driftfleet | Entries tagged with syeira

Who: Syeira and anyone who thinks this applies to them
Broadcast: Fleetwide
Action: Red Fish if desired
When: After the sweep

[Video]

[Clean up has been rough to say the least. The place is still stained, and it might never come out. But this is when she realizes what's happened. She calls them, and they don't answer. She goes to their rooms, and the places are empty. They're gone.

She doesn't trash her room, or break down. Though it's a near thing. It stays a near thing, hovering just under the surface when she turns on her comm. She looks worried, distressed, but she holds onto her calm with both hands.]

Red Fish crew... This is your captain. I need you all to check in. Now preferably.

Actually, everyone I know, please check in. I need to see who's still here.

[The why. She should tell people why. They have other friends.]

Zhas and Coil are both gone.

[Shit! She will not cry. She swallows and her eyes are moist but she doesn't cry. ]

Just say something. Please.

child_of_bhaal

Who: Syeira and you
Broadcast: Fleetwide
Action: Not really, but Red Fish if you want
When: Today.

[She doesn't really broadcast much. And this is not a very usual thing to address everyone with, so she's just a tad awkward under the serious tone.]

Hello everyone. I'm Syeira, one of the captains of the Red Fish. I don't know all of you, and I do apologize for that. But I have something that, I imagine, will be of interest, if not concern, to many of you here. Especially in relation to our ever out of reach captors. So, ah, I suppose to the point then. About a month ago....

[She hesitates, looks away but almost immediately looks back, making herself say it. With a calm, straight face, and dry eyes.]

I died.

[All right. Said and done. Move on. Move forward to the point.]

I know that for a lot of people here, that's not exactly surprising- seeing a person perish and then be returned to life. Even on my world such things are possible; common in fact. Even long after death, if one gets a hold of strong enough magic.

However, this is a unique situation for a few reasons. Firstly, I am of a...rare and particular family tree that cannot, by any means, be revived after death. Yet, here I am.

[She lifts her hands and lets them fall. Takes a small breath and continues.]

Secondly. I have been having dreams. A dream, really. After my revival, I was extremely ill, for near to a tenday. Which this next item could have been attributed to, if it had only happened while I was feverish. However, I am quite well now, and the same dream keeps occurring. I would describe it to you, but whenever I attempt to recall the details, my memory suddenly fails.

Again, for most, it could easily be written off. A symptom of a physical trauma. And again, I am not someone who falls into the norm. I have always dreamed in a very specific and singular way. This is new.

[Her gaze trails off, her thoughts turning inward.]

New and suspiciously vague. I can tell you all, what I dream of is something dark, and with ill intent. I can't give more than that. I wish I could.

[She blinks and looks back, focusing again. But she's about finished.]

It isn't much. And I'm not sure yet how this might help us with our overarching puzzle that is Atroma, but I knew I needed to share with you all. Thank you for your time.

dontthinkaboutelephants

Who: Arthur and Syeira
Broadcast: N/A
Action: Starting on the Red Fish
When: Today

( It's not really an unusual day. )

child_of_bhaal

Who: Syeira and YOU
Broadcast: N/A
Action: Red Fish, other ships, Iskaulit
When: Beginning 8/10 and ongoing

[Red Fish]

Hello Red Fish. Here she is. Again. Clean as a whistle, in her clothes that should be less than dust, all neat and tidy. Even her hair is brushed. But somehow she still looks like a wreck. Probably due to the all over flush and the sweating due to her raging fever. And also the fact that she feels as weak as a newborn kitten. She stumbles, leaning heavily against walls when she can't keep to her feet.

[On your ship, her first week back]

Somehow, she's there. Feverish, very likely still dressed for bed. Because that's where she ought to be. But no, she's on your ship. Wandering around, maybe looking for someone, or something. Talking to herself softly, deliriously. How did she fly a shuttle in this condition? Probably very poorly.

"Here...Here? Wrong place. Or the right place?"

