| What Lies Between Us |
| Summary: | Some Hestia folks ruminate on the things between the crews, most notably glass and space. |
| Date: | PH228 (02 Dec 2009) |
| Related Logs: | None. |
| Players: |
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BS Hestia, Deck 14, Observation Deck
IC Time: Post Holocaust Day #228
OOC Time: Wed Dec 02 16:41:49 2009
The lights in the Observation Deck are turned down low so that most of the room remains movie theatre darkened. To the left of the hatch, a viewport runs the length and near height of the room, and provides an expansive vista of the space to the fore of the Hestia. The view is always spectacular, particularly when in orbit of a planetary body. Sturdy blast doors close over the viewport when the ship is under alert, providing extra protection to the heavy ballistic glass. Plush blue love seats are arranged facing the view of space, with a few feet of space between, giving each a small sense of privacy.
The Observation Deck, one of the most popular venues on the ship itself, is usually liberally stocked with crew between shifts. Today is no different, though the maximum capacity isn't so much filled due to it also being dinner call in the Mess.
Vega Navarro, otherwise known as Punchout to her fellow air-wingers and most of the crew, is seated on a blue loveseat with her right leg propped up, still in a now familiar brace, and a cup of something in her hand. The mug is slightly steamy, so it's probably coffee-like.
In the very last row of loveseats, farthest away from the vista views of space, sits a particularly tall blonde woman. She's in her offduty threads, sitting up in her seat but leaning forward; one arm is around her belly, and the other hand pinches the brow of her nose. It's for a reason she's put herself so far to the back of the room and farthest away from the hatch.
Next to her on the loveseat is a well-worn sketchpad, and a small tin of charcoal pencils. Seems she had set out to act on her namesake…and had instead wound up here, pondering something. The light here is too low to draw, but it's the farthest thing on her mind, as Kharon drifts in and out of the observation window's view.
Coming in, dressed in what would appear to be his blacks is the Hestia's own S2. Though, the top of the fatigues are un buttoned- meaning someone got off patrol duty, or duty in general. He's not fond of the Khaki, nor is he really found of sitting around in his blues all day. Still This seems to be the first place where the Lieutenant is heading to. Complete with a battered pack of cigarettes in one hand, Bleu eyes scope out the view, or rather those who are in the room first. Priorities after all. as such, it leaves him lingering by the hatch for a few minutes.
Coming in, dressed in what would appear to be his blacks is the Hestia's own S2. Though, the top of the fatigue jacket is left un buttoned- meaning someone got off patrol duty, or duty in general. He's not fond of the Khaki, nor is he really found of sitting around in his blues all day. Still This seems to be the first place where the Lieutenant is heading to. Complete with a battered pack of cigarettes in one hand, Bleu eyes scope out the view, or rather those who are in the room first. Priorities after all. as such, it leaves him lingering by the hatch for a few minutes.
Vega lifts a small firearm in her hand, licks the barrel, and then points it at the viewport. CLICK! Such an ominous sound in the dark. A little suction cup arrow zooms in an arc to the viewport, and sticks with a suckery sticking to viewport sound. The power of the descriptors. Fear it. "Frak, I can't even hit a big ugly barge with a plastic gun from all the way up here."
The sound of the springs clicking and the dart hitting the thick glass with a fairly meaty slap causes the woman at the back of the room to look up for a moment. "The glass would appear to be in the way," comes Kally's reply, from all the way in the back. She doesn't need to be loud about it, since the room is big and quiet.
The appearance of a 'gun' is enough tat would have the Lieutenant moving for his own piece. In fact if one was to look back over to the door, his hand would be sliding for his own freaking weapon. That is till the suction cup dart is noted, and so he tries to play it off, as less, well jumpiness. A grunt and he's moving over to where the other two seated-ish.
"That's not proper ordinance, Navarro." A sniff, before he's looking to see what in the hell she was aiming at, before he's looking back to the gun. "You need practice. A blind three year old with bricks for frakking hands could hit that, with as slow as we move." Never mind that this is not a real pistol, but a child's toy.
Pilots.
"Thank the frakkin gods it is.." the glass, being in the way. "I like my lungs in my chest..Thanks."
The S2 does make a fair point, even though Kally would be lying to say that she's not considering what would happen if that glass were to just shatter, finally finding peace, ending the struggle they're all involved in and not having the guilt she feels. She hides it well though, because that ugly frakkin' barge out there might have the only living connection she has to a past life. "When do you suppose open visitation to Kharon will be permitted? Are registry and roster inquiries currently permitted?"
