shoujoreject (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
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driftfleet2015-11-21 03:05 pm
shoujoreject) wrote in driftfleet2015-11-21 03:05 pm
Entry tags:
001 - Action/Video
Who: Qing and anyone
Broadcast: Fleetwide
Action: Marsiva's hospitality deck
When: Now
[It's amazing, how immediately things can change. How much can be lost in the span of a few eyeblinks, a whole walk home, a night of normalcy swirled in the realms of "probably" and "who knows". It permits the growth of terror in an individual, waking up in an unfamiliar place that feels like a hospital - simple metal walls, painfully clean, full of just the barest attempts to make it feel livable. It doesn't take long, fueled by that very same terror, to want out.
His only help is the familiarity of the qipao - not that he would have fallen asleep in the dress, he's sure - and the pair of hairties resting next to his communicator. Did someone drug him? There's no chance to be sure, though... they would have to, wouldn't they? Between the communicator mysteriously at his side and the faint feeling of something tugging at the back of his neck - the not-so-faint rigidity of something there when he reaches back to investigate - it seems clear. What isn't, of course, is why.
Why is something he won't find the answer to in a strangely-comfortable bed inside a metal box. So he does what he must - gathering what shreds of courage he can and sitting up - only to find the sight of a place that provides no comfort in spite of its attempts at amenities. When he speaks, the tone is soft and high, almost unequivocally feminine.]
... What is this... place...
[The question is asked to the open air and his arms wrap around his chest for a little warmth. His eyes widen when his gaze settles on the windows - the view of the open space beyond them - and he can't seem to look away for the longest time. This isn't possible. It can't be possible. The shock is clear on features far too smooth, too young for his age, wide violet eyes trembling a little in the very, very visible struggle to compartmentalise terror. Red hair hangs down to nearly his waist, furthering the illusion of femininity and adolescence.
Getting up almost too quickly, the wrinkles of his dress smooth and fatigued legs creak under him, but he ignores all that to move, to find someone to talk to - some answer to what the hell is going on. Anything to dim the fear that's still burning in the pit of his stomach.]
Broadcast: Fleetwide
Action: Marsiva's hospitality deck
When: Now
[It's amazing, how immediately things can change. How much can be lost in the span of a few eyeblinks, a whole walk home, a night of normalcy swirled in the realms of "probably" and "who knows". It permits the growth of terror in an individual, waking up in an unfamiliar place that feels like a hospital - simple metal walls, painfully clean, full of just the barest attempts to make it feel livable. It doesn't take long, fueled by that very same terror, to want out.
His only help is the familiarity of the qipao - not that he would have fallen asleep in the dress, he's sure - and the pair of hairties resting next to his communicator. Did someone drug him? There's no chance to be sure, though... they would have to, wouldn't they? Between the communicator mysteriously at his side and the faint feeling of something tugging at the back of his neck - the not-so-faint rigidity of something there when he reaches back to investigate - it seems clear. What isn't, of course, is why.
Why is something he won't find the answer to in a strangely-comfortable bed inside a metal box. So he does what he must - gathering what shreds of courage he can and sitting up - only to find the sight of a place that provides no comfort in spite of its attempts at amenities. When he speaks, the tone is soft and high, almost unequivocally feminine.]
... What is this... place...
[The question is asked to the open air and his arms wrap around his chest for a little warmth. His eyes widen when his gaze settles on the windows - the view of the open space beyond them - and he can't seem to look away for the longest time. This isn't possible. It can't be possible. The shock is clear on features far too smooth, too young for his age, wide violet eyes trembling a little in the very, very visible struggle to compartmentalise terror. Red hair hangs down to nearly his waist, furthering the illusion of femininity and adolescence.
Getting up almost too quickly, the wrinkles of his dress smooth and fatigued legs creak under him, but he ignores all that to move, to find someone to talk to - some answer to what the hell is going on. Anything to dim the fear that's still burning in the pit of his stomach.]
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[A promise only matters if there's an end in sight, doesn't it. Qing pauses then, bowing rather suddenly.]
A-ah! I'm Qing-Yuan, by the way. Apologies for my lack of manners.
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Kaioh Michiru. It's nice to meet you, despite the circumstances. [and she's inclining her head as well.]
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And you. [Greetings and idle chatter, those he seems much better at handling.] Um... may I ask... how long have you been here, miss Kaioh?
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[if it's pleasantries you want though:] Please, have a seat. Would you like some tea?
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... And for a moment, he actually looks surprised by the offer, though that fades quickly too.] Ah! It's really not necessary, I wouldn't want to inconvenience you. [He will take a seat, though.]
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[you're the one dealing with it, so she'll adjust accordingly]
What questions do you have for me?
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I'm really... not sure what to ask. Obviously, this is supposedly some sort of TV show, but what is it we actually... do? Surely, we don't just live our lives like nothing's changed.
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As to what we actually do, it really depends on the person.
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How do you mean, though? As far as what stressors are given, or just in reacting to them?
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[and then, here's the other side of the coin.] Of course, what they tell us may not be necessarily true either.
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[There's that, the part that's so glaring and impossible to confirm either way.] Mm. In some ways, it's probably better to assume that it's true... if it's all a lie, then that's even more depressing, isn't it?
[Not that it would mean they weren't jumping for someone's amusement either way.]
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[maybe this thing on the Marsiva has been more of a hiatus?]
It would be rather depressing, though it comes with a good amount of paranoia.
[she may or may not believe that part about the depression. Knowing the truth usually helps when she's planning things.]
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[Ah, but that makes Qing's head tilt just a little.]
... That's true, too. It's a weird situation, I suppose. So people just... try to live however they always did?
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[god, it's like it's impossible to get a straight answer out of this woman]
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That's sort of part of your norms, though. A different situation since we're in a different place to try and survive, but a person who panders to them is someone who probably would have done similarly with others, back at home.
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I'm a concert violinist, and I'm not too sure why I'm here either. [at the very least, you've technically got somebody in the same boat as you]