I ride my bike, I roller skate, don't drive no car Don't go too fast but I go pretty far For somebody who don't drive, I've been all around the world Some people say I done all right for a girl.
( she'd made certain to voice her complaints about having missy in the tardis initially, though having her locked out of the controls had been somewhat satisfying. as had the maintenance that the time lord had provided, something that her own madman was sometimes lax on. for all that the master had hurt her siblings, she did at least know how to properly care for a tardis.
when missy returns the circumstances are very different. her doctor has regenerated again and missy--
she's gentler, not exactly trying to soothe but sexy knows time lords well after all of these years. oh, she may only really be familiar with one but over seven hundred years and you learn a few other things -- she does have all of time and space at her grasp. the sounds she'd made in complaint at missy's presence are absent this time and, on occasion, she'll even make an appreciate sound at the maintenance that missy gives to her.
it leads, after a few weeks of this, to one night when the doctor is out. she activates the holographic interface, something that he'd always tried to make work with her after their physical meeting, something that she'd always pretended didn't work, letting that same image of the woman appear before missy )
Why did you come back?
( she knows the conversations that missy and her doctor have had but there's always been something else -- there always is something else with this time lord. she's pieced together parts of it, the physical aspects but it didn't tell her a reason, the choice that was made )
[missy is up to her elbows in maintenance even now. she talks a lot of nonsense about the doctor getting free labour. in fact, it's a win for everyone. the TARDIS gets some itches scratched and missy gets to use her brain. they all know it's nothing that really needs doing, but everyone has those odd jobs they've been meaning to get around to for centuries. she only turned away to swap out a ganymede driver for a multi-quantiscope, but when she spins back on her heel, she finds herself face to face with the holographic representation of the TARDIS consciousness.]
Oh!
[she looks sexy up and down, briefly lost in trying to solve the puzzle of the lady-apparation. much of the energy that was once concentrated over there is now over here; a difference as perceptible as a drop in air pressure. it occurs to her that, on a sensory level, she's no less or more alone than she was a minute ago.]
Oh, it's you. [it would be awkward to stick a hand in someone's guts without a word. they do communicate while missy works. not like this, though. this is very direct and wholly unexpected.]
How've you done that? [as questions go, it's probably not important. one of those things that a time lord will answer for themselves if the TARDIS leaves them to it. sexy asked missy a question too, and that one does want an answer. so far, she hasn't done anything with it.]
( she doesn't object to the redirection of conversation, her own consciousness doesn't particularly travel in a linear fashion, something that the doctor had discovered himself with her when they'd spoken for that moment. when she'd been alive. she's confident that they'll circle back around, accepting a question and answer in a different direction first. it isn't offensive and really it is surprising, something she'd kept from the doctor in all those intervening years. it says something that she's activated it now )
I'm still in the TARDIS.
( unlike before. there are many parts that she doesn't fully offer but things that missy could likely interpret herself -- the host before had been human, the consciousness had been removed from the tardis. this, if missy does stick out her hand, she'll find is just a hologram, just particles forming an image )
( she'd left it a couple of days after their initial conversation before agreeing to meet him and whilst she could likely spin him a tale about timings of the moon really it was that perhaps she had a few other things to do first. one of those being seeing what her own little birds had to say. what stolas could find for her. and the bird did well.
it makes him easy to locate when she arrives at the pub, ignoring the glances of anyone else that may be there, taking her steps to him. and perhaps lilith isn't what he expect as she walks in, dressed far differently than the typical ideas of a witch may conjure to the imagination, dark waves thrown down her back and even how she holds herself is of someone with class, teaching. money.
it's only when she stops by him that she finally speaks, her accent certainly not that of someone around here but even someone well-travelled would find it hard to place where she's from )
Mr Shelby.
( she'd gotten an idea of when he'd be in the bar from stolas, able to easily find him even without having set a date and time for their meeting. she wants to see how he responds to something slightly more unexpected. which is everything about her )
[in its own symbolistic fashion, small heath does evoke the christian idea of hell. it's home to a great many miserable and anguished souls, living under the yoke of relentless industry. their labours never seem to end. at all hours, metal clangs and sparks fly. the buildings and lanes are in a state of abject squalor, illuminated at unpredictable intervals by industrial processes belching smoke and spewing flames. some days, the ash from the furnaces blankets everything like snow. it can be hard to keep time without a watch, or tell clouds apart from pollution. everyone doing well for themselves in a place like this is inevitably characterised as a devil. tommy shelby in particular. he's a devil among devils.
