2024-11-17: Perspective
- Log: Perspective
- Cast: Shelby Korts, Eight Orlodhari
- Where: Ra Mari II, Side 5 Space in transit to Magallanica
- OOC - IC Date: November 17, 0099
- Summary: Shelby has had a rough time since the appearance of the Riptime Dragon Istantarik, and Eight comes to check up on her. They have a chance to talk about what it might mean.
<Pose Tracker> Shelby Korts has posed.
The room she's sleeping in is not unlike the one she stayed in the last time she was on board the Ra Mari II.
The circumstances are not necessarily that different,e ither, but at least she has access to what she needs: A sturdy bunk, a few of her things strewn around the room-- Shelby Korts has always been prone to living out of a backpack or a duffel bag, especially when it isn't any kind of permanent quarters. Her pilot suit, an old relic of her time flying for Axis Zeon, hangs from a hook on the wall and her helmet is set on the desk adjacent to her laptop (that also looks like a relic of computing technology).
When she arrived back, the Jagd Doga was none the worse for wear; it'd weathered some nasty damage at the maw of the void-beast that had slipped through the rends in space-time, but in terms of actual battle damage it's certainly lower priority versus others that were out there. Anser's probably going to be pissed, all the same.
And Shelby? A bit dazed, foggy, and her nose bleeding. She checked in at the infirmary for anti-nausea medication (and threw up in a trash can along the way)-- and that isn't the first time.
Now? The former Ensign-turned-agent is stretched across the bunk with her arms crossed over her face, a means to help block out low light in the room while loud, aggressive music blares from the corded buds that have since fallen out of position in her ears. Her glasses? On a shelf next to an alarm clock, a glass of water, and a few prescription medication bottles.
She's filed some preliminary reports, promising to get more done later-- and also to run the spell checker more than a few scant words at a rip, while --
While she continues to struggle with dreams... memories.
A face with seven jaws. Warped voices. An (un)time that could have been? It all lives fresh in her mind...
<Pose Tracker> Eight Orlodhari has posed.
There's been... surprisingly little that requires an Admiral, in the wake of the battle with the great dragon Istantarik. The Gaia Sabers suffered heavy losses, but no one else seems to have. The battle is over; the results are more suited to a therapist than to Eight. So she took her leave of the bridge eventually and started seeing to people she knew had had difficulties, following her feelings and the reports she was given on injuries.
...And her next stop is here. She had more than just a 'feeling' that Shelby might be having problems. So it's really just a question of what approach she wants to take. Formal and stable? Or informal and understanding?
...Probably...
Knock knock.
She could open the door. She's the Admiral. But she doesn't. "Shelby?" Eight starts. "I wanted to come and see how you were doing."
Her thoughts are scattered; she worries about Shelby, she's very much still reeling over the revelations to do with Yuliana... She wants to see her kids, back in Magallanica. She wants to see Rena, here on the ship. And--
Well, she's in uniform, but the uniform is a little tight around the midsection. For reasons.
<Pose Tracker> Shelby Korts has posed.
There's a presence outside her door, and it's not moving away.
'Shelby?' Her head lifts, elbows pushing herself up. "I'm up," she replies with a grunt, rubbing her eyes and swinging her legs over the side of the bed. It takes a second to get her bearings in the unfamiliar space before she stands, crosses the room, and clicks on the lights before opening the door.
"Eight, hey," she greets. "Sorry, I was laying down. My head's..." A vague gesture; fingers swirling back and forth near her temple. Dressed, comfortably, in an old t-shirt about two sizes too large for her frame and high shorts, there's more to her skin shown than the Admiral has probably ever seen before: From lingering scars caused by mechanically-applied injections and damage from improper IV removal to old cuts and marks on all four of her limbs.
Pulling the chair away from the desk to offer the Admiral, the pilot picks up a small thermos and pulls the straw loose to get a drink of water. "Head's a little, um. Throbby. It's clearing up, though." she finally says. "It's hard to... explain. It's that. Stuff, like Yuliana does."
