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3/5/2016 1:28:55 AM
1
In a tight corridor of the cruiser, a woman tosses a trophy knife repeatedly, a glass of whiskey in her other hand. Her face is rugged, withered, obviously been through hell; her hair raises high, ashen, swirling in prickling strands perverted by dust and dirt; her metal battle armor glints under the florescent lights. Tied to her waist band is a magnum, as big as the woman's head, a snake carved into the side sliding up the barrel. There is also a broadsword, an electric transmitter tied to its leather-bound hilt, the blade double-sided, chipped, and yellow like the sun. She is fixated on the knife, hypnotized, watching it repeatedly pass through the air.
English
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[b]Apollo raises an eyebrow and stops in his tracks. His eyes watch her carefully. Something about her made him feel very uncomfortable. Thankfully for him, each footstep of his made no noise. He was like a ghost. He decides it's one way or the other and that not saying anything is his best bet. He continues his gentle walk, approaching the woman.[/b]
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Edited by Veration: 3/5/2016 1:36:22 AMThe woman's undivided attention turns to the man of pale complexion with silent steps who moved through the ship like a phantom; he looked out of place. She catches her knife for the last time, sheathes it, and walks to the man. "New recruit? You look out of place. I can show you your division, if you want."
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[i]"No... You misunderstand, miss. I don't belong here. I'm from the Lunaic Monastery on Dioxol. I was trying to send a message but the machine broke and now..."[/i] [b]His gentle voice trails off. He seemed bewildered and upset despite his kind smile and bright eyes.[/b]
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"Ah, that sucks. Where is that place? Never heard of it, at least it's not on my Etha-O-Matic." The woman pulls up a small calculator like device, searching the aforementioned place. No luck. "Damn. Prefect better get that revised version out soon."
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[i]"It's a same pale moon near a large gas giant. My teacher would no more about than I do. His name is Damièn... A great man. He started the Monastery to provide safety for our kind. Dictatorship almost ran is into the ground. There's not many left and we keep the moon hidden as best we can."[/i] [b]Zion seems all to willing to say anything. Though, he doubts she could ever find her way there.[/b] [i]"Anyhow... I shouldn't be here..."[/i]
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She looks up at him plainly, smirking slightly. "Then leave."
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[i]"I'm not sure how... I am not good with machines..."[/i]
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Dahlia sighs, blowing hair out of her face. "I'm not very good either. Guess that means you're stuck here, then. May as well get aquatinted."
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[b]He gives a meek smile and holds out a gloved hand.[/b] [i]"Well, then I am Zion... Pleasure, miss."[/i] [b]He was polite... Very formal. He seemed too innocent for a place like this. Though his height and quiet disposition also seemed threatening and ominous.[/b]
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Dahlia shakes it very firmly, smiling. "Dahlia Silverjaw, professional mercenary and bitch."
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[i]"Right... So I take we are now friends...?"[/i] [b]Zion quickly withdraws his hand and pushes his hair back.[/b]
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Dahlia nods, her hand sweeping in an arc as to signify the whole ship. "I'd believe so, yes. I can bring you on a tour of the ship, if you want."
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[b]He shrugs, causing his toga to slump over his shoulder revealing a a long string of tattoos around his collar bones and shoulders. He adjusts and gives a curt nod.[/b] [i]"Ready to follow, Dahlia."[/i] [b]He gives a warm smile, full of joy and kindness.[/b]
