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Post by Gabby on May 7, 2010 10:17:00 GMT -8
:: Ɲasch’ka » Reception DinnerNasch’ka cheerfully shook Sol’s hand for a few seconds. “You may call me Sol though if you'd prefer, some people don't like using the full name.”The Minoan reclaimed his hand and slipped it into his pocket, his other arm propping him against the bar. “I will to call you Sol only if it is what you are to prefer!” he explained. “It is your name. It is like Miss Klein told to me. Her name is Amelia – a lovely title of certainty – but she is in preference with Klein. So that is how I am her to dub.” “Nevertheless, you must be Nasch'ka yes? It's great to formally meet you. Can I get you a drink friend?” “Yes! And to you as well.” But he waved away the bartender, nodding once to him. “I no longer have want of a drink, but many thanks for question! Although, what is this you consume?” The inquisitive Minoan eyed the vibrant orange beverage. “It looks so… what is English term for this…” His face scrunched as he delved into deep thought. “… enchanting? Augh, I feel this is not right.” He patted down his suit jacket to try and locate the lump his dictionary would have caused, but it was clearly missing. “It seems all the parties make my mind cloudy. I forget my English book. I am hoping you are not so sickened by my poor speaking. I have the ear for English, but sadly not the tongue.” For once, Nasch’ka’s happiness dimmed noticeably, though slightly. He realized he had been talking a bit much and wished he hadn’t overwhelmed his new teammate. But he was quick to bounce back. — :: Dr. Alessandra Romero » May Young’s RoomKnock, knock, knock. A fist of comprised of long, elegant fingers rapped upon the door. The other hand gripped a transparent clipboard, its screen blipping and flashing with various symbols and images. Dr. Romero let her hand fall to her side and leaned forward. “Miss Young?” she called, a barely identifiable Latin accent laced in her words. “Ms. Klein wanted me to check up on you. Is everything okay in there?” Despite the casualness of the question itself, the way she articulated made each word seem important and professional. This did nothing to rid her tone of its geniality, though.
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Post by turkoizdog on May 7, 2010 21:32:08 GMT -8
Taran opened his eyes and rolled over in bed, facing the clock. His eyes took a moment to adjust, and it took a while for his mind to sink in that it was 8:00 and he had fallen asleep atop his unmade bed in the same clothing he had worn to the ceremony. After some quick math in his head, he realized that he had an hour before the reception at 2100 hours (he still had to get adjusted to military time).
Taran shot up in bed, quickly hopping up, shedding his outer layers, and tossing them onto his bed before stepping into the bathroom to shower. He had to adjust the showerhead so that the water washed over his entire body and not just his torso, but once he did, he stood still under the water for a good fifteen minutes before remembering that he was in a bit of a hurry. Upon stepping out of the shower, squeaky clean and smelling slightly of rain (a scent that reminded him of home), he dried himself off, leaving his hair tousled and slightly damp, before wrapping a towel around himself and stepping back into his room.
Opening his closet, Taran immediately plucked his chosen outfit off the hanger: his formal military uniform. He didn't bother looking himself in the mirror until he was dressed, but once he did, he smiled. His uniform had been made specially to fit his Quellian height, and for once the clothing the military gave him fit perfectly. Sure his hair was tousled and damp, but as long as it wasn't dripping wet, it was good enough. Besides, he kind of liked the way his hair looked when messy. After pushing his rope bracelet out from under the sleeve of his uniform (it was so tight that the crystals dug into his skin if he didn't), Taran headed off to the reception, arriving just a few minutes early.
The reporters appeared busy, so Taran headed over to the bar. The bartender, who was on the other side of the bar, finished serving someone before heading over and asking Taran what he wanted. "Do you have... juice?"
"Juice? Just juice?" The bartender was slightly confused. "No alcohol?"
"Yes, just juice." Taran confirmed. Juice was yet another thing that reminded him of home. The bartender poured a glass of juice for Taran and walked off muttering something about juice and chocolate milk and The Big Five and children.
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Post by Del on May 8, 2010 13:26:06 GMT -8
May Young :: Dorm Room
“Miss Young? Ms. Klein wanted me to check up on you. Is everything okay in there?”
