Aalakrys

Firefly - Second 'Verse

One Woman Wet T-Shirt Contest - Greenleaf, Day 3

JP/collab from @Aalakrys and @sail3695

---

What she wouldn’t give fer a good ole toad floater of a thunderstorm jest ‘bout now.

Day’d started well enough. She got up early tah have ‘er coffee afore cleanin’ out tha lower deck lav. Once towels an’ rags was in the washer, she even snuck out tha topside hatch fer a spell, where she stripped down tah unders an’ lay on ‘er stomach in tha mornin’ sun. A good hour of that’s all she could stand, with her back tinglin’ an’ the hull gettin’ too hot tah touch.

Now, the heat an’ humidity was just brutal. She done sweated through today’s tee shirt.
Molly Malone’s Billiard Parlour and Foot Massage was now stuck tah her like a new skin. Fer tha umpteenth time, Abby moved her lawnchair tak keep in the boat’s shadow. An’ it was then the fella come callin’.

“Excuse me…miss?”

When Abby turned around, before her on the dock stood a rather lean, tall fella. Aside from the shiner discoloring the right side of his face and somewhat unkempt appearance, he looked like some sort of professional with his white lab coat and black scrubs underneath. Plenty of folks on Greenleaf wore similar outfits, or coveralls, that worked for the major pharmaceutical plant based in the city. This one just looked like he hadn’t seen a razor in a few days and decided to go with the style his night’s sleep - or lack thereof - gave him for his hairdo. “Is this the China Doll? It said the China Doll was a Firefly, and I don't see any others around... so...”

First thought come tah her mind was he must be marinatin’ in all them clothes. Second thought struck ‘er was looks like ‘e slept in’em, tah boot. Now, fair an’ sure she couldn’t fault a fella fer his late doin’s. One look at them Skyes come draggin’ in at sunup made this fella look straight up kosher. Even with that love tap on ‘is face. “Sure’n it is,” Abby answered. “How can we help?”

“Outstanding,” He said, brightening a little and diminishing the tiredness circling his unblemished eye a fraction. Nothing could help the other side. He glanced down as she swung the messenger bag around, its battered front cracked leather worn smooth. “I have something… a package. For your pilot.”

He sounded distracted, tired still, as he fished around inside and pulled out a wrapped bundle. He offered it over to the young woman, the contents concealed behind parcel paper and twine.

Now, it’s startin’ tah go sideways. Abby looked down on tha package he held out, then looked him over a second time. “Fer our pilot, yah say,” she replied ‘thout reachin’ fer it. “That pilot got a name?”

The man’s somewhat chipper disposition faltered, but only back to tiredness in those hazel eyes as his smile turned right upside down. His tone sounded more speculative as he rubbed the back of his neck. “I think she’s Penelope - that’s what the registry said when I looked her up.”

“How ‘bout yew?” the girl asked. “What’s yer name?”

“Me? I’m Rowan.” He answered without hesitation, lowering the package only slightly since she didn’t seem to be willing to take it. “It says so on my… Oh.”

He flipped the work ID badge fastened to his coat pocket over: R. Randell. Obviously, he was not trying to be sneaky, because he wouldn’t be that great at it, it seemed. Or, he was really good at acting like it. But, that was highly unlikely given how easy-going he seemed to be about this whole thing. “Ha, they don’t put our first names on these things. Never noticed.”

The deckhand’s eyes laid on that badge. Randell. She looked at ‘im again. Man’s got some years, but not too old. An’ them hazel eyes. After last night’s surprises at Hap’s, her brainpan was still all a jumble of fam’ly mysteries an’ missed connections…enough tah kin if this here fella was the genuine article, her muddled nature could mess things right up fer a person she come tah care about. “Ni hao, Rowan,” she finally said. “Muh name’s Abby. You a relation?”

“What? To you, no I don’t think so.” He answered without thought, then chuckled absently at his own joke. “Penelope, yes. She’s my second daughter. I, uh, had reason to believe she was on Greenleaf - alive, which I can’t tell you how much of a comfort that is… but anyway. Yeah, yes. I’m her father. Oh, and nice to meet you Abby, by the way.”

Yup, Abby thought as a blush rose tah her cheeks, I can sure screw up. “Ah hell,” she give in, “here I am lettin’ yah bake out in the heat like this. C’mon,” she waved toward the ramp, “lemme take yah inside. I can getcha a cold drink while I figger out where she is.”

“Ah, no, thank you.” His affable light smile faded into a more sad one as he took a step back at the offer, waving his free hand then indicated his outfit as he added: “This is not as hot as it seems - specially engineered for the planet’s temperature. Anyway, after last night, I think it’s best not to cage her in. She’s always been like that, so … yeah.”

Though his tone remained light, it was certainly not as happy as he was making it out to be. He lifted the package. “If you could just give this to her, I’d appreciate it.”

Abby tucked the clipboard under one arm, so’s tah accept tha package with both hands. “I surely will, sir,” she took it with a reverence, “but are yah certain? I’m sure we could find ‘er in two shakes?”

For a brief moment, Rowan did consider the offer. It would be more than wonderful to see his daughter again. But, he knew what he said was true. Penelope was the sort to come on her own and only go further away if chased, especially when she didn’t want to be found. “I’m sure, Abby. Thank you for this. It… is more than enough to know she’s alive and well.”

Fer a moment, she almost begged, til she sussed that pang in ‘im. Couldn’t never tell what drew wedges intah families. But tha pain was always there. “Okay…” she give in. “Shiny. Jest lettin’ yah know that we’re here til noon tomorrah, if yah change yer mind.”

There was likely a part of him that would have preferred not to know that, but he thanked her all the same before heading back down the docking port. If Penelope had a mind to see him, then at least he’d know when to stop expecting her. Still, he smiled as he shoved his hands into his pockets and strolled on home.

“May tha road rise,” she said softly tah Mister Randell’s back. Abby studied the bundle in ‘er hands with a might uncertainty, afore common sense kicked in an’ she headed up tha ramp. She’d stepped through tha after hatch when that cool air hit ‘er. Fer all tha gooseflesh it raised ‘neath her sweatshoked tee shirt, Abby took one look an’ knew she’d have tah change afore meetin’ anybody, especially one ‘o’ the men.

She’d jest about tah head fer her room when Pen come boundin’ down the steps. “Oh, hey Pen,” Abby greeted her with tha package. Just met a man says he’s yer daddy. He broughtcha this.”

Penelope’s lifted hand in greeting froze with the rest of her just for a spell. Her tired features which resembled her father’s about the eyes went from contentment to mild hesitate panic. But, it was gone in a blink, beings he wasn’t standing around in view. She smiled as she reached to take a parcel. “Thanks, Abbs. I hope he wasn’t any trouble.”
The deckhand shook ‘er head. “Not a’tall. I invited ‘im in, but he turnt that down. Gotta tell yah true I’s a little hard tah be ‘til I conjured who he was.” Her eyes showed some remorse at her earlier behavior. “Hope I didn’t put ‘im off, Pen.”

