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driftfleet2015-02-20 05:59 pm
lord_wizard) wrote in driftfleet2015-02-20 05:59 pm
Entry tags:
first labyrinth
Who: Felix Harrowgate
Broadcast: Fleet-wide
Action: Marsiva
When: 2/20, evening
[The fact that Felix remembers the past four years when he wakes up is the first indication he has that something has gone wrong. Normally the lack of memory loss would be a good thing, but he'd expected, given everything he'd learned, that life would resume as it had been the moment he'd left his own world. Of course, things had been a bit irregular near the end, and he'd had a strange hope that maybe he wouldn't forget.
The network station first records him sitting up in his cot, a man dressed in a rich burgundy coat reminiscent of eighteenth century nobility, his slightly curly red hair tied back with a ribbon. Fingers clad in gold and garnet rings brush first against his forehead, then at his chest where the necklace Ashura had given him still lay, then patting against his pocket where the Sibylline decidedly still wasn't.
As he takes in the open space and the void outside the sweeping windows, the expression on his face shifts smoothly from confusion, to shock, to a vivid anger. He sits up from his bed so quickly that it upends with a clatter]
No! No! [his shout is shrill, edging on hysterical, and much higher than might be expected out of him at first glance. He turns in place, as if looking for something or someone to direct this at instead of thin air, then settles at shouting at nothing]
Damn you, Paradisa! Is is really going to be one last trick? Haven't I served my time? Haven't I done enough?
[His eyes, vivid yellow and pale blue, find his communicator sitting on cot next to his, and he stalks over to pick it up a rather obvious air of contempt. His brows knit together in slight puzzlement amidst the storming anger]
What is this? [The fact that he actually knows the answer to that raises more questions] Is the journal not good enough for you any longer?
Broadcast: Fleet-wide
Action: Marsiva
When: 2/20, evening
[The fact that Felix remembers the past four years when he wakes up is the first indication he has that something has gone wrong. Normally the lack of memory loss would be a good thing, but he'd expected, given everything he'd learned, that life would resume as it had been the moment he'd left his own world. Of course, things had been a bit irregular near the end, and he'd had a strange hope that maybe he wouldn't forget.
The network station first records him sitting up in his cot, a man dressed in a rich burgundy coat reminiscent of eighteenth century nobility, his slightly curly red hair tied back with a ribbon. Fingers clad in gold and garnet rings brush first against his forehead, then at his chest where the necklace Ashura had given him still lay, then patting against his pocket where the Sibylline decidedly still wasn't.
As he takes in the open space and the void outside the sweeping windows, the expression on his face shifts smoothly from confusion, to shock, to a vivid anger. He sits up from his bed so quickly that it upends with a clatter]
No! No! [his shout is shrill, edging on hysterical, and much higher than might be expected out of him at first glance. He turns in place, as if looking for something or someone to direct this at instead of thin air, then settles at shouting at nothing]
Damn you, Paradisa! Is is really going to be one last trick? Haven't I served my time? Haven't I done enough?
[His eyes, vivid yellow and pale blue, find his communicator sitting on cot next to his, and he stalks over to pick it up a rather obvious air of contempt. His brows knit together in slight puzzlement amidst the storming anger]
What is this? [The fact that he actually knows the answer to that raises more questions] Is the journal not good enough for you any longer?
no subject
The one and only.
Mostly, it's a TV show. In space. They're watching us with cameras all the time. A group called Atroma run it.
no subject
I thought tv shows had scripts. Like a play. And you told me yourself nothing good happens in space. And...I'm sorry...did you say...all the time?
[o o p s]
no subject
Not this one. It's more...ad lib. And yes all the time. Even now.
[He considers.]
Despite the castle's tendency to make space horrible and traumatising for us, nothing that bad has happened just yet. Not saying it won't, mind, but there's been no zombie aliens nor gateways to Hell yet.
I know. I checked.
no subject
I'd consider you the expert on that particular subject.
[He closes his eyes for a moment after that, swallowing back a lump in his throat. It's not precisely the being here that is upsetting but the fact that he'd had the promise of going home dangled in front of his face, only to have it yanked away. But since people are watching, he focuses on practical matters for the time being.]
So, what do I need to know?
no subject
[He taps the back of his head.]
You'll have a chip by there, don't try and pull it out. It's got a bunch of information dumped in your head. Makes it easier to cope with the space thing, I guess. It also gives you the building blocks for whatever job they've given you.
no subject
[He arches one delicate brow]
Job?
no subject
Hmm. You don't have to do it, of course, but you will be given one, anyway. I'm a communications officer. And a captain.
no subject
[He chuckles softly, amusement tempered by the situation]
You? Captain?
no subject
[He remembers the last time it almost died. It wasn't fun. ]
I don't do anything, I have a co-captain. I just got given the job and stuck with it for the fancy bed.
no subject
[He leaves off about the door because he might cry. Or, at least, he rather not discuss that part quite so openly if he can help it.]
Oh, well, I was worried for a moment there. I'm glad your priorities are still intact.
no subject
[He grimaces a little, the thought isn't a pleasant one. He never hated being in the castle. At least, for the most part. But there was always that undercurrent of sinisterness he could never shift. ]
Well, of course, can't have me slacking now, can we?
no subject
[That's about all the steam for banter he has at the moment, and after that he sighs and presses a finger between his eyes for a few moments as he feels his hold on his emotions slip]
What comes next?
no subject
no subject
The sooner the better.
no subject
no subject
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no subject
[As if he had anything better to do, but he is curious despite the annoyance. He'll shut the device and do that after a small parting smile, which as much as he gives as far as a goodbye]
no subject