Igraine Member
- Last Seen: 9 yrs ago
- Old Guild Username: Igraine
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- Igraine 11 yrs ago
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Looking forward to it Nosuchthing! And thank you Blackbeard, that was nice of you. And yes, still that Thanksgiving weekend thing here on the other side of the Pond, people here will be streaming in and out for the next couple days or so ;)
Oh my gosh, such a lovely sweet post Lil! And so very glad your Thanksgiving was survived and such, was thinking of you a great deal *hugs*
And Kuro... Oh Kuro...
Thank you for that image in my head I will never, ever EVER be able to get out of my mind's eye for many Thanksgivings to come! hahaha
And Kuro... Oh Kuro...
Thank you for that image in my head I will never, ever EVER be able to get out of my mind's eye for many Thanksgivings to come! hahahaThatOneGuy said
Basically nothings changing which is what mahz has told us.Nothings going to be done. No communication but "Oh yeah I'm here"Well, I guess this served a purpose.We got Mahz to finally give us closure I guess. I guess it'll please some of the community who already didn't care, and for those who did oh well. Don't expect anything to happen.
That isn't what he said, but it seems sock puppets have issues with reading, seeing what they want to see and such, so *shrugs*
She was running, screaming his name over and over again though no sound came out of her throat. Something bad was coming, something absolutely terrible and faceless and it was right behind her - but she wasn't scared for herself. No, it was the kid sprinting in front of her, the one who was slow, just too damned slow to get away but was somehow always frustratingly just out of arms reach. But then she suddenly put on speed, her legs free of whatever morass wanted to hold her still, keep her from the boy as she reached out once more for his shoulder –
She was too late, a cold storm wind shoving her aside just as she felt the fabric of his shirt beneath her fingertips, and she fell. She fell and fell and just kept on falling, screaming though nothing came out of her mouth and she finally hit –
Bree woke with a loud snort of a snore that wracked her whole body, grey eyes suddenly wide with terror as her heart tried to pound its way out of her chest. Riddick yowled as he was bucked off his warm perch on her belly to the deep blue carpet of the hotel room, amber yellow eyes flashing back up to the top of the bed where his woman sat straight up gasping.
’Shit… Shitshitshitshit… ‘ Bree groaned as she let her face fall into her hands, rubbing swiftly and angrily at her cheeks and eyes. She was still in the same clothes, far more rumpled now than they’d been just hours ago, the flickering of the television screen now the only light in the night-darkened room. She panicked for a moment until her fingers scrambled for the keyboard of her laptop lying next to her on the bed, running her fingers over the keys until the screen lit up again and she could see the little clock in the corner.
Bad enough though, she’d lost two hours here in the mediocre bed of this mediocre airport Comfort Inn. She shouldn’t have been sleeping. Some small viciousness whispered in the back of her head that she didn’t deserve to sleep, not when she’d done nothing, absolutely nothing that had brought them even a little closer to finding Jacob. Oh sure, they were here in Boston – right outside Logan Airport at that. But that didn’t have a damn thing to do with anything Bree had pulled together herself.
Ethan. The only reason they were here now was because of Ethan, and she hadn’t the least idea where to go from here now. The sheer number of wiretap requests they’d dropped in the past four days was unprecedented, the surveillance teams from Boston and Richmond, New York and D.C. were working 24/7, but there was nothing – not a damned thing. There were cell phone records of course, but the sheer volume of people involved was simply staggering, and no matter the hundreds of possible leads generated that sent agents over what had to be every last inch of Boston there was still nothing. No Jacob. No sign of Jacob. Not even the littlest hint of where the boy could be…
Bree groaned softly in the back of her throat as she swung her legs over the bed’s edge, vaulting herself up off the mattress and making her way by television screen light toward the bathroom. She blinked swiftly when she hit the light switch, definitely not impressed with the pasty-skinned, bleary-eyed woman who stared back at her from the mirror. The deep blue-black bags under her eyes made her look like she’d been sucker punched, and Bree couldn’t really help but think just how appropriate that really seemed.
