Stitches

Paradigm Shift: Agents of Fate

As Abigail entered the bunkhouse, she split from Angeline and wandered to her (second hand, replaced and thankfully not-yet melted) sleeping bag. Her personal effects didn't amount to much; it's apparent that she either didn't have time to pack or didn't have anything of note to bring with her. The clothes were hand-me-downs from the VU alongside a few amenities and a little box of feminine products. She didn't often consider the nuances of fashion when she was picking out her clothes but always had a set of 'pyjamas' that amounted to an oversized pink T shirt with 'Towcester City' printed on the front and some tracksuit bottoms.

True to her word, she stripped and got changed right there in the bunkhouse. This was not an unusual occurrence. However, it was apparent that Abigail had no intention of sleeping just yet. She looked exhausted, though - beyond exhausted, so tired that the tiredness plateaued into a constant state of surreal drunkenness. Her sunken eyes, erratic movements and idle scritching at her bandaged hands made her look more wretched than she had been before. Nevertheless, she stretched her gangly arms high into the air and mumbled some half-excuse of "I think I forgot summin' back in the washroom, so I'm just gonna-"

“Not on your life- are you kidding me?”

Abigail paused mid-stride, her foot still in the air. She looked at Brooks who had set aside his magazine enough to match her steely glare. "Fuck d'you mean 'no'?" She asked in a tone that made it apparent that she hadn't often heard that word before - at least, not used in with this amount of severity.

“‘No’ as in ‘No, you idiot, you’re not going out’. No one is.” Brooks leant back into his chair again and opened up his magazine. It looked like he was waiting for the inevitable. Abigail took a second to process it then flapped her arm at the entrance to the store.

"But the other feller let me out all the time!" She cried, outraged. No response was given.

"You can't keep us in here all night, what if I gotta take a leak?!" She continued. Brooks was unflinching. He didn't even look up or respond to her and the lack of response was far more effective than wasting time trying to argue.

"This is tyrannical, You ain't much better than the FOE!" Still nothing. Abigail was losing steam fast - like trying to punch down a brick wall.

"Screw you," she muttered as her final jab at the unaffected bootlegger. Disheartened and trying her best to remain conscious, Abigail trapised a lap around the perimeter of the bunkhouse looking for something to do and, unfortunately, Zephyr just so happened to be in her immediate line of sight at that point. She tottered over. "Is it weird being the only feller in this bunk now?" She asked. "Do you feel all overwhelmed n' shit?"

Paradigm Shift: Agents of Fate

Happy to announce we're looking for new members once again! We're shooting for quality over quantity, and our players ought to be looking at the long term since I think it's been well over a year since we started and we're still alive and kicking. As per usual, you can check out the OOC and come jump in the discord - we'd be happy to have you.

Paradigm Shift: Agents of Fate

A year's gone and past and we're still kicking, much to Bazmund's dismay and delight. Now that we've finished a big mission, I'm happy to announce that recruitment is once again open. We're looking for long term players who are invested in character development. Our group is small and our brains are smooth but together, we cobble together some pretty okay IC posts. Even if most of them are collabs.

Outlaws Til the End - A Wild West RP

@LeiaHair

"-And what with the new influx of fellas coming in from the east coast, workin' their way up to New Hanlon fer bigger plots of land, broader business ventures...why, until this place gets civilised they practically ain't got a choice 'cept to use a horse, and a horse, gentlemen, is a long-term investment."

A group of well dressed men entered McKinley Saloon quite early in the morning, talking loud and proud about their latest business venture. The largest man, more fat than muscle, was dominating the scene; this was Mathias Quinn. The little young woman near the back of the group - that was Annalise Quinn. Out of the two, the latter was the biggest surprise of them all. It had to have been at least six months since she'd last been spotted by any of the locals outside of her husband's property. She was decently dressed but seemed to just radiate discomfort and fear, from the way she clutched her hands at her front to how closely she was kept to Mathias.

When Annalise's husband and his colleagues sat at a table, the man looked up at his wife with a big, toothsome smile. "Come now darling, today's a celebration. Why don't you go and set about making friends? Order yourself something good to eat." He waved a hand across the saloon. "Me and the boys here need to iron out a few things over breakfast anyhow."

