Vanyel Ashkevron (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
peacockherald) wrote in ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png)
driftfleet2015-04-12 03:57 pm
peacockherald) wrote in driftfleet2015-04-12 03:57 pm
Entry tags:
video | wrong turn at albuquerque
Who: Vanyel Ashkevron & Anyone
Broadcast: Video, Fleet Wide
Action: SS Marsiva
When: After waking up & the week of April 12–18
[ Vanyel comes awake slowly, head pounding, feeling like he had just spent a week recovering from magic sickness, though at least he didn't feel the need to vomit. Blinking, he looks around the room, sitting up gingerly, clearly cautious. Looking down at himself, he's not surprised to see his Whites (which to anyone else would look medieval, a period costume), perfect and pristine, boots sitting at the end of the bed, polished within an inch of their life.
Over a series of long moments, those watching can see the realization dawn on his face that whatever he had been expecting, it was not this. Not the metal walls, or the sheets that covered him. Eyes dart around, trying to make sense of it all, lips set in a hard line. Vanyel suddenly stops, eyes glazing as if far away, his already pale skin paling further, hands shaking some in his lap, head hanging and his dark hair falling forward to shield his face. It takes several long moments for him to come out what could only be shock.
He swung his feet over the edge, reaching for his boots, tugging them on before standing. Clearly he has no idea his every move is being broadcasted. He sat there, rubbing his hands against his thighs. ]
It was to much to hope for, I suppose...
[ Another pause, gathering thoughts. ]
If anyone is there, my name is Vanyel Ashkevron.
[ Now why would he do that? Perhaps this has happened before? Or maybe he expects guards outside the door. Anything was truly possible. ]
And I would very much like to know where I am.
Broadcast: Video, Fleet Wide
Action: SS Marsiva
When: After waking up & the week of April 12–18
[ Vanyel comes awake slowly, head pounding, feeling like he had just spent a week recovering from magic sickness, though at least he didn't feel the need to vomit. Blinking, he looks around the room, sitting up gingerly, clearly cautious. Looking down at himself, he's not surprised to see his Whites (which to anyone else would look medieval, a period costume), perfect and pristine, boots sitting at the end of the bed, polished within an inch of their life.
Over a series of long moments, those watching can see the realization dawn on his face that whatever he had been expecting, it was not this. Not the metal walls, or the sheets that covered him. Eyes dart around, trying to make sense of it all, lips set in a hard line. Vanyel suddenly stops, eyes glazing as if far away, his already pale skin paling further, hands shaking some in his lap, head hanging and his dark hair falling forward to shield his face. It takes several long moments for him to come out what could only be shock.
He swung his feet over the edge, reaching for his boots, tugging them on before standing. Clearly he has no idea his every move is being broadcasted. He sat there, rubbing his hands against his thighs. ]
It was to much to hope for, I suppose...
[ Another pause, gathering thoughts. ]
If anyone is there, my name is Vanyel Ashkevron.
[ Now why would he do that? Perhaps this has happened before? Or maybe he expects guards outside the door. Anything was truly possible. ]
And I would very much like to know where I am.