#sohelish

[ofdeomnes]

sohelish asked: ❛ did you know that icicles make the perfect murder weapon? ❜

       “ perfect? i ‘unno ‘bout that. more convenient if anythin’, i reckon. ”

  it wasn’t something that had ever crossed her mind before, perhaps it was more of a ‘heat of the moment’ situation rather than something a person would meticulously plan out in advance. 

      “ definitely they’d come in handy if y’ were stuck in like, Norway or somethin’ fightin’ a bunch of vampires. icicle’s make real good stakes in a pinch! ” she said, then mimed the action of both breaking off an icicle followed with a stabbing motion. 

     “ imagine tryna plan out a murder that needed an icicle, y’d have t’ either set up a water flow t’ make one in the right place or carry one ‘round in a cooler... or a thermos. ”

@sohelish​ ♥ | winter themed shenanigans 

[ladysifwarriorborn]

When Sif had been young, her clothes had been picked out for her. Her mother had done her best to try and subdue Sif's nature by burying her under layers of ruffles and pleated silks and binding her with girdles, petticoats, lacings and boning, and as final touch, having her wear silk slippers so delicate they would disintegrate if she as much as ran over grass wet from morning dew. A change into a more sensible wardrobe was made after Sif ruined a dress after dress, and Lady Adisa had to admit defeat. Only way of keeping Sif presentable was dressing her in simpler dresses made from sturdier fabrics.

After gaining her position as one of crown prince's closest friend, and the independence that came with it, Sif indulged in being able to choose her clothes. In her enthusiasm she overlooked the lack of actual choice; she had her pick of the finest clothes made by the most skilled artisans Asgard had to offer, but every piece of cloth brought to her to choose from had already been selected to fit her, both physique and station.

If it ever occurred to Sif that she could go to the marketplace and pick something for herself from the booths, she didn't entertain the though long. She had better things to do, anyway.

Growing up as nobility and spending your youth among the royalty isn't very good at preparing one to live in refuge. Thankfully Sif had always had a practical vein, so she learned to manage. Somewhat.

But now her clothes were beginning to wear out. The fine, tough leather had been through too much and started to rip at the seams. Fabric didn't clean up in wash and the yellow stains spred.

Going through the remains of what Sif had had on her when she left Asgard for the last time and the odd pieces she had bought since, she could put together one decent outfit. In the sense that it was clean and nothing was ripped. Sweatpants, a red leather vest, the top of a scuba suit, boots.

Sif was looking at herself from the hallway mirror, frowning deep what Hel came in.

@sohelish

[abraikaevra]

‘we have been cleared to land! —aguardiente!’ he exclaimed, waving his arms, doing his best rios impersonation. he had been silently studying him and practicing since their visit to freecloud; yet, his ability to emulate him had not improved at all since.

‘wait, are you actually disguised right now?’ a toothy grin at hel’s ( @sohelish​​ ) question, standing proudly in his denim jacket. ‘i am,’ he nodded. ‘you told me that this mission required us to be undercover. —is it the ears? do i have to cover them too?’ 

[my-timing-is-digital]

@sohelish asked: ‘ we are constantly searching, not just for answers to our questions, but for new questions. ’

A philosophical statement with which Data could positively concur; space exploration starkly pivoted around asking questions pertaining to interstellar phenomena which they could not instantaneously provide answers to. In their quest to garner as much information about the mysteries of the universe that encompassed them, they sometimes encountered more questions, but Data was not entirely convinced that she was referring to their exploratory endeavours.

‘Most of the scientific related queries and hypotheses can be corroborate or answered with scientific explanations,’ the android pointed out, furrowing his eyebrows in a contemplative manner while his yellow eyes scrutinised Helena, attempting to assign a specific emotion to her facial expression. ‘If you are experiencing difficulty, or have reached an impasse finding an adequate answer to your query, I would be more than happy to assist you in your pursuit to find answers.’

[duefaith-a]

          // @sohelish​ sent,  ❝ how long have you been standing there? ❞

          ❛ About two seconds — don’t worry, I didn’t overhear anything. You don’t really think I’m capable capable of being stealthy enough for you to not know when I’m around, do you? Though I’m a bit offended you think I’d eavesdrop. ❜

[escapedartgeek]

@sohelish

[x]

Hel's initial answer was fear. It was something that Zora isn't sure that they are surprised by. Fear was a common enough motivator although the shades of variation, of difference, of levels within that fear definitely had to impact how Hel moved.

