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♻ 002 | spam
[After a few days, Tiffany checks herself out of the infirmary. They were willing to let her go-- except for her teeth, she's mostly healed up; even her bruises are gone-- and she was starting to feel stir crazy, so out she went.
Except now she doesn't know where to go. She knows there's her cabin, but she doesn't want to spend all her time there-- it looks like a Litchfield prison bunk, so it's not the most comfortable place around. She's new, so she doesn't know the best common areas to hang out in. There are a lot of doors, but most of them are unopenable to her. So she wanders.
Despite her bravado and argumentativeness, the things people have been telling her since she arrived-- that she's dead, that she was chosen to be here, that she's here to make amends-- are getting to her. She doesn't fully believe them, but she can't completely disbelieve them either. If they're right (and what if they are?), everything she thought she knew about God and faith and atonement has been turned on its head. There was that man-- that Catholic-- who'd tried to help her reconcile this with what she believed, but it hadn't worked all that well. She's relatively new to her faith, and without someone spoonfeeding it to her, she's shaky in it. She's used it as both a comfort and a crutch in the past, and now she isn't sure that she has it at all anymore. She doesn't know whether that makes her feel depressed or furious; she doesn't know whether she wants to punch someone or curl up and cry. She isn't ruling out doing both.
Predictably, she finds her way to the chapel. Finding a Bible in the cabinet, she sinks down onto a bench and flips through it aimlessly, barely taking in what she's seeing. She tries the trick of opening to a random passage a couple times, but it only ever seems to be just that-- random. Sadness is the overwhelming emotion here-- sadness, confusion, feeling alone and lost. When a teardrop or two lands on the pages, she doesn't bother to brush them away.
At some point, she also wanders into the dining hall, circling the room and poking around for something to do. It's not time for a meal, but the cafeteria was a popular place to hang out and relax in Litchfield, so she figures it might be the same here. Unfortunately, she's leaning towards anger right now, and she's spoiling for a fight. That's not a good thing, on a prison ship filled with inmates just like her.]
[OOC: Permissions post for this character!]
Except now she doesn't know where to go. She knows there's her cabin, but she doesn't want to spend all her time there-- it looks like a Litchfield prison bunk, so it's not the most comfortable place around. She's new, so she doesn't know the best common areas to hang out in. There are a lot of doors, but most of them are unopenable to her. So she wanders.
Despite her bravado and argumentativeness, the things people have been telling her since she arrived-- that she's dead, that she was chosen to be here, that she's here to make amends-- are getting to her. She doesn't fully believe them, but she can't completely disbelieve them either. If they're right (and what if they are?), everything she thought she knew about God and faith and atonement has been turned on its head. There was that man-- that Catholic-- who'd tried to help her reconcile this with what she believed, but it hadn't worked all that well. She's relatively new to her faith, and without someone spoonfeeding it to her, she's shaky in it. She's used it as both a comfort and a crutch in the past, and now she isn't sure that she has it at all anymore. She doesn't know whether that makes her feel depressed or furious; she doesn't know whether she wants to punch someone or curl up and cry. She isn't ruling out doing both.
Predictably, she finds her way to the chapel. Finding a Bible in the cabinet, she sinks down onto a bench and flips through it aimlessly, barely taking in what she's seeing. She tries the trick of opening to a random passage a couple times, but it only ever seems to be just that-- random. Sadness is the overwhelming emotion here-- sadness, confusion, feeling alone and lost. When a teardrop or two lands on the pages, she doesn't bother to brush them away.
At some point, she also wanders into the dining hall, circling the room and poking around for something to do. It's not time for a meal, but the cafeteria was a popular place to hang out and relax in Litchfield, so she figures it might be the same here. Unfortunately, she's leaning towards anger right now, and she's spoiling for a fight. That's not a good thing, on a prison ship filled with inmates just like her.]
[OOC: Permissions post for this character!]
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He had perched himself in a corner, and doesn't notice Tiffany for a while. When he does, he fishes a packet of tissues from his jacket pocket (stolen and mostly forgotten from the last port), and a cigarette.]
Any answers yet?
