open ❄️ and a song someone sings

[peasant]

CHARACTERS: alina & you!
LOCATION: various places on the station
DATE: throughout december
CONTENT: december catch-all. christmas antics, mistletoe madness, possible stupidity.
WARNINGS: will update if anything comes up!

I. COMMON AREA

[ bedrest hadn't suited her. freshly released from the infirmary, alina finds herself restless for a change of scenery — for a splash of color that isn't sterile white walls and beeping machinery. it doesn't take long for her to grow tired of seeing that same starkness reflected in the station's walls, spaces that hardly look lived in despite the time they've spent aboard.

maybe it's the inherent desire to create a home, to leave her little mark somewhere. maybe it's her drive to add color, unwilling to live in a dull and gray world. maybe it doesn't matter, in the end, when the result is the same — alina taking the skill she had spent time practicing and polishing in braccia, grateful for the peace that painting brings her.

she begins her work in the common area, first — ignoring the unnerved fluttering in her stomach at the thought of sharing a piece of herself so openly, so vividly, when she's gone unseen throughout most of her life. still, she won't allow self-consciousness to hold her back; with a paintbrush in hand, alina dapples it along the wall, rich colors in shades of hazy reds and neon blues that map out a mural.

— it's a messy affair, too. covering the floor in tarp has spared it from the same streaks of paint that have found themselves across alina: flecks across her knuckles, dried in strands of hair messy spilling out of the bun at the back of her head, smears on her shoulder from where an oversized (stained, now, with a dapple of green paint) dress shirt hangs loosely.

she doesn't seem at all bothered by it. in fact, she's so engrossed that she startles, the moment anyone makes noise in the room, nearly jumping out of her skin. once she recovers, she turns an apologetic grin toward them, biting it back with a nip to her bottom lip as she holds the paintbrush a little protectively to her chest. ]

Am I in your way?

II. CHRISTMAS CHEER.

[ keramzin's orphanage had never looked so festive. alina can only remember the gloom that had followed the feast of sankt nikolai — another holiday to remind them all of what they had lost, the lives they might have had if fate had been kinder to them. another day alina and mal had spent searching for peace in their meadow, finding the only family they needed in one another.

it had almost been enough to ease the ache in her chest. almost. it isn't quite enough to soothe it, now; it feels traitorous, somehow, to share in the celebrations without mal at her side. decorating the halls is a pleasant distraction, at least — another outlet for an artist, making the most of what she had never had the opportunity to indulge in.

alina lingers in the hallways, stringing along tinsel into spaces that have been left bare, sprinkling mistletoe and wreaths from doorways. what she hadn't accounted for, however: her own height, hopping and failing to reach closer to the ceiling, with a puffing huff of frustration. when she catches sight of another orber in her peripherals, she turns to them, decoration in hand — opening her mouth, hesitating with the words, before they come. ]

You're tall. [ it doesn't matter if they're tall or not. most of the ship seems to tower over her, regardless. her hands jut out, offering up whatever happens to be in her hands. ] Hang this for me?

[ if it happens to be mistletoe dangling from her fingertips, she breathes out an embarrassed laugh, reassuring them with, ] I'm not trying to trap you. Promise.

III. SUNLIGHT ROOM.

[ the flurry of snow that greets her in the sunlight room would put ravka to shame. much as alina knows it's an illusion, she's grateful to viveca for bringing her that slice of home, feeling the wintry air nip her cheeks into a frostbitten pink as she soaks in the sight, tipping her face toward the sky to invite a dusting of snowflakes to collect in her eyelashes.

it's with a carefree spirit, feeling lighter than she has since returning, that alina loses herself in packing together an arsenal of snowballs. waiting for the opportunity of an ambush, she lurks until she catches a glimpse of movement from the corner of her eye — and sends a snowball soaring through the air, striking them on the cheek, before ducking behind the nearest trunk of a fuzzy pine tree.

or, for those she knows well — they'll find the surprise of icy fingers at the back of their neck — and snow that follows suit, shoved down the back of their shirt. sneaky is hardly a weapon she can wield well, however — alina's girlish laughter rings out as she makes an attempt at an escape, chiming in the air as she moves to dart away, rabbit-hearted and breathless.

maybe you've found yourself on the lake with her, frozen over and slippery. it's new — the ice skates on her feet, leaving her as graceless as a newborn fawn on jittery, shaking legs as she stands. it's inevitable, really, that she would come tumbling down — knees buckling from momentum as she reaches out to steady herself, tangling her fingers in the fabric of another's sleeve.

