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Post by Marcus O'Terra on May 25, 2012 18:18:07 GMT -5
Docked at Longstreets Compound
September 8, 2517 - Beaumonde
8:18 AM Local Time
Marcus stood in the galley, the morning after the party at Longstreet's estate.
He had mixed a slather of protein paste with some cinnamon and a few other basic spices to give the goop some flavor. He slapped it on some toast and called it a sandwhich.
He stood there at the counter, eating over the sink. A few crumbs falling into the sink.
His mind was intentionally blank. He kept it quiet before the day kicked off. It gave him room to adapt if someone decided to walk into the room and shoot him dead for some past grievance or other.
It sounded paranoid, but after the second attempt; Marcus decided better clear headed then dodging bullets.
That said; he didn't have a sidearm with him. He also didn't think he'd be violently attacked on his ship.
Until Ilana found out about last night. He looked over some smart paper ads for spas and relaxing spots around Beaumonde. There were plenty in the core quarters, but there legitimacy didn't fall off as he went down the price scale.
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Post by Ilana Logan on May 25, 2012 19:23:47 GMT -5
When Ilana had left the party the night before, she'd returned to the ship, about a third of the way to being pickled, having had several drinks after the weird situation with Ray. She wanted to forget that as quickly as possible, so she'd walked into her bunk, and opened a bottle. She managed to drink nearly half of it before she forgot everything, right up to her name, and fell asleep.
She woke in the morning with a weird reverberation going through her head. It was throbbing in time with her heart, but it didn't hurt. Not really. It was a very strange feeling. It gave her a feeling of dizziness and near weightlessness. She sat up and swung her feet to the floor. She looked down at her feet as she stretched and wiggled her toes. She stretched her back out then and stood up.
She looked down at her clothes, realized she had managed to change out of her dress, though she didn't really remember doing it. She shook her head, realized that was a mistake when the room tilted as though she was on a boat, the kind that floats, not flies. It wobbled a bit and considered her current attire. She was in long pajama pants with different class ships all over them and a white tee shirt.
"Fuck it," she said aloud, to herself. "I'm clothed. Anyone doesn't like it, too bad."
She didn't bother with shoes, so she padded barefoot up the ladder from her bunk and walked down the hall and through the ship. Having nothing on her feet was a different experience in the ship. Not only did it make no sound, the floor felt strange on her feet. She remembered the dream she'd had of walking barefoot through the ship while she'd been in the hospital. At the end of that dream, Ray had killed her. She shivered slightly.
At the galley, she paused in the doorway. Marcus was eating a sandwich over the sink. The thought of eating made her want to be sick. She did want coffee though. She walked into the room, as softly as she had walked through the ship to get to that room. She went silently to the coffee maker and put the fixings in for a strong pot.
As she poured the water in from a pitcher on the counter, she spoke without turning to Marcus, "Don't worry, I'm unarmed."
When she was finished with the coffee, she pressed the brew button and walked to the table. She sat facing away from Marcus, her head in her hands. She thought over the night before, and what she had learned, what she had experienced, and discovered she wasn't angry with Marcus anymore. She knew why she had been. She was concerned for all of them. He'd basically spit in the face of their employer by giving into his primal urges right out in the open. She wasn't angry, nor was she going to get that way, but she was going to talk to him about it. That was unavoidable.
"Marcus…" She began softly, trailing off slightly at the end. Just as softly, with no inflection in her voice, she said, "What were you thinking?"
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Post by Marcus O'Terra on May 26, 2012 2:42:08 GMT -5
Marcus had half finished his sandwich when he heard the patter of feet walking across the floor. He turned and saw Ilana, a look of disgust on her face. His gut fell and his appetite started to fall off. He chewed the same bite of bread and paste as she moved behind him, making the coffee.
Marcus processed, through the clutter, that she might be hungover. He set the sandwich on a napkin and poured water into a glass that sat near the sink. He took the sandwich in one hand and the cup in the other.
Ilana's voice sent Marcus's heart racing. She spoke quietly in a very level way. Something in him felt, not excited, but alerted by the tone. He set the glass of water in front of her before he sat down at the table across from her.
"I've spent the last year being shot at, kicked in the gut, thrown into escape pods, chased by Reavers; It generally felt like I was being tossed around by a 'Verse with two different Almighties were arguing over my fate: three, when things were bad."
He took a bite and let her chew on his words. He hadn't gotten around to the party yet, but there was always the chance of someone else walking in. He didn't want to say this too many more times. He had promised Jay an explanation, once he woke up-
A thought flashed of Jay in a shower.