“Knowing him, he probably didn’t think nothin’ of it.” There was fondness to that statement as Penelope’s easy smile returned. “I was on my way to shower - it was an interesting night last night…”

The dried remnants of white and yellow smears that remained on her face-paint Cyd had done up all streaks along her temple and cheek. There may have been a leaf in her hair, which she tucked back behind her ear and found in the process. As she pulled it free, she asked: “Say, did you get out into the city any?”

Abby nodded ‘er head. “Got tah do some traipsin’ about. Had a perty good night of it, but weren’t nothin’ excitin’...leastways compared tah tha Skyes when they come in this mornin’.” She spied the erant leaf, pretendin’ not tah notice that or tha makeup made Pen look like she mighta been same place as the three passengers. “Yew git up tah no good?”

“From what I remember, it was fun.” She grinned, absently pulling the parcel to her chest. “But a lady doesn’t share those stories.”

It was a joke - a play on their previous conversation, complete with a wink. With an air of pondering, she added: “I will say that a night out in Greenleaf isn’t done if you don’t wake up in a tree.”

Abby’s jaw dropped as all kindsa pitchers ‘o’ tree sex flew through ‘er mind. She threw up a hand. “I don’t wanna know…wait…I think I do!”

That got a trill of Penelope’s merry laughter, and she shook her head. Amusement touched her eyes as she teased her friend with: “My lips are sealed.” Definitely was poking fun, but that was the nature of friendship, wasn’t it?

“Great,” the deckhand grumbled. “Yew get monkey sex an’ all I git’s bein’ a one woman wet tee shirt contest! Gotta go change outta this’un. Catch ya later!” With a smile, Abby turned toward ‘er room an’ hurried off.

"Later, Abbs." Penelope laughed again at the grumbles, the departing call after Abby nearly lost it in. As she turned to go back the way she came, her gaze shifted down at the package. Quieter, to herself, she asked: "What could he have sent..."

Firefly - Second 'Verse

Walking After Midnight

Strolling Tune

Mist hummed in the night air all around Penelope, soft and loose, thick and gentle. The moisture was too heavy to sway on its own; humidity of Greenleaf made the notion of a light mist a fantasy. The small rainbow tablet that had dissolved on the pilot’s tongue earlier on in the evening had nearly run its course, but stepping outside had brought a whole new wave of sensations. An age old appreciation coming to the forefront of her mind as she moved on out into the once familiar streets, hands threading through the thick air as she went, feeling each tiny bead of water so acutely as it brushed her skin it was almost like swimming in air.

Fascinated as she was, her feet had carried her away once more without her much planning its course. She knew it so well that when she closed her eyes to hear the new music of a light rain starting to hit the rich canopy of rooftops and jungle alike. A peaceful lullaby after the wild rhythmic chaos that was the rave she’d left behind.

The enchanting enhancement of ambiance all around halted just as Penelope reached forward to part large waxy greenery obstructing her path, the second-nature of it giving her pause as her hazel eyes settled on the tiny section of green space allotted to a base-level family dwelling. Her lips formed a small ‘oh’ in surprise, though the word hadn’t slipped her lips even in a whisper - no chance of it being heard over the rain that was coming down. Or was that still the drugs?

She swallowed, scanning the exterior floor-to-ceiling window wall to see it entirely dark inside was a relief. The haze of her mind was preventing her from calculating any concept of time, let alone when now just happened to be aside from a bad time. Very bad. In fact, there wasn’t a good one when coming here was concerned.

The foliage she was hidden by consumed her when Penelope’s hands fell on reflex, pulled in towards her chest as she took a step back. Being free from decision had been a crutch for so long now that when it came to making one, her mind seemed to idle out - much like it did now, with no part due to the little rainbow pills.

First, had she been seen? Coming here, specifically. The entire walk, she’d been in her own little world - different than her usual style, at least. Normally, she’d at least notice things other than the way the air felt. Her mood had been too good, too relaxed - carried on from the release of inhibitions likely as far back as opening up to her captain about her own predicament.

As she took in the overgrown green-space from her hiding spot, Penelope fought to speed up the process of getting her brain in the right sorts. Distracted by observations of what she could make out in the darkened house - curiosity making its way ahead of logic as it was bound to do when she weren’t holding the reins tight enough - were slowing her down a might bit though.

Okay, focus, Penelope - now, ain’t no way to tell if someone was takin’ note of my passing through. Late as it is, most of these folk are sleepin’... everyone inside is. If anyone is still here… hard to tell.

From the neglected state of the patio, she wasn’t sure. At the thought, a heaviness settled about her shoulders as if the weight of the rain coating her bare skin had been stacking and finally registered. There had been so much avoidance for years, and standing here before this darkened living unit seemed to bring all that up at once.

A light flicked on from deep inside the quarters. Penelope looked up just as the light went out, then another came on. She pinpointed it as the light above the stove, the furthest back room in the small unit. Someone was moving around in the dim light, too far away to identify. Her hand closed around the large waxy leaf as she pulled it up as if to shield her face, an unnecessary additional camouflage.

Obscured to one another, Penelope was free to watch the figure going about whatever it was that they were doing before moving closer into the sitting area. And then to the window-wall. Penelope’s eyes widened as she took another half-step back, pulling the leaf with her as the ever-present city light illuminated the figure as it strode outdoors onto the covered patio area.

The gasp that escaped her lips at the sight of the man as he lit up a cigarette hadn’t been what got his attention. It was the large leaf slipping from her grasp and righting itself with a flap, rustling the nearby plants and sending the settling dew flying. “Penelope?”

There was no possible way he’d seen her. She was too far back in the wild thicket. Without thought on either party’s part, they both bolted - her away and the man she’d seen trailing after her. Though she was still feeling the effects of the drug in her system, especially now that her heart was racing again as her feet pounded the payment in turn, she still had much more agility on her side than her pursuer. And when she reached the forest, there was no way he’d catch up. He never would follow her out into the jungle.

Firefly - Second 'Verse

Thank you for the information. When the miscellaneous thing Pen doesn't end up eating becomes part of the main plot of a post, I'll ask those questions. As far as my assumption there wasn't a lot of food on board... I believe, when Pen asked at the start of the RP, you're the one who pointed out fresh food wouldn't last long on a spaceship and shut down any idea of hydroponics without even asking our GMs if it were possible. That in mind, the fact that fresh food is scarce in most of the outer planets, and the amount of food cooked on New Melbourne and to Greenleaf, it seemed feasible the food supply would be low.

