sojournerdeep | Entries tagged with !arrival

It isn't the voice itself that brings Dorian out of his standby mode, but the tiny itching prompt running along his neocortex like little specks of light. It suggests, in the dry, jagged tones of someone he's come to respect and count as a friend, to update your files.

( Read more... )

bladework

The last thing Billy sees -- the last thing he looks at -- is Goodie's flask. It's been thrown clear out of Billy's waistcoat, punctured through and through with a bullet hole, and that's how Billy knows he's dying. No metal flask is sturdy enough to stop a bullet fired from a Gatling gun -- which means the bullet's in his chest now, in his heart, assuming it's stayed in his body at all.

( Billy's not sure he'd be able to feel whether or not there was an exit wound, even if it mattered. )

killerangel

He feels the ground hit him, slamming into him harder than the bullets. It's the last thing he feels, or expects to feel, and he closes his eyes and expects the pain to carry him away--but it doesn't. He's left with the ground, which is solid under his back and shoulders, and... darkness, complete darkness. That doesn't shock him either; the pain being gone, he admits, is more of a surprise. But then again he's heard what men say about the last few seconds between life and death, in the case that you're afforded them. Goodnight Robicheaux closes his eyes and prepares--he supposes--to meet his maker.

( Trouble is, his maker is a little late. )

badwithhumans

RIGHT

ABDUCTING A BRIGADIER IS PUNISHABLE BY, LET'S SEE HERE, FLOGGING, DEATH, FINES, DEATH, FIRE-WORM INTRODUCTION INTO THE GROIN, DEATH, YOUR BEING TURNED OVER TO USE IN THE BOTANICAL GARDENS AS MULCH, DEATH, DEATH, AND ALSO SOME DEATH.

SO WHOSE FISH-FELCHING IDEA IS THIS AND WHAT IN ALL BUGGERING BLISTERS HAVE YOU PUT INTO MY HEAD, YOU DEVELOPMENTALLY CHALLENGED PUS-BAG?

I'M ONLY GOING TO ASK NICELY ONCE.

[The user name sending this message is listed as 'HowAboutFuckOff.']

rlyprivateperson

There is a fountain here, and there are birds.

Harold Finch sits on the fountain's lip, heavily, watching the birds in distraction from his own helplessly spinning thoughts. They're not any species he knows. Vividly colored to be sure, a bit like tanagers perhaps with very long tail feathers. There's a mob of them darting and singing and screeching between some tree that is also alien to him (though he's never claimed to be a botanist. The waters of the fountain are beautiful, and they also seem to be operating in a way that neatly defies gravity-- circling in a loop of water that simply-- floats-- which on some other day would have him staring in utter fascination, trying to uncover the trick, so forth and so forth.

( Right now... )

altus_pavus

It's a nice room, the one he wakes up in. He's stretched out on a lovely divan, clad in the most exquisite brocade. It's a room he could stay in for quite some time, given half a chance. It's certainly better than his current prospects - perhaps there'll be a warm bed to crawl into at the end of the night, provided they find a way back to the present time.

That is to say, not the present future they're stuck in. The horrendous future, where red lyrium spreads to take over entire wings of Redcliffe castle. Where one of his countrymen made everyone's preconceptions about Tevinter mages come true - one of the foolish mages who think the ends justify all means you can think of.

( It's a big, hard, bitter pill to swallow. No wonder his head aches. )

thereisnochaos

The last time Obi-Wan had found himself waking in a strange place, things had been much less . . . formal. He'd woken on the floor, with a cheap duffel bag sitting beside him and a few light provisions. This room was bright and metallic, and he was immediately greeted with a warm, mild voice -- a man? a woman? otherwise? -- attempting to ease his concerns. It did, admittedly; Obi-Wan, for all his efforts to be comfortable with the meanest of furnishings and the simplest of attire, took a certain comfort in the familiarity of good technology. ( This place was more advanced. )

breakeggs_savelives

It's dark. Pitch black. A quiet, insistent hum churns away in the background, like waves, or insects in a dead body. The sound rolls like the sea, but inside his head, like chanting in yoga class.

Zen...

He's never had much luck achieving zen, except in the field. On the battlefield he's surrounded by an invisible aura of the three big c's - Cool, Calm, Collected. Nothing can touch him there. He gets the job done, and he gets it done good. Nothing stands in his way that he can't work around or monster truck through.

( It's dark. Pitch black. And then it isn't anymore. )

likegrier

( She lingers at the door for a momment...embarrased by the state of herself. )

chainsarebroken

“Welcome, traveler.”

Waking up in a strange place always begins with an inventory: functioning toes, arms, spine, check. Lightsaber, check. Wits, probably. That’s almost everything. Anakin Skywalker sits up and touches his flesh-and-blood hand to his temple with a grimace and looks around himself, first for dangers, then for Obi-Wan Kenobi. Neither immediately present themselves. It’s just as well, if he’s been captured--again--that his master hasn’t been captured alongside him. Of course, after a fashion, it would also be convenient if he were. But that’s no reason to wish it upon the man.

The tinny droid-sounding voice is still saying something. Anakin’s not really listening; he’s getting to his feet, testing his balance, cracking the knuckles of his left hand. The room has the inoffensive dimensions of a hotel room, not a prison cell, but Anakin’s come to distrust what prison cells do and don’t look like. There are no immediate exits: not even barred ones, just no immediate exits, smooth wall all around. That’s unusual. He powers on his lightsaber--without immediate intent to use it, even, just to see if it works--takes mild, somewhat warlike comfort in its usual hum. Then it occurs to him that someone has knocked him out cold and abducted him (again!) and, again, not bothered to deprive him of his lightsaber.

( That’s not comforting, for all the usual reasons. )

Sojourner Deep - Panfandom RPG

Entries tagged with !arrival

[Arrival log! Open as soon as he steps out from the Room]

[Location: Arrival Plaza][closed to Long, Goodie]

[Location: Arrival Plaza]

[Voice]

[Location] - a central park

[Location: Arrival plaza] [Open] The night is long, and the path is dark...

[Location: Arrival Plaza] [Open] always on the move . . .

[Location: Arrival Plaza] [Network] [Open] Birds flying high, you know how I feel

[Location - Arrival Plaza] [Open] New Blood

[Location: Arrival Plaza] [ETA: Closed] to everything turn, turn, turn

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