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driftfleet2017-03-04 01:11 am
perfecting) wrote in driftfleet2017-03-04 01:11 am
Entry tags:
ᴀɴᴅ ᴛʜᴇʀᴇ's ɴᴏ ᴇxᴘʟᴏsɪᴏɴs ʜᴇʀᴇ ( ᴏᴘᴇɴ )
Who: Nancy Wheeler + you!
Broadcast: no
Action: heron, iskaulit
When: all through march.
( A; Heron - Arrival )
[ The new arrival can't be more than seventeen-years old. Carrying a school bag, pins in her hair, wearing a pale pair of jeans and red jacket above her sweater. Nancy looks like a high-school girl on the way to her locker.
She had given those who had seen her arrival a little tight smile before slinking off. She never really had the new-school jitters. In Hawkins, everyone knew everyone since they were children. Nancy knew the kids in her high school since pre-school. She never really had to deal with so many strangers before.
She finds a room and places her bag, takes out her books an pencil-box. It's far from her room but it's still better than the Marsiva.
If you pass by her room, you might notice the door is open. If she sees you, she'll get up and call out, a hesitant and yet certain, 'hey'. ]
( B; Heron - nights )
[ the new security officer doesn't really sleep. She tries, however. Nancy lies in the dark and closes her eyes and manages a little sleep but in the end, it's always the same. She hears a terrible growl, sees a dark, cold world and a faceless monster and wakes up gasping.
You might find her wandering at odd hours, making herself tea in the kitchen, going to sit in the shuttle bay or in the armory, reading one of her study books, writing names of people and worlds and terms in a notebook she names FLEET. ]
( C; iskaulit )
[ when she learns the truth of her destined job, she accepts it without a fuss.
It gives her easy access to what she wanted since her arrival, weapons. She places the broken piece of glass she armed herself with on the Marsiva beneath her pillow and goes to the armory.
Instinct leads her to a handgun and she takes it with her, hidden in her jacket pocket. She knows better than to try and use it inside the ship. She goes through the network, reading files and messages until she finds what she's looking for.
She knows nothing about this world but she had seen enough to let herself think she might not need to use one again. It's harder on her own, harder without Jonathan and their conversations but she pushes nerves aside. This isn't any different than shooting cans and it is certainly easier than shooting -
the thing. the monster.
It's the monster she thinks about when she enters the firing range. No beast that she has ever heard of is one of its kind. If there is one, there is another. if there is another than this time, Nancy Wheeler is going to be prepared for it when it comes.
She looks up at the lights, draws a breath when they remain steady, not a single flicker.
It's just me, she thinks, it doesn't like the light.
She thinks about the monster, she thinks about what it had done to Barb ( there is a scream in her head, dead, dead! ) and pulls the trigger once and then again and again and once more.
The noise doesn't startle her, her hand remains steady. Some people are fine dancers or singers. Nancy Wheeler is a good shot. Sixteen years old in jeans and a sweater, she loads more bullets and tries again. ]
Broadcast: no
Action: heron, iskaulit
When: all through march.
( A; Heron - Arrival )
[ The new arrival can't be more than seventeen-years old. Carrying a school bag, pins in her hair, wearing a pale pair of jeans and red jacket above her sweater. Nancy looks like a high-school girl on the way to her locker.
She had given those who had seen her arrival a little tight smile before slinking off. She never really had the new-school jitters. In Hawkins, everyone knew everyone since they were children. Nancy knew the kids in her high school since pre-school. She never really had to deal with so many strangers before.
She finds a room and places her bag, takes out her books an pencil-box. It's far from her room but it's still better than the Marsiva.
If you pass by her room, you might notice the door is open. If she sees you, she'll get up and call out, a hesitant and yet certain, 'hey'. ]
( B; Heron - nights )
[ the new security officer doesn't really sleep. She tries, however. Nancy lies in the dark and closes her eyes and manages a little sleep but in the end, it's always the same. She hears a terrible growl, sees a dark, cold world and a faceless monster and wakes up gasping.
You might find her wandering at odd hours, making herself tea in the kitchen, going to sit in the shuttle bay or in the armory, reading one of her study books, writing names of people and worlds and terms in a notebook she names FLEET. ]
( C; iskaulit )
[ when she learns the truth of her destined job, she accepts it without a fuss.
It gives her easy access to what she wanted since her arrival, weapons. She places the broken piece of glass she armed herself with on the Marsiva beneath her pillow and goes to the armory.
Instinct leads her to a handgun and she takes it with her, hidden in her jacket pocket. She knows better than to try and use it inside the ship. She goes through the network, reading files and messages until she finds what she's looking for.
She knows nothing about this world but she had seen enough to let herself think she might not need to use one again. It's harder on her own, harder without Jonathan and their conversations but she pushes nerves aside. This isn't any different than shooting cans and it is certainly easier than shooting -
the thing. the monster.
It's the monster she thinks about when she enters the firing range. No beast that she has ever heard of is one of its kind. If there is one, there is another. if there is another than this time, Nancy Wheeler is going to be prepared for it when it comes.
She looks up at the lights, draws a breath when they remain steady, not a single flicker.
It's just me, she thinks, it doesn't like the light.
She thinks about the monster, she thinks about what it had done to Barb ( there is a scream in her head, dead, dead! ) and pulls the trigger once and then again and again and once more.
The noise doesn't startle her, her hand remains steady. Some people are fine dancers or singers. Nancy Wheeler is a good shot. Sixteen years old in jeans and a sweater, she loads more bullets and tries again. ]
C
At first she doesn't pay much attention to anyone else, but the rapid burst of accurate fire is impressive enough for her to look over at the younger woman doing the shooting.]
Not bad, you look like you know your way around one of those.
no subject
[ it's Jonathan's story but she adopts it without too much of a fuss. it's the only one that'll make sense. she can't really go and tell people I've learned my way when I had to fight a monster in the woods. ]
He allowed us to shoot cans and stuff.
no subject
What did you hunt?
no subject
[ it's the first thing that comes to mind. Jonathan said something about rabbits and for a moment, nancy thinks about the poor dying deer in the woods. she could never shoot an innocent animal but there has to be a reason why she's here. ]
I'm security on my ship. I thought I should probably practice.
no subject
Here, try it, shoot me.