2034-03-11 2330EST Willow greets her returning hero
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Willow has identified that she is experiencing human emotion feelings for Sutton - an unprecidented event for her. Rationally, she recognizes that she is in a world where she lacks the control she previously had over her environment and other people. Having Sutton around makes her feel better. Less unstable. Almost... good?
When he returned from his adventures she put a little more care into her makeup and appearance. She smiled more (or just smiled ad all), touched his shoulder, and said a tentative, "I'm glad you're back."
...Sutton's reaction and their interaction will be added when they are played.
Willow turns to the mirror and feels the familiar perfectionism taking over. This is was, however, an unusual target - she is used to spending her considerable enhanced senses to find the imperfections in her work, and the work of those around her, not on her appearance. She had long ago made the appropriate genetic changes to ensure she always looked young, fit, and attractive, but today, she found herself scanning her sleek form to pick the perfect outfit, the perfect makeup, perhaps even plan some further genetic changes to enhance her breasts, tummy, gluts?
"WILLOW!" she shouts at herself, with a familiar, authoritative internal bark. Her attention snaps back, and she sighs. "What am I doing?". This one was aloud, and breathy. She knew very clearly that this meant that Sutton had infiltrated her in a way that she hadn't felt in a long time, and to an extent that made her very uncomfortable. Her old self, Miranda, whom she now personified as a separate entity, would never have allowed such emotional vulnerability. Sutton would have been shipped off to another project, another base, another life that she could have carefully manipulated and created. She had done that before. But she knew that in this new world, she couldn't do this. She didn't WANT to do this. And even though her new self, Willow, had carefully crafted an identity with a goal of working with team members, peers (the irony of the word), with open-mindedness and less control - she never imagined how this would affect her internally. Her emotions, previously tightly controlled, had now become tumultuous and unbridled on a daily basis. Sometimes, to her horror, the emotions would leak out in unpredictable and terrifying ways. But when Sutton was around, she felt calmer, more steady. Stronger even. It was curious to feel this kind of strength, and it intrigued her. What she thought was just a friendship and respect, birthed in the early moments of the BURF disaster over coffee, had turned into something much more powerful. It was out of control - but seemed to be stabilizing her. Her analytical mind was confused at the paradox, but she knew she needed this, craved it even, right now in the midst of the external, and internal, chaos.
"Just pick something". She decided to forego her familiar labcoat, also carefully crafted to accentuate both her beauty and her intellect, and picked a blouse and skirt combo that she knew moved the needle squarely out of science into the realm of allure. "Fuck, what the hell is Droo going to say?" she thinks, slightly irritated at caring. She takes her hair down, knowing that it partially impede her all around vision, a detail she rarely sacrificed, and forced herself to turn from the mirror and move towards the door. She knew that Sutton and the crew would be landing shortly, and wanted to ensure that she was outside for the landing. With a quick gesture, she invoked the CAFel AI to determine Chewie's ETA for the fourth time that hour. She hurried out, a slight smile lighting her features, and she allowed a little tingle of excitement to filter through her as she walked the hollowed rock halls out to the runway. As the barrier doors opens, brilliant light blasts her and her inner eyelids instantly adjusted to allow her perfect vision to quickly identify the speck in the distance even before her AR rig painted the dot in the distance with "Chewie". She smiled again, at the reference this time, knowing how much she loved those movies. She allowed herself to reminisce while she waited for the landing, oblivious to the attention her new look was creating among the numerous base staff outside. She was 16, in her third year at John Hopkins, and finally free of her abusive home...at least while on campus...when she saw Episode VIII of the rekindled franchise, and binge watched all the other movies shortly after. Simon convinced her during a rare break in their cutting edge genetics work to accompany him. She had protested, but he insisted. Their friendship had deepened to a point where he could always find a way to convince her to do things that she wouldn't think were fun, and he was always right. She missed those carefree times, but was comforted that Simon was now on the same base as her, working in the same direction, and she didn't have to find a dark zone connection to speak with him virtually...ironically, usually via Storm. How much had changed, how much they all hid. And yet those deep threads, more like bridge cables it seems, had all found their way to interconnect back here. Maybe during the last days of humanity.
Chewie was landing now. She stood a little straighter, angled herself carefully, and waited for the loading doors to open, a shiver of excitement washing over her. As they opened, her smile faded and the shiver turned to horror.