[ Adriana watched behind the impassive tinted visor of her helmet as chairs and even tables shift and slide backward. Magnetic strips on the heels of her boots of her Mark V powered assault armor charged and clamped shut to the floor of the mess hall. She stood a stolid statue against the inertia, idly wondering if she even needed to use her mag-boots in the first place. Ahead of her, someone else meandering around the mess catches her attention. He had that ex-military affectation to him if the close cropped hair and size were any indication. She watched him stumble around curiously until he came towards her on the collision course that was his awkwardly trying to right himself against gravity itself. ]
Careful.
[ A heavy, Slavic accent says as a massive hand clamps around his forearm. This over seven foot tall, silvery-grey behemoth could have been mistaken for part of the background for having not moved an inch until that very moment. ]
on the moira
Careful.
[ A heavy, Slavic accent says as a massive hand clamps around his forearm. This over seven foot tall, silvery-grey behemoth could have been mistaken for part of the background for having not moved an inch until that very moment. ]