Eyes of a Tragedy

So.

She had some food in the fridge. And drinks. Non-alcoholic drinks.

So.

She had a couch. And a record player. And--

A birthday party, apparently. Maybe. She wasn't sure.

[ open for some particular people, but hell, anyone who has any reason to be there ]

It had been another-- well, ordinary day was something else. But it'd been a day, and Kerrigan was, as per usual, alone, rifling through her fridge looking for something that might seem remotely edible.

Her record player was softly playing some music through the house, even if she had been tired of it for a day or so after that whole... thing. It was nice, and it was quiet, and if she was contemplating an extra beer for dinner, well, that was nobody's business but hers.

[ open to those who know who they are ]

Well, the night had been a complete and total wash-up, but at least Kerrigan's brain was rolling with alcohol right now.

Which either made thinking about things easier or harder. "I think I'm falling into a habit of running away from parties."

[ open to a someone ]

Her fridge had been stocked up well enough, but Kerrigan had still found herself chowing back noodles more often than not over the past few days. Cooking just wasn't her strong suit, and she lacked the inclination to learn.

Christmas Eve had passed by unnoticed.

She was in the living room, running system checks on her armor and fiddling with the wires.

[ open to anyone who'd come bug kerrigan on christmas day; early due to sp later yay ]

She hadn't moved much since arriving home the previous night.

Curled up in a far corner of her own bedroom, Kerrigan was breathing in the silence like a lifeline, one ticking second at a time. Quiet. Quiet quiet blissful quiet. It had been such a rare commodity since over a week ago, when the buzzing had started.

The buzzing which almost collapsed her mind's grafted-on dampeners entirely. Adama had meant well, but taking her into an area full of sick people had not been the world's most brilliant idea.

Maybe someone should know.

But not now. Now the quiet had to soak into her bones again, let her take the reigns. Once she snapped out of this, she might worry about fleeting moments that might have hurt those she knew, but now...

Silence was almost back.

[ linkdroppy, but open if anyone wants to come by ]

Kerrigan settled in the command room with a deep sigh. Ass impacting the chair, it took her about half a minute to realise that one of the scanners was bleeping. A lot.

She sat up immediately, slamming commands into the ancient keyboards. In a few moments, she had all her answers: she pulled the Ghost armor out of the corner, suited up, and left the house for the causeway under the cover of darkness.

[ Kerrigan leaving the island in the night is FB, everything else isn't. establishy! ]

Tap tap tap.

( There hadn't been lights on in 25 Unicorn Street since Kerrigan came here. )

The house complete and empty, a Velvet Underground record playing in the background, she was content just to be, tonight.

"Oh, and I guess that I just don't know..." she sang, her voice ringing quietly in the darkness.

[ mostly just establishy for end of home improvement yay!, but these things are always open if you want to play bother the soldierchick ]

It had taken her a little time, but Kerrigan had found an old record player in town - it creaked and skipped, but that's what made it familiar. Besides, it meant she could play some of the few classic Earth records she'd found that she recognised. She was sitting cross-legged on the bed: the music was playing softly in the background of her bedroom (which still smelled of gun oil) as she composed a message on the recorder.


When the record player skipped to hello darkness my old friend, I've come to talk with you again, she threw the voice recorder into the corner of the room, annoyed with herself beyond words. She rolled off the bed and stalked into the living room to place a call.

[ establishy/linkdrop; contents of message nfb ]

Over the past few days, Kerrigan had made a lot of progress. The hole in the roof had been fixed, some of the furniture had been shoved around to account for what she felt was a more efficient distribution of space, and one of the oddly-smelling bedrooms seemed to have vanished: there was a wall where it once was.

Or at least it looked like a wall, and that was all that mattered.

The only thing she hadn't managed to solve yet was the ball pit question, but she had full confidence she'd find a solution eventually. Maybe call in a little assistance (and only assistance, she could do the grunt work herself, thank you. It was just the logistics that bothered her). At the moment, she was sitting on the floor in the corner of the room, Ghost visor pulled over her head, a few balls lying still by her feet. She fiddled with the wiring on some unidentifiable contraption, tapping a faint rhythm on the floor with her boot.

"Hey, Jimmy," she spoke into the device; paused, then repeated, "Jimmy, hey." She leaned over, dog tags jingling against the wires, "Hey, heroboy, this won't find you till I get home, but you've got no idea..."

[ open for anyone who said they'd bug kerrigan/wants to bug kerrigan. upcoming thread with mouthy_merc will come last chronologically yay timezones, get your shots in before and win a prize! metaphorically ]

It was getting dark, her arms were heavy of dragging all of this weaponry around all day, and Kerrigan had yet to encounter any kind of barracks or the like. She could've gone to the hotel, of course, but she wasn't exactly certain on the going rate for minerals on this particular world and she was loath to explore the possibility unless she absolutely had to.

( However, luck seemed to be on her side. )
She wandered by the bedrooms. Weird. Weird. ...Guns.

Guns. She grinned faintly - even if there may have been a sense of bitterness about the whole thing. Felt like home already.

[ establishy; 25 unicorn broken into with permission from mouthy_merc ]