Messaged @FantasyChic about a collab post. I thought we might take the kitchens/servant's quarters.
Oxenfree Member
- Last Seen: 5 yrs ago
- Joined: 9 yrs ago
- Posts: 129 (0.04 / day)
- VMs: 1
-
Username history
- Oxenfree 9 yrs ago
Status
User has no status, yet
Bio
User has no bio, yet
Most Recent Posts
Grick didn't realize what was going on with the Captain at first. He had never seen this happen before, one of the aliens collapsing to the ground like this. Perhaps it was a consequence of life in two dimensions. Then he saw the distress in her eyes, and he began to plod forward at what seemed to him to be a very fast pace.
Nevertheless he failed to reach her before she hit the ground. Grick folded his arms over his chest in concern as he looked down at her, his eyes frantically scanning her body for a sign of some wound. It was... disquieting to see her in this fashion, the woman usually so in control of the situation laid low. "Friends? Friends? The Captain Ak'sel has fallen. I fear I am unaware if this is common among aliens. Is this common? I have not seen it before."
Rigger took this time to continue the debate about the crew's course of action, which Grick listened to with one hearing-hole while poking the Captain with one tendril. His arguments were good, Grick had to admit, save for his theory that the Children - the 'Freckans', as the aliens said - might be next to disappear. We are held in His dark palm. We are safe.
Captain Ak'sel awoke a moment later, and struggled to regain her footing. Grick lowered his voice and wrapped the tendrils of one of his hands awkwardly around her waist, hoisting her into the air with his prodigious strength. "Captain Ak'sel, you have fallen. Allow me to lift you," he said, almost visibly shrinking away from Rigger's accusations.
Nevertheless he failed to reach her before she hit the ground. Grick folded his arms over his chest in concern as he looked down at her, his eyes frantically scanning her body for a sign of some wound. It was... disquieting to see her in this fashion, the woman usually so in control of the situation laid low. "Friends? Friends? The Captain Ak'sel has fallen. I fear I am unaware if this is common among aliens. Is this common? I have not seen it before."
Rigger took this time to continue the debate about the crew's course of action, which Grick listened to with one hearing-hole while poking the Captain with one tendril. His arguments were good, Grick had to admit, save for his theory that the Children - the 'Freckans', as the aliens said - might be next to disappear. We are held in His dark palm. We are safe.
Captain Ak'sel awoke a moment later, and struggled to regain her footing. Grick lowered his voice and wrapped the tendrils of one of his hands awkwardly around her waist, hoisting her into the air with his prodigious strength. "Captain Ak'sel, you have fallen. Allow me to lift you," he said, almost visibly shrinking away from Rigger's accusations.
Today I finished my very last paper as a college freshman!
And man, it is a big 'ole pile of shit.
And man, it is a big 'ole pile of shit.
Grick was stunned.
He could go home. The find he had made could send everyone in the ship home. He could go back to the dark, and the quiet, back to the cold embrace of the Father. Back to the great Giftstone Forges, the shining cathedrals in the deep, the million voices raised in song... he could be one of them again. Forgiven. The scar on his forehead twinged slightly. Grick could be forgiven.
But the captain would not allow it. Instead he would stray further from his divine mission, plunge deeper into the strange dangers of space. To declare war on the council, and in all likelihood die and never return home. Captain Ak'sel would do this to him. His friend.
Paxyntrotka, meanwhile, was outlining in exhaustive detail everything wrong with the Captain's plan, and she had some good points. Grick had no desire for conflict with Council forces, and he had even less desire to see the Captain injured. What was more, it wasn't entirely clear to the Child how any of this accomplished their (apparent) goal of finding the humans; it seemed like a lot of risk for no real gain.
Haltingly, Grick raised one of his arms in the air, the other pulled over his chest in a show of nervousness. "The ways of aliens are strange to me," he began, "but I do not know what we stand to gain by falsely turning against you, Captain Ak'sel. If our aim is to buy... weapons," he paused at the word, "There is surely salvage aboard the ship we could sell? Paxyntrotka or Venbee'Retintee or another could go to buy them, and us not be troubled with this illusion." He lowered his voice considerably and looked down at the ground. "That is, if we are truly set on this course of action."