That damned Void.
She struggles to get the wording right, looking back up at Eight: "Messes with my senses. It's like ... overloading, in reverse," Shelby says, head slanting a bit. "Everything I can hear gets all twisted and jumbled up. Sorry, that probably doesn't explain it that well, does it?"
<Pose Tracker> Eight Orlodhari has posed.
Sure isn't going away. Eight would've identified herself--but Shelby tends to recognize people whether she does or not. Either way, she can wait when Shelby takes a minute. And when the door opens...
She recognizes the scars; Eight has a number of the same that don't show in this uniform. She knows what they're like.
"It's not a problem," Eight says. "Laying down is a good idea for you right now, it looks like."
Head's throbby... Hmm. Eight takes the seat when she's offered it, nodding along. "Still? Even though she's not here?"
She does get the wording somewhat, at least. "Hm. No, deprivation makes sense," she says. It's a word for it! Overloading in reverse. "It explains it fine, I think."
In the light, Eight looks energetic despite... everything.
"Yuliana," she repeats. "If what we saw was true... It was worse than I even thought." She shakes her head.
<Pose Tracker> Shelby Korts has posed.
Picking up the music player, she clicks one of the chunky buttons to shut it off and set it aside, picking up instead her glasses and sliding them on with both hands in a careful, deliberate manner. "Still. It's. ... I can't... no, I can, explain it. It's like getting punched in the face. Hurts when it happens, aches for awhile afterward. When Yuliana gets close to me, everything gets worse. When I get exposed to that... Void... stuff. Like the portal," the young woman says, shrugging her shoulders. "Sucks."
"Deprivation, yeah." Rubbing at her neck, Shelby's hand lingers there for a bit longer as she stops to think. "Yeah. 'Cause it's like. She touched me once. Yuliana, I mean. She like... shut me off. Like. ... It was like having someone cover my eyes and ears. I couldn't hear anyone's thoughts, or sense them, or feel anything."
There's a long silence as she contemplates Eight's words, next.
"Yeah. ... I feel bad for her."
<Pose Tracker> Eight Orlodhari has posed.
Eight barely noticed the blaring music; she's become adept at tuning things out that aren't relevant to her moment. But she notices the careful way... And then--hm. The explanation. "Yes," Eight answers. "...It's worse if she does punch you, by the way." She clarifies that with little humor. "But I understand. I don't get it to the degree you do... But for me, it's disorienting, at least."
Shut her off.
"And it's like that again? Because of the Void dragon?"
Pause. She feels bad...
Eight sighs. "Me, too. But would the people on those ships?" It's a sobering thought for her. "It's hard. You think objectively about the things she and her wife do, and it's easy to call them the problem. ...But would any of us do much better, with a twisted void goddess screaming in our heads?"
"I don't know. It's nice to think so. But it's not that simple."
"I wonder if it'll change anything for them..."
<Pose Tracker> Shelby Korts has posed.
"Wouldn't be the first time I've been punched in the face," Shelby says with a slight, tired grin, letting her head slant back the other way over the hand still pressed to the back of her neck. Hopefully Sophie never finds out about that.
It's like that again?
"Yes and no," she says, being extremely, extremely clear. But, she continues, "First time I fought one of these, I was ... in the Void. Mission I was running with the Shuffles-- mining colony got swallowed up, I was evacuating 'em. Covering their escape. Once we were all clear I thought my head was gonna split all the way open. Being in, um. Normal? Space? It's-- it's still awful, but different."
And the people on those ships?
Shelby sighs, her hand finally leaving the back of her neck, pushing the length of her red-pink hair back over her shoulder. "Probably not." Blue eyes cast down, as though she were looking to the floor for guidance. "And ... definitely not. I don't know. There are times I wish I could help her, and then she just ... does stuff."