[Iskaulit, first week]

She has a stick of charcoal in her hand and she's chosen some spot, a wall or floor, perhaps in the garden or the gym, or one of the bars or even a hallway, and she's furiously drawing. It's just lines and smudges in black on black. The more she tries to make it make sense, the less it seems to, and the more her obvious frustration grows.

"I saw...I saw but it won't come out..." There's black streaks across her face, her hands and on her shift. She's still a weak, feverish mess.

child_of_bhaal

Who: Syeira, Arthur, Maglor, and Finrod.
Broadcast:None
Action: On the planet
When: The end of July

( When the world of flesh is beneath you, even creatures mysterious and magical will fall. )

burnstoohot

Who: Fëanor [AND OPEN]
Broadcast: N/A
Action: SS Bloodsport, the planet
When: Throughout first half of July

Bloodsport: Open to crewmates or visitors!

It was far too easy to get caught up in putting his new knowledge to practical use. Fëanor would spend hours (sometimes days) at a time in the engine room, poking at this or that. Taking one thing apart only to put it back together in a way that he felt would enhance function or appearance, depending on mood. The elf would forget, as had always been an issue, to care for himself when his interest was roused.

Anyone care to drag him out for food or rest? Even a walk around the ship?

Planet: OTA!
Forest
Trees and nature always called to the hearts and minds of elves. Fëanor was no exception, though he far preferred actually working in forges, making new things than out and about. It made little difference though, as he'd been cooped up in various ships for longer than he was used to staying in one room. And with such a world to explore as this, how could he refuse the chance to get outside? Breath fresh air again, feel dirt and earth under his feet and life all around.

Beach
When the elf came upon the water he found himself stuck, gazing out at the expanse and feeling the waves crash against him, threatening to drag him out to sea. But he always stood still, and firm, knowing how to move with it to avoid actually being swept out.

[OOC: Oooooooooooooooor make up your own prompt and we'll play! Prose or brackets, I'll match.]

mortalcoil

Who: Anyone aboard the SS Red Fish
Broadcast: Probably Not
Action: SS Red Fish
When: Through the end of May

[as usual, all is friendly smiles and laughs on the most lovable ship in the fleet!]

child_of_bhaal

Who: Syeira and YOU
Broadcast: Nope
Action: Varric's bar on the Iskaulit mostly
When: Directly after the shuffle.

( CW: Excessive, purposeful alcohol consumption and depression )

dontthinkaboutelephants

Who: Arthur
Broadcast: Fleetwide
Action: Red Fish
When: Now

Fleetwide Video Broadcast

[Arthur appears to be in his bunk. It's obvious that he hasn't gelled his hair for once, and he's... a teenager? About fourteen years-old, by the looks of it. His face looks young, less lined.] Uh, hey. I'm Arthur Hall. I'm a little confused... Has anyone seen my mom?

[WAIT NO-] I mean, I don't need my mom. I was just wondering.

[He fidgets throughout the broadcast, more so than older Arthur.] This is really cool, though. Are we really in space? I have a friend who can name all the planets while burping. Not these planets, though. Earth's.

[He hops off his bunk, communicator still trained on his face.] Anyway, tell me what's fun to do here. I'm totally bored.

Red Fish Action

[Arthur can be found first in the bridge. He's pressed up as close to the windows as he can get, looking outside at the planets. He's never been somewhere so big and open. It's kind of amazing. He watches with big, round brown eyes, his hair tossled, his face less closed off.

He can also be found in the kitchen. As fussy as older Arthur is about food, younger Arthur is worse. He's got a bowl of some kind of goo in front of him, and he's staring at it sullenly, his arms crossed on the table and his head dropped on top of them. He leans forward to sniff at it and makes a face.] Gross.

apurrstate

Who: Anders
Broadcast: Video, fleetwide
Action: The Marsiva, if at all
When: Today

[The video turns on to see a bunch of fabric. A keen eye might notice it looks kind've like a skirt. A knowing eye would recognize it as mage's robes. The man holding the communicator isn't paying it any attention beyond having picked it up, he's too busy making kissing noises as he searches the too empty ship.]

