( oh, o-heckin-kay. she's picking up just a bit of speed on her way from up on the tennis courts — where she'd done less sports than glowering at the captain's area for sport — and will eventually push out of the elvator doors on the cabin level before they even completely open. it's really just a long hallway of bedrooms, and she can spot mizuki by 108 almost immediately.
there's the very strong desire — impatient curiosity — to demand answers the second they're within earshot of one another, but clarke also recognizes that the implication of a private, in person chat could carry heavier information that no passerby should hear. so instead, she nods at him when approaching, uses her shiptalk app to unlock her cabin door, and gestures for him to walk in first.
the interior of cabin 108 is... similar to every other cabin, with the exception of the absolute hoard of random supplies between the wall and the bed. clarke had woken up several days before her roommate had, and had very quickly busied herself collecting any non-perishable snack pack from the general store, bottled water, anything remotely flammable — nail polish remover, dryer sheets, pool noodles, etc — in case... honestly, just in case. apart from that the desk area is covered in pages ripped from spiral notebooks, some are taped to the wall; one or two intricate portrait sketches interspersed between rough doodles of magical sigils, rough-drawn maps of the entire ship, and incomplete passenger manifests. the murderboard vibes within 108 are strong.
and let's just ignore the pillow and blanket on the floor. the bed is too soft, and gradually more and more crowded with survivalist supplies. there's a chair at the desk, and that will be what clarke inevitably gestures at, an unspoken invitation for him to sit. )
What'd you find out, Mizuki? And why do you think uninhibitedly sharing it with everyone else would be a bad idea?
( this is not unfamiliar territory for clarke. in fact, it runs so close to the lining of her heart that it's almost all she can do to ask the questions with an even keel and no outward stress reflected on her features. )
no subject
there's the very strong desire — impatient curiosity — to demand answers the second they're within earshot of one another, but clarke also recognizes that the implication of a private, in person chat could carry heavier information that no passerby should hear. so instead, she nods at him when approaching, uses her shiptalk app to unlock her cabin door, and gestures for him to walk in first.
the interior of cabin 108 is... similar to every other cabin, with the exception of the absolute hoard of random supplies between the wall and the bed. clarke had woken up several days before her roommate had, and had very quickly busied herself collecting any non-perishable snack pack from the general store, bottled water, anything remotely flammable — nail polish remover, dryer sheets, pool noodles, etc — in case... honestly, just in case. apart from that the desk area is covered in pages ripped from spiral notebooks, some are taped to the wall; one or two intricate portrait sketches interspersed between rough doodles of magical sigils, rough-drawn maps of the entire ship, and incomplete passenger manifests. the murderboard vibes within 108 are strong.
and let's just ignore the pillow and blanket on the floor. the bed is too soft, and gradually more and more crowded with survivalist supplies. there's a chair at the desk, and that will be what clarke inevitably gestures at, an unspoken invitation for him to sit. )
What'd you find out, Mizuki? And why do you think uninhibitedly sharing it with everyone else would be a bad idea?
( this is not unfamiliar territory for clarke. in fact, it runs so close to the lining of her heart that it's almost all she can do to ask the questions with an even keel and no outward stress reflected on her features. )