Aalakrys

A Firefly Tale

Wakey Wakey Part 2

Lunar Veil | Medbay

Summary

Kinneas wakes up on the Lunar Veil. This should go over well.

OOC: JP between @MK Blitzen, @Aalakrys

“I don’t so much think you’re cargo as you are saved,” she said thoughtfully. “From Interpol, I mean, not like in the religious sorta way. Unless you’re the religious sort, maybe you found religion when you got hit on the head, which is fine, Jago - he’s the Captain, he’s not so much religious. I mean, he loses his religion if he stubs his toe on the leg of a table or when things go to hell in a handbasket. Besides, the cabins are much nicer than the cargo bay, and Tim set one up for you right proper. Oh, right! The ship’s name is the Lunar Veil. Pretty isn’t it? I didn’t name it. I’m Serena.” She jerked a thumb towards herself for emphasis. “I didn’t name me either.”

Saved from Interpol? That was interesting, though only a matter of time, maybe. Something to think about later. The girl's returned stream of consciousness was useful. He recognized the name and remembered the phoney negotiator. Learning the ship's name told him nothing - maybe a good sign, seeing how their best sniper was a bad shot. "Most of us don't get to choose our name, you're right. Say, Serena, why would you have a cause to save me, a perfect stranger by all rights, from Interpol?"

Serena shrugged her shoulders up to her ears and then back down. “On account of Jago said to. He’s the captain. I know I just said that, but sometimes when people get hit on the head they have trouble trying to remember things. Plus, there’s more of us to remember than there are of you. You want me to go find the doc for you?”

"Sure, just one more thing." Kinneas played up the card she handed him, not sure it'd work since he'd taken her of no consequence once already. "You said something about a brother when we met before, right? Is he the pilot or doctor?"

“My onii!” Serena said happily, scooting closer with the rolling stool. “He’s not neither. Tim’s the pilot, and Doctor Prichard is the doc. My onii is just my onii. His name’s Vas. You’ll like him, on account of he was the religious sort too. Ish. Kind of. You never gave me your name in return though, but it’s okay. Like I said, sometimes folk have trouble remembering things like that if they get hit on the head. I’m Serena,” she prompted, placing a hand on her chest. “What do you like to be called?”

If this was happening to someone else, he would have found it amusing. As it was, he managed to keep a straight face without much effort. Figuring the girl knew his name, given her captain had ordered her - and likely the rest of the crew - to "save" him, he decided to go with the lie and feign a moment of thought as a final attempt at prying. "I… know my name is Kinneas, but can't for the life of me recall why Interpol would be after me."

“That’s what they called you on the news feed.” Serena agreed. “Sometimes people don’t like to be called what they were named. Like the doc - her first name is Enid, but she doesn’t like to be called it, and since she’s in charge of all things sharp and stabby, I call her doc. And Tim, his name’s Tim-o-thy, but no one calls him that, just Tim. I think Interpols were after you on account of they said you blew up the mine at Cold Creek.”

"I… blew up that mine?" Kinneas' head swam with that news, maybe with the help of the new head wound. But he shook his head in what might have looked like denial. "Whoever theyare that's saying that is mistaken."

A Firefly Tale

Enemy Mine Part 7

Silverhold | Barnett Silver Mines

Summary

Jagos crew goes in with a plan, what could go wrong.

OOC: JP between @Winters, @MK Blitzen, @Yule, @Aalakrys

“I was thinking butter,” Serena added. “My friend gets his head stuck in a lotta things, and he swears by butter.”

“Not much of that around here… but oil.” Kinneas pointed to the lantern hanging on the wall, not quite sure what that said about the girl’s friend. “Just, don’t catch him on fire?”

"Fēi tā mā de are you even PUSHING!" A voice complained from the other side of the window.

“I was tryin’ to not get him caught on fire!” Serena explained, turning back to Kinneas. “That’s my onii.” Vas Timothy Reed. Ugh, no, no, no, not after Tim. “He’s in a hurry.”

“Uh-huh,” Kinneas said as he knelt down to unzip the bag he placed along the floor, half-listening when the girl spoke to him again. From it, he extracted the case and set to work assembling his rifle in the safety of the trailer.

Barnet had stepped on Serena’s head for leverage to get himself out the window, leaving her alone in the trailer with Reed as he put together a rifle. She searched her brain for something to start a conversation that would make her sound mature when the sound of revving engines caught her attention, as well as the distinct sound of something being launched through a tube.

“Onii?” Serena asked as a small cylinder flew in through the open window. It immediately hissed like a snake, releasing an obnoxious smelling gas that made her eyes water. The teen quickly pulled a rebreather from her pack and pulled it over her face like they’d practiced.

Barnet landed right on top of Vas who was cursing up a storm. He slid his on just in case. "Don't. Move." Vas ordered Barnet before hauling himself up to see into the trailer. "What are you waiting for a freaking invitation." He said to Serena as the room quickly filled with some kind of gas. Vas wasn't planning on hanging around to figure it out.

Shouts from the miners could be heard throughout the camp as the Interpol agents crashed the proverbial party, firing tear gas and pepper balls. Serena panicked. There was no time for coercing Kinneas to the ship, and if she left him, Interpol would string him up, no questions asked. As her tall future husband headed for the trailer door, a two by four would render him unconscious. The teen’s face, shrouded in a rebreather was the last thing he’d see before the world went black.

A Firefly Tale

Enemy Mine Part 1

Silverhold | Barnett Silver Mines

Summary

Kinneas tries to keep heads cool and reasonable.

OOC: JP between @Winters, @MK Blitzen,@Aalakrys
The miners had all but taken over the Black Burrow Silver Mines camp. It was as dusty here as it was in town but you couldn’t really escape it. The Camp was not a rinky-dink operation. There was a building for storage of various equipment, fuel, and repair. Some amenities included a basic shower and latrines. It was all made of wood which added more to that rustic feel or the fact that like most Mining companies out in the Rim only wanted to invest so much.