— only to inadvertently tug them down with her in a tangle of limbs and a surprised yelp, the breath crashing out of her with a small, ] Oof. [ as she's sprawled out, blinking up at the sky with a dizzied grimace on her face. ] Sorry. I didn't mean to embarrass both of us.

IV. WILDCARD OPTION.

[ all of the above prompts are open to anyone and everyone, including mistletoe shenanigans, bc i have no shame. but feel free to shoot a PM my way or find me at nereids if you want to hash out a closed starter! or just throw a prompt my way and i'll gladly go along with it. c: any variations you want to do on these prompts are open game, too!

planned closed starters will be found below in the comments. ♥ ]

Comments

feelin' that for sure. this is lovely!

[homeostatic]

( He shrugs, just as she says- it's all the same to me. Nothing suggests he need to, besides.

Really, he could have been better about not throwing the non sequitur at her like that. )

You're pyrokinetic? ( It's...honestly a bit of a bland question, his tone not one of surprise or the grotesque curiosity of a normie poking a stick through bars, just professional interest. Something to ask while he maneuvers that topmost blanket and folds it down to the end of her bed. )

very! c: ❤️❤️❤️

[peasant]

[ with how drab his tone has gone, alina nearly has to wonder if they're speaking of something as ordinary and uneventful as the weather. if it's a normal term she should have taken note of, should be able to decipher. yes, the sky is blue today. how fascinating. instead, she tips her head to the side as though he's reciting a dead, ancient tongue long forgotten to the world. much as she hates appearing like a fool out of her depth, yet again — ]

A pyro — what now?

[ a confused little laugh puffs out of her in a flurry. really, his indifference should be a promising sign — another promise that she can be nothing more than a normal member of the team, here. not an oddity, or a fable raised to grand heights, or a woman suffocating within the confines of her destiny and duty.

a finger taps against the center of her sternum, shaking her head. ]

Sun Summoner. An out of commission Sun Summoner. [ inquiring, her eyes leap to the tablet in his hands. ] They don't have all of that in my file?

[ or ... whatever he's carrying around. joking as it sounds, there's a sincere need to know nagging at her, searching for answers in the most roundabout of ways, if only to soothe her paranoia. ]

[homeostatic]

Pyrokinetic, means you can make and control fire.

( It's clear by his puzzled expression that he's never heard of a 'Sun Summoner' though, but he might be putting a few thoughts together on what that is. Context clues, so forth. Bones gives the tablet a soft tap with a fingertip. )

I don't have access to the records Viveca has without your permission. These are my own notes.

( Patient privacy is paramount, but also, ugh, starting from scratch on patient profiles is lame, he's not some 21st century butcher there to leer at them, sheesh. )

[peasant]

[ inferni, then. with a grisha counterpart for comparison, her understanding is more easily won, flickering within her eyes like a sudden spark of torchlight. ]

I'm not sure I'm ready to share all of my secrets just yet.

[ a clumsy smile stitches itself onto her mouth, burying that truth behind light-hearted warmth. a joke, to anyone's ears; an uncertainty that rings in alina's own as she leans back, idly plucking at the infirmary bed's crisp white sheets where they've gathered around her hips. she's careful not to breathe out her relief in a streaming sigh where it fills her lungs, some of the tension unwinding from where it spools around her ribcage. ]

What do your notes say? [ curious eyes flit to the back of his tablet. there's nothing to be shown, there — and even if there was, she isn't so certain she could decipher it, regardless. ] Should I take a guess? "Patient asks too many questions. Status: annoying, but recovering."