[ shí­ èr - visual ]

[gotcouplings.livejournal.com]

A year. It's been over a year since Kaylee first arrived in Taxon, over a year since she's been landlocked. A year where she's watched people come and go, where she's made new friends, lost them, and made some more. A year in which she's experienced everything from exciting eras on Earth-That-Was to complete system failures.

If it's a year to be celebrated, she can't tell. Hell, she can't even tell if it's a year she's completely hated. Either way, she's somehow found herself in a bar, parts for the inner-workings of the Doctor's drill in her hands and a cup of ale next to her on the counter. It seems to be another case of the tablets switching themselves on, with how concentrated on her work she is. A year, and others have been here longer, and they still haven't found a way out.

The drill might not do it. It won't, 99.999% positive it won't. But it doesn't hurt to try, and that small, insignificant little .001% might be all they need. Lord knows the crew of Serenity has skimmed by on less than that before.

She sighs, somewhat triumphantly, and places the wired-up parts on the counter. A smile down at her tablet--seems she did know it was on, look at that--and she raises her glass.

"Xiàwǔ hǎo, Taxon. Anybody care for a drink?"


[[ Translation: Xiàwǔ hǎo = Good afternoon ]]

[ visual | location: Sookie's house ] be just fine and dandy lord it's like a hard candy christmas

[lajolieblonde.livejournal.com]

Sookie's Christmas was the first she's ever spent alone. It's hard, missing the people she left back in Bon Temps (Lord help her, she misses Bill; heartbreak can't seem to erase what she feels for him. Felt for him. Oh, fine, it's the first.)

But Lord knows she's had enough moping, and it's not in her nature anyway. Instead, she's taken it on herself to clean the house she took over top to bottom, the project keeping her mind from dwelling on the lingering uncertainty, sadness.

She slips on some water and the teapot in her hands goes flying, crashing against the wall and shattering into a million pieces. It was nothing, just a nice little flowered thing she got for herself around the holidays. But as her knees crash to the floor and starbursts of pain run up her legs, that teapot seems like the last straw.

Without thinking about it, she stretches out her hand and light arcs out, and the pieces are dust, now. She slumps down, resting her hands on her knees and hanging her head. "Oh, hell." There's a small beep and either her power turned the tablet on or her luck is just that awful, because when Sookie looks up it's recording her slumped defeat and she quickly scrambles off her knees-- not completely being able to hold back a tiny moan of pain as she does so-- to flip it off.