if you build it, they will come. hopefully.

[abyssum_invocat]

So. Replicators.

They take some getting used to for a child who's never come across technology even remotely similar before, but after a few wrong turns and a bit of confusion over how what it spat out at her was supposed to be decent clothing Sinthia got the hang of it. Enough, anyway, to order food and drink, and a modest bunch of parts to make something.

A something which, if the instructions are anything to go by--thankfully they're pictograms as well as words, in case the passersby like the mun don't read German--will be a quite pretty little mechanical tellurion.

She's totally interruptable while building this, yes. Periodically she needs breaks.

Comments

[decideformyself]

It's a good thing she's interruptible, because as Philip walks by looking for a place to sit, he is intrigued by what he sees.

He steps unnervingly close to Sinthia's table, crouching down to take a closer look at the thing she is working on.

[abyssum_invocat]

She's working hard at this being sociable thing, really. She's still afraid of being out in this room with no hiding places and nothing substantial enough to move so she could make one. And it's that impulse that makes her tense, little muscles tight and bunching when someone walks by her into her field of vision, narrowed as it is to the project in front of her.

It's simple in and of itself; it's a little model, a crank-and-gear representation of the moon orbiting the earth, orbiting the sun. There's a little needle that moves around the central bar too, pointing to a date printed on the outer rim--sorry, that too is in neatly written German, as is the rest of the instruction book. It's not done yet, not even really close, but as she sorts the pieces out she looks over at Philip, silent.

And raises her brows.

[decideformyself]

He does at least know a bit of German -- he's not fluent, but the occasional lookup has given him a little knowledge. So he's able to recognize a few words, some basic grammar, and that there's a date printed on the device.

"Intriguing," he says, leaning in to take a closer look. "This model is not to scale, of course. But the mechanical work is quite skillful."

[abyssum_invocat]

She's hold onto a gear while he leans in, and Sinthia eyes him warily for a moment until he speaks. It comes as a relief in a ship full of people, where she's spoken to maybe five of them, that another unknown person seems to have no interest in harming her. It's the only solid objective she can really assign at this stage in her life; liked or not liked don't factor into how she relates to the world around her.

"...Thank you."

[decideformyself]

He doesn't react to her thanks. He's more interested in the tellurion itself. Paying no heed to common sense or personal space, he reaches out to pick it up.

[abyssum_invocat]

"No," she says, forcefully enough to have the smaller objects rattle on her table, reaching out and taking the semi-assembled toy back.

"It's not done, don't touch it. And it's mine," she says, eyeing Phillip.

[decideformyself]

His face falls, but he crosses his arms and takes a step back without objection. If it's not done, that's a good reason to leave it be for now.

"Are you interested in astronomy?"

[writes_with_digital_ink]

"Oh that's a cool device," Gaila says, pausing in her journey towards a table near the windows. She's dressed in perfectly ordinary clothes - a dark gold tunic over some wide khaki pants, a black armband around her left arm for mourning - and is carrying a perfectly normal cup of coffee.

But, well.

Green.

[abyssum_invocat]

"Thank you," she murmurs, looking up and promptly stilling. The alien lady is green. Honestly green, as Sinthia discovers after blinking at her. And she's wearing...something interesting that Sinthia has never seen before. (Given the child is wearing a black jumper-dress and a grey shirt with black shoes, you'd be entirely correct in thinking color is not an overly familiar thing with her. Everything around her is black, grey, or red. And few things are red.)

"...Is it paint?"

[writes_with_digital_ink]

Gaila blinks at her, honestly confused for a moment. Then she takes in the child's clothing style a little more, and all the other 'guests' on this ship, and her expression turns rueful.

"My skin? No. I'm a different species to you."

[abyssum_invocat]

"You look awfully like me," she says slowly. "Except for being green." Which is strange to Sinthia, though in a way she can't really place. But she's trying to be good and not read thoughts, so the long conversation is her only option.

"If you want to sit down, you can. It's not done yet but I can show you how it works."

[writes_with_digital_ink]

"I do, don't I? But a lot of species are like that, it's not until you get us under a medical scanner that we all start to look different."

She smiles.

"I'd really like it if you did," she says, taking a seat and peering at the device.

[abyssum_invocat]

"It's a tellurion," she says, still eyeing Gaila, though this time it's for her clothes rather than her green-ness. "It's a model that tells you the date and position of the earth and moon around the sun. It's not accurately paced, but it will give you an idea."

She wants to keep a diary. With earth dates so she knows how long she's been here. Stardates...she isn't really sure she can handle a long time of using them.

"Why are you wearing those clothes?"

[bestpal]

Bucky appears and hovers behind her for a minute while she works. He recognises the German and quickly susses the device out.

'Will that work here?" he asks with a frown of concentration.

'kay so I legit just squee'd at my computer thank you.

[abyssum_invocat]

Bucky also casts a shadow on her work, and she tilts her head straight back to look up at him.

"It's mechanical," she says in answer, brows lifted. "You crank it by hand." But since she's almost done she slots the little moon wire into place to demonstrate it. "See?"

^^ squeeing at the computer is the best

[bestpal]

"Primitive but effective," Bucky concedes. It is easy to lose sense of the time they've been away from earth. "You are from Germany?" It is easier to pinpoint the country of origin than it is pin point the year. Years are funny for Bucky, he's technically over eighty years old but he;s only seen key years of the past century.

[abyssum_invocat]

"Yes," she murmurs. "I was born in Berlin, but I live in Austria," she repeats dutifully. "It's 1944 for me."

Somewhere in her world right about the same time she disappeared, there was a train on its way to delivering a doctor, and a soldier lost his life. Whether or not he died is another matter, but the life he would have had if not for her father's continued existence is most certainly a casualty of war. But Sinthia doesn't know about that yet.

[bestpal]

Bucky knows better than to burst a dame's bubble. For all he knows, she wants Germany to win the war. "I was in Germany in 1944." He takes a seat beside her without invitation. There is a frown of concentration on his face He's got a lot to remember about that time period.

"I guess it was a beautiful country."

[abyssum_invocat]

"Were you in the same war with Steve?" she asks, as if this is something she's used to discussing--there's the slightest tremor on the man's name, but she doesn't falter.

"I thought it was. But I only saw a little of it."

[scarred_grin]

Hey look, it's a monkey.

Capuchin monkey in a tailcoat, to be precise.

He even reads German. Don't mind him, he's just picking up and inspecting a gear; he's not going anywhere with it.

Curious monkey is curious.

[abyssum_invocat]

"No," Sinthia huffs, reaching across the table to get her gear back--nevermind that there are others he could just as easily pick up. "Bad monkey," she says, as forcefully polite as an eight-year-old can manage.

"This is not a toy for you."

Honestly. Monkeys on a spaceship.

[scarred_grin]

He straightens up and grips his lapels like an offended little old-time banker. A monkey banker. They probably store fruit in their vault, but the vault's made of bamboo so the other monkeys just reach right through and take the coconuts.

Is that stereotyping?

"I was trying," he says, with the incongruous voice of Richard Burton, "to determine what sort of wood it is."

[abyssum_invocat]

Her eyes get very, very wide. Very quickly.

"It's birchwood," she replies slowly.

[scarred_grin]

"An excellent wood," he says. "Very strong, very light."

He approves of it for this purpose, not that anyone particularly needs the approval of a monkey for their crafting projects.

There really aren't birch trees where this monkey is from, anyway. Loki's another story.

[abyssum_invocat]

"...How can you talk?" she asks, finally, looking sideways away from the monkey as if she expects someone to come out with the joking--because this has to be a joke--explanation.

"You're a monkey."