I may or may not be huddled beside a solitary campfire, racking up roaming charges on my phone while I read all your posts. I'm not sure any of my admittedly amazing coworkers has any concept of alone time. ><
Long story short, this RP is a life saver and I have all day Saturday to post to my introverted heart's content. =)
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Little Bill
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how bout now is now a good time to buy stock(s)
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Most Recent Posts
Two quick things I probably should have mentioned earlier (and maybe I did? if so, feel free to ignore this post!):
1) I'll be out of town until Saturday morning in a town small enough I'll be flying into the next state over and shuttling in to get there. I hope they have some sort of Internet availability, but I'm not sure they will, and if they do, it's a work-related event, so free time will be limited.
2) I've just taken on a part time job after work and hours have been a bit hectic! Apologies for the radio silence -- I don't think I'm keeping *too* much waiting, but feel free to PM me if I'm wrong. That said, I hope to be caught up and posting again by this weekend. Double helpings of apologies for you, Justric. I am being the least responsive of partners, I know. >__>
ANYWAY. The last few posts have been absolutely wonderful, and I can't wait to come back and binge read all you lovely people have poured heart, mind, and body into. =)
1) I'll be out of town until Saturday morning in a town small enough I'll be flying into the next state over and shuttling in to get there. I hope they have some sort of Internet availability, but I'm not sure they will, and if they do, it's a work-related event, so free time will be limited.
2) I've just taken on a part time job after work and hours have been a bit hectic! Apologies for the radio silence -- I don't think I'm keeping *too* much waiting, but feel free to PM me if I'm wrong. That said, I hope to be caught up and posting again by this weekend. Double helpings of apologies for you, Justric. I am being the least responsive of partners, I know. >__>
ANYWAY. The last few posts have been absolutely wonderful, and I can't wait to come back and binge read all you lovely people have poured heart, mind, and body into. =)
I have so much to catch up on! You people are terrific. =)
Would that I could answer all these in a calm and orderly manner, but mentions of Sandman and/or Neverwhere just get me so excited I can't do anything... =(
Lillian Thorne said
*raises hand* I just finished "Ocean at the end of the Lane" and need a new book. Is this something I should look into? Also, what do people know about Russian Fairy Tales? (for reasons)
What did you think of it? That's the new Gaiman, right? I bought it right when it first came out just because I compulsively buy books and just as compulsively never finish them. But I loved the first few pages...
For one brief and terrifying moment, Deli thought she was going to cry.
The moment passed quickly enough, leaving a strange and empty coldness in the pit of her belly, a hollow space like the breath of air that came with pulling a tablecloth out from beneath a set of dinnerware. An impressive trick, but only because disaster was so nearly avoided.
She didn't cry, of course, and hardly a second had passed before the whole thing was forgotten and Deli had leapt awkwardly over the chair to embrace Dr. Brock so enthusiastically, it was a wonder they didn't both end up on the floor.
"¿De veras? Puedo trabajar con las bombas? Wait, sorry, I mean, really?" Deli had all but forgotten about the chess game as she kneeled on the back of the heavy chair, eyes wide, curls bouncing. She didn't even really mind the Garfield bandage all that much -- though she'd told Dr. Brock, and anyone who'd listen, half a dozen times how much better Snoopy was, in every conceivable way.
"Oh, thank you, Dr. Brock! Y Muchas gracias! Merci beaucoup! Moltes gràcies... Do you know any other languages to say thank you in?"
She knew he'd laugh it off, say he hadn't done anything. But she didn't really believe that. Just like she didn't really believe he could keep Reece from grounding her if he ever found out...well, anything about her. But that was future Deli's problem. Right now Deli was jazzed and caffeinated and had another couple hours before the side effects of her eslicarbazepine laid her out, and she fully planned on getting the dimensions of the Copernernicus before sitting down to her ship cozy.
"Oh! And thank you for the coffee. And the game." It had been a good one, winning aside. She'd have to tell Abby about that, next chance she got. She still liked the other woman, and absolutely refused to begrudge her just doing her job. She'd gotten to stare into a tunnel of stars, and it was enough to keep dreaming on for now.
Without waiting for further instruction, Deli turned and began haphazardly repacking her father's chess set, distractedly babbling to poor Gavin the whole time.
