Who: Sveta, O'Brien and eventually others? Where: O'Brien's den of evil aka...his room What: This plot of doom! When: After this post Warnings: VIOLENCE
"Yes. I am sorry I am a little late. I was trying to put away the gifts I was given today." She wasn't one to delight in material trinkets, but she had to admit that the gifts were all very fitting and very appropriate. Useful. It seemed that she had made some good friends aboard this Barge who knew her well.
She stepped inside and did not even look around. At the moment, she had a one track mind. Instead, she handed him the journal she carried. "This is not a Christmas gift, Comrade. Rather, it is something I think you might be...interested in reading one day. I have tried to keep it as orthodox as possible." She seemed happy to be rid of it, though she was a touch awkward about it. Contained within the journal was a log, of sorts. She had kept a record of her "practicing" and her personal thoughts about it.
The book that was left over was the one he had gifted for her.
She nodded and moved to the chair. The fact that he was so gentle, so polite, was not even registering to her. This was the way that she saw him. This was the way that she knew him. And so it did not seem strange to her in any way that he would act in such a manner.
Sitting down, she folded her hands over the book and glanced down to the floor.
"Which books did you read, Comrade? And what questions did you have?" Might as well get on with it.
Una Persson tore up the halls of the Barge at record speed, especially for someone wearing tight dress and sharp heels. Someone had gotten pushed aside in her hurry; someone else had told her to watch where she was fucking going-she'd apologise later.
She'd only just noticed an alert in her notebook-and, she cursed herself, noticed it so late, too late. No, hopefully not that late, not if she hurried-
O'Brien's door. She flung herself bodily against it, but of course it was locked. She stepped back, drew her gun, aimed at the lock, and fired.
Una guessed that he was not terribly accustomed to being thwarted. Some part of her had to admire the calmness act, but that paled next to her anger at the sight of Sveta, bloodied and brutalised. She didn't lower the gun, but she didn't move either. "Put it down, O'Brien," she said coldly.
[[ooc: Yes, yes, feel free to skip Sveta until she's actually able to DO anything. I just got bored and decided to post anyway!]]
If Sveta was any more alert, she would have probably had a heart attack from the sound of the gun firing. But, as it was, she was only dimly aware of another presence in the room. Even the gag being shoved back into her mouth was of no consequence, except that now she could barely breathe between the broken nose and blocked mouth.
The electricity barely registered in the back of her mind. She glanced over idly to look at O'Brien, but she didn't truly see him. His words made no sense to her. She wanted to close her eyes, to just let darkness overtake her, but something inside of her knew that she had to keep awake and pay attention. Something good might happen...
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She stepped inside and did not even look around. At the moment, she had a one track mind. Instead, she handed him the journal she carried. "This is not a Christmas gift, Comrade. Rather, it is something I think you might be...interested in reading one day. I have tried to keep it as orthodox as possible." She seemed happy to be rid of it, though she was a touch awkward about it. Contained within the journal was a log, of sorts. She had kept a record of her "practicing" and her personal thoughts about it.
The book that was left over was the one he had gifted for her.
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(The comment has been removed)
Sitting down, she folded her hands over the book and glanced down to the floor.
"Which books did you read, Comrade? And what questions did you have?" Might as well get on with it.
Reply
Una Persson tore up the halls of the Barge at record speed, especially for someone wearing tight dress and sharp heels. Someone had gotten pushed aside in her hurry; someone else had told her to watch where she was fucking going-she'd apologise later.
She'd only just noticed an alert in her notebook-and, she cursed herself, noticed it so late, too late. No, hopefully not that late, not if she hurried-
O'Brien's door. She flung herself bodily against it, but of course it was locked. She stepped back, drew her gun, aimed at the lock, and fired.
The lock splintered and she kicked the door open.
Reply
(The comment has been removed)
Reply
If Sveta was any more alert, she would have probably had a heart attack from the sound of the gun firing. But, as it was, she was only dimly aware of another presence in the room. Even the gag being shoved back into her mouth was of no consequence, except that now she could barely breathe between the broken nose and blocked mouth.
The electricity barely registered in the back of her mind. She glanced over idly to look at O'Brien, but she didn't truly see him. His words made no sense to her. She wanted to close her eyes, to just let darkness overtake her, but something inside of her knew that she had to keep awake and pay attention. Something good might happen...
Reply
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