Sam Winchester (
collegedropout) wrote in
driftfleet2015-12-02 05:47 pm
Entry tags:
entry 001 | arrival
Who: Sam and [OPEN] to all!
Broadcast: Fleetwide
Action: Marsiva
When: December 2nd
[When Sam wakes up, he expects to be laying in his bedroom in the bunker, tired from a particularly long case (clown, there was a clown, he's getting too old for this shit—) but nope. He opens his eyes to stare at a completely foreign ceiling, in a completely foreign bunk. He's of course in his nighttime clothes, to boot. No weapons, no phone, no nothing. Okay. He considers all kinds of possibilities, first. Djinn? Some sort of curse? Witchcraft? Maybe even some sort of dream-root-related snafu, or angels being dicks (somehow). There's also that little elephant in the room, in the back of his head: dude, you know exactly how this kind of thing plays out.
He rises up, easy to spot among a milling, small group with his six feet and four inches of [giraffe-necked] height. When he finally sees the high-tech machinery, the casual and potentially oh-so-different newbies wandering, the absurd amount of space out there — he says but one thing in front of the people around him, first and foremost, to break the ice:]
Well. Shit.
[Well shit indeed. He doesn't panic, but he does suddenly crave another vacation, somewhere without rips in space and time (if that's even the case here; maybe he's a captive to some higher power, because that wouldn't surprise him at all). When he's got the broadcasting thing down — thanks Adstringendum for the life lessons on what to do first — he begrudgingly addresses yet another audience, slipping on that polite and professional (and, okay, exasperated) aura that he's good at.]
So, show of hands. How many of you out there have fallen into other universes before? Because this sort of thing's getting kind of old.
... Did anyone from Adstringendum show up? Guys? Don't tell me the PCD's teleporting feature is going on the fritz or something. I know it was kind of too good to be true, but it was going well for a few months there. [Silly Sam, nothing stays good forever. But he hopes, y'know?] Let me know if I'm riding solo here, fellas.
And, uh. This isn't exactly my first rodeo, sure, but it's the first time I've ever... um... been in space. So I gotta ask, for my sanity: where exactly do us new spacemen go from here? Other than shooting jokes about Roswell, New Mexico.
Broadcast: Fleetwide
Action: Marsiva
When: December 2nd
[When Sam wakes up, he expects to be laying in his bedroom in the bunker, tired from a particularly long case (clown, there was a clown, he's getting too old for this shit—) but nope. He opens his eyes to stare at a completely foreign ceiling, in a completely foreign bunk. He's of course in his nighttime clothes, to boot. No weapons, no phone, no nothing. Okay. He considers all kinds of possibilities, first. Djinn? Some sort of curse? Witchcraft? Maybe even some sort of dream-root-related snafu, or angels being dicks (somehow). There's also that little elephant in the room, in the back of his head: dude, you know exactly how this kind of thing plays out.
He rises up, easy to spot among a milling, small group with his six feet and four inches of [giraffe-necked] height. When he finally sees the high-tech machinery, the casual and potentially oh-so-different newbies wandering, the absurd amount of space out there — he says but one thing in front of the people around him, first and foremost, to break the ice:]
Well. Shit.
[Well shit indeed. He doesn't panic, but he does suddenly crave another vacation, somewhere without rips in space and time (if that's even the case here; maybe he's a captive to some higher power, because that wouldn't surprise him at all). When he's got the broadcasting thing down — thanks Adstringendum for the life lessons on what to do first — he begrudgingly addresses yet another audience, slipping on that polite and professional (and, okay, exasperated) aura that he's good at.]
So, show of hands. How many of you out there have fallen into other universes before? Because this sort of thing's getting kind of old.
... Did anyone from Adstringendum show up? Guys? Don't tell me the PCD's teleporting feature is going on the fritz or something. I know it was kind of too good to be true, but it was going well for a few months there. [Silly Sam, nothing stays good forever. But he hopes, y'know?] Let me know if I'm riding solo here, fellas.
And, uh. This isn't exactly my first rodeo, sure, but it's the first time I've ever... um... been in space. So I gotta ask, for my sanity: where exactly do us new spacemen go from here? Other than shooting jokes about Roswell, New Mexico.

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[Nothing about this place is accidental.]
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The last place had been one. A complicated one, but...
Are you saying someone brought us here purposefully?
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Sam--!
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Hey, Nami — been a while, huh?
It's good to see you and all, but does it always have to be weird circumstances?