"I'll still show you how to start the next time, if you want. My brother taught me a Lopez defense I figured out you could use to start the game, if you play right. It sort of looks like the Lopez open, but it traps their second rook by the end of your fourth turn, so -- " She turned back around and stumbled to her feet, still beaming and slightly breathless now. Her smile faltered for just a second, and this time, when she moved forward, it was more careful, almost respectful.
She rose with a surprising grace to stand on her toes and planted a chaste peck on one cheek before standing back again.
"Really," she said, trying to make herself sound more sincere and less overeager this time. "Thank you. In case you don't get to hear it again for a while," she added knowingly.
Then she turned to go, able to make it only a few feet before she started skipping again. Maybe she'd tell Abby how nice Gavin had been, too. She had a feeling both doctor and sergeant would appreciate that.
--
Maya watched the exchange between the eccentric handyman...and his larger, angrier counterpart for a long moment, a vaguely amused look on her face, before turning to continue down the hallway. She'd meant to peek into the hangars, though her jurisdiction down here was limited at best. She'd learned to fly small aircraft that were by now only loosely related to the mining vessels aboard the Copernicus. But then she hadn't really been looking for nostalgia of the material variety when she'd wandered down below. Things in the mining hangars seemed a bit too crowded for her tastes as it were, and her head still ached from the waking.
Maya ran a hand over her hair, errantly feeling for so much as a single strand out of place. Unsurprisingly, there were none. Satisfied, she disappeared again into the bowels of the ship, this time in aim of a cup of ruthlessly hot tea.
--
The girl, Pauline, didn't respond right away, though he'd hardly found that surprising. Young Henry Graham's answer was much quicker, and just as unassuming as could be, both of which taken together telling Park about as much as he felt he needed to know at the moment. Further details could be found in the young man's file, but Park found he learned better from speaking to a person. Those were the bits that mattered, he found so often. What a person wanted you to see, good or bad, if they could be characterized as such. Perception -- particularly of the personal variety -- came to so much more than ink ever could.
He'd had quite enough of files to have lasted him for perhaps the entire year, he thought, though he'd not yet made it through half of the Third Shift. His 'to check in on' list, however, had grown, proving his earlier theory correct. There were only two people on his list who required some clearance -- Henry Graham being one of them -- before they could fulfill their year of service, unfettered. But there were a great deal more with whom he wanted to speak, not the least of whom being Pauline. He knew, though, too, what his curiosity would buy her. He would not force her, or any of them, to come to him. Not before they were ready.
Still. For some, all it took was a gentle nudge. Leaning over his desk, Park once more entered two brief messages into his tablet. This time, the first went to Henry:
You can call me just Park, if you like, Henry. Who is they? He considered adding another reminder that his office was open, but relented. Henry was not one of the few who would need more nudging. For him, the nudging could all too quickly become pushing.
The second message was to another young man, one of the several NI-Techs with whom Park was eager to speak. Granted, a good deal of the eagerness was professional curiosity. But given his notes, and those of his predecessor, on several of the techs both from this shift and the last, it would not be so bad an idea to 'nudge' some of them, too.
Hello, Robert. I hope I haven't caught you at too hard a time, though it seems you've got quite the busy schedule for the year ahead.
The moment passed quickly enough, leaving a strange and empty coldness in the pit of her belly, a hollow space like the breath of air that came with pulling a tablecloth out from beneath a set of dinnerware. An impressive trick, but only because disaster was so nearly avoided.
She didn't cry, of course, and hardly a second had passed before the whole thing was forgotten and Deli had leapt awkwardly over the chair to embrace Dr. Brock so enthusiastically, it was a wonder they didn't both end up on the floor.
"¿De veras? Puedo trabajar con las bombas? Wait, sorry, I mean, really?" Deli had all but forgotten about the chess game as she kneeled on the back of the heavy chair, eyes wide, curls bouncing. She didn't even really mind the Garfield bandage all that much -- though she'd told Dr. Brock, and anyone who'd listen, half a dozen times how much better Snoopy was, in every conceivable way.
"Oh, thank you, Dr. Brock! Y Muchas gracias! Merci beaucoup! Moltes gràcies... Do you know any other languages to say thank you in?"