It was just past noon and while the day was warm and the wind was picking up. The miners were all sitting in groups by fires divided into various camps of thought. Morale was getting low.

Gideon Barnett sat next to a low burning fire by himself idly nibbling on a dry, brown roll that passed for bread here. He was a man who was entirely out of place in this picture. He was dressed in nice if not slightly rumpled clothes, with a neat bowler hat and a meticulously trimmed mustache. He was young but thin, clearly far more used to being behind a desk as opposed to being on-site. The sad fact was his ‘Kidnapping’ had been entirely accidental with was mostly running in the wrong direction when the riot broke out. It was then he had been grabbed and dragged bringing him to his current situation. Watching a group of very large, hairy, slightly smelly men arguing what to do with him.

“Ah say we cut off a thumb and send it out to show’um we mean business!” Retorted one snaggle-toothed man, coming to a stand as if to emphasize his point.

"Pipe down. Also, the hell is wrong with you? Chopping off a man's parts all willy nilly!" Another miner argued.

"Even if you did, no one here knows how to stop the bleeding, just saying, it might do more harm than good." Another shrugged.

“Then they’d hurry to meet our demands - give’um a sense of urgency.” The pro-thumb cutter grumbled but didn’t press the issue as he crossed his arms and sat back down.

"I can't believe this is even a conversation." Drawled someone from the back.

"I prefer to keep my thumbs. Please?" Gideon piped up.

“Thumb-losin’ could do ya some good - give ya some character,” Snaggle-tooth said, the line between sincerity and joking not quite evident. “More’en your privileged mustache wax an’ fancy little hat.”

“Let’s stop hassling the man about his image and focus on what your actual goal of capturing him entailed.” Kinneas Reed sounded as exasperated as the man leaning against the crate beside him. He’d been listening to this nonsense that was going nowhere for about an hour and was the point of bridge pinching. When he released the hold and looked up at the men who’d all turned their attention to him, which still weirded him out, he wondered once again how he got into this mess. “Anyone? Rational reason or was it a heat of the moment thing?”

“We need him,” one of the men in the back replied as he stepped forward. “For leverage. They won’t do anything to any of us while we got him trussed up.”

"Ok," Kinneas brought his hands together as if this may actually be leading to something, falling short of an actual clap to stop himself from sighing as he dropped the gesture to push off the crate. He dusted off his pants more out of habit than anything else as he stopped his stride before the spokesperson. "And, so that means this is an important man. Who is he? Do you know?"

“Barnet,” the man replied. “Office big wig. Gets paid more than a bunch of us combined.”

“Uh-huh…” Kinneas said with a rub to his jaw. “Though they pay him more, I can say from experience that he is just as expendable. Sorry, man.”

The last was said to the captive with a glance and shrug, simple truth. Gideon gave an ambivalent shrug of his shoulders.

“We’ve got to look at a few facts here. They’re broadcasting this demonstration as a riot rather than a strategic, stand-in strike.” Kinneas didn’t bother riling them up by pointing out that was their fault. “They’re saying people are dead, and now you have a hostage. Now you’ve got the silver of this supplier on hold and have lost public sympathy. That won’t end well, so… aside from cutting this poor sap’s thumb off and fully committing to both feet in the grave, do we have any other options?”

"We can stand our ground. If we don't it's back down to the mines and that's after they may fire off anyone they seem 'bad apples'." The one miner said standing up.

Safe to say this whole bunch is spoiled… Kinneas wasn't quite sure there was anything he could accomplish with this group. There was not much question that all the men here were prepared to fight, it was their ability to actually win that had the sniper wanting to prevent the undoubted massacre.

“And if they don't even bother sending in troops to stand against?" Kinneas asked with a lifted brow. "They could just wipe the slate and start over unless you start some communication - that doesn't involve dismemberment."

“Pretty boy is right,” Martín Reyes agreed, once again stepping forward. “The only way they’re going to listen is if we have Barnet - in-tact. We been telling them for months that the mines structurally ain’t sound no more. They had a cave in not six months ago up in Cobb’s Creek, lost 11 good men. I don’t think we’re looking for anything unreasonable. Send in an inspector - a real inspector, not no one’s mother’s cousin’s brother-in-law twice removed getting a fat cat salary. Every day we go down that mine it’s a crapshoot to whether we’re coming back up or not, and now that Mulligan bought up Wellspring and Nordic Ventures, they don’t even pay us a living wage.”

There were a few grumbled agreements all around. At the usual haunts, Kinneas had heard these things, which is likely how his sympathies led him here. Being addressed as ‘pretty boy’ hadn’t phased him this time either, especially since he was glad someone else was taking the lead in crowd control and progress was being made in a decent, non-fatalistic way.

“That sounds like a reasonable demand.” Kinneas nodded along. “Anyone writing this down? Start a list, yeah?”

“I’ve got it,” Someone else replied, settling down with a clipboard and yellow pencil.

A Firefly Tale

Innocent Until Proven Guilty?

Silverhold Docks

Summary

Kinneas returns to Silverhold after a job completed and money lavishly spent to recoup before taking on another job, but his plan may get upended

---

When Kinneas first was cast out to the border planet of Silverhold, he could never quite understand how the people could be content to live in such a way when places like Osirius, Bellerophon, or even Persephone existed in White Sun. They weren’t the most luxurious - no. He’d been at the center of high society - lived it to the fullest. People like the dungaree-clad men or modestly dressed women of Silverhold… he nearly felt sorry for them. Not for the fact that they lived such simple lives without the benefit of advanced technology just a ship ride away, but the majority of them fancied themselves pioneers. This was their land, their blood and sweat went into the mines they harvested ore from. They’d gripe about conditions, commiserate with each other over the way the Alliance eyed and nickeled and dimed them, but this was their planet. Didn’t matter the invisible hands that actually held paperwork owning the mines they worked with exploited the people who worked them.

