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child_of_bhaal) wrote in ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png)
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
[It's not outright disagreement. Or wanting rectification. It just doesn't make sense.
She focuses more on the other woman's face, making herself pay attention to details. It's not often she sees prior shorter than herself, and instantly wonders if she's an elf. But that's not possible. All the elves from other worlds are tall.]
You're....Laura? Yes?
[That's about all she has.]
no subject
Yes.
no subject
[She's drifting, fever sapping her focus. Her weight leans heavily into Laura's hand; it's mostly what's keeping her up, along side the wall.]
...should change that.
no subject
Okay.
[Was all she said in agreement. But at the same time she was stepping closer, propping the woman up, clearly having no issues with supporting her weight.]
But you need to go lie down now.
no subject
Okay...
[It's hard to argue, when all she wants is to lay down and sleep for a century. But she tries at least to help get herself around.]
no subject
Were you ill when you woke up?