-he'd, wait. what? He blinked hard with the mouthful of sandwich and paste. He looked at the sandwich, then at doorway towards the front of the ship.
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Post by Ilana Logan on May 26, 2012 11:41:29 GMT -5
Marcus placed a glass of water on the counter in front of her after she spoke. She looked up at him with only her eyes, gave him a soft, "Thank you," and lowered her eyes again. Her head felt way strange. It had been a long time since she'd drank that much. She hadn't had reason to fall that far into a bottle in a long time though. She heard the chair across from her scrape softly on the floor then she heard his weight settle into the chair.
His voice came to her through the painless pounding in her head. "I've spent the last year being shot at, kicked in the gut, thrown into escape pods, chased by Reavers; It generally felt like I was being tossed around by a 'Verse with two different Almighties were arguing over my fate: three, when things were bad."
She thought for a moment before she responded. She'd been through many of the things he had, just not while she was with him. She hadn't been chased by reavers, but she'd been bitten by one. A reaver survivor, turned reaver upon the snapping of his mind after everything he had seen. She knew it wasn't a contagion, or she would have it. She decided to go about what she was going to say next a little differently than she normally would. She really was trying to understand him here, and she didn't want to start a fight. She listened to the coffee maker run and took a sip of the water Marcus had gotten for her. It felt so good on her tongue. Cool and hydrating. She wanted to slog down the whole thing, but she knew better. She'd end up puking in the sink. Neither of them wanted to see that, she was sure of it.
She turned in her seat a little swinging her legs, putting her left side against the chair back. She pulled up her left pant leg and stretched that leg out, revealing a dark, clear bite mark scar. "I've had my own experience with reavers."
She let her leg stay stretched out for a moment, so she knew he got a good look at it. Then she lowered her leg to the floor and let the pant legs slide back down to her toes. She turned back in her seat to face him again, and she finally met his eyes. "I've been shot at more times than I care to remember. A couple of those times I was with you. I've got the bullet holes to prove it. Four of them, three different bullets. I've been chased, beaten, shot, and chomped on. I'm just trying to understand your reasons here Marcus. I'm not judging you. If you would have caught me last night, while I was piss drunk and angry at the world, yeah I would have, but not now," she said, in an empty tone of voice, hoping the sincerity showed on her face. She didn't have it in her today to put much inflection in her tone. Her head was swimming.
She left it at that for now. Letting him hear her words, and hoping he knew she meant what she'd said. She took another sip of water, and again fought the urge to drink it all now. She listened to the coffee maker run some more, and waited for him to respond.
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Post by Marcus O'Terra on May 26, 2012 11:53:51 GMT -5
Marcus watched as Ilana sipped at the water. It had been a while since he'd let himself get utterly plastered. His common sense didn't meet par for his life as it was. Boozing up didn't make sense to him. But he wouldn't cast judgement. Glass freighters and all that nonsense.
She showed off her scar, and mentioned bullet holes. Marcus almost smiled. He wasn't wearing shoes so he set his foot out where she could see it.
"That's from an Alliance Marine Officer. When I objected to how I was being treated." He sighed. "And that 'interesting scar' mentioned was when an assault rifle.... shot me through the ass." He admitted. "But let's not compete on scars."
He wasn't even going to bring up the bullet storm they'd thrown themselves into. Marcus had served in the war, but this was peace time, or so the core claimed.
Ilana didn't seem to pursue her initial question. But Marcus felt like gushing a little.
"Sometimes I worry I'm still on Hera, or some other battlefield I shouldn't have survived, but for the luck of the 'mighty'. This is all just a dream playing out. Years in seconds, as I lay dying. So I do crazy things that break the pace of the dream. It's how I dealt with nightmares. Doesn't work so much now."
He let that be it for the moment. Ilana was tired and likely not going to remember much of this. Then again maybe she might.
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Post by Ilana Logan on May 26, 2012 19:07:20 GMT -5
Marcus held his foot out, showing her a bullet hole in the top of it and she looked at it carefully for a moment, then he said, "That's from an Alliance Marine Officer. When I objected to how I was being treated." He sighed." And that 'interesting scar' mentioned was when an assault rifle.... shot me through the ass." She lofted a brow at the mention of him being shot in the ass, understanding why Rienna had called it a 'sight to behold'. "But let's not compete on scars."
