driftfleet | Act 1

Entry tags:

Act 1 | text

Who: Monty Navarro
Broadcast: Fleetwide
Action: SS Heron
When: September 16th

[Monty isn't a complete stranger to being one place and then suddenly being another. This typically has some element of delusion or other magic involved, though. Suddenly finding himself aboard a random ship in the fleet is disconcerting. But Renart's given him a basic rundown of what's going on, and he's glanced through this latest communications network. There's far too much to take in. But there is one matter he's been wondering about.]

To All Souls Present,

My name is Lord Montague D'Ysquith Navarro, most recently of the Fortress Between. I should extend my apologies if this is a query that has been answered before, but is there, perhaps, a list of persons who once were held within the confines of this fleet who have since departed? And is it known where these disappeared persons might go?

Regards,
Navarro

ACTION - SS Heron

[Monty's not entirely sure how much he should go just wandering about a strange ship when he's just arrived, really. He probably ought to introduce himself to the captain, find out if there's some place for him to actually sleep, where the food Renart mentioned might be... But, well, a man does get distracted. Specifically, he's been distracted by the Med/Science Lab. Everything in it should, by rights, be absolutely foreign, but his hands seem to know what they're doing when he picks up devices, and he knows what the different medicines he finds are and what they do.

It's unnerving, disturbing, whatever had he done to be so deserving of such an augment? And how in god's name is this possible? He's really trying to take it in stride, but he's back to being a no one, stranded away from all the people he's known for more than a year, except Renart, whom he hasn't even found, yet.

Anyone stepping into the medical lab will find a young gentleman dressed to the nines in a suit from a bygone era, moving around and trying desperately to keep himself distracted from... everything by mucking about with the equipment.]

Threaded | Top-Level Comments Only

Dearest Navarro, More worried about who's left than who's here? My deepest amusement for how you write texts, Kitty Pryde

[At least people making fun of his writing isn't new. Monty huffs only a bit to himself.]

Dear Ms. Pryde,

I've been reliably informed there are ship manifests that I might review for the present roster of persons present. I should like to know if anyone else I might know was present. I was a record-keeper previously. One should endeavor to be complete in their efforts, should they not?

Kindest sympathies for hailing from a world where such writing would be considered strange,
Navarro

Edited 2016-09-17 23:11 (UTC)

[Lucky for him she smells him before she sees him and, being entirely used to his scent, she chooses to dash back into her room to switch back to her human body and throw some clothes on instead of hunting him down as a fox and making the switch in public, sans-clothing.

So once she's made herself decent she's dashing out of her room to the lab, bursting in and pretty much tackling him in a hug.]

Monty!

Oof! [As the tackling comes from behind, Monty's half-thrown up against a wall.] Who-?

[But Renart's voice is unmistakable, and he drops the scanning device he'd had in his hand to better pull at her grip so that he can turn around to face her. It's only been a few days for him, but for her... It's only a few seconds before he's pulling her into a kiss - short and passionate.]

It would seem our captors have a sense of humor, if nothing else.

[To 'randomly' assign him here.]

While Ordis always does appreciate a good bemusement of words, he would like to say that unfortunately many a time such language seems to be inaccessible to those who have found themselves here. It becomes a worrisome thing, but Ordis finds it more tedious than anything else.

Perhaps, Lord Navarro, it would be worth simplifying your request for the sake of those poor souls. Though Ordis must say that he finds your use of grammar and the lexicon of words used to be very cheeky indeed!

...also he is not sure that such a thing exists, to be more on point.

[It has been far too long since they've made out, in her opinion, so she's a bit reluctant to stop kissing. She'll keep leaning against him, her tail wagging furiously.]

Are you really assigned here? I'd have no problem calling them benevolent if you are.

I find myself somewhat confused, sir. Are you speaking on behalf of Mr. Ordis for some reason?

[Who is Ordis and why does he merit a secretary, if so?]

I thought my request for information quite straightforward. I can assure you, there was no intent to be 'cheeky.'

Of course Ordis speaks on behalf of Ordis, though he will admit that the designation of 'mister' is not necessarily one that he is accustomed to. You do speak on behalf of yourself, do you not Lord Navarro? Ordis assures you that Ordis does the same.

[Really, he's always found it such a strange thing that people don't understand.]

Oh, but as Ordis has said. Typed. Said. Unfortunately the accessibility of higher language is something that not all possess. And shame shame, such poetry and usage is undoubtedly cheeky, though admittedly not along the same salacious lines as a good equation. Still, Ordis commends you. Excellent writing.

I seem to have simply appeared here. Does that constitute being 'assigned'?

[Monty certainly isn't going to push her away. She's the only familiar face he's seen in days. For good measure, he drops his head down for another kiss, this one a bit less frantic, but no less needy.

Wait. People are watching this. The gentleman's head jerks up suddenly.]

Um... is there anywhere private on the ship?

[She's probably going to need to lie to him if she ever wants him to relax.]

[He's... speaking in the third person like Tachibana. Well. All right, then.]

One does typically employ pronouns when speaking of oneself, sir. Undoubtedly your means of reference is, far and away, the least ambiguous on its face, but it leaves one wondering if there might not be another gentleman you're referring to. If I were to say:

'Lord Navarro is most appreciative of your compliments upon his writing.'

I should sound as though I were talking about another person, perhaps my employer.

Might I inquire whence you hail from, Mr. Ordis, that you should find an equation 'salacious,' though? There is beauty and symmetry in mathematics, but I have yet to divine some prurient nature inherent in equations.

