Lieutenant Ari Tayrey (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
astrogator) wrote in ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png)
come_sailaway2023-05-10 11:44 am
astrogator) wrote in come_sailaway2023-05-10 11:44 am
We'd be alright if the wind were in our sails
Who: Arilanna Tayrey and You!
What: She's still alive and she has a lot of feelings about this (aftermath of event)
When: Post-event, catch-all for May
Where: Outside her cabin, shops, bars, lounge, around the ship in general
Warnings: She's likely to be depressive, possible talk of suicide and oblivion, property damage with a gun, will update with anything else.
1. another night in jail wouldn't do us any harm [existing CR, outside her cabin/texts]
[Sparkles vanished. She can't fault the decision; she'd want to vanish too, if they'd been in each other's places. What this tells her, however, is that there's nothing more she can do right now. Exhausted, Tayrey retreats to her cabin. Some good has been done here, she knows. The dimmed lights are testament to that. The tormented souls are free. But Ari Tayrey herself? She's right back where she started, trapped on this ship, surrounded by people who are now even more pleased to be there than before. Happy prisoners.
She can't bear to be around them. She can't bear to be around anyone, it's as if the lack of privacy she had no choice but to endure has rubbed every nerve raw, and she needs to recover. She scrubs herself clean, getting rid of every trace of sand, every trace of that ordeal. Before she sleeps, she barricades the door, just in case there's anyone cruel enough to try to disturb her.
Talk to her through the door, if you're not worried about making a habit of it. Or text her. Either way, nobody's getting in for several days.]
2. a bottle of rum wouldn't do us any harm [open, shops or bars]
[When she finally ventures outside again, it's for a perfunctory look around, an assessment of what she's missed. Perhaps unsurprisingly, the supply issues catch her attention first. For now, she's not personally worried. Her stockpiles are very healthy – but she's also aware that they're not infinite, and what is currently an erratic restocking system might quickly get worse.
Find her with a backpack, filling it with whatever looks useful. Depending on where you are, that might be packaged food, or it might be alcohol. Brandy and port and beer. This isn't done in busy areas, but she's not really trying to hide it either. In fact, if anyone approaches her, she'll raise a hand in greeting. No smile, though. She's busy.]
3. if the devil's in the road we'll roll it over him [open, various places]
[She's heard it all now. That Yato never returned from that room. That neither did Shiranui. Incongruously, her first reaction was anger. How could he do that? Confess his feelings for her, leave her no choice but to disappoint him, and then disappear? It isn't right. Ari's emotions are so conflicted she struggles to unpick them at all. She's grieving for the loss of a friend, but also for the loss of something that could never have existed, no matter what she felt for him.
She'd been careless. This is why Tradeliners don't get attached.
Her only solution is to keep herself busy. Even more patrols of the ship than before, and long hours bent over her astronomy texts as if she and not Crichton were the one with hidden knowledge that sufficient effort might reveal. Once, she even falls asleep over an open book in the lounge – something she'll be very flustered over if anyone ventures to wake her.
Or find Ari sitting on the ground, gun in her hand, firing short blasts at a nearby wall. The dark scorch marks leave patterns, and she links them together with a thick marker pen. Star charts. Trading lines. A map writ large, drawn out on a ship that no longer seems to be mending itself. An image in reverse, a negative, bright stars rendered as dark stains, signs of damage. And yet it's all very careful, very precise, and there's a strange sort of beauty in it, for those willing to see it.
If she's approached, she'll lower the gun, give the person an expectant look.]
or a wildcard
[Contact me via PM or at![[plurk.com profile]](https://plurk.com/favicon.ico)
MillisaK for a custom starter or to discuss other ideas!]
What: She's still alive and she has a lot of feelings about this (aftermath of event)
When: Post-event, catch-all for May
Where: Outside her cabin, shops, bars, lounge, around the ship in general
Warnings: She's likely to be depressive, possible talk of suicide and oblivion, property damage with a gun, will update with anything else.
