Ep. 1.5 - Good morning, Starshine (Closed-ish)
Sept 13, 2014 23:31:58 GMT -5
Post by Deleted on Sept 13, 2014 23:31:58 GMT -5
Date: Week 2
Location: Apline mire, Swiss Alps
Time: Dawn
-----
The air had been crisp, fresh, the breeze cool and and steady. Kissed by the wind, the vegetation growing thick along the mire swayed, the lovely white bobbles of flowering plants leaning hither and yon against the bright green grass they were nestled against. At the base of the mire laid a small pool of water, which rippled and danced as it was pushed and pulled by the breeze. Rolling hills and tall, proud mountainsides bordered the mire, their tops dusted with snow.
The sun had begun to rise, its light peaking over the mountains to shed its light on the rolling hills and mires below, bathing the area in a faint but growing glow. All was quiet, the land peaceful and serene as far as sight would allow, untouched and undisturbed by human or animal life.
It was not, however, void of anything but flora. Odd amongst the scenery was a machine - a starship of alien make which had been landed with great care upon a rocky slope, as to not disturb the plant life surrounding it. The ship itself was old, careworn, signs of its age showing in its scuffed and scorched surface. Stranger still was the ships occupant, as corroded and careworn as it itself was. He stood beside the faithful starship, optics turned towards the horizon as the sun whispered its hellos to the landscape, bathing it in greeting and in light. He smiled to himself, issued a good morning of his own to the star, thanking it for doing its duty, before gingerly sinking himself to the ground. He had to move slowly, bracing the staff he held in his right hand into the stone below him while his left reached out for the side of the ship for added balance as he lowered himself first to one knee, then the other. His joints creaked softly in protest, the aged metal that comprised his frame being brittle and easily displeased by the slightest movement.
He hushed at them, giving his knee a light pat to console it before shifting once more, to sit with his legs crossed. Once settled, he sighed gently and laid his staff across his lap, his arms then coming to rest upon the staff. His gaze turned towards the horizon once more, to watch the sun as it rose and the grass as it swayed. He leaned his back against the Concordia’s side, pleased that the ship had carried him so far, for so long, without any troubles. It was a faithful old ship, outdated and worn, and not quite what it used to be, but it was reliable. It granted him safe passage. That was all he could ask of it.
Settled comfortably, the old mech began to hum gently to himself, to help pass the time as he waited for someone to respond to his call. He had sent out a message upon landing, broadcasted a signal far and wide announcing his presence upon the planet. In the data packet of information had been his name, his status as a neutral and a Vector, and the offer of aid to any who may have need of it. The message began with a pleasant greeting, a glyph identifying him as a member of his Order, and ended with---of all things---a smiley emoticon.
Until then the message had been perfectly professional, which would lead one to the natural (and completely correct) assumption that the smiley-face had been tacked on at the end on a whim.
Location: Apline mire, Swiss Alps
Time: Dawn
-----
The air had been crisp, fresh, the breeze cool and and steady. Kissed by the wind, the vegetation growing thick along the mire swayed, the lovely white bobbles of flowering plants leaning hither and yon against the bright green grass they were nestled against. At the base of the mire laid a small pool of water, which rippled and danced as it was pushed and pulled by the breeze. Rolling hills and tall, proud mountainsides bordered the mire, their tops dusted with snow.
The sun had begun to rise, its light peaking over the mountains to shed its light on the rolling hills and mires below, bathing the area in a faint but growing glow. All was quiet, the land peaceful and serene as far as sight would allow, untouched and undisturbed by human or animal life.
It was not, however, void of anything but flora. Odd amongst the scenery was a machine - a starship of alien make which had been landed with great care upon a rocky slope, as to not disturb the plant life surrounding it. The ship itself was old, careworn, signs of its age showing in its scuffed and scorched surface. Stranger still was the ships occupant, as corroded and careworn as it itself was. He stood beside the faithful starship, optics turned towards the horizon as the sun whispered its hellos to the landscape, bathing it in greeting and in light. He smiled to himself, issued a good morning of his own to the star, thanking it for doing its duty, before gingerly sinking himself to the ground. He had to move slowly, bracing the staff he held in his right hand into the stone below him while his left reached out for the side of the ship for added balance as he lowered himself first to one knee, then the other. His joints creaked softly in protest, the aged metal that comprised his frame being brittle and easily displeased by the slightest movement.
He hushed at them, giving his knee a light pat to console it before shifting once more, to sit with his legs crossed. Once settled, he sighed gently and laid his staff across his lap, his arms then coming to rest upon the staff. His gaze turned towards the horizon once more, to watch the sun as it rose and the grass as it swayed. He leaned his back against the Concordia’s side, pleased that the ship had carried him so far, for so long, without any troubles. It was a faithful old ship, outdated and worn, and not quite what it used to be, but it was reliable. It granted him safe passage. That was all he could ask of it.
Settled comfortably, the old mech began to hum gently to himself, to help pass the time as he waited for someone to respond to his call. He had sent out a message upon landing, broadcasted a signal far and wide announcing his presence upon the planet. In the data packet of information had been his name, his status as a neutral and a Vector, and the offer of aid to any who may have need of it. The message began with a pleasant greeting, a glyph identifying him as a member of his Order, and ended with---of all things---a smiley emoticon.
Until then the message had been perfectly professional, which would lead one to the natural (and completely correct) assumption that the smiley-face had been tacked on at the end on a whim.