Application: Aeryn Sun, Farscape

[ruined-mylife.livejournal.com]

Aeryn lounges back against the corridor wall and strips wires, a little lazily perhaps, but with her usual diligence and careful attention. It’s quiet on Moya; John’s taken the baby off somewhere for the afternoon, and Aeryn’s enjoying the peace. She’s enjoying Peace as well, and the quiet and calm that comes with that.

If she’s honest she knows that sooner or later she’ll get bored of such stillness, but then, just because war is no longer a threat doesn’t mean Moya and her now very small crew won’t manage to attract some trouble before long. In a way it’s one of the reasons she loves her husband so much, although she’d never tell him that. Well, unless he’s very good.

If there’s one thing she’s not prepared for, taking a few arns to herself like this, working on Moya in a way she’s come to love, it’s to suddenly be somewhere else entirely.

On a planet, apparently, under a blue sky and a mid-sized yellow sun. She jumps to her feet and slaps her hand to her comm as she takes in her surroundings, the perfect flowers on the hill, the buildings and the little booths, the gate and the fact that there doesn’t seem to be… anything beyond it.

“Pilot?” The look of this place makes her think of Earth. “Pilot can you hear me?” There is no response, not even static; apparently there aren’t any signals to be picked up at all, never mind the one she needs.

“Ha-hi there! I'm Mickey. Gosh, it's great to meet you!" He holds out one spotless white glove, to be shaken. “Welcome to the Happiest Place on Earth!"

Well, that answers her question, then; even if the word ‘Earth’ hadn’t been said, she recognizes this ‘mouse’ from watching television on John’s world. Although there is the slightly alarming fact that John had explained to her that he wasn’t a real creature, just a drawing animated by film, but then, Aeryn was fairly sure that John still believed in Santa Clause and he was definitely not real, so perhaps he’d just been wrong about this as well.

Mikke (No, she thinks, M-I-C-K-E-Y. Consonant rule; the hard ‘k’ sound is the two-letter ‘ck’ combination when it follows a short vowel, and the ‘y’ makes the ‘e’ heard) gets the muzzle of her pulse pistol aimed at his nose in response to the offered Earth handshake.

“How did I get here?” she asks, in English. “And where is here anyway, besides on Earth?”

Mickey ignores her in favor of holding a conversation with the talking cat-creature. Aeryn listens with what would be amusement if the situation weren’t so frelling alarming, but her pulse pistol doesn’t waver from Mickey’s face. And then he starts asking her questions.

Mickey coughs theatrically. "'What is your name?'"

“Aeryn Sun-Crichton,” she answers, seeing no real reason not to. And if she’s perfectly honest with herself, there’s a small part of her that wants to smile in a very un-soldierly fashion at speaking the name aloud. She hasn’t yet had much of a chance to.

"What is your quest?" asks the Cat. It's perched, suddenly, on the roof of one of the gate-stiles.

Aeryn’s gun swings sharply in the Cat’s direction. “At the moment it’s to find out where I am and how I got here,” she says sounding both irritable and suspicious. Which is appropriate, since that’s pretty much exactly how she’s feeling. “What the frell are you?”

"'What is the average w..?'" Mickey frowns down at the notebook. "You know, I don't really see why that's important." He flips a page. "'If you could be granted three wishes, what would they be?'"

Aeryn makes a dismissive noise.

“I don’t rely on other people to make my wishes come true.” Well, maybe one other person, but that isn’t the point. “I can take care of that myself, thank you.”

"Or," the Cat says, examining its tail with interest, "if you were a genie and someone you were trying to give three wishes to was trying to trick you into giving him more, what would you say?"

“I’d probably just shoot him. Is there a point to this?”

Mickey looks rather nonplused at the next, but reads, "'When the revolution comes, what skills will you be able to barter for food?'"

She just raises an eyebrow at him, and silently re-aims the pulse pistol in his direction.

The Cat rolls its eyes in a friendly (and rather disconcertingly out-of-sync) way, and asks, "Milk, dark, or white chocolate?"

“Dark. With almonds.” She loves almonds. Really loves them. Probably to an unhealthy degree, not that she’d admit it under threat of torture.

"'Choose the two coolest: robots, pirates, fairies, bears, ninjas, monkeys, vampires, or humans,'" says Mickey, giggling a bit as he goes through the list. "'Explain.'"

More Earth slang. Good thing she knows John or she’d be really confused. Was once. “Well, I’m rather partial to humans.” A slow smirk. She’s not losing any of her wariness, but she can’t help be slightly amused by the ridiculousness of the questions, and the fact that she’s actually answering them with something approaching seriousness and amiability. Well, amiability for her. “Some more than others. And I saw a video of monkeys once. They were cute.” Well, approaching seriousness.

"Great!" Mickey flips through the blank pages of the notebook at top, cartoon-y speed. "Well, I think that's just about it! Oh, and I'm supposed to ask, 'for your safety: are you carrying anything sharp?'"

“For my safety?” Aeryn asks in return. “Are you suggesting that I need to be?”

((Here she is at last, the much talked about, lovely Sebacean soldier who recently became wife to John Crichton and mother to his son. Aeryn Sun (pronunciation lies sort of between ‘sun’ and ‘soon’) is taken from about a month after the end of the Peacekeeper Wars, and so is from a bit later than John, after the war has been ended and the baby’s been born. Come say hello! And visit her profile for a biography and links.

I have much encouragement, begging and pleading and bribery permission from Crichton mun for the app. And this is Daniel/Sam/Doctor/Artoo-mun.))