★ it makes you burn to learn i'm with another man | sobbing on emily ;;

[11ady]

[In the months following the fallout from the holodeck fiasco, Une's been a bit of recluse. She's hardly ever seen outside HQ and her contact with the network is always kept to text. Faceless. It's easier to hide from the world in the midst of all that's happened. She's been betrayed by those she considered allies, thrown into simulated realities and toyed with. To enslave her mind like that was beyond criminal.

But she doesn't have the luxury of prolonged sabbatical. It's October. The holiday gala will be soon. A fire and ice ball to improve PR. Her engagement party...

For the first time in a long time, she slips into a dress.

Not blue; it reminds her too much of His Excellency's stare.

Not purple; it reminds her too much of her lost one-eyed king.

Not green; it reminds her too much of the uniform she wears while facing the challenge of duty.

No, she wears black. The color of mourning. It's a tight fit, hugging her curves in all the right places, cutting far enough above the knee to bare some thigh. The straps are thin and the neckline dips to show off some cleavage.

For the first time in a long time, she wants to be seen.

Clutching her purse, she walks down the street of the commercial district with no particular destination in mind.]

Comments

[thieving]

( If this was the fallout, then the holodeck event was the nuclear bomb that caused the ruination that surrounded not only Jim's life, but his mind. He was on the wrong side of the explosion, there was no safety, there was no bunker, his hand was not what was on the button - being caught unawares like that had struck both a hefty blow against the thief's ego as well as derailed his beautifully laid plans for some time. Recovering from a vast set of "memories" that were not his took time, and contemplation. In an effort to sort himself out, he'd retreated. It wasn't a graceful exit, it was a gasping, dying crawl from the limelight, from the watching, judging eyes. Things that ought not to have reached him were.

Jim Moriarty considered himself untouchable -- no one ever gets to me and no one ever will -- had that been his challenge to fate itself? Moran was nowhere aboard the ship, his right hand and, perhaps, the only person he had some semblance of faith in after all moran had proven useful countless times and had a 100% success rate. All he had was those he consorted with, those he struck deals and shallow partnerships with. Then this had occurred, and left him feeling far too vulnerable. Jim was disgusted with himself due to his lack of control. Though it was a chip implanted in him, fooling his logical mind into believing himself a common, emotional human being, that caused his lack of control, he still held himself accountable.

One day, he'll have his revenge. There is no place in society for a criminal who cannot remain in control.

For now, he realized dwelling in this shell-shocked state of mind was not beneficial to his agenda. There were things to do, so Jim put on his dancing shoes, and forced himself into the world once more. The news of the gala had reached him some weeks before, and he decided that, if anything, it would be the perfect place to get his ship-legs back. When it came around, for that matter. Socializing, while not his forte, was necessary when one needed to remain in control. He'd missed so much while secluded, and he would permit himself no more time to hide away.

Out. Into the world, into the commercial district, into the fray -- taking the long way around. Full-tilt, with a wavering smile and confusion wrought in his mind - there's still so much to sort out, so much fucking baggage he thought would never touch him. Jim Moriarty considers himself untouchable, but in July, that self-image was shattered. He's still putting it back together, and it's easier so long as he keeps his distance from her.

But there she is. )