. With a diploma and a fake resume she should be able to find something, right?
They tell her she can come back if she wants, that there will always be a bed for her at the safehouse--but she still packs up the few things she has into a tattered duffel bag and slings it over her shoulder as she leaves. She doesn't want to be caught unprepared, and it had become a habit for her on the station to carry her few precious belongings on her at all times. It's just easier that way.
With the bag still over her shoulder, she makes a pit stop in the kitchen, rummaging around in the cupboard for something to snack on before she leaves.]
she's the last true mouthpiece [BY THE RIVER]
[For a while, she just goes where her feet take her. She's always had a good memory, but is still sure not to take so many turns that she can't find her way back. She feels the sun on her back, and realizes that she hasn't really felt it in months--not since she was on Kaittos. She takes a deep breath, inhaling all the familiar scents of a big city, and exhales slowly. Freedom may be too strong a word. These Morningstar people know that she's a phony, could probably undo her identity in a moment despite how much time they may have put into creating it. But something in her gut tells her they won't. She's been to their safehouse, seen the other people. Cold as it may be for her to think, she takes comfort in that strange sort of safety.
They could kill her, of course, but something tells her they won't do that, either. Not with this thing in her chest that they took the time to put there.
After a while of walking she ends up at the river, and stares at it in awe for a few silent minutes. Again, it's been months since she's seen anything even close to natural like this; even the plants in the station's greenery had seemed sterile, artificial. Nill drops her pack beside her and sits atop it, wings stretching out into the sunlight behind her as she stares down into the rushing water with a strange, unbreakable fascination.]
every sunday's getting more bleak [HONEY❤HONEY]
[By the time Nill realizes she's hungry, she's spent hours wandering around the city. Nobody has really looked twice at her, nor she at them. The anonymity is freeing, and it had been easy to lose herself in it. But she can feel the too-familiar pangs of hunger starting in her stomach, and it's just then that she smells the most delicious sweetness she ever has in her whole life. She follows the scent until she's standing outside a clean, white-washed building with a big glass window. Inside, she can see pretty girls in pretty dresses carrying trays laden with sweets, and for a few moments all she does is stare.
For the first time in a long, long time, Nill feels self-conscious. Because she used to look like that. She used to have long, beautiful hair and wear soft dresses edged in lace. Even on the ship and the station, she'd kept her dresses--mementos, more than anything, of a life that hadn't really been much of a life, but was still more than she'd had before. And she'd lost it all before she'd even really figured out how to appreciate it.
She reaches up, running a hand through her cropped hair. Now she has a new, different life and no real idea what to do with it.
But that doesn't change the fact that she's hungry. Still, she doesn't venture inside just yet, mentally taking stock of the little money she's been loaned and wondering if it's really worth it to treat herself to something like that.]
a fresh poison each week [CUYP MARKT]
[The bustling market makes Nill feel alive.
Everywhere there is activity, new sights and smells, the sound of people haggling, the taste of competition in the air. No two stalls have exactly the same items, but each shopkeeper acts as if they do, calling to each person who passes, hawking their wares and flashing smiles. It's a dizzying amount of sensory input, and even just a few months ago, Nill might have been overwhelmed.
But she's different. She has a different(ish) name and a different path to tread here than ever before in her life. So she feels bold as she approaches stalls, whether to look around or actually consider buying something (food, usually, because she'd rather have a treat than a trinket). She doesn't have much money yet, and knows she has to be frugal--but she can't help but look at some things longingly, mentally cataloging anything she might want to return for when she actually has the means. What catches her attention the most are the fruits, some familiar but many strange; she hasn't had fruit since the planet Kaittos, and her hand hovers delicately over the produce as if it might disappear the moment she touches it. She acts the same around the flowers, remembering fondly the little garden she and Laura had planted on the station before her friend had left.
They're simple things, fragile things, but Nill has always believed in the temporary more than the concrete. Probably because she herself was meant to be temporary. But she doesn't have to be that girl anymore. There may be a lot going on in this city, horrors she hasn't yet seen and fear she hasn't yet felt, but for this moment, all she sees are the fruits and flowers and how absurdly normal this all is compared to the last year and a half of her life.]
we were born sick [WILDCARD]
[ooc; i'm down for anything! over the next few days, nill will explore as much of the city as she can on foot, but will spend her nights at the safehouse until further notice. please feel free to hit me up on plurk at
no subject
the airdrop?
here, i'll show you.
