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2/26/2016 8:41:14 PM
52
The woman, her hair ashen and riddled with soot, sits down her quarters, swirling a glass of whiskey around repeatedly, staring at how the object reflects the tan liquid which sits inside. Her concentration on it is acute, eyes narrowed in, her perplexed. She slowly takes a sip from the glass, feeling the fiery drink slide down her dry throat, into the depths of her stomach. Her clock ticks, the red hand slowly inching forward as it hits the 4, 2 hours since she had initially sat down with her drink. Slowly returning from staring into space, she gets up, stretching her back and walking to the ship's bridge.
[spoiler]Open[/spoiler]
English
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The captain stood on the bridge talking to a man kitted out for battle. They appear to be discussing something very important.
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Dahlia listens in, the conversations piqueing her interest, though she does not move.
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The conversation was hushed, they were talking about the crew and dividing them into teams.
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[b]On your way to the bridge you see Angela leaning against a Gunship smoking a cigarette[/b]
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[b][i]Cephalon is seen, helping unload supply ahops[/i][/b]
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The woman, Dahlia, seems to quickly aknowledhe the presence of the man, turning away, pulling from her coat a fat Cuban cigar and a lighter, letting the ember of the steel contraption let her cigar glow. She inhales the smoke, then slowly lets it release from between her clenched lips.
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[b][i]You hear a voice from one of the speakers of the ship.[/i][/b] "Heh. New of a guy who loved those things."
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Her head rears to him, her eyes half open, twitching to close. "I'm not an addict, just like the taste."
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"Yeah. Just heard of a man. Aaron Saywer I think was the name. Can't remember well though."
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"Think I met him once. Scarred, bulging muscles, black greasy hair? A giant shotgun? Nice guy. Helped him out with a job."
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"Yeah, think that's him."
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"How do you know him, huh? Met him?"
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"Nah. I was told about him or something. Don't remember how exactly."
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"Damn right you should've, he was a hero. Everyone should be known about him."
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"Yeah, heard about some of the shit he did. Pretty cool."
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*she sees Silver making his way away from the bridge, who gives her a friendly wave when he sees her "Hi."-Silver
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The woman, Dahlia, seems to quickly aknowledhe the presence of the man, turning away, pulling from her coat a fat Cuban cigar and a lighter, letting the ember of the steel contraption let her cigar glow. She inhales the smoke, then slowly lets it release from between her clenched lips.
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[b]When she arrives at the bridge, there is an extremely tall figure standing in front of one of the windows. The figure has a huge sword laying across its back, around 10 feet in length. The figure is completely covered in a black plate armor, not even a single inch of skin or hair or anything really, that is visible. Its gender is unable to be distinguished from under the bulky armor. They clearly have noticed the woman's entrance, but they just keep staring out the window.[/b]
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The woman, Dahlia, seems to ignore the presence of the men (is it one or more? You said they at the end) and pulls from her coat a fat Cuban cigar and a lighter, letting the ember of the steel contraption let her cigar glow. She inhales the smoke, then slowly lets it release from between her clenched lips.
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[spoiler]I use it as a gender nonspecific term for characters that I want genders hidden.[/spoiler] "You know smoking's bad for you, right?" [b]The figure's voice is heavily distorted, and changes from high to low pitch constantly.[/b]
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[spoiler]Ah, gotcha.[/spoiler] She turns to him, a smirk plastered on her face, looking away at once, back over the bridge. She takes another puff of her cigar, then seemingly freezes in place. "I'm immune. Perks of being a foreign humanoid."
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[b]They turn their head to Dahlia.[/b] "What kind of humanoid?"
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"A Barton, of the Barton System. Humans with infertility, immunity to the effects of drugs and alcohol, and enchanted agility and reflexes. Y'know, the usual." She turns to him, now sitting on the railing of the bridge.
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"So you can't reproduce. Then how does your race continue on?"
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"We're born of the sand, not women. We crawl out of the crust of the Earth at a young age, skinless, naked."
