And so here we go bluebird, back to the sky on your own... Who: Ari & Damia What: Talking about flying away Where: The Aerodrome When: Backdated: May 7th Rating: Tame, actually Status: Complete
It was escapist, and she knew it. Aud would probably yell at her. Flynn would probably yell, with a side of cussing. Drake would… look sad.
(Aspel would probably ignore her, which was depressing; she didn’t want to think on that at all.)
Ari stood at the public transit counter and flipped through airship schedules for mid-Gemini. She would get through Romulus and Juliana, somehow (very possibly by the skin of her teeth; she had never done anything this emotionally exhausting). After that, she could just… go. Somewhere. Anywhere. The Kerwonian mountains were meant to be nice in summer. Or maybe Sako? She’d never been, but the food was good…
“Looking to fly away, songbird?” crooned a voice from behind her, soon to be followed by Damia leaning her hip against the counter next to her, a metal box of supplies cradled under one arm. Truthfully, she’d kept her distance from most people she knew, after the attack on the city, but it would be a lie to say she hadn’t missed her peahen just a little bit. “Weather’s finally nice enough to flap your wings.”
Ari looked up, surprised to see the other woman. She hadn’t spotted Damia in the Aerodrome since…
Well, not since before Bella had gone (sad though, one of too many, best not to dwell there). “I should ask you the same, gosling. Or are you thinking of a career change? The stage lost its allure at last?” The toolbox was far more suited to a machinist of some sort.
(And the question, she ignored -- though she wondered how long she would be granted the privilege of doing so.)
That the question hadn’t been answered didn’t escape Damia, but it didn’t show in her face as she sighed, dropping her gaze to the toolbox in hand. “The wrench calls to me. Imagine the adventures I’ll have, the sights I’ll see.”
Her eyes drew back to Ari’s face, searching for some sort of unspoken answer. “Flying away wouldn’t be so bad. I find it’s good to stretch your wings, sometimes.”
“A vacation does sound lovely, doesn’t it?” Ari said lightly. “I’ve been working too hard. Though I haven’t quite gotten to the point of tools conversing with me.” She shrugged. “That too may come. Any recommendations? For places to fly away to, that is, not for implements to speak with.”
The blonde leaned more of her weight into the counter, toolbox shifted in her grip. “Isn’t Ordalia always lovely? I suppose you could whisk yourself away to Kerwon, but all I know about Kerwon is their quality in whiskey,” she admitted, shrugging with one shoulder. “Valendia seems to be full of idiots, so I don’t recommend another city. Something coastal, for some sunshine after all that ridiculous snow.”
She tilted her head. “But go wherever you want, pigeon.”
“I’m sure I will, cockatiel,” Ari said. The trick, of course, was figuring out what she wanted. It ought to have been simple but… wasn’t.
When had her life become such a mess?
“Honestly,” she said, “I’m far more interested in what that wrench of yours has been telling you. Do enlighten me, won’t you? Are you planning to sign on to a crew and fly away yourself?”
Damia’s lips curled into a smile. “Isn’t that a nice idea? I couldn’t be away for too long, of course. How could I be away from my songbird for that long?”
Pushing from the counter, she righted herself. “As for signing onto a crew, it’s more like I may have a crew for myself soon enough.” If all went according to plan, but there was no fear of losing the ship anytime soon. No one was going to get in her way this time— no one.
“Really?” Now there was a curious enough distraction, just in time. She’d heard bits from Bella, though not too much -- thieves were a private sort, even with family. “Well then,” she said, “I do hope you realize I’m not stretching my wings to fly anywhere until you let me see.”
The tools clanked within their metal cage as Damia angled herself away, her smile a touch more genuine this time. Private though she might’ve been herself, her father’s ship was a source of pride that no one but another corsair could truly understand. No matter the shape it was in, it would always be something to cherish and be proud of.
“Might be I’ll let you ride her sometime,” she started, finally stepping past, “if you still want to get away. I could even let you sit in the captain’s seat if you’re good.” A satisfied smirk was directed over a shoulder. “Coming?”
“I’m coming,” Ari said, falling into step behind her. “And I’m always good, lovebird. As you very well know.”
The captain’s seat, now, that would be something to aspire to indeed. If she wheedled enough, maybe eventually she’d even be permitted to fly it.
Her mood greatly improved by the thought, she followed the corsair into the hangar.