This was an even rarer occurrence. She was usually kept at his side on a short leash; bewildered, the young woman sat on a bar stool not too far from Hannah. The barkeep looked at her with a strained, sympathetic smile. "Spot of coffee for you too, Mrs Quinn?" He asked. The waif nodded once.

From her position at the bar, the cuffs of her sleeves rode up just enough to see the greenish bruises underneath.

Outlaws Til the End - A Wild West RP

Annalise

Personal Quote: "Fass mich nicht an."

Name: Annalise

Gender: Female

Race: Caucasian

Nationality: German

Age: 19

Occupation: Personal Assistant and Housewife to Mr Mathias Quinn, owner of the Quinn & Co. livery stables in McKinley

Faction: The Bounty Hunters

Family: Two parents and a sister, all swept out by a scarlet fever epidemic in her hometown when she was a child. An uncle - Thomas - and a husband. Mathias.

Horse: Annalise's horse is one she can never own. A thoroughbred mare called Irene, currently in the care of a rancher in the northern regions New Hanlon.

Equipment: To be Determined. In order to discern what she ventures out into the prairie with, she'll need to make it out of McKinley.

Skills: A mismatch of Equine Veterinary care and effective household duties has given Annalise a large breadth of experience in menial labour. She can sew and repair garments, cook meals, wash, care for horses, shoe them, and maintain tack and equipment without difficulty.

Personality: Reserved first and foremost. There's a thick layer of oblique politeness to get through, which oftentimes peels back into a silent staring and contemplation that really doesn't give you much to go off of if you're trying to get to know her. She's young and a little naïve because of it; she holds an unquenchable curiosity that not even her married life could dampen. Saying that she's still uncertain of how the world works would be an insult to her tenacity to survive; she's a little resentful and embittered by her experiences. Whatever she's hiding still haunts her in one way or another.

Likes/Dislikes:
Often using her profession as an excuse to get out of the house, Annalise has grown quite fond of horses and donkeys. She equates the outdoors to 'alone time' and prefers to spend her time out there in contemplation. Her favourite food is sweet pastries and she really likes daffodils and the colour yellow. A long time ago she liked music and dance.

Due to her experiences, indoor spaces - those with a lack of exits and particularly those that are unkempt - put her on edge. Older men make her nervous. Drunkenness is a surefire way to disgust her. Pale blue, especially on long, sheet-like garments, makes her nauseous.

Backstory (optional): It is said by the people of McKinley that Annalise Quinn used to be part of the German immigrants from the East coast until a fierce outbreak of Scarlet Fever took a decent chunk of the local populace. She was sent westward to her uncle Thomas, who saw it fit and advantageous to marry her to Mathias Quinn; a wealthy proprietor and owner of Quinn & Co, who provide high quality horses to purchasers all around New Hanlon. This includes, but is not limited to, some of the local and prosperous stagecoach companies in the area - as well as several high profile individuals.

It is also said that the wife of Mathias Quinn wasn't exactly talkative and didn't seem to surface much from the livery grounds. She didn't make friends and was kept always within arm's reach of the brutish gentleman with whom she was married. This was no doubt because she was pretty, young, and foreign - easily lead astray by any coy smoothtalker who may have wandered in from out of town. It certainly had nothing to do with the possessive showoffishness of her marital partner and his stern methods of showing affection.

So Annalise waits in McKinley for something. Something she isn't sure will ever come around - and if it did, in what form it would take.

Outlaws Til the End - A Wild West RP

Annalise

Personal Quote: "Fass mich nicht an."

Name: Annalise

Gender: Female

Race: Caucasian

Nationality: German

Age: 19

Occupation: Personal Assistant and Housewife to Mr Mathias Quinn, owner of the Quinn & Co. livery stables in McKinley

Faction: The Bounty Hunters

Family: Two parents and a sister, all swept out by a scarlet fever epidemic in her hometown when she was a child. An uncle - Thomas - and a husband. Mathias.

Horse: Annalise's horse is one she can never own. A thoroughbred mare called Irene, currently in the care of a rancher in the northern regions New Hanlon.

Equipment: To be Determined. In order to discern what she ventures out into the prairie with, she'll need to make it out of McKinley.

Skills: A mismatch of Equine Veterinary care and effective household duties has given Annalise a large breadth of experience in menial labour. She can sew and repair garments, cook meals, wash, care for horses, shoe them, and maintain tack and equipment without difficulty.

