impertinences: (Default)
you're too young & eager to love

a liturgy

And I pray one prayer—I repeat it till my tongue stiffens—may you not rest as long as I am living! You said I killed you—haunt me, then! Be with me always—take any form—drive me mad! Only do not leave me in this abyss where I cannot find you.

February 2024

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impertinences: (so I ran faster)
impertinences: (so I ran faster)

half-savage & hardy & free

impertinences: (so I ran faster)
Alien: Resurrection bits.

I'm so not used to writing minor characters that I couldn't figure out whether or not Hillard is coming off correctly. Because I don't know enough information to know what's correct. But I'm trying!

--


There are no mothers in space.
This suits her.

-

She found Elgyn; he did not find her. A woman with grease on her hands, a woman who had a friendly smile even when holding a semi-automatic. He was impressed by her ass, then shocked by her capabilities as a pilot. She drinks whiskey with him, when they can find it, and he realizes that space hasn’t hardened her completely. She’s still a little soft inside, a little molten at the core. The sort of vulnerability he associates with young girls.

He’d be surprised, if he weren’t dead – gutted through the chest by an alien’s mouth - that she doesn’t start to cry until they reach the water.

-

Christie and Elgyn are partners. Have been for years. Sometimes, Hillard thinks she feels his eyes on her anyway. When she comes back from the cockpit, after it’s been on autopilot and there’s a trail of sweat running down her neck, a smell of man to her skin. When he takes a longer drink of Johner’s battery acid concoction and she feels her spine crawl.

-

Call joins the crew. Johner dislikes her, but Johner dislikes everybody.

Hillard is quiet, rolling her shoulders back, kicking her boots up on the opposite chair. Call has skin the color of milk and it makes her thirsty if she looks at her too long. Living aboard a ship for this long, she’s gotten used to the chalky taste of synthetic food, the texture that’s always off, the lack of smell. She’s also gotten used to a ship of men and almost chides herself for being standoffish before reminding herself that these are isolated times.

“If you mix the fake honey with the fake milk, it tastes a little better. Probably since honey was never meant to taste like this.” She considers this kindness, and slides a packet to the girl.

Call doesn’t quite stare, and she almost smiles. There’s not a lot of that happening on The Betty, unless it’s Elgyn’s wolf grin, so Hillard takes it as a thank you.