She knew he'd laugh it off, say he hadn't done anything. But she didn't really believe that. Just like she didn't really believe he could keep Reece from grounding her if he ever found out...well, anything about her. But that was future Deli's problem. Right now Deli was jazzed and caffeinated and had another couple hours before the side effects of her eslicarbazepine laid her out, and she fully planned on getting the dimensions of the Copernernicus before sitting down to her ship cozy.
"Oh! And thank you for the coffee. And the game." It had been a good one, winning aside. She'd have to tell Abby about that, next chance she got. She still liked the other woman, and absolutely refused to begrudge her just doing her job. She'd gotten to stare into a tunnel of stars, and it was enough to keep dreaming on for now.
Without waiting for further instruction, Deli turned and began haphazardly repacking her father's chess set, distractedly babbling to poor Gavin the whole time.
"I'll still show you how to start the next time, if you want. My brother taught me a Lopez defense I figured out you could use to start the game, if you play right. It sort of looks like the Lopez open, but it traps their second rook by the end of your fourth turn, so -- " She turned back around and stumbled to her feet, still beaming and slightly breathless now. Her smile faltered for just a second, and this time, when she moved forward, it was more careful, almost respectful.
She rose with a surprising grace to stand on her toes and planted a chaste peck on one cheek before standing back again.
"Really," she said, trying to make herself sound more sincere and less overeager this time. "Thank you. In case you don't get to hear it again for a while," she added knowingly.
Then she turned to go, able to make it only a few feet before she started skipping again. Maybe she'd tell Abby how nice Gavin had been, too. She had a feeling both doctor and sergeant would appreciate that.
--
Maya watched the exchange between the eccentric handyman...and his larger, angrier counterpart for a long moment, a vaguely amused look on her face, before turning to continue down the hallway. She'd meant to peek into the hangars, though her jurisdiction down here was limited at best. She'd learned to fly small aircraft that were by now only loosely related to the mining vessels aboard the Copernicus. But then she hadn't really been looking for nostalgia of the material variety when she'd wandered down below. Things in the mining hangars seemed a bit too crowded for her tastes as it were, and her head still ached from the waking.
Maya ran a hand over her hair, errantly feeling for so much as a single strand out of place. Unsurprisingly, there were none. Satisfied, she disappeared again into the bowels of the ship, this time in aim of a cup of ruthlessly hot tea.
--
The girl, Pauline, didn't respond right away, though he'd hardly found that surprising. Young Henry Graham's answer was much quicker, and just as unassuming as could be, both of which taken together telling Park about as much as he felt he needed to know at the moment. Further details could be found in the young man's file, but Park found he learned better from speaking to a person. Those were the bits that mattered, he found so often. What a person wanted you to see, good or bad, if they could be characterized as such. Perception -- particularly of the personal variety -- came to so much more than ink ever could.
He'd had quite enough of files to have lasted him for perhaps the entire year, he thought, though he'd not yet made it through half of the Third Shift. His 'to check in on' list, however, had grown, proving his earlier theory correct. There were only two people on his list who required some clearance -- Henry Graham being one of them -- before they could fulfill their year of service, unfettered. But there were a great deal more with whom he wanted to speak, not the least of whom being Pauline. He knew, though, too, what his curiosity would buy her. He would not force her, or any of them, to come to him. Not before they were ready.
Still. For some, all it took was a gentle nudge. Leaning over his desk, Park once more entered two brief messages into his tablet. This time, the first went to Henry:
You can call me just Park, if you like, Henry. Who is they? He considered adding another reminder that his office was open, but relented. Henry was not one of the few who would need more nudging. For him, the nudging could all too quickly become pushing.
The second message was to another young man, one of the several NI-Techs with whom Park was eager to speak. Granted, a good deal of the eagerness was professional curiosity. But given his notes, and those of his predecessor, on several of the techs both from this shift and the last, it would not be so bad an idea to 'nudge' some of them, too.
Hello, Robert. I hope I haven't caught you at too hard a time, though it seems you've got quite the busy schedule for the year ahead.
Still around! Working on another collab with Justric, but I'm thinking I'll wait on that one and put up a post for all three of my characters in the meantime, as to avoid forever dangling folks.
