ataraxion | 02 ♚ voice;

[ There's some white noise before Hal speaks, but it isn't hesitation this time. He's bored and indifferent, addressing this to the comms unit only as an afterthought. His voice is quiet, but it's not timid - it's carried by an easy confidence and a subtle aggression, though only if you're used to listening for that sort of thing. ]

What do you people do here? To raise morale. Therapy does not seem to be cutting it; this is a war zone. Crying about your feelings to someone without qualifications is hardly going to ease your burdens.

You rally and you hide in the tunnels as though you're waiting for Hitler to drop a bomb on your head, but this is not your home front, and you no longer have the luxury of calling yourselves civilians. Quiet reflections will do nothing to ease fear and tension when the enemy is at your door; you need something much bolder.

There is a reason soldiers so often resort to the excesses of alcohol and whores.

[ There's a distracted pause, and when he speaks again he sounds amused. ]

The mind is its own place, and in itself can make a heaven of Hell, a hell of Heaven. Cheer up, all of you.

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

I agree that listening to people bitch on this thing is exhausting, but it's not like there's anything better to do.

You could take advantage of all life has to offer before the opportunity is taken from you.

A soldier's medicine may be brief, but it's certainly more distracting than conversing with strangers.

Too late for that, I'm afraid. Luckily for me, death's offered more to me here than being alive ever could.

Soldier's medicine. You mean booze?

And whores.

[ Come on, keep up. There's a smile in his voice, though. ]

Then you are a ghost?

Right, can't forget the whores.

Guess you can say that, sure.

[ this place is weird though, she can't tell if she's alive again or just.. less of a ghost than she was at home. weird. ]

Being on the ship has altered you?

[ Not just amused, now - genuinely interested. He knows most of the rules of death back home; it's worth knowing how they might be different here. ]

I'm not allowed to wander as much as I could back home, let's just say that. Things take longer here, too, which is problematic.

[ when said 'things' entails healing after getting her throat slit, or getting chopped into pieces. you know, same old same old ]

I imagine that is a difficult adjustment. I suppose I have consistency to be thankful for, at least.