Remnants of the Earth

---Text Message Sent 2:13PM---

Yes to dispose of the mouse.

---Text Message Sent 1:44PM---

It sounds interesting though!

---Text Message Sent 1:37PM---

Don't most people scream at the sight of a mouse or at least call for the cat? What do you mean by a show? Like the movies?

---Text Message Sent 1:25PM---

I don't think it's cheesy. It's rather...sweet? Do you have any weekends free soon? I'd hate to be an imposition.

__________________QUICK STATS
Name Bobby-Mae Clark
Alias Bobby, πrate
Age 30
DOB February 2nd
Gender Female
Species Human
Ethnicity Aedolian
Height 5’6”
Occupation Pilot Echo, Ministry of Agriculture, Animal Husbandry Data Analyst
Residence The Citadel, Haviah


__________________IN-DEPTH STUFF

Physical Description

Bobby is of an average height with a plump, pear-shaped figure. She’s got some pudge on her and she’s woman enough to accept and embrace it. Her straight, strawberry-blonde hair is kept in a chin-length bob. Her hazel eyes are also framed by thick, square, black-rimmed glasses that takes up the majority of her pale, oval-shaped face. When she smiles she has big dimples.

When not in uniform, Bobby enjoys wearing cute blouses and skirts with flats. She prefers solid, neutral colours to patterns. Her jewellery is usually a simple necklace, a pair of stud earrings, and a small analog watch with a thing black leather wristband. She also likes wearing scarves regardless of the season or weather.

Personality

• Awkward. Bobby isn’t exactly the suavest of women in the social circles. She has a tendency to miss social cues sometimes and be entirely too blunt or too graphically informative.
• Endearing. But what she lacks in social awareness she makes up for in acts of generosity and earnestness.
• Nerdy. She is the ultimate geek. Careful what conversation you strike up with her because once she starts, there’s no off switch. She’s really smart and it’s not just those dorky glasses that make her so. She eats, breathes, and sleeps numbers and puzzles.
• Spontaneous. Bobby has a tendency to really surprise people. At first glance she seems like the ultimate homebody and yet to talk to her you’d hear stories about her going rock climbing in Travica or deep-sea diving with Ryun’s champion dive team or even ghost hunting in Amristah all by “sheer coincidence” as she tells it. She lets the impulse drive her and always has a story to tell once she comes back.

Things

• LOVES gory slasher movies. The more hamburger, the better.
• Is an encyclopedia for random macabre facts. Want to know how much blood is in the human body and how long it takes to bleed out? Want to know which flora and fauna poisons are the most deadliest and in what order? Ask Bobby. She’d be glad to tell you.
• Makes the best fruit crumble in the office and even won prizes for it in her youth. The secret? She’s not telling but please have another slice.
• Does math problems for fun in her downtime.
• Has a tendency to chew on the end of her pens and pencils.
• Is an impulsive shopper and adventurer. It’s not unusual that Monday watercooler talk with Bobby always has a bit of random weekend chaos. Have you ever been to an underground Solartan robot battle? They’re a blast! It’s almost too fantastic to believe….but I guess that’s why pictures exist.

Magic/Abilities

Telepath: She is an average to weak telepath. She is far better at shielding than she is projecting or picking up what others are letting off.

Psychometry: Bobby has a VERY strong and special brand of psychometry that has to do with numerical precision. While she cannot effect the probabilities of things or fabricate numbers she can intuitively instead of operationally process large amounts of data practically effortlessly and in some cases, instantly. Everything in life is a mathematical problem to her that can be solved. Hypothetically, this would make her a brilliant tactician were it not for her lack of expertise and success in the field and the fact that she has to be physcially present to come up with an answer. Her gift does not work very well remotely via images or other people’s perceptions.

Examples of what she is capable of can be found on Superpower Wiki

Relationships

Grimshaw: Bobby’s rather lazy and hyper-cautious dragon. Grimshaw has a fondness for his little Pilot and so fought hard to keep her out of the field and has placed at the most boring of boring desk jobs. He would rather see her safe and secure than climbing the career ladder, especially with her unique gift.

History

Bobby’s parents died in a fire when she was eight and she was placed in an orphanage where she grew up with a few bumps and bruises but relatively well. It wasn’t the worst experience in the world for her and she didn’t come out tragically scarred by it. She even is still in contact with some of her fellow orphan friends.

A late bloomer in all things in life, she didn’t start showing strong signs of being a psychic until a routine physical right before her twentieth birthday revealed that she was latently gifted. She was immediately drafted into candidacy where she struggled both socially and physically. It was thanks to the help of a few of her fellow candidates that she even made it through. Stage 1 was the hardest for her but she survived and graduated in five and a half years. She now works for the Ministry of Agriculture tracking offspring yields and she couldn’t be happier. Bobby absolutely LOVES her job.