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[So goes the call of Chris in the dining hall, who's carrying a Pomeranian puppy under his arm, whom he's stuffed into an unfortunate Superman uniform. He "flies" the dog past Tiffany's table, and wriggles the dog gently to mime "laser eyes".
He's not even a teenager anymore, but hell if he's grown up even a bit.]
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[ Dining Hall Spam ]
She's out of the infirmary now, and he's finishing locking up the kitchens after the lunch shift has left. He watches her for a moment, unobtrusively, before approaching more directly. He's young, with bright brown eyes and plain, nondescript clothing: black military field jacket, black BDU pants and boots, and a grey t-shirt beneath that. There's an apron folded in his hand and what looks like a barcode tattoo on the back of his neck.
The military background is obvious in his posture, his carefully neutral expression, and the crisp, clear diction of his speech.]
Excuse me, ma'am. Do you require something to eat?
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Tiffany doesn't actually look anything like Needy Lesnicki, but maybe it's just that Mickey really wants to see Needy right now, because when he spots the short, skinny girl with the hoodie from behind, he could swear it's her for like half a second. It's enough for him to approach her, half-excited, half-pissed off.]
Hey! What the fuck--!
[Except pretty much as soon as he does, he realizes he's wrong. Like, super wrong. Whoops.]
Oh. Uh. Never mind.
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He goes and hovers near her, not quite close enough for his powers to work on her mood, calming and easing, making things fit right. Not everything is right, and he's learning how to let that be.]
I can go if you want.
[But he doesn't think she really wants to be alone.]
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oops I lied time for a tag-in now
He's here for his own purposes on this particular visit, though, the brand new Bible Kieren gave him for Christmas in hand as he kneels down to his slightly unusual devotions. It's when he rises again that he spots her and approaches, sitting down on the end of her pew.]
I'm glad to see you out of the infirmary.
helloooo
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[Spam]
Merlin sits down on one of the long seats, not really noticing the presence of the woman at the other end, but as he looks around the room his gaze eventually circles back to her, and the book she's holding, and the dark patches on the page. His gaze flicks up and he can see the corresponding wet streaks on her cheeks.
He doesn't always have a handkerchief in his pocket, and he doesn't think he put one there this morning, but when he rummages he finds one anyway. He doesn't say anything, just slides along the bench a little and places the folded square of linen within arm's reach.]
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spam - chapel
He doesn't interrupt her, just quietly moves to the front and places both pots on top of the dais at the front, one on the left, one on the right. A little splash of color in the black-and-white-and-wood room.
Zane himself moves quietly and gracefully. He looks older than he is, from the constant wear of a world with a red sun and ash always in the sky. He wears a long cloak, hood off: it's heavy, but not one solid piece, instead woven of dozens of layers of strips, all of them moving in a way that confuses his lower silhouette.
He glances to her only briefly, and then he leaves again.
It's a moment or two later that he returns, and comes up the aisle again. In his fingers, there is a lily, just the blossom and a few inches of the stem. He stops by her, and holds it out to her, a quiet offer. ]
spam - chapel
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He says nothing to the girl, but jumps up onto the bench and curls up next to her. A cat is always good for sadness. ]
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I cackled; best reveal
Pounce should be in sitcoms
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He's not in uniform - just some sweatpants and a short-sleeved shirt, since he came from the gym - and he spots the girl circling as he comes in, although it's not until he's grabbed something to eat - two apples and a roll - that he actually addresses her, given that she's still poking around a little.] Are you looking for something in particular?
[It's pretty obvious where the food is, so.]
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chapel spam; hope a late tag is okay!
[When he goes to the chapel, it's half on a hunch, half simply because that's where his feet take him. More and more people have been using it lately - more and more troubled people in pain. Roderick knows what to do with troubled people in pain, as long as they're not him. He knows how to help, how to draw people out of their shells. How to make them smile, and whole in whatever kind of god they believe in, and whole in themselves.]
[He sits down close to her, but at a respectful distance, his hands folded carefully in his lap. Sees her tears, but doesn't comment on them, and doesn't interrupt her prayers, either, if indeed she is praying.]
chapel spam; totally okay!
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