driftfleet | (no subject)

Who: Caterina Sforza
Broadcast: fleetwide and completely unintentional
Action: Marsiva
When: the 18th

[Hello, Drift Fleet! Don’t you love these unintentional recordings of new arrivals? No? Well, at least this one is nice to look at. Straight out of an Italian Renaissance painting, in fact.

Caterina awakens on the bunk wearing the same black and yellow gown that Cesare had had her dressed in. Her “tiger stripes,” he had said, damn him.

But she realized, as she looked about, that that was almost all that was the same. She was no longer chained or shackled. She was not caged. And this was neither the Vatican nor the Castel Sant’Angelo. Whatever else may be true of this place, that held promise. It was enough to improve her humor considerably.

As she starts to rise, she finally notices the communicator beside her. The curiosity plain on her face, she picks it up and examines it, turning it over in her hands.]

And what is this, I wonder?

[Action]

[Later, Caterina finds her way to the cafeteria. She's not expecting anything up to her normal standards, but after a siege and eating broth of boiled rat for a few weeks, she'll take what she can get. What she gets, however, is a great deal of confusion. Instead of anything remotely resembling a normal kitchen, she is greeted by a series of machines, all flashing lights and strange noises.

For a moment, she just stares. This is beyond ridiculous. It really is. But that doesn't mean that she doesn't have to deal with it, so, reluctantly, she steps forward to examine one of the food processors.]

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

[Oh, good; he was worried she'd scream.]

Oh, no; I turned off the pain sensors when it got damaged. [He says it with a little shrug.] I can still sense temperature and texture with it, though.

[She should be more frightened, perhaps. She was in utterly uncharted territories here. But nothing about Luke made him seem a threat- quite the contrary. He had sort of a boyish innocence about him that lessened her tension.]

It is only your hand, then, that is artificial? [Nosy, yes, perhaps. But while she may not be frightened, she is a bit startled. He'll have to forgive the temporary lapse in manners.]

[That is, in a way, intentional. Luke doesn't put on a false face to interact with others, but he genuinely doesn't want anyone to be afraid of him. Well, unless you're Jabba, but that guy was a dick.]

Only my hand. I lost the original in an accident. This one... needs some repairs.

Extraordinary. [Useful. Again, her mind is buzzing with implications and possibilities.] I do hope the repairs don't cause you difficulties.

[Luke has always been appreciative of curiosity. This, more than anything, makes up his mind for him. He likes her, he decides.] Oh, no. The hardest part will be finding more synthskin to cover the hole, but I can always wear a glove until then. [He taps the hole in the back of his hand, charred around the edges as though burnt some time ago.]

But enough about me! I'm sorry, I never got your name.

That is as much my fault as yours; I have assailed you with questions without offering even so much as my name. How shameful of me. [But her tone indicates banter more than serious concern.]

I am Caterina Sfroza.