__________________THREAD TRACKER
Current Threads


Complete Threads

Timeline

"Max!" she called back excitedly, recognising his nickname for her. "I'm in the kitchen, come on back! Mind the latch on the counter door. It sticks a bit."

The confectionary was a lost cause, so she abandoned it in favour of picking her way around the long steel table coated in flour to greet her guest. Her kitchen was generally neat despite the organised chaos of flour and sugar scattered about the surface. The dusty, white powder also clung to her cheeks and the fabric of her floral apron making it look like she'd fought and lost a fight with a ghost.

The doe-eyed woman beamed with delight at being able to meet her new friend. The thought that this stranger could have unsavory intentions never even crossed her mind. As far as she was concerned, her door was always open and all were welcome who entered it. Her copper skin flushed though to take in the goliath figure in front of her that easily dwarfed her tiny frame. Even her antlers, decorated with bells and ribbon as they were didn't even come close to matching his height.

Celeste blinked and held out a hand invitingly to the droid. "Good to finally put a face to the name. I'm Celsete, but you can still call me Bumble if you want. Whatever makes you happy. Are you sure you're interested in helping? I'm afraid the honey candies are still proving to be as impossible as ever," she giggled warmly.

The midnight rail to Solarta was unsurprisingly quiet and relatively empty for a Monday night. It left Blu with plenty of time to sit and face her inner demons without interruption or reprieve. No one knew she was going home either. Well, that wasn’t entirely true. Amristah Inquiry were aware of her intended two-day excursion home and more than likely had already informed Solarta Inquiry of her coming. It was just another stipulation of her punishment and another impingement upon her former freedoms. It was her own fault though and she willingly paid the price.

The Valkyries didn’t know of her coming though and she had every intention of keeping it that way. She’d hurt Yavul enough with her secrecy. He didn’t need her in his life now like nothing had happened and they were still the best of friends. And sweet, precious Mia, who welcomed her eagerly and could find no fault with Blu was not what Blu needed right then. She couldn’t even say for certain what it was that she needed these days, but she hoped she could find a taste of it in home.

Home.

The irony did not escape her that after nearly two decades of denying and ridiculing every part of her that had to do with being a greyneck Solartan, she would run home when her world fell out and she’d hit rock bottom. When the going got tough and she no longer recognised who she was anymore, she’d run just like she always did. It was about time she returned here though. It was time to face those poor, starved, withered roots of her past to maybe find that spark that once burned oh so brightly long ago.

Blu chewed on her bottom lip, pulling at the dried skin there with her teeth and feeling it tear until copper bloomed bitterly on her tongue. Sam was inquiry; did he know she was coming? Did her name fill him with hatred and disgust as strong and potent as his name filled her with grief and guilt? Did he even care?

She still remembered the look on his face as his heart hit the floor. Had she even known then how in over her head she was? Probably. She likely was just content to fester and ignore it until it finally popped like any other vile abscess. The shock of his emotions as he had commanded her to do the right thing had nearly brought her to her knees though. Even just in reminiscence, Blu still felt it as forcefully now as she had when he had been standing just out of reach of her.

She needed to stop thinking about him. She needed to let him go. He’d never been hers to hold anyway. She needed to let go.

Blu shook her head sharply and ruffled her hair in agitation. The rail pulled into the station and she disembarked in long, sweeping strides. Her head was low, her hood pulled up high to hide her recognisable features. The prodigal daughter was returning home.

She didn’t even know what to expect when she did finally roll up to her old homestead. She felt so out of place here now with her expensive leather backpack and her boots all polished and shined without a trace of mud.

The house was dark but she could hear the television from the front step and already imagined her father passed out in front of it surrounded by a wasteland of empty beer cans. Her mother likely had already taken herself to bed in a fog of cigarette smoke and bitterness. For several minutes Blu just stood there poised to take the first step but unable to move herself.

It wasn’t that long ago that she had visited home, but she had never taken the chance to actually take it in. Petite,Gods Both bless her little soul, had just been born and lost sending Blu scurrying home in a flurry to Yavul and her maman. It was different then though. She hadn’t lingered, hadn’t tried to take it in, hadn’t tried to acknowledge what being home meant, hadn’t wanted to face that this was where everything began for her.

She did now.