The second answer of curiosity inspires a small nod from Zora. Yes, that was something that they had observed from Hel at least to some extent. The sheer drive of curiosity was something that they could understand despite it expressing itself in very different ways between the two of them.

"That disease of the mind does stick with you, driving you - ever-persistent in its influence." They recognize that Hel's not joking, the impact of curiosity, specifically the way that it moves her? Yeah.. there's something quite serious about it.

Z figures that the question would be turned on them and there is no shock when it is.

"Me? What keeps me motivated - obviously the comfort and drive to create, to make to try and process what I experience and have seen. Um.. to seek out those edges of experience and existence. To wonder and to wander at the same time more often than not. Trying to exist fully and completely - whatever that means seems to be a motivating factor for me as well. "

[colnerys]

‘PERSONAL LOG’

send  ‘PERSONAL LOG’  for a glimpse at one of my muse’s personal logs.  (bonus points if you add the name of a person,  place,  or an event you’d like the log to discuss!)

kira nerys, personal log, stardate ... i don't give a crap.

this is the fourth time this week that i've seen dax leave the holosuite with commander worf. i must admit, as ridiculous as i've felt being in one of those programs ... i'm envious of him.

i never really had friends my age growing up — well, friends that stayed long enough for it to become anything meaningful. after all, the occupation wasn't exactly made for us to raise children. every week i wept over losing a new friend to the cardassians as i begged them to take me instead but they never listened.

that stubborn little girl never lost hope until she joined the resistance.

funny isn't it? the resistance— a symbol of hope to all bajorans; an emblem of freedom ... yet, there i grew up. i saw how expendable our lives were to those spoo— cardassian soldiers. and i learned that the only way ... the only way for me to make it out alive was to grow no attachments & keep my heart close to my chest.

how did that turn out? horribly.

every night i still wept for the lives lost. i wept for my fallen comrades. i wept for the innocent bajorans that got caught in the crossfires. i even wept for a collaborator once.

but over time, i learned how to deal with it.

... i didn't come to this station to make friends. i had one job and one job only : make sure the federation doesn't screw us over. i was skeptical of them— hell, i still am but i never expected to feel like ... this.

now, jadzia isn't my only friend, i know that! i got er... i have odo too!

but odo wasn't the type of friend you had fun with — ha, look at me. talking about having fun... what does it matter? i should be grateful he's always there and that i can find him at any hour and he'd speak to me even if he doesn't get me half the time he's still... there.

i don't understand why i'm feeling this way. it isn't as if i'm dax's only friend on the station— i know that.

but there's something about her and worf that makes me feel ... queasy. that makes me feel sick. t-that makes it hard to breathe. i-it's ... it's like someone just reached into my chest and started squeezing my heart real tight— like a ...

like a heart break.

just like when bareil—

oh prophets. c'mon. this is just cruel.

this is DAX we're talking about. the same DAX who moves from one alien to the next— trying to conquer the galaxy, one night at a time! i-i can't— [ she gasps ] uhp—! no. of all the people on this station?! of all the people in this quadrant ?! why DAX?!

we'd never work! sure i think she's brilliant, intelligent, and wise beyond her years but that's PURELY from a professional standpoint. it has nothing to do with how soft her hair is, how just one look from her assures me like nothing ever has—

...like nothing ever has? [ hysterical laughter ] oh, prophets nerys! you really know how to pick 'em, huh?!

argh! computer, end log entry and establish a security code to access this entry — kira lambda five, seven, one, one, zero, delta, lock.

[mcgnificat-a]

          // @sohelish​​ sent,  ❝  the  true  joy  is  in  the  mystery . ❞

          ❛ is it, though?  don’t get me wrong:  I agree there’s no fun to be had in knowing everything. ❜    there’s no wonder in that,  nothing new to capture the attention,  no potential for the future. stagnancy.    ❛ but isn’t the fun in the figuring it out?  I’ve never found a puzzle that was fun unless you had a chance of solving it. ❜    she’d worked on an photomosaic jigsaw puzzle once,  in fit of boredom.  she’d gotten nowhere,  no matter the hours poured into it.  joy was the furthest thing that particular mystery had brought her.