In his short time as an overseer of his… of the Revas-owned mines, Kinneas had come to listen to conversations between the men. Started participating in them. Got ideas of his own, but he didn’t share them. At least, he hadn’t until he started drinking with some of the men after end of shift. It was how he got on with a band of mercenaries that led him to finding more profitable work. And also how he found himself in the mess that awaited him when he returned home from his last jaunt off world.

It all started with a jostle to his shoulder as he made his way through the space port. Since it certainly wasn’t the Space Bazaar, he hadn’t been expecting the bump so his top-load canvas duffle slipped slightly from his shoulder as he glanced to see the offender. The local sheriff - a robust man filled with a sense of self-importance fueled by corruption and his cozy seat in the Alliance’s back pocket: Sheriff Jethro Perkins.

“See you made your way back here, Reed.” He clucked his teeth as he looked up. Most people had to look up to meet Kinneas’ gaze, and it was likely another thing that had set them off on the wrong foot. Another being his blatant disregard for the man’s authority.

“You know me, Sheriff. Can’t stay away from the tap house in town.” Kinneas’ eyes glinted as his lips twitched and he hefted the bag back up fully on his shoulder.

“Yeah, I know.” The man grunted. Kinneas was well-known by the locals of the Silverhold Colonies in the area thanks to some tavern tales. “Mark my words, Reed - this is your last warning. Keep out of stuff that don’t concern you none.”

“Hate to have to ask this, but want to make sure I’m towing the line and all.. wouldn’t I be the one to decide what concerns me?” Kinneas asked without a hint of his beguiling flash of a smile, instead sporting an earnest seeking expression, almost of concern. Then it faded as he waved a hand the moment the sheriff blustered, giving out a sigh and went into a blasé dismissal. “I know, it’s because I’m not a native and can’t understand that blind obedience for the sake of what is, is what’s what, and what will always be. We’ll say your words are marked and noted, so I’m free to go about my way and make merry before heading off to my hovel.”

“We’ll see you have a cell before long.” Maybe he wasn’t meant to hear it, but that was unlikely. Sheriff Perkins had grumbled it, sure, but he hadn’t lowered his voice too much as Kinneas turned to walk away seemingly without a concern.

A Firefly Tale

Peace Be Your Journey

Greenleaf / The Black

Late Afternoon

Sending a wave

Cyd sat propped up on the cot, with another clove cigarette clenched between the first two fingers of her right hand, while her left hand idly tapped at the virtual keys splayed out on the blanket. She had a block of ice in the pit of her stomach that even the cigarette couldn’t warm up. She stared at the PREN, and took a long drag from the cigarette, the warm spices tickling her nose. Now or never, she lamented, pressing the key to dial, sending the wave. She practiced in her head what she would say, how she would ask, playing out the conversation with as many scenarios as she could image. Of course, that all went to waste the second she heard the male voice, her mind suddenly turning as blank as a sheet of paper from a brand new notebook. Cyd near choked on the clove cigarette, not exactly the opening she had in mind.

Rowan Randell was in the middle of what he felt was a very compelling and rational point about why he should stay home from work when his PREN chimed. His daughter, who was his combatant in this matter, had turned to look in the direction of the device that was no longer buried under discarded clothing and other miscellaneous belongings of his. Now that Penelope had returned home, Elias - his neighbor and newly close friend - had someone to continue the good fight while he was away at work. Fighting wasn’t exactly the right word, Rowan mused, as he moved to pick up the little thing expecting to see one of his other wayward children. Instead, he found himself looking at a blue-haired young woman, the surprise in his gentle cadence evident only in the slight hesitation of his greeting. “Hi, there. Mistake connect?”

Just as he asked, his genuine good nature in place in the smile he wore, something tickled at his mind as he looked at the young woman. Penelope distracted him only by her movement towards the kitchen, getting a brief glance from him.

“No, uh, no … Aweh,” Cyd said, less then smoothly, a flicker of recognition making her turn her head slightly. “I was looking for Pen? Penelope Randall?” This was far from the “Pen, please,” statement she had scripted in her head.

“Oh, sure, let me get her.” His voice brightened at the comment, happy to have that option now most likely. She’d been gone so long that the feeling left him giddy as he sat the PREN down. It left a sideways view of the neat living area while Rowan spoke to his daughter in the adjoining room, his voice trailing away. “Pen-nut, the wave was for you – what are you doing?”

“Elias said to make sure you took dinner with you, so I’m fixin’ it.” Her response could be heard, not far off. “I’ll finish it here in a minute, I reckon.”

Penelope left her father alone in the kitchen, glanced across the island that divided the living area from it and caught him nibbling. She was smiling over at him as she lifted the PREN. “That’s supposed’a be your dinner.”

Cyd couldn’t help but smile. The former pilot seemed to be taking to homelife, and it made her happy - genuinely happy - for her. From the small interaction, the raver knew Pen made the right decision.

Really, she hadn’t known who could’ve been sending her a wave through her father’s device. There was a brief consideration of her old crew, but she hadn’t been with them that long at all to warrant a goodbye call. Who it actually was, she was delighted to see. “What a pleasant surprise. Hi, Cyd, how’s things going?”

Cyd’s smile brightened. “Lekker, actually, big changes, change of scenery.” She said, dabbing the cigarette out against the hull. “What about you? Sibs and I miss you already but things going good with your father, aweh? Sounds like you're happy?”

“It is, and I am.” The smile that spread across Penelope’s face radiated the warmth of her voice that shifted to gratitude as she spoke on. “I figure I owe a big part of that to you. Did you make it out to see the waterfalls?”

“Ja, nee, no,” Cyd said with a shake of her head, holding up the bottle. “The ship decided to stay in port for a while longer, and we’d already signed for our next job, oweh? Big shindig, lots of staff issues, and it didn’t seem right to reneg the contract. Besides,” she flipped the bottle over to read the co-ordinates again. “The ship had bad juju for us, ‘specially with the one person worth stayin’ for gone.”