Heavy boots hopped up the old, sagging steps, avoiding that one board that creaked and that other one that always bowed like it was ready to give way at any second. The lock still responded to her chip, letting her in without trouble as Blu exhaled in tense relief. After all these years she didn’t know what to expect anymore. But, sure enough Shinoba Moon was snoring away in his chair, same as always. Some things never did change.

She crept by the living room taking the stairs two at a time before tiptoeing down the carpeted hallway. It was too dark to see and yet she still knew each step to her old room by heart. Slipping inside and closing the door behind her revealed a nearly untouched time capsule of her life at fourteen. Gin Moon had left her daughter’s possessions exactly as Blu had left them. The bed quilt, tattered and worn, was still as soft with age as she remembered it. Her hand smoothed over the faded fabric as she quietly dumped her bag onto the bed and took stock of the room.

Georgia Jacks posters and The Fuzz tour announcements still littered her walls, the glossy paper crinkling and curling at the corners where she had smoothed them back against the wall a thousand times over. They clashed with the rustic ladylikeness of her white vanity where hair brushes and bottles of perfume were all carefully lined up just so. She remembered loving those funky-shaped bottles that cost far more than her father was ever willing to pay. Blu had watered those few precious perfumes down as much as she possibly could to make them last as long as possible until there was nothing but water in them and the memory of the scent they once held.

There were the pictures in their fancy frames showing stills of her young life too. Some of the pictures she recognised from her own home today. There were the twins swinging her tiny body between them. That one there was of the time they all got to mud-wrestling and came home caked in so much muck that Maman had refused to let them in the house.

But, there were others too that she didn’t have. She traced her fingers gently over the shape of a young Gin holding her newborn daughter in a rocking chair. Next to it was one of tiny Yavul smiling broadly, his front teeth missing as Blu did a cartwheel behind him.

Had it really been that long since she was that small, since she was looking as happy as she did in the photo of her winning first prize in the junior little ladies dirt-biking? She’d wiped out bad on one of those turns, she remembered. Maman made her stop not long after when she’d broken both her arms in a jump gone wrong. Blu was certain she hadn’t been back on a bike since then.

Her old boots caked in mud still stood in the closet beneath a familiar, robust clothing bag. She didn’t need to unzip it to see the layers upon layers of pure white tulle and lace to know that was her wedding dress.

‘Ain’t quite so pretty n’ pure no more are ya Blu girl?’

She turned from the closet and after a moment’s pause, knelt down to reach under the bed. Her hand collided with the dusty edge of a box that she gleefully dragged out. Here were the treasures of her youth. One by one she reverently plucked them out of the box and examined them before placing them on the bedspread. Two sparkly butterfly clips with fake crystals that were “blue to match your eyes” as her brothers had said when they had slipped them into her long braid on her tenth birthday. One of them was missing an antenna now and the other had had lost a few of its crystals. There had once been a time when she wore those clips every single day until they had become too special to not keep in a box.

A handful of rocks all with veins of fool’s gold in them were next. Blu remembered digging them up with Yavul out by the animal troughs. They must have been six or seven at the time and had spent the day screaming about being cool and famous just like Georgia Jacks. The pair of them would defeat the bad guys, get their respective man, and ride off into the sunset like the miniature badasses they thought they were. Those were the days, weren’t they?

Buried further down were the several times folded over and over love notes between her and Coy. For a moment she reflected fondly on those days of sneaking trinkets and notes to each other under rocks and in secret hidey holes for each other to find. It had been a child’s romance. It should have stayed that way. That was likely her fault too. She never was one for realising until far too late just how in over her head she was. Was there ever a time when she didn’t tear everyone down with her as she swept by on a path of self-destruction?

Coy may have been the “monster” who had tried to cage her but she was the liar, the cheater, and the thief. Blu couldn’t blame him for everything when she was the one spending her days at the ATC or in the free seconds of the night on the frontlines with someone new curled up in her sheets that wasn’t him. She had thought then if things ended differently then she would have been happy forever with Darry. But, after being “happy” with Plague and still cheating on him with other men, she couldn’t help but wonder if she eventually would have cheated on her beloved Hyakinthos as well.

That’s what she did after all, wasn’t it? Instead of facing the things that made her miserable, she found ways to sabotage the good things she had and run. Plague was a good man. He loved her, cherished her, pampered, and cared for her, bending practically in half for her. What had she ever done for him? She had screamed, picked fights, took every opportunity given to push him away and still he had stood strong at her side. She had caged him to her side, had lost their child, had failed in every way possible as a boss, a lover, and a friend. He deserved so much better and more. He deserved a partner that would welcome being his deity rather than want to tear down all the walls around him and leave him half a man.

