driftfleet | i ; video & action

Entry tags:

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.

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

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

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.

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.

[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.

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

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.

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.

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.

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

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

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

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

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.

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.]

[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.]

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.]

That's better than most science fiction would have you think. Usually the apocalyptic deal is an excuse to spin a long-ass yarn about how humanity's set back to the stone ages or something equally trite. Technology sucks, or whatever.

[He has a really weird perspective for this stuff. Sorry, world.]

On the ground it does, for the most part. Medicine's been pretty helpful, I gotta say.

Sounds like it would be with the survivalist jam. A lot of the ships here have lab techs, but I don't think we need medicine too often. It's kinda boring a lot of the time, to be honest.

Keep it boring. Watching your friends die isn't the type of "exciting" you want.

[Her voice is deadpan, except for the mocking in the last few words.]

[There's a pause.]

No. [It isn't sad or even melancholy; if anything, he sounds sick to death of death. Weary of it.] It really fucking isn't.

But [and his tone flips right back to dryly monotonous] it doesn't seem like Atroma's too keen on letting their hostage investments go to waste. No one's died yet since I got here, so I guess I gotta resentfully give them props for that.

Hm. [That's her own reluctant agreement of the prop giving.]

How long have you been here?

Like five months. Something like that. [Exactly like that.]

There were a couple mysterious attacks—though I missed out on the first one—and a ship full of zombie bug people, but nothing lethal on our end.

[If only he could see her face now.]

Glad I missed all of that, honestly.

[He forgets how off the wall this shit sounds sometimes. But nah, totally fair.]

Damn, and here Atroma probably thought this shit would have potential contestants lining up in droves. Their premise backfired on them.