Of Gifts and Ghost Ships: Scott x Sabine
Jul. 5th, 2016 07:33 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
rememoryThe evening of the day the Ghost Ship arrives, Sabine has a gift for Scott. Somewhat later, after they've gone to bed, Sabine awakens from a nightmare that isn't a nightmare...
Where: Sabine's quarters (shared with Scott)
When: July 5-6
One of the best things about the Goth aesthetic, Sabine reflected, as she surveyed the pile of dirty, torn, mostly unwearable and therefore reasonably cheap cast-offs on the kitchen table, was that you could put together a dozen outfits out of a few shitty pieces of clothes. At the moment, she was wearing a short black skirt with white buttons that she'd made from a men's shirt that she'd dip-dyed in squid ink which the replicator seemed willing enough to supply, a white tank top she'd cut from a pillowcase, and a black and white stripped vest that...well, she'd spent a lot more time making that, taxing her hand-sewing skills to stitch strips of fabric together. Dyeing her hair had been day-four, and crushed berries served fine for a red lipstain.
At the moment, she was planning out several commissions that had come out of her last trip into the markets. It wasn't her best skill, but it was one people seemed inclined to pay and at the moment, her cooking habit needed the credits.
Scott, meanwhile, had been working after his own fashion; people were needed to unload ships, and while it might be mind-numbing manual labor, it paid. Plus he didn't mind being worn out by the end of a shift. Kept him from obsessing too much over their current circumstances. Hearing what Sabine had been up to today would also help with that, he told himself as he headed back.
When he arrived, the door slid open and Scott was greeted by an indignant meow and then a wild leap for the safety of his torso or shoulders.
Sabine looked up from her sorting to smirk wickedly. "Missy doesn't approve of my new sideline. Hello, caro."
"Chill, cat," he said severely, detaching her from his shoulder and tucking her into the crook of his arm, where she promptly settled. "What's got her so skittish?"
Sabine tried not to get gooey over the fact her cat loved Scott too and more or less succeeded. "The number of people in the apartment," she said and gestured to the piles of clothes, scraps, and junk on the table. "She doesn't like all the different scents. I'm going to wash them, but I have to sort them first."
"Not to worry, Missy," Scott said, stroking the cat's head gently as he came over and sat in the chair opposite Sabine's. "Your human is just being creative again."
"Making clothes for me and a couple of commissions." She smiled at the two of them and said, "Sit right there. I have something for you."
"I get a present?" Scott said, then glanced down at the cat with a deadpan look. "The day's looking up already, Missy."
"Mmm-hmm," Sabine purred as she set the gift bag -- her own creation, black and white with a silver bow -- on the table in front of him. "And Missy already knows what it is."
Intrigued, Scott placed the cat on the arm of the chair, ignoring her indignant little huff, and leaned forward to take a closer look at the bag. "Only you would find gift wrap when we're stuck on a space station in another dimension," he said lightly, but the look he gave her made it very clear that he was genuinely touched by the fact that she'd gone to the effort. He opened the bag and - carefully - lifted out the rather large object inside. "Some sort of game?" he asked thoughtfully, setting it carefully on the table so that he could get a closer look at it. It did look like a game board--well, three game boards, really, each on a different level. He glanced back inside the bag and found a small container of rather Go-like pieces. "This looks like some sort of three-dimension cross between chess, Go, and checkers," he said, fascinated.
"Yes. The seller explained the basic rules to me. It sounded like something you would like." And she would also, even though she'd sworn she wouldn't play Go again, because it reminded her too much of Shinobi. But she'd loved the game and Scott could replace those memories. "It's not lives to save, but it might keep you engaged a little while?"
He looked up at her with a smile that most people at the castle had rarely seen, ever. It was unstrained, even a little impish, and made him look at least five years younger. "This is great, Sabine. Thank you." If he'd ever doubted that she knew him...
The urge to kiss that smile was all but overwhelming, which was a new and not entirely welcome manifestation of her feelings for him. Until now, the attraction had been latent, the emotions the strongest part of it. Hopefully he wouldn't feel it along the bond. It was hard enough being not-together when the only thing keeping them apart was a desperate hope of getting home and their individual senses of honor.
Her answering smile wasn't strained, even if her mind struggled against her heart. "It's good to see you smile."
He was, thankfully, occupied in examining the gameboard. "It feels like my face is in danger of cracking," he quipped. "Maybe I'm out of practice." He looked up at her curiously. "What warranted the random gift?"