Mechanically, she began to brush her teeth, pulling a brush through her hair to pull it back into a ponytail that didn’t look like she’d been sleeping on it. She couldn’t sleep now. Wouldn’t sleep. Still didn’t deserve it but all she could think to do now, was to drive out to the surveillance team Tanner had set up tonight on one of the known warehouses, and know good and damn well to the bottom of her soul, she was a thousand times worse than useless right now.
She was too late, a cold storm wind shoving her aside just as she felt the fabric of his shirt beneath her fingertips, and she fell. She fell and fell and just kept on falling, screaming though nothing came out of her mouth and she finally hit –
Bree woke with a loud snort of a snore that wracked her whole body, grey eyes suddenly wide with terror as her heart tried to pound its way out of her chest. Riddick yowled as he was bucked off his warm perch on her belly to the deep blue carpet of the hotel room, amber yellow eyes flashing back up to the top of the bed where his woman sat straight up gasping.
’Shit… Shitshitshitshit… ‘ Bree groaned as she let her face fall into her hands, rubbing swiftly and angrily at her cheeks and eyes. She was still in the same clothes, far more rumpled now than they’d been just hours ago, the flickering of the television screen now the only light in the night-darkened room. She panicked for a moment until her fingers scrambled for the keyboard of her laptop lying next to her on the bed, running her fingers over the keys until the screen lit up again and she could see the little clock in the corner.
Bad enough though, she’d lost two hours here in the mediocre bed of this mediocre airport Comfort Inn. She shouldn’t have been sleeping. Some small viciousness whispered in the back of her head that she didn’t deserve to sleep, not when she’d done nothing, absolutely nothing that had brought them even a little closer to finding Jacob. Oh sure, they were here in Boston – right outside Logan Airport at that. But that didn’t have a damn thing to do with anything Bree had pulled together herself.
Ethan. The only reason they were here now was because of Ethan, and she hadn’t the least idea where to go from here now. The sheer number of wiretap requests they’d dropped in the past four days was unprecedented, the surveillance teams from Boston and Richmond, New York and D.C. were working 24/7, but there was nothing – not a damned thing. There were cell phone records of course, but the sheer volume of people involved was simply staggering, and no matter the hundreds of possible leads generated that sent agents over what had to be every last inch of Boston there was still nothing. No Jacob. No sign of Jacob. Not even the littlest hint of where the boy could be…
Bree groaned softly in the back of her throat as she swung her legs over the bed’s edge, vaulting herself up off the mattress and making her way by television screen light toward the bathroom. She blinked swiftly when she hit the light switch, definitely not impressed with the pasty-skinned, bleary-eyed woman who stared back at her from the mirror. The deep blue-black bags under her eyes made her look like she’d been sucker punched, and Bree couldn’t really help but think just how appropriate that really seemed.
Mechanically, she began to brush her teeth, pulling a brush through her hair to pull it back into a ponytail that didn’t look like she’d been sleeping on it. She couldn’t sleep now. Wouldn’t sleep. Still didn’t deserve it but all she could think to do now, was to drive out to the surveillance team Tanner had set up tonight on one of the known warehouses, and know good and damn well to the bottom of her soul, she was a thousand times worse than useless right now.
((double post))
"'Attempt,' Sara? An 'attempt at humor?' Ouch... " Preacher murmured under his breath as he read on, shrugging good-naturedly as internally he dedicated himself all over again to proving his personal hypothesis - that an android really could spontaneously generate a sense of humor given the right impetus. He still hadn't found the fulcrum that would move an android, but Preacher was a patient man...
One artificial fingertip stopped on the page where his eyes last roamed, and he gave Lena a sidelong glance. A soft smile rested on his face, though something icy lurked behind his dark eyes while she spoke with Sara about Reddick. Preacher truly appreciated his captain, but even more than he liked her? Even more than that, he respected her too. Lena Pretorius was one of the most skilled pilots he'd ever met, military or civilian, and a natural leader who sincerely cared for her people. Talented, skilled and personable - that was a precious rare triad of traits to find in a boss.