Pounce! Ser-Pounce-a-lot! Here, kitty!

[The tone of voice he was using was higher and probably sounded a little ridiculous.]

Please don't have gotten into any trouble...

[But there was definite concern in his tone as the man searched for his missing kitten.
At least until his step staggers and then stops and there's a catch in his breathing that could nearly be called a gasp.]

Well...would you look at that...

[Not that anyone could with the screen still faced away, but Anders had no thought for the device or much of anything aside from his kitten and the large window displaying the vast emptiness of space before him.]

mortalcoil

Who: Coil
Broadcast: Anonymous text, open to anyone
Action: SS Red Fish cargo hold, open to crewmates or visitors
When: Sometime after this little exchange

(OOC: warning for self-destructive and suicidal content.)

→ text
[he's made sure to keep this message anonymous, but that might be the only thought he puts solidly forward before he begins typing. after that, it's like the words are appearing on the screen on their own accord--fast and clumsy--and he's only watching.]

what hapepns at home if we die here will they even know oe maybe it will be like we never existed maybe we go back

→ action
[Coil wouldn't still be on the ship if he'd been able to help it. but the Red Fish is in orbit, and he still refuses to set foot in the shuttles. so, he's stuck in this little metal box, holed up in a dark corner of the cargo hold because he can't stand the sight of his own room. there, tucked amongst the alcove-shapes of big, empty containers, it's quiet and familiar. he'd had an important argument there, once. it's right where the previous captain liked to sit or sleep when he couldn't stand the confines of his own room either.

like an abandoned dog, Coil is lingering at the last spot that had made sense--as if staying there long enough might make something change, and the life he remembers best will inexplicably come right back. maybe something will happen there, and he will be taken away.

aside from quiet, stressed breathing, he's not making any noise. he's deep inside his own head, sunk somewhere that aches so bad he can't stand it, and he has been there for a while. he doesn't know how long he's been sitting there, staring at the small, beautiful white knife resting in front of him, but he has lost feeling in his limbs. curled up and squeezing his knees to his chest, tears are leaking over the dried tracks of those that have fallen before them, as the war rages on. the pros and cons, furies and fears, all clamor back and forth inside of him while he mentally screams at himself to reach out and make it stop.

just pick it up; easy as breathing.]

thespaceopera

[The night has finally come--the Gravity Rush is nearly upon us! What normally serves as a large performance hall has been gutted, emptied of its boring furniture and rigged up into a fantastical mismatch of technology and old culture. No matter where you go tonight, you're encouraged to move around, dance, play games, whatever helps you sleep in late tomorrow morning.

If you aren't one for scurrying around a ballroom all night, there's always plenty of people-watching to do. After all, so many people are wearing extravagant costumes and elaborate masks. How can you even tell who is who? Get lost in a crowd of sequins, chatter with a sun and a moon, or try to beat the guy in the monster-mask at a game of cards. Meet your friends or make some new ones--this masquerade party has begun!]

[[ooc: All sections are up now, have fun! A related ooc post is HERE for any questions or plotting you'd like to do.]]

heavenonearth

Who: Castiel & You Poor Unfortunate Souls
Broadcast: Fleetwide
Action: Waystation
When: Todayish..?? From like the 19th through the 21st. Text post is on the 22nd. Also a warning that this post contains drug use/references, cursing, and potential Unhappy Talk about painful subjects/depression what have you.

