POCKETS FULL OF STONES

[squadgoals]

Who: Commander Shepard (squadgoals) && OTA!
When: January 10th~
Where: Medbay (cryopods), around Avagi, Allcoran.
What: Shepard wakes up, and gets back to business.
Warnings: CW: WOKE UP ON THE WRONG SIDE OF THE CRYOPOD


1. TO WHERE THE WATER WAS [JAN 10, VERY LATE]

[The place I like best in this world...

...like a real velociraptor. Wouldn't that be cool?

But I'm sure we'll find somewhere...

...a seminal work in Western literature or some shit.

So why are you really here?

Count: faulty.

I never read a lot, so...

What kind of stories did you peg me as being interested in?

It swirls through, heard and unheard, a tangled mess of muted noise, far, far away, moving like a tar drip, glacial in its transmission. None of it makes sense—like a radio transmission heard through someone else's wall, phrases caught and confused, words mangled in the levels, then frozen in time.

Then she's awake.

It's cold. Stupidly, absolutely stupidly cold. It's an awareness—but not a feeling. Her whole body moves sluggishly, fingers unfeeling as she pushes, shoves the glass and metal of her cryopod forward—then pauses, panting slightly at the effort, angry in spite of herself. Stupid. This damn stupid thing. Again. The emotion pushes her out, forward-- until the unit's lid begins to move, bit by bit, propelled by sheer determined ire.

Moments later, she's scrabbling out, frost dripping off her hair, clothing uncomfortably crisp with damp. Leaning back against the pod, her eyes start to refocus, cybernetics slowly warming up to the idea of 'living' again.

In fact, it looks as if someone—or multiple someones—had been living here. There's objects, here and there, fallen to the floor, and she pulls whatever is within range to her, using only two fingers to minimize on drippage.

A carefully dried flower crown. Crumbs, which—on closer inspection—represent the remains of a nutrition block. A crumpled piece of paper, either a napkin or a blank note. A hand-drawn, butterfly-bedecked get-well-soon card. A single nut.

It's a bemusing collection. Shuffling them into a pile, she uses the blank napkin-note to pick up the rest of the objects, taking care not to dampen any of it.

It's only when she finally stands up that she notices the rest of the cryopod—covered in creative art pieces, applied liberally in posted notepaper format and directly to the pod itself. Despite herself, she can't help but laugh—a single, almost bark-like noise of amusement, muscles warming up towards a half-smile.]

2. THAT'S WHAT THE WATER GAVE ME [JAN 11~UNTIL THE DAMN WATER AND DINOS ARE GONE]

[Flooding. Of course it was. Why wouldn't it be flooding on a space station?

It's scant hours later, and Shepard, equipped with the short version, is up-to-date. As much as she needs to be, at least, before springing into action—and spring she does. She can be found at various locations around the station, ready to help at anyone's beck and call.

Content that her own apartment is well-insulated from the risen wet, several productive hours are spent alternatively finishing with the bailing, and re-sandbagging other people's homes.

Later, you may find her diving (breathing apparatus and all) to the bottom of things at the source of the burst pipe itself: Sector Sanitation. She's dived, as it were, for worse.

Finally, she can be spotted in the station's various halls: gun out, wading patiently through chest-deep water that hasn't drained back yet, shooting all manner of land, sea, and airborne miniature dinosaurs through their tiny skulls with something approaching pin-point accuracy—even through the curving trajectory of water. Very humane, really.]

3. THE WORLD'S A BEAST OF BURDEN [JAN 14~ONWARD]

[It's a few days before Shepard ventures near the coalescing portals, preferring to get her (and Avagi's) affairs in order before sallying forth. After a check-in on class (suspended, temporarily), a follow-up on emergency protocols, a walk-through of most areas to see how much had changed with time away (and water damage), plus a few hot showers and a load of laundry, her schedule opens for a day of off-worlding.

Or more. Who, after all, can resist a sidequest?

Dumped unceremoniously on the outskirts of "Town", Shepard starts with her usual: hacking people's safes and taking all their money breaking into their houses and having a normal conversation with the inhabitants like she didn't just do that rifling around in boxes and containers and taking everything she finds inside exploring the area top to bottom—but it's not long before she's sorting people's entire life out for them eavesdropping on people's conversations and bringing them exactly what they wanted by taking it from someone else, they probably didn't need it wasting a lot of time avoiding the main plot how have the reapers not attacked by now helping out whoever might need it, no matter how large or small the task may be.

There's a small trophy in her pocket, unimpressive, but notable. Etched into the side of it reads "SET TO DEFROST".]

