A cry for help

[thespaceopera]

[a distress call has been tracked across the void, finally leading back to the source. a hulking crippled ship, teeming with hostile alien life, now lies before you.

what do you do? do you dive in or hang back? are you here to learn, play, build, or observe?

however you choose to proceed, your audience is out there somewhere, watching.]


ooc: here is a good ol' themed mingle to get you all started! and don't feel limited by the prompts and what they describe--they're just there as idea-starters, so feel free to go anywhere and do anything.

have fun!

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Comments

[forcemageure]

[ The question has been raised elsewhere, how it is that these two have survived any of their previous bouts of drinking, but it bears repeating in narrative. ]

Damn. I don't think going for the eyes would help, it's far too late for that. All in here, you see.

[ He taps a forefinger against his temple, thankfully not with the hand holding the dagger, although it was kind of a near thing. ]

[pirasea]

[Isabela raises her glass, slopping a good amount of the content everywhere. Not that she seems to notice.]

It's your own fault, you know. You were the one who brought it up.

[Because that was clearly exactly what he meant.]

[forcemageure]

I brought up no such thing. But in conversation with you we were bound to end up here eventually. [ A beat. ] Or somewhere even more horrible. You're like darkspawn, except instead of spreading corruption and filth, you ...well, spread corruption and filth. Just of the more fun sort, generally. Generally being when it's not about my uncle.

[ This is probably a compliment. ]

[pirasea]

[Why wouldn't it be? Isabela certainly seems to take it as such despite the generally negative connotations of darkspawn.]

I'm also much more attractive. Although after the day we've had I'm starting to feel as though I might smell like one. What do you think?

[She frowns down at herself, then presents him with the arm that isn't currently occupied with holding booze for sniffing. Hawke: official judge of when baths are needed, both in Thedas and in space.]

[forcemageure]

[ Hawke sniffs ...cautiously. These are the duties he must assume as a friend. ]

Well, you are emitting the gentle aroma of bug glop a bit, but so's everything in here.

[ Honestly, whose fault is that. ]

[pirasea]

Well, it would be a little pointless to bother cleaning it off in that case. It would only end up back on me again.

[Not if you cleaned everything, Isabela.]

[forcemageure]

What, are you planning to clean things by giving them stern looks?

[ Hawke can read narrative--no he can't. OR CAN Hno. ]