➢ 022 [VIDEO]

[theantiaya]

[For those who knew the "old" Aya...the gentle expression on her face as she turns on the feed may seem somewhat familiar. Though the illusion is quickly dispelled by two things: her body language, including the passive hand resting lightly against her chest, holding a small library book in place...and the bright, blue eyes where there had once been either black or green.]

I...don't understand what is going on. The last thing I recall, the Red Lanterns were attacking.  I was waiting for my beloved to return when Lord Atrocitous was upon me and I...then, nothing.

[The voice is hers as well, but also different. Softer. Timid. Fearful.]

My name is Ilana. I come from the planet Volkreig of the Forgotten Zone.

Somebody help me. Please.




((ooc: Thanks to Flood shenanigans, Aya has been temporarily possessed by the spirit of Ilana, her literal canon facetwin.))

Comments

[Spam]

[theantiaya]

[Her mind seemed to bypass the 'exact status' query, possibly wondering if he was wondering if she was hurt. She felt no pain. In fact, she felt very little of anything other than great concern.]

I could not tell you.

Razer had left to join the Armada. I told him that we needed healers and educators, not more soldiers, but he refused to listen. He...wanted to keep me safe. That was all he ever cared about.

[Spam]

[logistical]

[Spock inclines his head, listening. He is not sure whether she's dead or not - he isn't yet used to these floods. And frankly, if her consciousness is here, then death was a... technicality.]

And that is your last recollection before you boarded?

[Spam]

[theantiaya]

[A strange question. Why would her last memory be anything other than the last event that happened to her.]

Yes.

Atrocitous was upon our village, and then...I woke up here.

[Spam]

[logistical]

[Spock considers whether to tell her. He has neither the information nor the confidence to follow through with something like that. It's an emotional decision, but it feels right.]

[It is what the Captain would do, he hopes.]

I regret to inform you that your village may have been destroyed, and it is likely that the Razer you knew is also deceased.

[Spam]

[theantiaya]

[If it were possible, her face would have paled considerably at the news. As it was, her legs weakened beneath her; had she not already been sitting, there was a strong chance of her collapsing under her own weight]

What?

No. He can't be...

[Spam]

[logistical]

His status is unknown.

[Spam]

[theantiaya]

[Her eyes close shut. Tightly. Fighting off a threatening wave of tears.]

He cannot be dead.

He promised to return to me, so we could start our family together.

[Spam]

[logistical]

I did not say he was. Only that his status was unknown.

[This is the closest he gets to 'Sorry for your loss'.]

[Spam]

[theantiaya]

Then he will return.

[Denial. She could not allow herself to consider the alternative.]

[Spam]

[logistical]

I am inclined to agree.

[Not because of hope, but because he had evidence that Razer was alive. Just... changed from how Ilana knew him.]

Is there anything I can do for you?

[Spam]

[theantiaya]

I'm not certain.

This is all so overwhelming. I feel as if I should be tired, but for some reason, I'm not.

[Spam]

[logistical]

Perhaps you would like some books to read, while you wait? I can inquire as to the status of the mess hall.

[Spam]

[theantiaya]

That would be wonderful, thank you.

Admittedly, I am surprised the first book I came upon appeared to be in my own native tongue. Is is not usually spoken beyond our home world.

[What she doesn't realize, of course, is that Aya's translation program is automatically transcribing the words for her.]

[Spam]

[logistical]

There is an automatic translation network that extends throughout the ship, and it also works on any text you may read. For example, I am currently speaking my native language, but to you, it is all perfectly clear as though I was speaking your own.

[Spam]

[theantiaya]

Automatic...

I see. Razer was always the more proficient with advanced technology. The possibility had slipped my mind completely...but, yes, that would make sense.

[Spam]

[logistical]

Do you have any preference as to what type of book?

[Spam]

[theantiaya]

[Not anticipating the question, she had to think for a moment.]

I suppose most anything will suffice.

For the moment, I would mostly be grateful for the distraction from everything. Something to take my mind off of it until I am better prepared to think of my next move.

[Spam]

[logistical]

I shall return shortly.

[He stands, and inclines his head slightly.]

[Spam]

[theantiaya]

[She does not move, except to nod her head in placid compliance. There was little reason to protest. The quarters she was in appeared relatively secure. He promised to return on an errand for her.]

Thank you.

[Spam]

[logistical]

[It is a considerable length of time before Spock returns, as he'd been held up investigating a few other people while on his errand, but return he does, with a stack of books, mostly fiction, to keep Ilana occupied. Upon reaching her door, he knocks.]

Ilana, it is Spock.

[Spam]

[theantiaya]

The door is unlocked, Spock.

[She sounds a little calmer than before. Contemplative, even.]

[Spam]

[logistical]

[He comes in, and puts the books on the table.]

I have procured these books; they should be sufficient for the next few days.

[Spam]

[theantiaya]

[Her eyes did not lift to meet his presence, instead appearing to be focused on a small wastebin to one side of the bed. There were bits of red fabric sticking out above the rim, a tease of whatever could possibly be hidden from her sight.]

There is...a child's toy here. Tossed away, as if it held little value any longer.

How sad.

[Spam]

[logistical]

[Spock investigates. He does not move to touch it; it is in the wastebin, after all.]

It seems so.

[His answer is extremely noncommittal, simply because sad is not really anything he should be feeling at seeing a discarded toy, especially one that belonged to Aya, but he does, a little.]

[Spam]

[theantiaya]

Could it have been a mistake? The trash receptacle is so close to the desk, after all...

[Ilana, too, hesitates in retrieving it, although there appears to be nothing else contained within.]

Such luxuries are a rarity where I come from. Resources are seldom wasted on frivolities, save for the absolute youngest, who need them most. It would be a shame for whoever lost this precious item to never find it again....