Ser Gendry Waters (
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
"Hold on, I'll get you another," and he leans slightly on the elbow resting on the counter. Spying an opening, he tugs a greenish bottle from the top shelf and into his hand, adding careless to sloppy and inappropriate.
"I don't know what this is but it taste like a--" He pause to grab a clean glass (again careless) and fills it with a light green ...beverage. "It taste like one of those drinks they tell you to chase with bacta. But don't worry," he grins for some reassurance, "I'm drinking and I'm fine."
no subject
"Ah yes. Fine." For some definition of fine. But a glass of something or other had been offered to him and he wasn't going to be rude(r) and not drink it. So he did drink it. And it was rather awful. Fortunately he was far too much of a man to ever show that, so he only nodded with that sort of forced smile people tend to get when they're not willing to admit an inconvenient truth. "Not bad."
no subject
Of course, then he sees the forced smile and the hypothetical becomes reality.
"You have a bad face," said with a completely straight face. He means a bad poker face but what is the space wizard equivalent for that. He takes the glass from Gendry and dumps it as if it's the only solution to a bad face. Anakin takes a good long look at the selection on the shelves again and rubs his chin.
"Alright, what would you like instead?"
no subject
"I still have this." The drink, still tainted by rubber ball, was sitting with a fourth of it still in the glass in front of him. He was even prepared to drink it, should it have the decency to not simply fly away as the other one had. "It's fine. It's all... fine."
no subject
Anakin promptly makes a grab for Gendry's tainted drink with every intention of making that nasty stuff follow the greenish liquid down the drain. He's pretty sure they're recycled anyway; a ship this size has no business not having an exceptionally efficient recycling process. It's space logic!
no subject
"Well, I wasn't that thirsty anyway." Or so he claimed. It wasn't true at all.
no subject
The liquid in question is orange this time, and it bubbles, fizzes and crackles just enough to be noticeable. It should taste sweet, overcoming whatever alcohol is actually in the drink.
no subject
"Do you always tend the bar from the wrong side of the counter?"
no subject
"Wrong side of the counter?" He makes a point of patting the counter affectionately, like a well loved swoop bike. "No, this is just self-service."
no subject
Consequences which involved indulging in the orange drink which was, he admitted, not so bad at all. He could finish this.
no subject
All of it. Because he can, you know, the Force.