1. another night in jail wouldn't do us any harm [existing CR, outside her cabin/texts]
[Sparkles vanished. She can't fault the decision; she'd want to vanish too, if they'd been in each other's places. What this tells her, however, is that there's nothing more she can do right now. Exhausted, Tayrey retreats to her cabin. Some good has been done here, she knows. The dimmed lights are testament to that. The tormented souls are free. But Ari Tayrey herself? She's right back where she started, trapped on this ship, surrounded by people who are now even more pleased to be there than before. Happy prisoners.
She can't bear to be around them. She can't bear to be around anyone, it's as if the lack of privacy she had no choice but to endure has rubbed every nerve raw, and she needs to recover. She scrubs herself clean, getting rid of every trace of sand, every trace of that ordeal. Before she sleeps, she barricades the door, just in case there's anyone cruel enough to try to disturb her.
Talk to her through the door, if you're not worried about making a habit of it. Or text her. Either way, nobody's getting in for several days.]
2. a bottle of rum wouldn't do us any harm [open, shops or bars]
[When she finally ventures outside again, it's for a perfunctory look around, an assessment of what she's missed. Perhaps unsurprisingly, the supply issues catch her attention first. For now, she's not personally worried. Her stockpiles are very healthy – but she's also aware that they're not infinite, and what is currently an erratic restocking system might quickly get worse.
Find her with a backpack, filling it with whatever looks useful. Depending on where you are, that might be packaged food, or it might be alcohol. Brandy and port and beer. This isn't done in busy areas, but she's not really trying to hide it either. In fact, if anyone approaches her, she'll raise a hand in greeting. No smile, though. She's busy.]
3. if the devil's in the road we'll roll it over him [open, various places]
[She's heard it all now. That Yato never returned from that room. That neither did Shiranui. Incongruously, her first reaction was anger. How could he do that? Confess his feelings for her, leave her no choice but to disappoint him, and then disappear? It isn't right. Ari's emotions are so conflicted she struggles to unpick them at all. She's grieving for the loss of a friend, but also for the loss of something that could never have existed, no matter what she felt for him.
She'd been careless. This is why Tradeliners don't get attached.
Her only solution is to keep herself busy. Even more patrols of the ship than before, and long hours bent over her astronomy texts as if she and not Crichton were the one with hidden knowledge that sufficient effort might reveal. Once, she even falls asleep over an open book in the lounge – something she'll be very flustered over if anyone ventures to wake her.
Or find Ari sitting on the ground, gun in her hand, firing short blasts at a nearby wall. The dark scorch marks leave patterns, and she links them together with a thick marker pen. Star charts. Trading lines. A map writ large, drawn out on a ship that no longer seems to be mending itself. An image in reverse, a negative, bright stars rendered as dark stains, signs of damage. And yet it's all very careful, very precise, and there's a strange sort of beauty in it, for those willing to see it.
If she's approached, she'll lower the gun, give the person an expectant look.]
or a wildcard
[Contact me via PM or at
no subject
[She doesn't hesitate for a moment.]
Any intrusion into a person's private mind without consent is unethical. Doesn't matter if you're using it for unfair leverage in negotiating or to get ideas for throwing them a party. It's wrong.
no subject
Despite being brought to the thing it's a long moment before Erin continues, during which she's mainly swirling her tea while she stares at the paper cup with her no eyes.
"...I do value privacy, Tayrey. My people value privacy. It's a hard thing for us to come by, not for the exact same reasons as yours but for ones close enough to rhyme. I think I told you already that like, a hundred of us in one spot is almost a population crisis, biggest Freeholds in the world used to not breach two hundred and they were nightmares to manage. There was no avoiding learning shit that was not your fuckin' business, so...privacy, for us, was often about not asking and not telling, deliberately creating and then respecting boundaries. And...that's...gonna be the case a lot here, y'know? Like, Ylva, right, my girl? She's a wolf. She can't exactly not smell fear off a scared person, or, y'know, detect if you've developed an irregular heartbeat or cancer. I've got my Glamour. We've got at least one antimeme that I can remember and it's not like they can turn that off; can they be held responsible for what they overhear because people just can't fuckin' notice them?"
no subject
What Erin says next, however, makes her brow furrow deeply in concern. It's too much. It's all unbearably too much.