Firefly - Second 'Verse

@Gunther

So, lots of activity on Day 2! The Skyes embark on their latest heist. Yuri realizes that his future is in the hands of a "shuttle chaser." Alana's pulling stitches and prescribing sound advice. Father Collins will arrive. Hook has dropped hints about visiting a professional. Cal and Pen will get the skinny on our next job from their new best friend, Hafez Nadal. And Abby, wild child that she is, has plans to go shopping for headphones. Lots to write, and always a joy to read.

@sail3695

It's Day 2 afternoon on Greenleaf, and we're rolling right along. Cap'n and Pen scored us a run for Capital City, Osiris. Thanks to Niska's shuttle chaser lawyer, Yuri's back aboard and lookin' for the mechanic's job. We ain't sure, but we conjure the doc's gettin' all gussied up fer her escape with the cap'n. Hook done disappeared. Rumor has it he mighta R-u-n-n-o-f-t tah scratch "the itch." Abby's parked out front, catchin' up on 'er readin' when she ain't talkin' trade of one sort or t'other.
Father Collins been pointed right at China Doll, an' he got concerns as tah just who might be the bad guys here.

@sail3695

Based off this, Hook wouldn't be around in the later afternoon. I'd assume it'd be a-ok for other people to use the kitchen... and coffee would either be gone or need to be remade.

Firefly - Second 'Verse

Peace. Love. Unity. Respect.

China Doll Galley, Evening, Greenleaf Day 2

OOC: JP between @Aalakrys, @MK Blitzen

Music to Face Paint To

Cyd stared into the small mirror set up on the galley table with one blue eye staring back at her just as intently. On the right side of her face she’d painted one half of two tiered butterfly wing in pretty neon orange, yellow and blue colored face paint surrounding her eye. Now with a steady hand and fine brush, she outlined the design in a day-glo white. There were far too many flying socks and butt jokes in the shuttle to concentrate, and she’d donner either sib if she had to start over.

“Pretty,” Penelope said mid-stretch as she walked into the galley to see the design-work playing across Cyd’s face. The pilot had just finished up a simulation with Sam checking over the Doll’s logistics and whatnot, leaving her hankering for some sustenance. As she moseyed on over to help herself, idly noting the continued absence of the deckhand that practically lived in the galley on the way, she asked: “Fun plans tonight gettin’ ya all decorated up?”

Cyd glanced up from the mirror. “Aweh, Pen, plans for a madder jol!” She replied excitedly winking from her butterlfied eye. “Er, a rave. Me and the sibs. Day-glo will look lekker if you’re rolling.”

“Looks, ah, that way now, I think,” Penelope didn’t sound certain, but continued on her way to find out what she could scrounge. Her skills were definitely not aligned with cooking, but she could slap together an edible concoction when pressed. As she rummaged, she asked: “Goin’ into the city or takin’ the party underground?”

“Underground, oweh? You’re welcome to tag with me and the sibs, I don’t know the DJ, but I have extra kandi.” She held up her left arm, with brightly colored plastic bracelets stretching from her wrist midway down to her elbow. “Just a bunch of bravs and bunnies, loud music, a little bit of drugs, or … a lotta bit of drugs, everyone loves a rave.”

The cupboards looked a little low, which wasn’t surprising given all the good food they’d been eating as of late. It was unlike anything Penelope was used to, flying transport as she did. Maybe it was a good indication that Cal and Rex managed funds well… or a sign that they flew through coin as swift as it was earned. No sweat for her though. Not much was. And Penelope had just found a carrot to shred into the can of soup she planned on heating as she listened to Cyd. “I only been the once, and it was on business - wild sort of fun, it looked. Place called Primordial.Or Primal… Primal Instinct?”

The lid of the can popped off as she completed the name, and she looked down at the contents just about as pleased as she had been about any other meal. As she moved on to heating it, she continued talking with a grateful smile at Cyd for the offer on the tail end since she’d been keen to actually participate. “Folks - ah, bravs and bunnies? - worked there were painted up all tribal in that glow paint and wore next to nothin’ but foliage design. Always meant to go back… or, to any sort’a ravin’.”

“Oweh?” Cyd asked. “This is underground, pop-up. folks wear what skin they’re in. It gets mad hot, so shorts, bikini, tape, whatever says you. Like paint.” Cyd dramatically showed off her butterfly wing design - then giggled at her own antics. “Says who you are.” Sliding out the seat next to her for the pilot, she held up the pallet for Pen to see, and asked: “You want to try?”

It might have sounded mad to some people, but Penelope was definitely following what Cyd was putting down. The colorfulness of a butterfly suited her, too, she thought as she considered the offer. Her eyes on the chair and spoon tucked between her lips. “I ain’t got any more plans for the evenin’, an’ it sounds fun.”

She sat the spoon aside and flipped off the heating plate as she moved away to join Cyd at the table, musing along the way. “I never much thought about what says who I am… but all the rest makes sense now on the leaf-like clothes.”

“If it’s who you are,” Cyd said with a wink of a butterflied eye. “So… who is Pen, the pilot? First things first. Single or taken?”

Penelope laughed as she took the seat, finding amusement in most things was natural. Cyd made it easy though, the animation and life in the other woman more pronounced if possible by the vibrant wing on her face. The grin on her face had her eyes dancing along in the infectious levity of her company. “I don’t have no commitments to nobody - ‘cept the Doll’s next job, but that ain’t what ya meant.”

Cyd smiled, and dabbed a sponge in some primer. “Right side. Left side means your heart and someone else’s have a matchy beat-beat-beat..” She pointed upwards towards the ceiling, indicating for Pen to look up while she dabbed some primer beneath the eye and onto her cheek. “No commitments,” she repeated, making a note to herself. “Tell me something true. Three words. Who are you?”

The cool sensation of make-up being applied against her cheek was a first, or at least a first in a long time, but she followed directions as given and thought of the last time. It was nicer this time around. “Huh… “

The question gave her something else to think about. There were things she liked, and things she did, and things she was good at… but three words that described who she was. That was honest? That was a lot. And the ceiling could look nicer with some kind of decoration… Without moving, she looked over her cheeks down towards Cyd, that glint in her eye still. “I feel like I’d need some’a them drugs ta answer that question.”

Cyd giggled, pointing down this time so she could put primer over Pen’s eyelid and brow. “A mystery, even to you, oweh?” She said playfully, tapping her thumb to her chin while she thought. “Favorite colors then. I like things that come in threes.”

Penelope sighed, “Can’t go choosin’ one color over another when they all have merit. Can’t appreciate one without another to compare it to, and some don’t work in certain lights or in certain settin’s. Ain’t their fault. No reason to like another more for it when the one could be much better in another palette.”

She thought for a moment, going back to Cyd’s first question and still coming up empty. It weren’t that she didn’t know what the other woman was getting at, because she often asked similar questions of her little creations as she toyed with them. Not expecting a vocalized answer, of course. Applying it to herself, though, that was interesting. “Reckon I’m more the sort to just be me without thinking on it too much.”

