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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
by the river
When Nill's close enough in his periphery, he turns his head, dark eyes surveying her appearance. Cain recognizes her immediately as one of the other new arrivals; he visited the safehouse for Deimos' sake but kept a distance from most of the others. She may recognize him, too, if she paid attention. He's dressed in neutral shades except for the very bright, highlighter-yellow tank top he wears.]
Hey. [He doesn't appear particularly approachable, but he calls out to her all the same: like a bark, shoulders a tense line across.] You're one of the new ones, huh?
@ the market.
she's there today to pick up something for dinner, and though she usually is easygoing enough with the local shops, the vendor today seems to have a real hard-on for over-inflated prices. ]
Do you believe this shit? [ she says it to no one in particular, but it happens to be directed to the girl next to her. wings, she thinks, but the thought is brushed away fairly quickly by the argumentative vendor trying to get her to agree to more than last week's cost. ] I'm not paying you that much. No way.
[ her full basket gets dumped on the counter in irritation, and then daisy turns to the stranger again. she hasn't made rounds yet in the safehouse this go-around, considering she was in the hospital and then out of the city for a while, but she can still be nice either way. whether or not this girl's a recent arrival (one of us), she still doesn't deserve to get scammed. ]
Don't buy from this guy, he's an asshole.
[ the vendor shouts, pride smarted and products unbought, but daisy just rolls her eyes. she gestures towards another stand around the corner. ]
If you want fruit, that's the guy to see.
no subject
His greeting is met with a slight incline of her head, followed by a nod. She does recognize him, now that she's looking more closely. She'd seen him in the safehouse a couple times, looking as if he was visiting someone. That must mean he's one of the people Morningstar brought in--as far as she knows, nobody else knows about the safehouse.]
no subject
She jumps a bit when the baskets' contents hit the counter, but when she's addressed fully, she inclines her head slightly before nodding. Yeah, he is kind of an asshole, and she hasn't even spoken to him. Blue eyes flick towards the indicated stall, and a shy smile breaks over Nill's lips. Now that she's looking over there, yes, it seems like a much better place to shop.
Ignoring the shopkeeper's spluttered protests, she turns away and gestures towards the other stand, looking quizzically at the young woman. She could use some company.]
no subject
the silence is weird, admittedly speaking, but not uncomfortable. there's a lot to see in this small space, and she can't help but notice the way the other girl takes in the sights, as if seeing them for the first time. a recent arrival, if she had to guess. ]
I'm Daisy, by the way.
[ she doesn't know the other girl's name, so the new amsterdam equivalent of a friend request is sort of out of the question, but she does have an alternative. a trick she picked up at work, an implant adaptation similar to airdrop on an old-fashioned iphone. the closest neural desktop (which, unsurprisingly, happens to be the blonde's) receives a photo: the front of a grocery store — the grocery store, the civilian front for morningstar's safehouse — with daisy's face in the reflection, a futuristic yet retro version of a myspace selfie. tagged on the photo is daisy's own neural id. ]
If you get scammed again, feel free to give me a ring. That guy's ... [ she huffs ] He likes to rip people off, you know? Just because he's the only dude in here with bananas.
no subject
Subtlety and tact aren't his specialties. Cain turns where he's seated, upper body twisting toward her.]
You got a name?
no subject
At least, that's what she thinks until a picture and an identifier pop up in her field of vision, something she still isn't quite used to but is finding actually pretty interesting.
Her brows raise slightly at the information drop, but then her face lights up with a smile. She immediately sends a message to the ID:]
Thanks. Bananas aren't even my favorite. I like kiwis. I'm Nill.
[And almost immediately after:]
How did you do that?
no subject
But since he's asked another yes-or-no question, she sort of can. Nill nods, unable to stop a small smile from tugging the corner of her lips. Yes, she has a name.]
no subject
That curve of a smile in addition to her general demeanor suggests more than timidity. He plants one hand in the grass and levers himself up to stand, gaze turning more critical.]
Cain Fighter. [Not his real last name, not even his real first name, but it serves for an ID. Whether or not she's as quiet as myshonok, he decides this will serve better than verbal confirmation. It's something they all share sooner or later, anyway, those IDs.] Look me up.
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
I'm Nill.