'I don't know if I told you, but some of the best advice I got in training was that it's okay to feel whatever you feel. In our line of work, you're going to be scared sometimes. Nervous. Angry. Whatever. And my mentors told me that it wasn't shameful to feel any of that, because what's in your head, what's private, isn't what you get judged on. What matters is what you do. Whether you have the self-control to set the feelings aside and treat annoying stationers in a professional manner, or lead your own people through a dangerous situation. Whatever's necessary.'
She takes a deep breath. 'What you're telling me is that this is insufficient. That now I mustn't have any feelings at all, because people will know. I have to become a stone. Like one of those... monks Oda hates so much. I can do it, Erin, if I must, but it's going to take time, and until I can work out how to...shut everything down, I can't be around anyone - because apparently there are a lot of people violating my privacy without my knowledge whenever I step out my damn door.'
She's not doing well at being a stone right now. Quick breaths, clear distress in her voice.
no subject
Another way the ship works actively to deny people their privacy. Erin taps her fingers together, hunched over in thought.
"...I'ma say something you already know; context informs cultural technologies. Honoring one's dead through mummification is something you come up with when you live in a desert, not a forest, y'know? Your context has changed; you are not solely among human people any more, and those inhuman people still mean well, and don't want to hurt you."
(Siffleur.)
"Mostly don't want to hurt you," Erin corrects. "I'm hoping, genuinely, that the ring might help, and that's one potential solution, but...well, I'm guessing I'm asking if you can accept, or at least try, to meet them where they are. I'd bet you the kidney of your choice that if you asked Ylva not to talk about what she may learn by mistake, she'd do it. It doesn't even have to be my kidney if you've got your eye on a nice one someone else has." Erin flickers a wan half-smile, trying to be clear she's joking.
no subject
She has been trying not to think of it, since her campaign to stop people looking in that room got precisely nowhere. She's still not over the horror of all that time trapped in a room with all those people, and staying in her cabin alone indefinitely is sounding ever more appealing.
'You're right about cultural context, but what you're missing is that cultural diversity only works when people respect one another's boundaries. I might think it's daft that some colonists won't shake a spacer's hand in case we're carrying offworld pathogens, but I wouldn't force physical contact on them.'
She shakes her head. 'I can't do what you're asking. Someone else asked me that, about Valdis. Couldn't I allow it, accept it, because it's not fair to her not to experience my emotions? As if I didn't matter at all. As if the hurt it caused me was nothing, because oh, someone else wants what you consider private, so better give it up, Tayrey!'
She's still angry with Nobunaga about the stance he took on the matter. Her next words, though, are calmer. 'You may have noticed that I'm not a self-sacrificing sort of person. Here's my line. No. No, I don't want anyone poking inside my mind for any reason. That does harm to me. Whether Ylva keeps it to herself or gossips to everyone on the ship is really only secondary.'
Another deep breath. 'But as you say, people can't help it. So if that's the case, if they can't change, then I have to change myself. By avoiding them, or by developing the sort of self-control that will make that avoidance unnecessary. I don't know how I'd know if your ring worked. I managed to block out Valdis, somehow. I wish I had my geneticist to talk to.'
no subject
The surprise is completely genuine and it even cuts through Erin's exhaustion. She'd be blinking if she had eyes.
no subject
'My geneticist. From the team who designed my genetic modifications. They're experimental, so I was supposed to check in regularly... not that I did that. Went out to space instead.'
no subject
Deep breath. Deep sip. "I'm explicitly not asking you to just accept things as they are. You've got strident principles and firm boundaries and y'know, I respect that. I don't think I get to not respect that from my throne of 'touch me without permission and I'll stab you without a single apology'. If I didn't the ring wouldn't be on offer, y'know? I meant it when I said back there that if you don't want me to harvest from or even around you, I won't. It'll be annoying in the same way trying not to scratch my nose is annoying but, y'know...I value your friendship, Tayrey. I want to help. If I'm asking for your understanding it's 'cause I have to be the monster among conventional people and that...encourages sympathy for others in the same situation."
no subject
How many cups does she have there? Hot drinks aren't a sensible thing to try to stockpile. Tayrey blinks, refocuses.