Personality: Reserved first and foremost. There's a thick layer of oblique politeness to get through, which oftentimes peels back into a silent staring and contemplation that really doesn't give you much to go off of if you're trying to get to know her. She's young and a little naïve because of it; she holds an unquenchable curiosity that not even her married life could dampen. Saying that she's still uncertain of how the world works would be an insult to her tenacity to survive; she's a little resentful and embittered by her experiences. Whatever she's hiding still haunts her in one way or another.

Likes/Dislikes:
Often using her profession as an excuse to get out of the house, Annalise has grown quite fond of horses and donkeys. She equates the outdoors to 'alone time' and prefers to spend her time out there in contemplation. Her favourite food is sweet pastries and she really likes daffodils and the colour yellow. A long time ago she liked music and dance.

Due to her experiences, indoor spaces - those with a lack of exits and particularly those that are unkempt - put her on edge. Older men make her nervous. Drunkenness is a surefire way to disgust her. Pale blue, especially on long, sheet-like garments, makes her nauseous.

Backstory (optional): It is said by the people of McKinley that Annalise Quinn used to be part of the German immigrants from the East coast until a fierce outbreak of Scarlet Fever took a decent chunk of the local populace. She was sent westward to her uncle Thomas, who saw it fit and advantageous to marry her to Mathias Quinn; a wealthy proprietor and owner of Quinn & Co, who provide high quality horses to purchasers all around New Hanlon. This includes, but is not limited to, some of the local and prosperous stagecoach companies in the area - as well as several high profile individuals.

It is also said that the wife of Mathias Quinn wasn't exactly talkative and didn't seem to surface much from the livery grounds. She didn't make friends and was kept always within arm's reach of the brutish gentleman with whom she was married. This was no doubt because she was pretty, young, and foreign - easily lead astray by any coy smoothtalker who may have wandered in from out of town. It certainly had nothing to do with the possessive showoffishness of her marital partner and his stern methods of showing affection.

So Annalise waits in McKinley for something. Something she isn't sure will ever come around - and if it did, in what form it would take.

There we go, one out of a possible 4.

Outlaws Til the End - A Wild West RP

I was actually planning on joining this with a friend, is there any room?

Edit: a better question might be "how much room is there", because I'm looking at up to 4 people including myself who may want to join but in that case we'll probably make a different faction? How would the GMing work if we weren't part of the group?

Falling Skies: Reboot ver 2

Pilot Profile

Without EVA suit

Appearance: Lanky, short and oddly proportioned, with large bony hands and knobbly knees. Abigail isn’t what you’d call a pretty blonde, blue-eyed girl. She looks a bit ratty. She looks younger than she is, trapped in some weird pubescent mid-development phase that her parents probably promised she’d grow out of. She’s got a gap between her two front teeth that you can fit a card into. She has scars all over, notably a burn scar on her left forearm, a ragged cut on the side of her neck, all sorts of abrasion marks all over and a sealed bullet hole near her right kidney.
Name: Harlow, Abigail
Age: 21
Callsign: Pipsqueak
Kills: 2

Psychological Analysis: Rambunctious. Abigail has this habit of using humour to cope, chatting incessantly - in both languages - cracking jokes and trying to keep morale up. As one of the youngest in the 101st she can come off as naïve from time to time but carries a weight and presence of character that seeps through her goofy exterior and hints at why she's in the team in the first place. She's naive and not always the brightest but makes up for it by second guessing herself, correcting and learning from mistakes.

Most prominent is her tenacity. Abigail isn't as patriotic as she is stubborn to keep going, even if it endangers her. Hard working, loyal and willing to do jobs most deem disgusting, she's a valuable asset in that sense. That said, she's wet behind the ears. She's seen a lot for her age but hasn't been put in morally straining situations and there's still speculation as to whether she'll be able to stomach the most ruthless parts of the job. She oozes potential, though, with an almost innate ability to predict and react to situations without thinking and has worked well under the physical and metaphorical pressure she's been put into so far.

