far_beyond | Misa needs frands. Be her frand

Who: Misa... and peeps
What: Just hanging around
When: That one day
Where: Around the promenade, in the bar, hydroponics bay
Warnings: It's Misa, please keep that in mind. She's had a horrible life, and will bring it up nonchalantly. It's completely normal right?

Hydroponics Bay

Misa has found the hydroponics bay. If there's one thing she enjoys it's green growing things. They soothe her in ways that others can't. Mistress Habani had always wrinkled her nose at it, but Misa hadn't ever stepped out of line, even when all she'd wanted was to be surrounded by growing things.

Sitting under some type of plant, she works slowly on her dress, where the hem has torn just slightly. She doesn't look up when someone enters the bay. She continues stitching her hem. "Has our benefactor reappeared?" She asks, as they approach.

Quarks

"No, I want a Bothan peach." She's trying to get food.

"Unknown parameter." The computer replies.

Misa kicks the console. "It's a Bothan Peach you unresponsive, brainless droid!" She snaps. It's not that difficult!

"Can you give me candied Corellian strawberries?"

"Unknown parameter." She really hates those words and kicks the console again.

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

The scent of green, growing things drew her towards where she knew the hydroponics bay would be. Misa's scent intermingled with the air flowing through the room, the young girl's voice drifting soon after.

"No, he hasn't." she turns down one of the aisles to see Misa sitting and sewing on her dress.

"The systems here can probably make you some more garments if that one gets too worn out," she comments gently. Misa isn't the worst behaved child she's met, even if the girl's standards often came off rude. Children raised in luxurious trauma required a certain, aggravating level of kindness. Humanity doesn't deserve her care, and yet here she is, once again, feeling a certain sense of protectiveness towards her crew. Damn Q, Valdis doesn't have time to have feelings.

Misa sniffs. "Droid made clothing is inferior. I made this dress myself." She says it with pride and doesn't look up. She knows who is speaking, just by the way the air cools around the woman.

"I wonder why he just abandons us here." She muses, cutting her thread. "I wouldn't think it would be fun for him."

"Perhaps you are right about the Droid clothing, the dresses you make yourself are always more beautiful."

She settles cross-legged on the floor beneath what could pass as a rose, the fragrance seemed both familiar and foreign, but delicate and soothing all the same.

"I wish I knew," she sighs, reaching out to touch one of the flowers, drawing it closer to her, "But I'm not exactly disappointed. There's only so much excitement I want to deal with when it comes to keeping you all in one piece."

She'd recently failed at that, what with the amount of blood on Brigid, someone had died. Yet they were all still here, so Q had clearly undone that unfortunate event.

Edited (typoooooo) 2022-09-04 20:01 (UTC)

She looks up and cocks her head to the side. "Are you a guard back home?" She asks, innocently. It's an innocuous enough question in her opinion.

She sighs, and puts down the dress. The white dress flows out over her legs, the silk almost see-through. But there are many, many layers to it, and that offers her the modesty due her age.

She smiles a moment.

"I suppose some might have called me that."

But she had pursued the evil after death, not before, so this role Q had put her in is slightly different. Perhaps not so foreign though.

"I'm afraid I'm not the nicest person generally speaking, but we all pretend so we can survive in the world."

Time to change the subject.

"That is a lovely dress."

Not the nicest person? She is a little cold to be around, but that doesn't mean much. So is Jocko, and he loves her and she knows it. Maybe this woman would be a good person to act as her guard. But that is a discussion for when they know each other better.

"Thank you. Mistress Habani bought the fabric, but I made it." She doesn't mention the obvious imperfections that she can see. "It's part Ilmenian silk, and part Corellian cotton." She wonders if those worlds mean anything to her.

The mistress, like the girl couldn't think of anything else. Yet, Misa is the youngest on the station, trying to find her way in a new place without anything or anyone familiar, difficult for even an adult, much more a child.

"I'm afraid I'm not familiar with those particular kinds of material, and I haven't sewn in a long time, but perhaps if we can find some real fabric we can make you some new garments."

Whether Valdis wanted to be friendly or not, the girl needed more clothes, especially if Q decided to throw more at them. Clothes wore out and there was only so many repairs that could be made. Besides, it could be...fun.

The Mistress controls Misa's life, and her death. She knows it, and knows where her respect must lie. It doesn't help that Misa is still convinced that Q is going to sell her off.

Then, she sighs. "No one is familiar with those things. Not even the computer here." She shakes her head. "No one from my galaxy is here. There was a man the first day we were here, but he disappeared."

She doesn't know what happened to him.

"Real fabric?"

"Fabric not created by the computer," she clarifies.

If how Misa felt now was anything like how she herself felt upon waking all those years ago, lost, nothing and no one familiar, she can empathize. Even her brother had been a stranger. Luckily she adapts quickly, survival demands it, and if Misa cannot adapt, she could die, and might drag others to death with her. Valdis closes her eyes, patience with a child had to last longer than patience with anyone closer to her own age, or at least an adult.

"I'm assuming your fine tastes would be able to tell the difference."

She takes a breath.

"Since I'm not familiar with your home, why don't you tell me about it?"

Misa smiles. "Droids can make the fabric, though I would like some of the stuff from Naboo. Mistress says I am not ready for such an expense though." And Misa is fine with that. She's seen it and it both thrills and terrifies her to work with it.

"You can tell the difference, but sometimes it is impractical for people to make the fabrics."

She looks up and cocks her head to the side. "I don't know much outside of the house. Dina, Hurog and Karick are my courtesan friends. Dina has a baby, Kik, that I like to play with. Freema runs the kitchen," and it's Freema that Misa misses, as is obvious by the way her tone softens and so does her face. "Jocko is my guard. He's been with me since I was five." She says, softly. Her feet scuff against the ground slightly. "I... don't remember my blood relations, not really."

"I will work on getting you some decent fabric to work with then," Valdis replies, running her fingers along the stem of another rose.

She listens carefully to Misa as the girl reflects on her home, reading the emotions behind the words just as much as the words themselves. Nothing beyond the walls she grew up in, the few friends she was allowed to have...somehow it felt familiar.

"I don't remember much of my birth family either," she admits, "But you can't rely on family much in life, you only have yourself in the end."

She takes a breath, "Tell me more about Freema. I can tell you miss her."

Misa looks again at the cold, sad woman sitting near her. She can tell she likes the green growing things of this place. She likes them too, though they are different and strange compared to the ones at home.

"Freema, Jocko... they're the closest people I have to parents. They're... family." She says, softly. "And I don't believe that. I believe the family that chooses you, you can always count on."

She traces the embroidery on the dress's skirt. "Freema is... Freema. Her Basic isn't very good, but I can understand her, even when she gets frustrated with the servodroids." Her foot scuffs against the ground. "She's always taken care of me. She makes these tarts for me. Tarts made from Bothan Peaches and candied Corellian strawberries."

Misa seems to have grown at least a little more comfortable and less defensive with this line of questioning. She smiles a little when Misa talks about her found family, the family that she chose, or who chose her. The pain of losing a friend, or a found family is too much risk, it's better to go it alone, at least for herself.

"Those tarts sound delicious," she says, "Did Freema teach you the recipe?"

Misa is observant, something Valdis is sure served her well in her training, as distasteful as the girl's life is, as least she has friends to count on. One might say her team back in LA were friends...but she's dead to them now.

Misa needs frands. Be her frand

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