driftfleet | 001 || video & action

Entry tags:

001 || video & action

Who: Isabela and everyone ever (or anyone who wants to talk to her, at least)
Broadcast: Fleetwide
Action: SS Huntress, or Marsiva if you can catch her in the brief time before she's assigned her ship.
When: In the hours pre-shuffle and just post-shuffle

[When Isabela wakes up the first thing she does is check for daggers. Which are, of course, absent. She checks both her surroundings and her person.]

Shit.

[Unsurprisingly voicing her frustration doesn't help. There doesn't even seem to be anything she can use as a makeshift weapon. Cautiously, she bends down to retrieve a rather magnificent hat that seems to have fallen off while she was still out. She feels around in that too. Just in case. Any concealed weapons it might have held at one time are no longer there, however.

Is it even possible for her to look any more pissed off? Evidently so.]

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

[He fishes a toothpick out of some vague pocket somewhere and sticks it in his mouth before grinning at her lopsidedly. He's walking them to the observation deck: nothing like getting space all up in your face to make a point.]

Oh, yeah, you seem like the type of gal who hates forcing anyone's hand.

[She has no idea where they're going, but it's unlikely to be less interesting than where she woke up. The bar isn't set very high.]

Absolutely detest it.

Yeah, yeah. [He shakes his head again, and then opens the door to the observation desk.]

Voilà. [Said with the flair of a man who doesn't know a lick of French. He seems pretty pleased with himself- probably because he's still genuinely, honestly amazed every time he looks at it.]

[Isabela doesn't respond. Not to him. She brushes past him, transfixed by the sight that greets her. ]

[He leans against a wall, arms crossed, grinning. That's what he'd intended to happen, and he's kind of glad she's not cynical enough to not enjoy this as much as he still enjoys it.]

[For a time it's almost as if she's forgotten him. Of all the things she's imagined this isn't one of them. She's seen the stars a thousand times. She knows all the ones seen from Thedas and how to navigate them.

But this... this is different.]

Magnificent.

[He's been fiddling with the toothpick, and then with assorted bits and bobs in his pockets- he finds it challenging to stay still, alright? But he's kind of happy to stand there and watch the view (both of them).]

Thought you'd like it.

[She does like it. She knows already she'll miss the feel of the wind in her face and the smell of sea of she remains stuck here. She always does. But the sight stirs her excitement. It's a little terrifying, but most definitely awe inspiring.]

Aren't you supposed to finish with the high point? Anything else seems doomed to anticlimax.

[He's already moving again, walking up closer to the deck's edge, craning his neck. He laughs a little at that terrible joke.]

I'm a dancer. I know how to make a good finish, Admiral.

[Isabela follows him with a laugh.]

Oh, I do hope so.

[Man, he is still in the groove. He's looking out at the stars, occasionally shifting on his feet like he's restless- he's not, really, he's just slightly hyperactive.]

So, pirate, huh? Is it all yo-ho-ho and a bottle of rum, or are those just the stories?

[She sidles up behind him, resting her arms casually on his shoulders. Partly to still him, and partly just because she enjoys contact.]

It would be awfully boring if it wasn't. Sometimes there's even buried treasure.

[Alright, okay, that gets him to stand still. She's warm, and that's nice, that's good, greatness. He tilts his head a little so she can still see the stars.]

Oh, yeah? Hey, my partner'n me once found a guy with a treasure map sorta... [he gestures vaguely at his abdomen] sewn into him. He even had a hook. You ever see anythin' like that?

[He's trying to determine how much of the pirate stories he knows are true. With every cliche she confirms he will get more excited, no biggie.]

Never. [Though she is intrigued.] Pirates are brutal, but never so selfless. After exacting whatever grisly fate they decided they'd have taken that map for themselves. Not leave it for someone else to stumble upon.

Unless it was a fake. Did you ever find any treasure?

Oh, we found a treasure alright. [So he's not usually the storyteller, but this had been one of the weirdest cases in a line of weird cases, and he gets to tell it to an actual pirate? He's gonna take his moment in the spotlight. He ducks out from underneath her arms to face her again, so she can feel the full impact of the story.]

Get this-- This guy lands on our car, knife in his back, bam, dead, right? Last thing he says is 'treasure chest', and he's got that whole map thing goin' on. We check it out, he had some gold lined away, only everyone knows him says he'd been dead for a year. Turns out, there's all these guys running around a ship, pretending it's a ghost ship so they can their whole pirate thing, and the map on the dead guy's chest turns out to be a map to the rest of the gold, provided you got the coordinates-- [He takes a deep breath before continuing] So me 'n Fraser infiltrate, we get right down to the nitty-gritty, trying to find this gold, but then-- well, long story short [that's short?] the ship goes down, we almost kick the bucket, find the ship anyway, find a ton of gold. But they ain't gonna let us just cuff 'em, right? So we huddle up in this little submarine to escape the ghost ship, and the next thing we know, bam! We're on a real, old-fashioned ship made by this crazy Mountie lady, cannons and all, and we fight the pirates, get the gold, and me'n Fraser make up.

[There was no mention of a fight, Ray. But apparently that's something that pleased him. He stands close to her while he tells the story, gesticulating wildly.]

Wild, right?

[She has no idea about approximately half the things he's talking about, but it's enthralling enough despite the fact he clearly lacks the natural storytelling abilities of Varric.]

Oh, absolutely. Although you know you didn't have to stop at the point you were about to make up with your extremely attractive partner.

[Or at least she assumes Fraser is the partner he was talking about. She's also going to assume he's attractive otherwise where's the fun? And ignore that he probably meant work partner, not sexual. It's not her fault if he isn't being specific.]

[He rolls his eyes, but his ears get a slight tinge of red, because here's the thing-- Ray was married for a good while, and it's not like the precinct is an open-minded kind of environment, but he knows what he likes and he's not ashamed of it.

But Fraser is pristine, Fraser is up here on that pedestal: perfect Mountie, do not touch, look at funny or otherwise get your Chicago paws on. Thinking of Fraser in that way feels off-limits, except when he's feeling his most lonely.]

He's my work partner, smartass. [not gonna deny the extremely attractive part] Nothin' more to tell there.

[Oh, Isabela doesn't miss the blush of his ears. Or the implication. She grins.]

But he is pretty.

Guys like Fraser aren't pretty. [Annoyingly handsome, maybe] Anyway, I don't think Mounties do pretty, 'cause pretty doesn't wrestle bears and catch trappers an' stuff.

Ruggedly handsome then. With a strong jaw and bulging muscles.

[She has a really nice mental image of Fraser right now. Probably wildly inaccurate, but she enjoys it.]

[He crosses his arms and rolls his eyes again, his posture now completely defensive. He mutters, irritably,]

'Bulging muscles', who says that? Sounds like somethin' outta Frannie's romance novels, not like something anyone'd even say.

[Reality is probably even better than her imagination. But he may be biased.]

[Isabela just laughs at him, touching a hand to his to try and coax him out of that defensive posture.]

It could be worse. I could have described them as ripping out of his shirt.

[To his credit, he snaps out of it as easily as he went into it-- The touch to his hand makes him realize how weird he's being, and he unfolds his arms, lets them hang limply at his side.

He snorts at the suggestion, shifting on his feet. He misses Fraser, now that they're talking about him. Misses him more than he'd realized.]

That uniform's pretty much sacred, the way he talks about it. He ever rip outta his shirt the Queen'd probably come over to yell at him in person.

Would she give him a good spanking too?

[He lets out a loud laugh, all awkwardness forgotten.] Jesus Christ, she's like 80 or somethin', you're disgusting!

[he loves it]

action; Marsiva

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