And Sam...Samson Apollinaire was just another victim caught in the cogs of her mad puppet show, wasn’t he? Blu, crammed her trinkets back into the old shoebox as she struggled to not think of how physically close and yet how far she was right in that moment to him. She had absolutely obliterated him. She had been the reason for the ding in his career record. She had used him as both a physical and emotional release without acknowledgment or seemingly any care for the consequences of being such a burden. She had held his precious, sweet, tender beating heart in her hands and had just as easily squashed it until it was unrecognisable before carelessly tossing it into the mud as if he had meant nothing to her.

But, that wasn’t the truth either, now was it?

Blu closed the lid on her box and slid it back under the bed before changing into a nightgown from her bag and crawling under the covers.

No, it wasn’t the truth.

She loved Coy, even now although she was not in love with him, she still cared about him.

She deeply loved Darry. If he were alive today, she’d marry him in a heartbeat. Although if Blu were honest with herself, she wasn’t sure he’d want her now knowing what a harpy she had become.

She loved Plague and regretted not being good enough for him because of her own selfish bitterness and fear.

As for Sam, well if she didn’t love him, then she didn’t know what to call what she felt for him. It absolutely hurt deep in her bones knowing what she had done to all of them.

Fresh, hot tears raced down her stained cheeks. Blu had thought she had already cried away the last of the tears in her but surrounded by the familiar scent of fresh rose linen, tobacco musk, and stale beer, she could not help but feel small and vulnerable again. She pulled the covers up under her chin as she stared up at her ceiling. The window was open making the wooden magpie on her ceiling “fly” in figure eights around and around. On and on it went with no end and no direction. Just like her.

She didn’t remember falling asleep but she certainly awoke with a start to the covers being ripped off her and a solid swat to the rear. “Gittup, time for prayers n’ chores.”

“Fuck all, Ma! What time is it?”

“Pardon me? I sure as sin ain’t just heard ya using foul language in my house young lady! Now ya git on up and git moving ‘fore I get your daddy’s belt. Ya hear me? Animals need fed n’ brekkie needs makin’. Now move it!”

Blu groaned, rolling into a sitting position as she squinted towards the open window. It was still pitch dark out. Moving was mechanical, born out of near-forgotten routine. She jammed her feet into her old boots, smiling ever so slightly to see they still fit before scooping a jacket on and trudging down the steps and back outside. The work was mindless if a bit more of a struggle than she remembered it being. She was out of practice but the presence of the old family farm dog was a welcome sight. Blu spent a few extra minutes giving Rusty some well-deserved ear scratches before dragging herself back inside to face her family.

The younger woman didn’t even have a chance to open her mouth before her mother, so frail and pallid looking came flying around the corner. “You’re takin’ your sweet time, now aren’t ya Maggie? Waitin’ for th’ sun t’ come on up n’ invite ya to prayers now? Hurry up n’ wash! N’ get them filthy boots off. Where did ya even find ‘em I was sure I burned those?!”

Blu couldn’t get a word in edgewise as her mother with a grip far stronger than she ever could have expected, latched onto her wrist and dragged her to a sink to toss a washcloth at her. In a daze, Blu shimmied out of her boots before washing her hands and face. There was a barked “feet too!” that she was quick to comply with before she was dragged off to the old mudroom to the east side of the house. Her eyes widened to see not only her mother’s prayer mat but her old one as well. She made to protest, only managing to get out one “Ma” before Gin hissed at her and placed a finger to her own pale lips.

The older matron moved to her mat and began her prayers, bending and kneeling with an ease that belied her old age. While Blu followed in the motions, her own body creaking and popping as it was forced to wake up before she was ready, her mind could not have been more empty.

When even was the last time she had prayed? There was the time Yavul had nearly been buried alive and she had knelt in the mud and begged. The time before that had more been screaming than praying for the gods to not take her baby from her. They had not saw fit to listen.

Her lips pursed in irritation as she bowed once more and pressed her forehead to the corded rug. It must have been Edanith then. She had lost much of her devoutness in ATC, favouring sleeping in and sleeping around over prayers. But, truth be told, Darrin’s death was likely the last time she’d prostrated herself before the gods and cursed them for their useless, foul sense of humour, for daring to allow the deaths of so many, for stealing away everything she ever loved. She had hardened her heart to them after that and had never looked back.

She knelt there for several extra moments longer even after her mother had quietly finished and rolled up her mat to make breakfast. Blu stayed and stared unseeing at the light creeping through the window. Her mind though was so far away. Sam probably thought that the gods were not to blame in the end for what had happened between them; she was a monster of her own making. The Pilot was inclined to agree. As much as she hated everything to do with Solarta, she could no longer remember anymore why it was worse to be a bumpkin than to be the vile woman she had become instead.

