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
3
Oh. Oh, it's Lieutenant Tayrey. She's vandalising the wall. That's congruent with their observations. She lowers the gun, so they make themself do the same.
no subject
'I'm sorry if I startled you,' she says quietly. 'I was only...' she gestures towards the wall, because really there isn't much of a good explanation for it, and she doesn't know if others will see the aesthetic merits that she does.
no subject
// It's representational?
It probably means... something. Resolving lines and dots into images is more of a human thing, even if that processor power wasn't locked up in unrequested attempts to calculate the maximum output of Tayrey's gun from the temperature of the casing and the intensity of the burns.
no subject
'It's a star chart. Or the best I can do, representing a trading line in two dimensions. The relative distances and sizes are about right. This is the Keturah Line, from the central worlds to the frontier. The burns are the stars, see, and I've joined them to show how we travel.'