driftfleet | Look - up in the sky...!

Entry tags:

Look - up in the sky...!

Suddenly, the SS Pathstone and the SS Golden begin to move on their own... slowly, calmly, they drift to two different points, a certain distance apart, away from the other ships of the fleet. Then, just as slowly, they turn to face each other.

And that is all the warning there is before the engines engage -- full speed ahead.

Like a pair of rockets, the ships torpedo toward each other, perfectly lined up for a head-on collision, and there is nothing to stop them. No matter what buttons the crews press, no matter how much they might panic, nothing is going to stop the inevitable. Any other ships watching will not have time to attempt any sort of interception.

CRASH!!

As if to shield spectators' eyes from the horrors of ships colliding in space, there's a blinding light upon impact -- and once it gradually fades, the results can be clearly seen by all: There is no wreckage. Nothing is broken. But where there were once two ships... now there's only one.

One ship that is... very clearly made up of parts from the SS Pathstone and the SS Golden, but somehow seems well put together, at least!

-----------

On the bridge, the crews of the SS Golden and the SS Pathstone arrive, along with the usual pop! of Atroma confetti and ridiculous jingle music upon a successful shuffle. Sitting in the captain's chair is a round cake, just large enough for everyone to have one slice. There's a single candle, and the following message scribbled on top in yellow icing:

"Congratulations - SS Goldstone!
Happy Fusion!"

... What, did you think you were going to die? Sorry about that.

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

[He motions at her sleeve.]

And cake~ please.

[Then he smiles.]

Well, that's good to know. I'm sorry that others had to suffer in a different place for so long though.

[His smile falters and he tilts his head to one side.]

How long has it been since you last saw your homeland?

Cake is going to wait until I go down to the ring thing and pick up more ingredients.

[... She sobers at that.]

... My world doesn't use Earth's calendar, and the last place... Wasn't a good place to try to keep track of time. I spent a lot of it in a drunken haze, honestly.

But... It's been over two years now, at least.

[As she admits it, her shoulders sag, and she looks at the ground. She's homesick. She misses her friends. She misses a world that works the way she understands it. She misses not having to explain every little detail of how she works. She misses adventuring, fighting monsters, exploring dungeons.

She misses her life, and it shows.]

[He could tease her about the cake again, but seeing her suddenly fall inward makes him frown slightly. Two years is a long time to be away from the familiar, to miss her friends and family, her life before all this.

He isn't sure if he'd survive two years here knowing what was going on in his homeland.

He isn't sure he'd live that long anyway.]

You're stronger than I imagined then, surviving so long here and elsewhere.

[He tries to smile at her, trying to reassure her and not sure if it's working.]

Perhaps soon you will win this silly game of theirs and return home at last.

[She smiles, but it's bitter. There's no joy, just grim amusement, like a horrible joke he's not in on.]

... 'Surviving', huh. I... would like that. I'd like that a lot.

[He doesn't like making people sad. He can see it in her posture, her smile, everything. The memories of home are too far away, too painful.]

So shouldn't we amuse our captors a little to earn you your ticket home a little faster?

[He reaches out to try and tug her sleeve hem. Cough cough, give him the cake!!!!]

[She tugs away from him and takes a step back, guarding her personal bubble.

(Now that her focus has shifted, the fire fades from her staff.)]

If we're part of the same ship now, you're part of my crew, and I'm not going to let my crew kill themselves just because it benefits me.

["again", she almost adds, but stops herself.]

[He pouts and pulls his hand back, making a big show of rocking back on the heels of his geta.]

Fiiiiine. I wanted to help, but if you'd prefer we do it the hard way, I suppose I can help you gather whatever you need for making one.

We never had them in my country, so they're very interesting to me.

You never had... cake?

[She seems very surprised.]

I had my first taste with the one they gave me when I first arrived on the Golden.

[Can you see why he wants that thing so badly now, Nightingale?]

I thought it was poisonous at first, too, but when it seemed no one else was afraid of it, I tried it. I've wanted one ever since.

It's... Well, they're pretty unhealthy anyway.

[All this talk of cake is making her think of someone in particular, while her mind is already on the people she misses. But she doesn't want to dwell on that.]

I'm not sure how well any I make will turn out, since I never regained that skill, but the implant should help, I hope.

It's alright.

[Because he's dying anyway and the one person he cared about sticking around for isn't here. He's likely to be dead before he gets a chance to go home, so why care, right? Right. Wooo....]

I'll just exercise a little harder afterward.

Does the thing in your head make you better at cooking? Because mine makes it so I can shoot a gun, but I dislike them.

I'm... also not a fan.

[Of guns, or having things in her head.]

No, but that's because I was a damn good cook before we ever got here. I have enough stored ingredients that I don't use the sludge they give us to work with, too.

You've spoken of that twice now.

[First it was inventory, now it's her storage.]

Where do all your things go?

... Into my inventory? I'm sorry, but, I don't have a better answer. It's just something everyone from my world can do.

[The staff in her hand vanishes into thin air, as if to demonstrate her point, and her robe similarly vanishes, replaced with a much... different outfit.]

[Okay, he jumped a little when the staff vanished, but he took a full step back when the clothes disappeared and were instantly replaced for two reasons:

1. Magically vanishing clothes
2. SO MUCH SKIN

He's still getting used to Western fashion and he stares at her for a bit before relaxing. He's never seen a power like that here, and there are a lot of weird powers here.]

....Well then.

[What else can he say???]

That must be useful?

... Is something wrong?

[she caught that reaction but isn't sure what the problem could possibly be?]

But I guess it is? Like I said, everyone where I'm from can do it.

[Nothing's wrong, but her indecency!!!

But nah, it's cool. He'll just casually not look at her clothes. Doot de doot.]

No, not at all.

[n o t h i n g]

Not many here can do that though. At least, no one that I've met.

Are... you sure?

[well, whatever, ok then.]

Yeah, I've noticed. I have to explain it every time. It's frustrating.

Yes.

[n o]

I'm sorry to make you explain it again then. My world doesn't seem as advanced or... curious as others.

[In fact no one even seems to care that he walks around in kimono all day long, every day except for laundry days where he stays away from people until his clothes are dry again.]

For one, we can't make fire appear at will. Or have such cute names.

"Curious", huh.

[She sounds a little bitter, but his next bit confuses her.]

... Cute? And, um, my name isn't something I got in my world.

It isn't?

[He tilts his head.]

What was your name in your own world? And where did "Nightingale" come from then?

Nightingale is the name my team gave me.

More than that, isn't really your concern.

[in other words, grind up your s.link.]

[He considers that a moment, and then a smile spreads across his face and he bows his head.

He has to respect her privacy and he understands that. He is, after all, still lying to everyone on his own ship. There's only one person who knows his real name, and that was by accident.]

I understand. I apologize for prying, Nightingale-san.

... It's all right. Thanks for understanding.

[She has... a complicated relationship with her own name.]

But I'm kind of being grilled over here, but you're not saying much about yourself.

Well, that's probably because there isn't much to say about me.

[Liar.]

I'm from so far in the past compared to everyone else, I must play catch-up to learn what all of you consider common knowledge.

[That's the truth. He points up to the ceiling.]

For example, the lights in the ceiling. And all this metal everywhere.

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject