Snowdrift: *helpless groan; good thing Cryos is absorbed in her work + not listening* Please tell me you're doing what I think you're doing--I was skinned before, and I'd rather not be skinned again, especially now that I'm getting closer to being me again. *drops voice* Still, good to know someone's got the bearings to set their own pace--wouldn't believe how many murders Capt's got on her scorecard for that, but I like watching others skirt the line.
*still quietly* Quick thing: Capt won't murder you for now--she needs you; you're useful, and she's invested in you and your abilities. As soon as this job's over, though, she might. Her blaster punches through armor plating as if it were tin foil; her parasol/poison-dart-gun's been the violent, pain-filled death of many a victim. I'm sure you could take her, maybe even beat her one-on-one, but if she calls for us, we'll rip you apart. After this job is over, be ready to fight.
[His optics barely glance at her.] Interesting advice from the would-be enemy. [pause; he seems absorbed in the controls before him] But you're wasting your intake. I don't trust anyone.
[He types a few commands into the console and the ship begins to respond. Navigational coordinates input, the ship heads in that direction. Another set of commands set the speed at a high velocity; the final lock the ship in auto-pilot. He sits down and leans back heavily into the chair; his optics close and he seems highly relaxed, and close to an unintentional recharge.]
Snowdrift: Eh, so I'm nice. Whatever. [looks around; Cryos is buried in plans + frantically scribbling torture methods on a board while half-smiling, while Glacies is quietly sweeping the deck + sterilizing a multitude of Cryos's 'tools of the trade'.] ... *throws arms out* I live with crazy people. *walks off to her bunk* G'night. *to Cryos* Capt, I'm on break. *whispers to Quickstrike* Recharge with an optic open. Glacies recharge-walks, and Capt likes to practice her firearms proficiency by shooting at anything she sets optics on. [reads the screen, but doesn’t comment] ...
We've talked to the animal, let's talk to the driven-mad gofer...pyrospectacleFebruary 27 2009, 04:19:51 UTC
Snowdrift: Smart. La-ter. *leaves to her room*
[With Snowdrift gone, all that can be heard is Cryos's mad scribbling + quickened pacing around her work area, mutters not even barely audible. Oddly enough, the sweeping has stopped, and Glacies has decided to make herself known. She slowly steps towards the other set of ship controls while polishing what looks like a large poker--except with far more pointy add-ons; no guesses as to who that monstrosity belongs to--and sits in the seat.]
Whee, indeed. *Note: Long-@$$ post*pyrospectacleFebruary 27 2009, 06:20:05 UTC
Glacies: ... [pulls out a photo; it's a little worn around the edges, but it appears to have been kept as intact as possible. The pic itself is of a very pretty young femme, sun-colored, with splashes of white and pale aqua-blue, giddily smiling at the camera.] ... *whimpers* ... *looks from the pic to 'Strike + whimpers again* [A long pause occurs before Glacies gets up the nerve to speak.] ...sh-she, she was young. And pretty, real pretty; model-pretty... Pretty, pretty, pretty...everyone wants to be good-looking. To be good-looking is to be noticed, to be loved, to be a star...and who doesn’t want to be famous? *shakes head + absently scratches herself* This, thi--*points to pic*--it, it's, th-this, this is not me. It's not me, no one knows me, not, not anymore, and, and this *points again* is not me. *stares sadly at the pic* ...i's Snowflake. *pauses* Wh-why...? Why didn't...? She... *twitches* Wha-I, I know, y‘know, y’know, I, I tried to warn her, about the inning and the outing, and the, and the pick-pick-pick, and the, and the
( ... )
[His optics shutter closed once in a blink at the photo. His first thought is that the tech involved with making it is old. His second is that the bot in the picture isn't too bad looking. He'd definitely hit it.]
[He looks up; his expression is blank bordering on bored.] Pity.
Okay, she's not completely far-gone, but this is a precarious mental state, yes?pyrospectacleMarch 5 2009, 07:40:30 UTC
Glacies: *sad expression, wavering voice* I know. Wish she was here. *shakes head* But she's not. [She puts away the photo carefully] *mumbling quickly* Antiques and their like are so troublesome to preserve, but sentimental value is aesthetically acceptable, and aesthetics are a moral imperative, like preserving public safety and establishing standards of decency and not talking in the theaters during the films... *continues babbling to herself* ...and Snowflake I miss you why'd you have to do that why why why why why...
