driftfleet | § 1st Fairytale

Entry tags:

§ 1st Fairytale

Who: Jilly Coppercorn
Broadcast: Fleetwide
Action: The Marsiva
When: Mid-day

[Action]

[there's no surprise when she wakes up. No stream of questions or panic or indignant disbelief. When Jilly sits up, she only has eyes for the massive bank of windows and the stretching, open expanse beyond. Her boots are almost silent as she pushes up from the cot and moves closer, just...staring. In a moment, she might notice anyone else awake and wandering around the Hospitality Deck and, eventually, she'll recognize the strange little communicator sitting on the table next to her cot. But--for just this moment--awe wins.

Once she shakes off the initial wonder, those on the Marsiva can find her....anywhere, really. Marveling at the view from the viewing bay, poking at the strange devices in the kitchen, or exploring the baffling maze of empty hallways--Drift Fleet has acquired one curious, tiny artist (just barely 5'0"!), and she's determined to see EVERYTHING.]

[Network]

[It takes awhile for her excitement to settle enough to sit down and check out the communicator, but that only makes her wonder return when she realizes that it feels...familiar. Christy had only just talked her into buying a home computer last month and she really hadn't done much with it, and yet she had no trouble at all finding the video function on this tiny device and switching it on for a close image of a pair of bright blue eyes. The image wobbles as she pulls it back to reveal a small-boned woman with a head of unruly curls (whatever magic Atroma used to get the paint out of the strands hadn't done anything to tame the tangles).]

Hello.

[She smiles, shaking her head slightly] I'm not really sure who I'm introducing myself too, but I'm Jilly. All of these messages...obviously the few of us on this ship aren't the first to show up. You can hear us, too, right?

[she has more questions, of course, but it doesn't feel urgent. For now she's just...curious.]

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Loud and clear. [ aha, a rookie. might as well be pleasant and say hello. ] I'm afraid there's a fair few of us out here. And I'm afraid, as well, that you may be sequestered for some time aboard that ship before your join the rest of us.

Hello, Jilly. My name is Peggy Carter.

Edited 2016-01-13 21:59 (UTC)

[and-- boop! another video feed pops on to show a boy with piercings and dyed hair, and a subtle haze to his eyes that goes along quite well with the stereotypical club-look he's got going on.

the pointed ears, however, are telling in a very different way.]

--Wait, what was your name?

Yes, we can hear you. And no, you are not the first to arrive here. Not by a long shot.

[Wanda tries to make it come off like a joke. It might not land though...]

[The feed offers up the image of a teal metal face with a horn-like protrusion, half-covered in a black and red cloak. The facial plates shift to mirror human expressions, and for the moment he looks pretty happy. His voice, is smooth, pleasant, and way too full of itself.]

Coming in loud and clear. Hello and welcome to the Fleet, Jilly! You don't seem too put out by the change of location. I'm Cayde, Personnel expert on the Bloodsport.

Edited 2016-01-13 22:38 (UTC)

[If Crowley answers the calls of the newbies, it's usually with sarcasm or disdain. Not now, however. This is a familiar face, and it brings a rare genuine smile to the demon's lips. ]

Doodle Girl.

Took your time getting back.

Welcome to this sinking ship. Population: who knows and rising. I'm Kanan.

[There's a manly sort of grunt and an under-the-breath curse. Clint Barton has one foot half-raised in the air. It hovers there a moment, because either he stubbed his toe or he kicked one of the exercise machines in a hopeless gesture of defiance, but either way he's clearly not doing it right. Exercising that is. This machine is for running on, obviously - it has a conveyor and everything - but Clint is getting down on his hands and knees now and fumbling with the supports and the railings, trying to find a place for his fingernails to slip in. A seam, a crack. But for all that, he doesn't seem lost or scared or desperate. Just -- focused. A man on a mission. A man on a mission on an treadmill.]

Hello, Miss Jilly! Your hair is very lovely.

[Much prettier than hers, anyway. Hers is usually very ratty — but since she got a haircut, it's at least been much nicer! She has the Sun Pirates to thank for that.]

I can hear you just fine. I'm the — um. I'm maintenance, from the Huntress!

[SMILE.]

Quite well. [His smile is an easy one- the sort that comes, not from conscious thought, but from an amiable nature.]

It is a pleasure, Jilly, though I might have wished for better circumstances. I am Finrod Felagund. [If he could bow over the communicator, he would. As it is, he has to settle for a quick nod.]

[ a video pops up. the girl in the video is late teens and has her hair braided. She's situated in a kitchen, with a mug of hot liquid ]

Don't worry, we all start out that way.

You got it.

[joining the other respondents is another guy--he's pale, handsome, wearing a lot of black, the kind of package that implies either, "I make terrible decisions," or "I'm trying way too hard." he's got a friendly smile, though, as he's leaning back in his captain's chair.]

And without any screaming or trying to break anything--I'm pretty impressed!

This is Anakin Skywalker of SS Paisley responding. The comms aren't the best but it receives pretty much anything that goes across the Fleet network. Someone not hearing you is the last thing you need to worry about.

Good afternoon, Jilly. Welcome to the fleet of Maddening Entertainment ...

[Tyrion stated, as he worked his way through a particularly difficult set of pipes and wires.]

I am Tyrion Lannister, of House Lannister.

[Woah, hey, this chick looks kind of familiar. Not familiar enough to put a name with a face, but enough to want to chime in while she figures it out.]

Us, and a few million viewers out there in space-TV land.

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