sur ● vi ● vor [s]

indie star trek ocs ☄ sideblog to invelleity ☄ low activity ☄ semi-selective / mutuals only ☄ cw for ptsd and addiction; triggers tagged

[farfromtarsus]

moving ✨

⟿ @alljvststars

[thegoodvybe]

[farfromtarsus]

empathicstars‌ :

   Aella has always been steady. Though as a child she romanticized the moving of the sea, she’d always known she was different from it. It stretched, changed, breathed, and she was always the same empty, still void. 

   Avril had never quite minded, she’d long learned. She’d always seemed bright and changeable enough for the both of them.

   Didn’t ask you for anything echoes in her head, and her memory scrolls through. Technically speaking, that is incorrect. Technically speaking, everything here, today, began from a question.

   Why can’t you admit that you can’t stand what I am? 

   You don’t like when people are upset, yeah?

   So it stands to reason, then, that you should dislike watching people be hurt. Don’t you?

   So you should dislike things that hurt people, yeah? 

   And suddenly, it is clear. Why this is happening – why any of this is happening. 

   Her hand remains against Avril, but her face hardens, infinitesimally, now. 

   “You are not winning our disagreement, Avril. I like you even so.”

   Even if you injure yourself. Even if you bleed. ( Even if her brain gently reminds her that Avril had said, When someone around you feels hurt, so do you, and perhaps is doing this specifically so that Aella will feel that pain. ) 

   She bends down to her boot, hand ever unmoving, and pulls a miniature medkit. Places it, wordlessly, on the table beside Avril.

What?

Avril sucks in a breath, then grimaces as the murk clears from her head and the present snaps back into perfect crisp definition. Her blood’s still racing in her veins and Aella’s hand is still cool on her shoulder, but the adrenaline releases its grip on her throat.

She can pay attention again, suddenly.

Her fingers loosen then drop away from Aella’s wrist. Avril hasn’t for a moment forgotten their ‘disagreement,’ —she doesn’t have Aella’s inescapable word-for-word recall, but by most standards she’s got a mind like a trap, right,— so she doesn’t need the rider to understand... She chews on it for a moment, anyhow: I like you even so.

Not a great move, Moore. A minute ago, she’d asked Did I choose incorrectly? Yes, just not the way you were asking. It’s a little funny, right? ) Avril coughs up a sharp laugh, and she’s... grateful, right, that Aella’ll keep making that mistake.

“Yeah, who’s winning?” Her hands are shaking, visibly, but she grabs the medkit and snaps it open with a shrug that almost manages to be casual. “Don’t cry t’me when that bites you in the ass later.”

[farfromtarsus]

invelleity‌:

writing avril: predator body language, “sharp smile”, synonyms for “keen,” dialogue is mostly gallows humor and call out posts, mun can’t name emotions if muse refuses to have them, not-so-sly references to home

writing malcolm: literally three words of dialogue, uncomfortable confusion about what’s going on in other muses’ heads, folded arms, synonyms for “scowl,” synonyms for “harsh,” on-guard stances in casual conversations

[farfromtarsus]

fountainhead

[farfromtarsus]

empathicstars‌ :

   Aella had remarked, more than once, that she was only ever what other people wished for her to be. 

   She saw herself as an empty board – a string with two joined ends and no clearly defined shape. Anyone could pull her into whatever they wished for her to be. She would be whatever they needed to see. 

   And now, standing on Tarsus with one of its few survivors, she wondered who or what she was meant to be. 

   What does it look like to you? 

   What was it meant to look like? Was it meant to look like the battlefield it was? Was it supposed to look unaffected, untouched, unroamed by progress? It was difficult for Aella to know. She had never seen this horizon without the knowledge of the history. Was the weight of the ground merely filled in with the knowledge she had, or was it sewn into the very fabric around them?

   In the end, she supposed, it did not matter. Lieutenant Leath’s question did not matter. Her answer did not matter. Whether or not Lieutenant Leath had ever been here did not truly matter. Yes, it mattered to her, Aella, and it mattered to the two of them, and their stories – but tragedy or no, they had a job to do. A job, she supposed, for which no one else would be better suited. 

   A job that, as Lieutenant Leath had already pointed out, could not be reassigned. 

   “We should continue, lieutenant.” 

   Cold and distant. 

   The only thing she ever was.