Cyd gave that a moment’s thought, pursing her lips, tilting the girl’s head slightly to the side. Hazel would pick up any colors she used, but the colors she used would determine if the pilot’s eye would shine green or blue or gray. She was close enough that inhaling brought the faint scent of citrus, lemons and grapefruit, it was light and pretty and very much suited who Cyd thought her to be. With a smile, she had her idea, and dipped a brush in some emerald grease paint. “Sometimes,” the girl with the aqua hair said thoughtfully as she dotted the paint along Pen’s face, “it doesn’t need to be about who you are, or what you want to show the world.” She worked the rest of the way in silence, using yellows and pinks and whites, something small, right above the eyebrow, then held up the mirror for Pen to see.

Cyd gave her small clusters of white flowers with hints of pink and yellow, situated on green leaves, and accented by tiny white stars. Pink like grapefruit, yellow like lemons, green for her home planet. “You can wash it off if it’s not your style,” she offered. “I didn’t want to give you anything big. A pretty face shouldn’t be hidden, oweh?”

Despite her own artistic ability, Penelope didn’t assess the work alongside her eye with any airs. Her soft smile was true as her gaze went from the pleasantly delicate and simple piece to Cyd. “I like the touch of stars you added in. Suits me just right, I think, though sayin’ it out loud might seem like I got a big head now you done said that.”

Her grin spread at the last, this fun-poking side of her apparently sticking around. First Abby, then the Cap’n, and now Cyd. Penelope hadn’t felt this at ease in a long time. “Reckon I should go get dressed - or, dressed-down, from what ya said. Don’t want to keep ya.”

“Dressed down, it’ll be lank hot, oh, and last thing,” Cyd said before the pilot left. She searched her arm for a decent starter, yellow, pink and white plastic beads that matched Pen’s make up. “Your first kandi. You can keep it or trade it if you wanna roll.” Cyd handed over the ‘jewelry,’ then collected her paints and supplies. “Madder dancing!” she called shuffling as her rave sneakers flashed blue, pink and green.

Penelope looked at the little beads in her palm, head slightly tilted, then up to see Cyd moving away. She smiled at the energy of the other woman. “Alright, thank ya. I’ll bring ya somethin’ for it. Meet ya at your shuttle?”

“Lekker!” Cyd called back, already dashing off to tell the sibs they had a plus one for the night.

The pilot turned and went the other way, back towards her bunk to find something loose and light. It wouldn’t be difficult as most of her clothes were of that sort, the ones she’d backed away with her when she left Hafez’s estate. As she rummaged through the colorful assortment, she made note of worn or faded pieces in the limited collection. That sense of permanency settling into her decision to stay on with the China Doll past Greenleaf, her homeworld was trickling into other decisions as well.

The last crew she’d been with, she never did anything on shore leave with them. And now she was looking forward to whatever sort of adventure she’d just signed on for with the tentative long-term passenger. The smile spread across her face at the notion as she pulled up the crochet bralette top she’d worn on her travels of New Melbourne’s beaches and accompanying cut off mid-rise shorts. That would work, yeah? Only one way to find out.

Firefly - Second 'Verse

Books, Blankets, Bolts, and Beans - Greenleaf, Day 2
later afternoon/early eveningish

JP/collab from @Aalakrys and @sail3695

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Once Penelope departed Cafe Al-Baz with her captain, they parted ways for Cal to do any last minute preparations for his night out and for her to hum along the way back to the China Doll. Her thoughts never wandered too far from what she saw along the way, taking in the subtle nuances of her homeworld. When the path could divert back to familiar trails, she took the one that led her to her new home and steered her thoughts to present little joys.

The party had been nice - fun, even, with the dancing - seeing Hafez again … odd. She’d never been quite sure how she felt about what had brought them close, and wasn’t about to spend time thinking on it now. Instead, she wondered more at how to describe the delicacies at the party to Sam once she returned to the flight deck. Taste was something more challenging without a basis of comparison… but she’d made it work before.

When she made it to the ramp and found Abby sitting pretty in the lawn chair, she felt all was just right. Somehow, even when back on the planet she’d longed to step foot back on, there was a comfort in seeing the young girl being dutiful as ever. That scowl she wore naturally faded some when Penelope lifted her hand in greeting as she came up alongside her. “How’s the chair ridin’ treatin’ ya, Abbs?”

The deckhand closed ‘er book. “Tolerable…tolerable,” Abby give Pen the sorta smile meant trouble. “Folks is folks. Some good, some? Yew conjure. Heard we got work. How’s tha party? Her mouth’s jest shy ‘o’ goin’ full on cheshire cat with tha pilot.

“Brought ya some party back with me,” Penelope said as she reached into her cloth bag to pull out a fancy cloth napkin and handed it over. “There was all sorts of delicious food.”

“Thank yew,” the teenager accepted the little bundle. “I might save it fer our new mechanic. That fella Yuri…him as we pulled outta tha ocean? He come back tahday, askin’ ‘bout joinin’ the crew. Still looked powerful beat up, so I got ‘im a passenger bunk tah rest til Cap’n gets back.”

“Well, ain’t that serendipitous,” Penelope smiled brightly after a moment of wide-eyed surprise registered. “That’ll be a nice treat for him, for true. The Doll might be in need of a mechanic the way I been havin’ to fly her - an’ our next job might call for some more…”

She looked off as she thought on the possibilities, reminding herself that she was trusting that the job was fine reeled her back in though as her smile returned. “Cap’n ain’t got ya on that chair the full stay, does he? There’s some places ya gotta see, ya know.”
“He tole me we got a goodly amount ‘o’ cargo.” Abby shifted in ‘er chair. “If I can git us a couple more shipments an a passenger or two he’ll probably let me off tha leash.” The knowin’ smile come creepin’ back. “Mebbe I’ll go daincin’...”

“Won’ do no good makin’ your fella jealous by showin’ off your moves for some city boys ‘fore he got to see ‘em.” Penelope returned with a spreading grin of her own. “But your secrets are always safe with me.”

So Pen weren’t gon’ just give it up without a fight. “I conjure he wouldn’t mind me practicin’,” Abby could barely hold off laughin’. “How’s ‘bout yew?” she teased. “Ever git some daincin’ practice in?”

“Abby, a lady don’t right go practicin’ with just anybody then go yappin’ about it with tha girls,” Penelope attempted to chide, but smiled all the way through it then could barely make it through the rest without laughing between her words as she added: “Ain’t proper, it ain’t.”

There were tears in her eyes from the melodical laughter of her words, but she shook her head and said, “Alright, alright - Cap’n went yappin’, I take it. He tell ya that he knows a few steps, too? Surprising man, that Cal.”

“He ain’t tha only one!” the younger chortled. “But naw,” Abby give ‘er a grin, “I think that’s right nice! He said you’s a great dancer…what? It’s sorta sweet!”

