ThePastelKiwi

Climbing out of cryo, a slender woman stretches, her feet not even having touched the cold tile yet before a nervous expression takes her face before she remembers where she is. The freckled woman goes through the paces of restraining her wild, red hair into a messy ponytail. Wisps of ginger hair instantly slip loose to fall and frame her fair face, her green, doe like eyes taking a moment to adjust to being awake again before she slips off the bed and and pulls her backpack over her shoulder.

With how she dresses and holds herself it's easy to tell this woman does not see herself as pretty, but more of a wall flower. Her hands fidget in her pockets as she goes and waits in line at the lockers to pick up her tools as she had counted too many people in the room for her to feel welcomed. With an anxious smile and a kind voice she manages to greet who she will be working with that trip, her eyes search between the faces in hopes that someone she is more familiar with will be there to provide comfort and moral support should she get too overwhelmed. 

It isn't that she doesn't like people, it was never that, but her awkward anxieties tended to make her ramble and vomit her current thoughts onto the nearest victim relentlessly at times and so she came off as a little "odd". Nydia was more than aware of this but at the same time she only managed to realize what she was doing too late most times- three paragraphs into her rambling. Despite this though she keeps her friendly demeanor most times, often called "too nice" for her line of work or even a "push over" but as far as she was concerned: in a world where violence was too often the answer, she would do her best to try other solutions. 

Standing still for too long, Nydia had zoned out and the clearing of someone's throat behind her was her polite wake up from her day dreams so she grabbed her things and started to compulsively organize the stations she'd be working with. How many minutes would pass, or how many hours, until alarms would go off on the ship. She finds herself nervously counting the seconds as she works, her finger still tapping out the rhythm of a clock's gears as she greets the person who comes up to the other side of the sliding glass. Sometimes she felt like a broken record, greeting, agreeing and fetching items for each person who showed up but at the same time it was routine and that made her feel safe. Familiar things were safe. She was never a wild or unpredictable person. She had always just buried herself in her work, done her job and hid quietly in the belly of the ship. Until recently.

She'd been leaving the safety of routine, of the walls of her work and protection of familiarity. She was curious about so many things and because of them Nydia felt herself stepping out of the box she'd put around herself. Clicking her pen out of anxious habit she finds herself drifting into a daydream and though daydreaming for her was quite normal it was new to her to wonder what the day would bring without being filled with panic or dread at the possibilities of everything that could go wrong. Instead the ideas that came to her mind brought a small yet genuine smile on her face that only grew as her PDA notified her of a message with a quiet "beep" and even more so when she saw who the message was from.

It was them.