[Nill Klein as the ID says, though she's never thought much about having a surname. It's what they gave her, and it had seemed alright at the time. It's just another part of the fake identity they'd made up for her, along with her age and her schooling history. But those things will give her a degree of freedom that would have otherwise escaped her if they hadn't lied on her behalf, so she's thankful, despite the way they'd brought her here.]
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
You don't like to talk, huh? [Now standing, his arms cross over his chest in an automatic posture. After a moment, Cain's expression creases in thought.] Or can't.
[Which one is it?]
no subject
It isn't much, really, but it still feels good.
His question is direct, and a part of her appreciates that, though she also recognizes that maybe she should find it rude. But she doesn't, not really. A question just spares her the whole song-and-dance of trying to delicately explain that she's mute.]
I can't.
[A simple answer to a simple question.]
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
As Markus got him wondering, what is her world like, that wings are attached to someone's back like some pet in a cage?
Cain doesn't move away, but he does half-turn toward the river, his question answered.]
With all the tech they got here, you think they'd be able to fix it. [If they can turn an android into a perfect replica of a human being, shouldn't they be able to restore someone's voice? That is,] If you wanted to.
[His dark eyes tilt back toward the river.]
You ever seen anything like this before?
no subject
Her heart is pounding a little, and she's only just now realizing it.
She follows his gaze, and shrugs.] I'm okay with how I am. I've always been like this. [It's a smaller thing to admit than it used to be; but she's had the opportunity already to change herself, to be fixed. And only once it had come close to reality had she realized that she was broken, yes, but not in a way that made her weak or useless. Those fractured and ill-fitting parts of herself just make her who she is.
A small smile touches her lips.]
Not for a long time. And there wasn't anything like this where I'm from.
( hello is it garbage collection day yet )
where are you?
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?
( every day is garbage day with heine )
But here she is, nearly as free as she felt on Thisavrou, and here he is, texting her only a little late in recognizing the freedom that she's still has a hard time accepting herself. She texts back quickly, a little out of habit and a little because she's excited to hear from him.]
Looking for food. Where are you?
no subject
it is a shock for him, even if technically it has only been a span of a month or two - it's not just the physical change, either, though that still takes him aback when he isn't expecting it. ]
looking for you.
don't wander around.
[ he doesn't mean to sound like a fussy mother hen - that's really the furthest thing he intends to be - but there's much to look out for in new amsterdam. ]
no subject
That reply surprises him, but then, maybe it shouldn't. In a world where a thought can instigate conversation, words etched across one's field of vision, maybe someone's voice isn't that necessary. Cain's never thought about it like that.]
I know someone who doesn't talk much. Called him little mouse, in our language. [He doesn't know why he's saying it, or why he's sharing it with a stranger, but Deimos is at the front of his mind considering his recent and unexpected arrival. That, and it feels... easy to talk to someone who won't verbally respond. Cain taps the scar at the back of his skull,] He's way more chatty with these things too.
So, you're not from Earth? [It's an assumption: no rivers, no Earth. Is it a correct one? Tilting his head up, Cain looks at the sky -- the slivers of it visible through the jigsaw pattern of high-reaching buildings.] Where? Up in space?
no subject
She can't help but feel a little guilty at the admonishment, but she shakes the feeling off. Even after so long, she's used to Heine giving her direction like that. Don't leave the church, don't be alone in a room with Bishop for too long. So many don'ts that she can't help but listen to--but only because they come from Heine.]
I can head back to the safehouse.
no subject
I think it's easier. You don't have to worry about inflection with typed words. You just say what you mean. There isn't any more to it.
[That isn't how everyone feels, she knows. People who are used to speaking with voices are always looking for those little extra, hidden cues. Nill herself is pretty adept at catching them, since she spends most of her time listening to others, but when it comes to using them, she doesn't see the point. There's no easy way to translate them into text, anyway. Emojis are the closest she's ever gotten, but those can still be misinterpreted. So she makes it a point to be straightforward as often as she can with messages.
She tilts her head back slightly, looking up at the gloomy sky. She's not from space, not really, but it had begun to feel like home since she's spent the majority of the past year up there. Eventually, she shakes her head.]
I'm from Earth. A Earth. [It's been obvious to her for a while that there's more than one.] But I was in space for a while before coming here.
