[Hange frowns, looking frustrated. It's a safe, inwardly-directed frustration, exasperation with herself, the limitations of her vision. She has to see it clear somehow. That's a familiar feeling.]
Perhaps... let's go to the place where I worked.
[she raises her arms slowly. Hange has spent so much time in her lab the details are clear in her memory, though she hasn't been there for near a year. First the walls rise up around them. The roof grinds into place over their head. Bookshelves stretch out of the walls and there's a chorus of rustles, rustles like wings, as books bump and jostle into place like birds. A table rises in front of them and a microscope clicks down on its four little metal legs. Glassware shines in the dimness. There's a hand-cranked centrifuge tucked in a corner, an apparatus to create a vacuum using foot pedals. A map flutters on the wall. There's a table covered with empty, tea-stained teacups, a carafe of tea that once was hot drops down. The air dries and then becomes fragrant with the scent of old hay. There are no windows but the ceiling is high above them. The place is pretty clearly a repurposed barn. A sad-looking pitcher of flowers sits next to the teacups. Off to the side there's a tall pot with oozes down the side and a ladle sticking out of it. Soup, apparently. There's a wide space in front of the table, with nothing at all in it. That's new. Hange drops her hands to her sides and sighs, contentedly, eyes opening very wide and gleaming.]
[Ronan stands beside her, regarding the new space with a detached sort of wariness. He doesn't care for laboratories, even the sort that can be found in barns. His father's workshop was more of an art studio crossed with a library crossed with a museum, a place of reflection and creation. When Ronan thinks of science, it conjures the very opposite image: taking things apart.
But if this is where Hange prefers to work, so be it. He crosses his arms over his chest and leans back against the table.]
I've drawn so many plans in here... studied so much... made prototypes... maybe that will help.
[Hange hops up to sit on the table, and then shuffles around so she's sitting cross-legged, elbows resting on her knees, fingers entwined, hands clasped in front of her face. She hunches forward and sits and thinks, and thinks. The light in the lab is buttery and golden somehow, even though there's no sun. Something shifts in the air in front of them like an oblong ghost and is gone in an instant.]
[Ronan shrugs and pushes off, crossing to the tea set. He's not particularly thirsty, on account of being an incorporeal idea floating around in her head, but since she invited him, he pours a cup for himself and a cup for Hange.
He returns to the table with both, setting one in front of her.]
[It's lukewarm black tea, but made from decent-quality leaves. Mediocre but with a specific flavor in its mediocrity that reminds her strongly of home.
In spite of inviting him to drink, Hange ignores the cup, brow furrowing as she stares at the empty space where this being is taking shape. Another gleaming oval appears, bulges outwards, as a larger one grows down from the top and encloses it. Shiny, chrome and modern. A space ship has to have space inside too, after all. The inner oval pinches down around its middle like a dividing cell. Two little 'rooms' now, rooms for dollies. Hange makes an annoyed noise in her throat and the shapes sublime into dust again.]
[Ronan cradles his own cup in his hands and sips slowly while he watches the shape form - reform - vanish from sight. He's unusually patient in dreams, content to work for years as long as he's certain the atmosphere won't twist into a nightmare. If it weren't for nightmares, in fact, he'd probably never wake from a dream at all.]
Hold it lightly. You're painting with a brush, not constructing with a hammer.
Everything I looked at was so... grey and gritty! Or bright and shiny.
[She lets it go completely, and leans back, grabbing the tea and taking a gulp.]
I'm not sure that's quite right for me. Maybe I'm thinking of it too technically... I could study for years and barely begin to understand how to build a spaceship, especially given where I started. Mine probably has to look a bit different...
[Hange slouches down, rests her chin in her hands. She wouldn't usually speak about this with Ronan, but...]
In my homeland there are certain people who... pilot larger bodies. [And now she's one of them.]
They're enclosed in flesh, surrounded by it and swallowed by it. In a sense it tries to devour them. If they are unwary they'll lose themselves and disappear, they'll become beasts. I don't want this ship to be like that, but perhaps it needs to be more like that than it needs to be like a machine...
[Though Ronan really doesn't sound all that bothered by it. Of course, he's literally chilling in her brain right now. Could he get swallowed up, too? Maybe. He has often nearly lost himself in Adam.]
Make sure it loves you, I guess, and not like in the favorite snack kind of way.
It's quite, quite horrifying! A nightmare, really! But I have to have more space to move in this ship than those people have. But it might be a better start. Sort of.
[Hange beams. Let's start from the outside in, now, and bigger... it's still an oval shape that begins, but it looks almost fuzzy. Bristly to the touch, perhaps. Hard to tell without actually touching it. Lots of little shapes like scales, or tiny feathers, all rucked up. The shape starts at the top and rolls downwards as if it's being wrapped around some invisible inner frame. Steely grey, tiny feathers, or bristles, that ruffle and flex and then smooth down to create a gentle tapering form that nearly resembles an egg. Chubby caterpillar legs push themselves into existence on the flattish, bottom part of the egg, and wiggle back and forth testingly. They're cute.]
[They are cute. A slow smile spreads across Ronan's face as he watches the creature materialize. It's not a thing he would have made, but he understands why it'd come from Hange.]
