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Onboard Moya...Somewhere
Mar. 4th, 2022 06:58 amTime had passed since they left Hyneria. Stark wasn’t sure how much. It was easy to lose track on the ship, even though Moya and Pilot were very good about keeping things to something resembling the rhythms of a standard solar day. Stark’s sleep remained irregular at best and that certainly didn’t help him with keeping track of the passage of times. A few weekens, maybe, had gone by since they’d left Rygel behind in his new-old empire. They received updates regularly and things seemed to be going well, surprising as that was to a group so used to things going spectacularly wrong at every opportunity. Jothee had returned to the Luxan army. There had been no news of Scorpius and no signs of the red-eyed man in black. Deke continued to grow, as Crichton said, like a weed. Noranti continued to try and push various concoctions on Stark who kept resisting both the powders she said would help him sleep better and the food she insisted he needed because he was growing too thin. Things were calm, for the moment.
The others had just finished a supply run on a commerce planet. Stark had stayed behind. He was sitting on the terrace, staring out at the stars, when Chiana found him. At some point he was going to realize the view in here reminded him of a trip in a much smaller ship with a full view of space but he hadn’t yet made the connection. Or maybe he just was actively avoiding acknowledging it.
“Sta-ark,” Chiana called out. “I’ve got a bottle of raslak with your name on it. More than one.”
“I’m not thirsty,” he said, not even turning to look.
“Don’t care. We’re getting you out of this mood you’re in somehow and if I have to pour the whole bottle down your throat I’ll do it.”
“That doesn’t help,” Stark protested. “I tried that. More than once. Summer tried. With sangria. Nothing helped.”
“You didn’t try getting drunk with me,” Chiana told him. “So that’s what we’re doing tonight. Drinking several bottles of good stuff I picked up and we can talk about how our lives are dren sometimes and we can talk about how frelling lonely we are.”
Stark sighed heavily as he stood and turned to face Chiana. “Are you all right?” It had been much longer for him since D’Argo died than it had been for Chiana. He knew that. And he remembered all too well how much it hurt to lose someone that way. His current hurt was different and newer and sharper but that didn’t mean he’d forgotten the other.
“‘Course not. It’s too quiet now that we aren’t having a crisis and watching you mope around makes me think too much, so now it’s time to stop thinking and start drinking. You’re my drinking buddy tonight.”
“I’m not very good company,” Stark said quietly. “That’s why I-”
“I’m not letting you sit here lonely by yourself when you could be sitting being lonely with me,” Chiana said. “Jothee’s gone, John and Aeryn are happy with their narl, Noranti’s fahrbot. You’re my best option.”
“I don’t think…”
“No thinking,” Chiana told him firmly. “Come on.”
( No thinking only drinking! )
[NFB because in space no squirrels can hear you...drink? At least you can drink in space. Could be open for calls/texts to the saddest alien but he might be a little distracted. Or drunk. Or both.]
The others had just finished a supply run on a commerce planet. Stark had stayed behind. He was sitting on the terrace, staring out at the stars, when Chiana found him. At some point he was going to realize the view in here reminded him of a trip in a much smaller ship with a full view of space but he hadn’t yet made the connection. Or maybe he just was actively avoiding acknowledging it.
“Sta-ark,” Chiana called out. “I’ve got a bottle of raslak with your name on it. More than one.”
“I’m not thirsty,” he said, not even turning to look.
“Don’t care. We’re getting you out of this mood you’re in somehow and if I have to pour the whole bottle down your throat I’ll do it.”
“That doesn’t help,” Stark protested. “I tried that. More than once. Summer tried. With sangria. Nothing helped.”
“You didn’t try getting drunk with me,” Chiana told him. “So that’s what we’re doing tonight. Drinking several bottles of good stuff I picked up and we can talk about how our lives are dren sometimes and we can talk about how frelling lonely we are.”
Stark sighed heavily as he stood and turned to face Chiana. “Are you all right?” It had been much longer for him since D’Argo died than it had been for Chiana. He knew that. And he remembered all too well how much it hurt to lose someone that way. His current hurt was different and newer and sharper but that didn’t mean he’d forgotten the other.
“‘Course not. It’s too quiet now that we aren’t having a crisis and watching you mope around makes me think too much, so now it’s time to stop thinking and start drinking. You’re my drinking buddy tonight.”
“I’m not very good company,” Stark said quietly. “That’s why I-”
“I’m not letting you sit here lonely by yourself when you could be sitting being lonely with me,” Chiana said. “Jothee’s gone, John and Aeryn are happy with their narl, Noranti’s fahrbot. You’re my best option.”
“I don’t think…”
“No thinking,” Chiana told him firmly. “Come on.”
( No thinking only drinking! )
[NFB because in space no squirrels can hear you...drink? At least you can drink in space. Could be open for calls/texts to the saddest alien but he might be a little distracted. Or drunk. Or both.]