are you out there? can you hear this?

[not_the_last]

Who: Cassandra de Rolo & OTA
When: November
Where: Around the Serena Eterna
What: on all levels but physical/literal, shouting into the void
Warnings: Game-typical angst, canon-typical angst, others to be added as they come up

A. what's the future, who will choose it

She's ... anxious, she decides, is the right word. Anxious about the Voyager plan. What if it gets discovered and stopped, what if it proceeds as planned but fails to break out of the demiplane, what if it reaches the outer world and is discovered by something only interested in taking advantage of whatever it finds --

The anxiety never gets anywhere near the point of making her want to call a halt to it. Not this time.

Still, she does find herself wandering about near the signpost and its accompanying book, to see who's writing in it. Not that it makes any difference, but ... it's something she can keep an eye on.

B. you never know who's still awake

Cassandra is rarely if ever to be seen around the buffet these days. One might spot her in the kitchens, though, usually very late at night, usually making something involving potatoes and/or cheese. Sometimes, similarly late at night, she might carry a snack to eat elsewhere around the ship; usually more cheese, with crackers, or cured meat, or a little jar of jam or relish of some kind. Usually somewhere that doesn't attract a lot of people, as though reluctant to eat in company with anyone.

Are you up very late and avoiding company too? You might run into her.

C. play the madmen poets

She's aware that it's unwise, perhaps now more than ever, to do anything to shut out or dull her awareness of her surroundings. Nonetheless: it may also be something she needs now more than ever.

As a compromise, she's only using her music player when she's got a good view of the rest of her surroundings, or when she's otherwise fairly sure nothing can get close to her without her knowing. So 'while flying' is a good option, as far from the ship as she can get while still able to make it back before her wings fail; another is perched on a high roof or crows' nest, some spot she can only get to by flying. And occasionally, very occasionally, in the library while seated with her back to a wall

There's so much music in this little box, and she still hasn't heard all of it. This month she's working her way through the repertoire of a bard with a rough but compelling voice, and trying to make out what his verses are talking about. (You don't need a weatherman to know which way the wind blows is possibly the first intelligible thing he's said in this song, and she still isn't sure what he means by it.)

D. wildcard

Comments

C. play the madmen poets

[yourexoduslaughing]

"HEY CASS!" Flan yells as she falls by Cassandra's flying form, ripping through the air with all her hair loose and following her as she plummets towards the waters.

She's back about thirty seconds later, falling in a loop about ten feet away, her hair blooming around her in crazed shapes as she 'hovers' nearby. "Oh whoops! Didn't realize you were listening to music! You want me to bug off?"

[not_the_last]

When Cassandra first sees her plummet past, she automatically folds her borrowed wings and dives, hoping to catch --

-- where did she go? She turns the dive into a swoop and circles back up, tugging the earpieces loose and staring around in every direction.

When Flan reappears, the shock makes her backwing a little ways, flapping awkwardly to regain her equilibrium. "Oh," she calls across, "no, that's fine -- I forgot you can do that, with the ... falling."

[yourexoduslaughing]

"Yeah sorry! I was zipping over there-" She vaguely gestures to somewhere off the other side of the ship, "-and saw you over here and was like hey! I should say hi!! There's not many other people sharing the airspace, just you and a couple of other flyers and shapeshifters! I'm so used to dodging birds and bugs back home! Great dive by the way, if I was actually in trouble, that would have been super helpful!"

[not_the_last]

"Isn't that, ah ..." She gestures a little weakly at Flan's trajectory, falling in a loop. "That is, I mean to say ... are you quite comfortable?"

IT DOESN'T LOOK COMFORTABLE IS ALL, FLAN

A. what's the future, who will choose it

[astrogator]

Tayrey's there today. Subtly capturing her images of the pages, the ones she will soon send beyond the false sky, with hope. This work is undertaken when she thinks she's alone, but in case she's seen by the book, she adds another iteration of her little NEVER A PASSENGER line.

They may think her compulsive about it. Let them. It's in her interest. Tayrey who hasn't been right since the labyrinth, badly wounded last month. Excuses for unusual behavior. Reasons to evade suspicion.

She's startled as she turns to see a figure by the signpost, but it's only Cassandra. Coming to stand by her own little sign, her message of hope, she gives the other woman a nod.

'All's well?'

[not_the_last]

"So far," she says, with a small crooked smile. "And with you?"

[astrogator]

'As expected.' Better than usual. Hopeful.

She looks up at the signpost, those little reminders of where people came from, sullied in her mind by the occasional contribution from a person who wants to stay right here on this nightmare ship. Which exemplifies everything about this place, really. There's nothing good here that isn't spoiled by the fact that she's a prisoner.

'We should examine some of the material together,' she mutters. 'There's enough for that.'

