[ we are at... spins a wheel. the prismatic peacock. ]
... We really can just collect a wardrobe from everywhere we go, huh? [ lovelace is looking through all the pretty fabrics, but is. pretty out of her wheelhouse with them. ]
It seems like it. [Lucky for you, this is much more in Rosamund's wheelhouse than most of their space adventures. Though the style itself is outside her purview. She thinks Scheherazade may be more help with this selection, but nonetheless!
She pulls a deep purple option and a scarlet alternative out and holds them up to the Captain.]
Maybe it's time to go a little brighter. Match the locals?
Nonetheless, she sighs and slides the pretty thing off. She holds it up to herself, but frowns. It washes her out a little, the pigment is a touch too rich.]
Well. Even if neither of us get anything, the experience is worthwhile.
[Continues to play memshare chicken. Who's gonna cave first........]
Rosamund is consumed by a prickling dread at once. She has to admit: the terms and the tensions were alien to her. Magazine, clone, etc etc. She doesn't get it. The threats are underlined in tone but the context slips clean past her. Three weeks in space isn't enough for total fluency.
What she does understand is the basics. Betrayal. Imposters. Death, and annihilation.
She comes out of the memory wide-eyed and chest heaving. It feels like her pulse has been pumping at nine times the usual speed. She's been holding her breath the whole time.]
What? [She blinks again, and the regular Lovelace stands before her. They're in a shop. They're on a desert planet. There's no guns. That was the one word whose weight she knew: the armory had shown her wonders.]
You mean — all right, I don't really understand everything that was going on, but you were... They thought you had been dead, but you weren't? And you comandeered the ship back to your home?
So what really happened, then? Did you come back to life, or just...I don't know. Look like you fell off a really high cliff, but really you grabbed a branch at the last moment, and they assumed you were dead, but then you weren't?
So you're magical in some way. Or... [She thinks a moment.]
I don't think I'll understand the specifics. Like, frankly, in my world, we ride horses and send letters and everything that technology does, magic takes care of some of it? So. I'm not asking the right questions, am I?
[ she thinks about this for a long moment kind of... deciding if she wants to explain or not. but rosamund seems nice. sincere, even if they aren't that close. so sure.
[I'm going to make the ruling that someone explained to her that the sun is a big ball of burning gas and not a wood-etched illustration hanging in the sky]
Though - the not dying part might not be the worst, considering the alternative. [ the process of dying and coming back sucks but staying dead would. you know. be worse she supposes. ]
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week 3: monday
... We really can just collect a wardrobe from everywhere we go, huh? [ lovelace is looking through all the pretty fabrics, but is. pretty out of her wheelhouse with them. ]
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She pulls a deep purple option and a scarlet alternative out and holds them up to the Captain.]
Maybe it's time to go a little brighter. Match the locals?
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[ she is just ignoring that rosamund is holding this up to her and removing herself from the equation. it's fine. ]
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She fluffs the scarlet out and in doing so drapes it over Isabel's shoulders.]
Come ooon. What's the point of going shopping if you can't have a little fun with it?
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... But you kids should have fun.
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[Sometimes Gerard seemed to think so.
Nonetheless, she sighs and slides the pretty thing off. She holds it up to herself, but frowns. It washes her out a little, the pigment is a touch too rich.]
Well. Even if neither of us get anything, the experience is worthwhile.
[Continues to play memshare chicken. Who's gonna cave first........]
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[ listen she's a jock, fashion isn't her thing. and i... will cave first, so wow, suddenly: the void! and a memory ]
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Rosamund is consumed by a prickling dread at once. She has to admit: the terms and the tensions were alien to her. Magazine, clone, etc etc. She doesn't get it. The threats are underlined in tone but the context slips clean past her. Three weeks in space isn't enough for total fluency.
What she does understand is the basics. Betrayal. Imposters. Death, and annihilation.
She comes out of the memory wide-eyed and chest heaving. It feels like her pulse has been pumping at nine times the usual speed. She's been holding her breath the whole time.]
What? [She blinks again, and the regular Lovelace stands before her. They're in a shop. They're on a desert planet. There's no guns. That was the one word whose weight she knew: the armory had shown her wonders.]
...What happened just then?
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... I got my way. [ via threats!!! yay ]
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You mean — all right, I don't really understand everything that was going on, but you were... They thought you had been dead, but you weren't? And you comandeered the ship back to your home?
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It took a long time and we ended up leaving on a different ship, but - that's the idea.
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[anything is possible...]
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Then, carefully:]
And do you just start over? Or get back up on the spot?
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... It takes about a day for my body to heal itself. Brain has to do some hard-resetting, too. It's a whole thing.
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I don't think I'll understand the specifics. Like, frankly, in my world, we ride horses and send letters and everything that technology does, magic takes care of some of it? So. I'm not asking the right questions, am I?
[She draws a little closer, earnestly curious.]
May I ask what you are, Miss Lovelace?
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sure. ]
I'm a copy. A clone of the real Isabel Lovelace.
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[Her hand touches to her lips.]
I think I've heard of "cloning" before here, I'm not sure where. But, I think I understand.
What happened to the real one?
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[ which is why she switches back to referring to the 'real' lovelace as 'i.' ]
I... tried to escape the station on a makeshift shuttle and fell into the sun.
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Oof. [What a face she pulls.] That'll do it.
Then where does the copy come from?
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... From aliens, lightyears away, using the star like a door.
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nods]
I...can relate a bit to that. In a sense. Someone very far away playing with your fate.
[She shrugs a little haplessly]
And I don't always stay dead either.
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Though - the not dying part might not be the worst, considering the alternative. [ the process of dying and coming back sucks but staying dead would. you know. be worse she supposes. ]