the atmosphere is somewhat more convival inside the pub, but not by much. the overlapping chatter doesn't die down around lilith. not everyone turns to look at her from the moment she walks in, but plenty of them do. there's at least one pair of eyes on her at every table. most women would find this specific type of attention uncomfortable, if not overtly menacing.
thanks to stolas, lilith knows who she's looking for. even if she didn't, tommy wouldn't be hard to pick out. he's stood with his left arm along the bar, leaning his weight in. there's bottle of irish whiskey set out in front of him. he has a glass in his right hand and a smoke between the selfsame fingers. he cuts a lonely figure. there are plenty of patrons in the pub, but none are willing to stand too close on either side of him. that leaves room for her, doesn't it?]
Madam Wardwell.
[he looks up only after he's greeted. nonchalant, yet as self-assured as a king holding court. it's a rapid process of elimination for him. there's no one else he'd talked about meeting whom he wouldn't recognise on sight. she isn't anything like he'd imagined. he'd imagined an old crone. she certainly isn't that. she looks far too elegant to end up telling fortunes in a place like this, to a man like him.
for what it's worth, he is impressed to have his routine found out. she couldn't have asked someone where he'd be and when. no one who knows him would dare to give him away. local people keep their mouths shut. they don't talk about his family's comings and goings, unless the talking is to warn others.]
Will you have a drink? I'd like to think you didn't choose the Garrison just for my benefit.
[if she's not going to avail herself of what a pub has to offer, that would make him wonder why she chose to do this here at all. there's a more private area to move to, but he thinks it best to offer her some hospitality first.]
( though she smiles the warmth that would normally be found in such a smile isn't there, it being simply polite. though she does give a nod to the bartender who's hovering nearby, accepting the glass from him and sliding it towards tommy.
despite the fact that they're still being watched lilith appears completely oblivious to it as if she hasn't noticed. she has, she often draws attention where she goes, either for her appearance or how she carries herself but rather than be disturbed by it she lets it fuel her, drawing power from the appreciation (and fear) )
We do have an appointment after all.
( she lifts the glass to drink when it's slid back, an act as if they're old acquaintances sharing a drink, or regular business rather than the strangers that they are )
( she hadn't been able to leave him to die. despite her apprehensions, her wish for enjoying that simple life and even picard's wishes for them to stay at the vineyard she'd insisted on coming with him. someone needed to keep him safe and she had knowledge of the tal shiar that he could never dream to have, something that would help to protect him.
and apparently his growing crew.
she'd been in her room when the latest passenger had come aboard, moving towards the bridge when the ship had rocked, expecting danger, cautious of romulans-- and had found an unconscious woman there. she'd helped get her to another room, doing her own scans despite the medical hologram's work, promising picard that she'd keep an eye on her. she'd replicated some tea, rechecking the scans every so often in between reading and watching.
and then, hearing the slightest sound of movement, she looks up, moving over to her )
Oh good, you're awake. The Admiral had been very concerned.
( it honestly hadn't been that long but why not add some dramatic sarcasm )
[ her eidetic memory supplies her with a vivid recap of the crippling blow that sent her ship tumbling headlong toward the net of the planetary defense system. she's awake. she's just taking a second to review what happened before opening her eyes to an unfamiliar room. ]
I'm fine.
[ some people, like seven, are prideful enough to say that before they really know if it's true. she sits up quickly, as if that's going to satisfy the admiral's alleged concern.
to confirm for herself, seven reaches—with her left hand, covered in an exoskeletal mesh—to touch the side of her forehead. it's the same side where a bleeding wound used to be. she doesn't remember receiving treatment, but the damage was obviously repaired while she was unconscious. she gets the impression that this softly-accented romulan woman has been in the room with her for some time. ]
You're the ship's doctor?
[ la sirena's emergency medical hologram doesn't take the bait and correct the misunderstanding. (seven knows an emergency medical hologram who would.) there's nothing secret about the borg nanoprobes in her bloodstream, and nothing subtle about the remaining implants tied to her vital functions, but she'd still prefer not to be scanned for anything other than medical reasons. ]
( though aside from the emergency hologram she was probably as good as it. somehow. she had basic medical knowledge and the fact that this woman had originally been human was helpful there, though healing a cut was something anyone could do )
I volunteered to watch over you whilst you were unconscious.
