ataraxionlogs | thirty-first jump;

Entry tags:

thirty-first jump;

CHARACTERS: Any and all.
LOCATION: Gravity Couches and beyond.
WARNINGS: Maybe some swearing, or even some violence, and more than likely some implied (and possibly explicit) nakedness.
SUMMARY: Another month, another jump, another round of new faces.
NOTES: There is something very easy about waking from the gravcouches this month. The sensation of being watched is absent, and so is much of the sickness - even for those characters who entered Engineering in February. Instead the jump feels comfortable, the stasis fluid warm on your skin, the medbay lights not too harsh as you emerge amongst your fellow passengers. The sensation may be unnerving in its strangeness, but there will be a deep feeling of being well-rested, calm and content, that will not be completely lost no matter how much you question it.

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You wake up in darkness.

There's a breathing tube jammed down your trachea, and you're suspended in a tube of clear blue fluid. Upon registering your level of consciousness, the gravity couch drains the fluid surrounding you and retracts the breathing apparatus; the doors in front of you open, and you're deposited on the floor of a stark, sterile medical bay.

You are not alone.
There are others who have come before you, others who are awakening beside you. Some may be familiar to you, perhaps even friends. Others have much less amiable plans. Some are merely alien and inexplicable, but there are always those who might mean you harm.

After you catch your breath and your vision returns, you notice a number on the inside of your forearm. Maybe it's a familiar number. Maybe it means something. Maybe it's just a number. But the number—completely unique to you—is a tattoo, and it does not come off.

If you enter the room adjacent to the medbay, you will find a small locker with your number on it, surrounded by rows upon rows of identical lockers. Inside, you will find a few of your personal items, a communications device, and a ship's uniform in your exact size. The comms device is fully powered and connects directly to the ship's network; it's your only means of communication beyond physical conversation. Upon turning the device on, a neutral, automated voice will say, "Please take the blue lift to the passenger quarters." Any other attempts at communicating with the rest of the network are met only with static.

This is your welcome party.

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

[ if his goal has been to make her feel as safe as possible, then he has succeeded with this one gesture. the promises, the tightness of his grasp, how warm and solid he is here. everything about this just sends her back in time a year.

and if she shuts her eyes she can almost picture that it is her father holding her. the man who had picked her up and given her a great smile when she had been been. she remembers.

the memory both soothes her heart and simultaneously tears it to pieces in her chest. for a moment, she clings on harder, sobs louder, and cares not who might see. because in her mind this is her father and he will protect her from any and everything. the illusion is shattered as corvo speaks, and she opens eyes still welling with tears to gaze at him.

no, he is not her father. but he makes her feel just as safe as her own had. and that's important.her sobbing has since stopped, and while the tears still flow, her gaze is quiet. how broken she feels is still evident in her eyes, but that will pass in time. she is a survivor if nothing else.

and she closes them again when she feels his hand in her hair, releasing a long sigh. elizabeth does not recoil from the kiss. instead, she seems to sag and lighten in his arms, all the tension beginning to ebb away for now. ]

[ It's instinct that guides more than practise. He thought himself little better than a tool, as purposeful to one end as his swords and guns were.

He would never be called father, save in a little girl's drawings. Never know how to be other than quietly proud. But it does not stop him, cradling her, rocking her gently and doing his best to sooth her as well as he knew how. Bigger than Emily, but no less fragile.

And it warmed even, even as his heart thudded in the back of his throat. He did not weep, could not after this long. But it seemed she shed enough tears for the both of them. Light as a bird, and twice as breakable. A kingsparrow in a gilded cage with a broken wing. He thought himself well past caring very much any more how much that pained him to see, knowing that she deserved better than what this paltry world ( his, hers, this ship ) preferred to give.

But he can now, wipe her tears. Hesitant, almost shaking fingers ( he knows, knows how easy it is to shatter little birds under his hand ) to her cheeks as he mopped them up with the end of his torn shirt sleeve. Perfectly intent and attentive to that end, his eyes didn't leave her face, roaming over it to check that all that plagued her was sorrow. ]

Edited 2014-05-11 05:22 (UTC)

[ one day perhaps if she can move past the grief she bears for her own, he might be surprised to find a teenager calling him father. and neither because he is married to her mother (not even interested in her) or responsible for half of her genetic makeup. but simply because when it matters, just like it does right now, he feels like one to her. he is warm and kind and gentle with her and mumbles all the right things that make her want to smile and weep all at once.

