i ; video & action

[grounds]

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.

Comments

[grounds]

It's not shitty. [Her tone's annoyed, but she works through that.] We don't really worry about sword types. As long as it slashes and cuts, it'll work.

Mine's got a sort of curved blade near the end, sharp on only one side. The blade's about twice as long as the handle... hilt? There's no hand guard like I've seen in older pictures.

[The word she's looking for is machete. Basically.]

[feathery]

Older pictures.

[It's that combined with her reaction to space that makes him abruptly change tracks.]

Hang on a sec, we can talk sharp objects more later. I mean, if you want. But are you from the future, too. What year is it, man. [Sorry for his transparent curiosity.]

[grounds]

[Octavia gives an annoyed sound at the question.]

What is it with everyone asking that. It's 2149. We've lived in space for the past one hundred years because of nuclear war. We just recently arrived back on Earth to live there again. So yeah, older pictures. Keeping quality records of ancient weaponry really wasn't at the top of the to do list. It probably fell somewhere between breeding a quality sheepdog and cataloguing the different shades of rust around faucets in the kitchens.

[feathery]

Goddammit. Why the fuck is it that almost every time someone comes from the future, it's a complete fucking shitshow. It was the same deal in Asgard. I mean if you want to get technical, the reality I'm from is a complete shitshow and it's like. Only kind of the future, since most Earth types are from farther on.

[He's rambling.]

Oh well. People are probably asking because most of us are from around, I dunno. Early 2000s, if we got a clue. But hey, you got to go back to Earth. I guess that's pretty cool.

[grounds]

[He can't see it, but she's staring at the communicator like it suddenly changed color. And probably shape.]

Uh, sure. I really have no idea what you're going on about. You asked about the sword, and now you're rambling about some mythological land.

[feathery]

Yeah, sorry. That happens a lot. The confusion.

[He's so used to it at this point.]

Long story short, a lot of us have been kidnapped by interdimensional portals before and one of them was a shithole named Asgard. We can go back to the sword, though, if that's more inoffensive a topic. Easier to wrap your head around, at least.

[grounds]

Right. I'll process that later.

[She sighs, before happily switching back.] So, what does it sound like to you?

[feathery]

Can't say for sure without seeing it, I think, since a lot of shorter blades could fit that description. A machete is pretty much the go-to option in survival situations, though. If, uh, Earth is in such rough shape you need survival options, anyway. I'm guessing it is if rust cataloging became an actual thing.

[grounds]

[There's a snort at his response.] No, that's not an actual thing as far as I know. But survival is. The people we met there have a lot of stuff they've salvaged from old cities. I'm not really sure if types of swords even matter.

[feathery]

They matter sometimes. Like if you want a blade similar to what you used to have.

[But he doesn't sound too worried about it.]

Atroma doesn't care too much about arming us. You get guns if you've got a security augment and that's about it.

[grounds]

That's what I've got. So there's that. [Yup.] Maybe on another planet soon.

[feathery]

Oh, then you're set. They give you a whole fucking room of guns on whatever ship they dump you on. Unless you got a preference for swords no matter what, then yeah, you're gonna have to wait until we hit another planet. Or a waystation.

[grounds]

I've got a preference, but I can use guns just fine. [It's nothing like a comic book hero moral problem either. Swords are just better.]

You see a machete, let me know? Name's Octavia Blake.

[feathery]

[Davesprite knows that feel.]

Sure. If you spot any other kind of generic sword, shit or not, let me know. I might as well start up another collection if no one else wants 'em.

I'm Davesprite. Resident bird mascot of the Wonderduck.

[grounds]

Yeah, sure. Maybe sell them if you're that type of person, too. [She makes a 'heh' sound.] All right. Thanks for the info.

[feathery]

Right, I'll make mad bank by ripping people off as an interstellar sword merchant. Get my space MMORPG on.

But no prob. Dispensing info is what I'm all about. [A beat, before he adds dryly:] When I'm not perplexing everyone with my indecipherable pre-show existence.

[grounds]

Sounds like a plan to me. And sorry, but a lot of your expressions are going to be lost on me. Nuclear apocalypse and all that.

[She raises a brow to herself, but doesn't ask. There's enough to take in right now.] Let's put that last one on hold until later.

[feathery]

Yeah, that's cool. Kinda used to it by now. I mean it sucks, but if we're being realistic, it's not like you're missing anything; it's just extra bullshit that might be funny if you get it. There's probably terminology you'll use that goes over my head.

[He has accepted his fate and knows the way he talks can annoy the shit out of some people.]

And don't worry about the last one. It's not that interesting anyway, just fucking dumb in its convolutedness.

[grounds]

If anything, it's easy enough to explain. Just ask if you want.

[She'll take him up on that suggestion.] Consider it ignored.

[feathery]

Cool. So, can I ask what Earth's like post-nuclear wasteland. If that's not weird.

[grounds]

Weird's pretty subjective here. And what do you want, a comparison? Because I'm really in no place to offer that.

[feathery]

Nah, I just mean what does it look like in general. Is it an ugly fucking barren crater or is there some semblance of, I dunno. There's got to be some shit left if anyone can live there. I don't really care about comparisons or objectivity, for the record; I'll take the most hella subjective interpretation you've got. Like, uh, I grew up in Houston. Hot as fuck, enough noise pollution to drown out the singing of hideous space calamari at night, and a goddamn concrete jungle as far as the eye can see. Also a lot of crows.

[grounds]

No craters that I've seen. [Only helped make.] There're a lot of trees and rivers. Remains of cities and landmarks, too. There were survivors we didn't know about. They turned into a whole different culture.

[She kinda likes them.]

[feathery]

[Idly wondering if the version of Earth he's from looked like that years in the future, even if it was only populated by bug people.]

So no electricity or plumbing, then, huh. [With just enough inflection to indicate it's a joke.]

[grounds]

There's some crude set ups at base camp, but nothing extraordinary. Generators and stuff. We're making do.

[She's not really phased by it. Just another day in paradise.]