Her body creaked and swayed as she got back to her feet and trudged back into the kitchen where food was nearly ready. “Ya gonna tell me now why you’re here girl? What tragedy befell ya now that suddenly ya remember we exist here? Get inta a fight with your husband agin?” her mother asked while plopping down a cup of black coffee and a plate of scrambled eggs. The eggs looked like they were swimming in oil with how wet and runny they were. A tentative poke of her fork revealed that was not the case though, they were severely undercooked. Blu pursed her lips and went for the coffee instead. Bitter sludge burned her tongue leaving behind not only a foul taste but several floating grounds as well. Gin really was getting up there in age now it seemed, a thought that made Blu clench her jaw and make a mental note to handle later.

“Mama I ain’t been married to Coy in o’er a decade,” she sighed, unable to keep up the act today of all days that everything was fine. “I-”

“About time ya finally admitted it!”

Blu froze and looked at her mother in unsure silence. She was trying to gauge just how far gone her mother’s mind was now. Gin had never quite been the same after the war killed both her sons, but Blu had been under the impression the woman was still in denial. Had that finally changed?

“You knew?” she asked softly.

“Maggie, I’m old, not blind. I seen Coy Shiner with his pretty wife and his line a’ chilluns marchin’ up n’ down th’ path like they own th’ place. None a’ ‘em got your eyes though Blubaby. Ya got Moon eyes, ain’t nobody got bluer ones.

“Now tell me, Mags, why ya skulkin’ inta my house in th’ middle a’ th’ night like a thief when ya ain’t never wanna be here? Ya lose another babe ya ain’t even told us ya carryin’ in th’ first place?”

Blu inhaled sharply, her nostrils flaring in quiet rage at her mother’s stinging barb. She deserved that too she supposed. There really was no end to the damage she had caused her so-called loved ones. “Je suis perdu, Maman. I don’t know who I am anymore. I’ve gone and done so many wrong things that I don’t know how to do right no more.”

“Hogwash! Cut ya hair, wash yer face, fix yer makeup girl but don’t ya dare sit there and feel sorry for yourself! Whataya gone n’ done now, Maggie? You sleepin’ with a married man? Gods Both tell me I ain’t raised ya t’ be a hussy!”

“No, Ma I ain’t sleep with much of nobody no more. I cheated on the man I was sleeping with, with another man. They both are good men and I broke them so bad, Mama. I liked ‘em both and I did ‘em wrong so good.”

“That’s it?” Gin rolled her eyes and lit another cigarette. “Finish your breakfast and lemme tell ya somethin’,” she ordered before taking a long few draws of the shaking and slightly bent tobacco stick. Blu obeyed silently, forking a messy bite of eggs into her mouth only to wince at the telltale crunch of eggshell. Mama used to be such a good cook too.

“I ain’t gonna have this, Maggie! I raised ya better’n this! You made this mess, ya damn well fix it! Ya hear me? You right them wrongs. You make your apologies. You get back in th’ saddle and ya go back t’ war all th’ stronger. You’ve spent too much time fightin’ them Edani bastards that you’ve forgotten who ya are! I won’t have it! You never used t’ fight me on prayers. You ain’t never crawled around on ya belly like a snake and now this is th’ second time ya gone done crawlin’ on home faster’n a dog in heat! Don’t ya dare let them bastards win, Maggie. Not my Blu! I won’t have it! They tryin’a take our land and now my babies too? You n’ your brothers ain’t never come ‘round no more, ain’t pay me any mind ‘less you want somethin’. I know yous at war but I’m still your Mama! If ya have time t’ play th’ horizontal rodeo with a herd a’ bulls ya have time t’ come see me n’ your poor father! I know y’all are fighting a war Maggie but I think ya forgot th’ reason ya even fightin’ anymo’e. We’ll beat them Edani bastards, I know it! But, ya gotta keep ya head above ward-er baby girl. We’re all countin’ on ya. Don’t ya never forget that! Ya hurt th’ people that matter most, ya ain’t got nothin’ left t’ fight for. Quit runnin’ Blu, that ain’t th’ Moon way.”

Blu clapped a hand over her mouth as her mother lectured her with all the fierce tough love of a Solartan maman. It was as if something inside had finally snapped as a keening sound tore its way up from her throat. Her mother might be senile and in denial, she might think the war was still raging on to this day and that her boys were coming home any day now, but she was dead to straights right about one thing. It was time to try again. It was time to remember who she was, who she used to be, and become the woman her mama would be proud of. It was good and well to face the consequences of her actions with her head held high but it was long overdue time to make the necessary changes to prevent the repeated course of those same actions that led to such painful pitfalls.