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.
no subject
He lets her talk, most of his attention having centered back on the river. He's found himself often drawn to it, and he's not shy to admit its power over him. All of Earth is a strange and puzzling reality around him, similar and yet unlike anything he's imagined.
Cain reads the sentences of text that scrawl across his vision before responding.]
It's weird standing here, isn't it? After being up there. [He gestures toward the dark sky, difficult to see.] I don't miss it.
[Thoughts circling back to her earlier words, preserved to him in the message, he says,] You think people don't say what they mean when they talk? Or just that it's harder?
no subject
that's fine. i'll come to you.
send me your location?
no subject
She's a little surprised by the offer, but also pleased. By now she's learned how to send her location, and does so. She isn't so far from the safehouse, honestly.]
I'll wait in front of the shop with the blue door.
no subject
A smile flits over her face, and she nods.]
It is. It's weird to see other things in the sky besides stars.
[And, ever-curious, she adds:] Were you on a ship? Or a station?
[She's been on both, though she much preferred the former. The Moira had been failing, but not nearly to the extent of the Avagi. Every day had been a struggle on the latter, a fight to survive. It isn't a time she remembers fondly.
Nill doesn't answer immediately, collecting her thoughts. But when she does, it's with a shrug.]
Both. People can talk faster than they can think. And with text, you have to think about what you're saying, even if the words appear as fast as you think them.
no subject
be there soon
[ the location she sends is an area he's vaguely familiar with; he probably had a job there in one of the shops briefly before he got fired. it's not too far off, as he was still near the safehouse anyway, so it doesn't take him long to get there.
the sun is glaring today - the light too harsh for someone like him who's more used to the filtered, artificial lights, and he's got the hood of his jacket pulled up. stopping in the middle of the street, he squints as he peers around him, trying to pick out nill or, otherwise, the blue door she described, at least. ]
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She almost doesn't see him between the passersby, but eventually Nill spots some familiar gangling limbs and leather pants. It would have been easier to see him without his hood up, but she can't blame him; she's not as pale as him, but she knows that if either of them are out in this sun for too long, a burn won't be far behind.
Pushing away from the wall, Nill raises a hand in greeting. She keeps her wings close to her back as she weaves through the crowd, expertly dodging around people.]
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[Thinking, speaking. Texting via instantaneous thought. He's only ever said the words that came to mind, an impulsive trip off his tongue. Most of the time. There were moments he'd had to slow down, consider the deliberate choice of each word -- never good moments.]
Military station, then a ship. We started out close to Mars, near the colonies, but a volunteer mission had some of us enlisting to go on board a battleship to the frontlines. [He glances at Nill, eyes drawn again to the pale flutter of wings.] Never seen Earth's sky before now.
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Her brows raise. She hasn't met someone in the military in a long time. The last person she remembers was Shepherd, who had taught her how to shoot.
His admission is a bit surprising, but she nods, considering.]
I haven't seen Earths's sky in over a year. But I've seen a lot of other skies.
[She sees his eyes on her wings, and adds:]
My wings are real.
[Because it's easier to get out of the way now instead of leaving him to wonder.]
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And then she says what she does, and he realizes he was caught staring. Cain doesn't lower his eyes, but they do narrow, cat-like.]
How's that even possible? Are you part bird?
[It's the first thing his mind leaps to. Genetic splicing, or something? How can he even begin to know?]
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Let's go.
[ it's just about nearly past lunchtime, but this particular part of town is bustling at any moment of the day (and night), so there would be plenty of choice to be had. Heine walks slow, keeping pace if she wants to have a look around. ]
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Eventually she spots a stand that looks like it's selling some kind of deep-fried bugs, and her interest is tied with her disgust. Still, she points to it and messages him:]
How about there?
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So, she shrugs. She'd told a few people on the Avagi where she'd come from, so it doesn't seem as big of a deal anymore. Or maybe she's still just numb somewhere deep inside from the suddenness of her arrival and isn't thinking straight. Either way, honesty is the easiest way to go for the moment.]
Sort of. Maybe. I'm not a scientist.
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He's no scientist either.]
Huh. [It's not his business, Cain tells himself, even if he's never seen a real bird in person. The feathers look so delicate.] Well, good luck with the sightseeing tour. Nill.
[He has a shift to get to. With a quick twitch of fingers at his temple in a salute, Cain starts off, just like that.]