when she is in his arms like this, she feels defended from absolutely every hardship, every horror, every atrocity any world can toss her way. because he is here and he will keep her safe from harm. similar but altogether different to how she is beginning to see cesare. there is only the warmth of admiration here in her, and affection for someone who has no responsibility to her legally speaking but is taking the time to do so anyway.

elizabeth is more than suitably soothed here in the arms of this tall man who is gruffly trying to wipe up her tears. no matter what she might or might not deserve, her heart is truly warmed by this gesture. she leans up and quietly presses a kiss to his cheek, and then leans back down to rest her head upon his chest so that she might listen to his heart. eventually, she reaches for one of his hands and says in a hoarse, quiet whisper: ]

Thank you.

[ That he may shield her from some of the bitterness life brought, was simply enough for him. It was a long time, since like this. Felt solid and real and not wretched and made of shadows and blood.

A protector, not a damned thing that crawled out of the depths of mans nightmares. With a purpose that had to do with strength and not death. ( and all that still, did not change the quiet affirmation, as he had when he'd found out that she was so like his own little Empress, that he would kill for her, shatter bones and make men weep for her ).

His fingers fiddled with the end of her long, long hair. An absent gesture as she tucked herself under his chin and he squared his feet to keep himself steady and there for her.

The kiss was a surprise. He'd forgotten such things with Emily's absence. The small gestures of affection that had once come so easily to him, and he smiled quietly in return, letting her hand find his and laced his fingers through hers. Though it amused to find how much smaller she was than him in so many ways.

But even then, it's an effort to swallow down on his own grief as he looked to her sleeping mother. Not a true death no, but her pallor was near to put a agony in words. ] Your mother would not wish you to be alone.

[ the concept of safety was finally within reach while he held her like this. ever since her father perished, she has been desperately clutching at the frayed edges of the notion, but never quite able to reach it. until now. this gesture and the emotions it holds come with no conditions. there are no expectations to meet, a quote of smiles to give or amount of right things to say.

corvo is here and he will defend her from any and everything, even including her uncle if need be. peace and joy and security no longer seem like things from a past that others consider long-buried and forgotten already. they are alive and vibrant and solid. the certainty she has in his desire to keep her safe is nearly overwhelming. a knot of tight, wound-up emotion has lodged itself in her throat and tightened her chest.

what has she done to deserve such devotion? nothing. nothing at all. it was awe-inspiring and terrifying all at once. and of course, humbling.

elizabeth feels herself release a long, quiet sigh at the gentle touch of his fingers in her hair, and closes her eyes while she finally begins to relax.

this is everything she has not known she has needed. she can only hope that he is deriving an equal measure of worth from this, because she does not want to let go. not yet. her mouth quirks upward by tiny degrees, until she is smiling softly there against his chest. then her eyes open once again, lashes fluttering as she quietly beholds her mother in newly-calmed silence. for a long time she gazes at her, still as stone, as a statue; and then, looks up into his weathered face. her fingers laces with his and she squeezes his palm gently. ]

Thanks to your continuing kindness, I am fortunate not to find myself such. [ a realization that still shakes her to her core and renders her nearly speechless. ]

[ He knows it's a foolish thing to miss. He after all has a little girl of his own. But she had not come here, and thankful for that as he was too, he missed her in some ways for this. He felt more himself than he had in the hours spent so long alone as he stared at the med bay walls. Trapped inside his own head and in a brittle sort of agony for it.

He'd never ask, but he appreciated it being given. The closeness, to anyone, anyone at all. Like cool water to a fresh burn, it soothed him as much as he in turn soothed her. He let out a sigh of his own. And it felt like letting stale old air that had been rotting in his lungs. Replacing it with something, perhaps, that felt a little like atonement. ]

It is nothing, little bird. [ and truly, it is what he should be. The man he had been.

And he smiled, despite himself. How little she looked, in his jacket. Older than Emily, perhaps, still a girl. A girl without a mother, though he hoped that would be a short spell, and he squeezed her hand tightly in return. ] You should go to tend yourself, my jacket is not the most fitting thing for a Lady of your standing to be wearing. [ and as if he could guess, perhaps at least one concern. ] I will watch your mother.