Penelope tilted her head slightly at hearing her old ship hadn’t departed, taking a seat on the sofa she was standing before so she could sit the PREN down on the tabletop. As she did so, she propped her chin against a palm as the other arm lay across her knees as she leaned down to stay in frame. Her concern that it had been her leaving them stranded without a pilot was only brief, as she remembered the captain saying he could handle the job but preferred someone else to do it. Besides, Cyd’s following comment got a twitch from her lips as warmth replaced the worry in her eyes. “Reckon it’s a good thing they ain’t goin’ nowhere. Just means we’ll hav’ta see them next time you’re here… Your next job in Osirius?”

Cyd nodded in response. It wasn’t, not that she could say that, but it dididn’t feel right to outright lie. “You know the sibs. We move around a lot, see the verse and all,” She paused for a moment, looking down at the pretty bottle before back to Pen. “Besides, we have to come back to Greenleaf. Maybe you’ll take me to the waterfall yourself, oweh?”

If the vagueness of Cyd’s answer regarding where she was next headed bothered Penelope, it hadn’t shown on her face. The Skye siblings may have warmed up to her a little in their short time together, but they were beholden to her in the way of their secrets or anything else. The pilot understood not everyone would - or could - be forthright, and it didn’t bother her none. Instead, she had been content at the fact Cyd had contacted her at all and that was good enough for her. The notion of her return to Greenleaf brought back at that full smile of hers as she said, “Reckon that means I’ll have to scrounge up a pair of gliders – or, a set?”

The lift of her eyebrow with the question had her cheer dim appropriately as she asked if it would be just the two of them, or the entire band. The original trip had been for the siblings as a way of thanks, and she wouldn’t take it back for her own selfish gain. That just wasn’t who she was, so the question was genuine as the earnest puzzling that started to factor as she considered the best place to find the gliders nowadays.

“Just two,” Cyd replied slyly with a chuckle. “The boys most likely will be just fine on their own for one night. Mathias will be anyway. We bring Isaac, he’s bound to get his big head stuck in something, that’s a fact like a cow.” Cyd looked to the bottle again. “But until then, maybe we can touch base, keep in touch? I want to hear all about the amazing things you’re taking care of on Greenleaf.”

Penelope removed the fingers she pressed to her lips to keep from laughing aloud at the mention of Isaac’s predetermined fate, the idea of which had to come from some past experience. The amusement shined in her eyes though as she nodded. “I’d like that, Cyd, so long as you swap some stories of your own. I can’t imagine Greenleaf would be as int’restin’.”

“Depends, I happen to know someone intr’estin’ on Greenleaf,” Cyd replied, tilting her head slightly as she set the bottle down. She raised her eyebrows and a soft smile settled on her lips.“Someone I’m interested in hearing about, interested in maybe gettin’ to know better, aweh?”

"Reckon I'd like that, too." Penelope said with a shade more soft as a hint of color rosed her cheeks. She tapped a finger against one and played at consideration to cover the slight blush, her eyes roaming to see her father leaning against the counter. He lifted his eyebrows and turns suddenly, as if just remembering her had something to do as she carried on the act. "Means I'll have to find somethin' to get into to tell ya about - and maybe my own wave link."

That was said with a slight eye roll as her gaze returned to the screen and her smile spread once more. "Peace be your journey?"

Cyd returned the smile, a genuine gesture, not the one used for busking or flirting, or giggling at a sib’s silliness, but the kind that started as a warmth in your chest and spread. “Peace be your journey, til we meet again.” Cyd closed the link and folded her hands, fingers interlaced behind her bed, and leaned back on the pillow. She pictured the pilot’s bright hazel eyes and pretty face, the soft feel of her lips when they shared a kiss at the rave. Cyd never was the sort to dwell on what could have been, but just for a little, she’d let her mind wonder. “Til we meet again,” she repeated.

When the image of Cyd flicked off the screen, Penelope sat a moment after seemingly in her own reverie. Her father cleared his throat from the perch at the counter, drawing her eye. He puffed up straighter. "Does this mean I finally get to enact my fatherly intimidation duties?"

"I think so." She laughed in mix glee and amusement as she fell back against the couch, getting her father's smile in return. He was happy for his daughter's delight, always. At least this Cyd had already proven she'd protect his girl if the bruising on face was anything to show for it, and that was fine by him.

A Firefly Tale

Kinneas Reed

______________________________________ ______________________________________ "Got creds, will travel - on your creds. Half down." Theme Song ______________________________________