There's a faux-irate mutter of, "Physics," from Vega, and then she lowers her weapon, and shoves the plastic barrel between blue cushions. "Dammet." She shakes her head. "Maybe my problem is I don't act enough like a blind three year old. Thanks for the suggestion, Tombs. CMC style."
Tombs blinks once back over towards Kally for a moment, and there's a faint look of amusement that almost flickers across the S2's eyes. "Well, let me see here Lieutenant." And there's a pause as he puts away his cigarettes and then extends his index finger. Holding it aloft for all to see, Nate then wets it, and holds it out into the air as if trying to tell something. Feel free to ask what he is doing, though Vega's probably seen this act before.
"That's naughty, Lieutenant," Ramses says to Tombs as she enters, noting his non-verbal communications. Smiling anyway, she pauses briefly by Vega, offering the woman a nod and then moves on down to the viewport proper, finding an empty loveseat. Of course, she stares at Kharon and thinks outloud, "That is one heck of an ugly ship."
The S2 seems to basically have Kally's undivided attention. She's never been one to mingle with the Marines…appreciate them, for sure. Enjoy the occasional mud-slinging contest, absolutely, but that's not to say she's seen this act before. She has a pretty good idea of where he's going with it. "Please spare me the act, Lieutenant…all I did was ask two yes or no questions. I just want to know if someone's alive over there."
"Don't speak, might scare off th' breeze." Tombs says softly, before he's lowering his finger "Huh, I guess that frakkin Hades did not in fact freeze over." And there's a look back towards Kallisto for a moment as if that should suffice. One glance is passed to Ramses and there's a faint chuckle. "One of my lighter responses." in truth, he probably could have done a hell of a lot worse.
"Lemme assure you, that there are breathin' people aboard that hunk of shit- an they aren't entirely too pleased t' see us." he'll let that sit. "Fact we're kinda viewed as invadin' I would guess by some of the chilly receptions we've had since they've joined the fleet. Actin' like dogs that've been kicked too damned much. It is a sorry sight. So- right now? We're gonna give em their peace an be all neighborly-let th' adults go over an ask for sugar." Now it is back to rooting for his crumpled pack of smokes. "An once the dust has settled, an they ain't acting butt hurt-which I don' blame em for- we'll go an have a Sadie Hawkins or some shit. Let you all get sweet on each other."
Vega sits back in her seat. She sips from her mug, lifting it from its place balanced on her thigh. Her eyes follow the S2, flick briefly to Ramses. She nods. "Tombs, Hades hasn't frozen over. Put your finger back where it belongs." She doesn't say 'up your ass', but it's implied. "Sending mail over with the CAG next time she storms the clubhouse doesn't seem like a bad idea. You know how she is when she wants some… thing." Her eyes go back to the S2 as he Aerelons off. "… The frak, man." Oh, cigarettes.
Ramses tears her gaze from the Kharon and throws a smirk over her shoulder at Tombs. "See, you're a big ol' softy." Listening to his bit on how Kharon's reacting, she turns on the loveseat and gives her full attention to the on-going conversation. A sympathetic and wide-eyed look is given Kallisto and she says, "I know it hurts to wait, Sketch. If'n you don't mind my asking, who do you think might be keeping the porch light on for you over there?"
Before she answers, Kally stands up from the loveseat at the back of the room, taking the opportunity to stretch a bit. She's in no hurry to answer, stretching her arms over her back, then leaning to the sides to stretch her torso and back. "If he's alive…it'd be my brother. Last I heard was that he had been stationed there. Likewise, he knows I was stationed here for training. Neither of us knows if the other's alive. It's nerve-wrecking, quite frankly."
Tombs looks back towards Vega and quirks an eyebrow, briefly. "Wednesday night already?" a kiss of his teeth, and eyes are back down to his pack. After a bit of fiddling he plucks two smokes out- one offered in the direction over to Vega with a slight lean, he's keeping the other-thank you very much.
A sharp look is passed Ramses way, as he proceeds to light up. "Don't let it out, folks might try shit." shifty eyes. And with that he's back focused to Arturis. "Then write your CAG. She might pass it over." a shrug, and a toke.
