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driftfleet2016-01-23 08:34 am
ofkirkwall) wrote in driftfleet2016-01-23 08:34 am
Entry tags:
001.
Who: Marian Hawke & you.
Broadcast: Fleet wide
Action: MARSIVA, aww yeah.
When: Now, until shuffle.
[ Maker's balls it is cold.
Waking up in strange places isn't so unusual in Marian's Hawke's life, she's fairly to it by now, so she barely bats a sleepy eye when she rolls over and curls in on herself. Half mumbled words tumbling from her lips in a incoherently mess, fingers curling around whatever they can grasp in a desperate attempt to conserve heat. This continues for a good few moments until the woman manages to roll straight onto the cold metal floor. ]
─Aahh! [ There is no better way of waking someone up than a quick drop onto a cold floor - well... a bucket of water would have done as well, but thankfully there are no buckets to be seen.
It has her awake, alert as someone still gluggy with sleep can be, mope of black hair strewn about this way and that. Heart thundering in her chest a hand raises to rub the sleep from her eyes, jaw lock in evident irritation. ] Stupid Wardens, how is anyone supposed to sleep in a cot so small... [ The realization comes slow, the metal walls of the ship close enough to blurred vision to make her think she's still in Weisshaupt waiting for old men to pull their collective sticks from their asses. ] Never thought I'd miss camping out in caves─Hello...
[ Ah, there it is, that little light bulb that flicks on and says "This isn't Weisshaupt, Toto" - or it would if Hawke had any any who or what Toto was. Regardless she inhales sharp and reaches for her staff, smooth wood a comfort as she uses it to stands herself up. ]
I see we've gone to the Grey Wardens school of decor. [ A bit boring she has to say, rather bland. No dirt, no drunkard puking his guts out in the corner, no wet dog smell. Frankly it is kind of disappointing.
Once her bearings are gather it takes Hawke all of a few moments to start snooping, trying to find something - anything - to tell her where exactly she's managed to find herself now. Eventually her combings finds her a device, odd little thing that she promptly starts playing with legs across upon the very bench she woke up on. A few hours of poking has her come to a few conclusions, one; this thing is weird, two; she can swear she has seen something like this before, and three; she can talk to people on it. At least she thinks she can.
A wild guess as her flick the feed on, though the camera is at a slight angle, all smiles and more than obvious bed hair. You'd almost have no idea that she is perhaps a little rattled by all of this with the way she looks. ]
Good morning, or is it afternoon? Honestly I have no bloody idea, I tried to fun the sun but it seems that I have misplaced that alongside of almost everything else. No matter, I'm sure it'll all turn up somehow.
I'm Hawke, by the way - best to get introductions out of the way early - and I have two very important questions to ask you... [ Trailing off the screws up her nose slightly before shaking her head. ] Is there a bar nearby and how can I get there?
Broadcast: Fleet wide
Action: MARSIVA, aww yeah.
When: Now, until shuffle.
[ Maker's balls it is cold.
Waking up in strange places isn't so unusual in Marian's Hawke's life, she's fairly to it by now, so she barely bats a sleepy eye when she rolls over and curls in on herself. Half mumbled words tumbling from her lips in a incoherently mess, fingers curling around whatever they can grasp in a desperate attempt to conserve heat. This continues for a good few moments until the woman manages to roll straight onto the cold metal floor. ]
─Aahh! [ There is no better way of waking someone up than a quick drop onto a cold floor - well... a bucket of water would have done as well, but thankfully there are no buckets to be seen.
It has her awake, alert as someone still gluggy with sleep can be, mope of black hair strewn about this way and that. Heart thundering in her chest a hand raises to rub the sleep from her eyes, jaw lock in evident irritation. ] Stupid Wardens, how is anyone supposed to sleep in a cot so small... [ The realization comes slow, the metal walls of the ship close enough to blurred vision to make her think she's still in Weisshaupt waiting for old men to pull their collective sticks from their asses. ] Never thought I'd miss camping out in caves─Hello...
[ Ah, there it is, that little light bulb that flicks on and says "This isn't Weisshaupt, Toto" - or it would if Hawke had any any who or what Toto was. Regardless she inhales sharp and reaches for her staff, smooth wood a comfort as she uses it to stands herself up. ]
I see we've gone to the Grey Wardens school of decor. [ A bit boring she has to say, rather bland. No dirt, no drunkard puking his guts out in the corner, no wet dog smell. Frankly it is kind of disappointing.
Once her bearings are gather it takes Hawke all of a few moments to start snooping, trying to find something - anything - to tell her where exactly she's managed to find herself now. Eventually her combings finds her a device, odd little thing that she promptly starts playing with legs across upon the very bench she woke up on. A few hours of poking has her come to a few conclusions, one; this thing is weird, two; she can swear she has seen something like this before, and three; she can talk to people on it. At least she thinks she can.
A wild guess as her flick the feed on, though the camera is at a slight angle, all smiles and more than obvious bed hair. You'd almost have no idea that she is perhaps a little rattled by all of this with the way she looks. ]
Good morning, or is it afternoon? Honestly I have no bloody idea, I tried to fun the sun but it seems that I have misplaced that alongside of almost everything else. No matter, I'm sure it'll all turn up somehow.
I'm Hawke, by the way - best to get introductions out of the way early - and I have two very important questions to ask you... [ Trailing off the screws up her nose slightly before shaking her head. ] Is there a bar nearby and how can I get there?
no subject
I shall be delighted to take it. Oh, do talk more about me.
no subject
I could speak of your golden mane, or the sparkling gems of your eyes. [ Thank you Varric for years of stories and embellishments. ] They are all I know of you, ser, aside from your clearly marvelous taste in company.
no subject
I do have excellent taste in companionship, or at least it seems it will be if you would do me the honor of taking a glass of wine with me. [He flexed his hands wide.] And feel free to share what a woman like you has to get her hands dirty, when she seems to have the wit and the wiles to do anything she likes.