( open ) everything else was just remembering.

[wising]

It isn't a feeling Sarah is used to anymore.

Boredom.

It has been a long, long time since she's been able to stand still, and she finds, more often than not, she does not know what to do with this stillness. Being on the ship means having an imposed vacation from her real life and her real problems, and while she can't say she's entirely against that - it also feels like hiding. Pretending. Waiting can be more excruciating than having no time at all, and Sarah would know. For the first eighteen years of her life, she thought she wouldn't have the time to wait.

Now she has it to spare, and she is reacquainting herself with pleasures she's forgotten; watching old school movies while indulging in chocolates and staying up late into the night to watch the stars. These pleasures are age-worn in her memory, like a picture that is fading. She also finds, like most people do, some things are like riding a bike. A sketchpad and charcoal pencils have been located, and the rest becomes simple.

There is a bar by the pool and there is a fallen angel by the bar. She holds the sketchpad in one hand and the charcoal pencil in the other, like she is remembering.

She will offer to draw a face portrait to anyone who is interested, like she did the first day she ever arrived to Chicago.

There's a symmetry to that.


( ooc: prose or spam, i will match you! )

Comments

[therewillbelight]

He's been on this ship for five days now, by his reckoning. Enough time to figure out there's no going back through that door on his own. To also figure out that bashing the door, or putting his shoulder to it, or trying to shoot the lock, will not get him anywhere either.

He's had time to find his room. To get settled in. To explore the ship a bit.

But there's one thing that no amount of time will cure: his drive to do things, fix things. He's got a city at a tipping point that he's trying to save, and he's stuck on a cruise ship.

Jim Gordon is not pleased about this.

He's at a loss for anything better to do at the moment, so he decides to take in some air. There's a pool out on the deck and there's a bar near the pool. He gets a beer, the glass bottle already sweating as he drops into a chair.

There's a lady sketching a few chairs away. He hasn't invaded her space or anything like that, but he's too much an officer/gentleman/good cop/good man to just ignore her either. When she looks up he offers a polite smile, and a nod of his head. "Afternoon."

[wising]

Sarah bites back a helpless smile.

She caught him wandering the deck long before he noticed her, and the restlessness is something she can sympathize with. More importantly, she lived in Chicago long enough she's able to distinguish new wanderers from old wanderers.

"Afternoon," she says back in a soft, friendly voice. She taps the pencil on the sketchpad idly and arches a knowing brow. "Newbie?"

She's not having fun at your expense, Jim. Really.

[therewillbelight]

He huffs, the sound nearly but not quite a chuckle. "That obvious, huh?"

Though he supposes, given time to settle in, a person with an observant eye would start to pick that up. She's an artist, he's guessing; observant.

He smiles again. "I'm Jim Gordon. Just got here. You?"

[wising]

The tiniest smirk curves on her lips. "A little bit."

She stretches out her hand in a congenial sort of way. "Sarah Monroe, at your service." She is not actually at anyone's service on this boat, but it's a habit by now. "I've been hauled in and out of this place more times than I care to count. It's been... about a year? I want to say it's a year, but time has a way of blurring together here."

[therewillbelight]

"In and out?"

Pardon him. It's just that he's all about the details, and he's heard one there that gives him hope. He turns to more fully face her.

"You can go back?"

[undermyfeet]

Alexander can draw. He doesn't do it often, mostly because when it comes to art, he's mostly had it become associated with work, and that's not exactly fun. But when he sees Sarah sitting at the bar, he can't help but slide his way over, just out of curiosity, to see what she's working on. He doesn't say anything at first, just sort of dips his head just slightly over the top of the sketchpad, before glancing up to her.

"You're pretty good."

[wising]

"Thanks. I'm a little bit rusty," she says easily, glancing up at him with a curious smile. "You draw?"

In her experience, those that are looking to start earnest conversation when she is sketching are either art enthusiasts or artists themselves. Which means it's someone that Sarah wants to meet.

[undermyfeet]

"I dabble." Which is really more what it is. He's not an artist, not in the way that she is. He can see the hints of artistry lurking under the edges. "My dad taught me to draw when I was a kid."

[wising]

"Yeah?" Sarah glances up at him, a tiny smile on her face. No one ever really taught Sarah to love art. She discovered fingerpainting by accident, and she never let it go. "Was he an artist, too?"

[undermyfeet]

" ... Sort of." A lot of people in their particular community would probably consider him one, but not in the way that Sarah means. "He mostly did a lot of ... reproductions?"

