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Who: Sonya Blade and You
Where: varied: prompts mentioned under cut
When: April 18th-24
What: Day in a life/week
Warnings: Possible mentions of post war/death trauma

sleeping cars/Dining/library
Her nightmares have been getting worse. Some nights were always worse than others, but lately they’ve been getting stronger, more vivid, and she’s lucky to get an hour or two of sleep at a time. Lack of control has always been one of her fears, and to wake up screaming from a bad dream (possibly waking up her bunk mates), is something she’ll never get used to.

Those nights could usually find her in the library, mindlessly staring at an open book. Or more likely find her in the kitchen car, nursing a cup of herbal tea in some vain attempt to calm down her thoughts.

Training Gym

She's in the training gym every day; knife fighting, body weights, agility, once and a while even a yoga session if it’s not too crowded (though her preferred location for the latter was the garden carriage). There was comfort in routine, and some hope that if she worked hard enough, her body would be too sore and tired and she could perhaps have one or even two nights of dreamless sleep.

Not that either of those helped of course, but she felt better to do something.

Music Car
Three times a week, Sonya tried to get in some time in the music car. There’s no reason for her to learn of course; they didn’t have a piano or keyboard on base, and there was no reason for Johnny to have one in his condo. This was just meant for her pleasure alone, something that had nothing to do with combat, the military or defense at all.

She’s been teaching herself for nearly nine months now; a fair hand at reading and playing what was on the page, usually. Only now, the notes seem to blur at times and it’s a struggle to keep her fingers steady enough to play the cords. The sheet music is an old jazz standard, something easy and not too complicated for her to play.

That should be the case, but at some point, she can only just set down the cover and give herself a break.

The fuck was wrong with her.

ooc: wildcard; have a prompt or idea you want to play out but need a different prompt? Hit me up on discord at Rschwartz501#6755 or plurk at

Rschwartz501

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Early in the morning - or, well, early after the mandatory sleep time ends - Alice is already making her way over to the kitchen to grab herself a cup of tea as well before the masses arrive. She definitely does not want to interact with people in the morning.

But this early morning.. well, she's rather surprised that there is already someone sitting there with tea. Alice raises a curious eyebrow when she looks at Sonya before speaking up.

"You sure are early."

Not like she knows it was caused by nightmares.

The sound of someone addressing her nearly startled her back to the present. She couldn't even recall if she'd been dozing off or just too lost in her thoughts, however phased out she was.

She turned towards the young woman with a frown, before looking at the clock on the wall. "Shit.."

Had she really been sitting up for several hours?

".. 'shit'?"

Alice repeats the word, the curse sounding almost foreign on her tongue. Especially since she says it in such a dispassionate way, like she's repeating something totally normal back to the other.

"Is there some sort of problem?"

She doesn't entirely cringe when the word is repeated, but she does look a little uncomfortable about it; or perhaps it's more the idea of not entirely being in control of what she just said.

Cage was the one who ran his mouth. She was supposed to be the restrained one.

"I just didn't realize how much time had passed, that's all." It was around three..perhaps four in the morning when she'd finally given up on sleep.

For a moment Alice wonders if this, too, is about having a complicated relationship with time. Just like the Hatter and the March Hare had back home in Wonderland. But after considering it for a moment, and considering what the people on the train are like, Alice figures it's probably a bit more of a literal interpretation of the matter.

So the question she wanted to ask instead turns into, "Haven't you slept?"

"At some point." Sleeping wasn't the issue; it was staying asleep and the nightmares that was the problem. "It's just something I have to deal with."

Her therapist back home would've told her this shouldn't be the case, that she shouldn't have to deal with nightmares and insomnia, not like this. Unfortunately, her therapist wasn't here, and those she normally spoke with were no longer on the train.

And perhaps it was just the broken parts of her brain, but trying to find someone qualified seemed more trouble than it was worth.

"You an earlier riser as well?"

"It's better than dealing with the rush of people you have to endure when getting up slightly later."

Which isn't a real answer to the question, but it's still honest enough. And Alice says as much easily. It's not like she makes a big secret out of it that she doesn't really like being around a lot of people. Sometimes just being around one other person is already too much.

