Eyes of a Tragedy

Her universe was coming apart.

For weeks now, Kerrigan had heard - felt her creatures as they were ripped from this universe. She had had to step in to keep troop movements from falling apart as they suddenly had to work around absences the other zerg could neither register nor comprehend.

But it was moving too fast.

Weeks, she had dodged and weaved and worked her little ploys to ensure the survival of the swarm-- and now Tarsonis was gone. In and of itself, it meant nothing to her: it was a terran planet, and not a zerg one.

But it meant that now they were in danger. And so as she watched the oddity crawl into being in the distance, all impenetrable clouds and utter nothingness, she took a step back. Towards the Xel'naga artifact. The same one that had gotten her to Fandom in the first place so many years ago.

She was the Swarm. As long as she lived, it survived.

"River."

Some people just didn't have a lot of 'thanks' in their lives.

Which is why, unlike a good chunk of the Fandom population, Kerrigan wasn't giving any tonight. She was in the kitchen instead, quietly sifting through her fridge to find enough materials to make something edible with.

The house was dark. As it usually was. Empty and quiet.

Almost like space. Just not quite.

She thought of Michael Liberty and Jim Raynor, talking on the Hyperion, and smiled -- a little bit -- at herself. Not with any particular joy, but with a rueful sense of place, affection for men she was starting to think she was likely never to see again.

[ wait for weetiny ocd of ocd UP. for one person in particular, with the exception of a certain sheriff who can visit at 10:00 or later if he waaants. up early because our timezone ROCKS yours ]

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 ]