002 [Holo -- Location: Cabin -- Home Sweet Pond]

May 06, 2009 19:18

So, he's gotten his 'orientation speech' and knows more or less what's going on. Or at least, he knows what everyone else seems to know about this place. Which is squat. But being the eternal optimist he is he is a hundred percent n-ninety-nine percent sure there is a way out of here. There is always a way out. Always. One way or another it will be ( Read more... )

{ river song, { jack o'neill

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[Visual] songofspoilers May 8 2009, 12:05:24 UTC
The archeologist in River can't get enough of the city. The varying periods of architecture are a minefield for research, hell there was even an 'ancient' (how ancient it actually is, is debatable) Egyptian pyramid on the west side. When she'd discovered it yesterday, the light had been failing. But today, dressed in dig clothes and boots, and her equipment strapped to her back, she'd been there at first light.

Now she's on the treck back home, after spending most of the day in archeologist heaven. She looks decidedly dusty, dirty and exhausted for it as she passes Jack's place, but content.

"I haven't got too many complaints either," she smiles, "your place, I take it?"

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islegendary May 8 2009, 22:03:07 UTC
Jack attracts archeologists, fact.

He looks up from his fishing when he hears a voice. He tips the brim of his ballcap back to get a better look. She looks like she could be a friend of Daniel's or colege at least.

"Yep, exactly like I left it..." he glances around, "That part is a little creepy if you ask me."

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songofspoilers May 11 2009, 17:09:20 UTC
"I know the feeling, my old house and the entire beach it was on, are here. Hadn't seen it over a year before I arrived." River says, taking in the surroundings and then offering a confident hand, vaguely wiping the dirt off on the seat of her pants first.

"Professor River Song."

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islegendary May 11 2009, 17:52:46 UTC
Jack is quite comfortable where he is, but he supposes he should get up for proper greetings. He sets his pole down and gets to his feet, he offers his usual friendly smile, "Colonel Jack O'Neill, U.S. Air Force. From two thousand three or four, not really sure. Spent a few months frozen."

He's not looking very colonel like at the moment though. He's completely out of uniform and in comfortable weekend clothes. The only clue that he's still military is the P-90 resting next to his fishing pole and the nine mil he has tucked in his waistband.

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