Title free
Apr. 7th, 2004 04:19 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
itsallovernowCan't think of much clever to say. I've declared this journal (for today at least) to be a whine free zone, at least from my end! Still doing the jury duty dangle.
Bought a plane ticket to go see my best friends in Minnesota. Now, if only they'd play nice together. No matter, it'll still be such a treat to see them.
One of my Season 1 Farscape DVD's is having a fight with the PS2. It's played before, but now the bloody machine acts like it's not there. These are the perils of depending upon the technology of a 30-year old teenager. It behaves just like he does.
Got home late, and after my frustrated attempts to watch my DVD, caught the middle of the X-Files finale. I still have much love for this show, for it's bite, and it's elegance, it's wit and creepiness and so much, but I really, really wonder when my Mulder sympathy went westward, and how much of that was learning far too much about the actor, and how much of it was real lack of Mulder love.
Good luck to![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
crankygrrl, you'll do brilliantly on your test, I'm sure. So for you, and for the other people who kindly and generously requested more, new Citrine snippet. I know it's been a while, so I'm linking to the last post:
Citrine - Part 8
and here's part 9.
“Damn! Honey, did you see that?”
Her husband is standing very close to her, and any moment the babbling is going to start. Zoe steps lightly on Wash's foot, and he oofs, nudges her with his elbow.
“That hurt, honey,” he says, sounding Wash wounded, trying to figure out if it’s play time or she wants his serious attention.
“Sorry, dear,” she replies, “My foot must of slipped.”
“Hmph,” he says, “We should have those things checked out. Did you see that, she hit him and,,,”
Zoe steps on his foot again and Wash gets the message.
The rest of them are looking at Jayne, splayed flat, knocked cold, but Aeryn and Zoe watch River instead.
The girl reaches over, fingers brushing against the hilt of the knife Jayne has lodged into the table like a loaf of warm bread.
Zoe says River’s name, putting a layer of calm in along with the authority. River’s focused though, attention caught on the curved handle and the sheen of the blade. She wraps her hand around the wood and slides it up smoothly, out of the wood. She shouldn’t have been able to do that, Zoe thinks, it shoulda jerked, shuddered in her small grip.
Attention is turning back to River and she giggles, the sound running cold sweat down Zoe’s spine. The girl tosses the knife up a few inches into the air, catching it with her wrist turned so that she can switch her grip, point the blade ceilingward. Breaths are held all over the kitchen, and River's face is rapt and bright. She tosses the knife again. It only elevates an inch or two, but the gesture is frighteningly graceful and when the knife descends, River extends her palm so that it balances in the center of her hand. She smiles that little girl joy smile, holding the blade steady, then flips her hand. The knife spins, blurred, and once more she holds it like a weapon.
Zoe repeats her name, sharper this time and River hiccups, breath catching raw and wimpery in her throat. She opens her hand. Her name rings out from a cacophony of voices as the knife plunges down, heading towards Jayne. A whoomp, and a thump, and a muttered, “Frell,” and Crichton’s no longer visible from where Zoe is standing.
“Got it,” he says from the ground. Grunting a little, he grabs the edge of the table, hauls himself back up and tosses the knife into the center. Blood wells on his fingers, and he puts them into his mouth, sucking lightly. Aeryn makes a low noise, but he shakes his head, takes his fingers out of his mouth, sticky with spit, says, “See, all present for account for.” Her mouth twists in response.
Mal’s hand is wrapped around River’s arm. He shakes her slightly, but Zoe can read the urge in the set of his teeth, to take her by the shoulders, shake her until her brain smacks the side of her skull, until she’s fixed, until she no longer scares the life out of all of them.
“Your room,” he orders, no humor left. “Now. Do not leave there!”
Aeryn hasn’t move through the entire dance. Now her gaze sweeps over to Zoe and then back to River, limp in Mal’s grip.