[twitches, shudders, then composes/straightens herself + stands up] *deadpan* Need to be alone. [hands 'Strike a tranquilizer rifle, some heavy-duty sedative, and a poster-sized image of Dazzle] In case of emergency. First two are for any of us, the last's for the Captain only. *pause* ...You're supposed to throw the poster somewhere else, not at her...then you run. Don't reload--you'll waste the clip. *another pause* ...Galley fridge has leftovers if you want. 'Night. *walks away
( ... )
Not personally, but I watched my best friend play + my mind still exploded w/ the awesomeness.pyrospectacleMarch 5 2009, 21:50:12 UTC
Glacies: Yeah. [leaves; the dragging of her feet makes Cryos stop and look for a few clicks.]
Cryos: *sternly* Dragging your feet is poor manners and another beastly posture habit. Stop that, and walk properly, as befitting the civilized creature you should be.
[At this point, Glacies breaks down into sobbing, which prompts Snowdrift to quickly run into the room, sling the hysterical Glacies over her shoulders, who's frantically babbling while sobbing, and run back out, all without a word.]
Cryos: ... [and the smallest of sadistic half-smiles is visible on her face.]
((Yep. Cryos did that on purpose, we all know it.))
I think it's actually said in the game, but I'd have to double-check that.pyrospectacleMarch 6 2009, 02:36:18 UTC
[And meanwhile, Cryos has returned to her work table, meaning she will be unresponsive to the rest of the world until she wakes from being passed out some long while later. Thus, 'Strike doesn't have to worry too much about a murder attempt...not right now, anyway. Maybe later, as a failed attempt + as part of later plot development]
((It's nice to know he has standards. Also, wrap? I ran out of stuff to say.))
It's written in blood on the floor.silvrquikstrikeMarch 6 2009, 03:53:04 UTC
((It's also kind of odd--but he votes he gets to kill Cryos when the time comes. I keep trying to tell him to sit down and be quiet, wait his damn time, and be patient. Feh. 'Cons. -shrugs helplessly-))
*still quietly* Quick thing: Capt won't murder you for now--she needs you; you're useful, and she's invested in you and your abilities. As soon as this job's over, though, she might. Her blaster punches through armor plating as if it were tin foil; her parasol/poison-dart-gun's been the violent, pain-filled death of many a victim. I'm sure you could take her, maybe even beat her one-on-one, but if she calls for us, we'll rip you apart. After this job is over, be ready to fight.
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[He types a few commands into the console and the ship begins to respond. Navigational coordinates input, the ship heads in that direction. Another set of commands set the speed at a high velocity; the final lock the ship in auto-pilot. He sits down and leans back heavily into the chair; his optics close and he seems highly relaxed, and close to an unintentional recharge.]
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[With Snowdrift gone, all that can be heard is Cryos's mad scribbling + quickened pacing around her work area, mutters not even barely audible. Oddly enough, the sweeping has stopped, and Glacies has decided to make herself known. She slowly steps towards the other set of ship controls while polishing what looks like a large poker--except with far more pointy add-ons; no guesses as to who that monstrosity belongs to--and sits in the seat.]
Glacies: ...Hello.
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[pause] ...What's your story?
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[He looks up; his expression is blank bordering on bored.] Pity.
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[twitches, shudders, then composes/straightens herself + stands up] *deadpan* Need to be alone. [hands 'Strike a tranquilizer rifle, some heavy-duty sedative, and a poster-sized image of Dazzle] In case of emergency. First two are for any of us, the last's for the Captain only. *pause* ...You're supposed to throw the poster somewhere else, not at her...then you run. Don't reload--you'll waste the clip. *another pause* ...Galley fridge has leftovers if you want. 'Night. *walks away ( ... )
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((I tend to go with hologram/holo-photo. :3 Btw, have you ever played Bioshock?))
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Cryos: *sternly* Dragging your feet is poor manners and another beastly posture habit. Stop that, and walk properly, as befitting the civilized creature you should be.
[At this point, Glacies breaks down into sobbing, which prompts Snowdrift to quickly run into the room, sling the hysterical Glacies over her shoulders, who's frantically babbling while sobbing, and run back out, all without a word.]
Cryos: ... [and the smallest of sadistic half-smiles is visible on her face.]
((Yep. Cryos did that on purpose, we all know it.))
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He closes his optics again, boosts his other sensors to full, and fake-recycles for the time being.]
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((It's nice to know he has standards. Also, wrap? I ran out of stuff to say.))
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