juniberries: (more anime sweating and drama)
[personal profile] juniberries
Has anyone here ever woken from a dream that...felt too long and too real, to the point where it MUST have happened?

Because for awhile, it truly seemed like I was back in my universe. But then I woke and
Well
I am still here. But I do not feel the same.


[PRIVATE TO LANCE, PIDGE, KEITH] )
whillful: (sunset prayer)
[personal profile] whillful
I have arrived in a time of much uncertainty, but I wish to share with you a truth known among my people that has not yet spread throughout the Eluvio. Look to the Force, that which connects all life, and you will come to understand there is no need for fear for all is as the Force wills.

[ His speech is confident and firm, though it takes a more conversational tone when he continues. ]

I am Chirrut Îmwe, and I hope that, in trade, you will humor a blind man. I would like to hear the impressions others have of this place. What do you see? The races that live here, the structure of the ship? I would like to know it through your eyes.

May the Force be with you.
ex_forcechoke292: (Default)
[personal profile] ex_forcechoke292
First off, whoever built these buckets of bolts in the hangar bay need to be let go. This is what happens when you let factories churn out garbage in large numbers: who's quality checking?

[He is. He's been here all of a few days, and he's already sequestered in the hangar, lamenting (loudly) over the sad state of automated affairs. This is where the video starts: he has the communicator propped up a short distance away as he's digging into the mechanics of one of the robots that had glitched out and come to a jerking halt with a wrench still clenched in its hand.

He mutters something about matrices before finally looking back up. This isn't the real point behind the message, regardless of how distracted he currently seems.]


Sad state of mechanical affairs aside, I have a question. [He sounds suddenly hesitant, as if he honestly doesn't want to ask it at all. He even rolls his shoulders back uncomfortably, before taking a long, deliberate breath.] I'm looking for a sparring partner. Swordsmanship proficiency if I can find it.

[Hoping against hope, but he doesn't sound too hopeful at all. As far as he knows, those who can really challenge him in this area are all back home, and neither side of that equation has a way to get back to the other... yet.]

Might as well make the most of being stuck out here, anyway.
dadandgone: (What the Hell)
[personal profile] dadandgone
And...yeah I think that's right...

[The camera feed starts at an odd angle. Maes holding the communicator in such a way that it's clear he's very new to using it. He is looking intently at the screen and then back at the directions held clearly in his other hand. Yes, he's actually using the friendly directions to help. He doesn't seem to notice at first that he's gotten it to video mode though, which probably gives his audience time to notice that he's in the recovery ward. Honestly how different can hospitals/medical bays look in space? Even Maes realized where he was as soon as he opened his eyes.

Speaking of, he's now turned his gaze back to the screen and seems to finally realize that the camera is recording. He smiles -- though if anyone really knew him they'd probably be able to tell it's about as strained as they come. As he starts to speak he manages to adjust the angle so it's not as crooked.
]

Oh hello. Lt. Col. Maes Hughes reporting. I just woke up and they told me I can't leave the recovery ward yet, but that I might enjoy passing the time getting to know other people on this ship. I hope you all don't mind, I'll try not to poke too far back in the logs or anything. I'm not even sure I'd know how, honestly.

[There isn't a lot for him to do since he's been ordered to stay in the recovery bay for a little longer. He might even appear a little pale now that people watching can see him more clearly.]

I have to say now though that I'm not even really sure where to begin past giving my name. We don't have anything like this where I'm from so usually conversations would be a bit more immediate. You know, face to face or over the telephone. But I guess I could look at it as writing a letter...except that's not really accurate either, is it?

[He shakes his head. Focus, Hughes.]

Right, so who wants to swap stories? I apparently missed out on the real fun of orientation around here. Really just anyone can talk about anything...just get my mind off of the fact that I'm stuck in a hospital in space.

[The camera shakes a little in Maes's hand, but he steadies his grip. Come on, Maes, you're better at keeping your composure than that]
amelioraate: ([ comic ] black and blue)
[personal profile] amelioraate
[ When the feed click on, Tony manages to look annoyed and impressed all at once (you know, those emotions that he manages to bring out in other people pretty much all the time). He is sitting at a desk, the communicator propped up against something, and he has a small screwdriver (the micro kind) between his teeth as he speaks.]

So just how much shit am I going to get in if I try to take this apart and merge it with my Stark Phone? Not that I really care about how much shit I get in, but-- I mean, it is shiny new alien tech and you just gave it to me, you gotta know I'm gonna try taking it apart.

[ And figuring out ways to hack it. And make it better. And--

He takes the micro screwdriver out of his mouth and flashes a sharp smile.]


Also, as far as kidnappings go, this has gotta be one of the nicer ones, so no complaints here. Though I gotta know; anywhere I can get my hands on some more tools? Maybe a spare communicator, or three, or maybe an interface with the ship's core navigational systems...

[ That last one is said with only the slightest hint of 'I'm kidding' (because he isn't kidding, he is going to look for one no matter how much he has already been told 'NO', that's just like taunting him ok).]

Oh, and where might I find alcohol? Is that a thing in this section of space? I hope it is because I really don't want to try distilling my own shit again, that was a disaster the first three times and I really don't think I have managed to get better.
estrayer: (s t a r e)
[personal profile] estrayer
[ The video opens on a blond boy dressed in black. The collar of his t-shirt and shoulders of his leather jacket are visible. A dark mark somewhere between a bruise and a tattoo sweeps across the right side of his neck. His eyes are intense, but he's making an effort at a smile. A terse one. Jace Wayland has had better days.

Actually he's had better weeks. Let's not talk about that. Instead, there's something more pressing on his mind:
]

Do we have to keep the jobs we get here? I'm supposed to write greeting cards.

[ His deadpan tone should tell you everything you need to know about what he thinks of that. Greeting cards, as in poetry, right? Jace isn't exactly a greeting card kind of guy, but if he was, his eyes would roll right over the ones with fake cheese and rhyming couplets inside. This is so clearly not for him. ]

I'm taking other suggestions. Bonus points if they don't come with wearing that thing.

[ He turns his wrist to flash the camera over the suit lying on the bed beside him. It has purple stripes and matching boots, guys, come on.

Not to worry, though, the camera's back on Jace now. He's sure you all missed him.
]

That aside. I'm gonna be open about the fact that I'm not looking to be a permanent resident, so if anyone's looking into how we get out of this place, I'd like to hear from you. If you've been here a while, I want to hear about that, too.

By the way, I'm Jace. I'm new, but you probably guessed that. Thanks for your time.

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