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.]
no subject
He... he? It? He's purple, and made of... leaves and bark... and on the upside, it's surprising enough that the fear at least comes to a pause. Plus, the way he talks is... well, it's not exactly dangerous-sounding.]
A-ah- I- [For a moment, Qing is well and truly flabbergasted. It isn't something that happens often, and as he turns his gaze from the potted plant and back up to Asteffiel... he can't help but smile just a little.]
... It is. [Maybe it's a little bit strictly polite, the expression on his face incredibly soft and gentle, and... in all honesty, the attempt is appreciated, even if it isn't as reassuring as the other expects. In the wake of it, Qing is just left trying not to stare at him too much.]
no subject
It probably doesn't help that in close inspection, it's pretty clear his face doesn't have a solid layer of bark over it. The lines and patterns are the result of tendrils, stems, leaves and a few thorns pressing together to make a human-ish face shape. And he does leave off blinking a little unnaturally long, but... at least he remembers to blink? ]
It's a baby orange tree! In a couple of months, it will be big enough I can start talking it into giving blossoms and then little oranges!
[ Because distracting from the strange things totally works. Even if he is the strange thing here, oops. ]
no subject
[Wait, but...]
Is that not dangerous for the tree? They usually take years to grow to maturity, don't they?
[Qing, you're talking to a plant-man. Why do you expect earth-logic to matter?]
no subject
I have some magic with plants! I am not as good as a Firstborn, but I can speed things up if I have fertilizer for them.
[ He has a way around earth logic- ]
... I can't speed up fruit growing though. They taste weird when I do, so I don't.
no subject
Qing supposes it's not impossible, given he's talking to someone who is, himself, apparently made of plants.]
A Firstborn...? [That's quickly set aside, though.] I wonder why they would taste weird in that case. Not enough nutrients overall, maybe...?
[Wait, that's not important...!]
no subject
Ah, but this. That is something Asteffiel also thinks on. ]
I think its.. that the way I grow them, the nutrients go into making the plant strong! And if I speed it up when they're trying to store things in a fruit, then.. the fruit grows, but doesn't get the nutrients it should! So the fruit takes time.
no subject
The latter part, though? Qing nods in response to that part.]
That makes sense. Well, at least as far as magic goes. ... I can't say I've ever known anything about magic.
... Ah! Um! I'm Qing-Yuan, by the way. [He'd offer a hand, but Asteffiel is holding a plant in both of his...]