[ the sense of family and belonging and the comfort that such things brought are never foolish to miss. she, too feels more like herself when close like this to someone she is beginning to care for and trust on a deeper level. beyond the superficiality of many of the acquaintances she has formed, genuine though she may be in her regard for them. it is not the same, for her she feels like things are right and good and as they ought to be.

as though she is invincible because this great bear of a man will shield her from the world and all the foul things therein. that he seems to derive an equal (or perhaps greater) level of comfort from this closeness warms and eases her. her cheek nuzzles against his shoulder once, as she calmly regards her mother's pod.

he is not father, but feels just like him all at once. in his own way, he is fulfilling the role she has been so desperate to see played by someone who would never seek to replace her father. but rather step in and continue where he had left off. and perhaps, she may be beginning to find it. ]

It is everything. I might breathe again, thanks to you.

[ and be calm when before she had been a hairsbreadth away from a complete breakdown. he has saved her from that torment of the mind, and she will never forget this kindness so long as she lives. no matter where they go or what they do, this man will forevermore have a most high standing in her esteem. and though she knows it not, in her heart as well. only when he squeezes her hand and speaks up does she sigh, nodding reluctantly. ]

I should. But do you mind if we might sit together later? [ they do not even need to say a word. his presence brings comfort of its own. elizabeth leans back and steps away, a small smile playing upon her lips. a tentative, brave expression. ] Thank you. I shall not be long.

[ with that she turns, and makes her way to the showers without the usual lurch of illness to her step in order to get cleaned up. she would return to him, and her mother as soon as possible, after all. ]

[ Before she left, he cupped the side of her head, leaning forward to kiss her brow warmly, if briefly. ]

Of course. I will be here waiting, and will stay as long as you have need. [ His hand dropped, and brief as his smile was, it was hers to have, should it give her some happiness. A warmth in his own eyes he couldn't quite hide either, and he'd always been a fool that way. ]

Go. [ A slightly more firm admonishment, as he stepped away to give her leave to go around him.

He was doing better. The wounds were not kind, but he could walk again, despite the twinge. He supposed being in the pods did help. Enough at least that it wasn't tiring to stand there, watching her mother's cool face. Far more relaxed, if only because his body protested too much. Instead he found a wall to lean against, half dozing against it for as long as it took her to return. ]

[ she closes her eyes at the feel of his gentle kiss, smiling softly. this is everything she has missed, right here. warmth and tenderness which she has found in the arms of someone unexpected. who feels like her father yet is not. it's imperfect but wonderful.

she leans up and kisses his cheek again softly. ]

And I will be back to join you anon. I shall never forget this kindness.

[ her gaze is warm and soft, and she nods before turning and heading into the showers to clean herself off. she takes her time, due to this being her first time since her initial arrival in which she might truly enjoy the experience of being clean in the shower without the discomfort of illness marring it.

but she dresses quickly once she is out, and returns with her hair loose and sopping wet, already curling in the chill air to find him dozing near to her mother's pod. a fond smile plays upon her lips and she lays his jacket carefully over him. then she seats herself next to him, and closes her eyes, dozing off a little herself. ]

[ Her heard her footsteps, but it was more the weight of his jacket about his shoulders that stirred him. He doesn't quite open his eyes all the way. It's just a crack of an eye to check she was there, and a little better for washing and getting dressed.

The warmth of his jacket really, that settles it. She is calmer now, and a little more settled now that she had cried enough for now. It upset to see her do it at all, but some things were better without being bottled up.

He sighed a little, and his arm moved around her shoulder, drawing her against him. More of a tired instinctual action than anything else. So many times, when Emily had crept to him, even before she had lost her mother and he his Empress.

And so, just as with Emily, he went to the same thing she had always wanted. ]

Do you wish for a story?

[ sighing softly, she follows the tug of his arm and bows into him. her head ends up laying against his shoulder and her hand reaching for his. it is a pleasant, lazy sort of contentment which overtakes her. the sadness has exhausted her and now she feels warm and safe with someone she knows will defend her.

a girl cannot ask for better than this, but for her mother to wake. yet close to him like this, she begins to think that just maybe things might be okay, just like everyone has been trying to reassure her. the month will be long and lonely.

but being lonely is not at all akin to being alone, which she is most assuredly not. nodding her head against his shoulder, she settles against him. ]

Yes, please.

[ He settled his back against the wall, so she could lean against him fully. His hand rested on his shoulder, carefully sorting damp strands of her hair, and combing it gently.

