Ashley Knowlton (pages_of_ash) wrote in expresslogs, @ 2012-08-26 22:24:00 |
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Things weren't getting any better. They weren't getting much worse, but ... she was still having trouble really settling in. She couldn't get the homesickness to pass, and the harder she tried, the more she thought about people from home. Mostly Richard, but Fletcher was there too, and the rest of them. Her crew. Even their contacts ... she'd be happy to see anyone from home. She had tried to talk to Doctor Tam, briefly, but that was a conversation that had gone no where fast. Restless, Ashley tried to read. Then she tried to watch the scenery. Then she thought about being social before deciding she was going to be one of those people that, despite her best efforts, just crashed the conversation. So she turned to the only thing she knew how to do when she was feeling anti-social: target practice. The baggage car had yielded some bullets that fit her guns, so she'd taken a box of those and made her way to the back car. It took her over a dozen tries to get a suitable room, but once she had one she let herself into it. Unsure how the car worked, she used the stopper she found near the door to prop it open. She did worry a little about the sounds carrying out, but ... not enough to not do it. Ash loaded her guns, sliding one back into the holster before she aimed the other one at the target. It was simple, round target, but it was solid and a decent distance away. Aiming carefully, she began to fire off shots toward it. Even here though, the memories refused to be quelled. Her brothers, first teaching her how to shoot with their BB gun, and then gifting her with a pistol of her own when she turned fifteen. Her mother had hit the roof, but her father had helped her learn how to use it. They started teaching her blade-play when she was fifteen and a half, and she was good at that, too. She remembered the first time she'd killed a man. It hadn't made her sick, or numb, or any of the things it probably should have made her. It was a simple fact of life. Kill or be killed -- and he'd been out to kill her. Once she'd shot both guns out, Ash reloaded them and tucked them away before she moved down the range to examine the target. Not bad, but she could do better. It was enough to make her realize she really needed to keep in practice -- just like she would on the ship. Exhaling, Ash moved around the room, leaning up against the wall as she stared toward the target, contemplating the layout of the bullet holes as if that was somehow going to explain the meaning of life. |