Nicholas D. Wolfwood (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
holygunslinger) wrote in ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png)
driftfleet2017-08-11 11:36 pm
holygunslinger) wrote in driftfleet2017-08-11 11:36 pm
Entry tags:
Edgelord classic rock reference goes here.
Who: Wolfwood and you!
Broadcast: none
Action: Getting used to space, still on the Marsiva, and later on the Huntress.
When: 8/11 and until the shuffle, and then on the Huntress 8/12
[Wolfwood's decided to poke around the new technology, and find out how more than the showers and food processors work. He's really been taking it all in, and trying to absorb all of it, all the novelty and newness of his surroundings. Listen, the guy's been living in Steampunk Tatooine his whole life. He needs to get adjusted to the things he suddenly just knows. He's noticed the implant, the weird little nub behind his ear, and figures, hey. A life for a nub, he's not going to argue.
So far, he's poked around the medical equipment, the food processors, the communications equipment, he's seen if he can make the lights shut off or dim, and has really just been obnoxiously soaking in the sheer amazement he has over what he considers Lost Technology. Come tell him to stop messing with the gadgets, before he does something stupid.]
[... Later, though, he's over it. He lights up one of his last ten cigarettes in the pack and looks out the observation window from a sofa, gathering his thoughts. He has a sinking feeling about all of this, but really can't put his finger on just why he feels this way. It all smacks of semi-malevolence. Nothing as severe as he's dealt with in the past, but he's got a hairy suspicion that as great as it is that he's alive, he's not going to be let to retire so easily. So here's a scowling ex-dead-guy just glaring at the huge window looking out into space. Pensive, and probably looking fairly owly, but still approachable.]
[He's still pretty impressed by the whole I'm in SPACE thing, but it's died down a little, and he's starting to look around the quarters he's been assigned. He rubs his face and then shrugs. It's pretty all right, but something big, weighty, and full of weapons was missing. It just didn't feel like home. Oh well, he figures. He'll just have to make do. He notices that he's not the only one with the security augment on this ship, and he decides, well heck, time to meet the other crew.]
Broadcast: none
Action: Getting used to space, still on the Marsiva, and later on the Huntress.
When: 8/11 and until the shuffle, and then on the Huntress 8/12
[Wolfwood's decided to poke around the new technology, and find out how more than the showers and food processors work. He's really been taking it all in, and trying to absorb all of it, all the novelty and newness of his surroundings. Listen, the guy's been living in Steampunk Tatooine his whole life. He needs to get adjusted to the things he suddenly just knows. He's noticed the implant, the weird little nub behind his ear, and figures, hey. A life for a nub, he's not going to argue.
So far, he's poked around the medical equipment, the food processors, the communications equipment, he's seen if he can make the lights shut off or dim, and has really just been obnoxiously soaking in the sheer amazement he has over what he considers Lost Technology. Come tell him to stop messing with the gadgets, before he does something stupid.]
[... Later, though, he's over it. He lights up one of his last ten cigarettes in the pack and looks out the observation window from a sofa, gathering his thoughts. He has a sinking feeling about all of this, but really can't put his finger on just why he feels this way. It all smacks of semi-malevolence. Nothing as severe as he's dealt with in the past, but he's got a hairy suspicion that as great as it is that he's alive, he's not going to be let to retire so easily. So here's a scowling ex-dead-guy just glaring at the huge window looking out into space. Pensive, and probably looking fairly owly, but still approachable.]
[He's still pretty impressed by the whole I'm in SPACE thing, but it's died down a little, and he's starting to look around the quarters he's been assigned. He rubs his face and then shrugs. It's pretty all right, but something big, weighty, and full of weapons was missing. It just didn't feel like home. Oh well, he figures. He'll just have to make do. He notices that he's not the only one with the security augment on this ship, and he decides, well heck, time to meet the other crew.]
no subject
[At the offer of transferring, he decides to shrug and play it cool.]
I'll have to meet some of this crew first, but since you're offering, I guess I could lend a hand on your place. Turns out, I'm security. So I guess, if I can trust you at the helm, you'll have to trust me at the guns.
no subject
no subject
[Excuse me, where're we going? Wolfwood looks a bit lost now.]
no subject
[Vash will lead them back to his shuttle. He opens the door and Wolfwood will see a couple seats one clearly the pilot seat as its closest to the blinking lights and knobs of the control panel.
The potted red geranium sitting snugly among some of the buttons also tips off that this one belongs to Vash.
Vash points out a seat for Wolfwood to strap himself into as he takes his spot at the helm.]
no subject
See, I'm surprised he didn't dent your face and just dented your door; but good point about the food. Nobody takes another man's sandwich.
no subject
All strapped in?
[Once he is the engines start to hum to life. In a matter of moments the smaller ship pulls away from the Huntress and out into space. Out the window the pair are surrounded by stars. Below them the planet below that's slowly getting bigger may be sparkling more than the stars. Vash stays quiet so Wolfwood can be amazed.]