'From what you've told me, not harvesting anything won't alter the situation. It's that it happens at all that bothers me, not that you profit from it.' She sighs. 'If we can't find a solution, then any friendship between us is going to have to be over distance, like this. That's the best I can offer.'
no subject
no subject
Her expression turns thoughtful again. 'The person I know with enhanced hearing talked to me about it, and he's got the decency to walk away if he starts overhearing things he shouldn't, which is all I can ask of anyone really. Scent-' and now she starts to sound a little uncomfortable. 'Does hygiene help? If I were to wash and change clothes several times a day?'
(Whether or not it helps, that's probably not a path a perfectionist like Ari Tayrey ought to be starting down, not when she's under stress...)
no subject
Erin leans off-camera and searches for something with her hands. She comes back with a little worry doll made of twine, wearing a tiny little graduation cap. "This one I'm gonna need to explicitly ask you not to spread around, alright? It's not anything horrific, it's just...annoying and time consuming. I'd rather offer it than be approached for it, if you dig?"
no subject
She's contemplating the practicalities of very strong scents when Erin brings forth the little doll. It looks strange, and she can't even begin to imagine what the point of it is, but one thing isn't lost on her. Erin is going to considerable effort to try to ease her discomfort. That counts for something.
'Word by contract, I won't mention it to anyone without your agreement, but... what is it?'
no subject
She sets the doll down in view of the camera, and steeples her fingers. "There are, however, tight limits. You've got 24 hours after waking to use the trick, and the ones I'm thinking of would get you about an hour apiece. They can't be stockpiled use-wise either, one trick at a time. That in mind, the ones I'm thinking of for your needs here are two-fold. Most simply, my pact with Smoke can erase all traces of your passage; blood, scent, spit, hair, you won't leave a single trackable sign even if you trip into the perfume rack in the spa. The other will let you turn into an object of your approximate size, which means no biological processes to track. Our spymasters are fond of becoming mannequins for tense negotiations."
no subject
Then she adds, amusement in her voice, 'I'm afraid I've got another of those awkward questions now. Say I'm using that trick with Smoke - does that mean for that hour, I'm in contract with Smoke? Or with you?' Almost immediately she sees the ambiguity of what she's said, and quickly explains: 'Your sort of contract, not mine.'
It really is incredible, either way, but she's nothing if not honest. 'The other, though - I hope you won't take it as ungrateful, because I really appreciate the thought and the effort, but the notion of being turned into an object is - I understand it might be accepted in your culture, but it's not something I'm prepared to do.'
That's diplomatic. What Ari really wants to say is that it makes turning into an animal look almost reasonable by comparison, that it sounds like something out of one of Citizen Yuuki's bad horror movies - but she won't, she knows better.
no subject
Tea! It helps.
"The short answer is no; you'd be, at most, a sort of designated beneficiary for the duration, but with Smoke directed to donate to you like that you may experience a bit of my animistic perception; that is, you might hear or see Smoke trying to communicate with you. It can be stressful until you get used to it."
no subject
'I wonder,' she says slowly. 'It'll be interesting to see if your perceptions bear any resemblance to L-space phenomena. That's all strange sights and sounds. And the occasional smell. What should I do, if it does try to communicate that way?'
no subject
no subject
'Even out on the lines... we've got a lot of better technological solutions, but if all else fails, we do know how to make fires, planetside. Smoky ones if you want to try to draw attention. I'll talk to it, if I can. If nothing else, it'll be an interesting experiment.'
She rubs at her eyes tiredly. 'I'll call you again this way? When I'm ready for testing?'
no subject
wrap here and I'll start a new thread for testing?
Ordinarily, she'd be fussing about reciprocity, about fair contract and not accepting gifts - but this is different. In her mind, Erin owes her for the damage she's done, and helping her now is going to restore the balance between them.
Glorious. Erin's open or inbox works great for me
Erin ends the call on her side.