Kurt Hummel
19 October 2012 @ 12:09 am
say you love someone more than anything, and thinking about them helps you get through every day while you're stuck, say, on a haunted evil spaceship

and then they do something horrible to you

do you forgive it or do you move on? and if you move on what will you think about then?
 
 
miss irene adler.
19 October 2012 @ 01:41 am
[ a rare video post. irene's wearing her tweed suit, hair twisted elegantly up on the top of her head. and she's smoking a pipe while she perches at the end of the bed. not her bed, because even though the camera's tight in on her face, the scraps of paper on the wall most certainly aren't something irene adler would indulge in.

her decorating habits are much classier. ]


I've been here for eight jump cycles. Quite a bit longer than I'd ever anticipated, but what can really be done?

[ and it isn't as if irene has anything to go back to, but she's hardly about to say that. ]

Suppose I manage the next four and make it an even twelve. I wonder what one does to celebrate aboard a...spaceship.
 
 
Ygritte.
[ Why hello there, Tranquility. Starting off on the video feed, as the picture forms, is the redheaded, pyrotechnically-inclined Wildling, otherwise known as Ygritte. She's standing before Jon Snow's bed, upon which several medieval-looking weapons are strewn over the soft comforter.

Normally she'd be smiling, having been kept in a very good mood since the end of last month, but not so now—not after what she's recently seen, and heard that others have seen, in the depths of the ship. Her features are stern, lips pressed together firmly as she nods into the camera. Today, she is all business. ]



Space training's all well and good, don't take me th' wrong way.

But 'fter what we've seen—and I think many of you've seen things that y' normally wouldn't, in the last coupl'a weeks here, not just myself—I think it's time we had some other kind 'f training.

[ She holds this up, to show to the camera. ] This is a dagger. Carved m'self, entirely from ox bone. Meant for close-handed combat, not t' be used as anything but a last resort, if your enemy sneaks up on you. Pref'rably, y'want something with serrated edges such as this, t'do the bulk of the cutting—the edges will make sure that y'get tearing through the skin and sinew. Even if it's not steel and can't cut through bone, you can still give your enemy a fatal strike 'f you aim for his entrails. Kills 'em nice and slow.

[ She sets it down, and picks up another weapon lying nearby. ] This is an axe. Not just any ol' kind 'f axe, neither—this is a battle-axe. [ She grabs the haft, the handle of it, and swings it in the air to demonstrate. ] Arm-length, 'though they can be longer, but arm-length is good for throwin' too if need be. Some o' my clansmen wield one in each hand, for fightin'. Steel bit makes the blade lighter, easier t' swing—but we don't got much steel north o' the Wall, so many times we use wrought iron, which's heavier—but if y'swing good and true, it'll land a heavy blow. Can crack 'n undefended skull, easy.

An' lastly, the weapon you should be starting with, for longer-range—the shortbow. Mine's made o' weirwood, the trees most found o'er the Wall, and in the godswood o' Winterfell, I hear. [ A slight smirk, just a quirking upwards of her lips, before she schools her face seriously once more. ]

[ She notches a grey goosefeather-fletched arrow in it, drawing back the string to demonstrate. ] Only three feet long, rawhide string. Smaller size is common for us spearwives, since we tend t' be a bit shorter than the menfolk; but it's also easier t' maneuver around with, during a hunt, when y'need t' be light on your feet.

[ There's a quick thwap sound, as she looses the arrow and it sings through the air, landing hard in the wall on the far side of the room. ] Shoots fast an' hard, for a small bow.

[ Setting it down again on the bed, she addresses the video feed once more. ] If anyone'd like t' do some one-on-one training with any o' these, I'd be happy t' show you how it's done. [ She cracks a smile. ] Shit, bring your own weapon and we can practice in that ...indoor trainin' field, whatever 's called.

But I think it's important we learn t' defend ourselves, now...all 'f us. That goes for th' younger Starks, 's well. Any babe who's no longer on his mother's teat should be learnin' this.



[ ...because what is decorum, Ygritte. :/ ]
 
 
Loki Laufeyson
19 October 2012 @ 05:42 pm
I wish to speak of magic.

[Loki lifts a hand and a ball of green light appears in his palm.]

Some consider it a science, others mere...trickery...

An illusion but naught else.

[He breathes on to the orb and it cracks; veins of light jagging across its surface, then a small dragon starts to emerge, as if hatching.]

It is hard to consider magic in a place such as this, that feels so sterile and dark. But, I think, there are many among us who come from places where the arcane is not so alien.

And we long for that...

For some mystical light, to illuminate the darkness.

[He lowers his hands and the little dragon hovers in place, flapping its glowing wings.]

To give us wonder, once more.

Who here knows about magic, and its practice? And to whom is it naught but a lie.

[He frowns and waves his fingers through the dragon, causing it to dissolve.]

Miles, I already know your answer, so you need not respond.

((ooc: People who admit to knowing/using magic will go on Loki's "stalker list", just in case that is something you'd like to avoid.))
 
 
frodo  baggins,  ringbearer
19 October 2012 @ 08:41 pm
[ he's sitting in the oxygen gardens, a wooden pipe in his mouth and large white smoke-rings curling from the end of the pipe. there's an open book in his lap and there's a lingering weariness in his posture, despite how relaxed he seems.

still, when frodo speaks up, his voice is fond, light, moving his pipe away from his lips. ]


Where I come from, smoking pipeweed is considered an art. Making good smoke-rings like this--there's nothing quite like it.

[ frodo pauses; glances at his book then. ]


My dearest friend told me that he wondered if anything we've done would ever be put into 'great stories.'
"The stories that really mattered, that stayed with you."  As a lad I spent most of my life reading about stories, learning them and I'd always had my favorites with my Uncle. He went on a many great adventures.

[ he smiles quietly ]
Sometimes stories can be..quite different than we imagine them to be when we begin them. The same could be said of adventures.

Do you have a story like that? One that's stayed with you. Perhaps something you knew as a child, or one you found in a book. Perhaps it isn't a story but a moment that you've shared and relived with others over and over again. I'd be glad to hear them.