driftfleet | When We're Rollin Through the Wild Wild West

When We're Rollin Through the Wild Wild West

Who: Everyone! EVERYONE!
Broadcast: IF YOU WANNA
Action: Everywhere! EVERYWHERE!
When: Mid-September - Mid-October

[How's your ship doing, pardners? Is it still pretty damaged? Is it glitching out hardcore? Well, there is one place to land to take care of all that, and that's on a dusty old moon in front of a planet that no one wants to go to. On this moon, you'll find a civilization that looks a lot like one's stepped into a wild west movie, hardened cowpolk and mutant horses and all. Will you become a vigilante, hunting bounties and stopping gangs from doing their dirty work? Will you go exploring planetside, with a cowboy hat and a stalk of wheat in your mouth to complete the look? Good luck with that; there is no wheat. This town ain't big enough for all you flooters, but make it so! For the ratings!

In other words, it's a planet mingle! Get 'er done!]

[September Planet info here]

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[a. ain't from around these parts]

[Dorian is, if nothing else, skilled as getting completely hammered. And that's exactly what he's doing now, smiling and gently waving with glass in hand to the newcomer at the bar.]

Ah, hello.

[And he smiles lazily. If anything, the alcohol has made him purr his words just a teeny bit toward slurring, but he seems chipper.]

[b. this town ain't big enough for the three of us- your character vs dorian and his ego.]

[From behind them, your character will hear over-exaggerated hacking and coughing, followed by wheezing.]

Kaffas! Can we just once, just once, have an excursion that doesn't involve the outdoors? Perhaps a trip to a spa planet? Oh, no, that would be far too eas-!

[And he's interrupted by hacking again as the wind picks up.]

[c. we don't take kindly to necromancers around here. (aka, choose your own adventure)]

[Any scenarios that don't fall under drinking and complaining about the dist and dirt go here!]

Edited 2015-09-20 05:49 (UTC)

[ -- the dark-haired woman walking only a few feet ahead of him turns (all at once) and lets her loose fists, knuckles down, against her hips. dust leaves spots and smudges on the dark fabric of the jumpsuit procured from the starstruck's supplies. so long as she's outside, it remains firmly zipped and buttoned and even the collar is turned up to discourage any invading dust motes. at first, she waves a hand in front of her face as if to discourage the gathering of any dusty smudges in the air.

perhaps someone else might roll their eyes at the man's complaint. and, indeed, peggy might have done so had she not first been seized by her newcomer's curiosity: ] Do most of our pit-stops doom us to bad weather, then? Hmm.

[ she'll assume he's someone from the fleet, if only because she can't imagine why else he might make that particular complaint. ]

Edited 2015-09-20 15:23 (UTC)

The last, we were at a planet that was all islands and water. I stayed inside the ship for the most of it.

[Dorian can complain about even a beach vacation.]

Sounds like a wasted opportunity to me. [ ...then again, she'd not been a member of the fleet. she'd not witnessed much of anything before the battle and this dusty moon. ] But to each his own, I imagine.

Oh, one of those.

[And he chuckles.]

Forgive me for not making introductions. I can assure you, I'm quite a bit more dashing when dust isn't invading my lungs. Dorian Pavus, of the Three Twins.

Edited 2015-09-20 20:59 (UTC)

Everyone is a sight more dashing in the absence of dusty lungs, Mister Pavus. [ ...she'll say nothing about being 'one of those', because she hasn't quite decrypted his meaning. perhaps her chuckles at her optimism, or else her mend-and-make-do attitude. either way, she doesn't take it personally.

indeed, she hardly seems piqued at all. ]

Peggy Carter. [ her steps slow. she offers a hand. ] And I'm quite afraid I haven't the foggiest where one finds the Three Twins. Is that merely an archaic way to say triplets or are we speaking of a set of six?

[ playfulness dovetails through her voice. ]

[He shakes her hand, smiling a bit and coughing just once.]

Oh, perhaps it is. I think the general consensus is three sets of twins...we do, after all, only have a capacity for six crewmates.

[He waves a hand dismissively]

Regardless, no, it is a ship, part of the Drift Fleet. I've been here eight months, at last count. You're new, I take it?

[He pulls a handkerchief from inside his robes and presses it to his mouth. He frowns- a soft creasing of his brow, and he scuttles next to a nearby building, waving her over and hoping for shelter from the wind and sand.]

Ah, better.

Very -- [ she confirms for him while shaking dust from her curls. very new. or can she still claim that qualifier when it's been a few weeks? she doesn't yet understand the spectrum upon which newness is graded. but she still feels new, and so she'll stick to that particular gun.

beneath shelter, she begins the idle process of wiping the dust-remnants off her clothing. ] I find myself billeted on the Starstruck. A far more straightfoward sort of name, if a little dire in its promise.