The Pilot bit into the side of her finger as she rocked and tried to force the burning in her eyes to lessen. Moons weathered storms and always came out on their feet. They didn’t cry over bumps and bruises. They brushed them off and got back up again. It was stupid for her to cry and she knew it. Sudden arms wrapped about her head and shoulders though pressing her against a warm bosom and clung to her tightly, forcing her to stay put and not run.

“I’m disappointed in ya plenty,” Gin whispered into her daughter’s hair hoarsely. “But I ain’t love ya nonetheless babygirl. Don’t ya forget it. I ain’t never gonna stop lovin’ ya. Do me proud, Mags. Do me proud.”

A cracking sob escaped Blu as she clung back to her mother tightly. “Je t'aime, Maman. Je t’aime,” she cried as her mother combed soothing fingers through her hair and let her cry it out. Only when the younger woman seemed calmer did she order her off to clean herself up.

“How long ya stayin’ for?”

“I leave tomorrow night.”

“Oh good, then when you’re good and done with this mess ya can gittup on that barn roof and fix th’ leak for me. Run along now n’ for Gods Both sakes, Maggie put some damn makeup on ‘fore ya scare chickens right outta th’ coup!”

Blu gulped down the slurry that dared try to qualify as coffee before taking herself up to the family bathroom. The mirror was still crooked there and the sink chipped but it was as clean and spotless as always. Mama ran a tight house and she wouldn’t hear any complaints about it being kept otherwise. But, the Pilot didn’t have eyes much for the decor. Instead she braced herself and looked into the mirror.

For the first time in a long time she gave herself a true, thorough look. Those famous Moon eyes of hers were still as deep blue as ever but were bloodshot, red, puffy, and sunken in deep with dark, dark circles under them. Her hair hung scattered and limp about her thin face and even to her, her cheekbones looked too sharp and pronounced. There was a faint sallowness to her skin that contrasted sickeningly with mulberry bursts of colour that stained her skin. She was a right mess she was.

In those eyes she saw no spark anymore. There was anger and pain. But, there was also deep-seated defeat. She looked tired, sad, and long-suffering. Gone was the girl full of toothy grins and dancing eyes. She’d been replaced by a shell of a woman who didn’t even know who she was anymore.

Blu growled and shook her head in frustration. What was she even doing here? She didn’t know who she was. She didn’t know who she was supposed to be anymore. She just knew she didn’t want to be this. She didn’t want to be everyone’s monster. She didn’t want to hear the voices of her inner demons and know they were right. She wanted an end to this. She wanted to make it all STOP.

She ran a hand through her hair as her eyes drifted over to one end of the sink. Sitting on its little stand was her father’s razor. The blade looked sharp and new; Blu was almost certain that not only had it not been used, that it wouldn’t ever be. She’d caught a glimpse of Shinoba’s scraggly beard when she had come in the night before, that spoke volumes about his current grooming habits.

Blu plucked it up, measuring its weight in her hand as she took in the stark contrast of gleaming silver against her golden skin. If she turned her wrist just so she could catch glimpses of blue veins in the fluorescent lighting. She looked at herself in the mirror again. It would be so easy to do. Just a few quick passes of the blade and it would be all over. Blu licked her cracked lips, eyes trained on the switch before her thumb flicked it on. She could do this. She would do this. One deep inhale and then her eyes slammed closed and she swiped quickly. Her exhale was slow but it started a frenzy of movements. Frantically, over and over she ran the razor over herself as if too afraid that if she stopped now she would lose her nerve.

When she did at last stop, the razor falling into the sink with a clatter so that she could look at herself, it was an entirely different woman that stared back at her. Shoulder-length locks of amethyst dusted her nightgown and shoulders now in huge clumps. The face staring back at her looked uncertain but determined. There was no going back now. Blu ran a hand over the purple peach fuzz that was now her hair. It was perhaps a harsh look but she felt it suited her current inner struggles. The razor was picked up once more to fix the small patches she had missed and then she put it back away and squared off with the face in the mirror.

“I am Blu Magnolia Moon. I was born in Solarta to Shinoba and Gin Moon. I am the sister of Koba and Worf Moon. I am the mother of Belladonna Joelle Moon. I am the former wife of Coy Shiner. I am a Pilot Royal and the Commander of the Amristah Angels.

“I am a liar, a cheater, and a disgrace. I,” she faltered slightly, a strangled laugh tickling her lips before she shook her head and continued, “I am a bumpkin bitch and I’m going to work to remember what that means again. I’m going to tighten my bootstraps and hold my head high. And maybe one day I can earn back the respect and trust others once had in me. And if I don’t, then I understand how my actions hurt those I love and I do not blame them. I’m going to do better, be better and this time will be different.”

