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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.
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[ art credit ]
no subject
It's all he can do not to let those feelings, those thoughts, take over. He has to force himself to act normal, grabbing himself a sandwich and the closest thing here to a beer, his gait casual and unbothered. His attention is solely on her, even if it looks like he's looking for a place to sit, finally stops beside her table. The smile he offers is weak and a little unsure, behind the false confidence. She'll see it or she won't. She'll know him by more than reputation or she won't.]
This seat taken?
no subject
no subject
He sits down, sets his plate on the table in front of him, and doesn't touch the food.] Like I could ever hide from you.
I just... didn't know you were here.