Abigail doesn't have a lot going for her back home so she's bonding pretty quickly with the rest of the team and holds a lot of admiration towards the UEE. Her connection to Jakunta and Aleks in particular is no doubt being manipulated to maintain her steadfast loyalty and push her to her limits. She's still got a lot of the galaxy to see and an eagerness to see it all before the inevitable crash and burn that awaits all MAS pilots worth their salt.

Personal Record:
Abigail was a born and bred Savonian in the northernmost ice flats of Jaatikar; a denizen out of a few thousand living in one of the remote but highly profitable Savonite mines that follow a seam through a glacier. The output is low compared to some of the high production mines in the mainland but the purity, due to being interspersed in the ice, is incredibly high. The community is tight knit but deeply impoverished with a high mortality rate. To survive in the ice flats, you needed steady footing and quick reaction times. The shale burrowers that lurked underneath the surface would often be a nuisance to the settlement and the sea was a black expanse of megafauna so incomprehensibly large and dangerous that you were better off taking an aircraft to the mainland - and these didn't arrive often, and when they did, they were full of supply payloads for the settlers.

As a result Abigail grew up with regular shortages and a devil-may-care approach to making friends, knowing full well they could one day fall off the scaffolding or freeze outdoors or get eaten by a monumental burrowing worm. But northerners were known for their camaraderie and high spirits - a survival instinct developed against the overwhelming dreariness of their home. They helped each other and learnt very quickly. They had an honour code to uphold. They were hard working, proud people. They had their own customs and rituals, perhaps not to the extent of a Krellian but minor superstitions that helped them cope with the nigh-intolerable conditions.

By all accounts, it's uncharacteristic of the northerners to take to the Coalition's takeover so naturally. But the records do not lie - the Coalition took over the ice flats first and worked their way into the mainland, cutting off the most inhospitable regions first to prevent the locals from using these areas as pockets of resistance. In truth, Abigail is always quick to remind people that the Coalition were shooting down their supply deliveries and forcing the locals to capitulate in exchange for food and medicine. Because of how infrequently they were monitored by the mainland government, Abigail’s mining colony was the first to fall and one of the more prominent losses.

Life under the Coalition was confusing. On the one hand, they were treated to more luxuries but worked harder than ever before. Drugs and crime began to spike. A red light district began to form. People turned to alcohol and narcotics to cope with the chill because the usual parties and celebrations were cut due to longer working hours. The ice flats were broken under the Coalition and changed in a matter of months. There were still sceptics lurking amongst the ice-encrusted railings, people who noticed the change early on and banded together to try and prevent what was happening - then, to disrupt production in any way they can - then, to simply survive in the new rule.

Abigail lost her father to a work accident when she was little and her mother had a severe limp due to a childhood injury which prevented her from working the mines. In order to provide for her mother, Abigail gave up on schooling early to work in one of the refinement factories in the ice flats. She became accustomed to working with older people, mainly blue collar adults and tried her best to fit in whilst monopolising on her youthful innocence. She was The Kid. And if it made these grizzled bastards feel a little better about themselves when they snuck her a pepparkakor or a cigarette, or when they’d infantilize her and go to irrational lengths to keep her safe from the other grizzled bastards, then where’s the harm in playing along?

Abigail’s position in the Ice Flats became even more tenuous and difficult to maintain when the Coalition moved in. She’d been promoted from ‘plucky young labourer’ to ‘symbol of Jaatikar’s community spirit’, as it took a village to raise Abigail and all eyes of the village were on her. She kept going to the factory because she needed the money and even less people were able to provide handouts. She looked the other way when meetings were carried out in the boiler room, and feigned obliviousness when it came to unmarked packages near the factory’s generator. When the sabotages occurred and the fights broke out, Abigail made her decision - and in the simmering aftermath of one of many failed attempts by the locals to retake the colony from the Coalition, she started to join the insurgents. She delivered correspondence and hid ammunition in crates of Savonite. She was hardly privy to the plans of the movement in general but took odd jobs from those that were In The Know and didn’t ask questions. The less Abigail knew, the better it was for everyone. By this point she was still very young (though not young enough to be turned away as a labourer by the Coalition) and didn’t fully grasp the scope of what was being attempted, nor the consequences of being involved. Her mother was kept in the dark about her participation in the movement.