( though not really out of concern for her wellbeing )
[ and that's what she's choosing to comment on? it's not even phrased as a question, it's just a statement of fact. seven's beyond irritated. she's livid. ]
( everything went to plan. somehow. it could have failed in many ways between picard's awful spy attempt and seven of nine's plan-- she'd managed to talk her down, quiet words in romulan that only she'd understand promising to help her after.
they'd gotten back to the ship. she'd gotten her back to the planet, slipping her the pattern enhancer to her. it was only a few minutes before it was activated, all according to plan, laris beaming her back and the logs for both transports already deleted )
I still have the wine.
( it's a gentle olive branch, an offer not to talk but to sit in quiet understanding. she knew what it was like to be stabbed in the back, had the scars as proof of it. though she'd never had a child to lose laris felt for her and even though she'd not trusted her, part of her still not wanting to, she understood. and she accepted some of her secrecy now.
she doesn't wait for seven to respond before walking away. either the woman will follow her to drink or she'll choose her own path )
[ seven materializes empty-handed on the transporter pad, having thrown down the rifles only seconds ago. the discharge of directed energy weapons lingers in the fabric of her clothes. she is undamaged. her chest heaves with one deep breath and then another, having a very human adrenaline response for someone with a reinforced cardiopulmonary system.
she directs a blank look at laris. a superficial acknowledgement at best. stepping down from the platform, she circles around to the display of the transporter console. she steps up alongside the romulan woman with no regard for her personal space, the exact same way she used to push in on other people's workstations on voyager. metal-capped fingers fly over the controls, meaning to erase the transporter logs herself, only to discover that it's already done.
it's then that she regards laris fully, very much as though seeing her for the first time. her neutral expression cedes ground to gratitude and appreciation.
on this ship, not everyone is well-suited to subterfuge. laris was in her element. when seven made it known that her intention was to kill bjayzl, laris spoke to her in a rarefied romulan dialect. seven's never heard it aloud before today. that was quick thinking.
she nods, accepting the olive branch when it's offered. she trails half a step behind. there's nothing more to say until there's a wine glass in front of her. ]
Thank you.
[ the timing obfuscates whether she's thanking laris for pouring the wine or for everything before. ]
I didn't expect you to forgive me for allowing my personal objective to interfere with Picard's mission.
( she was tired of the war, they all were and the frustrating part that neither side was making progress, locked in a constant stalemate. for every move they made it was countered, a constant stepping forward and backwards and the only thing that changed was the body count. that was the part that lydia hated the most, the part that had gotten her talking to the widow. this was something that couldn't continue and the woman had agreed.
it had been a long conversation, no easy answers or solutions to any of it but they'd come up with something that they believed could be a start in forming a truce, something to take to the other side, to find an agreement. not terms but what they were willing to give up, some to be compromised on and others not.
lydia had ridden out to the checkpoint, nathaniel with her for safety. there'd be questions as to why the widow wasn't here herself but there was a simple answer -- this was her suggestion, one created together and whilst minerva was the landholder everyone knew how close lydia had her ear. how they worked in partnership.
when she'd been met, showing her papers to the guards they'd led her into the lands, taking her to the baron. nathaniel had been disamed, though they'd missed what lay hidden in his hand, the two in whispers until the doors opened again )
Baron Shelby.
( she offers a half-smile, formal and polite, a nod in greeting to him )
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( meme round-up )
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Don't go too fast but I go pretty far
For somebody who don't drive, I've been all around the world
Some people say I done all right for a girl.
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when missy returns the circumstances are very different. her doctor has regenerated again and missy--
she's gentler, not exactly trying to soothe but sexy knows time lords well after all of these years. oh, she may only really be familiar with one but over seven hundred years and you learn a few other things -- she does have all of time and space at her grasp. the sounds she'd made in complaint at missy's presence are absent this time and, on occasion, she'll even make an appreciate sound at the maintenance that missy gives to her.
it leads, after a few weeks of this, to one night when the doctor is out. she activates the holographic interface, something that he'd always tried to make work with her after their physical meeting, something that she'd always pretended didn't work, letting that same image of the woman appear before missy )
Why did you come back?
( she knows the conversations that missy and her doctor have had but there's always been something else -- there always is something else with this time lord. she's pieced together parts of it, the physical aspects but it didn't tell her a reason, the choice that was made )
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Oh!