Ramses bobs her head and tosses a hand out at Vega and Tombs' as they give the wisest solution, "Definitely pass it through the CAG. If anyone can find out, it's her." She pauses a beat and adds, "If I hear anything myself, I'll let you know."
The smart man offers not the entire pack to the gimpy pilot. She reaches over and snags one of the cigs, then shoves it behind her ear. She finishes off her coffee, and grunts something under her breath. Vega glances over at the viewport, and then moves to rise, leaving her plastic gun shoved into the cushions.
And then as it almost seems time for something wise of insightful to come from the LT, the loud tone pings over the intercom, followed by a rather burly voice reporting over the intercoms:
"Pass the word along. Lt. Tombs to see Captain Krauss. Pass the Word along"
The click and the distinct accent is enough to cause the S2 to groan. "Just when I get frakking here, suddenly he decides he needs my ass. Hades blue frakkin balls, You'd think tween him an Sito, I'm a godsdamned child.." A look over towards Vega. "Swimming." simply confirming it, before he's turning to head on back to the hatch and slide out. "Later kids." breathed out with some smoke.
"The CAG…right. I wasn't aware that she had been over," Kally says with a nod, in both the S2 and Ramses' direction at the front of the room. "The question that remains to be asked is…how buried is she with similar requests?" The question is rhetorical, and Kally doesn't expect an answer. As the others start to drift out, Kally resumes her seat on the blue furniture, only this time staring out into space at the other ship.
Vega stands for a moment, as if considering if her leg is going to behave long enough for her to walk up to the sims. Down to the sims. What the frak deck is this anyway. She rubs a hand over her face, and picks up her empty coffee mug. "PT hour of pain is upon me." She shakes her head and starts off for the hatch, her gait interrupted by a pronounced limp. "Never hurts to ask, Sketch."
"Have a good workout, Punchout," Ramses offers in parting. After a half second, she grins and says, "Workout, Punchout. Ha." Shaking her head, she sighs and while watching Tombs' head out, she offers, "Momma always said nothin' ventured nothin' gained. Maybe she's swamped, maybe she ain't. Just do it official like."
If there's one thing about the Demitros family, it's that most stuff is by the book. Of course, hardly anyone on Hestia would know that…while almost everyone on Kharon may! "That goes without saying, of course," Kally replies. "Alternatively, I could just wait, like everyone else. No reason that I should be special. Command certainly gets priority over some stickjock who thinks her brother might be alive over there."
Vega shakes her head as she departs the Obs Deck. "Stonewall, you slay me." It's said pretty flatly, but there's almost always a smile on Vega's face, despite her issues with walking. "Have a good one."
"You too." Vega's smile is met with one of Ramses' own. If she was teasing, it was definitely lighthearted. Then it's back to Kallisto and her concerns. There's a thoughtful silence from the woman before she offers up some more advice, "Whiplash'd probably like that better. It's horrible not knowin', but… and you'll forgive the way I put this, they ain't gettin' any 'live or deader at this point."
"Once again, very true. Which is why I could be content to wait." Kally ponders just a moment, before giving the departing Vega a nod of her head and a small wave. Then she reaches to her side and pulls the sketchbook into her lap from the seat next to her. The last thing Vega would see is the woman flipping through the pages, some half-completed, some roughed out, some very finished, of faces and people. Who they are is anyone's guess.
There's a torn expression on Stonewall's face as she watches Sketch start to … well. Sketch. Canting her head away, she eyeballs Kharon again, trying to give the woman some privacy. It lasts about five seconds before she blurts out, "Don't lose hope, okay?"
"If I haven't by this point, there's a good chance I won't before we're allowed to visit there. Maybe after, but not before." Low light be damned, Kally's going to do some work on a few pieces in the book. She seems to ignore the surroundings, drifting of into her own world as she pulls out a charcoal pencil and continues work on one picture in particular: it happens to man's face, of course with glasses. It's something she's only started since they found Kharon.
"Good." And with that, Ramses really does give the other pilot her privacy as she views Kharon in thoughtful silence. No more blurting this time.
With Kharon drifting outside Hestia's viewport, the two women are left to their own devices, one lounging and looking, the other sitting hunched over in the low light and sketching, seemingly inspired by the ship outside. Whether or not they'll be able to visit anytime soon is up for debate, but for the moment, some folks on board don't seem to resent the fact that an ugly frakkin' ship like Kharon is out there; some are genuinely glad to find more living, breathing humans.