( action under the cut for drug nonsense! )

So tell me, what do you guys do for a bad hangover, eh? Gotta be some homespun remedies we've got access to, right? These protein solids really aren't doing the trick.

namisan

Who: Anyone!
Broadcast: Fleetwide!
Action: The Iskaulit
When: Broadcast 12th / Action anywhere from 3rd -12th probably

[In light of certain updates from certain hunters, Nami is trying really, really hard not to take her impressive temper out on the person who's effectively her roommate on the Bloodsport. But being angry and trying to convince yourself not to lash out at someone you think may deserve it but might not so let's be nice about it doesn't really help your mood any. Nami doesn't want to lay into Cas. So Nami avoids Cas. Just for a little while. Because she respects their friendship enough not to damage it in a fit of anger, but also because she thinks trying to punch an angel might be bad for her hand. You know.

So Nami is avoiding the Bloodsport. Which isn't that hard when you've somehow found yourself working at both bars on the Iskaulit. She pulls all the extra shifts she can, keeps busy, works her temper off in fits and starts, and devotes some of her extra time to visiting the gardens to see how her mikan saplings are going, and generally explores what the Iskaulit has to offer.

Really, you can find her drinking at a bar, behind a bar, or anywhere else on the ship. Pick your poison.]

-----

[Today she's not working but lurking at the bar anyway, picking away at snacks and going through her comm and trying to find ways to waste time. So. Lucky network, have a bored navigator.]

Paradisa. Adstringendum. Luceti. [Kyriakos, she nearly adds, but nobody's officially given her that one.] They're all fun places, so I hear. Are there others? I'm curious to see if they have anything in common.

....

...has anyone ever died on the Fleet?

And I guess if that's too morbid for you: pirates or ninjas?

[...Nami. Either be serious or don't. Or-- have another drink. That works.]

planmade

Who: Mihael "Mello" Keehl & open.
Broadcast: Fleetwide.
Action: Marsiva. Hospitality deck.
When: Current.

( i accidentally tl;dred by default... )

Disregard any messages from another I.D. of someone with my name and face.

And you. You'll talk to me.

theirinurpants

Who: Alistair and YOU?!
Broadcast: Fleetwide; mostly accidental.
Action: On the Marsiva!
When: Now? Now. Sure, now.

Teagan? Teagan! [ The man on the camera is young, handsome, and looking a bit put out to be where he is. This isn't his castle! What is this place? He's also sort of looking away from the screen, not fully aware he's broadcasting. He mostly thinks he's talking to himself. ]

Okay, hah hah, very funny, you've had your joke, now where are you? And where am I? I'm sure I've got a very important meeting with someone who will be very angry when I don't show up - not that I care much if I'm making the Orlesians angry, it's sort of funny when their faces get all red and they start trying not to swear, but still...

Have I been kidnapped? Has someone kidnapped me? I'm pretty sure kidnapping the king is treason. I can have your head for that. [ He doesn't sound so much angry as... vaguely confused and disoriented. ] Off with your head. Whenever I figure out who you are, I suppose.

mortalcoil

Who: Coil Lenn
Broadcast: Text (and not anonymous, for once)
Action: Iskaulit, in the gym
When: Morning

[it is a rare day indeed that Coil sends out a message with his identification attached to it, but he figures it's probably hard to convince someone to fight with you when they don't know who's asking. and he takes time to write the thing up properly, like putting an ad in the paper.]

Looking for sparring partner-- hand-to-hand or melee weapons. Experienced combatants only. Iskaulit Gym.

[and he just tosses the communicator off to the side for a bit, after that. he'll return to check his messages after he's beaten the shit out of a sandbag for a while.

and whether or not they've caught his message, anyone can find him haunting the gym--either moping around like he doesn't know why he's there, or whirling a quarterstaff around and clobbering a sandbag with single-minded focus. just a combat-oriented teenager in a bad mood.]

(ooc: and for anyone who isn't really into tagging fight threads, but still wants to spar with him, we can handwave or gloss over some things.)

heavenonearth

Who: Castiel (the cool one),
Broadcast: Fleetwide.
Action: The Marsiva
When: January 20th, late morning.