Aka Forgeries. For those paying attention.

[altor]

Waiting, is usually something Nathaniel is very good at. It takes him a long time before he falls into boredom. But this place, it's a whole different world and the itch of worry won't quite go away. He spends most of his days waiting at the door on the deck, waiting for it to reopen so her can get back to his mother. While highly regarded, Firsts are getting into more and more danger lately. Some demons trying to tip the balance, that age-old eternal battle raging on.

But just once, he's tired of waiting by the door. His duties to his mother are a huge part of his life, but when he's sitting around doing nothing... it's getting too much now. He needs to do something. Or at least have some kind of social contact with someone.

Bars are usually a good place to start.

Ordering something with plenty ice because damn this warm weather today, he squints slightly across the bar at the kid, well... she looks like a kid compared to him, with some sketching supplies in her hands. Huh. Interesting. He's not artistic in any way, but he'll take an interest. It's a good enough place to start, right?

"Drawin' anything interestin'?" he asks across the bar.

[wising]

"Not yet," Sarah answers with a sly smile, glancing over at him with a friendly smile. "But the day's still young."

She's a lot more grown up than she used to be, and that means she's a tad bit more open, as well. She'll always be an introvert, but she has gotten way better at striking up conversation with people whether she knows them or not.

And in a boat like this one, there aren't a whole lot of other options to keep yourself entertained.

[altor]

Nathaniel nods quietly. "True." he agrees. "Very true."

He doesn't mind so much. He's a man of few words unless the moment needs it, so he can be easy when it comes to striking up conversations. He never pushes it, but simply enjoys it for what it is.

He takes a small sip of the whiskey in the glass and falls silent for a few moments. Who cares if it's early, he's probably earned it all things considered. Then, he quietly pulls a pack of cigarettes from his pocket and lights up before silently offering the pack to her. He doesn't know if she smokes or not, but the offers there.

"What sorta thing you lookin' for?"

[wising]

Sarah smiles a tiny bit, and shakes her head in negative.

She doesn't smoke, but she knew someone who did, a very long time ago. It's why the sight of the cigarette makes her smile. Glancing down at her notepad, she contemplates the question. "... Actually, I'm looking for people who wouldn't mind if I did portraits of them. You interested?" she asks, lifting up her charcoal pencil and tapping it lightly against her cheek.

He seems like an interesting man, one who has many stories to tell or conceal. It means she'd like to sketch him.

[altor]

Nathaniel nods in reply and shoves the pack back in his back pocket. He's quiet for a while, alternating between taking drags and shorts of his whiskey. It's very calming, calm being something he hasn't been in a long time. It's strange and comforting all at the same time.

He pauses for a moment, thinking it over. He points to himself. "This face?" he's actually amused. Ah, hell. He'll humour her. She seems like a nice kid, so why the hell not? He chuckles and moves down the bar to side beside her. "Sure, no one's ever drawn me before. Could be fun."

He is certainly a man of stories, he never conceals them, but just rarely talks of them.

But first, introductions. "Nathaniel." he says, offering a hand.

[wemadeit]

Here is Helen. Helen is ninja-ing up on you Sarah because she hasn't seen you in a while and hi. No but seriously. It's been a while since she met her, and she thought she was pretty damn nice. Helen likes nice people. Well, she likes people in general, but nice people especially. So Helen wants to follow that up and see how's she's doing.

Anyways.

After much ninja-ing about, she suddenly appears at Sarah's side, grinning brightly.

"Hi!"

Then, she peers down at her sketchpad. "Oooh." She likes to doodle, but wow. Sarah is damn good at drawing. "So, are you like a professional artist or somethin'? How long did it take you to get good like that? How are you, by the way, hi. It's Helen, in case you forgot, but it's totally okay because I haven't seen you in aaaaages."

The narration is so sorry, Sarah.

[wising]

Sarah laughs at the enthusiastic greeting.

Helen is like a bubbly ray of light on this ship, and Sarah isn't going to turn down the opportunity to talk to her again. "Hi. I remember you, Helen. I remember everyone I meet." She prides herself on the kind of memory she has, considering. Her smile widens, glancing down at the sketchbook before shaking her head over at Helen.

"Nope. Not a professional. I wanted to be one for a very long time, though."

She arches her eyebrow in faux mystery. "Want me to draw you a portrait?"