"Maybe?" she teased and pulled up a chair next to him to watch him acquaint himself with the gift. "The gift is mostly just for being you. But if you need a more specific reason, consider it a thank you for taking care of me and not running away from what's between us, even though it would be easier." There was also the part about wanting him not to brood, but telling him might jinx the effect.
Scott looked sideways at her, wondering what exactly one said to that (without saying too much). "I plan to keep on doing what I can to take care of you," he said finally. "And no running. I promise."
* * *
It was hours later when they finally agreed they couldn't possibly master the game in one night, no matter how much fun they were having trying. Fun might have seemed an odd word to anyone watching them thinking so intently and moving so infrequently, but they both enjoyed intellectual pursuits so much, and her ghosts liked the opportunity to be present and watch without anyone being uncomfortable, that fun was the right word for it.
Fortunately, or unfortunately, they didn't have the credits for her to buy luxurious or sexy nightwear, so going to bed had become a ritual. She brushed her teeth and washed her face, then came out of the bathroom to slip into a clean men's shirt that doubled as a nightgown (and not a particularly risque one, since she was so short), while he brushed his teeth and changed his shorts, and put on a t-shirt. Then it was both of them into bed, on their separate sides, and occasionally a bit of a cuddle before sleep happened. Tonight was no different, and they'd only talked about ten minutes before she'd snuggled up to her pillow (instead of Scott, like she wanted to) and fallen asleep.
Scott had fallen asleep fairly quickly; the manual work on the spacedocks was good for that, at least. But he seemed to start dreaming almost as soon as he closed his eyes. Sabine was somewhere, calling out to him, but the corridors kept winding and winding and her voice kept sounding more and more distant, even as he thought he was getting closer.
His confusion in dream seeped into her mind, infecting her dreams with a hare that was actually a hawk, which felt portentous. There were many such-creatures, not chimera but false faces, and glimmers of ideas she couldn't pin down. Her powers worked, but only half the time, and she felt shackled by past actions while she followed the soft, mournful cry of a ghost bride pining for her lost love, dodged Stryfe oddly enough in the astral plane, found a massacre and her dream shattered into slicing mirror shards of pain.
Crying out sharply, she woke already sitting up, curled around her knees and eyes streaming sooty tears from the remains of yesterday's make-up. Oh gods, it hurt.
Scott sat bolt upright at her cry, shifting without conscious thought to put his body between her and the door. "Sabine?" he asked, disoriented, as he scanned the shadowy confines of the room, trying to figure out where the threat was coming from.
"Dead," she said hoarsely and lowered her head. "So many." Every ounce of Nathan and Dani's training went into putting the pain off to a mental arm's length and not letting herself shunt the overflow off to Scott along their link.
Scott scrambled out of bed, head tilted as he listened for any screaming or explosions. Nothing, and he turned back to Sabine, frowning. "Can you tell where?" he asked. "Are we in any danger?"
Sabine closed her eyes and listened for a calm voice among the rage and denial. She found one, an androgyne who called itself Pima, and bid it answer where and what danger. Voice tight and strained, she reported, "Ship. Arethusa. Docking." She shook her head slowly. "It's confused. No weapons fire. No outsiders."
Scott didn't quite relax, but it was good to know there wasn't about to be open war in the corridors. He came over and sat back down on the bed, next to Sabine. "If it woke you, it has to be very big," he said. "Whatever it is."
Her teeth chattered with the strain of fighting the overflow and her head felt like day three of a six-day migraine--sickening and with no end in sight. "Angry frightened spirits. A sound like.... like lightning forking across a pitch black sky. Hurts. So much."
Scott reached out and took her hand, squeezing gently. "If you need to share the load, do it," he said. "Seriously, Sabine - I can take it, and you can't decide what more you want or don't want to do about this if your head feels like it's going to explode."
Sabine grimaced, pained at the thought of Scott feeling what she did, but she couldn't think. He was right about that. Closing her eyes, she sought the center of the web that she visualized as her shields, then followed the winding out and out to the edge. She found the loose thread and began unravelling it; it took a few moments, but then the dammed-up screams and lightning-pain flowed down, not a temporary link but their bond, just a little at a time until it wasn't too much to take.
Scott's hand tightened on hers and his jaw clenched, but apart from paling slightly, those were the only outward signs of what he was feeling. How the hell she's functioning, I don't know...
With the load lightened, Sabine breathed somewhat more freely. Freely enough to get a little more sense out of the spirit calling itself Pima. "They've docked now." Sighing, she raked her hands through her hair. "They're all so confused. Some of them have religious issues. I..." She glanced up at Scott. "I can't let them be alone. I can't."
