ten_fwd | (no subject)

It's been a little time since Stahma arrived in this place, on board this ship: enough time for her to acquaint herself with the fact that nothing she can do will allow her to return home. The realization is not exactly a pleasant one. Her son has just gotten married to a young woman Stahma is quite charmed by despite herself, her husband is in the midst of a heated race for mayor of Defiance, and she may be falling in love with a woman she never imagined she'd get so close to. If anything, she worries over Kenya the most, because if anything should happen that would cause Datak to learn about their affair... Stahma doesn't even want to think about it, about what she would have to do to protect herself should that happen, even though it's something she has to consider. That possibility has been a part of her calculation from the beginning.

So much is happening around her, she's learning so much about herself that she never knew, so many possibilities are only now coming within her grasp that would never have been available to her as a woman back on Casti all those years (millennia) ago, and to have that taken away in an instant — needless to say, it's jarring to her. But Stahma is accomplished at wearing masks, not giving away what she's thinking or feeling when she needs to conceal it; and, furthermore, she's genuinely curious about this world, these people. Many are human, but not the humans she's used to; the Earth here is not the Earth she knows. Alternate worlds are only theory, where she's from; scientists bandy the idea about, but no one's ever taken it seriously. Certainly it's not something Stahma herself ever thought about before; it never took her interest. But now that she's had the theory proven to her fairly obviously, she's curious to see what the differences are between the people of this world and her own — not to mention all of the others who have come here like she did, brought here from their own places and times. It's a pleasant enough distraction, for the time being.

In that spirit, she's sitting at a table in Ten Forward, near one of the windows, alternating between watching warp-attenuated stars streak by and observing people as they come and go from the lounge. She's rather conspicuously by herself, but if she feels vulnerable it certainly doesn't show. She has a cup of tea between her hands; one of the first things she did, after the initial shock of being here wore off, was learn how to use the replicator. It won't make anything Castithan, which is a shame, but there are a few human teas that are... acceptable, at least for now. The steam from her cup gives off a slight fragrance of mint and citrus.

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

To say the girl at the table next to her is... rather unconventional is a bit of an understatement. There's the way she's sitting in the chair, which Stahma isn't entirely sure actually counts as sitting; there's the metal covering her hands and arms, which makes Stahma wonder just how she does anything with them; and then there's the blue hair. It isn't as if Stahma has never seen someone with dyed hair before; her own son streaks his hair with color, like many young Castithans who grew up around humans. She's not certain she approves (she knows her husband certainly doesn't), but she has thus far refrained from saying anything. On this girl, though, the color seems suitable, and Stahma has to stop herself from staring.

Instead, she meets Noriko's eyes at the question, and smiles, a perfectly pleasant smile. "Lemon and mint," she answers. Her gaze lowers briefly to her cup, and she turns it between her hands. "I've been told it is good for stress relief."

That may be a little bit of an admission, but it is a harmless one. Anyone would find suddenly arriving in this place more than a little overwhelming. Stahma is not exactly giving away very much by saying so.

"It's okay, you know," she says nonchalantly, with a little smile. "You can look at the hair if it's new to you. Kind of half the point of dyeing it that."

Noriko is not a shy person under any definition of the word. "Mint usually is--dunno about lemon, I've never tried that combination," she says, looking over. "You could probably do okay with a distraction, though. If you're stressed." She lifts the ball she's playing with in one hand, with a rattle as the bearing inside falls off the track and rests at the base of the sphere.

"Want to try?"

There's a pause, and then Stahma laughs, very softly. "I suppose you're right." She seems to consider a moment before adding, with another of those smiles, "It suits you. I think it's lovely."

It's hardly as if Stahma is shy, either, though for the sake of not drawing too much attention to herself, she's practiced at putting up a modest facade. She sips her tea, carefully, taking note of the flavor. Something to try again, perhaps.

"Stressed may be the wrong word. I've only recently arrived. It is... a little overwhelming," she clarifies. "I have not been in space in a very long time." And the Arks were nothing like this.

The soft rattle of the ball in Noriko's hand draws Stahma's attention to it. She isn't much for games or toys like that... although now that she looks more closely, she's not even quite sure she knows what it is.

"What is it?" she asks, sounding unsure but curious.

"I haven't been in space ever, so you're one up on me," Noriko says with a soft huff of a laugh.

"It's a puzzle ball. Your objective is to get this little metal bead through all of the track in one go, by manipulating the way the ball tilts. Drop the bead, you have to start over. It's good for forgetting we're all trapped in a spaceship." Hey, she did not call it a tin can this time, this is progress. Though, as Noriko sits up and swings her legs down, she seems the least likely person to be stressed on this boat. (That is an opinion that will likely change if Stahma ever sees her acting as an X-man.)

"And you seem like you could use the escape."

And Stahma has to wonder how Noriko can seem so relaxed, among strangers on a foreign ship with no means of returning to her home — wherever that home might be. Stahma herself has settled with the fact that she is stuck here for the time being, but it wasn't so easy for her to take that in stride.

"I suppose it can't hurt to try," she allows, putting down her tea and reaching out, perhaps a little gingerly, to take the ball from the younger woman. Their eyes meet for a moment, across the short distance, and then Stahma smiles.

"I'm sorry, I don't believe I got your name."