Jan. 21st, 2015

fridgetothefire: (honed attention)
Self-indulgent Introspection )


[Private to Dean, backdated to right after Chris's post]

I really need to hit someone who's going to hit me back right now.

You, me, the enclosure, ten minutes. Yay or nay?


[Open Enclosure Spam]

[The day after 'sparring' with Dean, Anya is in the Enclosure again. She has a shepherd's sling, tough old cord and worn leather cradle for whatever stones she finds. She hunts birds, strikes them in flight. It's the concentration she needs.]


[6th Floor Spam]

[When she does maintenance tasks, she's got the mask mostly on, moves smoothly, face professionally rather than disconcertingly blank. She works on T'Pol's door, reinforces the frame, adds a biometric lock she can program when she wakes up. She's got half a dozen manuals out on the floor, working through the particulars of Federation - no, Imperial - technology. She gets her meals quickly and eats them off a crate while browsing over the project.]


[Private separately to Zane, Riddick, and Cass]

I'm not good company right now. But if you don't want to be angry alone, you can come hold me.


[Thoughtcall to Jean]

What do you do when you're this mad?

[A flicker of a projection, because she doesn't have words. Like it's eating her from the inside out, like it's eating everything else she tries. It's like being on fire again, the way it consumes her attention, the horror and the helplessness, and she can't even go hazy from smoke.]

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Anya Lehnsherr | Earth 97400

November 2015

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