a woman's prerogative.

sigh's a loud, exaggerated groan as she stretches out her legs and leans back against the bench with her arms outstretched, sinking deeply into her position. eyes close to block out the harsh blue of the sky above her. “ ah'm sweatin' like a pig, aerith. can't we head on in somewhere? arctic tundra, maybe? ” she pouts, blowing air up at herself as if to cool down, though her breath is much too hot to make any difference. with a furrowed brow, she throws her attention to aerith directly, opening her eyes. “ can't be good for the flowers, either. ain't they gonna wilt out here? some sort o' sun overdose? ”

a smirk flashes across her features, teasing and testing –– “ i'd prefer to call it active omission. and on top of that, consideration for ... ” her pause is loaded with a glance, something which moves down, then up, then shunts itself off to the side. “ –– the, uh, complications of politics. which i won't pretend to understand. ” lie. it was a prerequisite of her station to understand every minute detail, every aggressive handshake passing between powerful palms, every whispered alliance spoken beneath devious breath. it was a liability not to know, passing through galactic borders with smuggled goods –– delicate, cautious, calculated speech was of the utmost importance in every interaction, despite her tendency to get ahead of herself. “ i don't know how you stand it. ” the smirk is a constant, and though it doesn't appear to change its width, somehow, perhaps by sheer cockiness, it becomes bigger in its presence. she takes a deep breath, gaze wandering the empty space between them before settling back on alia herself. “ clean hands, clean bill of health. it's a simple motto, but it's a living. ” hands raise on cue, revealing callouses along her palms, hints of oil smudged along her wrists.

“ right ... right ––– ” he's nodding along a bit frantically, a bit too focused on the tardis' door which is now being battered against by a quite furious bunch of zygons (furious but ever so stylish as it so happens). the only thing that pulls his attention back to the doctor's words is the implication of impending doom, death by amelia. “ right! ” he secures his position, spinning around while keeping the brunt of his force on the doors so that they don't crash open with the brief reprieve of pressure. he leans now so that his back is against the door, knees bent, arms outspread behind him. “ twice dead, no, i, um –– i hear you clearly, doctor –– ” neck cranes so he can spy out the window. frosted glass. he can practically feel the ship's offense as he rolls his eyes at the impracticality. “ but could you –– please hurry up and press the get away button now ––  !!!! ”

obsessing ocs piccrew! ––– Clíodhna (Cillian) / Luz Cuachayo / Ethel Degas / Miyu Sugiyama / Chiyo Sugiyama / Delphine Brodeur / Bernie Tseitlin / Gracie Tyler / Somnus (Bela Ingold)

hands fold perfectly behind her back, a practiced poise in her actions as she tiptoes from one side of the tall, looming stone column to the other, a distinct shadow dancing across her forehead as if choreographed. “ if i were you i'd just feel sick to death of failing... your footing's all wrong. i don't know how you stand it. ” she sports a devious sort of smile, gaze avoidant as it scans, instead, the grandiose walls of the palace, scorched stone isolating the two of them from the outside ––  in here it would often become too difficult to tell the difference between day and night, light and dark. she approaches him, leaning down with an inquisitive flair to her expression and furrowing her brows at his left foot before swiftly unfolding her palms and sending out, with a flick of her index finger, a small spark aimed to prompt his foot forwards. with this action, uncaring of its success, she stands upright once again and finally looks towards zuko directly. “ how do you expect to get any respect at all with a stance so cowardly? it makes you look pathetic. ”