Jessamine and Emily had both told him he could be unbearably warm. Hot blood, he'd been teased, coming from Serkonos, and he always noted they never teased him so much when the chill from the sea curled around Dunwall Tower.

And that, is where he begins his story, fingertips on her back and a sigh in his lungs. This one, had always been Emily's favourite. Tugged at his fingers and asked and asked to hear the story of how she and Jessamine had met again and again. ]

Once, there was a Emperor who was good and kind, whose only heir was a Princess. She lived in a high, white tower that hung with pennants of blue and gold and corridors that bustled with servants. [ His voice was rough, shaky with use. But he kept on, even he was a poor story teller. ] Her father, the Emperor, worried about his daughter. Every night she got closer to her twelfth birthday, was a night closer she had to chose the one who would protector for the rest of her life. For tradition stated that on the night of the heir's twelfth birthday, they would chose their royal protector, who would serve them hence forth until the day they both died.

To that end, from every end of the Empire, young men, and women sometimes, came, to present themselves to the young lady Princess, to seek her favour and to be the one named. For there was no one closer, in the whole Empire, who would be closer to the royal family, than the protector.

[ not since she had been a small girl had she been held in such a manner by her father. it is different with corvo; he truly is warmer. his voice has a different timbre, his clothes a different scent. but the beat of his heart lulls her into a state of relaxation as surely as does the gentle stroke of his fingers through her hair.

she blinks her blue eyes once, twice, and then closes them so that she might try to picture this story in her mind's eye more easily.

with a nuzzle of her cheek to his shoulder, she settles in to listen to the tale in total comfort. ]

Was there a tourney, or some trial all of these many candidates had to face?

[ it makes sense. only someone wise, kind and strong should protect a princess. in her mind, there should be trials in all three arenas to whittle down the competition. it is not so in her land, but in this one, she thinks, perhaps it might happen. ]

[ His eyes shifted closed. Remembering it so clearly in his mind.

He'd been young, a fool, and charmed by a little girl. He hadn't know he'd love her still so many years later, and so very differently, to how he had then.

And nor, is it exactly as he told her. Some details he omitted. ]

Yes. All such manner of things. Even dancing, with the little princess. They had to present their skills in combat, verbal and physical. [ he'd been miserable at the first, but far, far better in the last. ]

There was one however, who wished to try. He was not of noble birth, but he was able bodied all the same. Had grown up far to the south and when he had saved the Duke of Serkonos one day, was given as a gift to the Emperor for his strength and courage. Been in his household, ever since. [ and that day, had been even stranger. He'd not understood what had happened, just that Gristol was so cold compared to Serkonos. Chilled him to his bones and he'd detested it the first few months. ] He too, stood trial. Though he was mocked for it. No man outside of the capitol of the Empire, had ever held the position, and they were sure that he would not get it, but all the same, he tried.

Even dancing! My goodness. How long did this tourney last for?

[ she mumbles almost sleepily beside him, so relaxed has she become. though she is not, at least not yet. this story is much too interesting to sleep through. ]

A.. gift? [ she opens her eyes, her expression having grown troubled. ] Why would a person be made a gift of? Was this in some ancient Empire, where such things were common?

[ it sounds almost like slavery, which is.. troubling. to say the least on the matter. that is not at all something she is ok with. still frowning, she looks up into his face. ]

He sounds like a brave boy. I hope he won the tourney, and proved his mettle to those who mocked him.

Formally? No longer than a week. But it begins truly far longer before it.

[ He had wondered, if he had been sent with that in mind, not just as a diplomatic gesture.

But her question puzzled him, before he understood. His eyes crinkling at the corners even if he didn't make it all the way to laugh. His hand smoothing over the back of her head, soothing her worry. ] I'd wager your father and mother do it often, it's not that uncommon for men of lower stations, particularly fighting men, to be traded between households. Perhaps you notice it with your ladies.

Regardless, do not think him unhappy. He would grow to love the Emperor as a father, in time.

[ Not so ancient and terrible, Dunwall was a shining beacon of the future. With lights as bright as the whales themselves. ]

He did. He had not even meant to. Not because he fought harder or better or faster, but because he talked to her. She was clever in all the ways a ruler should be, and he enjoyed that, even for one so young. But when the time came, they all thought she would pick that which her father and adviser's approved of.

But she didn't. No, instead, she picked the boy who stood at the back, pretending as much as he could that she hadn't said his name.

How much longer before it formally begins, then?