May guessed this voice belonged to Dr. Alessandra Romero. Romero, being a psychologist, was a seasoned observer and counselor, and she was the psychiatric head on A.D.A.M.'s base. May did not know her well, yet she had encountered her a few times in the academy during routine check ups. Romero probably didn't remember her... not many people did...
Sitting up in the bed she had flung herself on hours ago, May tottered sleepily and reluctantly to the door. Unlocking it, the door slid fluidly open, and the smiling face of Dr. Romero was looking back at her.
"Hello," May mumbled, "Please come in..."
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Lenne
Fable
I WANT GREG GIRALDO BACK
Posts: 165
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Post by Lenne on May 8, 2010 13:46:47 GMT -8
Alnair~ceremony
Alnair went to the party in a light blue tuxedo. The tux had been a present of one of his teachers as a graduation present, and itwas the only article of clothing he had in his closet, other than his uniform. Since he was told to wear something other than his uniform--or, it was at least implied that he should--he wore the blue tuxedo, looking like some mob boss who had happened to stroll into the room.
When he first arrived, Alnair wasn't sure what he should, so he simply stood in the doorway, looking like some lost puppy. The guests were more involved in their own chatter, but noticed him nonetheless. Some thought of going up to him and asking whether he was lost or if he needed anything, but they decided against it, him being in that suit. Even if they didn't get the "mob boss" vibe, he was still rather unfashionable.
Regardless, Alnair's presence in the middle of the doorway made it difficult for others to maneuver in and out of the room. They, in high-class politeness, didn't even mention it to Alnair, until finally, a military general came to the doorway, and became angry at the blockade.
"Hey!" He yelled angrily. "Do you mind!?"
Alnair, startled by the loud voice, jumped and squeaked. "I'm sorry, sir!" He turned toward the journal, cringing. "I didn't mean to!"
"Well, I--" the general began, but stopped. He got a good look at Alnair, and realized his identity. "Ah... Alnair, right? The new Big Five pilot? Congratulations, son!" The general put out his hand.
Alnair looked at his hand, somewhat frustrated. "Jeez, how many 'Big High Fives' am I gonna give from now on?"
The general looked at him strangely. "Um...well, then!" He took it away, and led Alnair out of the doorway. "The military is glad to have upstanding soldiers such as yourself! Why don't you go to the bar and get yourself a drink?"
"Bar...?" Alnair said puzzlingly. He didn't know much about bars, except that he used them in fixing auxiliary robots, and that his friends would often "go to the bar" after work. He never understood what a "bar" would have to offer--it's just a thick metal pole! But he never questioned his friends as to their intentions, and simply went back to his room.
"The bar!" The general said again, turning Alnair's body to wear the bar was. He pointed: "Right there!"
Alnair saw a small little booth with lots of chairs in front of it, and a stout man behind it; behind the man was a large number of liquids he had never seen before. "Bar...?" he said again, mimicking the general's point.
"Exactly! Don't worry if you're underaged--all military personnel get alcohol, no matter what."
"Bar..." Alnair said a third time, walking slowly away from the general and toward the booth.
The general watched him, a bit curious. "What a queer fellow...welp, suppose you have to be, to accept a position in the Big Five."
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At the bar, Alnair sat at the very end, not really noticing the others already there. He was so entranced at the very setting--so musty and...wooden. And all those liquids--what were they? Some were dark and murky, like grease and oil he found in auxiliary robots...some were very colorful and bright. He didn't know what to make of any of them...
The bartender came to him. "Hello, sir!" he spoke in a welcoming voice. "What would you like?"
Alnair was still focused on the drinks, not really listening to the bartender. Then his gaze broke off, and he realized he was being spoken to. "Oh! I'm sorry, sir! What did you ask?"
"Drink," the bartender said, kind of annoyed. "What would you like to drink?"
"Ummm..." Alnair looked at the drinks behind the bartender again, as if trying to pick out which one he should choose. "I don't know! What do you have?"
The bartender sighed. "What do you think we have? Vodka, beer, margaritas, martinis, whiskey--"
"Whiskey?" Alnair questioned. He didn't know what whiskey was, but he thought the name sounded cute--kind of sounded like "kitty." "Yeah, whiskey...I'll have some whiskey, pretty please!"