So yes, John Paul was more than happy - proud even - to be the right hand of a captain he respected, and the obvious lack thereof in Reddick pissed him off. Oh sure, the "mission director" likely thought his slight was a subtle dig, a miniscule reminder for Lena where the true power aboard the Aphelion lie. Well, provided of course Reddick gave a thought for what he was doing at all, and wasn't just outright dismissing her and the rest of the crew...
"Hmmph." Preacher laced the ribbon back to the page where the 41st chapter began, aviator foot falling to the ground as he pushed the Bible back into his cargo pocket, buttoning it back up again. As naturally as if they were the limbs he'd been born with, John Paul laced his fingers behind his head as he slouched a little further into his seat. And as naturally as he breathed, that same easy grin slipped back into its proper place.
Fuck James Reddick.
"Sergeant Winters!" he called over to the CM squad leader with a laugh, "You hear Mr. Sandoval? Consider this a standing order: if your boss takes a stroll toward an air lock any time soon? Intervene!" Diego had sunk back into some moody funk or other, likely pondering all the possibilities, angles and approaches he couldn't do a damn thing to change anyway. Didn't mean Preacher had to leave him there.
Preacher's gaze turned toward the pretty Engineering Officer with the sparkling smile who, strangely enough, seemed worried about her age. For the life of him he couldn't see why she'd think twice about such a thing; a mirror should tell Zelda all she needed to know about the complete lack of age ravaging on her face.
But it was the Russian navigator's unexpected and oh-so-literal explanation of the intricacies of time dilation that just tickled him. John Paul chuckled warmly, meeting Natan's expectant smile with his own - and then biting his lip, hard, to keep from laughing out loud as the young man's wandering eye for the ladies got him cold-busted by the good doctor. "I from Russia?" Like no one had noticed that quite yet - and really, was that all the explanation a guy needed, to talk his way out of awkwardness with the ladies? He'd have to give it a try some time.
Sure, it was probably fortunate for Natan that it hadn't been the Captain or Sergeant Winters who caught him eyeballing them - but no matter. Preacher just didn't have it in him to leave the poor guy hanging there long, lost and flailing and being Russian and all.
"So what kind of time are we talking about here, before the Prometheus' landing site is found?" he asked crisply, letting his hands fall back to his sides and standing to his feet with a grunt. Preacher strode to a nearby counter, pressing a latch to let a small door slide away to reveal a plate of donuts - or at least, what the Aphelion interpreted as donuts, or donut-like. He shrugged as he picked up the plate with one hand, claiming what might be interpreted as a "glazed donut" with the other as he returned to the table.
With a sly grin, Preacher leaned over beside Zelda to slide the plate to the table. "And if you like," he whispered to her with a laugh as he stood, "We can order up some synthetic frosting-like, find a flare in the emergency packs, maybe do up a birthday cake more-or-less-sorta right?" He smiled contentedly as he made his way back to his seat, synthetic donut replicant in hand and a hot, coffee-like liquid just waiting on him.
One artificial fingertip stopped on the page where his eyes last roamed, and he gave Lena a sidelong glance. A soft smile rested on his face, though something icy lurked behind his dark eyes while she spoke with Sara about Reddick. Preacher truly appreciated his captain, but even more than he liked her? Even more than that, he respected her too. Lena Pretorius was one of the most skilled pilots he'd ever met, military or civilian, and a natural leader who sincerely cared for her people. Talented, skilled and personable - that was a precious rare triad of traits to find in a boss.
So yes, John Paul was more than happy - proud even - to be the right hand of a captain he respected, and the obvious lack thereof in Reddick pissed him off. Oh sure, the "mission director" likely thought his slight was a subtle dig, a miniscule reminder for Lena where the true power aboard the Aphelion lie. Well, provided of course Reddick gave a thought for what he was doing at all, and wasn't just outright dismissing her and the rest of the crew...