Like Heroes...sorry, Heroes! D=
Like Heroes...sorry, Heroes! D=
I think I can make this work, yes. =)
Igraine said
Lovely, thoughtful and wonderful posts, all of you. Well done with all the new questions and thoughtful twists, Justric and Kuro and Lil
Agreed! And now I want to go watch every sci-fi thriller I've ever seen...
Ivy might have yelped her surprise, but she was having trouble breathing, and she knew from a scary experience with her then-four-year-old sister Dahlia, you couldn't make a sound when you were choking.
Was she choking? It was hard to tell. She couldn't feel anything wrapped around her neck, but there was definitely a weight centered somewhere over her chest, even as she scrambled to her feet and away from the talking skeleton. The talking skeleton of a dead pirate whose name she didn't recognize, but made her shiver anyway. The thing before her was the stuff of literal nightmares, and that was without the mini-cannon she'd made. She knew precisely what it could do to her, and yet not enough at all.
But somehow, Ivy could only feel a muted sense of fascination and awe. Her eyes widened at the sight even as Jötz sidled in front of her. She hadn't so much as glanced toward the clank dogs yet. She was sure she could dismantle them, figure out who they'd been kept working after generations underwater. There would be time for that later, assuming she wasn't reduced to a pile of gory, boneless Ivy insides.
The real mystery stood not three feet away, her pistol held even in one skeletal fist, an eerie, lipless smile that might have been charming if it weren't also terrifying.
"Th-th-thank -- " she started, then stopped, because her voice had come out all husky, almost unrecognizable. She wasn't shaking, not yet, but that might have been just because she felt like she couldn't move. Even despite the fact her legs were like water.
"Thank you," she tried again, and was pleased when she sounded almost polite the second time around. "But I'm not really a pirate. The arm thing is kinda new, actually. And it was an accident. Sort of." She glanced nervously at Jötz, and then, very, very briefly, at something else, before turning her wide-eyed gaze back to Mr. Jacob Ludd. "That gun," she lifted her good hand slowly, deliberately, and pointed. "That's my friend's. I made it for him, and you took it. So...if you could give it back, or at least stop pointing it at us, we could probably discuss things like civilized people. Mama Petra would say even pirates are s'posed to have manners." She chewed her lip, thought for a moment. Wondered briefly if her heart sounded as loud to the others as it did to her.
"I can read your code," she said. "So...maybe we could make a trade."
Was she choking? It was hard to tell. She couldn't feel anything wrapped around her neck, but there was definitely a weight centered somewhere over her chest, even as she scrambled to her feet and away from the talking skeleton. The talking skeleton of a dead pirate whose name she didn't recognize, but made her shiver anyway. The thing before her was the stuff of literal nightmares, and that was without the mini-cannon she'd made. She knew precisely what it could do to her, and yet not enough at all.
But somehow, Ivy could only feel a muted sense of fascination and awe. Her eyes widened at the sight even as Jötz sidled in front of her. She hadn't so much as glanced toward the clank dogs yet. She was sure she could dismantle them, figure out who they'd been kept working after generations underwater. There would be time for that later, assuming she wasn't reduced to a pile of gory, boneless Ivy insides.
The real mystery stood not three feet away, her pistol held even in one skeletal fist, an eerie, lipless smile that might have been charming if it weren't also terrifying.
"Th-th-thank -- " she started, then stopped, because her voice had come out all husky, almost unrecognizable. She wasn't shaking, not yet, but that might have been just because she felt like she couldn't move. Even despite the fact her legs were like water.
"Thank you," she tried again, and was pleased when she sounded almost polite the second time around. "But I'm not really a pirate. The arm thing is kinda new, actually. And it was an accident. Sort of." She glanced nervously at Jötz, and then, very, very briefly, at something else, before turning her wide-eyed gaze back to Mr. Jacob Ludd. "That gun," she lifted her good hand slowly, deliberately, and pointed. "That's my friend's. I made it for him, and you took it. So...if you could give it back, or at least stop pointing it at us, we could probably discuss things like civilized people. Mama Petra would say even pirates are s'posed to have manners." She chewed her lip, thought for a moment. Wondered briefly if her heart sounded as loud to the others as it did to her.
"I can read your code," she said. "So...maybe we could make a trade."
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