[He's probably off on one of his work things. Doing a job for X person for X reason. It's how he doesn't go crazy on these planet jaunts. He gives a soft, annoyed huff at all the dramatics. ]

You didn't have to come along.

[Dorian is busy tying a bandana around his face.]

No, I decidedly did not. I thought it might be fun. Oh! A couple's excursion. We hunt down bandits, you get covered in blood while I stay a safe distance away. We litter the ground with corpses. How romantic.

[Fenris pauses to give Dorian a long, pointed look. He has either missed the sarcasm entierly, or he's chosen not to acknowledge it. ]

This one is supposed to come back alive.

How dreadfully disappointing.

[Dorian shrugs, shifting the staff on his back.]

Very well, I will make every effort to only terrify him a bit.

I'm sure you will find some way to ease your disappointment.

[He makes a soft 'heh' sound, before turning back to all the walking. At least he doesn't have to worry about sand in his non existent shoes. There are perks to a footwear free existence. ]

You will restrain yourself from giving him your best glower?

Oh, no. I wouldn't dare attempt a glower in the presence of a master.

[And he chuckles softly.]

You keep to your skills, I'll keep to mine- while you glower, I'll pose and look dashing. That should be easy enough for the both of us.

And you imagine the bandit will be astounded by your posing? Perhaps he will repent his life of crime and become whatever this world's version of a cleric is?

[At least he sounds amused. ]

You give me too little credit! I've made many men in my life pray to the Maker...or, rather, shout for him very insistently. It is nearly the same thing.

[And then he laughs, his stupid snicker that's almost an imitation of an evil cackle.]

[Fenris pauses again to give Dorian a pointed look. ]

I think you should probably say that comment to yourself again and then decide at which point you should have stopped.

[And he does consider it, but he sighs, and his tone turns a bit serious.]

Amatus, I cannot change my sordid past, much as I might wish to. Did I wish to be a shameful secret for past lovers? No. I wish...no, I don't wish we'd met sooner. I believe things happen for a reason, and that I met you precisely when we were both ready.

[He sighs a bit. It was hard to talk about, and much as he knew that he belonged to Fenris, and had no desire to be elsewhere, he couldn't change that had happened to him. He couldn't change the drunken trysts, being kept a barely-held secret, and the scandal that it caused.

Dorian Pavus was a pariah not only because he preferred men, though the rumors and all-too-often blatant truths didn't help matters in the least. If anything, they were like the serration on a blade, making things like his radical politics and his unwillingness to back down all the more dangerous to him.]

But I believe it's better to make light of something like that. Better to laugh than to be screaming on the inside.

[It was a truth of him that if it where possible to laugh, even at his own expense, he would rather that than being left with the horrible reality of what he had faced in his own homeland.]

[Fenris heaves out a soft, annoyed sigh. Of course Dorian would take that hard, of course he would. Sometimes, Fenris forgets that the other man is so used to being under the light of scrutiny, in having his every move judged and marked against him.

He steps forward, tugging gently on the front of Dorian's robes, the talons of his gauntlets probably doing nothing to whatever exquisite clothing Dorian has had them made from. ]

I don't expect you to hide anything.

[Another gentle tug, and then he rests his palm on Dorian's chest. ]

Though it seems we are both in need of practising our bantering skills a little.

[He chuckles. He doesn't mind Fenris's roughness, not anymore. He may make a token protest every now and again but, with all honesty, the push and pull of their relationship is like a grounding force.]

So it would seem.

[He tugs down the bandanna tied around his face and takes the gauntleted hand in his. It's more a claw than a hand, more talons than fingers, and he gently kisses his palm.]

[His lips curl into a small smile, leaning in to press a kiss to Dorian's lips, before replacing the bandanna. ]

Now come along, I do not want him to get wind of me. It would make capturing him a lot harder.

(no subject)

serpentis - 2015-09-20 23:02 (UTC) - Expand

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wolfuncaged - 2015-09-20 23:25 (UTC) - Expand

]Sup man she doesn't know who is drunk enough to wave at strangers.

How's it going with that sex voice of yours.]

_{[ He turned at the sound, the wind kicking at the duster he had found for himself, stark and brown against the whites he had worn down from the ship - though they were less white and more dusty by now. Still, contrast. He frowned in concern and came back to Dorian, pulling out a kerchief from one of his pockets and holding it out to him. ]}

Try wrapping this around your nose and lips. I have seen some of the locals do it - I believe it a method to deal with the dust in the air.

[He'll take the advantage the intoxication might give him towards making the conversation go more smoothly than others have in the past]

Dorian. You've been rather reclusive as of late. I was beginning to be worried you'd locked yourself inside permanently.

[She slides into place beside him easily, two new drinks in hand. She slides one over to him, then grins at him as she gets comfortable.]

You must be pleased to be on solid ground again.

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