"Hmmph." Preacher laced the ribbon back to the page where the 41st chapter began, aviator foot falling to the ground as he pushed the Bible back into his cargo pocket, buttoning it back up again. As naturally as if they were the limbs he'd been born with, John Paul laced his fingers behind his head as he slouched a little further into his seat. And as naturally as he breathed, that same easy grin slipped back into its proper place.
Fuck James Reddick.
"Sergeant Winters!" he called over to the CM squad leader with a laugh, "You hear Mr. Sandoval? Consider this a standing order: if your boss takes a stroll toward an air lock any time soon? Intervene!" Diego had sunk back into some moody funk or other, likely pondering all the possibilities, angles and approaches he couldn't do a damn thing to change anyway. Didn't mean Preacher had to leave him there.
Preacher's gaze turned toward the pretty Engineering Officer with the sparkling smile who, strangely enough, seemed worried about her age. For the life of him he couldn't see why she'd think twice about such a thing; a mirror should tell Zelda all she needed to know about the complete lack of age ravaging on her face.
But it was the Russian navigator's unexpected and oh-so-literal explanation of the intricacies of time dilation that just tickled him. John Paul chuckled warmly, meeting Natan's expectant smile with his own - and then biting his lip, hard, to keep from laughing out loud as the young man's wandering eye for the ladies got him cold-busted by the good doctor. "I from Russia?" Like no one had noticed that quite yet - and really, was that all the explanation a guy needed, to talk his way out of awkwardness with the ladies? He'd have to give it a try some time.
Sure, it was probably fortunate for Natan that it hadn't been the Captain or Sergeant Winters who caught him eyeballing them - but no matter. Preacher just didn't have it in him to leave the poor guy hanging there long, lost and flailing and being Russian and all.
"So what kind of time are we talking about here, before the Prometheus' landing site is found?" he asked crisply, letting his hands fall back to his sides and standing to his feet with a grunt. Preacher strode to a nearby counter, pressing a latch to let a small door slide away to reveal a plate of donuts - or at least, what the Aphelion interpreted as donuts, or donut-like. He shrugged as he picked up the plate with one hand, claiming what might be interpreted as a "glazed donut" with the other as he returned to the table.
With a sly grin, Preacher leaned over beside Zelda to slide the plate to the table. "And if you like," he whispered to her with a laugh as he stood, "We can order up some synthetic frosting-like, find a flare in the emergency packs, maybe do up a birthday cake more-or-less-sorta right?" He smiled contentedly as he made his way back to his seat, synthetic donut replicant in hand and a hot, coffee-like liquid just waiting on him.
That's awesome Kuro, and thank you so! Hope your Thanksgiving is being all amazing and such, filled with much turkey and pie!"Thank you Park," Abby said softly as he took up her empty plate, though she still had enough time to wipe her lips with a napkin and toss it away all on her own.
"And your opinion is worth an awful lot. Thank you for your insight on this too," she said sincerely. "We'll be sure to pass on anything worthwhile tonight. I feel better actually, with another reliable, solid thinker on board. Poor Dr. Brock was getting lonely there, with the only serviceable brain about."
Abby grinned at Gavin, chuckling just under her breath as she pushed away from the table. What did it matter really, that her banter felt thin? Strained? There was enough to trouble what little was left of the human race; humor was a small enough shield and defense. "So, let's go make sure you really are as paranoid as you think you are... " She took one of his hand in her own, still smiling as she made to haul the good geneticist to his feet. "Besides, I really just want to roll ourselves on out of here before Josey gets back and catches us," she shuddered comically, deep blue eyes wide with completely feigned terror at the very thought.
Abby cursed under her breath when a quick check of the station-wide roster on her tablet showed Antoine Eadoré was not on duty at the moment, which would have narrowed the search for the cryobed supervisor considerably. She glanced up apologetically to Gavin with a helpless shrug of her shoulders. "Well I suppose we could just go to his quarters, maybe offer up a prayer or two along the way that he's actually there? If not, well... We haven't taken to microchipping our people quite yet, no matter the convenience factor."
Her face suddenly brightened impishly as the pair made their way down the narrow hallways. "But I do know where we can find a veterinarian - just a thought now!"