He could go home. The find he had made could send everyone in the ship home. He could go back to the dark, and the quiet, back to the cold embrace of the Father. Back to the great Giftstone Forges, the shining cathedrals in the deep, the million voices raised in song... he could be one of them again. Forgiven. The scar on his forehead twinged slightly. Grick could be forgiven.
But the captain would not allow it. Instead he would stray further from his divine mission, plunge deeper into the strange dangers of space. To declare war on the council, and in all likelihood die and never return home. Captain Ak'sel would do this to him. His friend.
Paxyntrotka, meanwhile, was outlining in exhaustive detail everything wrong with the Captain's plan, and she had some good points. Grick had no desire for conflict with Council forces, and he had even less desire to see the Captain injured. What was more, it wasn't entirely clear to the Child how any of this accomplished their (apparent) goal of finding the humans; it seemed like a lot of risk for no real gain.
Haltingly, Grick raised one of his arms in the air, the other pulled over his chest in a show of nervousness. "The ways of aliens are strange to me," he began, "but I do not know what we stand to gain by falsely turning against you, Captain Ak'sel. If our aim is to buy... weapons," he paused at the word, "There is surely salvage aboard the ship we could sell? Paxyntrotka or Venbee'Retintee or another could go to buy them, and us not be troubled with this illusion." He lowered his voice considerably and looked down at the ground. "That is, if we are truly set on this course of action."
Also, @Oxenfree, I've given your dialogue a color in my new IC post. I hope you don't mind me assigning you yellow, let me know if you want to change it! I just really liked how everyone else writes speech in character-specific colors and I thought I'd adopt the practice.
That's perfectly fine! Personally, I don't do the colored dialogue thing because I'm very colorblind and it's more hassle than it's worth, but I have no objection to anyone else rendering Gideon's speech in that hue of yellow.
Gideon plopped down in a chair and immediately propped his feet up on the table, surveying the arrivals with a grin. For Dianthe he gave a chuckle and a half-shrug. "Guilty. Though to be fair, I can think of few more important diplomatic duties than the nursing of hangovers." The young man gave a half-wave to Blair as well. "Goodness. Did some poor soul attempt to smile at you? Perish the thought."
Shortly after, Nero entered into his 'commanding officer' mode and began to lay out the mission briefing. In truth, Gideon spent the majority of the briefing staring at the ceiling, making mouth noises under his breath, and nibbling at the fruit salad Dianthe had gotten him (if the choice of meal was the result of Dianthe's playing a joke on him, the joke was on her - free food was only ever good). As a result, he only caught a few buzzwords of the mission briefing, like 'no magic', 'no weapons', 'full-scale war'. Goodness, it was going to be another one of those missions.
Finally, Nero said something that made the whole room rise up, and Gideon deduced that the briefing was over. "Right then, let's be on our way," the soldier said, rolling his shoulders. "Incidentally I'd like to remind everyone that I'm still leading in kills/knockouts by seven, so, you know, step it up for this one."
Maybe it was his Teirish blood, Gideon never felt more at home than on the deck of an airship. Up in the sky, the wind blowing through your hair, surrounded by several hundred tons of military hardware... a man could be free on an airship. There was none of the bullshit you got down below, or at least there was less of it.
But there was no time for waxing poetic. Gideon was in the box, sitting between Dianthe and Mirany, his twinblade affixed to his back. They were dropping into combat soon, a high-stakes infiltration mission, and Gideon would be lying if he said he wasn't slightly giddy. Being a diplomat with no job had its perks, but the young man missed the soldier's life; specifically the part where he got to beat people up on a regular basis.
Gideon chortled all through the safety briefing at the mention of Dianthe's 'incident' with the gauntlets. He already knew how to use them, of course: the Kingslaive versions were far more advanced than the equivalent technology used by the Airship Corps, but it was the same basic prinicipal.
At long last the door opened and Nero went plunging out. Taking only a second to pull the mask over his handsome face, Gideon was the next one out after him. Now he was falling, faster and faster and faster, and the soldier let out a loud 'whoop' as he straightened his body into a dive, only snapping his gloves at the perfect moment to maintain his speed.
