- Joined
- Dec 20, 2015
- Messages
- 83
- Reaction score
- 21
Anticipation.
Chalk white letters with the fairest hint of wear sit in deep contrast to the shiny black of the ship. Drifting in the cosmos, the vessel was practically camouflaged. At least it was to the naked eye, save for that blocky, bright text.
Anticipation.
The ship was seeping it from the cockpit to the cargo-hold. But with what had come before, this was expected. Everyone knew what a hunt like this could offer, be it the money that some of them so desperately needed, or a bitter end that would induct the Anticipation into Shipwreck. But Marlow Vants was the last person who wanted the latter, knowing full well that his experiences from last time might not resemble the events that are about to unfold.
Similarly, Gomorrah Ansel felt the suspense as it churned inside her gut, swirling into a thick nervousness making a cocktail that threatened to spew onto the floor of the bunk room where she currently rested. Flying wasn’t a common occurrence for the girl, but neither was air sickness, which made this a case of nerves more than anything.
“You alright kid?” Came the deep bass of the Twi’lek captain. He spoke as a man with experience, like he’d spoken those words time and time again, and his worn features certainly didn’t dispute that.
“Yes sir.” Was all she could stomach. Vants would disagree.
“You say you’re alright, but you look like you might keel over any minute now. Come on, I’m giving a orientation in the cargo bay. We’ve got some bread and water over there, grab some and see if that doesn’t make you feel any better.” Because if they weren’t all in top condition, this mission would be doomed from the start, and it didn’t help that they were few in numbers already.
Adjacent to the bunks, the cargo room lay mostly bare. It had a few boxes and crates here and there, but they were only filled with the most essential equipment. While Gomorrah rifled through those for her snack, Marlow approached an intercom, projecting his voice across the entirety of the Anticipation.
“All crew report to the cargo bay, all crew report to the cargo bay.”
Chalk white letters with the fairest hint of wear sit in deep contrast to the shiny black of the ship. Drifting in the cosmos, the vessel was practically camouflaged. At least it was to the naked eye, save for that blocky, bright text.
Anticipation.
The ship was seeping it from the cockpit to the cargo-hold. But with what had come before, this was expected. Everyone knew what a hunt like this could offer, be it the money that some of them so desperately needed, or a bitter end that would induct the Anticipation into Shipwreck. But Marlow Vants was the last person who wanted the latter, knowing full well that his experiences from last time might not resemble the events that are about to unfold.
Similarly, Gomorrah Ansel felt the suspense as it churned inside her gut, swirling into a thick nervousness making a cocktail that threatened to spew onto the floor of the bunk room where she currently rested. Flying wasn’t a common occurrence for the girl, but neither was air sickness, which made this a case of nerves more than anything.
“You alright kid?” Came the deep bass of the Twi’lek captain. He spoke as a man with experience, like he’d spoken those words time and time again, and his worn features certainly didn’t dispute that.
“Yes sir.” Was all she could stomach. Vants would disagree.
“You say you’re alright, but you look like you might keel over any minute now. Come on, I’m giving a orientation in the cargo bay. We’ve got some bread and water over there, grab some and see if that doesn’t make you feel any better.” Because if they weren’t all in top condition, this mission would be doomed from the start, and it didn’t help that they were few in numbers already.
Adjacent to the bunks, the cargo room lay mostly bare. It had a few boxes and crates here and there, but they were only filled with the most essential equipment. While Gomorrah rifled through those for her snack, Marlow approached an intercom, projecting his voice across the entirety of the Anticipation.
“All crew report to the cargo bay, all crew report to the cargo bay.”
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