"Um...alright," the bartender said, grabbing a big gallon of a brown murky liquid from behind him. "At least someone's a man here..." he muttered to himself, pouring a small amount of liquid in a flask. Then he handed the flask to Alnair. "Here you go, sir."
Alnair stared at it for a second. "Umm..."
"Umm what?" the bartender asked. "Something wrong?"
"Umm...I'm sorry but..." Alnair looked up at the bartender. "Shouldn't it be a little...bigger?"
"Bigger!?" the bartender nearly shouted. "You want it to be bigger!?"
Alnair nodded, innocently. "Could I have the whole bottle? I drink a lot! A lot more than my friends!"
The bartender gaped at him. He muttered, "Damn, this one's got balls..." Then he went and grabbed the bottle from the shelf, uncorked it and gave it to him. "It's all yours, buddy."
"Thanks!" Alnair said, happily, getting ready to take a drink.
The bartender shook his head. "I've got three people ordering kid drinks, and this guy wants his stomach pumped."
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Post by IceCoffin on May 8, 2010 17:32:49 GMT -8
~Valerie Ashell: Dinner Reception~
Tuk-tunk, tuk-tunk, tuk-tunk...
Valerie's steps pounded the floor with determination as she walked to the after-ceremony reception. She never really had a graceful gait, but rather, she tended to move purposefully in whatever direction she desired. Val was never one for silly, flouncy walks. As such, she never enjoyed "silly, flouncy things", like the skirt she was wearing to the party.
The reporters following her had wisely learned to stay their distance, perhaps because they didn't want to be stuck chasing her again. Although Val wouldn't have cared anyway at this point, her mind was focused on getting to the party, and calling the whole farce off.
She had no idea what she would find at the reception, nor did she have a plan as to what she would next: all she had was a goal. Quite typical of her, really.
Val strode up to the doors outside the reception room. Music and chatter could be heard on the other side. Instead of letting the doorman out front open the door for her, she instead shoved him out of her way and kicked the door wide open.
"All right then! Who here is running this show?! I'd like to have a little chat about my current status."
Val glared sourly, and unconsciously rubbed one fist as if she was preparing for a fight. Most people in the room were speechless. Her announcement was thing, but her... her underpants was another.
Forgetting that she was wearing a skirt, Val had kicked the door down and flashed the entirety of the room with her panties. It didn't take long for Val to realize what had happened when she noticed the flash of a journalist's camera go off.
Though embarrassed, Valerie saw this as an opportunity to take control of the situation. She moved quickly to the journalist, and snatched the camera out of his hands. "Right then. So, Dr. Asadullah runs the Big Five. Don't look at me like I'm a fucking idiot, I know who the hell he is, and I know that he's around here somewhere, right?!"
The man nodded, aghast. Doing some photojournalism for the Big Five was his big break! But, he didn't expect the members of such a group to be quite this... intimidating. All he was interested in photographing celebrities, not thugs. And this woman was no celebrity.
"Ah.. ah... yes! Uhm, that's right! Dr. Asadullah is here. Ah, I think he was uh, by the bar! Yes! The bar!"
Valerie snorted, "Not quite enough, Bucky. I'm so sorry- deleted!"
The journalist nodded sheepishly, and gulped once the tall human tossed the camera back to him. This was not making him look good.
Ignoring him, Val moved her way to the bar, and sat down.
"Give me a fucking beer. I need one. Bad."
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Post by CO on May 9, 2010 15:40:50 GMT -8
|-Ceremony-|
“I no longer have want of a drink, but many thanks for question! Although, what is this you consume?” The inquisitive Minoan eyed the vibrant orange beverage. “It looks so… what is English term for this…” His face scrunched as he delved into deep thought. “… enchanting? Augh, I feel this is not right.” He patted down his suit jacket to try and locate the lump his dictionary would have caused, but it was clearly missing. “It seems all the parties make my mind cloudy. I forget my English book. I am hoping you are not so sickened by my poor speaking. I have the ear for English, but sadly not the tongue.”
"It's quite alright," Sol said with a laugh. "This is Nai'to, it is a beverage that was created on my home planet. For those without Quellian blood in them it can be quite a powerfully intoxicating drink, but I guess we're a bit more... equipped for it I guess you could say. It's really quite delicious."
