Call Me Saturday (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
wheyoftheadept) wrote in ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png)
goneawayworld2020-05-01 01:10 pm
wheyoftheadept) wrote in goneawayworld2020-05-01 01:10 pm
Entry tags:
Your Friendly Neighborhood Shadowrunner
Who: Saturday… and you?
What: Open prompts
Where: Locations noted in title
When: in the period between the intro and the next big event
Warnings/Notes: Second prompt may lead to discussing disturbing events in Saturday’s past. No sexual assault, but warnings for violence, child abuse, and eldritch horrors.
1. Free Tickets to the Gun Show [location: communal bathrooms]
Saturday looks at herself in the mirror and nods, satisfied. Even Maggie couldn’t argue the rightness of this; these uniforms were hideous, and too long, and she didn’t like them. Therefore…
She picks a thread out of her newly-created sleeveless jumper. It won’t stop unraveling, so she yanks and breaks it. Her former sleeves lie limply on the sink before her as she admires herself. The room is empty (to the best of her knowledge); her dignity is safe. She starts striking poses.
In her defense, those muscles are pretty impressive.
2. Let Sleeping Adepts Lie? [location: gardens]
The gardens aren’t really gardens, except for the patch that Bunny and Gadget have taken over, but they’re green and they’re quiet and it’s easy to avoid people. These qualities are why Saturday is kneeling in a remote corner of them, hands cupped open in her lap the way her father taught her. Holding emptiness. Control is an illusion. Go with the flow.
Keep your distance, and she looks peaceful. Come closer, and you can see her jaw is tight and trembling, and tears are trickling out from under her closed eyes.
3. Come Fly Away (Or Dream You Can) [location: rig exterior]
The rain never actually stops, but sometimes it lessens into a misty drizzle, the kind of thing a true Seattleite scoffs at. Saturday, being one of those, is out on the deck. It’s evening, going on full dark; the western horizon in orange fading into pink, and the sky above is clouded velvet. She’s tied cloth around her hands and feet for grip, and is running the pipes. Her shoes are sitting neatly at the base of a large beam. She has no destination in mind, no particular purpose; she isn’t in the training area because she wants to be outside, unrecorded, unmeasured, moving for the sheer glory of it. It almost feels like freedom.
What: Open prompts
Where: Locations noted in title
When: in the period between the intro and the next big event
Warnings/Notes: Second prompt may lead to discussing disturbing events in Saturday’s past. No sexual assault, but warnings for violence, child abuse, and eldritch horrors.
1. Free Tickets to the Gun Show [location: communal bathrooms]
Saturday looks at herself in the mirror and nods, satisfied. Even Maggie couldn’t argue the rightness of this; these uniforms were hideous, and too long, and she didn’t like them. Therefore…
She picks a thread out of her newly-created sleeveless jumper. It won’t stop unraveling, so she yanks and breaks it. Her former sleeves lie limply on the sink before her as she admires herself. The room is empty (to the best of her knowledge); her dignity is safe. She starts striking poses.
In her defense, those muscles are pretty impressive.
2. Let Sleeping Adepts Lie? [location: gardens]
The gardens aren’t really gardens, except for the patch that Bunny and Gadget have taken over, but they’re green and they’re quiet and it’s easy to avoid people. These qualities are why Saturday is kneeling in a remote corner of them, hands cupped open in her lap the way her father taught her. Holding emptiness. Control is an illusion. Go with the flow.
Keep your distance, and she looks peaceful. Come closer, and you can see her jaw is tight and trembling, and tears are trickling out from under her closed eyes.
3. Come Fly Away (Or Dream You Can) [location: rig exterior]
The rain never actually stops, but sometimes it lessens into a misty drizzle, the kind of thing a true Seattleite scoffs at. Saturday, being one of those, is out on the deck. It’s evening, going on full dark; the western horizon in orange fading into pink, and the sky above is clouded velvet. She’s tied cloth around her hands and feet for grip, and is running the pipes. Her shoes are sitting neatly at the base of a large beam. She has no destination in mind, no particular purpose; she isn’t in the training area because she wants to be outside, unrecorded, unmeasured, moving for the sheer glory of it. It almost feels like freedom.
no subject
Saturday finishes her nutrient slop and crumbles the package. Her tears are starting to dry a bit. "Which is why I have to keep going. I know."
no subject
"It was hard to lose people. They follow you and die pointlessly, for do damn reason at all, and there's nothing you can do about it. They're all young. They could've made something of themselves. They could've fulfilled their dreams."
Bleak and blunt, spoken from someone who has seen far too much death for the short amount of time he's been alive.
"But they're doing what they wanted, right? At least.. they died free. And as long as there are precious things within your grasp, you have to treasure them."
Treasure them before that fleeting happiness vanishes. So many times he's foolishly thrown it away.
"In a way, the ones that didn't make it continue on like that, too. Through the living - through their memories."
no subject
She says it softly, without heat. "I really trusted him, you know? I - jesus, I need to tell you the whole story for this to make sense, but - knowing he was safe, during a hard time, kept me going. But he wasn't safe, he was dying, and he lied to me, to everyone, about it, so that he wouldn't worry us?"
Her throat is aching; her voice is strained.