Penelope’s lifted brow smoothed as she tilted her head, toe of her flat kicking thoughtfully at the dock. “Well, there’s all sorts’a partners one could go dancin’ with. Reckon it was ‘bout time I got back on the floor.”

Her smile returned near instantly though, as her hazel eyes turned back on the deckhand, a playful little glint in her eye. “But you keep mind what I said ‘bout practicin’, young lady. I got to see about ‘roundin’ up blankets I left all about in our hurry to make it planetside an’ warm up a spell.”

It was all kindsa nice havin’ someone lookin’ out fer her, tah say nothin’ ‘o’ gittin’ poked at ever’ now an’ agin tah be a “young lady.” Aunt Lupe’d like that, Abby mused til the talk moved tah Pen’s blankets. “Got two of ‘em,” she said. “Washed, dried, an’ folded up on tha galley table. One yah loaned me…an’ Rex’s. Thought yah might want that’un double clean afore yah set fingers on it.”

At hearing that the blanket she thought gone forever was washed and waiting in the galley, the smile Penelope wore full of amusement shifted to pure warmth. “That’s our Abbs, goin’ above and beyond ‘fore we even know we need somethin’. Thank ya.”

She patted Abby’s shoulder as she passed, intending to head on up and collect those two before double-checking all the other places she’d strayed while in the cold to make sure she hadn’t left any behind. The final stop before taking the haul to the little space of her own would be the galley to collect the last bit. A little smile touched her lips as she idly thought of her home away from home - at home.

As she visited the engine room and made her way to the nose of the ship, she let her mind wander only so far as to consider how that meeting with Hafez seemed to bring her to terms with her past. That part of her past, anyway. There were no lingering feelings of uncertainty that would’ve plagued her before. Just the opposite, in fact. The year or so away doing routed deliveries on schedule, disconnecting and reassessing had been just what she needed. That, and whatever had snapped her reality into place in the conversation with her current captain.

Just as she entered the galley, her pondering was done, and instead she was humming the tune from the party absently and thinking of dancing. When her hazel eyes came to rest on the stranger, she tilted her head in curiosity only just a moment before recalling what Abby had said. This could be the man from the ocean. Or a passenger. Both, even, since he technically wasn’t hired yet. Still, she smiled easily as always. “Findin’ everything ok? Hook, the hand that usually is around the kitchen, must’ve gone off somewhere.”

Yuri turned at the sound of a woman’s voice. “Hello.” There was something surprising about her, an easy cordiality that took him unawares while setting his mind at ease. “I thought a cup of coffee might answer while I await the captain. I’m Yuri, by the way,” he said as the pot dispensed a thickening black ooze which smelled every bit as old as it looked.

“Penelope.” Penelope’s breezy tone faded as she cast a concerned look at the contents of the cup, skeptical if he should be drinking that, and the easy stride she’d been taking towards the blankets piled on the table was detoured to that cup instead. She held out her hand for it, and prompting poured the liquid out once he handed it over as she shared the news. “Might want a fresh pot for that wait - could be a minute. Cap’n already dealt with one matter of business today, and his plans for the evenin’ could keep him plenty occupied…”

While she’d kept the details of what exactly his plans were to herself, her tone not exactly alluding to anything one way or another, Penelope was busy preparing the new pot by collecting the tin of beans to be ground before taking it and the pot to the sink to be dumped and washed. “Abbs said you were lookin’ to join the crew, and seemed optimistic enough to give ya a bunk you were supposed’ta be resting on…”

At the friendly teasing, she glanced over to let him know it wasn’t a chiding.

“Thank you,” he gestured with his bound arm. “I didn’t conjure that making a pot of coffee would be a two handed job.” He chuckled at the mild taunt, responding with a shrug. “I’ll pass out soon enough…Penelope. Wait,” Yuri looked upon her as a realization took light in his eyes. “Abigail…Abby…does she call you “Pen?”

“Yeah, I reckon so.” Penelope said as if it just occurred to her, but went back to placing the beans into the coffee grinder.

The mechanic rested a hand upon the counter to steady himself. “So then, you’re the pilot? The one who rescued me?” He knew it the instant the words had left his mouth. He wasn’t a medic, but Yuri conjured enough to know that the surreal fog these past few days served to protect him. The doctor might explain it as a bulwark, a suspension of belief to avoid further shock to a battered mind and body. There would come a time, he knew, when he’d simply…crash. His mission now was to slow that descent without coming off as completely moon brained.

With deliberate pacing, Yuri made his way around the counter toward the pilot. “Penelope,” he offered a hand that trembled despite his fervent rallying. “You found me out there,” Yuri’s voice quavered so slightly. “I can never repay what you…and your shipmates did for me. Thank you…thank you.”

Penelope had turned at the question to look at him, a tilt to her head as she regarded him in the approach around the counter. She couldn’t very well say it was Sam that had actually found him, though it had taken restraint not to since she was free to offer up praise where it was due in most cases. Besides, the intensity in the gratitude threw her slightly, enough to still her tongue and think. Setting the grounds now in the tray into place, she dusted her hand off and took the one he offered with that hesitant smile coming out. “Wasn’t thinkin’ it was somethin’ in need of repayment, but if I can hold that bunk rest over your head then I will.”

He clasped her hand, gratitude conveyed through a single shake and a smile that rose to his eyes. “Trust me…ten hours adrift in that ocean really makes you appreciate your rescuer.” The mechanic released his grip, allowing the hand to fall free at his side. “And yes, I’m certain your doctor would agree with you on bunk time.”

“So..China Doll,” Yuri said. “Abigail…Abby…mentioned she’d been covering since your last mechanic. She said that things seemed pretty normal. What does the pilot think?”

“Pretty normal?” That little smile of hers hinted that she found amusement in that opinion from the girl who had gotten shot in the rear, but didn’t disagree. At least aloud. Instead, she flipped the coffee pot on and then turned to look back at him as she leaned back against the counter. “Are you askin’ if I think we’re worth workin’ with? Because I might be a little biased.”

“Um, me too?” he laughed. “The best thing I can do for the folk who scooped me up is to tend to this boat’s aches and pains. Is she handling well?” he asked as one eye drifted toward a thin stream of fresh coffee trickling into the pot. “Does everything feel…normal?”

“Well, ain’t you forward - askin’ after how the Doll’s performance feels.” Penelope’s smile curled at a corner as she turned to give that mug she’d set aside a rinse then started off towards her originally intended destination: a fresh pile of blankets, the colors all that was needed to know it was hers. Better than having a name on it. As she went though, she did actually answer as was right in the best interest of the ship. “Used to pull to the right, but some passenger had Abbs workin’ down in there. Diagnostics didn’t report nothin’ after we hauled you up on the way here. Was going to run a simulation once all was settled - which is what I’m actually on my way to do once I get these put away.”

