OOC: Availability (lack thereof)
Comcast sucks, and because Comcast sucks, I am internetsless. The university library, where I am now, is on summer hours, so until Comcast stops sucking, my availability is basically nil. Sorry, guys.
Room 317, Sunday Night
Z stared out the window of her room at the stars. Days like this were always the hardest. Birthdays, Christmas, she'd gotten used to that whole thing a long time ago. At least on Thanksgiving she could count on a hot meal at one of the shelters. But Father's Day...before she ran, she'd always felt like such a liar when she made cards at school for her crappy foster father of the month.
She could vaguely remember her real father--a gentle voice singing a lullaby to her in Spanish, and big strong hands pushing her on the swings. She remembered really good enchiladas, too, but she somehow thought her grandmother had made those. She wished she could remember what had happened to him; how she'd wound up in foster care. She wondered if it had been her replicating. He wouldn't have been the last person to get rid of her because of it, so she guessed she couldn't blame him. But she didn't remember, and Jack was right when he said it didn't matter. They had each other. Or they had. Not any more, not with Jack in a capture card and her in this too-quiet, too-empty dorm room.
"Happy Father's Day, if you're out there," she told the stars and someone whose face she couldn't remember to save her life. "I guess you are, actually. I'm, what, one now? So you're still around." She wiped a tear from her face and swore. She was getting emo again. Jack would've teased her and poked her in the ribs until she cheered up.
But Jack wasn't here. She was fifteen years in the past and in Virginia and alone.
She could vaguely remember her real father--a gentle voice singing a lullaby to her in Spanish, and big strong hands pushing her on the swings. She remembered really good enchiladas, too, but she somehow thought her grandmother had made those. She wished she could remember what had happened to him; how she'd wound up in foster care. She wondered if it had been her replicating. He wouldn't have been the last person to get rid of her because of it, so she guessed she couldn't blame him. But she didn't remember, and Jack was right when he said it didn't matter. They had each other. Or they had. Not any more, not with Jack in a capture card and her in this too-quiet, too-empty dorm room.
"Happy Father's Day, if you're out there," she told the stars and someone whose face she couldn't remember to save her life. "I guess you are, actually. I'm, what, one now? So you're still around." She wiped a tear from her face and swore. She was getting emo again. Jack would've teased her and poked her in the ribs until she cheered up.
But Jack wasn't here. She was fifteen years in the past and in Virginia and alone.
Pangolin A4, Sunday Evening
After a trip to Jeff, God of Biscuits', Z sat on her bed with a cupcake with a single candle stuck in it cupped in her hand and sang softly, "Happy birthday to me, happy birthday to me, happy birthday dear Z, happy birthday to me." Then she blew out the candle and started to eat her cupcake.
((Z is now 16!))
((Z is now 16!))
Pangolin A4, Sunday Evening
Z carried her duffel and backpack into the cabin and looked around for a good spot. No one else seemed to be in her half of the cabin yet, so she had her pick. Hmm. Away from the common room seemed like a good idea. So she chucked her bags on the bed in alcove A4 and left the cabin to find something to do.
((I claim this bunk in the name of Space Patrol Delta!!))
((I claim this bunk in the name of Space Patrol Delta!!))
Room 317, Saturday (Early Afternoon)
Z woke up sometime around noon and decided to be lazy today. After getting dressed and opening the door in case somebody wanted to drop by, she flopped back down on her bed with her headphones on--she really had to get some new music--and started mentally composing a letter to Jack. One that would never be mailed.
((Open!))
((Open!))
Room 317, Tuesday Morning/Afternoon
After kicking Alec out (nicely, because mmm) Z took a quick shower and got ready for the day, wearing civvies because, well, she wanted to. Then she flopped down on the spare bed to read more of The Jade Flower. The door was propped open.
Room 317, Monday Night
Z lay sprawled on her bed, flipping through the copy of The Jade Flower she'd checked out of the library and snickering at some of the writing. She could probably do better than this. Well. Maybe.
((For someone who knows who he is. Probably going to be NWS.))
((For someone who knows who he is. Probably going to be NWS.))
