3 - open spam, gift list

[exnihilo]

[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.]


[Private to the Admiral]

This isn't my tradition.

Fine.


For Iris, if there’s anything she’d want to remember, all things considered, if she knew she’d forgotten it – don’t tell her. Just…give her a clue, so she can be her own puzzle.

Please give Harvey a white poppy boutonniere. It's a sign of peace.

...what the hell. Give Two-Face a carnival mirror. Really warped. The right thickness to shatter in a satisfying way, if that's how he takes it.

Wherever there are public religions, there are people that mock them, loudly or quietly. If you would, please give Arthas a collection of satirical jokes made by people in his world about any gods he believes wronged him.

Give Cassel a conductor’s hat and a train whistle.

Comments

[fireincarnate]

[Jean hasn't visited the greenhouse since she came back. But she's been out of her room a lot more, lately, and it's only natural she'd be drawn to the quietly blooming life of it.

Her steps are light and careful, as she winds through the leaves, taking in the sight and scent of new plants. Some of them she can even feel, in the back of her mind.

She feels Mira's presence before she sees her - it's like a blade through the bushes - but she doesn't hurry, toward or away. They meet in their own time, and Jean smiles.]

It's nice, isn't it?

[exnihilo]

It's got weeds, and ants, and thorns.

It's cultivated, obviously. But much less so, than I'm used to.

[She speaks mildly, but for someone paying attention, it's clear that she likes the difference.]

[fireincarnate]

[Jean was always good at spotting fondness, of catching subtle glints of happiness.

So she's smiling, a little, as she nods.]

It's close. [And it reminds her of the mansion's greenhouse, high and open and sunlit. It reminds her of Ororo, cradling flowers in her fingers.]

Have you been to the CES?

[exnihilo]

[Mira has never, so far as she knows, been anywhere truly wild. She thinks maybe it's the sort of thing that doesn't exist at all anymore; or rather, humans have their own wildness, which they have brought through the stars with them. It is hers to prune it, here and there. But the lack of polish, of monitors and nanowire interface scaffolds and genetically engineered microecologies, is rough and charming.]

Not yet.

[There's a trick to spending your whole life floating from cruise to cruise without going completely mad: never try out an amenity just because it's there, or you'll never care. Each excursion must be an event unto itself, shared or stolen.]

[fireincarnate]

It's amazing. It's not - it can't be real, but it feels like it. [And that means something, when you can feel the world itself pulsing around you.] It can be anywhere, anywhere natural any of us has ever been.

[exnihilo]

[There's a flare of emotion from Mira, a warped surge of hope/hunger/bitterness. It doesn't show on her face.]

Can you choose where?

[She expects nothing. She isn't sure what she'd want if did - but she doesn't. It's just a question.]

[fireincarnate]

Not exactly. [Her brow furrows, a bit.] But it - we shape it, I think, with our minds.

[exnihilo]

What do you shape?

[fireincarnate]

[A sad, soft smile.] The grounds. At home, I lived in - a mansion, a school. And we had acres of just - trees and flowers and sunlight.

[exnihilo]

You're from Earth, right? So many people here are.

[fireincarnate]

Yes. It's strange, isn't it? The universe is... [Her gaze goes distant, for a moment.] Not limitless, not really, but... [She shakes her head; it's hard to put into words.]

Where are you from?

[exnihilo]

[There's a psychic flinch, like pressing on an old bruise, like putting weight on a twisted ankle. There's emptiness there, something broken and wrong, and it doesn't - hold. But outwardly she just shakes her head.]

I traveled a lot.

[fireincarnate]

[Jean feels it, of course, but she's good at not reacting to things unsaid; her expression doesn't change as she nods.]

It must be strange, then, being stuck in one place.

[exnihilo]

Not yet. I spent a lot of time on spaceships.

Maybe it will feel strange, after a few more ports. Coming back to the same one, with the same people.