you wouldn't be so depressed if you really believed in god

[rhinemaid]

Who: Ilde Decima, Mycroft Holmes, Jim Kirk
What: Ilde and Mycroft read together.
Where: Queensgate & Winchester Memorial Park, Sobek Croix.
When: Sukkardi afternoon/eveningish?
Notes: Separate threads for Mycroft and Jim! If you would also like to run into Ilde while she's passing through Sobek Croix, drop me a line and we can probably make something happen. Also, obligatory polyvore.
Warnings: TBA if necessary.

Sobek Croix is an oddly soothing place to be, Ilde finds; passing through the forest always makes her feel as if she's getting away from something, somehow. An illusion that lets her pretend this is a different place when it isn't, not really, just this city's different face. It doesn't really matter - knowing that it's a comforting illusion doesn't undo its usefulness to her. She knows all about self-deception.

The way to Queensgate is a familiar route that she doesn't have to concentrate on too hard, turn here and follow this road and she can do it almost on autopilot, now, and that's how she's done most things for the past few weeks. Distracted and busy, she's let herself forget about everything that isn't one foot in front of the other or written on a list somewhere and nobody pencils in political unrest unless they're living a certain kind of life that she currently isn't. She feels a little bit like she's just waking up all over again, without direction outside the carefully mapped out path that isn't and can't be uninfluenced by what's happening in the world around her. It's like swinging between extremes; being a part of this city is what she wants, but not the wrong part, not the quiet, restless part that frustrated her so much when she first arrived, the people who look away and look through and just have better things to be doing with their time.

And not the part who think because she's started to show that they can touch her belly, either, because she's going to pin someone's hand to a table with a knife the next time that happens without her permission. At very least she'll consider it very hard, and maybe substitute something that she can't be charged with assault for. (Her students, at least the children, get a pass; their parents wouldn't if not for the fact that she needs that money.) A little violent fantasy- has probably hurt plenty of people, but keeps Ilde vaguely distracted on the rest of her walk through Sobek Croix to Mycroft's property, taking the scenic route through the memorial park just because she can.

She came out a little earlier just to make sure it wouldn't make her late. Punctuality is one of those other things she doesn't have any innate knack for, but if at first you don't succeed-

Comments

[captaincocksure]

Jim misses the Enterprise.

He misses his ship, he misses the people on it (one in particular, above and beyond the others), misses being where he belongs. There are a million little ways, a million little things that come up all the time that remind him. Having to boil water for coffee instead of just demanding it from a replicator. Looking up at the stars, not out at them.

But while solid ground tends to remind him of what's been taken from him, there are some ways in which he prefers the feel of it beneath his feet. Running is one of those ways. Exercising on his ship was a matter of running on a treadmill, or, when he could manage it, through the corridors of his ship (though the sight of their captain at a dead run often worried his junior officers, made them fear there was an emergency).

But running out here, with grass and paths and earth beneath his running shoes, and fresh air in his lungs, is far more exhilarating. He likes running through Sobek Croix best; there are trees, more varied terrain, he doesn't have to dodge the street preachers like he does when he runs near his apartment. There are fewer people to dodge.

Usually. Tonight, he follows a rough path through the forest, and when he pops back out onto the main path, he spots a woman up ahead.

"Behind you!" he calls out, mindful that a lady walking alone in a deserted place might not appreciate a man running up behind her without warning.

[diogenesis]

Mycroft appreciates punctuality the way someone else might appreciate fine art. He's known his whole life that this is absolutely not true of most others, and Ilde is no exception, but he is grateful when an effort is made. Today, his reading companion is on time, and he greets her at the door with a version of his polite smile that is a degree or two warmer than the one he reserves for the general population.

He leads the way to the sitting room, where they take their customary chairs in front of the unlit fireplace. He's timed the tea so that it would be ready just as Ilde arrived, the service already set out on a low table between them, and he does the honor of pouring them each a cup before taking his own and leaning back in his seat.

The routine is soothing, and the warmth of the cup against his hand is soothing. It's been a tense week, a tension both similar and very different from what he'd experienced at his job in London, and it's left him needing something like this, quiet and familiar. Sometimes the two of them say nothing at all during their time together—not even a greeting at the door—and Mycroft starts out thinking today might be one of those days. But the silence turning in him isn't a restful one; it's missing a piece and it wants to reach out, like a droplet of water running down a pane. And Ilde has come to run beside him.

“Have you been well?” he asks mildly. It could mean anything.