4. YOU'VE BEEN HOLDING UP A LONG TIME

[The town had its charms; the people, less so. There were only so many times you could talk about the same thing before you felt like you were going in circles.

So she'd set out, exploring the wilds. It was fun, interesting—and weird. But there was a certain rhythm to the whole place, something that, inevitably, worked. And she was getting good.

Until now. A chasm stretched in front of her, and every minute or so, a platform zipped out of it, rising to great heights. The objective was clear enough: jump on to one of them, jump across the chasm. Easy.

Or it would have been. At a sprint, she leapt for the risen form, made the jump, went to make the next—only to discover her foot had passed right through the platform, dug in to its previously solid candy-striped mass. As she struggled to release her improbably-trapped limb, the platform continued its merry rise into the sky—or, at least, rising as high as the sky was, then pretending it was still rising. No other platforms appeared—nor did anything else.

So she was stuck, as it were, in an elevator.

ACE out, she drummed her fingers on the surface of her clipped prison, still attempting to free herself as she typed out a message, set to a wide local range:]

This is Shepard: is there anyone nearby who can lend assistance?

[Then, after another moment of thought:]

Flight abilities would be beneficial.

5. TIME GOES QUICKER BETWEEN THE TWO OF US

[Behold! The entrance to THE HAUNTED MAZE. A sign promises ghosts, ghouls, and a variety of sumptuous fruits. Beware!

Behold! Shepard, and her newest child companion! The girl, young, hair done up in twin braids, seems very interested in a tree just outside the entrance to THE HAUNTED MAZE.

Very interested. In fact, she has her face pressed right up against it, running into it over and over.

Very interested. Why, on closer inspection, half the girl's body seems to be inside of the tree. Shepard, for her part at least, is desperately attempting to shield the girl's face from the bark, while coaxing her with a gentle voice:]

Close, you're getting it—just move back, mooove back towards me-- no, that's the wrong-- towards me, if you move back, you'll be out of the tree--

[For a moment, it seems to work—the girl steps back, turns, inverts several times—and walks back into the tree, unable to avoid its siren hitbox. From between Shepard's fingers, there is a muffled groan.]

WILD: WOULD YOU HAVE IT ANY OTHER WAY?

[Got something special you want to throw down with? Hit me up @nijikai! I'm easy like Sunday morning.]

Comments

4

[seeingscarlet]

Please tell me you aren't stuck in a tree.

[It feels like Wanda's had to get the weaver's poor, curious cat out of a tree every afternoon when the daily quest resets.]

[squadgoals]

Not a tree.

[How. How could she even begin to explain.]

[seeingscarlet]

The bog?

[They could do this all day, quite literally - Wanda's never going to guess that Shepard somehow broke the world.]

2

[sketchycharacter]

[Nate is not a plumber, an engineer, or any other manner of tradesman whose skills might be useful here, but they're not spoiled for choice and he knows enough to help do some of the less technical cleaning and fixing.

The animals, though. He hadn't realized that the flooding would stir up the tiny tinos. Dumb. He's ready to use his hands to bat them away when there's a crack in the air and one drops dead with a splash.]

What the fuck.

[squadgoals]

[Sloshing through the water slowly, she approaches Nate, looking straight at him—and raises the pistol. There's no pause, and no hesitation when she fires.

The microslug zips safely past Nate's left cheek, and a moment later, that's a splash behind him.]

Flyer. Think it was trying to land on you.

[sketchycharacter]

[It would be badass if the bullet zipped so close it left a cool and manly trace on his cheek, but that would also be horrible gun handling on her part.]

I can handle a—Shep?

[His face kind of lights up when he sees her.]

Holy shit, you're awake. Thank god.

[LOOK OUT SHEP HE'S COMING IN FOR A HUG]

2

[brokeassgoing]

[he's not having fun slushing through this shit. literally and metaphysically. and slushing and muddling for sunken treasure?

Well it's. Interesting. Not all that fun, but necessary. At one point, he and Shep nearly collide when they simultaneously surface]

What the hell-- and here I thought you were a mermaid.

[squadgoals]

[Surfacing from the depths, hair stuck to her face like skeins of red kelp, she gives Badou the kind of look only a diving mask can permit, before spitting out her regulator.]

A crappy mermaid, maybe.

[Ha HA. Toilet humor! She'd kill a man for a shower.

Instead, she hauls a bag behind her—silt, muck, whatever you want to call it— and shoves it onto the floating platform above the Sanitation floodzone serving as a temporary base.]

I think we're dealing with a few different problems that have compounded—hiccup in one system causes a snowball effect, and fractures one of our mainlines. You see anything likely down there?

