Ser Gendry Waters (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
bullhorned) wrote in ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png)
driftfleet2016-08-01 04:53 pm
bullhorned) wrote in driftfleet2016-08-01 04:53 pm
Entry tags:
02. this is my life now
Who: Gendry
Broadcast: NEVER
Action: On the Iskaulit and the Golden
When: August
The Golden
He'd went to sleep in his nice comfortable bed on the planet, completely oblivious to the notion that the fleet would be leaving that very same night. It was simply one of those things for which he'd had no intention of worrying about it. He woke with a start later because his augment was designed for one thing, which was to tend to the ship's engines. So when the ship began to sound just a bit ragged, he instinctively rolled off the floor the Atroma had unceremoniously dumped him in.
So they were right. He muttered some curses, then pulled himself up to his feet and went to work. After an hour making careful calibrations and monitoring the sensor readings (thank gods he'd learned to read!), he was finally able to return things to what he thought was comfortable. He would afterwards reflect that he really had absolutely no idea what he'd been doing, but the important thing was that the ship hadn't blown up and that this was about the best anyone could hope for. Though as he looked at the contents of what he had to work with, an idea had begun to come to mind.
Some days later, his crew would find him having already removed many of the panels off the stove as he tried to find a way to increase the heat. This was only his preliminary efforts, but he was fully convinced that he could cobble up the components he would need to make a workable forge up here in space. He had the experience, the knowledge, and absolutely none of the permission required to make it a reality.
(tl;dr: find gendry tearing up the kitchen, working on the ship, or paying a little too close of attention to what the exercise equipment is made of.)
The Iskaulit
At some point, someone had the decency to tell Gendry that he wouldn't have to live the rest of his life confined to one tiny ship trying to take things apart in order to stay busy. Instead he was able to live his life confined to several ships, one of which was large enough to be its own sort of marketplace. So one shuttle ride later and he was there!
There was absolutely nothing that interested him. The purpose of the gym eluded him, he didn't want to meditate, he barely could read so books were right out, he wasn't feeling particularly devout, and he hadn't been long enough away from the planet to feel particularly sentimental about seeing plants being grown. So that only left the space bar. With the well practiced ease of a man who spent an awful lot of time on a medieval world, he ordered an ale. What he received wasn't quite as frothy or watery or dirty as what he was used to drinking, but it was certainly a beverage. Eventually a few drinks later and he finds himself sitting on a bench in the public art display, staring at the mural of an artificial sunset.
(tl;dr: gendry can be found at the bar, checking out the art exhibit, or otherwise just wandering the iskaulit taking in the sights for the first time..)
Broadcast: NEVER
Action: On the Iskaulit and the Golden
When: August
The Golden
He'd went to sleep in his nice comfortable bed on the planet, completely oblivious to the notion that the fleet would be leaving that very same night. It was simply one of those things for which he'd had no intention of worrying about it. He woke with a start later because his augment was designed for one thing, which was to tend to the ship's engines. So when the ship began to sound just a bit ragged, he instinctively rolled off the floor the Atroma had unceremoniously dumped him in.
So they were right. He muttered some curses, then pulled himself up to his feet and went to work. After an hour making careful calibrations and monitoring the sensor readings (thank gods he'd learned to read!), he was finally able to return things to what he thought was comfortable. He would afterwards reflect that he really had absolutely no idea what he'd been doing, but the important thing was that the ship hadn't blown up and that this was about the best anyone could hope for. Though as he looked at the contents of what he had to work with, an idea had begun to come to mind.
Some days later, his crew would find him having already removed many of the panels off the stove as he tried to find a way to increase the heat. This was only his preliminary efforts, but he was fully convinced that he could cobble up the components he would need to make a workable forge up here in space. He had the experience, the knowledge, and absolutely none of the permission required to make it a reality.
(tl;dr: find gendry tearing up the kitchen, working on the ship, or paying a little too close of attention to what the exercise equipment is made of.)
The Iskaulit
At some point, someone had the decency to tell Gendry that he wouldn't have to live the rest of his life confined to one tiny ship trying to take things apart in order to stay busy. Instead he was able to live his life confined to several ships, one of which was large enough to be its own sort of marketplace. So one shuttle ride later and he was there!
There was absolutely nothing that interested him. The purpose of the gym eluded him, he didn't want to meditate, he barely could read so books were right out, he wasn't feeling particularly devout, and he hadn't been long enough away from the planet to feel particularly sentimental about seeing plants being grown. So that only left the space bar. With the well practiced ease of a man who spent an awful lot of time on a medieval world, he ordered an ale. What he received wasn't quite as frothy or watery or dirty as what he was used to drinking, but it was certainly a beverage. Eventually a few drinks later and he finds himself sitting on a bench in the public art display, staring at the mural of an artificial sunset.
(tl;dr: gendry can be found at the bar, checking out the art exhibit, or otherwise just wandering the iskaulit taking in the sights for the first time..)
no subject
Clint had been sitting on a stool at the bar, facing toward the seats and tables. He hadn't heard this guy's order, of course. He read his lips -- but what were the other possibilities here? That he'd asked for 'a nail'? Or someone called Neil? Given the context, it was a fairly safe bet.
It was worth confirming, too, because the only people Clint knew who talked like that were Asguardians, people from medieval times, and the servers from Medieval Times.
no subject
"What's wrong with ale?"
no subject
"'s kinda knights-and-dragons, that's all."
no subject
An ale was set in front of him. He didn't typically share his knighthood because he didn't feel particularly proud of it (and he didn't like being called Ser nearly as much as he thought he would), but if it justified getting an ale then so be it.
no subject
Came the reply, because it somehow seemed to be the right thing to say. Sort of like replying with your name when someone else gives theirs. In case it had sounded like a correction (he never could tell exactly how his own tone came across), Clint gestured to himself with a slight movement of his hand.
no subject
"Good." He drank his ale and was disappointed that it tasted nothing like the ale he was used to. "Hm." His attention turned to the beer. "What's that?"
no subject
He set his own glass next to the knight's as if that answered the question. And as far as Clint was concerned it did, too, because the bar called this stuff Amber Starlight, which didn't give very many clues about its taste or origin. Just that it was sort of orange, and they served it in space.
no subject
"It's decent," he announced at last. "Better than this other stuff."
no subject
Clint might be a fair ways into his cups just now. He reaches for his own glass back and shrugs.
"Supposed t' have some orange zest in it, but I dunno where they'd get that from. It's probably the same kinda powdered orange we get. Or it could be they're just lying. I tried most of 'em. This one's good and the dark one that tastes like oatmeal and caramel, that's okay when they have it. I keep tellin' 'em they should do one with coffee."
no subject
"It don't need to taste good," he answered coolly. "S'long as it goes down and don't come back up."
no subject
"You had tequila?"
Something about this guy just suggested 'no' somehow.
"Yeah, don't try tequila."
no subject
no subject
"It tastes so bad, after you drink it you're supposed eat a lump of salt. Not mixed with anything, just salt by itself. I guess because after tequila a tongue-full of salt tastes pretty great. Anything would. Then you're supposed to bite a slice of lime."
Clint gave a cartoonish shiver.
"Not for me."
no subject
no subject
No they didn't - but at this point he could make up any old bull. Even if he was talking to someone who was from his place and time, he could claim extra-dimensional immunity.
"D'you have a king?"
He had no idea this might be a touchy subject. He was plumbing the depths of what-all he knew about knights.