Aeryn understood the purpose of the cell phone - you used it like a very primitive, clunky communicator that for whatever reason a teenager thought she would be okay with him running off with it once she got it out of the box roughly a block from the store Crichton had taken them to in the first place. Yes, it was ugly, yes, it was a rather inefficient bit of technology, but that didn't mean she'd let some frellwit steal it from her.
Aeryn understood the process just fine; it was the use that she had trouble getting used to, and because it frustrated her, she ignored it. She knew the sound for phone calls, and she knew the sound for messages that she could just get Crichton to repeat in person (because only Crichton called her anyway in the last 48 hours since getting the thing), she knew how to make it louder and how to hang up, and that was good enough.
So she wasn't expecting it to make strange sounds while she was frowning at the news broadcast, and Crichton was sitting right next to her. She watched him mess with his cell phone, and heard her own beep three times before she picked it up and frowned at it.
Then at him.
"I don't understand."
There is so much about this she doesn't understand.
Whether or not this is some sort of illusion remains to be seen, in Aeryn's opinion.
She has never seen many of these species before, not to mention the architecture; though that doesn't count for much, she knows. The people are friendly - friendly enough to be suspicious, to Aeryn, and she had attacked the one who'd brought her in from the snowstorm when she'd refused to answer Aeryn's questions, and that hasn't helped her overall impression of this place.
A prison. A very large, very cold, very pretty prison, but a prison nonetheless as they aren't allowed to leave.
It reminds her of Maldis, only with a condition she doesn't entirely understand.
She huffs, staring at the puff of air that appears in front of her face with a frown and crosses her arms. Someone from the nearby ice rink shouts at her, inviting her to come out and skate; Aeryn ignores them. She's waiting for Crichton, and has no idea what ice skating is anyway, but it looks like something that could be very dangerous if she took the blades off those skates and used them as a weapon.
The thought brings her as close to a smile as she's gotten thus far.
She doesn't have to wait long. He's already out and about when he gets the message from Aeryn - curt as ever - telling him to meet her by ice rink (though Aeryn of course doesn't call it that, and her rather withering description of the place and the activity and the people doing it is so very Aeryn as to convince Crichton that she's the real deal rather than an impostor). In a few minutes he's there, dressed warmly against the cold, breath coming out in clouds as he trots the last bit of distance between them, face lighting up in the way that it always seems to when he sees her.
"Boy, it's good to see a friendly face." Not that her expression is particularly friendly, at least, it might not seem that way to a stranger. It is a relief, though, to know he's not the only one stranded here. How had they gotten here - and where in the hell was Moya and everybody else?
"Not too friendly." She tilts her chin at one of the small groups of giggling people with wings who have been staring at her since she arrived. "And yet, they remain."
Despite her words she does relax a bit when Crichton stands closer; the words, the body language, that expression are all so very him, familiar yet confusion at the same time, that she also feels certain that he is neither illusion nor hallucination brought upon by this place. "There have been no mention of Moya or the crew other than your own request for information. These people don't appear to have space flight, just genetically modified individual flight and some sort of ability range that falls under the heading of magic."
Aeryn takes out her device and finds a marked file, an announcement made weeks prior. "Have you seen this?"
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no subject
Aeryn understood the process just fine; it was the use that she had trouble getting used to, and because it frustrated her, she ignored it. She knew the sound for phone calls, and she knew the sound for messages that she could just get Crichton to repeat in person (because only Crichton called her anyway in the last 48 hours since getting the thing), she knew how to make it louder and how to hang up, and that was good enough.
So she wasn't expecting it to make strange sounds while she was frowning at the news broadcast, and Crichton was sitting right next to her. She watched him mess with his cell phone, and heard her own beep three times before she picked it up and frowned at it.
Then at him.
"I don't understand."
There is so much about this she doesn't understand.
no subject
She has never seen many of these species before, not to mention the architecture; though that doesn't count for much, she knows. The people are friendly - friendly enough to be suspicious, to Aeryn, and she had attacked the one who'd brought her in from the snowstorm when she'd refused to answer Aeryn's questions, and that hasn't helped her overall impression of this place.
A prison. A very large, very cold, very pretty prison, but a prison nonetheless as they aren't allowed to leave.
It reminds her of Maldis, only with a condition she doesn't entirely understand.
She huffs, staring at the puff of air that appears in front of her face with a frown and crosses her arms. Someone from the nearby ice rink shouts at her, inviting her to come out and skate; Aeryn ignores them. She's waiting for Crichton, and has no idea what ice skating is anyway, but it looks like something that could be very dangerous if she took the blades off those skates and used them as a weapon.
The thought brings her as close to a smile as she's gotten thus far.
no subject
"Boy, it's good to see a friendly face." Not that her expression is particularly friendly, at least, it might not seem that way to a stranger. It is a relief, though, to know he's not the only one stranded here. How had they gotten here - and where in the hell was Moya and everybody else?
no subject
Despite her words she does relax a bit when Crichton stands closer; the words, the body language, that expression are all so very him, familiar yet confusion at the same time, that she also feels certain that he is neither illusion nor hallucination brought upon by this place. "There have been no mention of Moya or the crew other than your own request for information. These people don't appear to have space flight, just genetically modified individual flight and some sort of ability range that falls under the heading of magic."
Aeryn takes out her device and finds a marked file, an announcement made weeks prior. "Have you seen this?"