When the UEE finally launched a co-ordinated assault to recapture Savonia from the Coalition, the 101st were sent north as they were best equipped for a guerilla attack in very unfavourable conditions. They initially took the port town of Luminsky and worked their way towards Jaatikar with the help of the fishermen there. But the Coalition were forewarned of their approach and came prepared, mingling soldiers of their own in civilian clothing and muddling the lines between insurgent, bystander and coalition soldier. It was a confusing, bloody affair that ultimately worked itself out as the northerners who sided with the Coalition were just as unwelcome as the Coalition itself. Jaatikar’s population had been almost halved by the assault and there were a lot of families with dead relatives, strangers with dead friends and parents with dead children.

One of the noteworthy reports from the assault on Jaatikar was the attack on the refinement factory. In order to stall production and exportation of Savonite to the Coalition, the UEE took the blow of demolishing the factory’s machinery to lure out Coalition soldiers and MAS reinforcements under the assumption that when Savonia was rid of the Coalition, the locals would have enough time and resources to rebuild. As always, it was Aleksanderin and Jakunta who helped organise the rebels and lead them in for the assault. Tangentially, Abigail was one of the insurgents who placed the charges under the generator and distillery. The explosion caused the soldiers to retaliate faster than the 101st had anticipated and fired upon the evacuating workers. During this time Jakunta was shot in the back of the leg and shattered his kneecap. Abigail, who had kept out of the gunfire and closer to the wings of the factory, rushed out to help Jakunta to safety. They retreated to Jakunta’ MAS. The sustained blood loss and urgency of the wound left Jakunta in an unsavoury position; without covering fire the Coalition would continue to gun down the civilians but there was a very real chance of irreparable damage or severe blood loss if he tried to pilot his MAS to aid the retreat. Whilst tending to his injury, Jakunta instructed the girl on how to activate the MAS’ defences and aim above the battle to fire upon the factory. The chaos of the artillery fire, rubble and noise gave the locals plenty of time to retreat and the 101st regrouped to rout the Coalition forces.

Marked by the local UEE division as an act of Exceptional Service, Abigail’s actions that day were used as something of a propaganda stunt to inspire the locals down in the Mainlands. When Savonia fell under UEE control she was rewarded with fully subsidised academic training to become a MAS pilot of her own. She accepted after encouragement from her mother and her peers, only to find out that her remaining parent died of complications from injuries sustained in the assault. Abigail’s education was shaken by this event and it held her back from graduation. In the wake of her mother’s funeral she reached out to Jakunta and Aleksanderin via electronic mail, using the address that Jakunta provided after the assault. They became penpals and Abigail found sources of comfort with a way to process her grief.

Abigail was inducted into the 101st upon recommendation from the two Savonians. Whilst her merit spoke for itself, the added bonus of her strong bonds with two of the crew and the lack of relatives back home were strong incentives that could be used to make a very loyal soldier. Her training was altered as a result of this decision as they used her experiences to produce a more fitting MAS and role in the division; a mixture of reconnaissance and evasive tactics designed to harass, flummox and disorient the 101st’s targets enough for the professionals to come in and finish the job. She responded well to the test runs of the Kolibri and even enjoyed certain parts of the ordeal, such as the High-G training and simulations. Since joining the division she has two confirmed kills, though both are marked down as finishing blows after heavy fire from her comrades.

Equipment: Standard military affair aside, Abigail has two particular pieces of equipment she keeps on her person at all times: a EVA suit and an encrypted data pad. The suit is a custom build that accompanies her MAS; it plugs in to charge in the cockpit (but has standardised UEE sockets for ease of access) and wraps around Abigail's jumpsuit when she sits down and powers the helmet. This provides assistance to tolerate the centrifugal forces she experiences, has its own O2 mask and Comms unit built in and is designed to withstand the vacuum of space for up to three hours with limited movement via weak thrusters in the back. The data pad is more of a tablet than anything else but it functions like a modern smartphone device and is primarily used to access Full Echo data and for her own personal leisure. She carries a wireless portable speaker to blast the tunes she's downloaded on it as well.

Personally assigned into Abigail's kit list are a set of combat stimulants , typically derivatives of amphetamines, that are administered through a device similar to an epi-pen. They help her intracerebral blood pressure remain stable and keep her alert enough to handle long endurance combat scenarios but make her aggressive with powerful mood swings, teeth grinding and bouts of paranoia. They are to be administered on the pilot's discretion and only when she feels it's necessary to do so. Since her induction into the 101st, she's only used combat stimulants twice in the dozens of missions she's been on - both times she recorded the date and time of dosage as well as alerting her crew of its use.

