do_your_duty: (Sitting)
Officer Aeryn Sun ([personal profile] do_your_duty) wrote in [community profile] ten_fwd2015-05-16 04:25 pm

DECK 12; THE GYMNASIUM

She's not very social.
It's not that she hasn't ever been.

She had good compatriots in her regiments on the Command Carriers. It wasn't the same on Moya. It was a small ship, but there were spaces she could not ignore nor avoid. Not remove the knowledge it was populated with only a handful of escaped criminals. (That she's just as much one of them now.)

The Enterprise is different than both. Larger than Moya, but much smaller than a Command Carrier. More than the small crew of prisoners, but crawling with civilians. On a mission of 'peace,' yet laden with weapons. But it does have some things in common with Moya.

The first. They each have a good training room.
The second. Aeryn Sun spends a lot of time there.
The third. There is only so much time you can do that.

Even if "time" is a weeken or a quarter cycle. Half a cycle. Which is why she's sitting on the floor now, looking at the empty room, every still, waiting apparatus. (The hum of the ship, beneath her, under it all, is different, too. She can tell, because the sound she's looking for, that something in her is feeling for, isn't there.)

(She knows that makes her more different than those three now, too.)
fallaces_sunt: (things are looking up)

[personal profile] fallaces_sunt 2015-05-31 01:35 pm (UTC)(link)
Her smile might be looking more than a little smirky at that.

"Sometimes our Mysterious Host does," she says, thinking of the all escapades around April Fools. Thinking mostly of the man who'd fought the most, fought like he'd been serumed, fought enough that she had to show that she wasn't normal.

"But joys of a civilian vessel."

Not that she's been solider for many (decades) years, and even then, in the heart of her country's fight for survival, there'd been long stretches of the peculiarly toxic boredom only war can bring. But there'd been a purpose. She's always had a purpose, even ones of her own making.

Here, she does not. And it's starting to bother her.
fallaces_sunt: (stop assess survive)

[personal profile] fallaces_sunt 2015-06-06 12:04 am (UTC)(link)
Natasha glances back at Aeryn, her green eyes intent and analytical.

"Used to being on military vessels?" she asks. It's a guess: pirates, raiders, could have the woman's trained focus as much as more out and out and military, but the likelihood is lesser than the alternative.
fallaces_sunt: (she judges)

[personal profile] fallaces_sunt 2015-07-01 11:33 pm (UTC)(link)
"Ah," she says. "My sympathies, then. I know how changing from something like to something completely different can be...a pain in the ass."

A little sympathy. Not too much, one professional to another.

No pity. Natasha doesn't waste time on that emotion much.

Her gaze does turn speculative, though.

"If you aren't ridiculously super-powered compared to a baseline human, interested in any sparring? Something different?"
fallaces_sunt: (all the boys think she's a spy)

[personal profile] fallaces_sunt 2015-07-04 05:39 am (UTC)(link)
"That's why I asked," she points out. "Although I will say that...I've been trained in how to fight, and I'm not talking about competitions. Since I was an adolescent."

She shrugs, and then moves again, this time to lie herself down on the ground and then lift her straight body with just her arms braced against the floor.

"But don't worry. I've got no intention of punching above my level."
fallaces_sunt: (she can disappear)

[personal profile] fallaces_sunt 2015-07-17 09:16 am (UTC)(link)
Natasha lowers her arms, keeping her body straight as it sinks down, and then pushes herself up again.

"Yep," she says. "Sometimes, just keep up the practice. But a lot of people, it's why they train. For competitions.

Not a thing for you?"