Noticing that he was no longer needed right there, the bartender took off down the bar towards other people. Sol swirled the liquid in his glass a few times before taking another sip. He looked down the bar and saw the bartender dealing with someone before handing them an entire bottle of whiskey.
"Is that... Alnair?" he asked, pointing down the bar at the recipient of the bottle.
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Ladafi
Dream
To denounce the evils of truth and love!
Posts: 67
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Post by Ladafi on May 9, 2010 22:50:26 GMT -8
Cahlour's flats skipped across the floor, and her opalescent skin seemed almost to steam in her flushed annoyance. Even with her height, she seemed to be gliding across the tiled corridors to the reception. Towards the door, a large backup seemed to have been built. For some reason, people were having a problem getting inside. Having no where to go for the minute, Cahlour turned her attention to a couple reporters who were complaining about something that was powderpuff blue.
"Hello boys," She smiled a little, not parting her mouth, brushing her blonde hair off her shoulders.
They seemed petrified for a moment, her bright, glossy red dress shining out from among the military attire, her height filling their vision, her grin captivating them. Coming out of their seconds-long coma, one of them grinned back.
"You're one of the Big Five, are you not? Cahlour?"
The Quellian nodded. "Yes, that's me. I'm a damn good maintainer, if I do say so myself."
One of the boys had clicked on a small, recording device, and held it out a little bit between them and her. "So, what are your opinions on the Big Five? Are you excited, nervous?"
Cahlour laughed. "I've never been more confident about anything in my life boys." She shifted her hips a little, letting her dress catch the ceiling lights. "The A.D.A.M. is just the minor leagues. The Big Five is where the real game begins."
"What is your opinion on Valerie Ashell, your pilot?"
Someone had begun yelling, and the crowd began to move. Cahlour grinned at the boys. "Why don't we go in, and maybe you'll find out?" She winked, laughing again. She quickly slunk through the now moving mass of people, into the dimly lit, large reception hall. Ditching the two boys who were still calling questions after her, and passing right behind someone in a bright blue tuxedo, whom she noted in the back of her mind as being one of the Big Five himself, she began to mingle with others. She found a table full of old school friends and sauntered over.
"Hello gals, how's the party?" They all turned to her, a collective gasp over her loud attire and seemingly attention-grabbing mood. Cahlour had been mainly known for being quiet, holing up in her room for hours on end. Some were surprised she had even showed up at all.
One of the girls stood up. She was a Quellian as well, with a dark tinted blue skin, and her name was Skye, derived from "The Cloud Among the Sky," which was her Quellian name. She had been one of Cahlour's closer classmates, and both had competed intensely for the position in the Big Five. Skye, though hiding it well over the past few days, was rather bitter over the winner of their contest. However, Skye also knew when a problem was arising in Cahlour's shifty mood.
"Cahlour, maybe you should leave. You don't seem very well," Skye looked her up and down. Maybe she's cracked, she thought to herself.
Cahlour guffawed loudly. "Oh, I'm fine, but thanks Skye. Maybe if you had made it to The Big Five, you would understand," Cahlour spat. The rest of the girls at the table began to ruffle nervously, feeling the tension, and looking around in case a scuffle broke out.
Skye steamed. "What are you so angry about? Maybe we should step out of here." No matter how upset she was, she wasn't going to let Cahlour's catastrophic mood swing bring her down too. No matter how bitter she was, she was still Cahlour's friend.
"I'm not angry, I'm ecstatic. But I'm not in the mood to chat with babies." Cahlour flashed her teeth, and turned, ignoring Skye's protests, storming off.
As she waded through people trying to get her attention, her anger growing into a surmountable rage, pushing against the edges of her brain and ready to explode. The bar flashed into view. Just what I need, Cahlour thought. A drink.
Stepping towards it, she sidled up next to another Quellian, one she recognized as being another of the Big Five. Taran, She named him to herself, trying to put faces and names together. As she looked up and down the bar, she realized there were a number of the Big Five crowded around here. Evidently becoming a part of the biggest team in the military made a person want to drink.