Scott's very slight smile was more of a wince than anything else. "Then you won't. We can get dressed and go."
"I should warn you. The authorities really don't like it when they find me at their crime scenes..."
Where: Sabine's quarters (shared with Scott)
When: July 5-6
One of the best things about the Goth aesthetic, Sabine reflected, as she surveyed the pile of dirty, torn, mostly unwearable and therefore reasonably cheap cast-offs on the kitchen table, was that you could put together a dozen outfits out of a few shitty pieces of clothes. At the moment, she was wearing a short black skirt with white buttons that she'd made from a men's shirt that she'd dip-dyed in squid ink which the replicator seemed willing enough to supply, a white tank top she'd cut from a pillowcase, and a black and white stripped vest that...well, she'd spent a lot more time making that, taxing her hand-sewing skills to stitch strips of fabric together. Dyeing her hair had been day-four, and crushed berries served fine for a red lipstain.
At the moment, she was planning out several commissions that had come out of her last trip into the markets. It wasn't her best skill, but it was one people seemed inclined to pay and at the moment, her cooking habit needed the credits.
Scott, meanwhile, had been working after his own fashion; people were needed to unload ships, and while it might be mind-numbing manual labor, it paid. Plus he didn't mind being worn out by the end of a shift. Kept him from obsessing too much over their current circumstances. Hearing what Sabine had been up to today would also help with that, he told himself as he headed back.
When he arrived, the door slid open and Scott was greeted by an indignant meow and then a wild leap for the safety of his torso or shoulders.
Sabine looked up from her sorting to smirk wickedly. "Missy doesn't approve of my new sideline. Hello, caro."
"Chill, cat," he said severely, detaching her from his shoulder and tucking her into the crook of his arm, where she promptly settled. "What's got her so skittish?"
Sabine tried not to get gooey over the fact her cat loved Scott too and more or less succeeded. "The number of people in the apartment," she said and gestured to the piles of clothes, scraps, and junk on the table. "She doesn't like all the different scents. I'm going to wash them, but I have to sort them first."
"Not to worry, Missy," Scott said, stroking the cat's head gently as he came over and sat in the chair opposite Sabine's. "Your human is just being creative again."
"Making clothes for me and a couple of commissions." She smiled at the two of them and said, "Sit right there. I have something for you."
"I get a present?" Scott said, then glanced down at the cat with a deadpan look. "The day's looking up already, Missy."
"Mmm-hmm," Sabine purred as she set the gift bag -- her own creation, black and white with a silver bow -- on the table in front of him. "And Missy already knows what it is."
Intrigued, Scott placed the cat on the arm of the chair, ignoring her indignant little huff, and leaned forward to take a closer look at the bag. "Only you would find gift wrap when we're stuck on a space station in another dimension," he said lightly, but the look he gave her made it very clear that he was genuinely touched by the fact that she'd gone to the effort. He opened the bag and - carefully - lifted out the rather large object inside. "Some sort of game?" he asked thoughtfully, setting it carefully on the table so that he could get a closer look at it. It did look like a game board--well, three game boards, really, each on a different level. He glanced back inside the bag and found a small container of rather Go-like pieces. "This looks like some sort of three-dimension cross between chess, Go, and checkers," he said, fascinated.
"Yes. The seller explained the basic rules to me. It sounded like something you would like." And she would also, even though she'd sworn she wouldn't play Go again, because it reminded her too much of Shinobi. But she'd loved the game and Scott could replace those memories. "It's not lives to save, but it might keep you engaged a little while?"
He looked up at her with a smile that most people at the castle had rarely seen, ever. It was unstrained, even a little impish, and made him look at least five years younger. "This is great, Sabine. Thank you." If he'd ever doubted that she knew him...
The urge to kiss that smile was all but overwhelming, which was a new and not entirely welcome manifestation of her feelings for him. Until now, the attraction had been latent, the emotions the strongest part of it. Hopefully he wouldn't feel it along the bond. It was hard enough being not-together when the only thing keeping them apart was a desperate hope of getting home and their individual senses of honor.
Her answering smile wasn't strained, even if her mind struggled against her heart. "It's good to see you smile."
He was, thankfully, occupied in examining the gameboard. "It feels like my face is in danger of cracking," he quipped. "Maybe I'm out of practice." He looked up at her curiously. "What warranted the random gift?"
"Maybe?" she teased and pulled up a chair next to him to watch him acquaint himself with the gift. "The gift is mostly just for being you. But if you need a more specific reason, consider it a thank you for taking care of me and not running away from what's between us, even though it would be easier." There was also the part about wanting him not to brood, but telling him might jinx the effect.