“I’ll take her,” says Kaylee, sounding unhappy, scared. Mal nods and shoves the younger girl towards Kaylee. Simon starts to protest, but the words die in his throat as he looks at Crichton, at Jayne flat on the floor, at River as she steps over Jayne’s body.
“We should make certain that he hasn’t suffered any permanent damage,” Simon says instead, and it's sincere.
They haul Jayne into the medbay, Mal under one arm and Crichton under the other. Jayne doesn’t wake up, just drools and drags along, his weight heavy on their shoulders. Simon trails behind, reluctant, but still following through, and there’s no denying the satisfied snort he gives when they drop Jayne onto the table none too careful like, his head thwumping against the metal.
Crichton grunts, pops his back and looks around the med area. He fingers one of the panels by the scanner and tilts his head, opening his mouth to speak, and Aeryn says “No,” from the doorway.
“Babe,” he starts to say and Zoe wonders if they learn that tone when they get their husband papers, the whine/plea/it’s for your own good/you’re being unreasonable tone that’s never worked on any woman in the history of the ‘Verse.
But he turns, and instead of sending her a stubborn look, he closes his mouth, rolling his bottom lip between his teeth and Zoe thinks that better women than she have also probably succumbed to that wordless missive.
Mal hooks a thumb in his belt loop, watching as Simon moves efficiently over the prone man. Jayne has a dreamy little smile on his face and Zoe definitely doesn’t want to know what makes Jayne grin like that, asleep or awake.
“Make sure to take his boots off,” Mal instructs with a sigh. “River tied his shoelaces together last time,” he adds for Crichton and Aeryn’s benefit. “Went down like a felled tree. Set off quite a string of events as he aimed to even the score.”
“Spiders,” says Kaylee from the doorway. “Big ones. Purple. Oh, and rope traps. We still find ‘em sometimes. Cap’n got stuck in one for...”
“’S enough, Kaylee,” Mal interrupts quickly, “ and I think we’re trap free, at least for now.”
“Makes home sound positively peaceful,” Crichton says, amusement lacing the words. He nods at Jayne. “He should be okay. Aeryn didn’t hit him all that hard.”
Zoe has a fair set of composures, expressions she wears on purpose, but this almost sets loose her own amusement.
“What would he look like if she’d hit him harder?” she asks, deadpan.
“Dead,” Aeryn says, flat and shrewd, but her lips tilt at the corners.
“Ya know,” Mal continues like nothing has transpired, “Amusin’ as this all is, I think maybe you and me, Zoe, and our guests are due for a little chat.”
“I think you’re right sir,” she answers, following Mal’s lead.
“Not a problem,” Crichton answers. He’s rubbing his thumb over the top of his empty thigh holster, and despite his relaxed stance, the gesture is telling.
He’s nervous, and Zoe feels mildly ruthless. Aid is aid, but danger is somethin’ else. These people are dangerous, and Zoe’ll feel a might more reassured when she knows that danger isn’t going to spill onto her and hers.
Aeryn nods absently, and then, squaring her shoulders, moves over to Simon and makes a quiet request.
They forget how young he is, Zoe thinks, as he stands in the shadow of the other women, looking at her, trying not to show fear or awe, or any of those things that the rest of them have already openly broadcast.
He nods his head too rapidly, and Aeryn says “Thank you,” audible this time, and follows them to the cockpit.
They’re crammed into the cockpit, Aeryn sitting in the pilot’s chair. She’s wearing one of Zoe’s shirts and her pale skin stands out in sharp relief against the soft blue material, against her black hair. She’s in defensive mode again, one hand resting protectively on her belly.
John leans against one control panel, mirroring Zoe’s hip resting stance as she leans against the other panel and Mal looms over them all like a primary school headmaster.
“Normally I don’t take kindly to someone clocking one of my people,” he starts, “but Jayne maybe had it coming for somethin’ or other. He gets a might twitchy around River.”
There’s a lot Mal’s not saying, but really there’s no need. These people don’t need all of their secrets, and Zoe wishes she could put the assessing look Aeryn gave River behind her. She was weighing her, measuring something in the girl, and the thought of what she has decided is making Zoe most decidedly uncomfortable.