A. what's the future, who will choose it

[crushed_pearls]

There is a careful approach of the Erin, making plenty of sound, so she can hug Cass from behind.

Erin's been here a lot too.

"...Kinda lost it in front of Phil during this," Erin murmurs. "Worried about us all arriving at a world that'll greet us with guns blazing. Somethin' tells me that's on your mind too, my lady."

[not_the_last]

"I saw," Cassandra murmurs, leaning into Erin. "I ... didn't feel it right to intervene, at the time. I hope that was all right?"

A pause. "Not exactly that."

[crushed_pearls]

"More than fine, love. Phil was who I needed." Erin wraps a wing around Cassandra and doesn't comment further; her lady often needs time to approach difficult thoughts.

B

[neverleave]

The theater is usually a good place to be alone, especially at night. Natsuno is sitting on the stage, legs dangling over the edge. He's doodling something in a notebook with special ink borrowed from Rita while listening to music on his earbuds. Still, he's quick to notice Cassandra, mostly because the scent of meat and cheese carries.

Without looking up from the notebook, he calls out: "Want me to pretend you're not here?"

[not_the_last]

The briefest pause.

"You can if you like," she answers, pitched to carry, "but you needn't."

[neverleave]

He nods and lifts his head to look at Cassandra.

"Wanna see what I'm working on?"

They are alone in the theater, but voices carry. Natsuno won't elaborate unless she joins him.

B. you never know who’s still awake

[mistertwister]

Okie stalks into the kitchen late one night, scavenging for abandoned leftovers and aluminum foil. He’s got three plates worth of buffet food, a backpack, both of his axes, and three tote bags with him, as if he was getting ready to leave somewhere. He’s halfway through wrapping a bundle of chicken strips when he hears someone come in.

Without looking up, he says, “I’ll be outta here soon, don’t worry. Sorry for takin’ up so much room.”

[not_the_last]

"Okie?"

Her voice sounds ... cautious, a little uncertain.

(Not alarmed, surely. Surely there's no cause for that.)

[mistertwister]

Okie's face shoots up immediately at the sound of her voice. "Oh, Cass, hi."

There's a half second he lingers on her, before he quickly finishes wrapping so he can give her his undivided attention. "Just doin' some trip prep. Nothin' too- Well, nothin' outside of the normal unusual."

B Evening

[angelofthenight]

From above the secluded corner Cassandra has chosen to eat her late meal in, comes a curious voice, "Why do you hide in order to eat, human?"

Demona has seen this woman doing the same several times already and curiosity has finally gotten the better of her enough to get her to come down out of the shadows and ask.

[not_the_last]

Cassandra looks up sharply in the direction of the voice, and sees only a silhouette. Not one she recognizes.

"It's a matter of personal preference," she says, as calmly as though they were speaking over tea. "As I would suppose yours to be, for hiding when beginning a conversation."

[angelofthenight]

"It is a matter of preservation for me," Demona answers back. "Too often, I am attacked for how I appear."

a.

[decrypter]

It's not hard to see when Helena slips two letters into the book - the paper she uses is a bit thicker than standard, to hold the dots better, from her own notebook. One unfolded, one made into neat thirds. She lingers, with her hand on the cover of the book, before she starts to tap away. There's an aura of calm sorrow on her for it, but she'll go to the railing to listen to the water then.

[not_the_last]

On impulse, Cassandra approaches her at the railing.

"Helena?"

[decrypter]

"Cassandra. I didn't hear you arrive."

Partly because she wasn't paying attention. But she smiles in Cass's direction regardless.

B

[takethatnature]

Wilson wouldn't characterise himself as avoiding company, exactly; it's mostly that he doesn't want to explain to Victor how it can be simultaneously true that he's hungry after trying to sleep, he doesn't currently want to eat any of the ship-generated dishes and scattered ingredients stashed in cabin 124, and he hasn't declared any of that food up for grabs. He's given up on going to bed at a reasonable diurnal-people time after three hound-related nightmares in as many hours.

Which is to say that in the middle of Cassandra's late-night cooking she is joined by a spiky-haired short guy in floral-print pajama pants and an 'I Survived the Labyrinth of Suffering' shirt making a beeline for the slow-cooker. In go a handful of hot dog weiners and a handful of ice before he thinks to say, "Wait, were you in the middle of something?"

[not_the_last]

"Oh -- it's no trouble, there's plenty of room. Unless you need to use the stovetop?"

There's just a small pot there, bubbling away to itself, and the smell of boiling potatoes. There's also quite a great deal more stovetop available.

[takethatnature]

"No, just the crockpot." He frowns at the half-full pot, debating what else to add. Berries, eggs, mushrooms, or honey would have been easy fillers in the Constant, but here they're restocked with the rest of the food when they're available at all. Butterfly wings are right out.

"It always felt like cheating to use just ice," he mutters, heading for the cupboard to have a good rummage.