Penelope lifted the bundle in her arms, turning as if to show him. It was more to assess if he was the sort to invite himself along, but at least she could bar him on grounds that he weren’t officially a crew member yet. Between Sam and his need for sleep, it felt more responsible to send him on his way if he tried.

Yuri nodded, his smile bordering on the sheepish as he conjured her telegraphing. “Sorry,” he admitted. “I get pent up in the nuts and bolts, and next thing I know I’m diving head first before you can say “boo.” After beating a tactical retreat to the coffee pot, he poured out an aromatic cup. “It’s a right pleasure meeting you, Penelope.”

“I can understand that…” Penelope said, not even close to being consoling. She understood, that distance in her gaze only thoughts of the black for a moment before she smiled back. “Don’t know about nuts and bolts, but that ‘feelin’’ business… So far, Doll’s been plenty providin’.”

“If Cap’n is of his right mind and takes ya on, I’ll let ya know how that diagnostic goes. Till then…” She nodded down at the coffee cup in Yuri’s hand, giving a slight shrug since the bundle kept her arms full. “I would say go easy on that, but it’s decaf. Ran out of the good stuff on the way over since we were’a icebox.”

“Oh.” he stared down into the cup as the neutrality of his face waged a battle against his lifelong caffeine prejudice. “Well,” Yuri observed as he lifted the mug in a pseudo toast, “wouldn’t kill me to knock off the rocket fuel for awhile. Cheers.,” he offered.

As the first limp swallow crossed his lips, the mechanic surveyed the galley space and the uch more comfortable environs of the passenger lounge. “I might as well get comfortable,” the smile returned as he angled for a chair that gave the impression of swallowing him whole. “Good luck with the simulation,” he tossed a friendly wave toward Penelope.

She gave a nod before heading her own way with the bundle of blankets. As she walked off, she called back: "Get some shut-eye, potential new guy. Gonna need it."

Firefly - Second 'Verse

Hoedown at Hafez’s - Part 2

Stolen Dance - Milky Chance

JP/collab from @Aalakrys, @wanderingwolf, and @sail3695

Cal regarded her from a tilted neck, jaw working through his mouthful as he surveyed her open hand, then the dance floor. In mirroring sentiment, the Captain wiped his hands clean on his own napkin before tossing it onto the table beside his barely-eaten line of hors d'oeuvres. “You asked for it; let’s see how you glide,” he said, hat on his seat, taking her hand and leading her onto the empty dance floor.

The last song ended as if on cue, and Cal squared up with Penelope, a glance toward the disc spinner. The bated breath between the first few beats of the next song saw Cal raise an eyebrow toward his compatriot, his right hand placed on her waist, her right hand in his left. A few seminal pulses in his frame tested their connection; the pressure in her follow was constant. With a glint in his eye Cal said, “You’ve done this before, haven’t you, Pen? You been holdin’ back on me.”

At the captain’s lead, Penelope was able to step just where needed so they had a steady rhythm that befit the song playing. Her usual easy smile stretched as she answered easily given their surroundings. “Don’t get much use outta legs flyin’ the Doll, but I couldn’t’a been a guest of Hafez’s for as long as I was and not learn ta dance. I was just tryin’ to figure up when you got time in, Cap’n.”

“I’m gettin’ my miles in right now,” Cal said as the song materialized into the steady clap and bass beat of the spinner’s audio. He led Penelope into a turn, a tension push and pull with a sudden stop mid-tempo. A shimmy started in his head, traveling down to his hip, then finally to his toe, before sending the signal to Pen through their joined hand for her to show her stuff.

The last time he’d danced like this was before Londinium, in a club on Zephyr, packed with late night trysts. He’d stuck out like a sore thumb from his hat to his boots. It didn’t take long before he was noticed by the club’s regular follows ready to give a new lead a spin. Only when his cortex read 0245, and his sweat-soaked plaid clung to his skin, did he finally call it quits with waves and moans–given he was due at 0300 for that next transport pickup.

As the steps the pilot made were in conjunction with the ever-present bass beat at first, she was all arms and hips sashaying as they moved. Penelope’s usual easy stride blended away into the music that seemed meant for her as she moved along to it with ease. Once the rhythm faded for a quicker tempo to take as the chorus returned, her eyes met Cal’s in a final turn just before she reached out with an extended arm to her partner.

Cal’s eyes widened, nodding his head just as the chorus began. He pulled her in toward him for a side-by-side tandem kick, “Look at those moves, Freckles; whoever said a Barefoot can’t dance?” After an eight-count of kicks, Cal led Penelope into a twirl, his hand keeping contact with her waist, before he joined her in a twirl to face her at the end. His head still bobbed to the beat as a grin he couldn’t stifle faced his high-flying dance partner.

There was a grace with which Penelope handled herself, a slinking and confident twirl here, a poised and preposterous wink there. He hadn’t met many of her ilk; hell, he hadn’t met a soul that bore semblance to Penelope Randell. His sidelong glance watched the genuine merriment on her face. The ease of her movements, especially given the confessions she’d shared with him just days ago. About her home. About her fear and longing. But there wasn’t a wink of that to be seen on the face Pen beamed now.

It was easy to get lost in the moment music and a good dance partner could provide, not to mention the familiarity of a party thrown by Hafez Nadal - even as tame as this one was as it started to die out. Still, it had brought back how the events breathed life back into her once coaxed out into them, and look at her now. Not even a care as she and her captain took to the floor for a bit of much needed unwinding with delightfully surprising compatibility in their coordination on the floor.

All eyes were now upon the adventurous couple who whirled and moved in thrilling syncopation. One pair studied the agile pilot in mixture of longing and resignation. Hafez Nadal had taken station along a far wall. His composure remained intact; nothing else would do. Yet, as sight of Penelope came welcome as water in his desert, the syndicate leader couldn’t help the sad smile playing at his lips.

The beat crescendoed, and Captain Strand stepped toward Penelope, his sign-posted wrist tucked behind his back. In one deft movement Cal turned into her, ducked bending double, and reappeared on her other side with a grin on his face. As the song played out its final bars, Cal watched the disc spinner nod, the flabbergasted faces of teenagers torn away from their ‘texes, the lens of the photographer, and so it was with a whisper that he asked, “Looks like we’ve got an audience, ready to take your bow?” A nice dip could be in order, if she were keen.

The kaleidoscope of her loose skirt swirled into the turn, and Penelope laughed aloud at the flourish with the question. It had been quite some time since the tickled sound escaped so freely, and she nodded. "We can't disappoint 'em now, can we?"

The song had that perfect lingering slow beat fade out that met with the depth of the dip she fell back into, guidance from her partner a trust to not let her fall from the hold and slow, lingering rise back upright. It was quite the sell, if she said so herself as her lazy lashes opened back up to the face of her wonderful dance partner. The rush of the swing dance was a nice transition into the tapered off beat.