Something about her smile was sharp in an unusual way — not distant, but as if she was grinning at Aella, scanning her expression with one set of eyes and somehow watching the landscape with another.

Equal parts caught in the past and over-examining the present. Maybe not so unusual, after all.

We should continue. A lot to work with there.

If continuing could mean that they should leave behind the history as much as the physical place —maybe even if it didn’t,— then that was all Avril did. Ever moving, ever reaching. Picking up the broken half-person Kodos and his goons had left behind and piecing her back together with ambition and anger glued into the place that should have been the soft insides of her.

Bit maudlin, Leath, she thought, and huffed out a little snicker.

Quick assessment: Aella wasn’t looking to be difficult. Maybe the bare-faced deflection would be irritating, if she wanted to dig her feet in on this conversation. But Aella had looked like she was seriously considering the question, in her stupidly sentimental way.

The realization that it was as simple an answer as it sounded — just a request they get back to work, and not because she thought she needed to be reminded to do her own damn job. Just meeting her on her own terms. On their common ground, maybe.

She might be the bitter cunt who’d dedicated her entire career to studying the disaster that had wiped out her family, but Aella was the frigid bitch who’d buried her entire personality under duty and decorum.

“That uninteresting, huh?” Avril rolled her shoulders and bounced on her feet, sighing. “Yeah, if you’re bored, we shouldn’t hang around here wasting ’Fleet time.”

[screenshotsofdespair]

[farfromtarsus]

empathicstars‌ :

   There is a long moment that she stares at Lieutenant Leath. Stares at the PADD in her hand. Considers, most definitely, that she has just committed some sort of crime, and Aella is a witness, and she still has no idea what is happening. 

   Finally, slowly, lagging far behind, “… You are asking me to breakfast as an alibi?” 

“What would I need an alibi for? I do this right—” ( Unverbalized, because she assumes it’s obvious enough anyway: Avril is too familiar with ’Fleet coding and far too confident in her own abilities to even consider that she might fuck up. ) “—and the brass never notices.”

( Also too obvious to say out loud: Whatever she thinks about Kil’s bad strip-shotgun-chess sportsmanship, he’s not a fuckin snitch. )

“I’m hungry. You’re nearby, a friend, don’t look busy.”

[rpsourcedmemes]

For every ⭐️ I get my muse will say something they admire about yours

[bombsinyourbones]

I can’t un-know the monsters but I can become the person who would have saved thirteen-year-old me.

3/365, wesley king (via norpowers)

[farfromtarsus]

@aviophobic from here

“Dunno,” the doctor replies curtly, and is about to leave it at that. He hadn’t heard anyone come up behind him, and he doesn’t enjoy being interrupted when he’s hard at work on a project. But the voice is one he doesn’t hear all too often and that small yet very significant fact brings him back to the present.

For just a moment the focus drops, and Leonard looks about as exhausted and beaten down as he feels, hand coming up to press over his eyes and drag down his face. He’s been at this for what feels like days, and in actuality, that’s not far from the truth. If Malcolm is approaching him, it must be because he has cause for actual concern.

But this antidote can’t wait. It can’t. The crew is dwindling, and all the beds are full. Many are laid up in their own quarters, because there’s no space left in sickbay.

More levelly, he adds, “Probably awhile ago.”

It’s not unusual to see officers pushing themselves a little too far — crises arise quickly on a starship, and no one likes to feel helpless while their friends and crewmates are suffering. Malcolm is used to making his own people stand down, but he doesn’t often interfere with other departments, let alone the heads of other departments.

Of course, they aren’t often down to this few capable hands.

He scans McCoy’s face for a moment, not entirely sure what he’s looking for, before shifting into a slightly less formal stance. It’s not a surprise that the good doctor is so dedicated, but it is concerning how off-kilter he looks. 

“Won’t do anyone good to wear yourself down and catch with this yourself, Doctor,” he tries, slowly, still maybe a little too stiff.

[mpdrolet]

[farfromtarsus]

misstheground‌ :

“My relationship with my brother or my relationship with yours? I have not seen my brother in many years. And I consider your brother to be my friend.” She didn’t have many of those.

"Lucky you," Avril smiled obliquely, neither moving her eyes away from Shoya's nor clarifying which part of her answer was the good fortune. She popped another bite into her mouth, still watching Shoya with a patient, crocodile-like sort of interest.