[she looks sexy up and down, briefly lost in trying to solve the puzzle of the lady-apparation. much of the energy that was once concentrated over there is now over here; a difference as perceptible as a drop in air pressure. it occurs to her that, on a sensory level, she's no less or more alone than she was a minute ago.]
Oh, it's you. [it would be awkward to stick a hand in someone's guts without a word. they do communicate while missy works. not like this, though. this is very direct and wholly unexpected.]
How've you done that? [as questions go, it's probably not important. one of those things that a time lord will answer for themselves if the TARDIS leaves them to it. sexy asked missy a question too, and that one does want an answer. so far, she hasn't done anything with it.]
I didn't know you had it in you. Love the hair.
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( she doesn't object to the redirection of conversation, her own consciousness doesn't particularly travel in a linear fashion, something that the doctor had discovered himself with her when they'd spoken for that moment. when she'd been alive. she's confident that they'll circle back around, accepting a question and answer in a different direction first. it isn't offensive and really it is surprising, something she'd kept from the doctor in all those intervening years. it says something that she's activated it now )
I'm still in the TARDIS.
( unlike before. there are many parts that she doesn't fully offer but things that missy could likely interpret herself -- the host before had been human, the consciousness had been removed from the tardis. this, if missy does stick out her hand, she'll find is just a hologram, just particles forming an image )
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( she can't physically get there but text entertainment in the vault? why not )
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[she sees him less often than she'd like, but she's never, ever snitched—well, not to anyone who matters.]
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( she'd left it a couple of days after their initial conversation before agreeing to meet him and whilst she could likely spin him a tale about timings of the moon really it was that perhaps she had a few other things to do first. one of those being seeing what her own little birds had to say. what stolas could find for her. and the bird did well.
it makes him easy to locate when she arrives at the pub, ignoring the glances of anyone else that may be there, taking her steps to him. and perhaps lilith isn't what he expect as she walks in, dressed far differently than the typical ideas of a witch may conjure to the imagination, dark waves thrown down her back and even how she holds herself is of someone with class, teaching. money.
it's only when she stops by him that she finally speaks, her accent certainly not that of someone around here but even someone well-travelled would find it hard to place where she's from )
Mr Shelby.
( she'd gotten an idea of when he'd be in the bar from stolas, able to easily find him even without having set a date and time for their meeting. she wants to see how he responds to something slightly more unexpected. which is everything about her )
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the atmosphere is somewhat more convival inside the pub, but not by much. the overlapping chatter doesn't die down around lilith. not everyone turns to look at her from the moment she walks in, but plenty of them do. there's at least one pair of eyes on her at every table. most women would find this specific type of attention uncomfortable, if not overtly menacing.
thanks to stolas, lilith knows who she's looking for. even if she didn't, tommy wouldn't be hard to pick out. he's stood with his left arm along the bar, leaning his weight in. there's bottle of irish whiskey set out in front of him. he has a glass in his right hand and a smoke between the selfsame fingers. he cuts a lonely figure. there are plenty of patrons in the pub, but none are willing to stand too close on either side of him. that leaves room for her, doesn't it?]
Madam Wardwell.
[he looks up only after he's greeted. nonchalant, yet as self-assured as a king holding court. it's a rapid process of elimination for him. there's no one else he'd talked about meeting whom he wouldn't recognise on sight. she isn't anything like he'd imagined. he'd imagined an old crone. she certainly isn't that. she looks far too elegant to end up telling fortunes in a place like this, to a man like him.
for what it's worth, he is impressed to have his routine found out. she couldn't have asked someone where he'd be and when. no one who knows him would dare to give him away. local people keep their mouths shut. they don't talk about his family's comings and goings, unless the talking is to warn others.]
Will you have a drink? I'd like to think you didn't choose the Garrison just for my benefit.
[if she's not going to avail herself of what a pub has to offer, that would make him wonder why she chose to do this here at all. there's a more private area to move to, but he thinks it best to offer her some hospitality first.]
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( though she smiles the warmth that would normally be found in such a smile isn't there, it being simply polite. though she does give a nod to the bartender who's hovering nearby, accepting the glass from him and sliding it towards tommy.
despite the fact that they're still being watched lilith appears completely oblivious to it as if she hasn't noticed. she has, she often draws attention where she goes, either for her appearance or how she carries herself but rather than be disturbed by it she lets it fuel her, drawing power from the appreciation (and fear) )
We do have an appointment after all.