**********
Pauline laughed as she caught her breath, which actually came out pretty wheezy but it was really pretty much all she could manage at the moment. "Hi there... I'm Pauline, and yes... I work here now too. Reece just 'hired' me... To help with the training programs... "
The young woman took that offered hand without a second thought, shaking it happily (though a little tenderly when she felt those blisters against her sensitive palm), taking the friendliness of Deli's chatter for a rather informal invitation to stop in for a while.
Pauline was totally good with this.
She leaned against the desk as she let Deli's hand go, peering over toward that contraband gummy bear stash with a hungry, twinkling light in her pale blue eyes. She lay one hand against her chest, took a single large breath, letting it out slowly as she began all over again.
"And yes, I do like the yellow ones. Don't get me wrong now - not near so much as those little kinda white clear ones that taste a bit like pineapple? But I'm not so picky a all that - I'll take whatever you'd like to share Deli, I don't mind at all." As if to prove her point, Pauline snatched up the nearest of the bright yellow gummy bears with a grin, popping it in her mouth to suck on for a bit. Sure, gummy bears were for chewing, but these might very well be the last gummy bears left in the universe. There was absolutely no way she was going to rush these precious moments.
"So what is it you do here in Hangar Six, Deli?"
"And your opinion is worth an awful lot. Thank you for your insight on this too," she said sincerely. "We'll be sure to pass on anything worthwhile tonight. I feel better actually, with another reliable, solid thinker on board. Poor Dr. Brock was getting lonely there, with the only serviceable brain about."
Abby grinned at Gavin, chuckling just under her breath as she pushed away from the table. What did it matter really, that her banter felt thin? Strained? There was enough to trouble what little was left of the human race; humor was a small enough shield and defense. "So, let's go make sure you really are as paranoid as you think you are... " She took one of his hand in her own, still smiling as she made to haul the good geneticist to his feet. "Besides, I really just want to roll ourselves on out of here before Josey gets back and catches us," she shuddered comically, deep blue eyes wide with completely feigned terror at the very thought.
Abby cursed under her breath when a quick check of the station-wide roster on her tablet showed Antoine Eadoré was not on duty at the moment, which would have narrowed the search for the cryobed supervisor considerably. She glanced up apologetically to Gavin with a helpless shrug of her shoulders. "Well I suppose we could just go to his quarters, maybe offer up a prayer or two along the way that he's actually there? If not, well... We haven't taken to microchipping our people quite yet, no matter the convenience factor."
Her face suddenly brightened impishly as the pair made their way down the narrow hallways. "But I do know where we can find a veterinarian - just a thought now!"
Pauline laughed as she caught her breath, which actually came out pretty wheezy but it was really pretty much all she could manage at the moment. "Hi there... I'm Pauline, and yes... I work here now too. Reece just 'hired' me... To help with the training programs... "
The young woman took that offered hand without a second thought, shaking it happily (though a little tenderly when she felt those blisters against her sensitive palm), taking the friendliness of Deli's chatter for a rather informal invitation to stop in for a while.
Pauline was totally good with this.
She leaned against the desk as she let Deli's hand go, peering over toward that contraband gummy bear stash with a hungry, twinkling light in her pale blue eyes. She lay one hand against her chest, took a single large breath, letting it out slowly as she began all over again.
"And yes, I do like the yellow ones. Don't get me wrong now - not near so much as those little kinda white clear ones that taste a bit like pineapple? But I'm not so picky a all that - I'll take whatever you'd like to share Deli, I don't mind at all." As if to prove her point, Pauline snatched up the nearest of the bright yellow gummy bears with a grin, popping it in her mouth to suck on for a bit. Sure, gummy bears were for chewing, but these might very well be the last gummy bears left in the universe. There was absolutely no way she was going to rush these precious moments.
"So what is it you do here in Hangar Six, Deli?"
Take care of yourself Prisk, and best wishes wherever you are off to.
Thank you for being human, BlackBeard! *grins* I have a lot of catching up to do today, lots of different places, but I'll see what I can do for a post later tonight, or early tomorrow.
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