Dorm Computer Lab, Very Late Sunday Night
Z spent most of Sunday in her room, reading the SPD handbook and polishing off her Oreos, then sleeping a lot. She liked sleep. Sleep was good. And now she had an actual bed, instead of a cot at some shelter or a mattress on the floor. It was nice. The complete works of Sydney Drew, her only form of entertainment besides the SPD handbook, were starting to get really grating, however. She was going to have to do something about that.
Very late at night, after reviewing the due process protocols for the fifth time, Z finally dragged herself out of her dorm room and down to the computer lab to check for e-mail from Commander Cruger. And lo and behold, she had mail.
From: anubiscruger@spacepatroldelta.gov
To: elizabeth.delgado@fandomhigh.net
Subject: ( re: re: re: Questions )
Very late at night, after reviewing the due process protocols for the fifth time, Z finally dragged herself out of her dorm room and down to the computer lab to check for e-mail from Commander Cruger. And lo and behold, she had mail.
From: anubiscruger@spacepatroldelta.gov
To: elizabeth.delgado@fandomhigh.net
Subject: ( re: re: re: Questions )
Dorm Computer Lab, Friday Night
Z sat down at the same computer she'd used before and logged on to check her e-mail. Spam, spam, and there was the e-mail from Cruger. Yay.
FROM: anubiscruger@spacepatroldelta.gov
TO: elizabeth.delgado@fandomhigh.net
SUBJECT: ( re: Questions )
Z sat back and thought about this for a few seconds before hitting 'reply'.
FROM: elizabeth.delgado@fandomhigh.net
TO: anubiscruger@spacepatroldelta.gov
SUBJECT: ( re: re: Questions )
FROM: anubiscruger@spacepatroldelta.gov
TO: elizabeth.delgado@fandomhigh.net
SUBJECT: ( re: Questions )
Z sat back and thought about this for a few seconds before hitting 'reply'.
FROM: elizabeth.delgado@fandomhigh.net
TO: anubiscruger@spacepatroldelta.gov
SUBJECT: ( re: re: Questions )
Dorm Computer Lab, Late Thursday Night
Z sat down at one of the computers and unfolded an information sheet, then started writing an e-mail to Commander Cruger.
FROM: elizabeth.delgado@fandomhigh.net
TO: anubiscruger@spacepatroldelta.gov
SUBJECT: ( Questions )
FROM: elizabeth.delgado@fandomhigh.net
TO: anubiscruger@spacepatroldelta.gov
SUBJECT: ( Questions )
Fandom High Lawn, Tuesday Morning
After SPD Officer Blake dropped Z off at the gates, she shouldered her backpack, picked up the SPD issue duffel bag she'd been given, and headed off to find someone who could help her find her new dorm room. She was wearing an SPD cadet's black and grey uniform because, well, it was clean, and hopefully it would help her to ID this other cadet. If it didn't, the giant 'SPD' emblazoned across her bag probably would. Space Patrol Delta, it seemed, really liked labeling things.
As she was crossing the lawn, she almost ran into a petite girl hauling a duffel bag of her own. The girl had messy blue hair and clothes with a lot of safety pins, and seemed kind of cranky. Z guessed, somehow, that she was going to meet the woman in black in the convertible down at the gates, the one Officer Blake had tried to flirt with until he realized she was pregnant. There was definitely a family resemblance.
( They Meet )The blue-haired girl headed off, and Z shrugged. Whatever, she was used to unfriendly people by now. She headed for the front lawn, since the blue-haired girl didn't seem to be wrong about that. Time to make a good first impression.
"Okay, Z," she said to herself under her breath. "Whatever you do, don't replicate."
As she was crossing the lawn, she almost ran into a petite girl hauling a duffel bag of her own. The girl had messy blue hair and clothes with a lot of safety pins, and seemed kind of cranky. Z guessed, somehow, that she was going to meet the woman in black in the convertible down at the gates, the one Officer Blake had tried to flirt with until he realized she was pregnant. There was definitely a family resemblance.
( They Meet )The blue-haired girl headed off, and Z shrugged. Whatever, she was used to unfriendly people by now. She headed for the front lawn, since the blue-haired girl didn't seem to be wrong about that. Time to make a good first impression.
"Okay, Z," she said to herself under her breath. "Whatever you do, don't replicate."