“I acted rashly,” Aeryn says, but it doesn’t sound like much of an apology. “My training is to assess a threat, deal with it instantly.” It’s a deliberate excuse, but Mal doesn’t call her on it, ignores her husband’s snort of outrage.
“And what kind of training would that be?” Zoe asks. “Alliance isn’t that well trained. We certainly weren’t and you don’t read like a mercenary.”
Aeryn’s teeth are very white in the darkness of the room,they flash sharp and dangerous. “Appearances can be deceiving,” she says archly.
“We’re not mercenaries,” John says, fiddling with the handle of one of the controls, flicking his thumb against the switch. “Technically, we’re criminals, but not mercenaries.”
Aeryn gives a sharp, brittle laugh. “Only because we never get paid for anything.”
John flashes her a warm, wide smile and she answers him back with genuine joy.
“That’s very nice,” Mal counters, impatient, “but what kind of criminals exactly? We ain’t got nothing against the criminal element, per se, but we have certain lines, boundaries if you will.”
The couple exchange a look, and then Aeryn’s gaze sweeps them both, taking them in. “We’re not a threat, I don’t think. We just need to get home.” She strokes down her belly and Zoe’s sure the gesture is unconscious. John scratches the back of his neck, looks sheepish.
“There are some people who aren’t real happy with us,” he says, trying to keep things light, but Zoe can hear the strain in his voice. They’ve heard a lot of stories rife with strain since the wars. “And we were sort of in the middle of something when we had to cut and run. Left the map back in the room.”
“So we’re just a ride,” Zoe confirms, “Bringing you someplace, setting you back on course.”
“That’s about it,” John says.
“I don’t think so,” Zoe answers.
Bought a plane ticket to go see my best friends in Minnesota. Now, if only they'd play nice together. No matter, it'll still be such a treat to see them.
One of my Season 1 Farscape DVD's is having a fight with the PS2. It's played before, but now the bloody machine acts like it's not there. These are the perils of depending upon the technology of a 30-year old teenager. It behaves just like he does.
Got home late, and after my frustrated attempts to watch my DVD, caught the middle of the X-Files finale. I still have much love for this show, for it's bite, and it's elegance, it's wit and creepiness and so much, but I really, really wonder when my Mulder sympathy went westward, and how much of that was learning far too much about the actor, and how much of it was real lack of Mulder love.
Good luck to
crankygrrl, you'll do brilliantly on your test, I'm sure. So for you, and for the other people who kindly and generously requested more, new Citrine snippet. I know it's been a while, so I'm linking to the last post:Citrine - Part 8
and here's part 9.
“Damn! Honey, did you see that?”
Her husband is standing very close to her, and any moment the babbling is going to start. Zoe steps lightly on Wash's foot, and he oofs, nudges her with his elbow.
“That hurt, honey,” he says, sounding Wash wounded, trying to figure out if it’s play time or she wants his serious attention.
“Sorry, dear,” she replies, “My foot must of slipped.”
“Hmph,” he says, “We should have those things checked out. Did you see that, she hit him and,,,”
Zoe steps on his foot again and Wash gets the message.
The rest of them are looking at Jayne, splayed flat, knocked cold, but Aeryn and Zoe watch River instead.
The girl reaches over, fingers brushing against the hilt of the knife Jayne has lodged into the table like a loaf of warm bread.
Zoe says River’s name, putting a layer of calm in along with the authority. River’s focused though, attention caught on the curved handle and the sheen of the blade. She wraps her hand around the wood and slides it up smoothly, out of the wood. She shouldn’t have been able to do that, Zoe thinks, it shoulda jerked, shuddered in her small grip.