[brokeassgoing]

[he at least snickers at the joke, nose bubbling over just as fucking disgusting as all they've been in and looked at.]

Aside from my own mortality, again, and the fact that I can't believe it's taken this soon for things to get fucked over? Can't imagine it's one little snowball...

2

[redshitlord]

And thaaat's where another one bites the baaaag!

[Which totally doesn't make any sense. But oh well. Sideswipe thinks he's funny. He thinks flinging his load of sandbags around with abandon is actually helping something here. It's not. But there are a few holes he's actually managed to patch.]

[A few.]

[Not many.]

[But he's also loud and obnoxious enough to where literally no one could mistake him for anyone or anything else.]

[squadgoals]

Sideswipe, what are you doing?

[She knows what he's doing. She can see what he's doing. But really, she'd just like him to explain it to her. Because this, this should be good.

Was it a good thing that Sideswipe was the same as ever? Maybe there was a kind of comfort in that.]

[redshitlord]

Helping. Duh---Uuuhhh?

[That last part turns into something of a yelp as the voice registers. He stops dead in his tracks, staring at the wall for a beat or two. Then turns to her, optics gone wide.]

... whoa.

Be very very quest... we're hunting rabbits

[araignee_du_soir]

[It was very good to see Shepard up and about. So, it made perfect sense that after Widowmaker had agreed to go get some pelts for the old lady in town that was really nice to her, the sniper decided to snag Shepard on her way to the Wilds to give her a hand.]

Have you ever skinned a rabbit?

[Asked as she literally grabbed the woman's arm, pulling her along, as she went past the recently unthawed redhead.]

i heard it was duck season

[squadgoals]

[One hand lifting a lid, Shepard is in the middle of some premium box-peering when she hears the footsteps. Not a big deal—no one in this town seemed to mind her rooting through their random piles of trash. Besides, it wasn't like she was taking anything.

Much.

Valuable.

So when she finds herself being suddenly and firmly propelled along by someone else's grip, it's enough that she almost swings in surprise—until she catches sight of the person dragging her.

To her credit, the recovery is nigh-instantaneous, without a flicker of expression out of place. Within seconds, she's walking pace with Widowmaker, whether the woman's arm is still on her or not.]

Not a rabbit. [The stress lands on 'rabbit'. There had been a lot of rats. The occasional monkeys. A capybara or two. A sloth, once.] Can't be that hard. [Or that different.]

[araignee_du_soir]

[Once Shepard fell into step beside her, Widowmaker released her arm. Not a word was said about her cryostasis nor would there be unless Shepard brought it up; there was no point to it. Other people who were emotional and clingy would have already been all over Shepard about it, or would be in short order.]

Good. I have found myself charged with acquiring the pelts of some ROUS - rabbits - for a grand-mère in Town. Come assist me.

1

[gainedlove]

[They're hardly expecting her to be awake. Their shoes are still damp from coming through the flooded floor (even with a raft to transport, they never seem to avoid it), and each step squeaks against the smooth floor of the medical bay. The sound of movements in the cryo area makes Frisk pause, then approach the door more cautiously.]

...Shepard?

[Frisk stares for a moment from the doorway, just enough time for their guardian to turn before they beam and run forward to hug her tightly, not even caring about how cold and wet her clothes still are.]

You're back, you're up! 'Re you okay, d'you need anythin'?

[squadgoals]

[Exhausted though she is, there's no turning off her senses, and she catches the sound before she can clearly ID it. A footfall—it's familiar, almost recognizable, except for the squelching.

Shoes. Squeaky shoes. Tiny, mucky little puddlejumping shoes.

'Frisk' floats to her lips half a second before their head pops around the doorjamb, and Shepard exhales a breath she hadn't realized she'd held as they sprint towards her, wrapping their arms around her, squeezing out a smile. With a little effort, she returns the greeting, one arm patting their back reassuringly.]

Hey, hey. I'm okay. See? [Her voice is low, rough, but no less warm, confident despite. It wraps around a chuckle at Frisk's fussing.] Now that someone finally hit the 'defrost' option, I don't need anything else.

3

[lavelly]

[Lavellan mostly finds this particular world disquieting--something about it reminds him of the more unpleasant and tedious days of the Inquisition, despite nothing being familiar on the surface.

He's done enough of... helping out anyone who looked at him pitiably enough for one lifetime. But it seems the universe isn't one to let him shirk his duties, and he ends up running into Shepard embracing the very same.

Ah. Fuck.]

Shepard. You're looking very--awake.