[ waking up confused isn't necessarily anything particularly new for castiel, but generally speaking in that case he's usually hungover, and when the fog clears he's in his bed, somewhere safe and familiar, not somewhere, well - like this. immediately he's alert and awake, feeling under his pillow for a knife that isn't there, sharp, instinctual panic burgeoning in his gut, but he controls it. you better bet he's got no idea he's being watched, too.

it's peaceful. this place reminds him of heaven, with its clean, sleek design and cool, quiet atmosphere, but he doesn't trust it any more than he trusts heaven. tense and wary, one hand flies immediately to his throat, then he's pulling it back to look at is as if he's expecting to see something there, but it's clean, and when he tugs up his shirt there's no blood there either, no bullet holes, no gaping wounds, only the same old scars. castiel stands, runs both hands through his unkempt hair, and eases in a steadying breath. he's a rangy looking thing, with a lean, hungry look about him, overgrown scruff and hair but hey - at least he's clean. cleaner than he's been in a long while. and someone did him the service of mending the long worn holes in his jeans and canvas jacket so that's.. nice. i guess.

all right, inventory first. his knife and handgun are both missing, naturally, but that doesn't mean he has to be happy about it. sitting again on the edge of his bunk, in his pockets he finds a mostly full pack of cigarettes with two joints stuffed in with them, a blue plastic bic lighter, a half bottle of pills, a two month old supply list, creased and folded, and a bottlecap. not too much of use when it comes to keeping yourself alive. exhaling in a puff of air, he stuffs it all back into his pockets, even the list and the bottlecap, and gets to his feet again. might as well pick around, right?

and by pick around i mean find the cafeteria almost instantly and gawp in awe at all of the food. ]

.. you're kidding me.

[ when you live in a world where things like toilet paper are scarce treasures, you really learn to appreciate food. there is zero hesitation before cas is all but diving at it like a man starved, picking at everything indiscriminately, eating and drinking and eating some more. he doesn't sit, only hovers near the counters like a buzzard over roadkill, and you'd better bet he's filling his pockets, too, with everything and anything he can fit.

all right, so maybe this isn't so bad. he should probably be wary of the food and all, but it's far too late for that. feel free to stumble across him/interrupt him at any point, he has no idea he's on candid camera. ]

arcanepower

Who: Belthazar and you
Broadcast: Yes
Action: On the Bishop!
When: Backdated to Sunday the 17th

[video;]

[Belthazar scribbles something in his journal with a quill pen, unaware that the camera is on.]

Another year passes, and I am still no closer to the answers I need.

[He sighs and leans his head back to stare up at the ceiling. The rest of him deflates against the chair, arms hanging down at his sides. He is really very slight and skinny even if wearing black tends to make him look more adult.

After a moment, he begins to quietly hum a gently lullaby that might be familiar to some.]

[action;]

[Anyone visiting the kitchen will find a boy eating a sweet berry pie of some kind, warm and gently glazed and delicious. Belthazar isn't really the type to announce his birthday or go all out for himself. He could make a six tier cake like he did for Ino that one time, but... no. Too much effort. He'd rather just have some comfort food.

There appears to be enough pie to go around, though, regardless. Food tastes better with friends even if he would rather not admit it.]

pompous_today

Who: Simon Tam and you
Broadcast: Fleetwide
Action: Bloodsport, if you want
When: Right now

[It had been a while since Simon had addressed the network, but he felt like it was important. He realized when the planet visit had come around how little he'd actually been interacting with people since River left, and it was taking its toll on him.

Time to fix that.]

Ah- hello to everyone, especially our many newer arrivals. I have been quiet lately, but I figured it was time to introduce myself- I'm Simon Tam, medical officer on the Bloodsport. I... [He hesitated.] I've been keeping to myself a lot over the past few months, and I'm wanting to change that. I would like to learn something new- how to garden so I can help grow medical plants on the Iskaulit, perhaps. I would also be up for brushing up on my self-defense skills, since I am quite rusty at best. And if anybody has any other suggestions, I am willing to listen.

Thank you.

THE DRIFT FLEET

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Entries tagged with syeira

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