After a moment, he said, "Sometimes I worry I'm still on Hera, or some other battlefield I shouldn't have survived, but for the luck of the 'mighty'. This is all just a dream playing out. Years in seconds, as I lay dying. So I do crazy things that break the pace of the dream. It's how I dealt with nightmares. Doesn't work so much now."
Ilana thought about that one for a moment. It was a strange thought, and entirely too possible for her peace of mind. She heard the coffee maker stop, and got up to make herself a cup while she was thinking of how to respond. She got a mug down, poured it, added a touch of sugar, and returned to the table. She sipped it and closed her eyes, a small smile on her lips.
She opened her eyes and looked at Marcus. "I wasn't trying to compete on scars. I was only meaning to show you that I understand at least part of what you've been through. You've told me things before that I know I'll never understand, but I've been attacked by a reaver, I've been shot at and shot, I've spent my life living it as though there'll never be another moment to enjoy after the one I'm in. I speak without thinking, I let my emotions rule me more than I should, I fight for what I think is right, and I take things personally, but I live like it matters, because it does," she said, this time having a little inflection in her voice, showing feeling.
She took another sip of her coffee and went on, "I don't have nightmares often. I've had a few in the last month, mainly having to do with that horrible mess at the compound. I never realize I'm dreaming until I wake up, so I get how you could see things that way. I wake up in cold sweats sometimes, having to fight the urge to fire off a round when someone from my dream follows me into the waking world for that brief instant when I'm not fully awake yet. In the dark, it's hard to tell, especially when you've woken up in your nightmare three times already."
She mentally shook herself, managing to stop talking. She didn't know why she'd said so much, but it probably had something to do with the way her head was swimming. It was getting better though. The thumping in her head had lessened some, and she was only a touch dizzy now. She took another sip of coffee.
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Post by Jay Fuller on May 27, 2012 22:26:08 GMT -5
Jay woke up earlier than usual that morning. Instead of getting up, he opted to lie in bed. He drifted in and out of sleep for a couple hours. Images jumped back and forth from the night before. Walking into the party. He was excited for the fun, the dancing, the food. Something swanky and fun. Soon Ilana and Ray began to fight. Had Jay known better, he would have said the sexual tension was thick enough to cut with a knife. Then Marcus slept with some floozy at the party and got beat up by Carl for it. Talking to Longstreet...then Marcus and Jay got a cab back to the ship...there was some kissing somewhere?
Jay opened his eyes. No. He stared at his ceiling as the flashes wove their way together. That last bit was just a dream. He must have just not remembered it incorrectly and added it into the rest of the mix. Besides, getting romantically involved with anyone on the crew was a terrible idea. Besides, it didn't help that the only romantic possibility he could ever have was Ilana, and she was a girl.
"Okay," Jay said aloud. He sat up and stretched. Then he flopped back on the bed. He did this two or three times before he finally got up and put on a shirt. He grabbed a towel and went to take a shower. After about fifteen minutes, he hopped out and got dressed. After he put his dirty clothes and wet towel where they belonged, he climbed up to the walk above his room. He walked across the ship to the galley.
"...especially when you've woken up in your nightmare three times already," Jay heard Ilana's voice come through the door.
"I think you've woken up in this ship a little more than thrice," Jay said as he walked in. He smirked at her. He saw that her and Marcus were in a pretty serious mood. "Morning, guys. Why the long faces?"
He walked over to the counter and poured himself a cup of coffee, adding a good amount of milk and sugar to it.
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Post by Marcus O'Terra on May 28, 2012 12:44:47 GMT -5
Ilana got up to get her coffee and Marcus rubbed the bridge of his nose while she was from the table. Well she'd forgiven or gotten over it. That was good. Jay, he didn't know about Jay. Ray? Ray probably wouldn't give a shit, if he did; it might be along the lines of Carl's thinking.
Which would be bad.
He woke up in the morning so what happened that night didn't press anyone to commit murder. That was alright. That was good even.
Ilana came back and remarked on his jab at comparing scars. He didn't think he'd struck a chord but she started speaking about herself and how she lived in the moment and Marcus began to smile. Much of what she was saying was how he'd described his own life. He smiled warmly and nodded.
She spoke of nightmares and Marcus felt his hands get a little cold. Images flashed in his head of the cage, the reavers, the screaming the gunshots. Burts roaring. His eyes glazed over as he became lost in thought
Jay walked in and Marcus broke out of his daze.
Marcus cocked his eye at Jay's insinuation. "Well that's not very nice." He laughed. How was this going to play out now? Jay feeling angry, get over it and move on, wait for Ray?
Time would tell. Marcus smiled and finished off his sandwich.
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