[wemadeit]

Helen grins brightly. "You do? Awesome!" Because being remembered by people you only met once a long time ago is awesome, okay? "That's a real nifty gift to have. Never forgettin' a face."

Well, it is.

Slinging herself down on the seat next to her, she tilts her head to the side and frowns slightly. "How come you didn't just go for it if you wanted to be one for so long?" she asks.

Settling herself on the seat, she laughs a little. "Me? Seriously?"

[wising]

Sarah tilts her head, considering the question. "You know... life just kept getting in the way. Which I know can sound like an excuse, but when you're from Chicago..." her voice trails off fondly. Not all of her memories of the city are fond, but the overall sentiment is. There was a time when she loved and hated Chicago in equal measure.

Now all that's left is a bittersweet sort of nostalgia.

"And of course you. You have very lovely eyes. They're old soul."

[eluding]

It's been a hundred years or so since Ethan was in Chicago.

He's traveled to different worlds and different times with the Doctor in the TARDIS. He's learned and grown, knows now how to let go and to move forward and to not think of himself as destruction. Ethan can only barely remember this ship. It's been a very long time, but he still recognizes Sarah immediately.

Ethan doesn't know if she'll recognize him. He knows about different universes, different versions of people. However, he sees that she is far older than she was when he knew her, and there's both an ache (at what she had to have gone through to get here) and an intense sense of relief (because how beautiful it is to see her looking so much older when the world told her it wasn't possible.

the world tells them very many different things. that they're destruction and death. that they're trouble. that they're not worth it. the world is wrong).

"What are you drawing?"

It's asked as he steps up toward the bar.

[wising]

Unfortunately, Sarah will not recognize most of anyone.

There's only one person she would find familiar, should they ever find their way across the ship, and his name is Adam Hale. She hasn't caught the familiar scent of cigarettes and whiskey, however, so she isn't getting her hopes up. It's been a long, long time since she saw Adam. He gave up his freedom so she could have hers, and it's something she will never forget.

"I'm not sure yet," she answers Ethan, lifting her gaze up. There isn't recognition, but it's friendly, if not subdued.

"Maybe I'm waiting for inspiration to strike."

[eluding]

WAILS, this makes the narration want to throw Adam at her too. HE IS ON THE SHIP.

Ethan sees the lack of recognition in her expression, and he keeps the smile on his face which is also subdued but friendly, genuine. It is good to see her even if she doesn't know who he is. It's especially good to see her as old as she is, knowing she lived past what the books would say she could live to.

He also knows what that means and what a loss that must be in a way no one but her will ever know and feel but it is good to see her, living, breathing, with a sketch book in hand and a smile on her face even if that smile is subdued.

"There's quite a lot to be inspired about on the ship so it shouldn't be very long," he says with a sideways smile. "Are you new?"

[wising]

"Sort of?"

She realizes that answer might be a tad confusing, so she elaborates. She really is better than she used to be at striking up conversations with strangers. Or what she thinks is a stranger. "It's not my first time on the ship, but I haven't been here long the second time around. Maybe a couple of days? The door won't budge, though."

And she's already tried everything; she knows that door ain't budging until it wants to.

i'm not crazy late oh god i'm sorry but i think i need this cr

[excerptus]

Ollie doesn't drink. And he's not an artist. But he's never felt a presence like Sarah's before, ever.

It's not rare that Ollie's curiosity overpowers his painful shyness, but it is the only thing that ever wins out over it. Still, despite being shy and a teetotaler, he likes to hang around the bar. It offers a respite from the kind of loneliness he's felt since he turned 9 years old, and 10 years of loneliness gives a guy enough time to figure out how to mitigate it.

Here on the ship, the bustling bar usually suffices. He doesn't have to talk to anyone. Until now.

"Are you uh, are you an artist?" Kind of a dumb question and when he asks, it's probably too far away from Sarah to not be awkward. But he got nervous and didn't want to seem creepy. So he also offers a small wave in greeting, without realizing that he just kicked the awkward up another notch.

oh my god ilu

[wising]

They have several things in common, it would seem.

When Sarah was a teenager, she was painfully awkward. She never knew how to finish conversations, which usually led to abrupt exits before it made sense to leave. She's a far cry from that teenager now. The years have blurred together, but the result is someone who isn't afraid to look a person in the eye now, for fear of what she'll see.

Embracing death meant she was, never more, afraid of the gift it has given her.

She waves back at him, a tiny smile that's meant to be encouraging. "Y'know, I'm never sure how to answer that question. What makes someone an artist?"