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driftfleet2016-08-10 02:09 am
child_of_bhaal) wrote in driftfleet2016-08-10 02:09 am
Eleasis 13 1370 dr
Who: Syeira and YOU
Broadcast: N/A
Action: Red Fish, other ships, Iskaulit
When: Beginning 8/10 and ongoing
[Red Fish]
Hello Red Fish. Here she is. Again. Clean as a whistle, in her clothes that should be less than dust, all neat and tidy. Even her hair is brushed. But somehow she still looks like a wreck. Probably due to the all over flush and the sweating due to her raging fever. And also the fact that she feels as weak as a newborn kitten. She stumbles, leaning heavily against walls when she can't keep to her feet.
[On your ship, her first week back]
Somehow, she's there. Feverish, very likely still dressed for bed. Because that's where she ought to be. But no, she's on your ship. Wandering around, maybe looking for someone, or something. Talking to herself softly, deliriously. How did she fly a shuttle in this condition? Probably very poorly.
"Here...Here? Wrong place. Or the right place?"
[Iskaulit, first week]
She has a stick of charcoal in her hand and she's chosen some spot, a wall or floor, perhaps in the garden or the gym, or one of the bars or even a hallway, and she's furiously drawing. It's just lines and smudges in black on black. The more she tries to make it make sense, the less it seems to, and the more her obvious frustration grows.
"I saw...I saw but it won't come out..." There's black streaks across her face, her hands and on her shift. She's still a weak, feverish mess.
Broadcast: N/A
Action: Red Fish, other ships, Iskaulit
When: Beginning 8/10 and ongoing
[Red Fish]
Hello Red Fish. Here she is. Again. Clean as a whistle, in her clothes that should be less than dust, all neat and tidy. Even her hair is brushed. But somehow she still looks like a wreck. Probably due to the all over flush and the sweating due to her raging fever. And also the fact that she feels as weak as a newborn kitten. She stumbles, leaning heavily against walls when she can't keep to her feet.
[On your ship, her first week back]
Somehow, she's there. Feverish, very likely still dressed for bed. Because that's where she ought to be. But no, she's on your ship. Wandering around, maybe looking for someone, or something. Talking to herself softly, deliriously. How did she fly a shuttle in this condition? Probably very poorly.
"Here...Here? Wrong place. Or the right place?"
[Iskaulit, first week]
She has a stick of charcoal in her hand and she's chosen some spot, a wall or floor, perhaps in the garden or the gym, or one of the bars or even a hallway, and she's furiously drawing. It's just lines and smudges in black on black. The more she tries to make it make sense, the less it seems to, and the more her obvious frustration grows.
"I saw...I saw but it won't come out..." There's black streaks across her face, her hands and on her shift. She's still a weak, feverish mess.
no subject
"Maybe you will, and maybe you will not." He hums softly, coaxing.
(Rest, the song coaxes, Safe now)
"But driving yourself to exhaustion will help none, hm?"
no subject
Her eyes closed slowly; her weight giving over to his support. "Sorry to worry you."
no subject
.... Welp, now he has to find her someplace to sleep.
no subject
If he was going to give her the choice of places, she seems to have picked 'on Maglor', because she's already slipping away into sleep. But her hand curls into his tunic, tugging close to her chest, like she's not going to be letting go any time soon, sleeping or not.
no subject
"Then I am sorry, for you should never have to damn youself for me - I am already cursed."
He looks down at the hand and smiles wryly.
"Ah little fire-hair." He murmurs softly, remembering other children in his arms, long ago.
"Well I suppose I had nowhere else to be." He carries her over to a quieter corner, where he can sit and she can lay a little more comfortably, running fingers through her hair and humming to her, low and sweet.