@FaithsRose Post is up! I hope I didn't take too many liberties with Feather... Let me know what you think, its time to go shopping! *^_^*
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The landscape of the city had become more dismal as the day had gone on, and as the sun began to set low on the horizon it took with it what seemed to be the last rays of hope for humanity. In the blink of an eye it had become their world, a world of death and despair. There was nothing that mattered now except survival. And for many, even that had become a meaningless pursuit as they resigned themselves to their deaths, accepting this curse as humanity's punishment for it's sins.
Sebastian Blaine stared into the distance, back to where this disaster had begun for him. He thought he could still see the smoke rising from the wreckage of the Blackhawk that they had so foolishly damned to hell by thinking they stood a chance. He could hear the screams of his teammates as the hoard of infected engulfed them, and he blamed himself for leading them into a war that they could have not possibly been prepared for. The suspicion that his higher leadership had known all along infuriated him. Where a handful of crooked politicians really worth the lives of good Delta Force operators? And where was Nick, his friend and the only person Blaine hadn't physically seen be eaten alive?
The warm breeze brought the sweet smell of human decay along with it, one that Blaine was sadly not unfamiliar with. But not like this; never like this. Was the rest of the world lost to this plague? He thought of his sister, Sabrina, and was hit with a fresh sense of urgency to press on. He wouldn't stop moving until he found her alive. He could not afford to imagine any other outcome.
Yet even amidst the ashes of so much loss, Blaine had found some hope in his new companion. He had come across her at the bottom of the building on top of which they both stood now, having escaped a losing battle with a horde to the safety of higher ground. Wielding dual tomahawks like a tribal warrior, the woman seemed willing to go down in the glory of battle if that was to be her fate. Blaine had rushed into the fray at the last minute, swinging his own tomahawk as if the meeting of the two warriors was predestined, to cut a path into the building and to safety. When they had reached the roof she told him that he had broken a very important rule, something about never trying to be the hero. He had thought to himself that she didn't yet know the half of it.
He looked at her now, just as lost in her own thoughts as he was, her long dark hair swaying in the pungent air. 'Feather', she had called herself, and it was evident by the literal feathers in her hair and her face paint that she represented a proud and rare heritage. Clad in his own tactical gear, his HK416 slung across his back and 1911 in a drop-leg holster, the pair were a juxtaposition of ancient culture and modern warfare, one that had already come seamlessly together in the heat of battle. Their tomahawks were the most symbolic of this, hers crafted in the most traditional manner and his a tactical product of the most contemporary material.
Blaine walked to stand beside her and looked out at what he had decided would be his first deliberate destination en route to finding his sister. A shopping mall of that size was his best bet for supplies if he moved quickly. It was several blocks away, but moving tactically and purposefully it wouldn't be an impossible movement. He did not at all like the thought of Feather continuing on her own, but if the girl had her own agenda he couldn't force her to come along.
"Can't make any promises about what we'll find in there," Blaine said, "but I think it's worth a shot." He looked at her again, his icy blue eyes meeting her dark, expressionate ones. "Unless you have somewhere else you need to be?"
Sebastian Blaine stared into the distance, back to where this disaster had begun for him. He thought he could still see the smoke rising from the wreckage of the Blackhawk that they had so foolishly damned to hell by thinking they stood a chance. He could hear the screams of his teammates as the hoard of infected engulfed them, and he blamed himself for leading them into a war that they could have not possibly been prepared for. The suspicion that his higher leadership had known all along infuriated him. Where a handful of crooked politicians really worth the lives of good Delta Force operators? And where was Nick, his friend and the only person Blaine hadn't physically seen be eaten alive?
The warm breeze brought the sweet smell of human decay along with it, one that Blaine was sadly not unfamiliar with. But not like this; never like this. Was the rest of the world lost to this plague? He thought of his sister, Sabrina, and was hit with a fresh sense of urgency to press on. He wouldn't stop moving until he found her alive. He could not afford to imagine any other outcome.
Yet even amidst the ashes of so much loss, Blaine had found some hope in his new companion. He had come across her at the bottom of the building on top of which they both stood now, having escaped a losing battle with a horde to the safety of higher ground. Wielding dual tomahawks like a tribal warrior, the woman seemed willing to go down in the glory of battle if that was to be her fate. Blaine had rushed into the fray at the last minute, swinging his own tomahawk as if the meeting of the two warriors was predestined, to cut a path into the building and to safety. When they had reached the roof she told him that he had broken a very important rule, something about never trying to be the hero. He had thought to himself that she didn't yet know the half of it.
He looked at her now, just as lost in her own thoughts as he was, her long dark hair swaying in the pungent air. 'Feather', she had called herself, and it was evident by the literal feathers in her hair and her face paint that she represented a proud and rare heritage. Clad in his own tactical gear, his HK416 slung across his back and 1911 in a drop-leg holster, the pair were a juxtaposition of ancient culture and modern warfare, one that had already come seamlessly together in the heat of battle. Their tomahawks were the most symbolic of this, hers crafted in the most traditional manner and his a tactical product of the most contemporary material.