[ she is curious, despite her distress over the thought of people being bartered and traded like chattel. she closes her eyes, but her face has still bled pale, drained of all colour. ]

I have no ladies. I am one of Queen Anne's ladies. But such a thing.. to do such things with folk without their consent? I like that not. That does not sound to me to be nearly the same as fostering out one's child once they reach a certain age.

He.. truly, he did? [ but that a ruler would allow such practices.. well. elizabeth presses her mouth into a firm line and says nothing more as he continues telling his tale. ]

That sounds rather romantic, after all he had been through. Were the pair of them happy, as much as they could be?

[ given their difference in station, and the role he played in her life. elizabeth knows how royal protocol works; but she is sharp enough to tell that the pair in the story bore affection for one-another which went beyond platonic. and it makes her smile a little.

but, even more than that.. for she is far cleverer, even whilst upset than she looks. ]

The boy was you, I imagine. I do hope that you were able to find some measure of happiness, as my parents did together.

[ though perhaps not in the same manner. not all monarchs defy an entire nation to marry for love. ]

Edited 2014-05-23 09:38 (UTC)

[ He falls instantly quiet when she says the truth of it all. In part it's a stiffening of fear that he and the boy should be the same. His hand stilled, hovering about her head.

Another, he might have killed them for less than even guessing half as much truth as she had. Not even for himself, but that Jessamine's memory remained unstained by base men such as him.

But right now, curled against her chest, watching the curve of her face, she had put more simple, unthinking trust in him then perhaps she understood, and certainly more than he deserved. Could he trust her with this? But it was no longer court he feared.

More than anything, he could not face himself.

He shifted, hand back against her hair. Like Emily, but not. Her questions were painful, difficult, but in far different ways. She did not ask why he wore a mask, why he had only stumps for fingernails, why he winced a little when he smiled.

Elizabeth's questions were as soft as her fair hair as it dried, slipped between his fingers as he resumed the same little gestures. Tickled the same when they brushed against the exposed skin as his nails slowly grew back. Sensitive, if he could apply that word. ( Strange to be feeling at all.

Perhaps then, he was not all dead. It took someone far more alive than him to help him to realize it anymore. ) So he spoke, and it was more trust than he had willingly given to anyone for such a long time. ]

We did. [ and then, we did not. But there was no room for reality in these fairy stories he gave her. ] One day, Lady Elizabeth you will have ladies of your own, and as Queen you will have power over all men the same.

And if the men that serve you are worthy of even your smile, the least they will do is forgetting their home, less still would be dying for you.

[ It's a quiet surety, that despite it all, she would rule, that they would be as devoted to her, as he had been to Jessamine. And may a better man than he serve to protect her from all such ills. ]

Edited (that was awful wording bleh) 2014-05-26 13:04 (UTC)

[ as if to punctuate the amount of trust she had found in him, she nuzzled her cheek into the crook of his shoulder and gave a great wistful sigh, relaxing completely next to him. she opened her eyes and peered up at him quietly, a soft expression on her face. something between a smile and a peaceful settling of her features. ]

You know, I am glad for that. This life is far too short not not be happy. Some, like you and this Empress of yours have the courage to seize it and it is to be admired.

[ her gaze turns as wistful as her sigh had sounded. ] My parents were thus oddly matched. My mother was a penniless commoner, a widow whose lands had been taken from her and whose eldest sons were thus landless. One look at her, though, and my father is said to have been mad from her from then until the day he died.

And they truly never could take their eyes from one another. They were happy. [ elizabeth reaches over, to take his hand in her own and twine their fingers. ] You have my word that I will never speak of this to anyone. I understand well the need to keep the truth quiet.

But I.. am honoured, to be the recipient of such a lovely tale. [ and of such lovely, earnest words. she smiles faintly. ]

I will be Queen in name only, wed to the murderer of most of my male relations whilst his mother rules in my place beside him.

But if I might have my own way, no one would have to die for me, for I would fight with everything I have in me to forge peace where I might. My land has seen too much war.

[ He's content for awhile, to listen to her talk. She seemed much better now, for it all. Calmer, her words less exhausted with her grief, and it was a relief to hear. For all the pain he'd dealt out, he'd never relished in hearing it from those he cared about.

