(no subject)

[cactusy]

[Shaw likes the deck. Out of everything on the Barge, space feels familiar, even if she isn't used to being this up close and personal with it: and so she's made a habit of spending at least an hour or so every night just hanging out at the railing. More recently, she's also made a habit of hopping over the side and reclining in one of the safety nets that's attached to the hull. It shields her from the eyes of friendly passers-by when she wants to be alone, and it infuses her with a sense of something like peace to let herself drift so close to void: something that could kill her, that should kill her, but won't. It's silent and empty, a good place to go when she feels silent and empty too, and it quiets her mind like very little else.

She's been in her little makeshift hammock for an hour or so when she decides to haul herself up and rejoin the ship at large. Bouncing a little on the balls of her feet, she launches herself straight up from the net, fingertips grabbing the edge of the deck flooring. From there she pulls herself high enough to grasp the lowest bar on the railing, and then the second lowest bar, and then the third, and then she's in a good position to get her knees up onto the deck so that she can start climbing up the outside of the railing in earnest--

Does she look like an insane person doing this? Probably. Is she at all bothered by that fact? Not in the least.]