Nero was already in the process of knocking out one of the knights, so Gideon tilted his fall towards the knight patrolling in the garden. He touched down directly behind the guard, who only just managed to turn around when Gideon threw an elbow into his armored face. His opponent reeled back and Gideon sprang forward, sliding across his enemy's back and smacking him across the face again. The masked soldier twisted his whole body around to kick the guard with his right leg, throwing his other leg around the man's waist and letting the momentum from his spin carry the knight to the ground, where Gideon promptly yanked his helmet off.
He brought the flat of the helmet across the man's face two times, knocking him out cold. Gideon straightened his back and began to advance towards the doors. "One."
Shortly after, Nero entered into his 'commanding officer' mode and began to lay out the mission briefing. In truth, Gideon spent the majority of the briefing staring at the ceiling, making mouth noises under his breath, and nibbling at the fruit salad Dianthe had gotten him (if the choice of meal was the result of Dianthe's playing a joke on him, the joke was on her - free food was only ever good). As a result, he only caught a few buzzwords of the mission briefing, like 'no magic', 'no weapons', 'full-scale war'. Goodness, it was going to be another one of those missions.
Finally, Nero said something that made the whole room rise up, and Gideon deduced that the briefing was over. "Right then, let's be on our way," the soldier said, rolling his shoulders. "Incidentally I'd like to remind everyone that I'm still leading in kills/knockouts by seven, so, you know, step it up for this one."
Maybe it was his Teirish blood, Gideon never felt more at home than on the deck of an airship. Up in the sky, the wind blowing through your hair, surrounded by several hundred tons of military hardware... a man could be free on an airship. There was none of the bullshit you got down below, or at least there was less of it.
But there was no time for waxing poetic. Gideon was in the box, sitting between Dianthe and Mirany, his twinblade affixed to his back. They were dropping into combat soon, a high-stakes infiltration mission, and Gideon would be lying if he said he wasn't slightly giddy. Being a diplomat with no job had its perks, but the young man missed the soldier's life; specifically the part where he got to beat people up on a regular basis.
Gideon chortled all through the safety briefing at the mention of Dianthe's 'incident' with the gauntlets. He already knew how to use them, of course: the Kingslaive versions were far more advanced than the equivalent technology used by the Airship Corps, but it was the same basic prinicipal.
At long last the door opened and Nero went plunging out. Taking only a second to pull the mask over his handsome face, Gideon was the next one out after him. Now he was falling, faster and faster and faster, and the soldier let out a loud 'whoop' as he straightened his body into a dive, only snapping his gloves at the perfect moment to maintain his speed.
Nero was already in the process of knocking out one of the knights, so Gideon tilted his fall towards the knight patrolling in the garden. He touched down directly behind the guard, who only just managed to turn around when Gideon threw an elbow into his armored face. His opponent reeled back and Gideon sprang forward, sliding across his enemy's back and smacking him across the face again. The masked soldier twisted his whole body around to kick the guard with his right leg, throwing his other leg around the man's waist and letting the momentum from his spin carry the knight to the ground, where Gideon promptly yanked his helmet off.
He brought the flat of the helmet across the man's face two times, knocking him out cold. Gideon straightened his back and began to advance towards the doors. "One."
Post up. If I spelled your character's name wrong/strangely, it's intentional; that's how Grick is pronouncing it. The poor boy is bad with other cultures.
I witness. I obey. I am a dutiful Child.
There was no light in the pressurized tank that Grick called home - he liked it that way. Apparently it was common in the ships of aliens to have a few rooms 'prepared' in the event that a crewmember needed special accommodation, and Grick lived in one such room. From the door, it looked just like any other room - inside, however, it bottomed out into a pool of dark water, with no furnishings save a waterproof bed bolted to the floor in a corner. Spartan, perhaps, but Grick did not mind it.
Sweet Father, I am blind, I am lost.
Grick was floating in the dark, his arms clasped around his body, his mind heavy with thoughts of humans. He hadn't known the relevance of what he'd found the day before, not really; he had no idea the look that would come over Captain Ak'sel's voice when he brought it to her, when it relayed its message to the two of them. In truth, the message had mattered little to him. There were all kinds of aliens out there, and Grick would be lying if he said he cared overmuch about the humans. No, what was bothering him was the reaction it had caused from the captain. He hated to be a source of distress for Ak'sel.
