[Incomplete] A hell of a survey
Who: Nhadala, Rikku, Paine. (NRP?)
When: Shortly after this post.
Where: The hospital.
Rating: PG-13 for now; will likely increase.
Warnings: Profanity. Also her horrible coat which is a warning all its own.
Summary: AFK, going exploring, BBS!
Maybe it was genetic. The compulsion to explore, that was. Or maybe it more a Nhadala thing. She'd always had itchy feet. Even here, even when she was presumably dead. She had to poke around in every last nook and cranny. There was no breaking her of the habit.
Roping Paine and Rikku into it only made it sweeter.
Nhadala was dressed in her horrible coat, covered in garish black lines and tacky skulls, and over her shoulder she'd slung a makeshift messenger bag fashioned from a grungy sheet. When she moved, it swayed and gave off the tell-tale soft clink of the random useful bits she'd brought along, almost inaudiable. Most notably among those was wired-together peices of metal that were in the vague shape of a pickax-crowbar-shovel bastard, which she hefted in her right hand.
If there was one thing she was really pissed off about (aside from Pilot getting away with not paying up the money he owed her from all those games of poker), it was the loss of her shovel. She'd made that hot baby herself, all of it. From the cherry-wood handle, equally good at not-so-gently poking sense into stubborn leaders and wanging new diggers more interested in digging in her cleavage over the head to the sharpened metal buisiness end. Even welded that part, she did. And she had a burn scar to prove it, right on her ass. Long story as to how exactly that had happened. In short, Rin'd had a good smirk at it, though he had also been kind enough to offer up bandages and salve - and a mandatory lewd comment. Bastard.
She'd been just fifteen, then. Over ten years ago. She wondered if her hair would start turning white soon.
Say what you would about Nhadala (and there was a lot to say, depending on who you were), but she wasn't stupid. Rather, she was quite ready to take on the challenge. She hadn't been made forewoman for one of the most important and massive digs in Al Bhed history for nothing, after all.
It would be an enjoyable excursion. As long as nothing ate one of them for lunch. Nah, that wouldn't happen. They could take care of anything that came their way.
The hospital loomed in front of her like Sin itself, though it was decidedly less grotesque. Just at a quick glance, it was apparent to her seasoned eyes that it had seem recent Human (or Guado, or Al Bhed, or whatever) activity. Damn.
"Well, we'll just have to climb higher then won't we," said the Al Bhed woman, to no one in particular, as she wiped her goggles on her duster.
When: Shortly after this post.
Where: The hospital.
Rating: PG-13 for now; will likely increase.
Warnings: Profanity. Also her horrible coat which is a warning all its own.
Summary: AFK, going exploring, BBS!
Maybe it was genetic. The compulsion to explore, that was. Or maybe it more a Nhadala thing. She'd always had itchy feet. Even here, even when she was presumably dead. She had to poke around in every last nook and cranny. There was no breaking her of the habit.
Roping Paine and Rikku into it only made it sweeter.
Nhadala was dressed in her horrible coat, covered in garish black lines and tacky skulls, and over her shoulder she'd slung a makeshift messenger bag fashioned from a grungy sheet. When she moved, it swayed and gave off the tell-tale soft clink of the random useful bits she'd brought along, almost inaudiable. Most notably among those was wired-together peices of metal that were in the vague shape of a pickax-crowbar-shovel bastard, which she hefted in her right hand.
If there was one thing she was really pissed off about (aside from Pilot getting away with not paying up the money he owed her from all those games of poker), it was the loss of her shovel. She'd made that hot baby herself, all of it. From the cherry-wood handle, equally good at not-so-gently poking sense into stubborn leaders and wanging new diggers more interested in digging in her cleavage over the head to the sharpened metal buisiness end. Even welded that part, she did. And she had a burn scar to prove it, right on her ass. Long story as to how exactly that had happened. In short, Rin'd had a good smirk at it, though he had also been kind enough to offer up bandages and salve - and a mandatory lewd comment. Bastard.
She'd been just fifteen, then. Over ten years ago. She wondered if her hair would start turning white soon.
Say what you would about Nhadala (and there was a lot to say, depending on who you were), but she wasn't stupid. Rather, she was quite ready to take on the challenge. She hadn't been made forewoman for one of the most important and massive digs in Al Bhed history for nothing, after all.
It would be an enjoyable excursion. As long as nothing ate one of them for lunch. Nah, that wouldn't happen. They could take care of anything that came their way.
The hospital loomed in front of her like Sin itself, though it was decidedly less grotesque. Just at a quick glance, it was apparent to her seasoned eyes that it had seem recent Human (or Guado, or Al Bhed, or whatever) activity. Damn.
"Well, we'll just have to climb higher then won't we," said the Al Bhed woman, to no one in particular, as she wiped her goggles on her duster.