Arthur Morgan (
gunslinger) wrote in
driftfleet2015-06-05 01:31 am
video ☣ fleetwide
Who: Jr. & you!
Broadcast: Video (Fleetwide)
Action: Marsiva!
When: nowiiiish
[ If the communicator enjoys being on when someone's still waking up, it's in for the usual wtfery treat, and the deceptively boyish voice of this little dude isn't going to soften the language any. He awakens quickly, knocking the communicator right onto the floor in his hurry to jump up, the visual now of the ceiling. ]
What the hell?! Where—
[ There's some shuffling and then hurried clacks of boots darting across the room (checking out that window) and then quietly lingering near some of the video screens. Angry yes, but he wants to figure out what's going on before he panics. It's only a minute or two with muffled sounds in the backgrounds before he runs off to explore, can you blame him? It's another ten minutes before a distant: ]
Sons of bitches!
[ is released off-screen, and those clacking steps close back in with surprising speed, the communicator jarring around so his face can come into view, and it's not a happy face (but still a kid's face). Not enough info, and he can't find anyone who has real answers. ]
Hey! Where are my guns?! Atromos! You another Testament?! You watching in your crystal ball, and you want a show?! [ Literally shouted like this is NOTHING NEW to him, despite his angrypants. ] You think I care? Can't even lock me up for real? You're either lazy or cocky!
[ Good luck even getting a word in, friends, as he's off destroying as much as he can. If something can be knocked onto the floor, it's gonna be. If he can grab it and smash it, he's gonna. If a telekinetic blast can slam it into a wall, then bam. It's not just a rage fit; he wants to piss someone off enough to lure them out for confrontation. Then maybe he'll get somewhere. ]
Hey, hey, your ship is a pile of crap. I've seen better ships flushed into Federation scrapyards! Uglier than sin and the charm's kinda lost with this tacky communication gear. It's better off this way, trust me —
[ A few lights shatter in bursts as he walks down a hall, but his tone is actually growing calmer (if sharper). ]
— but if you don't think so, you better come and join the party or tell me where my friends and crew are.
Broadcast: Video (Fleetwide)
Action: Marsiva!
When: nowiiiish
[ If the communicator enjoys being on when someone's still waking up, it's in for the usual wtfery treat, and the deceptively boyish voice of this little dude isn't going to soften the language any. He awakens quickly, knocking the communicator right onto the floor in his hurry to jump up, the visual now of the ceiling. ]
What the hell?! Where—
[ There's some shuffling and then hurried clacks of boots darting across the room (checking out that window) and then quietly lingering near some of the video screens. Angry yes, but he wants to figure out what's going on before he panics. It's only a minute or two with muffled sounds in the backgrounds before he runs off to explore, can you blame him? It's another ten minutes before a distant: ]
Sons of bitches!
[ is released off-screen, and those clacking steps close back in with surprising speed, the communicator jarring around so his face can come into view, and it's not a happy face (but still a kid's face). Not enough info, and he can't find anyone who has real answers. ]
Hey! Where are my guns?! Atromos! You another Testament?! You watching in your crystal ball, and you want a show?! [ Literally shouted like this is NOTHING NEW to him, despite his angrypants. ] You think I care? Can't even lock me up for real? You're either lazy or cocky!
[ Good luck even getting a word in, friends, as he's off destroying as much as he can. If something can be knocked onto the floor, it's gonna be. If he can grab it and smash it, he's gonna. If a telekinetic blast can slam it into a wall, then bam. It's not just a rage fit; he wants to piss someone off enough to lure them out for confrontation. Then maybe he'll get somewhere. ]
Hey, hey, your ship is a pile of crap. I've seen better ships flushed into Federation scrapyards! Uglier than sin and the charm's kinda lost with this tacky communication gear. It's better off this way, trust me —
[ A few lights shatter in bursts as he walks down a hall, but his tone is actually growing calmer (if sharper). ]
— but if you don't think so, you better come and join the party or tell me where my friends and crew are.

Video
Most people don't know just what they're missing until I come along.
[ No time for that, Jr. (But joking aside, he still sounds tense.) ]
Who are you?
Video
Name's Crowley, and if I have to tell you that, I'm guessing you don't remember me. Or Paradisa.
Video
[ Creepy name for a creepy looking guy, sure sure. Trying to brush this off, but it's really strange and frazzling to have these people be all like 'HEY IT'S YOU' when they aren't from the Foundation or anywhere he should know.
SOMEONE OFFER MORE DEETS, not that it will really help the confusion. ]
Sorry... Paradisa sounds like a really tacky casino I'm probably better off forgetting. Especially if you swindled me.
Video
More like a tacky castle with major emotional problems, but close enough. And I am grievously insulted by the accusation that I may have swindled you in any way.
[He doesn't look grievously insulted at all. ]
Video
[ He doesn't sound sorry at all. ]
Definitely no swindling accusations, I swear! I mean obviously there was a castle. Dragons too, I hope? Did I save a princess?
Video
Couple dragons, as well, come to think of it. Most of those were dicks.
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Maybe you just weren't paying close enough attention. I'd definitely save the princess.
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Uh. Six? Seven years? Somewhere along that time. Longer than most, anyway.
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...It did feel longer than being on Earth, though. And yes, I have a lot of stories. Most of them terrible. Paradisa wasn't a happy place.