Grant me sight. Grant me -
Two impacts cracked into the wall, reverbrating throughout the pool and causing Grick to double up in pain. The walls of his room were shared with a hallway of the ship, and some of the inmates who wanted to mess with "The Fish" were fond of knocking against them, being well aware of his room's acoustics. It was his burden to bear.
Just then the speaker above him crackled to life and the Captain's summons played. Filled with trepidation, the Child of the Deep grabbed his mask from where it floated next to him, affixed it to his face, and pulled himself out of the water and through the doorway.
Grick lumbered towards the common room slowly, only tripping up once as the ship entered phase jump. He arrived to find several of his fellow Pickers already there, and nodded to each of them in turn in a traditional Child greeting. "Rigger. Paxyntrotka. Zeethree'fivesevenonetwo. I hail you, and pray you have been well."
At Pax's question, the Child of the Deep wiggled his hand-tentacles in a common gesture of nervousness. "I fear I may be to blame for this meeting, Paxyntrotka. I found... well, the Captain will explain."
There was no light in the pressurized tank that Grick called home - he liked it that way. Apparently it was common in the ships of aliens to have a few rooms 'prepared' in the event that a crewmember needed special accommodation, and Grick lived in one such room. From the door, it looked just like any other room - inside, however, it bottomed out into a pool of dark water, with no furnishings save a waterproof bed bolted to the floor in a corner. Spartan, perhaps, but Grick did not mind it.
Sweet Father, I am blind, I am lost.
Grick was floating in the dark, his arms clasped around his body, his mind heavy with thoughts of humans. He hadn't known the relevance of what he'd found the day before, not really; he had no idea the look that would come over Captain Ak'sel's voice when he brought it to her, when it relayed its message to the two of them. In truth, the message had mattered little to him. There were all kinds of aliens out there, and Grick would be lying if he said he cared overmuch about the humans. No, what was bothering him was the reaction it had caused from the captain. He hated to be a source of distress for Ak'sel.
Grant me sight. Grant me -
Two impacts cracked into the wall, reverbrating throughout the pool and causing Grick to double up in pain. The walls of his room were shared with a hallway of the ship, and some of the inmates who wanted to mess with "The Fish" were fond of knocking against them, being well aware of his room's acoustics. It was his burden to bear.
Just then the speaker above him crackled to life and the Captain's summons played. Filled with trepidation, the Child of the Deep grabbed his mask from where it floated next to him, affixed it to his face, and pulled himself out of the water and through the doorway.
Grick lumbered towards the common room slowly, only tripping up once as the ship entered phase jump. He arrived to find several of his fellow Pickers already there, and nodded to each of them in turn in a traditional Child greeting. "Rigger. Paxyntrotka. Zeethree'fivesevenonetwo. I hail you, and pray you have been well."
At Pax's question, the Child of the Deep wiggled his hand-tentacles in a common gesture of nervousness. "I fear I may be to blame for this meeting, Paxyntrotka. I found... well, the Captain will explain."
Ugh, the relationship section I'd typed up managed to delete itself. I'll get around to remaking it soon enough.
Oh, and @Redrum: You're pretty spot-on, except for the fact that Gideon wouldn't be likely to take Dianthe's teasing too hard. He isn't the kind of self-important that people challenging him really upsets him, he's the kind of self-important where he's so confident he doesn't mind challenges, as they don't phase him at all.
And it's interesting that in the now sadly obliterated version of my relationships page, I'd also pegged Gideon and Dianthe as getting along pretty well. Great minds think alike, I guess.
Oh, and @Redrum: You're pretty spot-on, except for the fact that Gideon wouldn't be likely to take Dianthe's teasing too hard. He isn't the kind of self-important that people challenging him really upsets him, he's the kind of self-important where he's so confident he doesn't mind challenges, as they don't phase him at all.
And it's interesting that in the now sadly obliterated version of my relationships page, I'd also pegged Gideon and Dianthe as getting along pretty well. Great minds think alike, I guess.
Would it be possible for those of us who have submitted our CS's to begin IC, and the others join in when it is convenient?
I don't mean to be impatient, but this seems like such a cool concept for an RP I'd hate for anyone to lose interest and for it to wither before it gets off the ground.
I don't mean to be impatient, but this seems like such a cool concept for an RP I'd hate for anyone to lose interest and for it to wither before it gets off the ground.
© 2007-2024