LAURALAE. (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
fuga) wrote in ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png)
driftfleet2016-03-11 08:18 pm
fuga) wrote in driftfleet2016-03-11 08:18 pm
Entry tags:
( 001 )
Who: Lauralae
Broadcast: Video
Action: On board the HS Marsiva
When: 10th until Shuffle!
VIDEO;
[ The feed opens on what appears to be nothing more than a nest of darkness, shifting only when the figure that owns it shifts. It turns out to be dark, matted hair, sticking to pale skin and only separating through small slits as gloved fingers move and press the stands away - both sweat and blood bead against her face and she sits up, breathing out hard and pushing herself away from the bed with a quick, jerking motion, as if afraid of her own shadow. Her fingers shake and her skin pale and marred, streaks of blood decorating her like an artist's paintbrush against a scarred canvas.
It takes her a little while, but she finally pushes herself up. There is silence for a moment, only broken by the sound of her heavy breathing, until her hands reach out and pick up the device. The feed itself shakes with her fingertips, almost more bone than flesh, until she speaks, voice low and hoarse, exhausted. ]
Where am I.
[ Anyone currently on board the Marsiva will find her on the same bed she had woken up on, surrounded by what seems to be a circle of red with her legs tucked under her - what, exactly, she had been doing was a matter worth debating, but she seemed fit to faint under the weight of nothing sooner than she would be fit to explain anything. ]
Broadcast: Video
Action: On board the HS Marsiva
When: 10th until Shuffle!
VIDEO;
[ The feed opens on what appears to be nothing more than a nest of darkness, shifting only when the figure that owns it shifts. It turns out to be dark, matted hair, sticking to pale skin and only separating through small slits as gloved fingers move and press the stands away - both sweat and blood bead against her face and she sits up, breathing out hard and pushing herself away from the bed with a quick, jerking motion, as if afraid of her own shadow. Her fingers shake and her skin pale and marred, streaks of blood decorating her like an artist's paintbrush against a scarred canvas.
It takes her a little while, but she finally pushes herself up. There is silence for a moment, only broken by the sound of her heavy breathing, until her hands reach out and pick up the device. The feed itself shakes with her fingertips, almost more bone than flesh, until she speaks, voice low and hoarse, exhausted. ]
Where am I.
[ Anyone currently on board the Marsiva will find her on the same bed she had woken up on, surrounded by what seems to be a circle of red with her legs tucked under her - what, exactly, she had been doing was a matter worth debating, but she seemed fit to faint under the weight of nothing sooner than she would be fit to explain anything. ]
no subject
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[ Spoiler: she doesn't. Instead, she purses her lips. ]
When will I be sent?
no subject
no subject
no subject
no subject
no subject