Blaine walked to stand beside her and looked out at what he had decided would be his first deliberate destination en route to finding his sister. A shopping mall of that size was his best bet for supplies if he moved quickly. It was several blocks away, but moving tactically and purposefully it wouldn't be an impossible movement. He did not at all like the thought of Feather continuing on her own, but if the girl had her own agenda he couldn't force her to come along.
"Can't make any promises about what we'll find in there," Blaine said, "but I think it's worth a shot." He looked at her again, his icy blue eyes meeting her dark, expressionate ones. "Unless you have somewhere else you need to be?"
I will do that. :-) ill probably tell it in retrospect so im not controlling feather at all. But i will leave it in a way that will be easy to reply to. *^_^*
*sad face
Sorry it was super looong weekend. :-( Ill start working on it and get it posted soon.
Interested. *^_^*
This sounds pretty fun. *^_^*
Well thanks!*^_^*
A gal's gotta have her priorities. ;-)
A gal's gotta have her priorities. ;-)
The view of space from the Ark was undeniably amazing. The vast expanse of glittering nothingness seemed eager to swallow everything up, and the casual space-gazers knew for the first time what it was like to truly feel small. The Earth could be seen as well, at least what was left of it. But even in its poor, depleted state the planet still demanded a meager amount of awe from anyone lucky enough to view it from orbit. The scene outside did indeed take the minds and imaginations of the Ark's passenger down a journey of wonder, and the realization that they were leaving to find a new home for humanity set the shimmering of hope in their eyes.
Dr. Daphne Davenport, with her back to the panoramic window that was the outside wall of the lounge, was completely oblivious to all of that.
She stared straight ahead at nothing in particular, a glass, wet with condensation, held loosely in one hand as she sat at the bar. The dazzle of the soft light sparkling off the many bottles of liquor on the shelf in front of her simulated the glitz of stars in her mind. The gentle thrum of the Ark sang her a comforting song, almost as if it were alive, and she focused on that to drown out the chattering of the other patrons who had wandered into the ship's lounge.
It occurred to her that she had never been so lonely in her life.
With her empty hand she pushed her black, thin-framed glasses up on her nose and blinked for the first time in many moments. That involuntary action was enough to jar her out of her trance and remind her that she had come into this exact location to complete a mission:
Daphne raised her glass to her lips and drained it; one small step for Daphne, one giant leap toward getting smashed. And she had been sure to ask for the real stuff and not that synthehol crap that the light-weights preferred. Her body could break down real alcohol just fine, the way it was supposed to. Daphne didn't care what anyone else said about it, it just wasn't the same.
She put the empty glass on the bar and and the pretty bartender replaced it with a full one. Not a word said - they had been doing this dance for awhile now. With a sigh Daphne sat back in her chair and ran a hand through her long blonde hair. She knew she was supposed to be checking into her quarters and preparing to enter 'the deep freeze', as she had began calling it in her head. Her anxiety shot through the roof at that though and she took a long pull on her new drink. There was also an impressive selection of anti-you-name-the-emotional-condtion medication in her bag, but Daphne was saving those for later. When she woke up from 'the deep freeze', who knew what kind of medical supplies she would have to work with. But, she surmised, that was a problem for future Daphne.
With a toss of her shiny blonde hair Daphne killed her drink and slapped the empty glass on the bar.
Dr. Daphne Davenport, with her back to the panoramic window that was the outside wall of the lounge, was completely oblivious to all of that.
She stared straight ahead at nothing in particular, a glass, wet with condensation, held loosely in one hand as she sat at the bar. The dazzle of the soft light sparkling off the many bottles of liquor on the shelf in front of her simulated the glitz of stars in her mind. The gentle thrum of the Ark sang her a comforting song, almost as if it were alive, and she focused on that to drown out the chattering of the other patrons who had wandered into the ship's lounge.
It occurred to her that she had never been so lonely in her life.
With her empty hand she pushed her black, thin-framed glasses up on her nose and blinked for the first time in many moments. That involuntary action was enough to jar her out of her trance and remind her that she had come into this exact location to complete a mission:
Daphne raised her glass to her lips and drained it; one small step for Daphne, one giant leap toward getting smashed. And she had been sure to ask for the real stuff and not that synthehol crap that the light-weights preferred. Her body could break down real alcohol just fine, the way it was supposed to. Daphne didn't care what anyone else said about it, it just wasn't the same.
She put the empty glass on the bar and and the pretty bartender replaced it with a full one. Not a word said - they had been doing this dance for awhile now. With a sigh Daphne sat back in her chair and ran a hand through her long blonde hair. She knew she was supposed to be checking into her quarters and preparing to enter 'the deep freeze', as she had began calling it in her head. Her anxiety shot through the roof at that though and she took a long pull on her new drink. There was also an impressive selection of anti-you-name-the-emotional-condtion medication in her bag, but Daphne was saving those for later. When she woke up from 'the deep freeze', who knew what kind of medical supplies she would have to work with. But, she surmised, that was a problem for future Daphne.
With a toss of her shiny blonde hair Daphne killed her drink and slapped the empty glass on the bar.
@nod2121 Great post, im excited! *^_^* So are we free to just start describing where we are on the ship, or is there a specific layout that you had in mind? Amenities that it does or does not have? Most advanced ship ever probably has everything imaginable to keep the crew entertained?
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