But the calm faded, as she continued, and he knew that her situation mirrored Emily's, and perhaps, should he mother wake, he would speak to her on this. His frowned deepened and his hand stilled. ]

I do not understand... It is your throne. Not his, or his family. Nor should it ever be. [ and it instilled in him the fear all over again of what might happen to Emily in his absence. ]

Perhaps I did not... and it is why most particularly you can speak nothing of what I say. My Empress... she ruled alone. She never married nor inclined herself towards it in during her life. She was the Emperor's daughter, and when he died, she took her position for herself, as will her daughter. [ and if there was ever anything to cement Elizabeth in his mind and someone who needed protection, it was thus. ]

You are right: it is not. His branch of the family was barred by law from ever being considered in line of succession. But he will take it by right of conquest after defeating my uncle in battle.

My mother might say what she likes of what my uncle has done to us, but it does sound to me as though he tried his best to defend us. To defend our kingdom. What.. distresses me is that one of my brothers was still living when I was brought here. And three of my male cousins. Surely they would all need to die as well for Henry to have any sort of stability.

[ a heavy undertone of bitterness laces that last word, and she shivers, biting her lip. ] His order murdered my little brother Edward. I barely knew him; he'd been taken away to be fostered out in Wales as was the custom.

I will not. And my confidence is now sealed, for I have also told you something which must not be spoken of. No one was to know that my younger brother Richard was still alive.

[ she closes her eyes, thankfully too drained and tired to cry. ] It is men who inherit the throne of England. My sole purpose will be to bear children one day.

[ He listened, patiently, let her say it all without comment and the same held in trust as she had given him. That he would, say nothing of it.

Instead carefully, he cupped her cheek in his hand. Not the hands of her kingly father, but the fighter it seemed, all the same, rough, but he did his best to be gentle now. He ca;led her a bird, and that was what she was. Fluttering with a terrified heart beat, fine bones and piteously trapped by the things he knew too well. ]

Your agency will be yours, on this ship. I will make sure of it. No matter if your Uncles, or suitors, if they ever come, may insist otherwise.

[ the mentality is too familiar to him and he despises it, but his rage would not serve him in this, after all this was not a battle to be fought that way. ] You are not a brood mare, Elizabeth, not if I have anything to do about.

[ his silence will be greatly appreciated, as hers will be by him no doubt. this ship can prey upon weakness, and she would show it none to exploit. or anyone else who might think to use her.

her father's hand had been those of a warrior, calloused and rough, though perhaps not quite so much as corvo's are. but the gentleness stems from a similar place in him as it had in her own parent, and she leans into it to embrace it with everything she has.

and the surety of his tone and the nature of his words help a great deal in relaxing her. ]

I pray you are right, Corvo. All my life, it has been so easy to obey when asked and do as I was bidden. But I tire of it.

[ she wants to be happy. she might just be finding that here, with he and cesare and lucrezia and galadriel. folk who honestly seem to have a care for her as a person, and not her position or what it entails. this is not a battle to be won through force, but rather through encouraging her to be stronger.

she is touched, and her eyes are bright with emotion. ] I am so well-defended here. That is fortunate. I.. must thank you from the bottom of my heart.

[ He is meticulously careful with her, as far as he had been when Emily was born. Little and slight. He did not wish to break her. ]

You are...

[ that seemed apparent. What brief observation to her well being he had made, she seemed very well cared for, by him least of all. They all could offer her things, he could not. Wisdom and temperance.

He was made for violence, and that stilled him. He had taught Emily, and Jessamine some what. Perhaps if he had done more, it would not have come to pass as it had. ]

... Have you ever thought to defend yourself? So you may never need of another. [ then she could have the ability to chose, for herself. To want, rather than need. ]

[ she closes her eyes and leans into him again. he may be a man of violence, but his presence is both reassuring and soothing for her. someone capable of defending her, and willing to do so.

and more than that, someone who cares. truly, it takes so little to coax her heart to form an attachment to others, despite the losses she has endured. others might offer her wisdom. but he can offer something no other can: the tenderness of a father.

a belief and a faith in her which few others share. the ability to encourage her to do things others would never think or wish to. because that would be dangerous. yet he does not think so. she leans back enough to look up at him, and slowly nods while biting her lip. emotion is vivid in her eyes, and it is guilt. guilt and grief, a duo of burdens which would crush anyone given time. ]

Yes. Many times. Were I able to back home, perhaps my brothers might.. [ she sets her jaw and tips her chin up. ]

I have come to see how capable women can be in combat. And how invaluable such a skill might be. Yes.

thirty-first jump;

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