fridgetothefire: (63 o rly)
[Public, video]

If anybody wants to take measurements so they can actually find clothes to borrow that fit instead of guessing and going with whoever offers first, we've got a couple spare tape measures in the maintenance office.

[Asher Lehnsherr: more sensible than you in every universe.]

And try not to stretch anything out. Your counterparts are going to want their shit back in decent condition.

[Public spam]

[Asher can be found in a couple places, in Winchester flannel with the sleeves shoved to his elbows, old burn scars and crisp colorful tattoos tessellating up his forearms. He occupies one of the common rooms with a beer shoved halfway in between couch cushions to hold it while he practices guitar, working out classic rock adaptations of Tchaikovsky and Rachmaninoff for the hell of it, humming vaguely along.

He goes to the gym, unlike Anya, who does the majority of her physical training in the privacy of her cabin, or her teachers'. A long time ago, he was more shameless about urging Wanda to heal his lungs, so he can run through a much longer workout without having to pause and gasp for air - although he still only drills half the styles he knows in public, the half that give him more trouble.

He's in the library as much as she is, practicing languages and picking a new discipline to study, piling a workdesk with books on meteorology. He watches the stars on deck and eats an apple, including the core. He works on the design of a miniaturized maglev engine featuring panes of leaded glass with the maintenance door propped open. He hits the pub in the evening. He'll probably let you in.]

Confidential to Touko, Iris, Ben, Dean, Morgan, and Hannibal )
fridgetothefire: (innocence he said you're alone here)
[Open Spam]

[Anya isn't keeping to her room. She takes up a kitchen shift for a few days until Ben is almost scowling as he insists he's recovered. In her own kitchen, she bakes and bakes - not cookies this time, not sweet things. Just fresh bread, lots of it. She wanders through the hallways, thrusting warm, napkin-wrapped loaves of it at anyone she passes. She sits up on deck. The stars there were basically the same. Like her.]

Some messages: Lua, Erik, Cassel )
fridgetothefire: (curious)

Okay, this is a long shot, but I know we've got all kinds of magic and tech here that I don't know all the capabilities of, so here goes:

Does anybody have, or know of, something that can like...turn memories into photographs? We never really had cameras around when I was little and I guess I'm just. Being maudlin about a few things.

[aka she misses the twins when they were stupid babies]

Confidential to Arthas, Alex, Babs, Cassel, Charles, Erik, Jesse, Tosh, and Touko. )
fridgetothefire: (Default)
[Public Spam]

[She works with her hands a lot, now that she's in the maintenance crew. But there's a difference between fixing things and making things, and her occasional forays into invention in Aeris Navem left her itching to create again. Rather than indulging her inner engineer - who has a tendency to slide a little too easily from 'productive' to 'pragmatic' to 'paranoid' - Anya has her knitting bag out again, clacking plastic needles and all. She sets up in a common room, listening to conversation and people watching comfortably.

She's into her second skein when she abruptly realizes the design she's been replicating on some subconscious impulse: a dark blue and charcoal grey sweater with a herringbone pattern, subtle night camouflage for Cassel the cat burglar on nights when frigid high-altitude winds sliced through the floating city like razorwire. She groans heavily and flings her ball of yarn across the room in moment of pique. Which is a terrible idea, because now she has to collect and rewind the damn thing.]

confidential to Erik, Lua, and Alex )
fridgetothefire: (cast down your eyes)
[Private to Alex, Bruce, Ben, Cass, and Pietro.]

I'm going to be okay.

[Private to the above + Riddick, Felix, Cassel, Rhade, and Dean.]

Let me know if you made it. Please.

[Public, a day or two after.]

If anyone who got hurt is still laid up, in the infirmary or wherever else, and wants me to bring them some books from the library, I'd be happy to.

I can read to you too, if you want, although I can't make promises how long my voice will last.

[It's still a little bit hoarse from screaming, but Anya knows all about painful, boring recoveries. She imagines most people on the barge will have more company than she used to, but it can't hurt to offer.]

[Spam for Erik]

[After a night of deep, utterly dreamless post-adrenaline-crash sleep, Anya manages to drag herself into out of bed, because she can't stand the thought of more trail rations when she could get real breakfast. And there in the hall, just stepping out of his own room, is Erik. He's not her father, he never was and he never will be. But he's something like it, and he told her stories once, trying to protect her from the man who keeps haunting her all too literally. After a moment of staring, Anya flings herself at him and clings on tight.]
fridgetothefire: (Default)
[Spam, public]

[One of Anya's stress reactions is baking. She took a few of Riddick's lunch shifts while he was recovering, and made way too many cookies in addition to actual lunch food. Later in the afternoon, she's skulking around the dining hall and through the various common rooms, quietly leaving batches of warm cookies on tables and counters.]

Confidential to Pietro, Erik, and Alex )
fridgetothefire: (curious)
[Anya looks a little frazzled, shadows under her eyes, hair rumpled. But she's relaxed in a windowseat, with the starfield arrayed behind her, and she looks, if not content, something like satisfied.]

It's kind of crazy. At home, I kept a lot of secrets. And it was vital, my life literally depended on it, but it was easy, too. I just had to let people see the things they already expected. But here, whether it's forcing us to spill it ourselves or bringing other people to talk behind our backs or whatever's next, it feels like everything is conspiring to have us ripped open. And it hurts like crazy but everyone is on display together, and even if there are consequences, nobody punishes me just for being - me. Not yet, anyway.

[A small grin. Gallows humor, or something like it. She's not all that paranoid. Really.]

I don't like it, but at the same time - part of me feels like I can breathe, for the first time in awhile. It's kind of nice, you know? So I'm trying to be more open.

[Deep breath, self-deprecating smile, shy little wave.]

Hi, barge. I've been here for a few months. My name is Anya, and if I haven't met you yet, I look forward to it. Believe it or not, the people I've gotten to know here so far are some of the best I've ever known.

Spam, OTA except Castiel XP )

Private to Charles )

Private to Erik )

Private to Cass )

Spam for Alex )


fridgetothefire: (Default)
Anya Lehnsherr | Earth 97400

November 2015

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