(no subject)
Until I see you all again - know this, wherever my path may lead even in the darkest places I will carry you all in my heart and you will light my way always.
Beka sighed and rubbed her temples. Rev's goodbye had shaken her; she'd practically forgotten what it was like without him. It had been so long... Rev wasn't just her crew, he was her friend, she missed his overly kind manner and prattle about the Divine. Damnit, she missed having a level headed being on board. She took a deep breath to calm herself and called, "Rommie?"
"Yes, Beka?" The cool, female voice responded.
"How's Harper doing?"
Rommie knew exactly what she meant, "He's not hurting as badly as he could be."
A wave of protective concern washed over her, "Great,"
Seamus Harper, you have a knack for trouble, "Just great. Thanks, Rommie."
As she walked towards the door, Beka felt something twist and her step propelled her straight into a tall blonde… person.
"Oomph-Beka?"
"Trance?"
Weird. She had been no where near obs deck.
"Did you need something?" she was looking quizzically at Beka whose expression resembled that of a person who had been hit in the face with a 2 by 4.
"No. I uh-no." Beka shook her head, this was weird.
"Beka are you sure you're-"
But Trance's words were lost as Beka felt something twist again.
This time, however, she was at a loss. The walls were dank and slimy, and it smelled absolutely foul. The hairs on the back of her neck stood at attention as she remembered why this place was familiar, where she knew it from. This place was almost the same as the room where Tyr and Harper had been held on the Magog warship, an impression strengthened by the sounds of far-off screeching. She put a hand to her force lance and whispered, "Rommie? Can you hear me?"
Nothing.
"Trance, Dylan?"
Nothing.
"Harper?"
"Tyr?"
Not. Good.
Beka sighed and rubbed her temples. Rev's goodbye had shaken her; she'd practically forgotten what it was like without him. It had been so long... Rev wasn't just her crew, he was her friend, she missed his overly kind manner and prattle about the Divine. Damnit, she missed having a level headed being on board. She took a deep breath to calm herself and called, "Rommie?"
"Yes, Beka?" The cool, female voice responded.
"How's Harper doing?"
Rommie knew exactly what she meant, "He's not hurting as badly as he could be."
A wave of protective concern washed over her, "Great,"
Seamus Harper, you have a knack for trouble, "Just great. Thanks, Rommie."
As she walked towards the door, Beka felt something twist and her step propelled her straight into a tall blonde… person.
"Oomph-Beka?"
"Trance?"
Weird. She had been no where near obs deck.
"Did you need something?" she was looking quizzically at Beka whose expression resembled that of a person who had been hit in the face with a 2 by 4.
"No. I uh-no." Beka shook her head, this was weird.
"Beka are you sure you're-"
But Trance's words were lost as Beka felt something twist again.
This time, however, she was at a loss. The walls were dank and slimy, and it smelled absolutely foul. The hairs on the back of her neck stood at attention as she remembered why this place was familiar, where she knew it from. This place was almost the same as the room where Tyr and Harper had been held on the Magog warship, an impression strengthened by the sounds of far-off screeching. She put a hand to her force lance and whispered, "Rommie? Can you hear me?"
Nothing.
"Trance, Dylan?"
Nothing.
"Harper?"
"Tyr?"
Not. Good.