“And you’re gonna get your tail up on that barn roof and fix it ‘fore I die a’ old age here! Quit your mirror preening and go start admirin’ your reflection in th’ tin roof! It ain’t gonna fix itself ya know!” Gin barked from the top of the stairs, a basket of laundry balanced on her hip as she rolled her eyes and shook her head at her only daughter.

“Oui, Maman!” Blu called back, laughing and feeling free for the first time in a long time.

While all of her attention was seemingly focused on the adorable morsel before her, it did not escape her notice that someone had decided to appear at her elbow and slide his broad frame into the circle.

"Fascinating," she drawled, rejoining the conversation with a knowing smile. "It means you have a very talented tongue, Captain Michaels. I'm sure you're quite the charmer to boot. The ambassadors are very lucky to have you close at hand. Tell me though, does the Captain have a first name?"

Kielen paused to sip her drink, eyes very much solely focused on the flustered Pilot before and pointedly ignoring the familiar male at her side. She easily recognised Aaron's voice and while their Sunday evening romp had been quite fun, if he wanted a round two then he would have to work for it just like everyone else. Her actions however meant she completely failed to notice the impressive number of shinies pinned to his uniform as well as last name. Instead she patiently waited in amusement as the stunning, young redhead became darker in the face than her glorious head of hair.

"It's Alice. And you're Kielen, correct? I was fortunate enough to arrive just after you and caught your name as you were checking in."

"Yes, that's right. That was very observant of you. If you keep that kind of behaviour up you'll be making Lieutenant in no time I'm sure." She raised her glass, nodding her head to the shorter woman with a warm smile. "To your bright future, may it shine as brightly as the stars."

Alice beamed and returned by lifting her own glass. "And may you remain as generous as you are beautiful."

Kielen chuckled, dipping her head in her own form of thanks. "You flatter me with your way with words. I could benefit from having someone like you helping with all the bothersome wording of reports. I always seem to struggle with the climax but I don't think I'd have that problem with your help. In fact I'm certain, I wouldn't."

__________________QUICK STATS
Name Preedox Yu’a
Alias Chuckles, Pree, Doxx
Age 3784
DOB September 13th
Gender Male
Species Starstrider Elf; House Phaeton
Ethnicity Serenian
Height 6’11”
Occupation Deep Space Pirate; Ship Engineer
Residence The Birthday Cake
Voiceclaim Sigourney Weaver


__________________IN-DEPTH STUFF

Physical Description

Preedox is tall and lanky with long, delicate facial features and well developed musculature, especially in his shoulders and arms. At first glance it is easy to mistake him as not belonging to the Starstrider race. While he does possess pointy ears, his skin is a deep, deep chocolate brown nearly blank and his hair is a very muddy brown with slightly golden highlights His piercing sunshine eyes though give away that he is neither another species nor a Horizon but of House Phaeton.

His long hair when loose is straight and reaches to just past his waist. Most people would not realise the extent of its length though as he traditionally keeps it wrapped in a messy and haphazard bun. His perpetual scowl is also made more severe seeming due to a small but bright scar that runs parallel to his nose and through his upper lip on the left side. Preedox also has one other significant scar although is not easily or usually seen. He was shot in the back of the his right upper thigh. His crewmates have been known to joke that he was actually shot in the ass especially since he occassionally has a bit of a limp although it is not usually very pronounced.

For adornments, Preedox has a bridge piercing as well as two tattoos. On the left side of his neck is a teal, glowing tattoo of a mute symbol. It is the shared tattoo of his current crew and is a representation of his intention and desire to reject having a Resonance. Additionally, on the inside of his right forearm is a watercolour tree tattoo. The rainbow ink seems to drip down and bleed from the leaves until it forms a red pool at the base of the tree around his wrist. His usual attire is a flight suit with the top tied around his waist and a dark tank top underneath with heavy boots. Pree isn’t big on jewellery but he does have a black watch that he wears on his right hand. He also keeps a gun strapped to his right thigh when off the ship.

Personality

He is a taciturn, sarcastic, biting, and downright abrasive man at the best of times. Preedox thinks most people are idiots and has little time or trust for anyone, even those that have known him the longest. He isn’t one to let people get in and close to him and seems to have no sense of humour with the way he grunts or scowls in response to others.

Preedox was once a gentle and giving soul but years of disappointments have hardened his heart. He is by no means altruistic anymore and what he does for others is of a motive all of his own. It is easy to mistake this cold-nature for that of an asshole. And in fact he would gladly welcome such beliefs if it meant being left alone.

