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driftfleet2016-01-26 01:48 am
greyjane) wrote in driftfleet2016-01-26 01:48 am
Entry tags:
video | action
Who: Shai+open!
Broadcast: everyone
Action: Marsiva, if the new arrivals are so inclined.
When: Jan 26/16
[Not her first rodeo - being uprooted and tossed into the howling seas is sort of a thing at this point - so Shai looks cheery by all accounts. Have a wave, Fleet. When she speaks, it's with a strong accent that wars between being Australian and South African, with no discernible median point between the two, because #space shenanigans.]
So am I to brush up on my pirate brogue, or is this a respectable sort of kidnapping fleet?
[It's just amicable enough to hide the anger. She's rather good at it.]
At any rate, hello. Name's Shai Ebbisaryn, late of the Lattice and more recently of a quaint little place called Eudio. Give a gal a chime if you recognize either.
And, ah-- any word on whether or not we can get the Augments out without doing anything permanent? [A flash of a smile.] Asking for a friend.
[Obviously not, but it's said lightly.]
A; or, ❝bro, do you even lift?❞
[She can be found in the gym doing all manner of katas - obviously this is a lady who Knows Her Shit inasfar as sparring goes - and she'll be happy to invite you to participate if you look at all sturdy. Otherwise she'll strike up conversation for any number of reasons. Can you hand her that towel over there? What's your best bench press, sweetheart? Attractive, of-age (ie: over 18 at the very least and preferably somewhere north of 21) individuals of either gender might get a curious once-over and something like, 'Well aren't you a sight, darling' to the tune of playful flirts everywhere.]
B; or, ❝they call me mister farenheit❞
[She's definitely standing in front of that charming, large bay window idly letting a spark of electricity trail between her fingers. It's a bit like someone walking a coin across their knuckles, save that the electricity is more like a living little glob of plasma that drips and sparks with energy. It's a nervous tick, not that the rest of her body language gives her away. If anyone enters the room, that little plasma-looking glob will disappear in a hail of sparks (she's not trying to hide it, just being polite) and she'll give the newcomer a cheery smile.]
Don't know about you, mate, but I'm about ready to rip these bloody speakers clear off the walls.
Broadcast: everyone
Action: Marsiva, if the new arrivals are so inclined.
When: Jan 26/16
[Not her first rodeo - being uprooted and tossed into the howling seas is sort of a thing at this point - so Shai looks cheery by all accounts. Have a wave, Fleet. When she speaks, it's with a strong accent that wars between being Australian and South African, with no discernible median point between the two, because #space shenanigans.]
So am I to brush up on my pirate brogue, or is this a respectable sort of kidnapping fleet?
[It's just amicable enough to hide the anger. She's rather good at it.]
At any rate, hello. Name's Shai Ebbisaryn, late of the Lattice and more recently of a quaint little place called Eudio. Give a gal a chime if you recognize either.
And, ah-- any word on whether or not we can get the Augments out without doing anything permanent? [A flash of a smile.] Asking for a friend.
[Obviously not, but it's said lightly.]
A; or, ❝bro, do you even lift?❞
[She can be found in the gym doing all manner of katas - obviously this is a lady who Knows Her Shit inasfar as sparring goes - and she'll be happy to invite you to participate if you look at all sturdy. Otherwise she'll strike up conversation for any number of reasons. Can you hand her that towel over there? What's your best bench press, sweetheart? Attractive, of-age (ie: over 18 at the very least and preferably somewhere north of 21) individuals of either gender might get a curious once-over and something like, 'Well aren't you a sight, darling' to the tune of playful flirts everywhere.]
B; or, ❝they call me mister farenheit❞
[She's definitely standing in front of that charming, large bay window idly letting a spark of electricity trail between her fingers. It's a bit like someone walking a coin across their knuckles, save that the electricity is more like a living little glob of plasma that drips and sparks with energy. It's a nervous tick, not that the rest of her body language gives her away. If anyone enters the room, that little plasma-looking glob will disappear in a hail of sparks (she's not trying to hide it, just being polite) and she'll give the newcomer a cheery smile.]
Don't know about you, mate, but I'm about ready to rip these bloody speakers clear off the walls.
a;
Okay, no, it's nowhere near as freaky. God, he hates that thing.
At least the gym's closed off, no windows like the viewing bay. But that doesn't mean it doesn't have a view. He walks clear past Shai only to stop, and turn, and look at her like maybe he saw something else the first time. Then he looks around like maybe it's the gym that was wrong, and she's the right part. But no, still a gym, and no one else around by her.
Hey, reconnaissance includes talking to people. That's totally his motivation here. And since he's not a complete idiot, he makes his approach obvious, on an angle where she can see him, and he doesn't get too close before he addresses her. ]
What is that, karate?