Right as the bartender sauntered over, a loud sound banged from the entrance door. A woman crashed in, making a loud commotion. Cahlour squinted over. Ignoring the bartender's questions of drink preference, Cahlour grinned, and began to breathe a little heavily, her anger pulsating, her head feeling as if it was swelling. It's Valerie Ashell. And she's headed this way.
Seeing her partner walk towards the bar, Cahlour turned back around, grinning at the annoyed bar man. "I'll take a Vodka, hard up."
The bartender glanced down at the man in the bright blue suit, and back at Cahlour before shrugging, and reaching down to grab a bottle of Vodka, filling up a glass, and pushing it towards her. "Oh, and could I get a cherry on top too?" Cahlour asked. The bar man looked confused, but opened a jar of cherries and threw one in.
Cahlour lifted the glass to her mouth, downing half the drink, and pulling the cherry into her mouth, sucking on it. She side glanced past Taran, and saw Valerie step up to the bar. She grinned, and turned her chair.
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Post by turkoizdog on May 10, 2010 2:23:50 GMT -8
Sipping on his juice, Taran just listened to the sounds around him. People speaking, people ordering drinks... someone ordered an entire bottle of whiskey. Looking over, he noted it was Alnair. Maybe Birzans were able to handle more alcohol? Taran knew that Quellians could handle certain types of alcohols better than those who weren't Quellian, so it was entirely plausible... but an entire bottle of whiskey?
He then felt a presence beside him, and turned to see a very pretty Quellian woman in red sit next to him and order Vodka with a cherry. Taran was 20, so by human standards, he wasn't old enough to drink yet. However, Quellian standards were different from human standards, and Taran was sure that as long as he stuck to Quellian alcohols, he should be fine. Looking at the bottles, he noticed many that he recognized, many he could name, and a few that were more or less 'none of the above'.
Taran snuck a glance at the woman beside him again. He now realized she was one of the Big Five with him. He went through a list of names in his head. She wasn't Amelia, he knew that much. Valerie? Maybe she was someone else. No, Valerie was the one who appeared unhappy to be one of the Big Five. The woman next to him was... sucking on a cherry.
Her name, although on the tip of his proverbial tongue at the moment, completely slipped Taran's mind when she placed the cherry in her mouth. So, for a good couple of minutes, he just sat there, lips slightly parted, staring sideways at the Big Five woman whose name he couldn't remember. When she moved, he realized he had been staring at her, and his eyes darted back to his drink. He quickly picked up the glass and finished off the drink in a few gulps, then set the glass down, making a slightly louder clink noise than he had intended.
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Post by IceCoffin on May 10, 2010 9:50:26 GMT -8
~Valerie Ashell: Reception, Bar~
Valerie sat somewhat sourly in her bar stool. There was no sign of Dr. Asadullah anywhere, but this at least was an excuse to get a drink. All she wanted was a beer. Nothing fancy, and most definitely none of that "lite" shit.
She glanced around at the others at the bar stool. Though she didn't pay much attention to the ceremony itself, she did at least know that some of these people were other members of the Big Five. She just couldn't put names to faces.
They were an odd bunch. Some were drinking alcohol, and some were not; both groups ran to the extremes. There was a large Minoan enjoying a glass of milk at one end of the spectrum, and on the other a... was that a Birzan?! The Birzan youth -he certainly was too pretty to be considered an adult- was musing the large bottle of whiskey that was placed in front of him.
It was utterly ridiculous, but it amused Valerie. She couldn't help but crack a smile, and at least it got her mind off things a little bit.
"Hey kiddo," she called out the Birzan, "What's your poison?"
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Ladafi
Dream
To denounce the evils of truth and love!
Posts: 67
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Post by Ladafi on May 10, 2010 13:29:43 GMT -8
Cahlour's eyes followed Valerie as she surveyed the group and liquids in contemplation. Cahlour almost wiggled in her chair, the cherry still rolling around her tongue as she sucked it dry of juice and remaining vodka. She felt like an animal, her instincts telling her to pounce, to rip, to dominate.
A loud clink sucked her out of her own head. She caught a glance at the Quellian next to her, who she noticed had been side-glancing at her, and who had seemingly dropped his glass to the bar. Cahlour cooled a little, blinking a few times. She had accidentally been leaning a little in anticipating, her body almost touching him.