[iustusetpeccator]

“Hemingway once wrote, “The world’s a fine place and worth fighting for.” I agree with the second part.”

— William Somerset, Se7en

[farfromtarsus]

empathicstars‌ :

   What do you want from me, then? 

   The surprise in Aella’s face is, for a moment, too obvious – and as she works on reigning her feelings away and fading away before Lieutenant Leath, she notes the illuminance thus far offered. She wonders what about this would strike Avril as something to appreciate, but only briefly. 

   After all, she has her own quandary over which to mull. 

   It takes perhaps a full minute, perhaps more, of silence to summon up a reasonable answer – and though she delivers it rather flat, part of her feels it is meant to be a joke. 

   “Be kind to your brother.” 

Trust Aella to be caught off-guard that a contract goes two ways — Avril resists rolling her eyes, although the little scoff escapes her throat. Can’t decide if she’s amused or offended.

Waiting doesn’t bother her ( It’s good to see Aella taking this so seriously, after all, ) but —

Her friend makes her request, and Avril’s mouth actually drops open. She presses her lips together, blinking disconcertedly. Be kind to your brother. She wants to appreciate the acumen of it; she really does. She should. 

Avril half-chokes on an incredulous crow. “What?”

[businesshag-deactivated20160606]

[farfromtarsus]

aviophobic‌ :

“Didn’t end up alone anyhow,” he says with raised brows; not resentful, simply stating a painfully obvious fact. Avril probably doesn’t realize how unusual it is for him to have passed up an opportunity to appear annoyed. Hell, the good doctor is known to complain even when he’s happy. 

“I have. Can, when I want to.” It’s not an overly enthusiastic response. While he has no history with the game, no story to explain away why he might not care for it, it’s simply nothing that has ever particularly interested him. Perhaps he, too, could have benefited from better company. “My game could probably use some work.”

Leonard peers toward the sound, too; he’s here for fish, but one never knows what else could be lurking nearby. He’d learned that the hard way, and if something nasty decides to crawl up out of the water, he’ll definitely need to improvise. Nothing shows itself, nasty or otherwise, and he relaxes. 

“If you’re lookin’ for pointers, you’ve probably got th’wrong guy.”

“Guess not.” Avril snorts, laughing like it almost hadn’t occurred to her to consider herself company.

She stretches ungracefully and ignores the dirt that catches in her hair as she does it, just knocks one heel against the ground to shake her leg out. ( Could’ve ignored the stiffness in her joints a few more hours if she was still walking, but laying down it’s a little more annoying. ) 

“Nah, pointers are prob’ly easy to come by. Was thinking about testing the theory the game’d be less boring with someone more interesting.”

Was it ‘kind’ to say Ensign Sanghvi was just a deeply boring fuckin’ person? Of course not. But was it true?

Yeah. “’F you had time sometime.”

[empathicstars]

farfromtarsus‌: 

Malcolm doesn’t catch the unspoken humor —of course,— but even he is aware it was an odd thing to say, maybe, and especially to Aella of all people.

As long as he’s known her, and as similar as they can be, the bracha won’t ( can’t ) resonate with her the way it sits in his bones. Honestly, he couldn’t say exactly what prompted it — he’d long since switched to rote happy birthdays.

He’s surprised himself by saying it aloud, but he can only hope she sees what he’s getting at, he supposes. ( It is, always, a pleasure serving with you, Lt. Moore. )

He just nods shortly in response to her thank-you, the characteristic stiffness of it undercut by the faint tug of a half-smile.

( I’m glad to call you my friend… Aelliana. )

   He says nothing to her. 

   The commander’s lips quirk a bit upwards – customary scowl replaced more with a soft line than a smile or anything more cheery. Definitely enough to notice and file away the difference, to feel the air warm, to see gold hues about him. He stands before her, somehow more at ease than she has ever seen him, and also exactly as she can recall him. 

   Maybe he is relaxed in her mind, even not in the real world. Curious, that thought. 

   Perhaps he does not speak, but his gaze still seems to say something. She is unsure it is translatable, but were she pressed, she may’ve gotten near thoughts she could not hear. 

   Gentle gaze back. The pleasure is mine. And how grateful she was he was there, always. 

   Even, she was sure, when he did not want to be.