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touchofrogueWho: Rogue
Broadcast: Voice, Fleetwide
Action: Aboard the Marsiva
When: Tonight! Sometime after normal dinner hours.
[Bored. Bored. Bored.
Right, okay, so there was tension and so much suspicion and perhaps the ship falling apart and perhaps clues toward Atroma's past and specific directions to not look into suspicious circumstances (Ha!) but to bond with fellow passengers (double ha!) and real food and real coffee and actual sleep at night (vague or startlingly vivid dreams not withstanding, but... but it was like being a kid at the end of a long summer. You didn't want school to start up again. But Gawd, you needed something to do.
At least on the ship she had people to cook for, things to do -- same thing in Luceti. There was responsibilities, routine, some measure of purpose even if it was mostly self-imposed.
Here there was nothing except the blackness of space, the press of strangers, and of course -- all the mindless entertainment and access to punching bags a girl could want.
Rogue can be found making use of that punching bag, or flopped into one of the entertainment cubicles with a pile of questionable reading material beside her. She is clearly getting fed up with one of her favorite pass times - laughing at bad romances, muttering underneath her breath, until finally she makes a broadcast:]
Okay, if you're not bored you can just turn this off right now. There is absolutely no strategic value in what I'm going to say.
[She pauses a long moment and waits. Then continues:] But if ya are bored then maybe ya can relate ta wantin' ta lose yourself in a good book. Me too. But okay, I'm not sure I'm actually bored enough for this. [Rogue picks up a book and began reading at random.]
"Besides, friends don’t let friends drive drunk.”
“Drunk?”
"You’re intoxicated by my very presence.”
See, that'd be funny if it was sarcastic, or if she smacked him, but I'm not seein' it. An' then there's:
"I loved him with every cell in my body, every thought in my head, every feather in my wings, every breathe in my lungs. And air sacs."
Air sacs, people. Air sacs. Somebody's gotta help me out, I'm drowin' in this stuff here an' it's not even funny anymore. I either need someone ta come mock things with me, or -- I don't know. Has anyone tried pourin' soapy water on the floor an' goin' sliding yet? 'cause I think that might be my next step...
Broadcast: Voice, Fleetwide
Action: Aboard the Marsiva
When: Tonight! Sometime after normal dinner hours.
[Bored. Bored. Bored.
Right, okay, so there was tension and so much suspicion and perhaps the ship falling apart and perhaps clues toward Atroma's past and specific directions to not look into suspicious circumstances (Ha!) but to bond with fellow passengers (double ha!) and real food and real coffee and actual sleep at night (vague or startlingly vivid dreams not withstanding, but... but it was like being a kid at the end of a long summer. You didn't want school to start up again. But Gawd, you needed something to do.
At least on the ship she had people to cook for, things to do -- same thing in Luceti. There was responsibilities, routine, some measure of purpose even if it was mostly self-imposed.
Here there was nothing except the blackness of space, the press of strangers, and of course -- all the mindless entertainment and access to punching bags a girl could want.
Rogue can be found making use of that punching bag, or flopped into one of the entertainment cubicles with a pile of questionable reading material beside her. She is clearly getting fed up with one of her favorite pass times - laughing at bad romances, muttering underneath her breath, until finally she makes a broadcast:]
Okay, if you're not bored you can just turn this off right now. There is absolutely no strategic value in what I'm going to say.
[She pauses a long moment and waits. Then continues:] But if ya are bored then maybe ya can relate ta wantin' ta lose yourself in a good book. Me too. But okay, I'm not sure I'm actually bored enough for this. [Rogue picks up a book and began reading at random.]
"Besides, friends don’t let friends drive drunk.”
“Drunk?”
"You’re intoxicated by my very presence.”
See, that'd be funny if it was sarcastic, or if she smacked him, but I'm not seein' it. An' then there's:
"I loved him with every cell in my body, every thought in my head, every feather in my wings, every breathe in my lungs. And air sacs."
Air sacs, people. Air sacs. Somebody's gotta help me out, I'm drowin' in this stuff here an' it's not even funny anymore. I either need someone ta come mock things with me, or -- I don't know. Has anyone tried pourin' soapy water on the floor an' goin' sliding yet? 'cause I think that might be my next step...