Edited 2016-09-17 23:40 (UTC)

[He never liked Zexion's illusions... there's no way he'd react well to being watched 24/7 and no way to stop it. So she has no problem lying, and if someone tells him otherwise she'll entertain mindcontrolling him. It'd be for the best, right?]

Oh, the usual places. Bathrooms, bedrooms.... [She waves a hand.] Don't worry about it. If you showed up here with confetti then this is your new home.

Ordis does see where confusion could arise, but alas it is not in his nature or programming to do so. Ordis is Ordis, Ordis speaks for Ordis. It has been such for many a year.

However, your questions is a peculiar one. It is not often that others are interested in the backgrounds of their fellow fleet members. How novel. Ordis may simply answer that he is merely a lover of good math, and he derives many simple pleasures from its eloquence.

Such is, of course, not the common sentiment of all from Ordis' home, he assures you. It is a bit sad, really.

[Erik's movements don't change much now that they're drifting again, except to leave the ship less than before. He still moves around, from time to time. His room to the kitchen or bathroom, mostly.

When he passes by the lab, he's already past it before he realises there's someone unfamiliar in there. He steps back to the doorway, peering at the man picking up and turning everything over. The suit is a style that was old fashioned even when he was young, but it's still familiar as being from the twentieth century. After a moment, he speaks up.]

Are you looking for something?

[ Charles sigh. He wishes people would ask first before fiddling with the lab. Even though he lacks the augment for it, Charles maintains the lab and keeps sensitive equipment locked away.

So he clears his throat pointedly. ]

[Well, that's a relief. Monty relaxes marginally.]

Is that what that was? Confetti. I tried to clean it up after I arrived. Do they enjoy making new arrivals make a mess in their new homes? It hardly seems like something the rest of the crew would enjoy.

Dear Navarro III of the clan Navarro,

You make a good point but names aren't the same as really knowing someone. You should at least find out our favorite colors before moving on to ghosts of the past.

Many thanks for your sympathies. I plan to keep them in my hope chest for further review.

Proudly yours,
Kitty Pryde

Programming? You're a robotic person, then, sir? Or a golem, perhaps?

[Clay, Sigma, and the Transformers are the extent of his experience here.]

I beg your pardon, though, people aren't interested? That seems a rather basic thing to ascertain with the men and women we're meant to be sharing this fleet with. I was a stockbroker back in my own world, so I can well appreciate the eloquence of numbers and calculations. I don't believe I've met anyone with your particular vivacity regarding them. It's quite charming, really.

Whether or not it's a sentiment held among your people or not. Are you a unique being where you hail from, then?

Dear Ms. Pryde of the Prowd Pride,

My ghosts are held close and dear to me for being so near. But you speak wisdom, my Lady. Might I inquire as to your favorite color and, perhaps, your favorite flower? I should guess a rose were I to be glib, of course. Beauty with much to say and sharp wit with which to prick.

Humbly Yours,
Navarro

[There's nothing particularly accusatory about the tone, but Monty spins with far more grace than he probably should and stands there staring at the other man for half a moment. He bites down on the urge to insist that he's only been looking, not taking. That would sound horribly suspicious.]

Please, do forgive me, sir.

[He places a hand over his heart and bows.]

I'm Navarro, sir. Montague Navarro. I've only just arrived. I-I tried to clean up the little scraps of paper that came with me, sir. I was looking for the captain, but I... have a Lab Support Augment. I just... wanted to see what was here. My sincere apologies for not being more direct in locating the commanding officer. Are you the captain?

[She switches mediums, looking amused on the screen. She's twenty but she reads a older. You'll have that when you grow up fast in a hard world and spend all your time with people many years older.]

Blue. I don't have a favorite flower, but I'll take yours under recommendation.

[She shrugs.]

Someone will clean it up. Not me, I handle the vermin.

[ Monty startles, but manages not to drop the scanner in his hands as he spins on his heel to face the disapproving tone.

Which appears to be attached to a man in a hovering chair. The young gentleman can only stare and blink in confusion for a second or two. And then he realizes how incredibly rude that is and redirects his gaze from the contraption up to the other man's face. ]

I'm so sorry, sir. I was... [ He looks at the scanner in his hand and sets it aside on the bed he's standing nearby. That's probably not where that goes... ] I've just arrived. I wasn't entirely sure where I ought to be, but I have an augment for this room, I believe. I think I'm meant to be here? [ His posture is impeccable, but Monty does shrink a bit under the steady gaze. Is this the captain? ] Are you in need of medical assistance?

[ He softens slightly at that. ]

No. I manage the labs in my spare time since my academic work has to do a lot with biology and chemistry. I'm a geneticist.

[It takes Monty a moment to sort out how to change the mode on this. He's not used to actually seeing people talking on the network save for the odd occasion he'd been looking over Renart's shoulder while she was on her mobile phone. He's in his early 20s, as well, but dressed like a man from his time, that is to say: ancient. It's a very nice, tailored suit, though.

And when he switches it over, he'll offer Kitty a broad smile before believing up a blue rose that he twirls between his fingers while holding up on screen. It's nice to know he's still retained something of that ability from Between. Although the requirements for using it... Well, Renart, is here.]

For when we meet, then, Ms. Kitty Pryde. Unless you find another bloom you favor more, before then. Anything would, I imagine, complement you.

Vermin?

[There are vermin in space? What?]

Do they not have to... breathe?

[Space doesn't have air, right?]

Threaded | Top-Level Comments Only

Page 1 of 12

Act 1 | text

text

text

Action

no subject

;text

no subject

;text

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

action

[ action ]

no subject

text

no subject

text

no subject

video

no subject

no subject

no subject

video

no subject