______________________________________ N A M E : Kinneas Reed G E N D E R : Male A G E : 32 O C C U P A T I O N : Mercenary, sniper A P P E A R A N C E : Dark blonde sun-streaked long wavy hair, blue eyes, light beard, 6’7”; typically wears large, loose tees with form fitting jeans and black boots - always with his leather riding-style black jacket w/ hood (weather dependent) H O M E P L A N E T : Pelorum, Aphrodite - some Bellerophon; Valentine; Silverhold S K I L L S E T : Comes from Money: Schmoozing (begrudgingly), Observation/Recon/Research, Long-range Combat, Tactical (socially and professionally) E Q U I P M E N T : sniper rifle, gun cleaning kit, camouflage duds, personal cortex, microtransmitter P E R S O N A L I T Y : Tries to remain impartial and easy-going, but can be riled up if the right buttons are pushed; has a somewhat insatiable disposition for carnal pleasures so that he will earn enough credits to spend it all on a good time rather than waste material possessions; only really serious about his work when he is on the job, but doesn’t curb his humbleness on how good he is at it; only takes on jobs against the entitled or oppressive; has a live-easy, but to the fullest; likes to put on the mask that he can’t resist a pretty face and is a sucker for praise to get people to trust him or think he is shallow; has a problem with absolute authority or anything that tells him how to act or behave - will act against it for the sake of it depending on how oppressive the adversary is in their ‘rules; sees rules more like guidelines and may or may not follow them if he disagrees; values experience over academic achievement B I O : Growing up wealthy with a home on two worlds could leave most with a sense of entitlement, and that was certainly the case with the handsome young Kinneas Revas. Born into a family firmly established in the mining wealth of the border planets, overseen at a distance, Kinneas wanted for nothing. He was shepharded from Pelorum to Aphrodite on the whims of his father’s fancy. The first rift to his overly privileged lifestyle came when he discovered his mother was actually a concubine when his actual wife was scheming to upturn her husband’s entire way of life. The agreement would be that The Child stay on Bellerophon with his mother, well kept and swept under a rug. The relationship with his father was neatly sliced away as well in that stroke of diplomacy but his teenage rebellion later made things stray back into choppy waters for them all. Kinneas was not denied the life he’d learned to live though, and grew into somewhat of a known figure in the high society of Bellerophon as a pretty face. He’d grown up handsome as his father with his mother’s fair features, and all the years of observing his father had him know how to play that card well. Bellerophon was meant to be a testing phase before he returned to his true place in society. His father’s wife caught wind of this, however, and he was shipped to Valentine as the lesser of two evils: either he and his mother would be destitute or he’d enlist in the military to teach him some much-needed discipline - and to learn his place, of course. Military life did nothing to change his disposition, however. He took an honorable discharge at the cost of his family name he used to pay for it with when he refused to fall in line - the final straw being his absolute refusal to join the Unificators, which he should have taken as an honor and privilege. Instead, he told him what he thought of their idea of honor and privilege and that was that. Unable to return to Bellerophon, he took a ship to Silverhold to oversee a mining operation - the last kindness his father could allot. While there, he found more enjoyment in time at the bars with the locals and soon fell in with some mercenaries that made more credits running jobs than he would a year at the mines. That military training had come in handy, got them out of some sticky spots. They made a pretty decent name for themselves on the border planets, his free time spent reveling in the fruits of his labor in the form of the variety of vices he once enjoyed. Life was going real nice until a job turned south, and Kinneas was the only one left. Since then, he hasn’t stuck with the same team for more than one job. Easier to maintain his lifestyle that way without getting all the pesky feelings that killed his vibe.

Kinneas' Relationship Table

Jago Deckkard	The worst conversationist I've ever met.
Tim Casey	Only sane one on the ship, and isn't half bad.
Enid Prichard	Doc's quirky, but decent.
Vas Jat	The kid - he makes it easy.
Serena Jat	A whole basket short of a picnic but keeps things interesting.
Kinneas Reed	Winning smile and great head of hair.

Folk we run into from time to time - Penelope Delphinium Randell

______________________________________ ______________________________________ "Life’s too short for bein’ wound up about nothin’ can’t a good breeze in your wings cast off." Theme Song ______________________________________

______________________________________ N A M E : Penelope Delphinium Randell G E N D E R : Female A G E : 27 O C C U P A T I O N : Pilot - currently on leave A P P E A R A N C E : A smile is never far from Penelope’s lips; she wears one easily and often. That and her boho-earthy look gives her the soft, approachable visage. Despite all her natural colorings, she is most attracted to splashes of color and will often sport trinkets reflecting that. H O M E P L A N E T : Greenleaf S K I L L S E T : Piloting: There were two things that captured Penelope’s attention as a babe in her mother’s arms: the stars in the night sky and the spread of a bird’s wings in flight. It made sense that the moment she knew those stars were within her grasp through piloting, she went for it. It started as gliders along the jungle treetops, and when her father realized her interest wasn’t fleeting, he sent her to study the trade in a safer environment. E Q U I P M E N T : Personal Encyclopedia (her dad’s at the moment), Ident Cards, a patched and stitched canvas bag that holds her crafting supplies P E R S O N A L I T Y : What you see is what you get with Penelope - for the most part. She is genuine in her countenance, and fairly transparent, but she knows just how far a sweet smile can get her before the truth is stretched into a lie. A headstrong flower-child if you ever did see one, she has the disposition to see the good in folks.Though she is easy-going and gets along with nearly anyone she comes across, she is no pushover and stands by her principles. B I O : Like most, Penelope’s life can be segmented into sections. Her youth consisted of the loss of her mother, and her older sister, Helen, taking over the role in a more free-reign hand that let the young girl ‘run wild’ in the jungle. No matter how often her sister forbade it, when she discovered that’s where her little sister was spending her free time, Penelope always found her way back in the dense thicket of trees. It was where she could see the birds and stars best. Not much major happened for the Randells while Penelope went through her academic years. Her sister hung around until the youngest siblings - the twins, Castor and Pollux - finished their own. By then, Penelope had been completing piloting school and gotten under the influence of quite the manipulative bunch. She took a job believing in a cause that was true, just not the one she was working towards. That landed her in a world of trouble. As the pilot of a ship smuggling drugs, she would have been fined substantially with jail time. As the pilot of a ship smuggling weapons to guerrilla soldiers on top of that? She was wanted dead or alive. Fortunately for her, the captain and first mate left her for dead with the rest of the crew in the jungle. Shaken, but steadfast, Penelope gathered the wits of her youth and put it to work. No one else was coming to save her. Rather than return home, she snuck aboard a cargo hauler and ‘got caught’ by the deckhand in the final preparations before breaking atmo. Exhaustion and exertion made her lies more believable given she wasn’t accustomed to that sort of thing. The captain took pity on her, and she began to work for him as another deckhand. The longer she stayed on the ship, the closer she got with the captain and so she told him her story when she learned she could trust him. For the next two years, ‘Delphi Oswren’ flew for Old Bertha under Captain O’Malley and company. She kept to herself for the most part, but the call of home and her family pulled too strongly to ignore. As Old Bertha made its last port on Persephone, she registered her real name in the manifest, ready to turn herself in so she could go home. But, no one came. So, she took another job that would eventually get her there. When she arrived, she learned she was pronounced dead and the search expired. One of the passengers aboard the Firefly she’d landed encouraged her to go home since she was lucky enough to still have a family. Penelope is currently living at home with her father.