Pulling back, she grinned. Wait, She thought. If I make the first move I'll be labeled as the one who started this. I'm not starting anything - she's the one with the problem. Eying Valerie's back (for she had now turned towards the Birzan at the end), she suddenly turned her eyes to stare at the Quellian next to her.
"Taran," She stated, putting her big, translucently blue finger to her lips and pulling the cherry stem away, dropping it back into her still half full glass of alcohol. "I'm not sure we've had the pleasure of meeting. My name's Cahlour."
She had turned her entire body as to face Taran, her knees, exposed beneath the short cut red dress, pushing against his leg. Reaching out her right hand for a shake, she winked at him.
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Lenne
Fable
I WANT GREG GIRALDO BACK
Posts: 165
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Post by Lenne on May 10, 2010 16:55:54 GMT -8
Alnair~at the bar
Alnair took a first gulp of whiskey, and nearly spit it out, all in one quick motion. Burn! burn! burn! burn! BURN!! was all he could think. The liquid was powerful and warm, and he didn't like it at all...and he hadn't even swallowed yet. Then he looked up at the bartender, who was eying him inquisitively, and suddenly felt guilty about not liking the drink.
The little man worked so hard to get me my drink... He reflected on how kindly the man had acquiesced to Alnair's request of an entire bottle of the cute-sounding whiskey. Even then, he could imagine the stout bartender yelling "You want it to be bigger!!?", and then effortlessly grabbing that whiskey off the shelf--all to serve him.
So, reluctantly, preparing for the worst, Alnair swallowed his entire gulp of the beverage...only to find that it didn't taste that bad.
Wow! he thought. That was kinda...kinda good! Hey! I'm even feeling happy now! Wait 'till I tell kitty about this! And, suddenly, reflecting on his "kitty," he began quietly giggling to himself.
"Hey kiddo," a rough female voice called, Alnair fumbling the drink as it was spoken. He looked around, looking for the cause of the interruption, only to find a young woman he recognized from the press conference, looking straight at him. "What's your poison?"
Alnair looked puzzled by the statement. "Poison?" he wondered, scratching his head. "Who would want poison?"
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Post by IceCoffin on May 10, 2010 18:52:07 GMT -8
~Valerie Ashell: Reception, Bar~
The Birzan youth at first didn't appear to like his whiskey: his face had twisted into an odd expression of disgust and surprise. Then, he bravely gulped down the alcohol. Valerie couldn't helped but be amazed. This was obviously his first time- and he actually swallowed it!
Damn, even I spat that first time. Kid's got some serious balls.
The Birzan turned to her, confused by her question. "Poison?" he replied, "Who would want poison?"
Valerie grinned again, clearly amused, "My god... like a little kid, aren'tcha? I meant your drink. What the heck is your drink? ...I'm after a beer, myself."
Amazingly, the Birzan's antics had taken her troubles clear out of her mind. There was no way Val could possibly be sour around someone this... this amusing. It was impossible! His mirth was rather infectious, really.
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Lenne
Fable
I WANT GREG GIRALDO BACK
Posts: 165
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Post by Lenne on May 10, 2010 20:16:52 GMT -8
Alnair~at the bar
The woman Alnair recognized seemed to be enjoying herself. "My God," she said, grinning. "Like a little kid, aren'tcha? I meant your drink. What the heck is your drink? ...I'm after a beer myself."
Alnair looked at his drink, then at the giddy woman. "My drink...?" He looked at the bottle again, trying to decipher what the woman was saying. As if coming to that realization, Alnair's eyes widened, and he suddenly gasped.
"My drink is poisonous!?"
"It's not poisonous!" the bartender called to him, somewhat annoyed. "My drinks are fine, thank you very much!"
Alnair looked at the barkeep, and back at his drink. He didn't see any reason not to believe the stout drink man, so he shrugged, and took another swig. This time, the liquid didn't burn nearly as much.
"Woooooow!" Alnair cried with undulation. "That tasted better than before!"
It seemed with each drink Alnair took, his mind seemed to deprogram itself, little by little. It felt like he was with Old Mother again, free to do as he pleased.
Alanir remembered the woman, and her question. "Oh, yes! Drink is called 'whiskey'! Isn't that cute?" He said this, grinning cheek to cheek.