MAS Profile

Appearance: Designed to look identical to a UEE Sparrow MAS, the only notable exception that identifies this machine in appearance is the MAS designation and serial number are printed.
Designation: Kolibri C-90
Role: Scout
Chassis: Light
Description: Officially recognised as an altered version of the popular Sparrow MAS fitted with state of the art surveillance systems for scouting unfamiliar territory, the Kolibri's true purpose is a gutted, repurposed MAS made to counter, harass and frighten most Light and medium MAS away from the bulk of the 101st forces and into their line of fire. The use of high end targeting systems, radar and sophisticated boosters comes at the cost of its armour, relying upon the skill of the pilot to keep it out of trouble. It still functions as a data gathering unit out of combat to provide the 101st with detailed information ranging from the composition of a planet's atmosphere, a topographic map and infrared imaging software - to name a few.
Systems: Countermeasure System: - Countermeasure systems are often used by lighter MAS's to avoid missiles instead of using body mounted machine guns to intercept them. Using chaff and flares, countermeasure systems have limited number of uses before needing to rearm. Countermeasures do not take up a utility system slot. The countermeasure system on the Kolibri can be manually activated in a pinch to provide distractions and disorient enemies.

Smart-Target AI (Utility): - By improving or replacing the standard MAS computer with a Smart Targeting AI, MAS's can now rapidly acquire multiple targets simultaneously, making 'blind firing' more accurate and providing an edge in close ranged combat.

Full Echo Surveillance Suite (Utility): - State of the art technology has created a sophisticated system of radars and scanners installed deep behind the chassis of the Kolibri. Slow and cumbersome to activate in combat, this utility system can be interfaced with to update the 101st's data on a location and its inhabitants. The energy it uses disables the thrusters entirely, leaving the Kolibri grounded during its surveillance. The longer Full Echo is left on and the more ground covered during the scans, the more comprehensive the results. Sustained use of the system can result in overheating of the MAS.

Faedvir Omnidirectional B67 Thrusters (Utility): - FO-B67 thrusters emphasize manoeuvrability over sheer speed. Interfacing with the Smart-Target AI system and manual controls from the pilot, these thrusters require a light touch and quick reaction times. Whilst only marginally faster than a standard light MAS in vertical or horizontal flight, the FO-B67 allows the Kolibri to perform aerial manoeuvres around its targets and avoid incoming projectiles.

M90C 30mm Autocannon Carbine (Primary): - A cut down version of the standard M90 autocannon. the M90C fires 30mm armor piercing incendiary shells from a 100 round box magazine. The M90C has semi-automatic, 5-round burst, and fully automatic firing modes, and has a fire rate of 900 RPM. Up to 4 additional box magazines are stored within compartments in the Kolibri's thighs, but it has been fitted with 2 extra hollow point magazines under the wings to compensate for the removed claymore missiles and underslug micro-missiles.

M15 Heat Knife (Secondary): - A smaller, lightweight version of the M16 without as much oomph as its descendent, the M15 is a smaller blade with dual-edged heating elements. Best used in sharp stabbing motions against other MAS in weak spots for messy damage, but otherwise incapable of piercing a chassis without multiple blows. Far more effective against lighter targets.

Falling Skies: Reboot ver 2

At the back of the lounge sat the Savonians. It wasn't that they had a predisposition against mingling but rather that the squishy beanbag chair was at the back; Abigail's squishy beanbag chair. Her throne upon which she slouched and oftentimes spilt food onto both herself and the chair. At present, she was lazily sipping a Froot Skwurt and half dozing off in an attempt to muster up whatever final vestiges of professionalism she had left prior to her time on leave. To her left (on a firmer leather couch) was the hulking Zalavi veteran Jakunta, and next to him sat Aleksanderin Danielsson. Neither had any difficulty composing themselves in a collected, alert manner; they simply chose not to and were engaged in some quiet conversation before Ingram corralled them back for the debriefing.