Firefly - Second 'Verse

Hoedown at Hafez’s - Part 1

Afternoon, Greenleaf Day 2

JP/collab from @Aalakrys, @wanderingwolf, and @sail3695

Cafe Al-Baz was situated in the heart of Khao Yai’s trendy shopping and entertainment district. The exterior facade offered breezy patio dining along both adjoining streets, watched over by a prominent neon sign which hung proudly over the street corner. Today, that sign’s art deco fittings were dark, a mystery solved when curious passersby noted a placard at the main entrance.

Closed for Private Function. Reopening at Seven ‘O’clock.

“This looks like the place,” Cal said to his companion as he interrogated the easel. “Ladies first,” he said, with a turn of the handle, holding the door open for Penelope to pass. Whatever fun festivities lay ahead of them, he knew he’d at least make a good impression with the bottle of non-synthetic guava wine he’d been told was in high demand this year, according to the hawker he picked it up from.

Since Penelope had been Hafez Nadal's extended guest at one time in the past, she knew to expect a flair of lavishness here. Though her old friend had seen her quite wild from the jungle before, she was glad she'd made it back to the ship in time for a shower and fresh clothes after her accidental night back in the trees at the very least. As an added measure of consideration, she actually bothered the doctor a little for help with her hair. Now as she entered, she felt grateful to Alana's help keeping her locks from frizzing out and instead stayed as smooth befit such a snazzy place.

The doors swept open before them, permitting a refreshing burst of cool air. Two guardsmen, bedecked in traditional clothing with decorative scimitars at their waists, beckoned the captain and his pilot into the festivities. “Mr. Nadal welcomes the sayidi and sayidaty to this celebration. Most have dined, but there is abundance of food and drink. Please make yourselves comfortable and he will come to personally attend you.”

Captain Strand raised an eyebrow at the formalities paid to the pair, still cradling the bottle in his arm. “Thank you,” he replied to the men, a nod paid to each. He caught sight of a table replete with an all-you-can-eat buffet of meats and other treats and turned to his pilot. “Well, don’t mind if I do,” he said with a pitched brow in the direction of the smorgasbord.

True to form, Penelope's smile widened a little at all the extravagances as she walked along with her captain to the table. Here, her reservations slipped only in delight at seeing so many delicacies from Greenleaf spread out. She pointed out a few to Cal, helping herself to others, and telling her captain where they'd come from locally or how they were prepared. It was mostly genuine, though she also knew how to be less interesting to anyone with prying eyes. Boring, idle chatter. Too bad she sounded more than happy to share in her soft voice so long as her captain put up with it. She had gotten used to talking to Sam, after all.

Nodding along all the while Penelope articulated the finer points of each finger food immaculately dressed in banana leaves or other wrapped trifles, the Captain watched as his partner’s eyes lit up, the crinkle at her cheek right on the corner of her eyelid. There was a certain whirlwind about Penelope that caused one to stop and watch for a moment, but only for a moment before getting caught up in whatever caused her such joy. “Oh,” he’d exclaim in expectant delight at a fried plantain here, or a thinly sliced carne slathered in chimichurri. Moments later that sour face might return, bucking hard against the glisten in his eye.

One glance about the ornate room made it obvious that this party was on the wane. The attendees had all divided into their social groups. The men were gathered about the bar, or headed to smoke outside. Their wives and mothers were clustered near the dance floor, watchful of small children who darted recklessly about. Judging by the bored expression on the face of a hired disc spinner, none appeared interested in any dancing, beyond an old woman and a tiny girl. The child’s feet were atop her grandmother’s, and the pair held hands as the elder steered her charge about the floor. A photog hovered nearby, his lens starving for any subject that might birth a memory worthy of his pay.

A brief study of the young people showed that a dance of sorts was indeed taking place. The guest of honor was huddled with a gaggle of his friends. All the boys were slumped over, heads hung low as thumbs busily worked their cortex readers. Sitting across the way was a flock of young teenaged girls, similarly enthralled with their little devices.

Seeing all this splendid decorum and extravagance winding down had Penelope idly recalling a lifetime ago. She leaned over to the captain and nudged him with a glance to the dance floor. "If we'd come earlier, you coulda showed your moves, Cap'n"

He balked, “You haven’t been talkin’ to Abigail have you? You’re startin’ to sound like her: ‘moves,’ ‘clothes shoppin’,’ and the like.” Cal had just sidled into a chair across from his pilot, the hors d'oeuvres lined up across his plate like a battalion. “Tell you what, though, you ain’t wrong.” He removed his hat to place it across his knee. “Was a time I cut a rug across the ‘Verse in just about every cantina I could get into.” Taking in Penelope’s incredulous arched brow, he commented, “Somethin’ in your eye, Freckles? See, way I see it is ‘footwork’ ‘s ‘footwork,’ whether your squarin’ off at noon or for a waltz, get my meanin’?” He lifted his fork with a grin.

At that declaration, Penelope had no choice but to lower the beseeching brow that’d popped up in her clearly amused curiosity and wipe her hands clean on the napkin in her lap before offering one out to the captain. Her eyes danced freely as she made the suggestion to do the real thing. “I’d be remiss to let this fine opportunity to pass without experiencin’ it first hand, huh? Gotta warn ya, it’s been a while since I had need to put on my dancin’ shoes.”

She wiggled her strappy flat number bound around her ankle to note, the grin on her lips at her own expense. She weren’t the sort to go feeling silly, even if they were about to take to nearly empty dance floor. In fact, Penelope eyed the kids in hopes they’d join in on what she considered far more fun than the cortexes they seemed locked on. “Time to bring some life to the party, Cap’n?”

Firefly - Second 'Verse

I, too, will post here!

Ahem, earlier in the chat I expressed how it was enjoyable to do the AU. I'd never done one before, so it was interesting. It was also a nice activity put in as a 'break' during the holidays if we wanted to work on solo-ventures so as to not keep others waiting, if we went that route. I get anxious when it's my 'turn' because I don't like people waiting on me, haha.

But, I do agree with MK that if it were a choice between how to spend my time with life and the baby and all, I'd rather stick to our actual storyline so I wouldn't use the AU area often enough for it to be a separate thing. Doing it over the holidays for those that wanted to was a great way to go about it, so if it pops up and we're pausing the RP, then sure. Just here for those that are up for it. ^^

Firefly - Second 'Verse

Holiday Alternate Universe RP 2021

Born to Fly - Pt 2

---

“Alright, now hold her steady…” She heard Axel in the earpiece as she strained against the gear shaft tugging back with all the force of a horse that didn’t want to be broken. The weight of the mock weighted cargo, the shift of the churning storm winds, and resistance in the toggling were all against her. Each time she failed, she’d paid a price, so she set her teeth as tears pooled in the corners of her eyes from the pain in her arms.

If a stoic, closed-off asshole like her commander could believe in her, then she could do this. It would help if his form of punishment at her failures weren’t physical exertion of her limbs to ‘build up strength’ so she could handle the strain. What she needed was rest, but she wasn’t willing to ask for it until she had managed to balance the load.

