Dracule "Hawk Eyes" Mihawk (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
dualcross) wrote in ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png)
driftfleet2015-11-21 01:18 pm
dualcross) wrote in driftfleet2015-11-21 01:18 pm
01 - Action/Video
Who: Dracule Mihawk and Anyone else.
Broadcast: Video - Fleetwide.
Action: Marsiva.
When: Now.
[It's the annoying chill that stirs the swordsman from sleep, already frowning as he pulls back the sheets and cracks his neck once. Chill tends to stiffen one's body and bones. Now, as her rubs his face with a long yawn, Mihawk peers around at the unfamiliar space, the even more unfamiliar clothes, and his scowl only seems to set in place. He's not unfamiliar with being dragged from his home, his world and thrust into a whole other one on the whims of whatever nonsense that sees fit to haven him there, but there is one thing that is lacking the confined space he finds himself in.
One very large and exceptionally important thing.
At the very least his clothes and his cross necklace (doubling as a small, concealed knife) are inside the chest. After dressing, he sweeps up his communicator and easily flicks it on. He's had previous experience with gadgets like this, after all. He doesn't care where he is, how he got here, what his purpose for being here is. Mihawk has not a care about that frivolous bullshit, he just wants to know--]
Where is my sword?
[Later, after Mihawk has heard enough, he's gone to explore and to look for his sword. Regardless of what he's been told, he's not parting with Yoru so easily. One way or another he's getting it back. He doesn't look any angrier than usual as he prowls through the halls like a stalking wildcat, but the sheer presence of him, the sharpness that hides in the edges of his golden eyes...it's obvious Mihawk's not at all pleased with this so-called fine print. Not in the least.]
Broadcast: Video - Fleetwide.
Action: Marsiva.
When: Now.
[It's the annoying chill that stirs the swordsman from sleep, already frowning as he pulls back the sheets and cracks his neck once. Chill tends to stiffen one's body and bones. Now, as her rubs his face with a long yawn, Mihawk peers around at the unfamiliar space, the even more unfamiliar clothes, and his scowl only seems to set in place. He's not unfamiliar with being dragged from his home, his world and thrust into a whole other one on the whims of whatever nonsense that sees fit to haven him there, but there is one thing that is lacking the confined space he finds himself in.
One very large and exceptionally important thing.
At the very least his clothes and his cross necklace (doubling as a small, concealed knife) are inside the chest. After dressing, he sweeps up his communicator and easily flicks it on. He's had previous experience with gadgets like this, after all. He doesn't care where he is, how he got here, what his purpose for being here is. Mihawk has not a care about that frivolous bullshit, he just wants to know--]
Where is my sword?
[Later, after Mihawk has heard enough, he's gone to explore and to look for his sword. Regardless of what he's been told, he's not parting with Yoru so easily. One way or another he's getting it back. He doesn't look any angrier than usual as he prowls through the halls like a stalking wildcat, but the sheer presence of him, the sharpness that hides in the edges of his golden eyes...it's obvious Mihawk's not at all pleased with this so-called fine print. Not in the least.]
Re: action;
[The drink she'll accept. They haven't tried poison yet, and somehow she gets the feeling if they do, it won't exactly be the end of this. More and more it's seeming like there's some sort of ultimate endgame waiting for all of them, and they're pretty eager to hold onto her so far, so...cheers. She lifts the bottle towards him in a toast before drinking.]
Lots of theories on their reasoning. Nothing concrete from the folks that put us here, really, aside from giving everyone basic survival knowledge and keeping those from less advanced worlds from panicking. Notice how you don't seem to be thinking twice about being in space.
action;
Frankly, that is not because of some implant. This is the second time I have been removed from my world and put into another, thus the novelty has long since worn off... Aside, my home harbors oddities to which are a daily occurrence - this is just above average of the usual nonsense. [He leans back and takes another gulp. Home sweet home, crazy though it may be, Mihawk isn't easily ruffled.]
Re: action;
[Another one who's a stop or two away from home. Interesting. She's started making notes of who's here fresh from their world and who's coming from another alternate. Not sure if it'll lead anywhere, but some data's better than none. She wishes Atroma had sent her books from her office on the Windrose along, but not much point in hoping now. Instead, she shrugs, drinks.]
You aren't the only one here with that story. Seems like there's a lot of powers out there that like playing Barbies with people just trying to live their lives.
The implants tell you how to take care of basic necessities up here. How to use your comms, how to carry out your duties once you're stationed on a ship--assuming we ever get back to our ships again--but they can also screw with your head. Affect your emotions and responses, your memories. Might want to watch for that.