ataraxion | Fourth Imprint ⚡ Video

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Fourth Imprint ⚡ Video

[Claire isn't addressing the video as she often does. She's going through lists and occasionally checking through things.]

As this was my first jump, I was wondering if anyone has done studies on the affects of the body pre- and post jump. If there are any. I'd be willing to track anyone, regardless of species, in this matter.

This would of course include the body's reaction to lack of any normal planetary atmosphere as well as sunlight. I'm sure the artificial lights are all fine and well, but there must be some consequences, even minor, in what is happening to us.

Although I have never been in space. I just know back home it was my job to look after all involved in the place I worked. [Aren't you glad, Topher? For once she didn't call your job out. Progress.]

Thank you.

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[ No.

It can't be.

It can't be. ]

[ He had spent hours combing over the network—how could he have missed—?

He hadn't seen her name. Had only looked at the video-to-text transcripts, not the videos themselves—perhaps if he had, he would have… seen her— ]

[ But it's not her, is it.

There are—scars. She looks older. Changed. It can't be her.

No. It's not. It's not. And could never be. ]

[ Five minutes later, and Wesley's poured himself a stiff drink, consumed half of it, and is debating whether to answer the post at all; his hand is buried in his hair and he's staring at the video like it owes him all the answers he has questions for.

At last, his selfishness wins out; he can't stay away, no matter the universe, the body. Text is safe. ]

If you had volunteers, you could do the research yourself.

Of course I can. I was the general practitioner back home. Though it wasn't your typical place of work. If you can even call it that.

[ 'Typical place of work'. Hilarious. There's no such thing. ]

What was it?

It's complicated.

You're in luck. I like complicated.

Perhaps if you come down to the medbay for a phyisical, I will tell you.

[ There's no way that could possibly go wrong. ]

I'd like a name first.

[ If you say Fred— ]

That is complicated as well.

I'm listening.

If you were to ask my birth name, I don't know it. Or it was lost. I suppose you could say she's dead.

Edited 2012-06-11 21:32 (UTC)

[ Dead.

She's dead.

Dead.

Wesley looks at the word, staring up at him from his communicator, and takes a long minute to respond. Probably not the best thing to say to him, though it's not like—you'd know not to say it, looking like her. Or perhaps you would, if you saw his face?

Maybe. She can't be.

(It's easier to tell himself that, because otherwise—he can't bear to be disappointed when the world has already disappointed him so much.)

Carefully: ]

Would you be willing to tell the story behind that?

Edited 2012-06-11 21:49 (UTC)

Not over the network.

And if I visit you, you'll tell me.

I will try to explain as best as I can. I don't know all the answers though.

That's fine. [ Nobody ever knows all of the answers. Wesley just wants... most of them. ]

I'll drop in. Sooner rather than later.

I will be here. I don't really have any other place to go.

[ True to his word, Wesley arrives in the medbay sooner rather than later, but 'sooner' in this case is much closer to 'in a few hours'. He'd finished his drink, paced, thought of—things, the color blue, pigtails and glasses. Lab coats. And then left.

(He can keep it together. He's good at that. He'd managed around Illyria, and he'll manage it around... whoever she is. Not-Fred.)

It's almost startling to see her—different, but not as different as her face (in his world) had been lately. Telling, how willing he is to drop everything in the name of familiarity; it's his one weak spot. One that nobody knows here, not even Faith—not yet, at least—for which he's thankful.

Wesley approaches her steadily, stops, neutral-faced, calm. ]

We spoke over the network.

[She was at her desk going over more charts. Her hair was in the soft ringlets as it so often was. Her scars were as healed as they were, but they were still noticeable. She was used to people looking at them. It reminded her of what happened.

In that she knew who she was.

When the man approached, she looked up and gave him the smallest of smiles. It was genuine and her nose crinkled a bit (the only real sign that she wasn't insincere.]

Welcome to the medbay. [She stood.] You can call me Claire, though Whiskey would be more fitting.

[ The jolt that hits him is expected, but it still rattles. That smile should only ever belong on— ]

Wesley. [ He says, meaning himself, holding back the grimace. Two names. ]

Which would you prefer to be called? Claire or Whiskey?

Both are wrong so it doesn't matter. [She grabs another chart and heads back towards one of the rooms.]

What number are you?

[ He follows her, eyes narrowing. ]

Oh-oh-five. Seventh wave.

Why are they both wrong?

[She fills in little boxes.] You're new then.

Because my personality is not mine and yet it is. I evolved past what I was meant to be. In my world, some have said I'm not even human any more. [She turned to look at him. Up until this point, she didn't care that his curiosity had gotten him here.]

Why are you interested in me?

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Fourth Imprint ⚡ Video

1/4 | OH GOD and painful face confusion is go!

2/4

3/4

TEXT | 4/4

TEXT; poor Wesley ;~;

TEXT; his cereal has been effectively crapped in, as faith put it ._.

TEXT; especially when Claire doesn't know who she is ;~;

TEXT; cries THIS IS HORRIBLE but in the best way

TEXT; THEY MATCH IN SCARS-- SORT OF

TEXT; SOB OH MY GOD

TEXT; dfgsdfg man, punch to the feels, Wes

TEXT; dflkgjsk they are having a FEELS BOXING MATCH

TEXT; just to make things complicated...

TEXT; OH MY GOD CLAIRE WHYYYYYY

TEXT; because I am horrible

TEXT; itym amazing

TEXT; it really is. i'm such a masochist~

TEXT; me too ;u; are you cool with action?

TEXT; action it up.

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