Firefly - Second 'Verse

The Road Not Taken

Home Sweet Home

This takes place while the crew is at the bar

The release of the button at Penelope’s last words clicked loud in the silence that filled the room now that the static of the comm and Cal’s voice wasn’t taking up room. There was a bittersweet turn to her gentle smile, as she sat the handheld aside on the counter next to her. Her hazel eyes lingered on it only a moment before flickering to her father and his friend, and the moment their eyes locked that pressure she felt building against the pit of her stomach vanished.

The next morning…

On the flight deck of the China Doll, nestled in the less conspicuous place her Captain had placed her, the little black rectangular box that housed Sam now sported a hard half pit of a Greenleaf fruit. Dried and preserved in filament, it was painted with a simple silhouette of the giant kapok tree. Etched around the piece was ‘Greenleaf’ in the similar style of the shell from New Melbourne adjacent.

Sam herself had enjoyed the process as Penelope told her of the Grandfather tree as she sealed it on. It was after, when the pilot had said goodbye that the AI went back to thoughtful whirring. At the question of ‘goodbye’, just a bag was hoisted over a slender shoulder, Sam had stored the young woman’s words.

“Tell Cal that maybe he was right, and I should’a left that road not taken… but neither of us know where it goes, and I’m luckier than most to get another chance. Next time the Doll docks in Greenleaf, look me up - know ya can, Sam. I think I’ll go to roost for a while in my roots. And, I reckon I should let ya know not to worry about Hafez - I already explained it to him on the way over. Think he’s happy I’ll be stayin’ on planet a while, so he said he’ll send ya someone if ya can’t find a pilot. Best’a luck, y’all.”

And so, the message waited on the China Doll's captain when he reported back in on deck - or, if Sam was generous, after he slept the night out off. Penelope couldn't know. She was snug in the sheets of her old bed, in her old room, the contents of her bunk at the China Doll sitting in a heap to the side. She'd get to that later. It was time to enjoy being home.

Firefly - Second 'Verse

Welcome Home, Pen-nut

Greenleaf - Afternoon into Night

When You Need Me

When Penelope left the China Doll, she was feeling mighty swell. Cyd had that kind of energy that seemed to fill all the spaces an easy-going spirit like her let drift along in the breeze. It wasn’t an overwhelming sort, more like making the flight more interesting. It’d been a while since she had a friend, and it seemed like the China Doll was nothing but the start to some bonds forming.

As she neared her father’s home - her home - her thoughts turned more on the task at hand. It was the sort of pleasant weather that came after a nice rain, before the sun warmed the water to steam. The best she could hope for in her plan for the day. She enjoyed the remainder of the walk, listening to the songs of the forest birds that the city could never mute. It was good to be home.

There was a hitch to her plan, though. She discovered it the moment she found herself facing the electronic panel on the outer storage door of the little covered patio. As she worried her lip in thought, mostly about how that wasn’t there before, the door to her immediate right cracked open. Its door track’s squeal was what caused her to jump slightly, being caught out so early on wasn’t part of what she’d pictured.

But neither was the rather large dark-skinned man hulking in the frame. Her first thought was she’d somehow gotten the wrong privacy area, but all the markings making this place her family’s was there down to the dent in the door frame Castor had gotten Pollux in trouble for just alongside the man’s big hand. If it weren’t for the warm smile that spread in his gold-flecked dark eyes as his rich voice asked: “Penelope?” she might have found herself running again.

“Don’t go. Please.” The stranger must’ve sensed her flight-instincts, because he stepped back slightly into the room rather than crowd her, explaining as he did so. “I’m Elias. Rowan asked me over to watch for you. He was worried you’d come by and he would miss you because he couldn’t stay awake. From what he said, last night was… eventful.”

There was a familiarity in which the man spoke about her father that seemed warm, friendly. The hint of amusement on the tail-end made it more true to Penelope. She smiled, the nervousness tickling at her only in the way she rubbed absently at the arm she’d clutched while listening. “Reckon I have no small part in all the excitement… How is he?”

“I’d say all manner of ways, but when he finally fell asleep… hopeful.” Elias glanced back towards the closed door she knew led to her father’s bedroom, Penelope following the gaze to notice him turn a lifted brow to her. “Any particular reason you favored the storage door over this one?”

“I wanted to fix something, I reckon, and since … well, this seemed the best place to start.” She gestured by a spanning wave at the overgrowth and neglect, then frowned again at the obstacle. “But the old lock is gone.”

“The code is 1805.” Elias said after her eyes settled sadly on the space a weathered yet otherwise like-new panel sat. “I convinced your father to have it installed after a series of thefts hit the lower units.”

Penelope reached to punch in the code on the touch-pad but paused, looking at Elias with curiosity plain on her open features. “Do you live here, too?”

“Next door.” He smiled in a manner that she couldn’t discern, though she didn’t have to after all. As she went to enter the code, leaving it there for now, he went on. “Since your brothers left the nest, I have been looking after your father. As a fellow widower with grown children, I understand the need for company. And your father… he seems to let things get away from him.”

Penelope smiled. Elias had put that mildly, and they both knew it. She could tell from the smile they were now sharing. “I was going to say… the sitting area looks a lot neater than I’d expect.”

“I couldn’t help myself.” It seemed as if this were a grand admittance in the way he sighed, and Penelope couldn’t help herself in the soft laugh. “Say, would you like some company taming this part of the jungle? I’ve told Rowan I wouldn’t mind tending it, but he said it was a job for two - then went to bed. Every time.”

