andeverythinginbetween | (no subject)

It's one of the ugliest and most beautiful things she's ever seen. It's not her first time at the Mailbox, but it's her first time there with a real purpose. She's got a package in her hands, and she's running her thumb over the address.
Nyx, Sidera c/o Nexus Operations
The Nexus
The Heleus Cluster
The Andromeda Galaxy
She looks at the mailbox, then re-reads the sign on it. She has no idea if this is going to work. She has no idea if it's even worth trying. But she pulls open the drawer and drops the package in, anyway. It hits the other letters and packages inside it with a satisfying clunk, and she steps back, then gracefully lowers to sit, legs crossed at the ankles, elbows on her knees, like she'll actually get to see something happen. Like some sort of magic, or maybe a satellite from outside of the city's limits, will beam the package up and directly to her sister, in the blink of an eye.

She sighs, allowing herself a moment of homesickness. She's done her best, so far. She just wants to pretend that this is another job, some errand Kesh sent her on. Find me a pocket universe with lots of weird shit in it, she'd say. Easy as cake, Kesh, Vetra would reply, and Drack, listening in, would say, That's pie, Vetra.

She sighs again, mandibles splaying wide in a grimace before she pushes herself to her feet.

"This is stupid," she decides. She brushes blades of grass from her shorts and bi-colored legs, then brushes her hands off.

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"Yeah, it's stupid," he answers. "But it's worth something, if you're using it." Poison leans on the mailbox, looking over it at the-- the alien? He has no idea, but she looks like an alien, and that's pretty fucking cool. She's more foreign than even the Iron Bull, who has a lot of humanoid features even if he has horns and gray skin.

He fluffs his hair, still watching her.

She looks over at him, eyes narrowing briefly. Then she sighs a little.

"It's just a way to bring peace of mind to the lonely transplants of Darrow," she points out. There's a little bit of derision in her tone, as if she herself hadn't just used the mailbox for that very purpose — or as if she's unwilling to admit that she's just as lonely as anyone else that might be using it.

"Sure is. Peace of mind, closure, feeling like maybe you can still reach somewhere else." Poison shrugs. "It's whatever you need it to be. I'd know. I made it."

"I wondered," she admits wryly. A brightly colored creation of a brightly colored person. "It's . . . nice. I'm sure it's not entirely selfless. Anyway, I'll get out of your way, if you . . ." She gestures helplessly at the mailbox, like maybe he'll want privacy for whatever he's here to use it for.

"It's not remotely selfless. I needed it, but I figured other people might need it, too. I wasn't wrong." Poison shrugs, then lifts his eyebrows.

"I'm just passing by," he says. "I check on it now and then, add shit to it."

"By 'shit' do you mean decorations?" she asks, gesturing to the many colors and pictures on it. "Or mailing items?" Mailing items that'll never see the people they're meant for, she wants to say, but there's no sense in quashing his hopes as well as her own.

Poison grins. "Yeah, the decorations. I also drop things in now and then." Almost once a week for some; others, less these days. "Other people have added stuff to it since I made it, which is kinda cool."

"Don't you worry that someone's gonna break this thing open, or even take it from its spot?" she asks. It's a pretty open space, with no surveillance that she can see, and at a glance, it doesn't seem like the mailbox is bolted down to anything. It would probably be nothing at all for someone to break the door open and take everything from inside, or else just empty it to haul it off as a trophy.

Poison shrugs. "Maybe I've booby-trapped it," he says with a faint smirk. "No one's fucked with it so far, and if they did, I'd make another, and I'd definitely fucking protect that one. But why would anyone wanna break into it? Why would anyone wanna steal it?"

"I don't know," she says with a little shrug. "Why do people do anything they do? I've seen a lot of things, and I've seen that people tend to be selfish and stupid." Maybe it was telling, that that's where her mind went first, but Vetra thinks it's a valid worry.

"It's been here a year, so far so good." Poison smiles small and shrugs a bit. "And if anyone fucked with it, I think more than just me would be pissed off."

"Good point," she says. She eyes him, then offers her three-fingered hand. "I'm Vetra, by the way."

Poison leans close to accept her hand. "I'm Party Poison." As he draws his hand away he gives a little salute. "How'd you find out about the box? Or did you just see it and read the thing?"

"I saw it, and read the thing," she confirms. She's gentle when she shakes her hand. It's not like she's so strong she could actually hurt him, but human hands seem so frail next to hers, with their tiny fingers.

"Party Poison, huh? That's not your standard human name."

"I'm not your standard human," he quips, because it's fucking cheesy but he carries it off with a wicked, manic grin that hints at all the sharp edges hiding inside him.

"You're not, huh?" she asks. She watches him with something like amusement, but it's hard to see on her face. "And what makes you non-standard, besides your name?"

"C'mon, look at me," he quips, grinning. Poison shrugs one shoulder. "Not a lot of humans think it's a great idea to create and lead revolutions."

That has her attention, and she thinks about the mutiny aboard the Nexus after the Scourge and the kett had started shaking things up.

"Revolutions, huh? Against what, if you don't mind me asking?"

"Better Living Industries," he answers. "A corporation that is thoroughly dedicated to making people... manageable." Poison makes a face at the memory.