deshabille | one ☼ spam + video

Entry tags:

one ☼ spam + video

spam {may 2}

[She knows they say the Turtle moves, but technically that was one of those things that wasn't said aloud much back home. Either it was an Abomination or it was generally frowned upon, and even her life as it was then didn't shelter her entirely from the taboo of discussing certain subjects. Not that she paid attention to taboos; she was simply aware of them.]

[Here she feels more intimately connected to the movement of the Turtle, despite the fact that it's not here. Space is, and that's what matters; if she closes her eyes she imagines she can feel the rocking of the boat, the push of flippers. It's a nice thought, anyway, so she closes her eyes slightly more often than usual.]

[It doesn't take long to explore the whole Barge, so she does it again for good measure. Then, when she's satisfied she's seen everything there is to see, she finds a corner of the deck to tuck herself away in and stays there for a while, smoking and considering the stars. They, like the stars at home, will constantly change. She finds this familiar, if not comforting.]

[A cigarette dangles from her fingers as, slowly, her gaze moves from the "sky" to the others on deck. She takes a drag, lets smoke curl between her lips, eyes bright with curiosity. And she smiles.]

video {may 3}

[All that's visible at her back is brown canvas, and the light is low, which may or may not be intentional. But Mal is smiling, truly and deeply pleased.]

All the amenities here, I see. [It's mostly sarcastic, but also a good, secret way of saying, hey, this thing is really neat and I want to know how it works even.] I'm not going to bore anyone with my unfamiliarity with certain things, because I'd absolutely hate if anyone did that to me, but really, well set-up. Although too small.

[She leans in slightly, head to one side.]

I can't decide if it's run on magic or something else, or if there's even an answer that makes sense or it's just one of those things you're not supposed to question - and I'd anticipate that the Admiral doesn't respond well to constructive [ha] feedback, though I'd still guess I've served under worse - but there is a kind of magnificence in the ship itself.

Unless you've seen more impressive, of course. In which case, feel free to correct me. [And tell her all about what's more impressive than this.]

[She pauses as though considering saying something else, and finally settles on,] Introductions are tedious, but I'll get them out of the way now so I don't have to later. Call me Mal. I'm new. Obviously.

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[Lisbeth makes her way up to the deck not long after Mal is there herself, pausing briefly by the access door to light up her own cigarette. She's rocking her Mohawk today, black eyeliner and leather pants, a worn-in ripped-up dark blue t-shirt with the words fuck you you fucking fuck printed in blocky letters.

She has a look. It's carefully constructed most days. Today she's doing laundry.

As usual she scans the deck and the inhabitants for anything out of place, careful to be aware of her surroundings at all times. Though her eyes linger briefly on Mal during her initial sweep, she doesn't look again until she wanders to the edge, leaning against the railing.

Then she looks for real.]

[It's the strangest thing. Underneath all of it Lisbeth doesn't look that similar, but there's a certain neither-here-nor-there-ness to her that makes Mal's eyes swivel up and watch her as she crosses the deck.]

[She can't help cocking her head at the shirt, though she very quickly starts watching her eyes. Eyes are revealing. Lisbeth is - cautious.]

[Which makes it much more gratifying than normal when their eyes finally meet. Mal leans back with satisfaction, her head hitting the rail lightly, her legs stretched out in front of her.]

I like your shirt.

[It's easier for her to make eye contact with women in general. When their eyes meet she doesn't look away instantly as she usually does, but lets it linger until Mal speaks to her. Then she averts her attention to the side, as if checking over her shoulder.

There's a tense but genuine smirk tugging at one side of her lips.]

Thanks.

[A beat. She looks back at Mal but doesn't make eye contact again just yet. Lisbeth's own accent is heavily Swedish, but she can't quite place Mal's.]

You're new.

[This is - slow, but not slow. Words are sparing, but there's intent and meaning behind everything. It's a little like panning for gold, and she's immediately fascinated.]

[Though Lisbeth doesn't meet her eyes again, Mal's remain on her face.]

I am. Just got here.

You're not.

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[ He's considering using steel.

It's out in the open. It's exposed. It's not the best idea. But it's been so long since he's done a proper Steeljump and he doesn't like how it feels to always stay on the ground.

He makes eye contact with her. She smiles. And he frowns, subtly, leaning heavily on the tin that enhances his senses. There are a myriad of noises out here. He can hear the air being taken into her lungs. He's not sure he can hear a heartbeat. ]

What are you?

Edited 2013-05-03 00:52 (UTC)

[She doesn't mind him watching back, although usually she doesn't expect people to. Truly observant people are rare. Nor does she try to repress the grin at that question.]

You're blunt.

[There's no heartbeat, never has been. No pulse.]

I'll tell you what I am if you tell me what you think I am and why you think it.

[Actually, she'll tell him regardless. But this is more fun.]

I think you're dead. Or... [ Not dead. There are creatures that don't have heartbeats on his world. Insects, for example. ] Different.

[ He stops several paces away from her. Closer, and the smell of the smoke would sting his now-sensitive nose. ]

I don't hear your heartbeat.

[She tilts her head as he works through it, then nods.]

I suppose different works. I've been called undead, but it's really not a good descriptor. Differently alive's much closer.

[There's a slow blink - the implication that he would hear it intrigues her.]

Do you know what a vampire is?