Attention is turning back to River and she giggles, the sound running cold sweat down Zoe’s spine. The girl tosses the knife up a few inches into the air, catching it with her wrist turned so that she can switch her grip, point the blade ceilingward. Breaths are held all over the kitchen, and River's face is rapt and bright. She tosses the knife again. It only elevates an inch or two, but the gesture is frighteningly graceful and when the knife descends, River extends her palm so that it balances in the center of her hand. She smiles that little girl joy smile, holding the blade steady, then flips her hand. The knife spins, blurred, and once more she holds it like a weapon.
Zoe repeats her name, sharper this time and River hiccups, breath catching raw and wimpery in her throat. She opens her hand. Her name rings out from a cacophony of voices as the knife plunges down, heading towards Jayne. A whoomp, and a thump, and a muttered, “Frell,” and Crichton’s no longer visible from where Zoe is standing.
“Got it,” he says from the ground. Grunting a little, he grabs the edge of the table, hauls himself back up and tosses the knife into the center. Blood wells on his fingers, and he puts them into his mouth, sucking lightly. Aeryn makes a low noise, but he shakes his head, takes his fingers out of his mouth, sticky with spit, says, “See, all present for account for.” Her mouth twists in response.
Mal’s hand is wrapped around River’s arm. He shakes her slightly, but Zoe can read the urge in the set of his teeth, to take her by the shoulders, shake her until her brain smacks the side of her skull, until she’s fixed, until she no longer scares the life out of all of them.
“Your room,” he orders, no humor left. “Now. Do not leave there!”
Aeryn hasn’t move through the entire dance. Now her gaze sweeps over to Zoe and then back to River, limp in Mal’s grip.
“I’ll take her,” says Kaylee, sounding unhappy, scared. Mal nods and shoves the younger girl towards Kaylee. Simon starts to protest, but the words die in his throat as he looks at Crichton, at Jayne flat on the floor, at River as she steps over Jayne’s body.
“We should make certain that he hasn’t suffered any permanent damage,” Simon says instead, and it's sincere.
They haul Jayne into the medbay, Mal under one arm and Crichton under the other. Jayne doesn’t wake up, just drools and drags along, his weight heavy on their shoulders. Simon trails behind, reluctant, but still following through, and there’s no denying the satisfied snort he gives when they drop Jayne onto the table none too careful like, his head thwumping against the metal.
Crichton grunts, pops his back and looks around the med area. He fingers one of the panels by the scanner and tilts his head, opening his mouth to speak, and Aeryn says “No,” from the doorway.
“Babe,” he starts to say and Zoe wonders if they learn that tone when they get their husband papers, the whine/plea/it’s for your own good/you’re being unreasonable tone that’s never worked on any woman in the history of the ‘Verse.
But he turns, and instead of sending her a stubborn look, he closes his mouth, rolling his bottom lip between his teeth and Zoe thinks that better women than she have also probably succumbed to that wordless missive.
Mal hooks a thumb in his belt loop, watching as Simon moves efficiently over the prone man. Jayne has a dreamy little smile on his face and Zoe definitely doesn’t want to know what makes Jayne grin like that, asleep or awake.
“Make sure to take his boots off,” Mal instructs with a sigh. “River tied his shoelaces together last time,” he adds for Crichton and Aeryn’s benefit. “Went down like a felled tree. Set off quite a string of events as he aimed to even the score.”
“Spiders,” says Kaylee from the doorway. “Big ones. Purple. Oh, and rope traps. We still find ‘em sometimes. Cap’n got stuck in one for...”
“’S enough, Kaylee,” Mal interrupts quickly, “ and I think we’re trap free, at least for now.”
“Makes home sound positively peaceful,” Crichton says, amusement lacing the words. He nods at Jayne. “He should be okay. Aeryn didn’t hit him all that hard.”
Zoe has a fair set of composures, expressions she wears on purpose, but this almost sets loose her own amusement.
“What would he look like if she’d hit him harder?” she asks, deadpan.
“Dead,” Aeryn says, flat and shrewd, but her lips tilt at the corners.
“Ya know,” Mal continues like nothing has transpired, “Amusin’ as this all is, I think maybe you and me, Zoe, and our guests are due for a little chat.”