Scott looked sideways at her, wondering what exactly one said to that (without saying too much). "I plan to keep on doing what I can to take care of you," he said finally. "And no running. I promise."
* * *
It was hours later when they finally agreed they couldn't possibly master the game in one night, no matter how much fun they were having trying. Fun might have seemed an odd word to anyone watching them thinking so intently and moving so infrequently, but they both enjoyed intellectual pursuits so much, and her ghosts liked the opportunity to be present and watch without anyone being uncomfortable, that fun was the right word for it.
Fortunately, or unfortunately, they didn't have the credits for her to buy luxurious or sexy nightwear, so going to bed had become a ritual. She brushed her teeth and washed her face, then came out of the bathroom to slip into a clean men's shirt that doubled as a nightgown (and not a particularly risque one, since she was so short), while he brushed his teeth and changed his shorts, and put on a t-shirt. Then it was both of them into bed, on their separate sides, and occasionally a bit of a cuddle before sleep happened. Tonight was no different, and they'd only talked about ten minutes before she'd snuggled up to her pillow (instead of Scott, like she wanted to) and fallen asleep.
Scott had fallen asleep fairly quickly; the manual work on the spacedocks was good for that, at least. But he seemed to start dreaming almost as soon as he closed his eyes. Sabine was somewhere, calling out to him, but the corridors kept winding and winding and her voice kept sounding more and more distant, even as he thought he was getting closer.
His confusion in dream seeped into her mind, infecting her dreams with a hare that was actually a hawk, which felt portentous. There were many such-creatures, not chimera but false faces, and glimmers of ideas she couldn't pin down. Her powers worked, but only half the time, and she felt shackled by past actions while she followed the soft, mournful cry of a ghost bride pining for her lost love, dodged Stryfe oddly enough in the astral plane, found a massacre and her dream shattered into slicing mirror shards of pain.
Crying out sharply, she woke already sitting up, curled around her knees and eyes streaming sooty tears from the remains of yesterday's make-up. Oh gods, it hurt.
Scott sat bolt upright at her cry, shifting without conscious thought to put his body between her and the door. "Sabine?" he asked, disoriented, as he scanned the shadowy confines of the room, trying to figure out where the threat was coming from.
"Dead," she said hoarsely and lowered her head. "So many." Every ounce of Nathan and Dani's training went into putting the pain off to a mental arm's length and not letting herself shunt the overflow off to Scott along their link.
Scott scrambled out of bed, head tilted as he listened for any screaming or explosions. Nothing, and he turned back to Sabine, frowning. "Can you tell where?" he asked. "Are we in any danger?"
Sabine closed her eyes and listened for a calm voice among the rage and denial. She found one, an androgyne who called itself Pima, and bid it answer where and what danger. Voice tight and strained, she reported, "Ship. Arethusa. Docking." She shook her head slowly. "It's confused. No weapons fire. No outsiders."
Scott didn't quite relax, but it was good to know there wasn't about to be open war in the corridors. He came over and sat back down on the bed, next to Sabine. "If it woke you, it has to be very big," he said. "Whatever it is."
Her teeth chattered with the strain of fighting the overflow and her head felt like day three of a six-day migraine--sickening and with no end in sight. "Angry frightened spirits. A sound like.... like lightning forking across a pitch black sky. Hurts. So much."
Scott reached out and took her hand, squeezing gently. "If you need to share the load, do it," he said. "Seriously, Sabine - I can take it, and you can't decide what more you want or don't want to do about this if your head feels like it's going to explode."
Sabine grimaced, pained at the thought of Scott feeling what she did, but she couldn't think. He was right about that. Closing her eyes, she sought the center of the web that she visualized as her shields, then followed the winding out and out to the edge. She found the loose thread and began unravelling it; it took a few moments, but then the dammed-up screams and lightning-pain flowed down, not a temporary link but their bond, just a little at a time until it wasn't too much to take.
Scott's hand tightened on hers and his jaw clenched, but apart from paling slightly, those were the only outward signs of what he was feeling. How the hell she's functioning, I don't know...
With the load lightened, Sabine breathed somewhat more freely. Freely enough to get a little more sense out of the spirit calling itself Pima. "They've docked now." Sighing, she raked her hands through her hair. "They're all so confused. Some of them have religious issues. I..." She glanced up at Scott. "I can't let them be alone. I can't."
Scott's very slight smile was more of a wince than anything else. "Then you won't. We can get dressed and go."
"I should warn you. The authorities really don't like it when they find me at their crime scenes..."