[squadgoals]

['Embracing' is a very good word, because it's exactly what she's doing—with a cat. The cat, on the other hand, has absolutely zero interest in this exchange, and is making its point known sharply. Holding the feline under its stomach and at an arm's length, she gives Lavellan a look that could wither a fruit on the vine, while, incredibly, holding no actual malice.

Incredible what a good week or so of sleep can do for you.

[Seizing on to the distraction, the cat kicks its back feet up, and drags one each indiscriminately down both of Shepard's forearm.]

Ow! Why you rotten little--

[It's only a nanosecond of loosened grip—but the cat, a well-oiled machine of quicktime event button-mashing hell, is already gone, sprinting away to another location.]

1

[beautifulspaceraptor]

[ At some point, Nihlus had given up taking the time to make himself presentable before entering the cryopod chamber. He showers at the very least. Puts on his thermals, casts a passing, apathetic look in the mirror at the flaking edges of his face paint- and then leaves to spend the rest of the odd hour with Shepard's frozen form.

Mostly, it's quiet. Asides from the stray encounter with Chara, he'd missed just about every other visitor, an isolation by design.

It's been a very, very busy past few days, struggling with the flooding, tracking down and fixing piping. As far as catastrophic failures of Avagi's life support systems went, this scenario was relatively tame- but it did make Nihlus worry about the other things rotting away from centuries of no maintenance.

Then, the door to the cryo room slides open and he forgets how to worry for a while. ]

... Jane.

[ He whispers it, so soft he could barely hear himself, nearly dropping the mug of tea he'd brought along with him. ]

[squadgoals]

[There's not a lot of people on board with a footfall like that—and only one that she's heard for years. Placing her collection of found things on top of the shifted pod, she wrings a little damp out of the bottom of her cryo thermals, and turns, still barefooted, fixing the room's newest occupant with a soft smile. Despite the warmth, the rest of her expression is largely unvarnished—post-cryo fatigue etched into the lines of her face.

But it's no Intermediaries. Even as she meets eyes with Nihlus, some of the exhaustion is already ebbing away, buoyed by a mix of relief, determination and natural resilience.

Pushing herself off the pod with one hand, she makes her way over to her partner with the kind of shaky unsteadiness of someone who knows they probably shouldn't be doing this, but just doesn't give a damn.]

Hey.

[Voice rough and low with disuse, she coughs to clear her throat, wobbles, and resumes her approach, smile cracking with her tone.]

I'd move quicker, but I'm still de-icing. A little too much frost on the wings. [It Is A Spacecraft Joke!! If now isn't the perfect time for ship humor, then no time is.] Hope I didn't miss too much.

2

[mylawn]

[76 had noticed the leaking in Chemistry before it managed to reach his quarters, and he's tried to take the necessary precautions, hauling sandbags he scrounged up in the bartering block, making attempts to weatherstrip the door frame. It's not entirely effective, but it keeps some of it out, and when he moves all of his and Ana's belongings to shelves and higher ground, he's mostly covered.

Mostly. It gets worse as the week goes on, to the point where he has to spend some time bailing out his own quarters. with the door open, he doesn't miss Shepard wading her way down the hall, carnage in her wake.]

You're up.

[Because that's the thing to comment on here, not the water or the tiny dinosaurs.]

[squadgoals]

[At the voice, her head turns, eyes drinking in the total sight. Not that the bailing, the damming, the concerted efforts wasn't something she hadn't seen multiple times at this point—but somehow, Jack standing in the middle of it, hauling water out like some kind of macho-silver-fox magazine centerfold suited him.

Sidelined by her own train of thought, she simply nods in response to the statement of fact, drifting over to the sandbagged fortress to inspect his work.]

Figured I'd napped long enough. [Not that she'd had a choice in the matter.] Still owe you a housewarming gift, after all. Blue's a hard flower to find.

[Especially. In space.]

5.

[neveroutwrenched]

[ It would be next to impossible to describe this scene in any way that truly did it justice, if Ratchet ever wanted to relay it later. It lay somewhere between comedy and tragedy, the way all the best stories did, and he wasn't sure if he should help, spectate, or immediately walk away and never look back.

Ratchet can't even begin to imagine what else he'd missed while he was gone. ]

You, uh...I mean, it looks like you've got things covered, but...if you need a hand...

[ He crosses his arms, a hand over his mouth. ]

[squadgoals]

[At the sound of his voice, she turns, slowly, allowing the full strength of her withering stare to penetrate fully, before finally speaking:]

Ratchet.

Get over here.

[And, as if remembering her manners:]

Please.