Difference between revisions of "2022-09-12: Routine"
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| − | + | It's 0230 when she startles awake, hand to her chest. It feels like her heart is trying to rattle her skeleton apart. She struggles to get control of her breathing in the dark. The dreams, again. | |
| − | + | "...another," Sophia mutters, and forces herself to roll out of her bed, padding across her quarters. Her feet are bare, and her legs too. She throws on a loose top, just an exercise tank, before stumbling out into the dark lights of the officer's deck in ship's night. Her path is automatic, finding her way to a side hallway with a view of the outside. | |
| − | + | She plants her hands on the railing, taking deep, tumultuous breaths, watching the clouds outside. It's cold. The climate is set for people in full uniform, after all. | |
| − | + | She still feels like she's boiling alive, running her hand through hair that, unbound, runs down past her shoulder in messy waves. It comes away wet. | |
| − | + | Another deep breath, looking at her own eyes in the reflection. | |
| − | + | "I really do think you should speak to Doctor Kendrick about sleep aids, Captain," Desmond speaks from a corner of the room. He'd been there the whole time, like as not. Like he knew she'd end up here about now, the bastard. "Proper rest is essential to good decision making." His voice is, as ever, infuriatingly mild. | |
| − | + | Sophia sucks in a long breath of conditioned morning air, feeling like her entire nervous system were on high alert. "It's not an issue." | |
| − | + | "Mm," Desmond replies, noncommittal. "As you say, of course, Captain. Only...it does seem like it's been particularly bad this month." | |
| − | + | Sophia openly scoffs, turning a glare on one of the most important people of her crew. "How uncommonly pointed of you. Is that your own concern, or ''his''?" | |
| − | + | Desmond chuckles. "Ah, is that it? Not hardly, no, Captain." He folds his hands and smiles like a saint. "Our good master saw in you the qualities of a king. It is simply my wish to see you fulfill that potential." | |
| − | + | Sophia's knuckles tighten on the railing, and she glides her eyes shut, breathing deeply and slowly to force her nerves to calm. | |
| − | + | Desmond doesn't speak for over a minute, before suggesting, "Shall I guide you?" | |
| − | + | "...please." | |
Latest revision as of 02:56, 5 October 2022
- Log: 2022-09-12: Routine
- Cast: Sophia Mayhew Castellan
- Where: Battleship Hyperion
- Date: U.C. 0096 09 12
- Summary: In the early hours of the morning, the Captain wakes from her nightmares. With her nerves frayed, she confronts her wizard about his loyalties.
It's 0230 when she startles awake, hand to her chest. It feels like her heart is trying to rattle her skeleton apart. She struggles to get control of her breathing in the dark. The dreams, again.
"...another," Sophia mutters, and forces herself to roll out of her bed, padding across her quarters. Her feet are bare, and her legs too. She throws on a loose top, just an exercise tank, before stumbling out into the dark lights of the officer's deck in ship's night. Her path is automatic, finding her way to a side hallway with a view of the outside.
She plants her hands on the railing, taking deep, tumultuous breaths, watching the clouds outside. It's cold. The climate is set for people in full uniform, after all.
She still feels like she's boiling alive, running her hand through hair that, unbound, runs down past her shoulder in messy waves. It comes away wet.
Another deep breath, looking at her own eyes in the reflection.
"I really do think you should speak to Doctor Kendrick about sleep aids, Captain," Desmond speaks from a corner of the room. He'd been there the whole time, like as not. Like he knew she'd end up here about now, the bastard. "Proper rest is essential to good decision making." His voice is, as ever, infuriatingly mild.
Sophia sucks in a long breath of conditioned morning air, feeling like her entire nervous system were on high alert. "It's not an issue."
"Mm," Desmond replies, noncommittal. "As you say, of course, Captain. Only...it does seem like it's been particularly bad this month."
Sophia openly scoffs, turning a glare on one of the most important people of her crew. "How uncommonly pointed of you. Is that your own concern, or his?"
Desmond chuckles. "Ah, is that it? Not hardly, no, Captain." He folds his hands and smiles like a saint. "Our good master saw in you the qualities of a king. It is simply my wish to see you fulfill that potential."
Sophia's knuckles tighten on the railing, and she glides her eyes shut, breathing deeply and slowly to force her nerves to calm.
Desmond doesn't speak for over a minute, before suggesting, "Shall I guide you?"
"...please."