Merrill (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
yourdistraction) wrote in ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png)
driftfleet2015-01-14 11:54 am
yourdistraction) wrote in driftfleet2015-01-14 11:54 am
one ; he's a transponster!
Who: Merrill & Fenris
Broadcast: {video} Fleet-Wide
Action: Anywhere on the Marsiva (they may split up we'll see).
When: January 14th
{VIDEO} ;
[ The video switches on to reveal— well okay it's an arm, covered in leather, chainmail and white fur, but only because the communicator's taking a moment to get pulled back, and only because there's more than one person trying to use it.
Or more than one elf, with pointed ears and both faces intricately covered in tattoos as the biggest clue. Merrill's markings are as dark as her short, braided hair and Fenris's are as light as his (there might even be a glow). Contrarily, perhaps, she looks much more cheerful in her greeting, but there is still a level of heightened stress to her tone. ]
Yes, hello! It seems we landed in the wrong time. World, actually! Now you promised, since the war's over. Can we speak to somebody in the Initiative? Where are our— Um—
[Merrill doesn't get to finish her sentence, as Fenris wrests control of the communicator from her. He looks decidedly less friendly, in fact, he looks just about ready to punch someone in the face. Hard.]
Our weapons. They are missing. [He jabs an annoyed thumb in Merrill's direction, whose irritated sigh can be heard off-camera.] I understand she likely disrupted the transporter. Just open up another one and send us back to Kirkwall. Now. I have no intention of staying on your blighted moon again. [A pause, a disdainful look around.] Or wherever this is...
[Actually, this looks distinctly non-Initiative. And it's definitely not United Earth, either, he remembers their holding pens, and this is not them. Where the heck ARE they? He doesn't have long to ponder or even let someone answer before there's another sound from Merrill off-camera; a gasp.]
There's something on you! Hold still.
What? What is- NO! Don't you touch me. [He may tolerate you existing in his life now, Merrill, but that doesn't mean you're allowed to touch him with your magey hands. He turns around a couple of times, trying to find...whatever it is on him, his hands tapping around his back until...oh he has a thing on his neck. WHY DOES HE HAVE A THING ON HIS NECK??
His fingers close on it, and he tries to yank it off. If you ever wondered what would happen if you tried to take your Augment off, wonder no more. Fenris gives a pained, frightened yelp, then curls into a horrible, shuddering ball on the floor, muttering horribly in Tevene. He's somewhere in the horrible recesses of his own broken mind right now, don't mind him.
Off-camera: ]
All right, I won't touch you.
Broadcast: {video} Fleet-Wide
Action: Anywhere on the Marsiva (they may split up we'll see).
When: January 14th
{VIDEO} ;
[ The video switches on to reveal— well okay it's an arm, covered in leather, chainmail and white fur, but only because the communicator's taking a moment to get pulled back, and only because there's more than one person trying to use it.
Or more than one elf, with pointed ears and both faces intricately covered in tattoos as the biggest clue. Merrill's markings are as dark as her short, braided hair and Fenris's are as light as his (there might even be a glow). Contrarily, perhaps, she looks much more cheerful in her greeting, but there is still a level of heightened stress to her tone. ]
Yes, hello! It seems we landed in the wrong time. World, actually! Now you promised, since the war's over. Can we speak to somebody in the Initiative? Where are our— Um—
[Merrill doesn't get to finish her sentence, as Fenris wrests control of the communicator from her. He looks decidedly less friendly, in fact, he looks just about ready to punch someone in the face. Hard.]
Our weapons. They are missing. [He jabs an annoyed thumb in Merrill's direction, whose irritated sigh can be heard off-camera.] I understand she likely disrupted the transporter. Just open up another one and send us back to Kirkwall. Now. I have no intention of staying on your blighted moon again. [A pause, a disdainful look around.] Or wherever this is...
[Actually, this looks distinctly non-Initiative. And it's definitely not United Earth, either, he remembers their holding pens, and this is not them. Where the heck ARE they? He doesn't have long to ponder or even let someone answer before there's another sound from Merrill off-camera; a gasp.]
There's something on you! Hold still.
What? What is- NO! Don't you touch me. [He may tolerate you existing in his life now, Merrill, but that doesn't mean you're allowed to touch him with your magey hands. He turns around a couple of times, trying to find...whatever it is on him, his hands tapping around his back until...oh he has a thing on his neck. WHY DOES HE HAVE A THING ON HIS NECK??
His fingers close on it, and he tries to yank it off. If you ever wondered what would happen if you tried to take your Augment off, wonder no more. Fenris gives a pained, frightened yelp, then curls into a horrible, shuddering ball on the floor, muttering horribly in Tevene. He's somewhere in the horrible recesses of his own broken mind right now, don't mind him.
Off-camera: ]
All right, I won't touch you.
no subject
[He really has missed you, you jackass.]
Atroma? I have...not heard of them. Merrill and I have been held captive by a group called the Initiative for some months, forced to fight in a war. It had been won, though. We were supposed to go home.
no subject
[He rubs at his temple.]
This isn't home. Obviously. This is... the world's longest, most boring play, except we're the actors and we can't spit on the audience. Someone told me it's like "TV"-- whatever that is.
no subject
...Oh.
We had television on Exsilium...that was the Initiative's...base, I suppose. It...was not pleasant. The description is apt.
[Then, because this is more important:] Are you somewhere safe? [Practicalities first, sentimentality after.]
no subject
[He's just gonna-- stop thinking about it.]
No need to worry about me, elf. I'm on the SS Huntress-- it's one of the smaller ships floating around the big one you're on. The crew's like one-third my age, but I'm managing.
Whenever they get you sorted, we should catch up. I've got a pretty good thing going in the waystation; I'll buy you a drink and some semi-edible food. I don't suppose you have some cards on you?
no subject
[That gets the hint of a smile.] Being surrounded by youngsters are making you feel your ages, Dwarf?
I don't, I'm afraid. [He did, but he's pretty sure Isabella swiped them.] But I would like that. It has been far too long, old friend.
[Maybe it's been long enough for Varric to forget Fenris still owes him money. An elf can dream.]
no subject
[Varric hasn't forgotten about the money he's owed, but it's been like two years. He figures he won't get paid back ever-- even if Fenris acquired money somehow (probably from Hawke).]
Oh, well. It was worth a shot.
no subject
Nope. That money is gone now. Might as well have been eaten by a dragon.]
I am sure we can procure a deck from somewhere.
no subject
I'll ask around and see what I can come up with.
no subject
I am sure if anyone can manage such a thing, it's you.
no subject
no subject
Is it worse than the swill they give us in the Hanged Man?
[Because that stuff is pretty dire.]
no subject
Hope you got a sweet tooth, elf.
no subject
...I am going to regret drinking it. [And yet, drink it he will. Coping mechanisms, yay.]
no subject
[What a couple of sad alcoholics they are.]
You are. But it's really not that bad once you're numb to the taste.
no subject
[It's heartbreaking, really.]
I will take what comfort I can from that. I suppose it is better than nothing.