[ He may be able to fight like an ex-marine, but all his practical knowledge of martial arts come as hand-me downs from his dad with no named style to them. Whatever she's doing might as well be from a Bruce Lee movie for all the difference Dean can tell. ]
no subject
Her hair's sticking to the back of her neck and her shirt to an interesting variety of places across her torso, she scrubs her face with a towel that until then had been hanging around her neck. She's looking forward to the after-the-fact shower.]
Assuming that's a martial art I've never heard of-- [she's heading to a nearby bench as she talks, her rather obvious goal is the waterbottle perched half-full upon it.] -- it's called Shrei Gana. Little something from back home.
[She takes a few carefully measured sips from the water bottle, sets it back down and now sufficiently hydrated and with her hands carefully wiped on the towel, she holds one out for him.]
Name's Shai, sweetheart. You a fellow jailbird?
no subject
Alright, so Dean's just met the girl, but in about two minutes of watching her and a handful of words, he already knows she's hot, smart, brave, and she could probably kick his ass. He likes her already.
He follows her a few careful steps behind as she goes for the water on the bench, taking a few extra to get in to a more conversational range now that she knows he's there and is out of attack mode. Shirei Gana he mouths after she says it and nods, committing it to memory because he has no freaking clue what that is, never heard of it before. But he'll remember.
He takes her hand without hesitation when she offers it, shaking firm and meeting her eyes. ]
Shai, huh? Good to meet you. I'm Dean. But you can call me sweetheart.
[ He smiles. It's a charming kind of smile, for sure. Really brings out the green in his hazel eyes as he looks around the room again, like he's looking for the cameras. ]
Reality TV stars, they're calling us. But I get what you're saying. This place's got all the joys of prison but the orange jumpsuits and the cigarettes.
[ He looks back at her. ]
So how long've you been on the SS Minnow, Shai?
no subject
She would, personally, rather dig latrines. But it doesn't mean she can't play the game. Her handshake is equally firm as a matter of course, but she isn't so theatrical as to let her touch linger. He does get a playful, knowing little quirk of one eyebrow, though, as she retreats into her own space.]
Oh, I'm new enough. Few days. Word is, we're here for a few days before we get our ship assignments, then it's off to another tin can. A somewhat smaller one, to my understanding.
no subject
[ She may be good-looking and willing to speak Dean's language, but that kind of talk gets his smile dropping down to nothing quick. It's bad enough being on a space ship. It's big enough, stable enough he can pretend it's one big building rooted firmly in the ground, nothing to it. ...But getting off the thing, and getting carted onto another smaller ship? Dean hasn't been on a whole lot of boats in his life but he's got a working knowledge of these things. The smaller the ship, the bigger the waves. ]
I don't like it.
[ And not just because of the airsickness thing, either. He crosses his arms, dangerously close to pouting. Or, er, brooding. Yeah, brooding, sure. That sounds better. ]
Feels too much like they're herding us, like cattle running to the slaughter. What's wrong with staying here? It's not exactly the Ritz-Carlton, I'll give you. It's missing the little mints on the pillows I love. But why put us up, feed us, throw a mixer and then send us off cold? I thought these Big Brother shows were all about rubbing people up against one another, not splitting them up. What's the angle?
no subject
Don't think they care if you like it or not, mate. Else they'd have sent an invitation.
[She lets the towel slide through her left hand and then snaps it very lightly in the air with her right.]
Near's I can tell, their angle is 'entertainment'. Maybe that's all part of it. Right down to driving us to cook up theories on why.
[It's not quite a warning, per se. Who's she to censor a stranger? But it could be playing right into what they want, and she's-- resistant, shall we say, to the idea.]
Listen. Dean, you said? You any sort of fighter? Good way to blow off steam.
no subject
But Dean doesn't need to scare somebody he just met when he barely knows what's going on himself. He'll keep looking into it. No point in raising alarms if it turns out to be nothing. Especially when Shai seems like the "punch first, ask questions later" type. That's a kind of bomb he's not looking to set off. At least not while he's the one liable to get punched. ]
[ Speaking of, when she offers sparring, Dean laughs about it, easy, arms dropping again to something more comfortable. ] Oh, I fight alright, when I have to. But that is not how I blow off steam. Not even close.
[ No offence intended, of course. She's hot and could kick his ass, and he does not want to piss her off, either by insulting how she spends her free time or by offering his, uh, less than upstanding alternatives. So he rushes to explain with a casual shrug to the words. ]
My job requires it. But I don't do the, uh... [ He lifts his hands, imitating the way she'd been standing. ] Zen and harmony kind of moves, like you. [ He drops the pose and relaxes again. ] It's not relaxing for me. Not like... other things. It's work.
no subject
So how do you blow off steam?