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Y'know, that world sounds like the name of a disease. You might want to get looked at, because it sounds bad.
[And a slight pause, then as an after thought:] My friend Zuko's mentioned it before, if that helps.
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Their name doesn't ring a bell, but... you've got a point.
It's kind of a mouthful, huh?
What am I calling this place, then?
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[Action. Sort of.]
...but you know. Sam's welcome to note an extremely familiar red pinafored girl watching the stars like she's about to break into a Disney song.]
[Action. Maybe.]
He stands behind her, hand on his hip, and watches.
Child. Child, please. How can he happily greet you when you're stuffing your face? The answer is he can happily greet you even if you were throwing the food at him if he's 100% honest with him, that's how happy he is to see you.
... Pending... you know. A little negative feeling about kids being plucked from places. But he isn't so sure you can just throw Katie into any one category. She's stronger than he is, after all.
After a moment, he clears his throat.
Ehem.]
[Action. Definitely.]
[Action. Definitely.]
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I'm pretty sure that's everyone here. I've only met like, two people who might be native to this universe.
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Where're you from?
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I've been working on a guide for newbies, do you want me to just send you that?
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I take it new arrivals are a constant here.
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hey look it's an action tag
The newly arrived Sam will find himself greeted by a bear of a man, bearded and fat and standing at six and a half feet in height. In his hand is a plastic plate with a couple of unappetizing cubes that makes up his current dinner.]
Another one. Are you Abogan?
[No one has said yes to that question yet... but eventually someone will and then Robert can murder them.]
gasp!!
Oh my god, someone who's tall, someone like me.... Though, wow, you're a big fella. He'd hate to tumble with you.]
Uh. Came from Kansas, actually. United States.
[He wrinkles his nose at the plate in his hands, though, unable to stop himself.]
... I'm guessing that's our typical choice of food.
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[Voice]
I've been to Adstringendum.
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also wow rude he's not that weird
only slightly]
Your face isn't familiar; I'm guessing you vanished at some point.
Did Nami or anyone fill you in on what happened back there?
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We're all dispatched to our own personal crews?
Does this... thing behind my ear play some part?
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What's New Mexico?
[As if that's the most pressing of the questions he could be asking right now. But he's only just heard of the old one so far, and if they're joking about it, he wants to understand.]
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A place.
... Maybe not one you'd be familiar with. Where're you from, kid?
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And I've never fallen into other universes before... but I guess you could say I'm a Universe who's fallen into other things before! [he chuckles to himself for a moment.] ...Because my name's Steven Universe!
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Only you didn't, because you apparently don't remember falling into other places.
He smiles a bit.]
A time cop? No, but that sounds kind of cool.
I'm Sam. Nice to meet you, Steven. Settling in here okay?
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Are you from Earth, or somewhere else?
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video.
Us new spacemen are going nowhere worth noting, it seems. [ she's still sour over the realization that the fleet rarely stops in large cities or settlements developed enough to provide any sort of escape. ] Unless you're asking specifically about new conscripts on the Marsiva, in which case my best advice is to wait a week and see where the Atroma assign you.
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[He's not too keen on the idea himself. The accent proper way about her reminds him faintly of Bella, though less likely to shoot you in the shoulder over cursed rabbits feet. He hopes.]
I'm not surprised we're not making any headway. That'd be extremely convenient for people who want off this ride.
[Sam is super chill about all this, anyway.
If not just mildly beefed and exasperated.]
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[Visible in the edge of the frame is the magenta power armor she's wearing, helmet tucked under her arm.]
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How long in space are we talking, out of curiosity?
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[ The exception to this rule, aside from this adventure, being...Ken himself. That he knows of. ]
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Though, can't forget those who don't have the option. Or have a crappy world.
That's at least one thing to put some positivity into.
Would prefer to not be a space prisoner in the meanwhile, though.
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[He pronounces the name carefully; it's clearly the first time he's heard of it.]
You're new. Welcome. I'm Souji Seta. Please let me know if there's anything I can do to help.
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Right now, just learning my way around the place seems like the best course of action.
Think so?
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[Does he sound bitter about that? He sounds a little bitter. But he LIKES Sam, so he'll be vaguely helpful./small>]
As for what you do, you just hang about the Marsiva for a couple of days until the zip you to whichever ship you've been assigned.
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Another place? That makes three so far. Great.
[SAM YOU'RE A CELEB.]
And how exactly do they determine where we get placed, anyway?
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Dare I ask what Roswell is?
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