“I think you’re right sir,” she answers, following Mal’s lead.
“Not a problem,” Crichton answers. He’s rubbing his thumb over the top of his empty thigh holster, and despite his relaxed stance, the gesture is telling.
He’s nervous, and Zoe feels mildly ruthless. Aid is aid, but danger is somethin’ else. These people are dangerous, and Zoe’ll feel a might more reassured when she knows that danger isn’t going to spill onto her and hers.
Aeryn nods absently, and then, squaring her shoulders, moves over to Simon and makes a quiet request.
They forget how young he is, Zoe thinks, as he stands in the shadow of the other women, looking at her, trying not to show fear or awe, or any of those things that the rest of them have already openly broadcast.
He nods his head too rapidly, and Aeryn says “Thank you,” audible this time, and follows them to the cockpit.
They’re crammed into the cockpit, Aeryn sitting in the pilot’s chair. She’s wearing one of Zoe’s shirts and her pale skin stands out in sharp relief against the soft blue material, against her black hair. She’s in defensive mode again, one hand resting protectively on her belly.
John leans against one control panel, mirroring Zoe’s hip resting stance as she leans against the other panel and Mal looms over them all like a primary school headmaster.
“Normally I don’t take kindly to someone clocking one of my people,” he starts, “but Jayne maybe had it coming for somethin’ or other. He gets a might twitchy around River.”
There’s a lot Mal’s not saying, but really there’s no need. These people don’t need all of their secrets, and Zoe wishes she could put the assessing look Aeryn gave River behind her. She was weighing her, measuring something in the girl, and the thought of what she has decided is making Zoe most decidedly uncomfortable.
“I acted rashly,” Aeryn says, but it doesn’t sound like much of an apology. “My training is to assess a threat, deal with it instantly.” It’s a deliberate excuse, but Mal doesn’t call her on it, ignores her husband’s snort of outrage.
“And what kind of training would that be?” Zoe asks. “Alliance isn’t that well trained. We certainly weren’t and you don’t read like a mercenary.”
Aeryn’s teeth are very white in the darkness of the room,they flash sharp and dangerous. “Appearances can be deceiving,” she says archly.
“We’re not mercenaries,” John says, fiddling with the handle of one of the controls, flicking his thumb against the switch. “Technically, we’re criminals, but not mercenaries.”
Aeryn gives a sharp, brittle laugh. “Only because we never get paid for anything.”
John flashes her a warm, wide smile and she answers him back with genuine joy.
“That’s very nice,” Mal counters, impatient, “but what kind of criminals exactly? We ain’t got nothing against the criminal element, per se, but we have certain lines, boundaries if you will.”
The couple exchange a look, and then Aeryn’s gaze sweeps them both, taking them in. “We’re not a threat, I don’t think. We just need to get home.” She strokes down her belly and Zoe’s sure the gesture is unconscious. John scratches the back of his neck, looks sheepish.
“There are some people who aren’t real happy with us,” he says, trying to keep things light, but Zoe can hear the strain in his voice. They’ve heard a lot of stories rife with strain since the wars. “And we were sort of in the middle of something when we had to cut and run. Left the map back in the room.”
“So we’re just a ride,” Zoe confirms, “Bringing you someplace, setting you back on course.”
“That’s about it,” John says.
“I don’t think so,” Zoe answers.
![[identity profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/openid.png){kind=small}
no subject
Date: 2004-04-07 04:33 pm (UTC)Too bad there will be ramifications.
Still, I can hardly wait to see Aeryn and Zoe backing each other up.
Enyoying this hugely.
seva
no subject
Date: 2004-04-07 04:57 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2004-04-07 05:27 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2004-04-07 05:47 pm (UTC)And Zoe is so smart. God help the men if Aeryn and Zoe decide to take charge of things. *g*
no subject
Date: 2004-04-07 05:55 pm (UTC)“Babe,” he starts to say and Zoe wonders if they learn that tone when they get their husband papers, the whine/plea/it’s for your own good/you’re being unreasonable tone that’s never worked on any woman in the history of the ‘Verse.
