Memory 001.) Release your high hopes and they'll survive
"Hey, they're here. Better get ready."
She blinks and looks up from her plate, uttering out an "Ah," as she does. A man in his late 50's, with black hair and glasses and a stubble on his chin, motions at her to come along, and she quickly gets up and leaves the rather bland food behind.
She's heard of them before; everyone in the base has mentioned them once or twice. She doesn't actually remember where she had been when their armed interventions started, though, but then again she doesn't quite remember much of her past. It's quite sad, not being able to remember anything, and there's always that loneliness that comes with not knowing where she originates from or if she has any loved ones at all. Still, she never does encounter a situation where her lack of memories intentionally becomes bothersome; no one's allowed to talk about their past anyway, so she never really needs to think about it. She remembers the faces and names of the people she works with, and she never forgets her duties-that's what's important here, right? So though she's only heard of this group from talks and briefings and the idle chatter of workers standing in the food line or during coffee breaks, she'll make sure she'll do her best to help them.
"Yo, we've been waiting for you guys."
The man with the stubble greets the people who emerge from the multiple pressure-locked doors. There are eight of them: Six are wearing the same uniform as herself, but in different colors. Blue for the tanned man with black hair, violet for the person whose hair is of the same shade, a lighter purple for the woman with long, wavy brown hair, gray for the man with a scar near his right eye, orange for the man with two different eye colors, and yellow for the girl who happily cries out "Mama!" as she runs to the blond woman beside the man who greeted them. The other two-the boy with brown eyes and the girl with long, white hair-are dressed in civilian clothing.
They meet up and joke around about how young the man's wife is, and she watches curiously as they do. She doesn't quite get it... But it seems to lighten the mood in the room, so she thinks that's not necessarily a bad thing. The pleasant moment is short-lived, however, when the woman with the brown hair steps up to speak, and the mood quickly changes into one of urgency. She knows what the woman is saying is important so she tries to move in to listen, but whenever they seem to state certain names, her hearing suddenly fails her. Nevertheless, she's able to form a coherent idea from what she actually does pick up: the woman wants the crew inside this station to speed up the resupplying and repairs of her ship because their enemy has been deployed in this certain region of space.
"However, we need at least five days for resupplying and repairs." It's she herself who steps forward this time, and the voice that speaks is her own. She's met with questioning looks from the group, so she puts on a smile and explains that she's been scouted. They seem rather surprised, and the purple-haired one asks who did so.
The man with the stubble responds, but again she fails to hear a name, and then he goes on about her many useful talents and how pretty she is to boot. Embarrassed, she quickly averts her eyes and stares at the ground. She isn't sure how welcome she is, but the strange association they have with each other has gotten her curious. She doesn't really remember what it feels to be in a group, but... seeing how they interact with each other, it's definitely a good thing, isn't it? It makes her feel a little less lonely.
So she simply utters one sentence in greeting, but the tone of her voice is enough to express her thoughts: that it would be nice if she too could experience the kind of bond that they have.
"I-I hope we get along well."
She blinks and looks up from her plate, uttering out an "Ah," as she does. A man in his late 50's, with black hair and glasses and a stubble on his chin, motions at her to come along, and she quickly gets up and leaves the rather bland food behind.
She's heard of them before; everyone in the base has mentioned them once or twice. She doesn't actually remember where she had been when their armed interventions started, though, but then again she doesn't quite remember much of her past. It's quite sad, not being able to remember anything, and there's always that loneliness that comes with not knowing where she originates from or if she has any loved ones at all. Still, she never does encounter a situation where her lack of memories intentionally becomes bothersome; no one's allowed to talk about their past anyway, so she never really needs to think about it. She remembers the faces and names of the people she works with, and she never forgets her duties-that's what's important here, right? So though she's only heard of this group from talks and briefings and the idle chatter of workers standing in the food line or during coffee breaks, she'll make sure she'll do her best to help them.
"Yo, we've been waiting for you guys."
The man with the stubble greets the people who emerge from the multiple pressure-locked doors. There are eight of them: Six are wearing the same uniform as herself, but in different colors. Blue for the tanned man with black hair, violet for the person whose hair is of the same shade, a lighter purple for the woman with long, wavy brown hair, gray for the man with a scar near his right eye, orange for the man with two different eye colors, and yellow for the girl who happily cries out "Mama!" as she runs to the blond woman beside the man who greeted them. The other two-the boy with brown eyes and the girl with long, white hair-are dressed in civilian clothing.
They meet up and joke around about how young the man's wife is, and she watches curiously as they do. She doesn't quite get it... But it seems to lighten the mood in the room, so she thinks that's not necessarily a bad thing. The pleasant moment is short-lived, however, when the woman with the brown hair steps up to speak, and the mood quickly changes into one of urgency. She knows what the woman is saying is important so she tries to move in to listen, but whenever they seem to state certain names, her hearing suddenly fails her. Nevertheless, she's able to form a coherent idea from what she actually does pick up: the woman wants the crew inside this station to speed up the resupplying and repairs of her ship because their enemy has been deployed in this certain region of space.
"However, we need at least five days for resupplying and repairs." It's she herself who steps forward this time, and the voice that speaks is her own. She's met with questioning looks from the group, so she puts on a smile and explains that she's been scouted. They seem rather surprised, and the purple-haired one asks who did so.
The man with the stubble responds, but again she fails to hear a name, and then he goes on about her many useful talents and how pretty she is to boot. Embarrassed, she quickly averts her eyes and stares at the ground. She isn't sure how welcome she is, but the strange association they have with each other has gotten her curious. She doesn't really remember what it feels to be in a group, but... seeing how they interact with each other, it's definitely a good thing, isn't it? It makes her feel a little less lonely.
So she simply utters one sentence in greeting, but the tone of her voice is enough to express her thoughts: that it would be nice if she too could experience the kind of bond that they have.
"I-I hope we get along well."