Penelope could imagine that conversation - her father’s avoidance going for a whirl with his distraction and exhaustion. He was not a fan of the jungle, in any form. Not since her mother had died in it. Why he had kept a ground floor flat was beyond her until she read the letter. She wondered how much of all that Elias might know. The best way to find out was to take him up on that offer. Besides, he was easy to like. Given the wrong tone, her words could have been harsh, but Penelope’s warmth shined through. “Well, since it’s a job for two, I reckon I can’t say no.”

As they worked, the heat of the sun thickened the air around them. That didn’t weigh either of their spirits down though. Penelope learned Elias was a pediatrician. He’d taken the day off without hesitation when Rowan asked for his help. There was a fastidious nature to him that conflicted with the organized chaos that was her father, but he was too steady to be bothered and she liked that about him. There were also things he didn’t have to say that she understood from the way he spoke. That her father had not done well the past few years, but convinced most people otherwise. That he had trouble sleeping, based on the mention of late night flicks and drinks. And, though she was speculating, Elias had feelings for her father.

It wasn’t until later that evening that anything would be addressed since her father still slept. They worked into early evening, just before dusk as the birds began to settle in for the night. As Penelope was rounding up the tools, she heard her name and turned to see her father standing in the doorway. Aside from the shiner, he looked put-together. His hair was damp and combed back, and his beard trimmed neatly down so it looked like a purposeful five o’clock shadow. He looked as he had two years ago, with only a little grey threatening now.

“Daddy, I … got your letter.” She said as tears touched her eyes. She was, by comparison, a wreck from the day’s labor. But that didn’t matter to Rowan since he had her in his arms in two steps. All that came after - his marveling at the drastic change to the greenspace after all their work, the revisiting her room to find it untouched, the cold shower that wasn’t onboard a spacecraft but rather in her own home, the dinner that Elias insisted on cooking to spare them Rowan’s attempt… nothing touched her as much as being wrapped in her father’s arms and her him saying: “Welcome home, Pen-nut.”

Firefly - Second 'Verse

Peace Be Your Journey Pt. 2

Greenleaf Late Morning/Early Afternoon

OOC: JP between @Aalakrys, @MK Blitzen

Second Gear

Hearing that her company had been welcome filled the free-spirited Penelope with joy, though her spreading smile turned sheepish at the mention of her venturing off on her own early enough to be pronounced a short-lived enjoyment of their time together. She rubbed absently at the back of her neck as she spoke in a more apologetic way of explanation. “My feet seem to have a habit’a carryin’ me away when left to their own devices. Weren’t nothin’ on the company. Though… I don’t much right remember most ‘cept flashes. Explains my ears ringin’ somethin’ fierce this mornin’ though. Real sorry I went a’wanderin’.”

“It was a jol,” she said with a bright smile, “Good party. Glad you got back safe and sound. So….” Cyd stared at the bottle, examining the unique markings, the container keeping her focus. “Come right back to the ship?”

"By way of jungle." Penelope gave a little shake of her head, as if the journey was second nature. "Weren't my smartest decision, I figure, bein's I was goin' on about how dangerous it is. But…"

The lightness of her tone trailed away as her brain belatedly wired connections from the flashes of memories. Her racing heart, the fractured glimpses of passing buildings she dashed by. "I was runnin' from -"

She passed that memory off as being a flight from danger, maybe away from someone who had been too handsy like Cyd had said. But, then she had gotten that letter from her father and it had filled in that missing piece. In a blink, she saw him standing on the patio just before he gave chase. "My pa. Reckon I realized where my feet carried me and I weren't ready for the destination."

She grinned, the brightness of it tempered by the sadness and regret for how everything had went. It was all too fast. But, now was the time for sorting. And this mood was no good. Cyd was being real nice to check after her and her she was bringing things down. "Speaking of, those coordinates will take ya to where the water was got. There's waterfalls, if ya still haven't gotten to see'em yet."

“That was …” Cyd started, pausing as she ran her hand over the coordinates. “Lucky,” she decided on an adjective. “With the jungle. Our tour guide was talking about quicksand and panthers and the like.” She made a mental note to keep a better eye out the next time. “Your Pa is skollies? Er… not a good man?”

The idea of her father being considered a bad man gave way to a laugh escaping her lips before she could stop it. "No, no - don't know a gentler soul than my pa."

Her smile waned sadly. "I wasn't sure I'd see him this go-around. Thought I'd have more time to figure out how to tell him I was still alive. But we'll sort it all out today. Was actually on my way to see him."

“He thought you were dead?” She asked, raising her eyebrows, “howzit?”

"Ó, yuánlái shì gùshì… (Oh, that is a story)." Pen grinned in that passive way of hers, but gave a slight shrug as she mulled over what was important about it. "Short version is that the ship I was pilotin' was reported crashed with no survivors. Don't look good on a resume, but I reckon bein' dead don't either."

Or that it was a cover-up so Hafez could pursue his own investigation after the other two survivors. But, that wasn't relevant to the question so didn't make the cut. "So far, being alive again has been pretty alright."

“Oweh,” Cyd said with a nod, trying to hide a smile. Her new cuz was a bit of a kitten off the track herself. “In that case, welcome back to the land of the living! You’ll give me the long version of that sometime, kiff?”

Penelope softly laughed at the energy of the other woman. The idea of retelling it all didn’t quite seem so daunting now that this trip back to Greenleaf had put some balm on her ails that past and uncertainty had brought on. And, like others of the crew she’d been spending some time getting to know, Cyd was luring her out of that drifting along mentality. Something about her energy, it being so opposite her own, drew her in. That curiosity needled more than her caution and wariness to get close with others had once weighed, and so there was surprisingly no hesitation to delivering the decision she’d come to with a glint to her eyes. “Only if you’ll trade me a story of your own.”