But it's not the important part here. Alice shakes her head, before moving to make some tea for herself, even though she's still speaking up even as she's looking at what she's doing rather than at Sonya.

"But.. well, if you are experiencing some trouble with sleep, then I suppose it's the one upside of the train knocking us out for a certain amount of time at night." Even if Alice doesn't know whether it's enough time or not for a full night's sleep. It's so hard to tell with how odd and timeless everything feels out here in the void, without a sun or a moon. "Aside from that, it's mostly just really creepy."

She was always an early riser, even when Red team wasn't in charge of meals, so she usually managed to avoid the crowds anyway. She could certainly understand the sentiment, however.

That Alice busied herself while talking didn't bother her. She did it all the time after all. She did wait till the young woman took her seat before answering.

"It is, but I've done enough traveling to know how disorientating it could be without a means to track time. Jet lag can be a bitch."

Now, actually staying a sleep, that was more of an issue.

".. jet lag?"

Alice stirs her tea a little as she asks it, her gaze slowly rising from the cup she was staring at as she sat down towards Sonya's face.

She raises an eyebrow, curiously. Clearly Alice has never heard of this concept before. (It's what happens if you come from a time before air travel..)

"It's to do with traveling by air." Either the young woman never had the chance to experience travel by airplane or she was from a time or place that didn't have jets or airplanes. Whatever the case, she just rolled with it. "In a jet or airplane, you're literally able to travel hundreds of miles in just a day or two, and depending on your destination, you could start your journey on one day, travel for twelve hours and be in an entire country two days later. Logically, you're only traveling for say, twelve or fourteen hours, but your inner clock feels the effects of several days worth of travel. Jet lag is what happens a day or two after that journey-fatigue, restlessness, dizziness, nausea."

And given the amount of traveling she's had to do, Sonya was all too aware of the symptoms. "Getting plenty of sleep during the actual flight is one of the ways to alleviate symptoms."

That description, even though it's relatively clear by modern day standards, sounds so weird to Alice. It's hard to imagine it when you aren't used to the idea of different countries living in different timezones, of only needing to spend a few hours or a day to get anywhere else, rather than weeks on a boat or in a carriage.

Honestly, it sounds like something that'd happen in Wonderland. Traveling somewhere, and it suddenly being two days later, even though you didn't travel for that long...

Alice hums as she raises her cup of tea to her lips, sipping from it.

"Your world must have an odd relationship with Time. Perhaps someone upset her."

Trunks is also in the training gym everyday. Usually with Cassie, sometimes training others, and on times when it's not crowded--which is usually early in the morning or late late at night--with his Father. So of course, he'd passed Blade repeatedly while they were in the gym. Usually he nodded and greeted her, and then left her to her routine.

Something seemed wrong lately, which is probably why he had kept an eye on her even while doing his own routines. Eventually making his way over, carrying a fresh towel for her, and one looped around his neck. "Excuse me, Blade?"

Her muscles are crying out for a rest, well over the time she'd usually spend for a breather. She could push herself farther and harder than most women (hell, most soldiers)her age, but she was still human-still had her limits, and her body was quick to remind her of that.

Still, it beat what was going on in her head.

All of this meant she really didn't notice Trunks until he was at her side with a towel. "Hey, Trunks."

And it was really bad when she called him by his name, instead of the nickname she'd given him.

Now he knew it was bad; not that he necessarily liked the nicknames, but that wasn't the point.

"I take it 'punching it out' isn't working for whatever's bothering you?"

"That only works if you're able to visualize your target." And for all that was bothering her, unfortunately there wasn't anything that had a punch-able face. Or rather, there were too many faces and not enough bags. "And I've been in combat enough that they all blur together."

To say nothing of her own regrets. "If you want a sparing partner, you'll have to wait a few minutes."

Now that she'd stopped, she was fully aware that her limbs felt like lead. If she was going to spar against her daughter's boyfriend, it wouldn't be when she was literally kicking her own ass.

"It's more you seem to be going at it hard lately. Moreso than normally--which isn't to say you don't give your best every time because you do." Trunks sighed, raking a hand through his bangs. "If you'd rather spar, we can do that. But I just...thought you'd like to know someone noticed, and is worried about you. Even if knowing that makes you want to punch them."

