exnihilo: (Default)
[Spam for Zane]

[Mira has had insomnia, off and on, for her entire stay on the barge. It's improved a bit since the mirror barge, but it is not at all strange to see her roaming the ship at odd hours. She avoids the patrols, creeps silently as a matter of habit. She peers at the stars and takes the occasional apple from the dining hall. Mostly, though, she winds her way up and down the stairs. Every murder so far has been in a stairwell. It makes sense - confined space, tight angles, good for concealment and sudden strikes. There is no tension of fear in her shoulders, no glancing back. She has her staser in her boot, but that, too, is not unusual.

It's not a trap, because her goal is not to stop whoever it is; her goal is not to survive or conquer. Only to see. The rest she leaves to skill and chance. And to that end, pins holding her unruly hair in place have been modified to carry some of Barbara's tiny bugs, hacked and modded with less skill but more advanced tech, transmitting to a screen where Mickey broods and watches and waits, and to Mira's neural Direct Interface. The culprit attacks from behind; but now Mira has eyes in the back of her head.]
exnihilo: (weep)
[Open Spam - hallways, deck, dining hall]

Cut for length and CONTENT WARNING for brief suicidal imagery; In which Mira has tantrum. )

[Public, later]

[Her eyes are still a little red; she doesn't look like death warmed over but she doesn't look happy, either. Her tone is terse, not quite defiant. Challenging, maybe.]

If you knew, I mean really knew, that killing someone innocent would save millions of lives, improve more, would you do it?

[Private to Arthas]

What would you do if you couldn't remember who you were before?

[Who would be left?]
exnihilo: (Default)
[Open spam]

[Mira spends a lot of time in the greenhouse. She's barefoot, shoes dangling from magnetic straps from two fingers, enjoying the organic feeling of soil beneath her soles. She is so bored, and so still. She doesn't know if she wants it to stop or not.]

gift list )
exnihilo: (Default)
[Open, Video]

[She got caught by the women's council, near the end. They dragged her off when she claimed to have no family to be returned to, interred her in a tiny church with other troublesome, unmarried young ladies. Most of them had had a child out of wedlock. They did laundry together, work and penance, the heavy lye soap burning their hands hour by hour. Mira could have swaggered out bloody, but she didn't - something about the mumbled prayers and the delicate stained glass windows and the blunt, human directness of it, the brusque cruelty and judgement appealed to her. Their God was hypocritical and describable; the things he required of her were concrete and impersonal. It didn't matter that she was no one, in the cloister - all of them were no one, were discards, and they showed her how to do the work and took her unhesitatingly in. She enjoyed it, in her way, listened to the other women talk about their children, taught one how to break her boyfriend's wrist the next time he came home drunk. And she stayed until the barge caught her up again.

She's in the chapel now, dull and bare by comparison, not gaudy morbid stories or old ash marks on squat brick. She rolls a candle from one hand to the other. She has kept to herself, so far, has made no announcements or introductions, done nothing to draw undue attention since the nature of this place was explained to her. She was content with that state of affairs. But she is curious, now.]

How many of us are religious?

terrible horrible flirting, confidential to Two-Face )


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Mira Hidalgo

April 2015

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