“Deal!” Cyd agreed. “It’s a fact like a cow. Maybe when we leave Greenleaf, ja nee? If you want some company while you’re flying that is. Otherwise, you’re always welcome to visit the shuttle with me and my sibs. "

The warm exuberance was well-received by the pilot. It had been a while since she had someone willing to kick about in the flight deck with her during runs. Jun’s face was a near flash in her mind, wearing much the same smile Cyd did now. It would’ve been enough to temper her mood had her brain not started puzzling out the logistics of the offer. “I surely wouldn’t mind the company up on deck, but Cap’n said only crew was allowed. Not sure where long-term shuttle renters fall, so I’ll have to check before I can officially commit.”

Penelope wasn’t quite sure, but she guessed it may have had something to do with Sam more than anything. She usually flew strictly-cargo vessels though, so maybe it was a standard rule of flyin’ folk around. A fair amount of pilots didn’t like to be pestered while doing their job, when having to be more hands on. Penelope was the sort that could go either way. As amiable as she was, she knew when to tell someone to give her room to work. At present, she was sincere in her reply in all regards.

“No skade, er… I mean, I wouldn’t want to get you in trouble. Besides! It’s not a big ship. We’re bound to run into each other. She held up the bottle and winked, not wanting to hold the pilot from her reunion. The kind gesture had taken Cyd by surprise. “I’ll make sure of it. And shot … thank you for this, it was –” She almost blurted Ubuntu, but that’s who the pilot was. The only person so far, except her sibs of course, who would get the concept, anyway. Pen made an effort to make the raver girl feel like less of an outsider. “Kiff of you,” she finished. “Peace be your journey, oweh?”

"And to you on yours." Pen grinned with a nod towards the bottle as she lifted her bundle for the wash. Coordinates to waterfalls were the least she could do for the adventurous trio that had her along for a night out. She hoped Cyd did take up the trip for the day given they'd be leaving Greenleaf come morning. Something she had to keep in mind herself given her own plans for the day. But, no matter how things shaped out, she found herself looking forward to coming back to the China Doll and the promised more time with a new friend.

Firefly - Second 'Verse

Wild at Heart, Loved by Papa. Always.

Somewhere You Feel Free

The bundle lay atop Penelope’s stripped bed, still bound in its brown parcel paper by the twine. She had notions on opening it after she deposited her sheets for washing, not wanting to sleep with leaves another night, but here she sat twirling the loose end of the string between her thumb and forefinger. If she left it, even until after they departed, she wouldn’t be tempted to go back. Only thing that had led her there was that little rainbow pill. Wasn’t it?

It wasn’t that she didn’t want to see her father. Quite the opposite, in fact. That pill had certainly lowered her inhibitions - the whole point was to keep him, Helen, and the twins safe. Hafez had kept her sole-survivor status a secret, had sent her away under a fake name to keep it that way. But she never could burn her idents. That pull to go home, to get it over with. The half-baked plan to turn herself in…

It hadn’t triggered an Alliance alert, even when she registered as pilot of the China Doll. Hafez had said he was delighted to see her, not surprised. She hummed as she puzzled, reasoning out the figuring she was doing while she twirled that little string. It slipped the knot looser just so.

All this unknown just because she hadn’t allowed herself to be curious. The fake ID Cal had made for her must’ve expunged her records for any alerts coming into Greenleaf, but something picked up her name for Hafez to not be surprised. Or, he was just being the model unflappable business minded man she knew he could present.

But what mattered now was that her father knew she was alive. Knew she was on the planet. Knew not to take Abby up on the offer to come aboard. Penelope blinked back the tears, only noticing them as they misted along her skin. Her love for her father was so incredibly overwhelming that it was painful; the release of it breaking her resolve to leave the package unopened.

My Penelope,
I can’t express in words how it felt to discover you standing on our overgrown trail last night. I don’t think I would’ve if you hadn’t run. There’s been so many nights I find myself watching the foliage, hoping you’ll come through but then remembering that is impossible. But that isn’t the case. I’m sorry I reacted on instinct and chased after you. I didn’t believe it was you. Thought I’d missed a little too much sleep or had a little too much in my nightcap. After I made it home, I couldn’t sleep without knowing. Barely did even then, once I saw you were indeed a registered pilot for a ship docked on Greenleaf. You’re alive, and that is all that matters. Before I missed my chance since I don’t know how else to contact you, I wanted to let you know that you’ll always be able to come home. Not to stay, not if you don't want - but always if you want. Look at me, I'm rambling on my sixth attempt at writing this. I know you belong somewhere you feel free, so... No questions asked until you’re ready, if you’re ever ready. Being the selfish man I am, I just want to see my little girl’s face again. Love you forever and back again, Pen-nut.
-Dad

Warmth radiated from the silent tears streaming down her cheeks, a few droplets splashing the letter and causing the ink to blur, but Penelope was smiling. Pain and happiness combated within and had her near as giddy as the drug last night. It bubbled within and she was laughing, wiping away the tears as more spilled.

Once she recovered, she looked at the items mentioned in the PS: If you don’t make it home this time, I’ve brought a few things so you can take home with you. The wrapping of all the other items was Helen’s beautiful sarong she’d accidentally burned a hole through and caught hell for, even after she patched it (unsatisfactorily) and thus used it as her bedroom curtain. It had made her laugh when she’d first seen it, before she opened the letter. Pushing it aside, the massive dreamcatcher whose core was made from the forest lay atop the photo of her with her twin brothers - all three making silly faces up at the capturing lens above as they lay with their heads together for the shot. The frame itself was a joint effort of her brothers’ - cardboard and tape. Helen had said it was an eyesore, so it fit right in with the rest of Penelope’s room, but she loved it. The final piece had been the journal of pressed flowers her mother had kept.

“Thank you, papa.” She said as she ran her hand over the stitched cover, swallowing back another bout of tears. It truly was like having her family and home right here in the room with her. He knew she wouldn’t stay if she did come home, but he did want her to have home with her where-ever she was, just like he’d said.