[ with a few blinks, daisy brings up her desktop; the personal workspace expands, trading invisibility for a faint blue glow that illuminates the space in front of them, though it retains its privacy in showing itself to only those she opts to share it with. now, having received a message from the girl, daisy adds her in.
much like her own interests and trains of thought, daisy's neural desktop is organized chaos. posted notes, pinned addresses, a whole section off to the corner for her current mapping project; it's all there, in various stages of completion, to be accessed upon request. for nill's purposes, she opts to click in to a collection of photos taken for bobbi's introductory booklet, all of various points of interest throughout the city. ]
grab what you want, and you just push
[ the reality is as simple as the words. much like drag and drop with a mouse, the neural network's ability to digitally push information to the closest person (or persons) upon request allows for much easier transfers of information, whether at work or at play. daisy's used it for everything from sharing schematics of weapon design to a recipe for dinner.
as an example, she pushes the photos past the digital edge of her own desktop onto nill's. copy, paste. ]
you must be new here
i haven't seen many kiwis around, but there's a stall around that has great prickly pear
no subject
It takes her a moment to figure out what Daisy means, but she's a quick learner and can see now that she also has a desktop, and that the photographs are now... on it. There's no other way to think about it, despite the lack of actual physical objects in front of them. Nill has dealt with a lot of advanced technology over the past year or so, and even been trapped inside a virtual reality for nearly a month--but this is still a little beyond her. For now. She knows she'll pick it up, it will just take practice.
She doesn't open the photographs, but she does grab them and drag them around her own neural desktop for a few seconds, a smile lighting up her face.]
This is really cool. Thanks for showing me.
[It's still strange, not needing to type to send messages like that, but it's just one of a thousand other things she'll just have to get used to.
The blonde glances over to Daisy and gives a slight nod.]
This is my first day out.
["Being new" seems to be something exclusive to people who are brought in by Morningstar, at least as far as she can tell. And if it isn't, the phrasing seems innocuous enough to not raise suspicion. They'd told her to be discreet, after all, and she isn't going to go telling everyone around that she'd woken up drugged with a weird blue glow in her chest no matter how traumatizing it had been. That just isn't practical.]
I've never had prickly pear, but I've had regular pears. Are they alike?
no subject
glad to help :)
[ she's found that, while convenient, thought-to-text often leads to miscommunication. after all, you can't assume tone via text. so daisy's gotten in the habit of adding old-fashioned emoticons to her messages as a friendly gesture, rolling back to her pre-rising tide days on the dial-up era internet. ]
also, before i forget
you're going to want to get a buddy, somebody you can check in with
we're aiming for every other day, but more often isn't a bad thing
you check for them, they check for you -- and if someone's not found, you let someone know, okay?
[ nill will get her wish, because with a few quick gestures, daisy forwards a direct link to the map she developed during the last big firefight. the map is sharable, already coded to be locked to anyone with access to morningstar's servers, but given the amount of information already on the network, she imagines new arrivals won't have much reason to go looking for it. ]
prickly pear's technically from cacti, so it grows pretty well even when we're under water rationing -- kind of tastes like watermelon, weirdly enough
the guy that runs the stand is a big conservation junkie
his prices are good, but he'll talk your ear off
no subject
(:
[The idea of having a buddy isn't foreign to Nill--it had become habit in her last days on the station to make sure she always had a companion. With those monsters running loose and the life support on the fritz, it had just been common sense. It seems that the same sort of thing is true in this place, though she wonders if the reason is more for a domestic threat rather than a supernatural one.
Still, it's an easy enough suggestion to adopt, and she nods.]
I know someone. I will talk to him about it.
[Because as much as she would like to tell herself otherwise, it will definitely take several reminders before Heine gets into the habit of actually checking in with her regularly. But she's willing to put the work into that, for both their sakes.
Her eyes light up as the map appears on her desktop, and now that it's been given to her she doesn't wait to open it. Though she only gives it a quick glance, as Daisy is still texting her, she nods a bit to herself. She'll have to look at it closer once she heads back to the safehouse. She flashes a smile to the woman beside her, truly appreciative.]
Thank you.
[Her brows raise slightly, but that sounds interesting, and like something she'd be willing to spend a little money on.]
I've never had watermelon either. Why is water being rationed?
[She's no stranger to rationing, and while it's a little disappointing to hear, she knows she can plan accordingly.]
no subject
it can take a little getting used to, but it's not too bad.
[ she misses paper more than she misses free use of water. being able to doodle, to write out lists, just to scribble down notes or leave cheesy post-its for fitz to find on his bathroom mirror — none of it important, but a comfort that has no place here. sure, she can do a lot of that via the implant, but it's not the same.
finding replacements for creature comforts has been the most challenging part of daisy's existence … aside from catching a rage virus, getting brutally injured, and then disappearing, anyway. the most mundanely challenging part, she should say. ]
i'm guessing you're still shacking up at the safehouse, then?
no subject
So she smiles, nodding.]
I think I will be okay.
[It is strange to not have paper; that was something that had been plentiful on the station. There were entire labs full of mostly-empty notebooks and pencils, and she'd become used to writing quickly solely for the sake of having conversations as close to real-time as she could. It had seemed weird, then, to text someone when they were speaking to her; too impersonal, somehow, even if they were standing right beside one another.
But here, everyone does it. So maybe it doesn't have to be so weird anymore.]
Yes. It seems like the best place to be until I get my bearings.