"I miss him so much and I want to fucking kill him all over again."
no subject
Going into battle with a fatal wound? It takes quite a bit of hotheadedness to do that. It hurts to feel the void of a loved one's absence - but perhaps remembering the days before would be better?
no subject
She looks up at the ceiling again.
"He was a really good guy. Funny and sweet, too."
no subject
No matter what happened towards the end, there were always old memories. The fire of the better days. He imagines Saturday had quite a bit of that if the wound of Caim's loss ran that deep.
no subject
"Then there was that training exercise, which - he got swatted by an elephant." The other team had shapeshifted their obsidiman into one. "Musta flown twenty feet. Cracked his head against a tree. Said he was trynna show off to me, but I think he was just bein' a dumbass and made up something romantic after to save face."
That turns up the corners of her mouth despite herself. "And - well, all right, job after that we stole a warship, which was pretty fuckin' cool. But then - "
Then they'd arrived in Thera, and everything had gone directly to shit.
no subject
As she said, that's a pretty fucking cool teaser of a story there. Already a life's worth of adventuring for most folks!
And don't think he didn't spot the hint of a smile. It's good that her better memories are still so vibrant. She hasn't been consumed by something worse. He finds himself glad for that, at least, though he's not sure why.
no subject
Presumably he does. She continues.
"She was being held by this truly massive asshole on his flying castle, which is a thing sufficiently rich bastards do where Caim's from. But he's throwing a party, an' Caim's sister, being a woman of standing, gets an invite. We're infiltrating as her party - Caim's a servant, I'm a protege. And my friend Gray is coming along. She's got a talent for looking like other people, magical, like. First thing that happens is some oily motherfucker with a hairdo compensating for his manhood sees a little elf woman and starts thinking with his dick - "
Saturday had seduced him, then traded places with Gray wearing her seeming, who'd gone off to somewhere more private with the man, knocked him over the head, and rifled through his personal papers - he'd taken her back to his actual rooms, like a chump. She'd managed to find proof of his double-dealing their host, and used that to cause a distraction in the ballroom.
Meanwhile, Saturday and Caim had been bluffing their way through the servant's levels, looking for their target, and found that - and the crew of an airship, captured for failure to pay "tariff" (bribes), their ship destroyed and destined for a life of slavery unless some kind person intervened.
"And, well, we did need a ride off once the fireworks started, and there was a warship in the docks. Our host's pride and joy." Saturday grins ferociously, still gleeful at the memory. "I went back to the ballroom, me and Gwyn made a scene, broke our host's jaw, ended up in the brig. Which was cover for Caim fucking up the engines on the castle to blow a hole in the brig. We get out, the target gets out, the crew gets out, and the five guards at the warship decide they ain't gettin' paid enough. And we sail into the sunset." She mimes it, one hand fluttering off. "Free and clear. We let the crew keep the ship, since we didn't need it."
no subject
"That's a hell of an adventure. Guess nobles are a pain in the ass no matter where you come from."
A noble with a flying castle? As if those bastards didn't have enough reasons to get a big head. Except for Farnese and Roderick they're cool. Everyone else, though..
"The guy should feel lucky you let him live."
no subject
She doesn't call herself cute because she thinks she is; she calls herself cute because she was, for that job. It was part of her cover, being a pretty young thing acing for decadence and chafing under her pious guardian's restrictions. Rich men are so dumb.
"What about you?" she asks, her tears drying on her face. "Do you have any really good stories? What's your favorite?"
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"Nothing grand or noble like that."
There really aren't very many happy memories for him to share. He wouldn't know what to tell her that she'd find interesting. Soldiers like the Hawks only really knew how to kill people for money - there was hardly any liberating or well-deserved comeuppances involved. Those battle tales felt so old, now...
"I did have a time that seemed like a dream... For mercenaries, the best you can find is a good group of companions to rough it with you. People you can trust. It was like that for a few years - though I didn't realize what I had til it was gone."
no subject
She'd understood it, a little, the family dinner after she'd killed for the first time (the one she didn't remember most of her life doesn't count). Everything had seemed too dreamlike, and she'd thought - I can't ever let it touch this, can I?
Great job there, Ramirez.
"I'm sorry you lost them. But there were good times, right?" She's mirroring his technique quite deliberately.
no subject
They were the best years of his life, if the fondness in his voice is anything to judge by.
"If it weren't for them, I don't know where I'd be..."
But he doesn't seem intent on sharing any more - as was also the case with those in his past profession. Probing into one's history almost always uncovered something dirty and unpleasant.
So, he stands up, making his way towards the pathway that would guide them to the eventual exit to the gardens.
"Want to go?"
no subject
"Yeah, I guess so. By the way, did you know the cameras here don't work? They can't see what we're doing unless an employee has eyes-on, no matter what they say. The guy who found out an' told me about it, him and me, we're thinking of trying a little experiment. A little run on the upper decks. Test some boundaries. Not sure if we'll need your talents for that, but if we need you for something at some point...?"
She's almost certain she knows the answer, but one always asks. It's professional.
no subject
Well, whatever. He's assuming it's some kind of magical scrying device. Doesn't really matter if they're not working, right? Jorg is blind for a while. Works for him.
"Sure. Not sure how useful I'll be to you without my sword, though."
That was the real center of his destructive ability, though he would make do with his fists in a pinch.
no subject
Of course, in this case, fubar means they all die probably. But in that case, it would be better to take as many as possible with them.
"I'll let my guy know you're in."