She sighed an ran a hand through her hair. "Don't worry, if I punched everyone who showed concern for my health I wouldn't have any friends left." And she had so few of them anyway. "Cassie can be a regular mother-hen if she sees me so much as sneeze."

And she can be irritated at her daughter all she wants, but she'd never punch her outside of sparing.

"Back home, there were a few times a year that...well, I just had to tread very carefully. Perhaps the subconscious remembers even if there's no familiar calendar."

"It could be." Trunks thought that sounded likely. "For what it's worth, I'm a good listener, if you want to share. If you'd rather just use me as a sparring partner, that's fine too. I just don't want to see you hurt yourself."

"I probably should take a small break." Probably...her body was screaming for one, and the practical side of her knew well enough that there was no actual reason for her to push herself past this limit if she could afford to.

"Not much to share." She draped the towel over her neck. "Just lived through a lot of wars that happen to coincide in april, different years, the same month."

She wondered if fate just liked to be as organized as she did. "At some point, I just end up dreading that time of year-worse than Halloween."

Halloween, atleast, had nothing to do with her life experience; it just meant a lot of people decorating with fake skeletons and gouls, when she dealt with them on a regular basis.

"I'd recommend a break." From how hard she'd been going at it, Trunks had been worried. "I can keep you company, or leave you alone. Whichever you prefer." He'd come over because he was concerned after all. "And like I said, I'm a good listener. Or I could share, if you'd prefer?" A lopsided smile, but genuine. "Not that my life has been all that great in some ways, pre-train."

They'd been low key looking to run into Sonya, to talk logistics and supply for the Red team, but this... really doesn't seem like the time or place, does it? They are tempted to turn right around and leave her to her playing, except-- they know that song. Old jazz standard, indeed: right out of the 30s, right out of the dance halls, one they actually don't have a copy of on their tablet but still know, in their bones.

When she stops playing in the middle of the song, she might just catch the sound of Soldat humming the next bar from near the train car door before they realize she stopped and go silent, sheepish. "Sorry."

She was so in her head that she didn't even notice there was someone else in the room, but then, that was why she started learning to play in the first place (to get out of her own head). Only when she stopped, tried to give herself a break, did she notice the humming and realize she was no longer alone.

The music car wasn't exactly labeled private, but it wasn't one of those carriages that gave reason for daily visits either.

"Don't be," She said. The notes were getting muddled in her head, not entirely a good mindset for anything. "I was giving myself a break anyway."

"You familiar with the song?" Had to be, if he was humming along.

They still really shouldn't have lingered specifically to listen. And, apparently, sing along. They do push up from the car door, though, and drift a little closer, since she doesn't seem like she's offended. "Yeah, I grew up with that song. Born in 1917." They have no idea what their actual birthday is, but they know it's in 1917. "Don't remember the name, though."

The aforementioned birth year had her study him a moment, quickly doing some mental math in her head.

"So that makes you from the..forties..fifties?" He couldn't have been any older than thirty-something, even if there was something in his expression that spoke of someone who, as Cassie would say 'had seen a lot of shit'.

She turned back to the sheet music. "This is some years before my time, but..I've a fondness for slow jazz, especially when trying to relax."

Well, it's a little more complicated than that.... Soldat ducks their head a little. They're not great at lying, or even dodging questions, so they just say up front: "I died in 2014. Actually. It's a long story, involving a lot of cryofreeze. But I'm technically ninety-nine years old. Ish."

Well, this was a welcome distraction. At the very least, there was the possibility of taking her mind off things.

"Believe it or not, yours isn't the strangest or..well, even if it is complicated it also makes sense-given what I've had to deal with back home."

Being in cryofreeze made sense on a scientific level atleast; nothing mystic or magical in that. "Well, for nearly being 100 years old, you look damn good-any idea when your next birthday is? That's a mile stone to be celebrated."

"I don't. I know the year I was born, but not the date." (Steve might know. ... you know, he might. Maybe we'll ask him.) "The people who had me in cold storage also took my memories." They shrug a little, somewhere between sheepishly apologetic and clearly aiming for showing they're okay even though that's terrible.

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kitchen

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Training Gym

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Music car

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