driftfleet | i ; video & action

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i ; video & action

Who: Octavia Blake and ??
Broadcast: Everyone
Action: Marsiva
When: Saturday morning (backdated)

[Luckily for Octavia's dignity, somehow her initial waking up freakout wasn't broadcast, so the first televised signs of her include the brunette leaning against the wall, curiously looking over her communicator. She jumps a little when it starts recording, but composure isn't too far off.

A raised brow greets the fleet, followed by a hesitant attempt at a smile. It's a bad one.]

So, space. [It's said in a very dry, unimpressed tone.] Anyone mind telling me what the hell's going on? I've got things to do, and this wasn't one of them... Whatever this is.

[She straightens, moving back to her initial bunk.]

And someone tell me what dick took my sword. I want it back.

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[He'll meet that glower with dead, even eyes. With a press of his lips together, he gives a belated smirk instead of... more escalation.]

Fingernails're back, if you ever wanna make it a party.

Strangely enough, I've been here just fine this whole time, and without any of your help.

Wow, that is strange. [Deadpan stare... followed by a sigh.]

Anything else useful to add? [It's not sarcastic or sharp, she's too preoccupied to deal with this shitty vitriol for long.]

[His lips press into a thin line, but his hackles are slowly lowering as her own do. Even Murphy has to admit that if anyone has a right to be agitated being back on a spaceship, it's Octavia. His life had to go to shit, but she was coughed up into a hot steaming pile of it.

He is visibly irritated, mostly about this being a fact that he has to know about her - and, if he really doesn't want to see that grounder side of her, he has to play nice. Justification comes in the form of telling himself that she's ratted him out before; she could do it again. His own skin first, right? Right.

Murphy exhales hard through his nose, raising a hand as he starts ticking off items on his fingers.]

Not gonna be stuck in that hole forever [1], so stop freaking. Prob'ly - get your ship assignment before the week's out [2]. And, uh, people here don't fix their problems by stabbing 'em unless they're in a saloon and they lose their minds because of whatever, so you're pretty shit outta luck, huh? [There's 3. The usual smirk's creeping back into place.]

'Least you're in good company.

[Animals have displayed similar signs of reluctant resignation. It's something she's seen on hunting trips and trips through the woods. Murphy may be a dick, but sometimes he's as predictable, too, when introduced to the right incentives.

Octavia rolls here eyes at his jab about stabbing people.]

Hey, it's not like I have anything to stab anyone with right now anyway. [Yeah, that's where she's taking this.] What ship are you on? Just so I know which to avoid.

[Octavia, stop dreaming about the machete. The machete is gone and you gotta deal with it.

Murphy looks less than impressed with her joke, eyebrows falling into flat lines.]

Me, I'm a lab support on the SS Shut Up. [Which could be an actual ship name, but probably is not.] Finding yours will be easy enough. You can just follow the trails of turd the horse leaves behind.

- You know, the high one. [see] That you're up on. [is also joke] All the time.

[She deadpans, mimicking his flatlined expression.] Ha. Ha.

I'm asking because I'm betting you don't want to run into me, either. It's a mutually beneficial question, Murphy. Unless you want to reminisce?

Octavia - I know how much you missed me. You don't have to be a tease about it.

[Despite everything he can hold against her, familiarity does breed strange comfort. He's talked to plenty in this fleet so far, but there's nobody else he's fallen in with so easily. Straight to bickering, on account of knowing exactly what Octavia is capable of.

But he's a realist. And they are not, nor have they ever been, friends. That's not exactly changing any time soon, Blakes and their goddamn grudges. But avoiding each other is probably easier said than done]

Y'know, lotta ships in this fleet but it's still a hell of a lot smaller than the Ark. Couldn't hide then forever so I don't know how exactly you're expecting to do it here.

[Civility was attempted, but when Murphy brings up the hiding bit, she's done with him. Again.]

I'm not the one who needs to hide here. Active avoidance is completely different, and if you keep this crap up, it'll be your best option real soon. We're the only ones from home, but that won't mean a damn thing if you continue to piss on any kind of decent interaction we might have now or in the future.

[Octavia means every word of it. Even if she doesn't like him, she doesn't actively hate him. Not really. Yet. Her drawn brows and narrowed eyes are eerily similar to the couple times he might have seen her run someone through with her sword.]

Edited 2015-10-04 02:29 (UTC)

Hey - whoa -

[If it's any credit to the newest, frankly intimidating tone in her voice, he actually looks startled when her tone changes over. She's got that hard look in her eyes that makes the hairs on his arms stand on end, right down to his itchy fingertips.

By the time she's finished, his face has sunken into something more sullen, kinda wary. He flexes his knuckles and eyes her up and down, but his tone lightens considerably.]

Alright, bad joke. [Nerve still very exposed.] I get it. [Well, taking notes, at least.] Outta bounds.

[After a moment's hesitation, he even tacks on a one word, muttered and barely audible:] Sorry.

[She won't say it's okay. She can't. It'll never really be okay. But the fact he apologized is surprising, yet welcomed. Somehow, Octavia knows he's not a complete write off, and this reaffirms that just a little.

Her expression softens-- back to normal, really-- and she nods.]

Yeah. [A small pause.] Thanks.

[She sighs, looking back at the feed.] Look, I just wanna know what ship you're on. It's not like I'll come visit every week or whatever, but it might be good to know.

[Adjusting to civilian life, as it turns out, is a miserable trudge through trial and error. Nobody ever taught him how to do this crap, but at least he spends more time with his foot in his mouth than he did a month ago.

She thanks him and his jaw clenches a few times, squaring as he looks at anything that's not eye contact with Octavia. Yeah, yeah, yeah. He decides on his sleeve, picking some invisible lint off himself for a while.]

It's the Windrose. That's me. Got a bed and everything. [Alright, he'll look at her again.] Can't complain. [He pauses, and sighs world wearily.] Well, too much.

[Octavia can't help but grin smugly at his uneasiness. It was both civil and uncomfortable for him. She can live with that. Patiently sitting there is all that happens until he finally gets the balls to address her again.]

High class, huh? [She snorts.] You wouldn't be normal if you didn't.

What I'm here for, right?

[Hey, it's been a while here, with hot water sometimes and a room of his own and entertainment and people who talk to him sometimes. Civil and uncomfortable he can muster, if it means he gets to sleep in a bed, sit on a toilet, and eat food every night. Simple things, call it the new war cry.

For now, anyway.]

Much as I miss the woods. [Said with about as much excitement as expected.] Which must be fan-flipping-tastic right about now, huh?

I'd take solid ground, woods or not. [And she means it for obvious reasons.

But now, it kinda seems like their business is wrapping up. Octavia pauses before indicating as much with her next question.]

So do you want me to bother telling you when I get my ship assignment?

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i ; video & action

gonna eat raven and fly away from this conversation more like

dude that's gross she's with wick anyway

too bad flight is being achieved on this day

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