[Hange gulps her tea excitedly, and jumps off the table and strides towards the new baby with hands raised, palms out. She rests her hands against the smooth surface and gives the ship a gentle nudge. The bristles rise and smooth again, rise and smooth down, and the little feet fidget.]
[But it feels more solid. A good start. Hange drops her hands away as Ronan touches. The feathery, scaly surface vibrates under his touch, raising the feathers again, and then smoothing. It's cool. Hange paces in a circle around her ship.]
It's big, but not big enough. I'm sure you've managed bigger on the inside so I'll give it a shot... maybe some personality next...?
[She has a clear idea of what she wants from the personality. That probably makes it a good second step.]
![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
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I don't know.
[That's up to her. It's her dream.]
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[Hange frowns, looking frustrated. It's a safe, inwardly-directed frustration, exasperation with herself, the limitations of her vision. She has to see it clear somehow. That's a familiar feeling.]
Perhaps... let's go to the place where I worked.
[she raises her arms slowly. Hange has spent so much time in her lab the details are clear in her memory, though she hasn't been there for near a year. First the walls rise up around them. The roof grinds into place over their head. Bookshelves stretch out of the walls and there's a chorus of rustles, rustles like wings, as books bump and jostle into place like birds. A table rises in front of them and a microscope clicks down on its four little metal legs. Glassware shines in the dimness. There's a hand-cranked centrifuge tucked in a corner, an apparatus to create a vacuum using foot pedals. A map flutters on the wall. There's a table covered with empty, tea-stained teacups, a carafe of tea that once was hot drops down. The air dries and then becomes fragrant with the scent of old hay. There are no windows but the ceiling is high above them. The place is pretty clearly a repurposed barn. A sad-looking pitcher of flowers sits next to the teacups. Off to the side there's a tall pot with oozes down the side and a ladle sticking out of it. Soup, apparently. There's a wide space in front of the table, with nothing at all in it. That's new. Hange drops her hands to her sides and sighs, contentedly, eyes opening very wide and gleaming.]
It's been so long!
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But if this is where Hange prefers to work, so be it. He crosses his arms over his chest and leans back against the table.]
Are you building it here?
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[Hange hops up to sit on the table, and then shuffles around so she's sitting cross-legged, elbows resting on her knees, fingers entwined, hands clasped in front of her face. She hunches forward and sits and thinks, and thinks. The light in the lab is buttery and golden somehow, even though there's no sun. Something shifts in the air in front of them like an oblong ghost and is gone in an instant.]
Have some tea, if you want.
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He returns to the table with both, setting one in front of her.]
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In spite of inviting him to drink, Hange ignores the cup, brow furrowing as she stares at the empty space where this being is taking shape. Another gleaming oval appears, bulges outwards, as a larger one grows down from the top and encloses it. Shiny, chrome and modern. A space ship has to have space inside too, after all. The inner oval pinches down around its middle like a dividing cell. Two little 'rooms' now, rooms for dollies.
Hange makes an annoyed noise in her throat and the shapes sublime into dust again.]
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Hold it lightly. You're painting with a brush, not constructing with a hammer.
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[She lets it go completely, and leans back, grabbing the tea and taking a gulp.]
I'm not sure that's quite right for me. Maybe I'm thinking of it too technically... I could study for years and barely begin to understand how to build a spaceship, especially given where I started. Mine probably has to look a bit different...
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In my homeland there are certain people who... pilot larger bodies. [And now she's one of them.]
They're enclosed in flesh, surrounded by it and swallowed by it. In a sense it tries to devour them. If they are unwary they'll lose themselves and disappear, they'll become beasts. I don't want this ship to be like that, but perhaps it needs to be more like that than it needs to be like a machine...
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[Though Ronan really doesn't sound all that bothered by it. Of course, he's literally chilling in her brain right now. Could he get swallowed up, too? Maybe. He has often nearly lost himself in Adam.]
Make sure it loves you, I guess, and not like in the favorite snack kind of way.
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[Hange whacks her hands on her thighs.]
It's quite, quite horrifying! A nightmare, really! But I have to have more space to move in this ship than those people have. But it might be a better start. Sort of.
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[Ronan takes another delicate sip of his tea.]
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Ugly little shit.
[He says it fondly.]
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[Hange gulps her tea excitedly, and jumps off the table and strides towards the new baby with hands raised, palms out. She rests her hands against the smooth surface and gives the ship a gentle nudge. The bristles rise and smooth again, rise and smooth down, and the little feet fidget.]
It's springy...
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[But Ronan sets his cup aside and saunters over to join her, reaching out to stroke its feathers with the same gentleness he'd pet Chainsaw.]
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[But it feels more solid. A good start. Hange drops her hands away as Ronan touches. The feathery, scaly surface vibrates under his touch, raising the feathers again, and then smoothing. It's cool. Hange paces in a circle around her ship.]
It's big, but not big enough. I'm sure you've managed bigger on the inside so I'll give it a shot... maybe some personality next...?
[She has a clear idea of what she wants from the personality. That probably makes it a good second step.]
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[Ronan spreads his arms wide and leans up against the ship, giving it a hug now. As much as one is capable of hugging a ship.]
You wanna be a good ship, don't you?