[ The first thing Sara notices--aside from the obvious, from the whole apparently kidnapped out of her damn spaceship thing, from the whole 'where the fuck am I' thing--is that Sam is gone. Considering that she spent the significant majority of her life up until now without an AI in her head, it's surprising, just how empty her own mind feels without him. She keeps trying to think in a distinctly 'talking to Sam' type of manner, and each time resounding silence is her only answer.
It's oddly lonely.
The good news is that she isn't dead--unless the afterlife is a lot weirder than previously advertised--which was one of the major concerns with Sam suddenly missing. It's not worth pondering the details on that, not when that previously mentioned 'kidnapped from her damn spaceship' is still a thing and leaves much more pressing things to be pondered over.
The first attempt to do anything about this involves pestering the assistants, who are remarkably resistant to offering any assistance. ]
Look, I don't know what's going on, but--Listen, I'm a Pathfinder. From the Initiative. You know, the Initiative? I need--Look, I was in the middle of something very important--Hey!
[ Whoever she was trying to shake down for information brushes her off with the ease of the finest bureaucrats the Citadel had to offer, leaving Sara standing there in the middle of the lobby, hands on her hips. ]
Hello--! Hello?
B;
[ Well, she hasn't quite puzzled out how to escape this bizarre place, assuming this isn't just some ludicrous dream, or a crazy acid trip from some strange Andromeda drug she hadn't realized she'd ingested. Either way you shake it, she was here, and that meant she needed some essentials. Like clothes.
Unfortunately, there were no attendants here, and the computer was remarkably unhelpful with catering to her very specific needs. ]
Listen, I just want some Blasto merch, B-L-A--Oh, come on.
[ Every time the computer fails her, she reaches for her left forearm--nothing is there, and when she stops just above her arm, she looks startled by the absence of whatever she was looking for. After that, she resorts to yelling at the computer. ]
Okay, just give me a picture of a big jellyfish, and I'll use my imagination. Please.
C;
[ Sara Ryder is officially in the middle of an existential crisis.
It's not the first time, and probably not the last, but it is the first time she's had to bare it completely alone. No Scott, no Sam, none of her crew--it's as lonely as it is liberating, because as much as she is currently lacking any system of support, there's no one depending on her to keep it together, no longer thousands of people looking to her to save them, no longer...anything. Pathfinder Ryder as anonymous and inconsequential as she ever was.
Which means that she can sit here, pool side, with old timey music blasting away. There's a fancy drink with a fancy little umbrella in front of her, but Sara is staring at some point on the table with a blank expression that says that her mind and her focus is far, far from this fancy drink.
However, don't let that stop you from bugging her, or making sure she hasn't just died, or whatever. ]
Sara Ryder | Mass Effect: Andromeda
[ The first thing Sara notices--aside from the obvious, from the whole apparently kidnapped out of her damn spaceship thing, from the whole 'where the fuck am I' thing--is that Sam is gone. Considering that she spent the significant majority of her life up until now without an AI in her head, it's surprising, just how empty her own mind feels without him. She keeps trying to think in a distinctly 'talking to Sam' type of manner, and each time resounding silence is her only answer.
It's oddly lonely.
The good news is that she isn't dead--unless the afterlife is a lot weirder than previously advertised--which was one of the major concerns with Sam suddenly missing. It's not worth pondering the details on that, not when that previously mentioned 'kidnapped from her damn spaceship' is still a thing and leaves much more pressing things to be pondered over.
The first attempt to do anything about this involves pestering the assistants, who are remarkably resistant to offering any assistance. ]
Look, I don't know what's going on, but--Listen, I'm a Pathfinder. From the Initiative. You know, the Initiative? I need--Look, I was in the middle of something very important--Hey!
[ Whoever she was trying to shake down for information brushes her off with the ease of the finest bureaucrats the Citadel had to offer, leaving Sara standing there in the middle of the lobby, hands on her hips. ]
Hello--! Hello?
B;
[ Well, she hasn't quite puzzled out how to escape this bizarre place, assuming this isn't just some ludicrous dream, or a crazy acid trip from some strange Andromeda drug she hadn't realized she'd ingested. Either way you shake it, she was here, and that meant she needed some essentials. Like clothes.
Unfortunately, there were no attendants here, and the computer was remarkably unhelpful with catering to her very specific needs. ]
Listen, I just want some Blasto merch, B-L-A--Oh, come on.
[ Every time the computer fails her, she reaches for her left forearm--nothing is there, and when she stops just above her arm, she looks startled by the absence of whatever she was looking for. After that, she resorts to yelling at the computer. ]
Okay, just give me a picture of a big jellyfish, and I'll use my imagination. Please.
C;
[ Sara Ryder is officially in the middle of an existential crisis.
It's not the first time, and probably not the last, but it is the first time she's had to bare it completely alone. No Scott, no Sam, none of her crew--it's as lonely as it is liberating, because as much as she is currently lacking any system of support, there's no one depending on her to keep it together, no longer thousands of people looking to her to save them, no longer...anything. Pathfinder Ryder as anonymous and inconsequential as she ever was.
Which means that she can sit here, pool side, with old timey music blasting away. There's a fancy drink with a fancy little umbrella in front of her, but Sara is staring at some point on the table with a blank expression that says that her mind and her focus is far, far from this fancy drink.
However, don't let that stop you from bugging her, or making sure she hasn't just died, or whatever. ]