He is however, rather shy and has an air of sadness about him. But, that being said if pushed enough, he will most certainly snap. There are a lot of things that make Preedox angry but he is traditionally good about ignoring them unless they directly affect his person. Identify him as anything other than a Starstrider or as being from House Horizon and he will be furious. Invade his personal space enough to corner him and he will viciously lash out.

He is seemingly unpredictable, very analytical and critical of others, but also a great problem-solver. If you are willing to gamble the risk of having him around, he has the potential to be the perfect card in your deck to get you out of a sticky situation. He’s great at improvising on the spot but terrible at coming to a long-term decision quickly.

Things

• Secretly collects small old-fashioned children’s plastic dinosaurs and other extinct beasties.
• Room is filled with hanging plants especially huge philodendron but does have ferns and spider plants as well. Most pride plant is a dark purple set of violets that he’s had since he lived on Earth.
• Has a small lockbox under his bed covered in dust and filled with old pictures and papers.
• Has a habit of reaching out or keeping a hand on an inside wall of the ship regardless of where he is in the ship.
• VERY heavy sleeper and not easily woken up unless something is wrong with the ship he’s on. Then he tends to just “know.”
• Listens to a lot of “New Age” music.
• Enjoys “girly” drinks. If it’s pink and fruity he’ll probably be all about that.

Magic/Abilities

A damn fine engineer: knows his way in, out, and around most ships in an almost uncanny sort of way. Is very intune with their innerworks and just tends to know things. Can’t really explain why a thing must be the way it is and gets very hostile when questioned. Just trust him damn it!

Fair fighter: he’s a fair enough shot with a gun and can handle himself in hand-to-hand combat for a short while if he has an ability to get away. Preedox does best with stealth fighting though and sneaking up behind someone. His talents lie more in the unknown attack rather than the brute force one.

Relationships

Resonance: The song has been out in the universe very quietly for a while now and Preedox has absolutely NO intention of ever following that pull. EVER. He is afraid of the day though when the universe has enough with his running and forces him to face it head on.

History

Pree is old. He’s old enough to remember a time when the Earth was still green but, had already begun to die. He’s old enough to have seen species go extinct and the world become entranced and captivated by technology, space exploration, and mass production.

When he was a younger man, full of vigour and fire, he was an activist. Marches, riots, rallies, fundraisers, he was always in the thick of it. Save the Earth, save the animals, down with using finite resources, down militaristic control; you name it, he was likely there protesting it. It did not matter to him if he was the only one or one of hundreds or thousands, he would fight for what he believed in.

Preedox once truly believed that while he couldn’t hear his resonance yet that just meant he had time to make a habitable world for them both to love and raise children together. He was willing to fight to make it just right and he took solace and pride in that while patiently waiting. Repeated failures and disappointments though served as “proof” that people are NOT as good as he once thought. What was the use of hope when it was just drowned in neon poison.

He remembers a world that divided itself out of greed, raging and warring with each other as they went. He was one of many that took to the stars in the end. Preedox didn’t stay put on the newly made Libra station for long though. He felt being trapped in a stationary hunk of metal too caging and instead began jumping from ship to ship, taking up odd jobs. Eventually, he found an uncanny affinity for mechanical engineering. He’s now since joined a pirate crew of Starstriders and serves as their ship mechanic for the past few centuries.

The day he abandoned Earth though, will forever remain the day he abandoned all hope.

__________________THREAD TRACKER
Current Threads


Complete Threads

Timeline

She listened intently as he spoke, drinking in every word as her eyes never once left his face. Every syllable he spoke was committed to memory, processed, and categorised for future planning purposes. Memory alteration might have been her "superpower" but memory retention was her gift. They say the devil is in the details and if there was anyone who could not only process large amounts of information in their head all at once and shred it down to barebones, it was Jain Dau.

Only when Orphen was done speaking did she finally blink and bob her head, although whether it was in acknowledgement to him or whatever thought had been running through her head, remained to be seen. "Then that's how we proceed. I do best with digital visuals prior to extraction. Once in the field though all bets are off."

'And this is why I work best alone.'

"I can deal with a plan in place but human variables although creatures of habit tend to be too chaotic to ensure that a plan will run perfectly from beginning to end even with the contingency plans in place. Up until this point my work has predominantly relied on solo infiltration, collection, and extraction. I'm not very memorable and easily overlooked making me perfect for missions such as these..." she trailed off eyeing him up and down again but keeping her thoughts locked tight and to herself.

'...which begs the question of why the hell you're here.'