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thisavrou_ooc2015-09-12 11:32 pm
hownkai) wrote in thisavrou_ooc2015-09-12 11:32 pm
Entry tags:
TDM 2
Whether adjusting to space travel has been difficult or not, there is always something to be done. From working to leisure, the Moira offers a multitude of opportunities to get to know your crewmates a bit better. Exploration of the ship is highly encouraged, but as another planet grows closer to being docked, things start to get a little hectic. You'll notice a slight change in the artificial gravity as the Moira is pulled into the planet's gravitational field; however, more noticeable changes can be found in the overall morale as you prepare to descend.
☄ in the mess hall:
Things have been pretty smooth sailing thus far. There haven't been any unexpected horrors or accidents, and no one has gone missing. Later in the evening, you find yourself hungry and decide to check out what's on the menu. Making your way toward the mess hall, you discover that the door is closed and a sign has been posted directly in the center. It reads:
We don't know who did this or why, but action will be taken if it is not fixed immediately.
At the bottom, in very small print, it is signed by the captains. Venturing inside, you find something irregular about the room, and it's not what you might have thought. Finding the culprit, however, is hardly on anyone's mind. In fact, the kitchen has been closed until everything on the tables has been "fixed". Decadent foods and desserts from many of the planets explored in the past are laid out like a feast. There might even be liquor, but who knows how strong that stuff is. Consider this a thank you for all the hard work and effort you've put forth as a valuable crew member. Whoever said the mess hall wasn't for messes was sadly misinformed! It's party time.
☄ on your own:
There are plenty of other communal areas on the ship to explore! Pick a place, and see where it takes you.
Unlike some of the previously found planets, this one is populated. However, the majority of the natives are located in one central area near a very large body of water. At some point, it might have been a lake, but due to some abnormal constructional designs, it has been transformed into a well-maintained connection of underwater cities. Still, accessing them may prove to be difficult. Your MID warns of no pollutants in either the air or water. Yet, it has problems translating the language spoken between these humanoid beings—if they even speak at all. Most of them appear friendly, more than welcoming, but what's to be said about someone (or something) that doesn't wish to talk?
☄ the submerged:
I would like to be the air that inhabits you for a moment. I would like to be that unnoticed and that necessary.
Exploring the surrounding areas, which consist of marshes and some small trees, doesn't yield much. There are little resources and no fauna to speak of. The natives continue to lure whoever dares to follow closer to the water, their gestures open and curious. There is nothing to hint at the dangers that await anyone who wanders within arm's length of the shore, and if you do... Hopefully you weren't traveling alone and a friend is there to attempt dragging you away from the tight grip of the thing suddenly yanking you into the murk of that lake. They will fight to keep you, sink their hands and fins deep enough to draw blood; it calls more of them up from the depths to bring you down. For they need you like air, are desperate to call you their own, and if you surrender, how are you to ever describe the the last thing you see?
Is that what happened to the all those ships found crashed here and there, buried beneath mud and moss? Is this what became of the people aboard them? How ironic the dead say even less than the things that got you.
Exploring the surrounding areas, which consist of marshes and some small trees, doesn't yield much. There are little resources and no fauna to speak of. The natives continue to lure whoever dares to follow closer to the water, their gestures open and curious. There is nothing to hint at the dangers that await anyone who wanders within arm's length of the shore, and if you do... Hopefully you weren't traveling alone and a friend is there to attempt dragging you away from the tight grip of the thing suddenly yanking you into the murk of that lake. They will fight to keep you, sink their hands and fins deep enough to draw blood; it calls more of them up from the depths to bring you down. For they need you like air, are desperate to call you their own, and if you surrender, how are you to ever describe the the last thing you see?
Is that what happened to the all those ships found crashed here and there, buried beneath mud and moss? Is this what became of the people aboard them? How ironic the dead say even less than the things that got you.
For mature or graphic content, please label. Test Drive Memes are not game canon but can be used as samples in applications. For questions, please direction them to the FAQ. As always, be kind and have fun!
[ art credit ]
no subject
[ before the word's fully out, the meaning hits her and she can't help but smile at the thought. to any human, the meat would be perfectly well done, but to a wild creature even lightly charring a hunk of raw meat would be overdoing it.
which makes her wonder why the dragon's here, and what benefit it could provide the crew of the moira with. pure strength? some sort of shapeshifting skill? something completely different. there's a lot she hasn't figured out yet, too many holes still left empty.
all questions best saved for a later day though. ]
You might be able to ask for something uncooked from the kitchen.
[ not that she's tried any sort of similar request yet, but it seems worth a shot. ]
no subject
Starflight perked up, looking hopeful.]
You think? I mean, this is fine, I wouldn't want to bother anyone, it's not like I don't like cooked food or anything it just seems unusual that there's so much of it. It's a lot of effort and doesn't seem to have a lot of benefits unless it's done really well.
no subject
[ whether the request'll be granted, or if they can even find whoever's in charge of food preparation, is another matter entirely, but if she's learned anything in her life thus far, it's that doing nothing garners no results.
although....ah, maybe she should address the other point that was made. ]
Most of us humans [ is that the correct term here? ] get sick if we eat raw meat, so that's why we cook it first. But it should be possible to find some that's uncooked.
[ now, which way to the kitchens....? ]
no subject
Really? I was actually trying to work out a similar problem before I got brought to the Moira but it was a much more extreme case regarding how certain dragons can survive on carrion but not others and how that links to their style of hunting, but I never imagined scavengers- er, sorry, 'humans' [He corrected himself. The captains had given him a run down on the terminology when he came aboard].
That humans would be so delicate. That does explain some of what I read about their- your? hunting habits and why they always seem to have small fires going at their dens even after the Scorching. There was always a lot of debate over that in the scrolls I read, since most dragons though they would be afraid of fire.
[ Starflight didn't notice he'd started rambling, but he tended to get carried away when talking about theories and the different scrolls he'd read. ]
no subject
the thought leaves a bitter taste in her mouth, but now isn't the time to dredge up old memories, not when they won't benefit her in any way. there's information to be gathered here and to be honest, the dragon's enthusiasm is catching. ]
The Scorching? [ that's a term she's never heard before. ] Is that something that happened, or a ritual of some sort?
no subject
When she asked about the Scorching though his momentary exuberance deflated. He shrunk back, head lowered. ]
Er- well, you see, the Scorching was a major historical event, when the first dragons banded together to attack the humans that were killing them for their treasure. There, um, weren't many that survived. It's rare to see any these days. On Pyrrhia, that is. Not here, at least, I imagine. Not- um, not counting the crew, I mean. Obviously.
[ He was getting increasingly flustered, rushing through the sentences. The last thing he wanted was for the humans on board to think he was dangerous and attack him. Or realize that until he had come aboard and been given a translator it had never occurred to him humans were intelligent enough that he could be having a conversation with one. ]