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Post by Gabby on May 11, 2010 10:34:04 GMT -8
:: Ɲasch’ka » Reception DinnerNasch’ka peeked over his shoulder to where Sol looked. Indeed, it was the young Birzan at the bar, accompanied by another member of the Big Five. The Minoan saw this as advantageous; he wouldn’t have to run a mad search to introduce himself to all of the team. That’s not all he saw, though. Alnair, the Birzan, held in his hand an entire bottle of liquor, of which he seemed to take a swig every so often. Nasch’ka’s face dropped in mild shock at this; while Birzans were known for being bulky, this boy didn’t have the weight to withstand all of that. He looked a bit clueless, and after a few sips, he already began to waver. “Has no one…?” Nasch’ka began to ask, turning his head back and forth between Sol and Alnair. “Has no one had to tell him that is idea not so good? This man,” the Minoan gestured towards the bartender, “he make tasty milk but does hardly his job.” Nasch’ka took the task then upon himself, both to fulfill some sense of justice and to get to know them. “Excuse me, Sol. We are to continue our conversation at a later time!” With that, Nasch’ka propelled himself from the bar and kneaded his way through the thick crowd with his shoulder, muttering a few apologies along the way. It took a few moments for him to finally get to his destination. He did his best to not seem intrusive. “My truest regrets of interrupting,” he began, sporting as genial a smile as he could, “but from across bar I saw you two and supposed I am to say hello to new teammates.” He glanced to the girl – her name, Valerie, came after some serious brain-scouring – and noticed her rugged exterior, realizing his impression might not be that… impressive. He felt compelled to once again apologize for his speech, and so he did. “I tell to you now what I have told to Sol,” he pointed down to the Quellian pilot, “my English is not so optimal. I hope you are not too revolted, however I try.” The Minoan then turned his attention to Alnair, whose glossy eyes blinked up at him. “They call you Alnair, yes? I see you are straight to partying!” Nasch’ka chuckled, obviously talking about the bottle of whiskey. “But if I am to say respectably, have caution. I am speaking from experiences.” “Ah,” he focused on Valerie, “and you are called Valerie! I am Nasch’ka.” The Minoan bowed slightly to the woman. “I have heard some things about you.” He meant this as innocently as anything else. — :: Dr. Alessandra Romero » May Young’s RoomDr. Romero was a short woman, standing at a respectable 5’2” with a tan complexion – a result of her mixed African/Latin American heritage. Her hair – not wavy enough to be considered curly, but very close – bounced down to her shoulders. While she was over 40, she was aging gracefully, and didn’t even bother to hide the gray hairs sneaking their way in at her temples. The crow’s feet at her eyes showed prominently when she smiled at May’s invitation into her room. She took it with a nod, loose, comfortable but professional clothing swishing as she entered. She spoke with a hint of laughter in her voice. “I know that you had a little trouble at the interview, but I’m sorry to see you hit your head that hard.” She referred to the small bruise located on May’s forehead. She turned swiftly on her heels to look back at the girl. “I don’t mean to make you self-conscious. If there’s one thing you should know about me is that I always try to be honest.”
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Post by turkoizdog on May 11, 2010 15:09:27 GMT -8
When Taran heard his name, he knew instantly that the woman next to him had noticed his side glances. He had tried to be subtle, but well, when it came to women, he tended to forget the meaning of the word. He turned to face her on his stool, trying to appear casual. She introduced herself as Cahlour, a name Taran decided somehow fitting, although he began to wonder what her Quellian name was.
"Cahlour." he repeated her name. He liked the way it rolled off his tongue. "Pleasure to meet you." He shook her hand, have considering attempting to be suave and kissing it, but pushed the thought away. She didn't seem like your average giggle girl, and besides, he could never pull it off. He caught her wink and could feel her leg pressing against his and he wasn't sure whether to feel awkward or intimidated or...
Taran broke eye contact and looked back at his empty glass. What to say what to say what to say... "So you're a maintainer, right? For... Suphin, if I remember correctly?" he asked. Well of course she was a maintainer, she was Quellian! The only Quellian pilot was Insolitus, who, Taran decided, he wanted to talk to later. After all, Insolitus was currently speaking to the one Minoan on the team. The one whose name Taran probably couldn't pronounce if he tried.
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