But he turns, and instead of sending her a stubborn look, he closes his mouth, rolling his bottom lip between his teeth and Zoe thinks that better women than she have also probably succumbed to that wordless missive.
Yes, I am copying a whole block of text, because this is my absolute favorite part, every word of it.
Good, good, good piece altogther.
no subject
Date: 2004-04-07 06:17 pm (UTC)“We’re not mercenaries,” John says, fiddling with the handle of one of the controls, flicking his thumb against the switch. “Technically, we’re criminals, but not mercenaries.”
Aeryn gives a sharp, brittle laugh. “Only because we never get paid for anything.”
But the rest of it is great as well.
no subject
Date: 2004-04-07 06:55 pm (UTC)Can't wait for how this continues to play out.
no subject
Date: 2004-04-07 09:01 pm (UTC)Oh, I so want to read the scene where they find out Aeryn's an alien. I didn't miss it, did I?
And yeah, if it wasn't obvious by now, I'm loving this fic. :)
no subject
Date: 2004-04-07 09:29 pm (UTC)*sheepish*
no subject
Date: 2004-04-08 06:23 am (UTC)And this:
They forget how young he is, Zoe thinks, as he stands in the shadow of the other women, looking at her, trying not to show fear or awe, or any of those things that the rest of them have already openly broadcast.
Excellent observation about Simon, and can I just say how much I love your Zoe POV in general? She seems to have the same feel and expertise in handling the crew as Kaylee does the ship.
And the rope traps!
I'm concerned that Aeryn's playing it to cold and dangerous, and John won't be able to sweettalk them out of the woodshed this time. I mean, while the crew won't taken too much offense because it's Jayne after all, it does take a lot to lay him flat--Lucy's got some 'splainin to do.
And dude! I have to feeling Wash is going to start saying 'dude' as much as I do.
no subject
Date: 2004-04-08 05:24 pm (UTC)Hee. One of my great pleasures in writing John is that him saying dude just seems completely natural, and therefore, I don't have to be embarrassed by how much of my conversation it peppers.
I'm very, very glad I linked to section 8 (I'm very pleased with how it turned out:), and yeah, I think they're gonna have to do an awful lot of backpedaling and forepedaling and sidepedaling to secure help here, as for Jayne though, I have other plans for him:) Bein' my favorite and all:)
I love Zoe's competence. It's one of the things that draws me to her, and that same quality in Aeryn although they're very different characters, the calm competence:)
So, mostly, thank you! So glad it's still working for you!
no subject
Date: 2004-04-08 05:26 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2004-04-08 05:26 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2004-04-08 05:27 pm (UTC)And thank you! So, so glad you're still enjoying it.
no subject
Date: 2004-04-08 05:28 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2004-04-08 05:29 pm (UTC)This is a great story, and I can't wait to read more.
no subject
Date: 2004-04-08 05:34 pm (UTC)that assessing look of Aeryn's that worried Zoe (and worries me as well) I have big plans for River, or at least Aeryn's assessment of River, I'm just not sure how, exactly to pull them off! Yet:)
no subject
Date: 2004-04-08 05:36 pm (UTC)Hee. I can't imagine why:) And thank you!
no subject
Date: 2004-04-08 05:39 pm (UTC)And yeah, so glad you liked it:)
no subject
Date: 2004-04-08 05:41 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2004-04-08 05:44 pm (UTC)I'm so glad you're enjoying it, and thanks so much for the supportive feedback!
no subject
Date: 2004-04-08 08:44 pm (UTC)But he turns, and instead of sending her a stubborn look, he closes his mouth, rolling his bottom lip between his teeth and Zoe thinks that better women than she have also probably succumbed to that wordless missive.
This was my absolute favorite part.
And the rest, well, I'm just loving this story so very much. I was excited to see you'd posted another part...and it only leaves me wanting more.
no subject
Date: 2004-04-10 12:17 am (UTC)