Upon mention of Horizon Point, Abigail straightened up to crane her neck at the lounge windows and look out across the unappealing bustle of the shipyard that preceded the food courts, nightclubs, hotels and shops within. Abigail asked Jakunta something, prodding him in the arm. He replied, pausing and sipping his drink - a can of beer. The harsh drawl of a Zalavi accent mingled unpleasantly with the Savonian dialogue.

This was reciprocated by a wistful comment from the younger woman as she slumped back into her beanbag and continued the arduous task of listening. Her eyes narrowed slightly as her datapad lit up and she stared at Clara with a sort of cold curiosity. Jakunta's expression was indifferent and Aleks was typically inscrutable.

Almost immediately, the comments started.

Abigail's face furrowed with confusion; she asked something. Jakunta answered her. She continued to talk with some measure of scrutiny before leaning over Jakunta and asking Aleksanderin a question, gesturing to her datapad as she followed it up with some sort of observation. There was little doubt by now who they were talking about.

Their previously-silent commander went on a surprisingly long spiel to Abigail. Aleks nodded to himself, traipsing through the conversation like a hiker, stepping through each topic and moving swiftly - jarringly, even, to anyone who didn’t already know him - to the next, like they were obstacles, or puddles on a muddy path. He wondered over something idly, looking down at Abigail sucking on her own little Froot Skwurt.

Abigail spread her arms in a grandiose gesture. Her eyes lit upon the new girl with a glint of amusement. She started with something in Savonian, then abruptly swapped to English "Welcome aboard, Lieutenant," she called out. No fanfare - no comments, no remarks. Only a big grin and a nod. Aleks gave a nod in the newbie twoie-louie’s direction as Abi called out to her. He made another, quieter comment in Savonian and by that point the name 'Alcántara' undoubtedly cropped up as he added as an aside to Jak and Abi. Abigail leant in to respond. She really put on the accent as she redirected her grin at the commander, spelling out an 'Alecks-sander-in Danny-ell-sson' at the end of her sentence.

Her comment had unfortunate timing as Ingram explained that the gentleman she just insulted was also in charge of granting her leave request. Her grin was cleanly wiped off her face, the palid expression of realisation replaced it and then twisted into determination. She snatched her data pad and started frantically pressing on the screen. A half second later, Aleks' pad started incessantly pinging with notifications.

"Accept my leave request," Abigail grumbled in English.

“No.” Aleks grinned, turning his pad to silent.

"A real Savonian warrior would kneel at the request of a fair lady," Abigail reminded him.

“Savolax.” He corrected her politely. “You are also neither fair nor ladylike.”

"Can't fault you on that one, but this is...well, it's entrapment. We don't really need to wait until 1700 hours, do we?" Abigail gesticulated at the window. "It's right there! There's people on it! Safe as can be!"

“Only until it explodes, or the Coalition launches a surprise invasion and captures us as prisoners of war, or the water supply becomes contaminated and people violently hallucinate, or the world ends - et cetera, et cetera, and so on.” Aleks snarked at her. “You should learn to think before you speak, just imagine all of the boys in shitty bars you won’t have to buy you drinks now.”

"And girls. Mostly Savonian, some foreign. It's hard being a celebrity sometimes," Abigail sighed. "All I have are my fat UEE royalties cheques to wipe my tears at night. It's all they're really good for because I can't go on fucking leave to spend them." She changed tactics. "But enough about me. Think of poor Jakunta!"

The Zalavi grunted and stopped staring at Clara to glower down at Abigail as she continued her tirade. "We're denying this soldier his dues. He has a right - a fundamental human need - to physiotherapy after such a long and stressful mission. How can you face yourself in the mirror each morning knowing you've let him suffer for so long?"

Aleksanderin looked down at Abigail and responded in patronisingly formal Savonian. Even the English speakers could make out the phrase 'cocksucking' tossed in once or twice and whatever he said had immediate effect as Abigail's expression instantly turned into one of outrage. "That's low. Even for you," she hissed with disgust. "Ingram! Aleks says I don't get any leave today!"

Aleks was grinning, a big, stupid, chesire cat smile. He had nothing to hide.

Falling Skies: Reboot (Mecha, Space Opera)

We've done a new thread for our RP before and it really works, so I'm not fussed. A discord allows for faster OOC communication but does end up making your thread look a bit dead on RPerguild. I'm fine with either, so I suppose it's up to the others to make up their minds.