( she lifts the glass to drink when it's slid back, an act as if they're old acquaintances sharing a drink, or regular business rather than the strangers that they are )
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and apparently his growing crew.
she'd been in her room when the latest passenger had come aboard, moving towards the bridge when the ship had rocked, expecting danger, cautious of romulans-- and had found an unconscious woman there. she'd helped get her to another room, doing her own scans despite the medical hologram's work, promising picard that she'd keep an eye on her. she'd replicated some tea, rechecking the scans every so often in between reading and watching.
and then, hearing the slightest sound of movement, she looks up, moving over to her )
Oh good, you're awake. The Admiral had been very concerned.
( it honestly hadn't been that long but why not add some dramatic sarcasm )
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I'm fine.
[ some people, like seven, are prideful enough to say that before they really know if it's true. she sits up quickly, as if that's going to satisfy the admiral's alleged concern.
to confirm for herself, seven reaches—with her left hand, covered in an exoskeletal mesh—to touch the side of her forehead. it's the same side where a bleeding wound used to be. she doesn't remember receiving treatment, but the damage was obviously repaired while she was unconscious. she gets the impression that this softly-accented romulan woman has been in the room with her for some time. ]
You're the ship's doctor?
[ la sirena's emergency medical hologram doesn't take the bait and correct the misunderstanding. (seven knows an emergency medical hologram who would.) there's nothing secret about the borg nanoprobes in her bloodstream, and nothing subtle about the remaining implants tied to her vital functions, but she'd still prefer not to be scanned for anything other than medical reasons. ]
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( though aside from the emergency hologram she was probably as good as it. somehow. she had basic medical knowledge and the fact that this woman had originally been human was helpful there, though healing a cut was something anyone could do )
I volunteered to watch over you whilst you were unconscious.
( though not really out of concern for her wellbeing )
He'll be glad to see that you're awake.
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You were six when you were assimilated.
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[ and that's what she's choosing to comment on? it's not even phrased as a question, it's just a statement of fact. seven's beyond irritated. she's livid. ]
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they'd gotten back to the ship. she'd gotten her back to the planet, slipping her the pattern enhancer to her. it was only a few minutes before it was activated, all according to plan, laris beaming her back and the logs for both transports already deleted )
I still have the wine.
( it's a gentle olive branch, an offer not to talk but to sit in quiet understanding. she knew what it was like to be stabbed in the back, had the scars as proof of it. though she'd never had a child to lose laris felt for her and even though she'd not trusted her, part of her still not wanting to, she understood. and she accepted some of her secrecy now.
she doesn't wait for seven to respond before walking away. either the woman will follow her to drink or she'll choose her own path )
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she directs a blank look at laris. a superficial acknowledgement at best. stepping down from the platform, she circles around to the display of the transporter console. she steps up alongside the romulan woman with no regard for her personal space, the exact same way she used to push in on other people's workstations on voyager. metal-capped fingers fly over the controls, meaning to erase the transporter logs herself, only to discover that it's already done.
it's then that she regards laris fully, very much as though seeing her for the first time. her neutral expression cedes ground to gratitude and appreciation.
on this ship, not everyone is well-suited to subterfuge. laris was in her element. when seven made it known that her intention was to kill bjayzl, laris spoke to her in a rarefied romulan dialect. seven's never heard it aloud before today. that was quick thinking.
she nods, accepting the olive branch when it's offered. she trails half a step behind. there's nothing more to say until there's a wine glass in front of her. ]
Thank you.
[ the timing obfuscates whether she's thanking laris for pouring the wine or for everything before. ]
I didn't expect you to forgive me for allowing my personal objective to interfere with Picard's mission.
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Thank you. I'm certain everyone would appreciate that.
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it had been a long conversation, no easy answers or solutions to any of it but they'd come up with something that they believed could be a start in forming a truce, something to take to the other side, to find an agreement. not terms but what they were willing to give up, some to be compromised on and others not.
lydia had ridden out to the checkpoint, nathaniel with her for safety. there'd be questions as to why the widow wasn't here herself but there was a simple answer -- this was her suggestion, one created together and whilst minerva was the landholder everyone knew how close lydia had her ear. how they worked in partnership.
when she'd been met, showing her papers to the guards they'd led her into the lands, taking her to the baron. nathaniel had been disamed, though they'd missed what lay hidden in his hand, the two in whispers until the doors opened again )
Baron Shelby.
( she offers a half-smile, formal and polite, a nod in greeting to him )
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But it's been a couple years now.
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