"We managed to work together during the end of the Denver Colony stuff, with Rita. Like sometimes, we just... talk? And I think there's a chance, but." Her gaze flicks back up to Eight. "I dunno."
<Pose Tracker> Eight Orlodhari has posed.
"Heh. Me, either," Eight answers with a small smile.
"...I see. Being in the Void directly would be... worse. I'm glad it's not... the same?" It's pretty esoteric, admittedly. But Eight nods along, thinking when Shelby looks down. "Right. It's complicated."
Eight sits back in the chair a little, looking up to the ceiling. "Me, too. I talked with her a lot, when she was... Well, there are times I've talked to her." She doesn't have to talk about the Photon Power League aloud, with Shelby. "Did you know? She helped me get to the hospital when it was time to deliver the twins. ...Carjacked a poor guy to get us a vehicle to the hospital. He turned out fine--I took care of things for him. But it was definitely a startling day..."
"I guess we'll find out. After a revelation like that, I expect them to have to take stock, at least. Assuming that her wife didn't already know--I can't rule that out."
"Well. Take the time you need, in any case. You did good out there. It could've been a lot worse."
<Pose Tracker> Shelby Korts has posed.
"I wish I had a better way to explain it, sorry. Maybe like 'stepping in the water' versus 'going in over your head?'"
"She did wh--" Once again, Shelby Korts is sent on something of a face journey-- starting with disbelief, into questioning, into a bit of a laugh, her face sinking into her hand. "God, that sounds like her when she's not. You know. Being her."
Pulling her feet up onto the bed, folding her legs crossed at the ankles, Shelby finally nods. "Thank you. I can sortie again if we need it before getting back. I'll be okay." She only threw up the one time afterwards, and ... really, more importantly than anything else, there's a certain calming effect when she spends time with people -- at least, the ones that she can trust.
It doesn't tone down the Noise, but it definitely makes it feel more managable.
"I might go take over the galley. I'm starving."
<Pose Tracker> Eight Orlodhari has posed.
Eight thinks about it. That description is vivid enough, anyway. Not that she does a ton of swimming, being in space, but...
"It's fine. You're doing your best." A pause--Shelby's face journey gets a laugh out of Eight. "Right? She before that was all ready to fight me until she found out I was pregnant. ...And she has her nephews..."
Shelby says she can sortie but, "That's between you and the Captain, but I recommend you rest. If we run into trouble before we get back, it'll be pretty unlucky."
She's glad to be able to help, anyway; she has that sense. And...
"Me too," Eight admits. "I'm so hungry. Eating for two again is really starting to get in gear..."
She smiles. "Well, we can go together if you want, or I can leave you to rest a little longer and you can head over in your own time. Either's good."
<Pose Tracker> Shelby Korts has posed.
"We can go together, I can probably whip something up. Depends on what's in the pantry, and if I have to like. Fight someone to get in there. Not that I'd fight someone on your ... old? Ship?" she asks/promises/intones/questions? in a manner that may or may not inspire the most confidence.
Instead, she stands, heading over to her bag to rustle some clothes out of it so she isn't wearing what she slept in to go cook. "Just give me a second to change? I'll be right there."
And assuming she does, Shelby will be sliding into more familiar and comfortable attire, back to long sleeves and leggings that hide those old wounds and give her a moment to stop and tie her hair up
while she thinks about what to make
for two
plus one
but two
but
And then Shelby's door swifly opens again, pointing at Eight's stomach.
"WHOA."
<Pose Tracker> Eight Orlodhari has posed.
"Sounds great," Eight answers of Shelby whipping something up. Then a grin. "Well, I may not be the Captain, but it's still one of my 'ships' these days. So no fighting the staff, yes."
Shelby moves to go change, and Eight stands up, waving. "Sure, sure. I'll be right outside."
She waits. She waits. She waits. And then--
The door opens--
Sure enough, now that she's standing--it's not entirely obvious, but if you know what to look for, Eight is definitely pregnant.
And laughing. Very hard.