“You’re dragging ass, soldier. Pick up.” The firm demand in her ear had her fighting back the balk, biting back a cry as she pulled up. Too hard. The ship jostled and pitched, sending her forward into the yoke. The loud buzzing sounded just before ‘simulation end’ flashed over her view.

In the moment of weakness, she cried out in anger as she pulled the headpiece free and slammed it aside. It recoiled and struck her back on her temple, and she screamed as she slapped it away before sinking down in the seat and covering her eyes.

“Was that necessary?” Axel’s voice wasn’t in her ear but at her side, peeking between her fingers she spread showed his impassive frown at her display. It wasn’t exactly disapproving, but he certainly didn’t find it amusing.

“I ca-” She stopped herself from saying what she heard her sister’s voice tell her every day after the first failure. The frown deepened, the big man obviously understanding where her words had started to stray. Penelope sighed as removed her hand, letting it slide down her face and drop to the armrest of the simulation machine. Her eyes strayed, ashamed by how childish she felt at wanting to just tell him how tired she was, how she just wanted sleep. He’d done so much for her. They weren’t even supposed to be here, hidden away on St. Albans instead of in the Kalidasa system as planned. And she couldn’t even manage to pass one simulation.

As a few seconds of silence passed, Penelope figured he’d left her to pout on her own, but then she felt a heavy hand on her hunched shoulder. “Come on, little bird. It’s past time for this.”

Wide hazel eyes turned back up to meet his steely unreadable gaze. Curiosity was always her weakness, pulling her from any way she strayed. So, she took his offered hand as it left her shoulder and uncurled from the simulation seat to stand. This was a new approach.

---

“Why are we up here?” Penelope shouted over the wind as snow fluttered wildly around them atop the stony tower. It was cold, even with the fur-lined coat buttoned from neck to knee, matching boots taking over from there. At her side, holding her steady near the edge, her commander looked out over the small city’s lights in the night. “Sir?”

“Close your eyes.” He said, which immediately got her to do the opposite as she looked up at him to see his dark features sprinkled with white flakes. He sighed as he felt her eyes on him, the sort that was long suffering and understanbly so given how long he’d been attempting to get this girl conditioned into a soldier that followed orders without question. “Humor me?”

It was difficult to deny the request when a man as large and foreboding as him looked almost as gentle as he sounded. She pressed her lips in consideration, then relented. The warmth of his presence at her side took precedence over all other sensations in the chilled air, so when he stepped back she immediately took notice. For half a heartbeat, she feared he was about to push her over the high ledge they’d stood on, giving up on her for true.

But she felt her arms being lifted upwards from her sides, held aloft outstretched by steady hands that directed them out, and the racing in her chest slowed as her brows knit in confusion again. Just as she made to turn her head over her shoulder, her gloves were tugged free from the fingertips and she gasped at the shock of cold chill that immediately coursed between her spread digits.

Though it were not drastically below freezing, a warmer day on this planet, she hadn’t expected the sudden rush against her bare skin. Her mind didn’t have time to question, though, because Axel was already explaining, stilling her very breath let alone her mind. “You weren’t trying to jump that day when I pulled you from the ledge on Osirus. You told me - or screamed at me, rather - that you were tired of people trying to keep you from flying. Now there is no one in the way but yourself, Penelope Randell.”

As much as she had tried to remember their meeting, or what she had originally considered her kidnapping, it wasn’t until this moment nearly two years later that the missing pieces returned. It felt like another life, honestly, in which she stood atop the building with her arms outstretched like he’d positioned her now. Before he’d grabbed her, how she’d been high on the enjoyment of the cold air coursing around her nearly bare arms, she had been recalling a childhood memory somewhere in the lingering haze of alcohol and drugs in her system. He’d pulled her from that, and the delayed reaction at being yanked from her memories and all that followed… she didn’t remember what all she’d said and how she fought against him when she realized the situation she was in. Was this his way of repaying her somehow?

She reached out tentatively, feeling the air swirl around her and only just noticing that Axel had released her. Giving her the moment he’d taken, if she wanted it and could find it again.

---

“Alright, hold steady just over the ridge.” Her commander’s voice came in her ear loud over the wind blasting all around him. She looked out the viewport at the horizon, then down to the readers as she pulled the boat up and to the left. “Don’t go bucking me in the canyon, Pen.”

“My flying isn’t to blame if you don’t strap in.” She called back as she neared the drop.

“Oh, he’s strapped.” Chimed in the second-in-command on this little operation. “No way in the ‘verse is he going to let me take over and get his pretty little bird all to myself.”

“I think that must mean he doesn’t trust my flying.” Penelope filled the silence from their commander, mock hurt to cover the implication that Reed could’ve been making. Sure, the ship was also a bird, but in their unit it was common knowledge that she was as well.

“How many simulations did it take before you managed to not crash and kill us all?” Axel asked, the flat tone giving humor only she heard.

It was too easy to fire back at her commander, as if he had lined her up for it. “And how long did it take you to realize you had me in the wrong boat?”

“Only scavvers and degenerates fly Firefly class, usually.” The commander groaned, a common conversation most likely. “Didn’t know your set of wings would be so bright.”

“I do like the way she glides.” Penelope mused just before getting the readings lined up proper. “Coming in on the drop zone, sir.”

“Lower the hold, then get your ass back up here. Sir.” Reed added with a bit of impatience. “Any heat read?”

“None, other than ours.” Penelope reported just before a signal flash. “Scratch that - incoming. We got five before they’re on us.”

“How the hell did we get tracked?” Reed fumed over the comms. Both the pilot and commander were in radio silence, steady with the task at hand. Penelope counted down the time, but otherwise kept the line open. “Sir, they’re going to be on us any second - pull up.”

The silence on the line had her pause. Instinct told her something was off. Engaging the auto sequence to hold steady, she took path to the cargo area as fast as her feet could go. Standing at the open drop gate, stood the second in command. If Reed hadn’t busted his leg up, he’d be the one making the drop and they all knew it. He looked up at her, the shattered control box in his hand for the lift. The moment their eyes met, a bullet landed directly between his eyes from the gun in her unwavering hand.

Before his body had time to fall through the chute, she was running back towards the flight deck. There was nothing she could do for the commander if he wasn’t still attached to the cables. No one else was on board to see to it. All she could do was get herself out of there, but even then she couldn’t bring herself to seal the hatch just yet. Outmaneuver, and hide. This planet had plenty of canyons, but if they were being traced … Well, she’d find out soon enough.

Without risking coming up, she took the canyon path as long as she could since the incoming vessel seemed to be honing in on the ship from a side she couldn’t see, so they must’ve been above. A little chase until she could get a safe distance away was the ticket, then into the black. From there, well… no one could stop her from flying. And she was going to spread these wings.