[The 'zen and harmony' moves only work so well, after all. Her problem has always been that she loves a decent fight. There's a reason she's cultivated a sense of physical prowess when in reality she could end a fair amount of squabbles that come her way without lifting a finger. But it's hardly the only way to have a good time, and she's not one to begrudge anyone a distinct lack of desire to take their work home with them. Takes all sorts.]
And I've a personal question, if I may. Are you a soldier?
no subject
[ He flirts back with a smile edging his lips because, yeah, you better believe Dean Winchester is implying something about ninety percent of the time. And since she doesn't seem to be going anywhere, he helps himself to a seat on the opposite end of the bench from her, turned in, legs spread wide and arms rested across his thighs, totally open and unguarded, meeting her eyes with nothing but honesty. ]
I'm a cop. [ He lies with the same kind of steady look, practiced daily for too many years. ] FBI. I'd flash the badge but seems like I left it on my home planet, along with everything else that could've been useful.
[ After half a second, he's turning that right around, because the last thing he ever really wants is to be talking about himself. ]
What about you? Yoga instructor?
[ He says it with a bright, cheeky kind of smile. The scars on her face would say otherwise, to start. But fighting to blow off steam? That some deep-seated anxiety. And fighting as part of the job doesn't mean soldier, but that's what she took from it, and called it personal. Seems pretty clear to him that she's military, or used to be. ]
no subject
'Cop' is pretty universal language, but an 'FBI' badge would be lost on me, I'm afraid. Though I'm sure it's, ah-- [her look turns purposeful and her attention flickers briefly downward.] very impressive.
[Two can play that flirting game, after all. There's something to be said for a bit of fun.]
Adding to the things I'm ignorant of - whatever 'yoga' is. [Oh, she can infer. More martial arts, perhaps, but--] I'm a peacekeeper. Been one half my life. Travel to exotic locales, stop cackling supervillains with sundry superpowers-- you know, the works.
[Superpowers are exactly common as mud where she's from, but she's learned since being in these melting pot nexuses that it isn't always so. Better to ease into the whole thing. Last thing she wants is a repeat of sending some poor sod into a panic attack over what she can (and has) done.]
no subject
Doesn't know the FBI either, just like he figured. Between that, the karate and the yoga thing, she's an alien, alright. Or something close to it. He's trying not to make assumptions here but, come on. He's in space. If he doesn't meet a hot alien chick on this trip, he'll be surprised. ]
Supervillans? [ His eyebrows lift and he looks surprised. She's probably talking about people not all that different from the ghosts and demons he's tangled with, but you don't usually hear it put like that. He nods slow, looking impressed. ] Wow.
So that'd make you a superhero where you're from, huh? Gotta admit, you're different from how I pictured. You know, Lynda Carter. The whole spandex bathing suit, tiara, and whip get up...
no subject
No. Just a soldier. Though it depends on your classification. If 'powers' make the 'super', then yes. But, ah-- no spandex, leastwise as far as uniforms are concerned. [She may not know who Lynda Carter is, but at least she's trope savvy.] Or tiaras. Whips on the other hand, those are negotiable.
[She tilts her head to one side. So far he hasn't seemed spooked, but discretion, as they say. She doesn't believe in hiding her powers, but she's starting to dislike the common thread of this trend where she's feeling she has to tell people straight-off, or later risk their feeling lied to. Things are so much simpler with the Janes. She's never met a person who didn't already know her and what she can do. It's a strange dichotomy, and it's wreaked havoc on her sense of self. It's not like she hasn't used her powers for terrible things (electricity is an effective method of torture that leaves nearly no external marks, it's almost laughably easy to disrupt the sinoatrial node, the impulses in the brain) but she's always been careful to sanitize it when she mentions it to strangers. It's a hard thing, to feel like she should need or be looking for approval. She's damn-near thirty, whatever insecurities she's buried should bloody well know better by now.]
I'm an electrokinetic, by the by. Tell me now if you aren't a fan.
no subject
Hey, I don't blame you. I like whips better than tiaras myself.
[ The other thing... That gets his eyebrows to raise. He was just joking about the superhero thing, figured she was just like every other hunter he'd met. But she's seriously a superhero? With electric powers? Dean swallows. It reminds him of Raphael's wings and all the terrifying fury of an archangel. That and that time electricity fried his heart, and he nearly died. He's not a fan, not really. He likes her, though, so far. So he scrunches up his lips, shrugs and nods like it doesn't bother him. ]
Electric powers... You're the first I met. And so far, you seem alright by me.
[ It's not a lie, after all. And he can't resist the joke that comes right to mind. ]
Bet that makes for an interesting time in the bedroom.