Difference between revisions of "2022-11-22: Three Hopeful Thoughts"
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The space is established by a heavy olive curtain, secured firmly against both floor and ceiling - it wouldn't do for anything to come loose in battle, and this quarters is as makeshift as they come - and the comforts within are minimalist. Ennil has returned only once since Tsutsujidai, and left the very next day, but... | The space is established by a heavy olive curtain, secured firmly against both floor and ceiling - it wouldn't do for anything to come loose in battle, and this quarters is as makeshift as they come - and the comforts within are minimalist. Ennil has returned only once since Tsutsujidai, and left the very next day, but... | ||
| − | On a small desk, propped against a wall, is the playful, enticing face of Sheryl Nome on the insert of a jewel case. It's a retro choice, to be sure. The little star twinkling between the outstretched V of her fingers has been covered with a sticker of a Haro, flapping merrily. It pins a small scrap of paper, a clumsy musical | + | On a small desk, propped against a wall, is the playful, enticing face of Sheryl Nome on the insert of a jewel case. It's a retro choice, to be sure. The little star twinkling between the outstretched V of her fingers has been covered with a sticker of a Haro, flapping merrily. It pins a small scrap of paper, a clumsy musical sketch. It's not quite right, but someone with the right context, and the ear to hear it, would within a few notes catch the stumbling attempt to remember ''Clair de Lune''. |
On the cot, slumped sideways, is a bear that must be two and a half feet tall. Its fake fur lacks softness, and there's a long, careful stitch up its side. But its lumpen plushness leaves the clear impression of a slender forearm gripped tight around its middle. And there's a slender golden chain looped around its arm, a pendant hanging from its wrist. | On the cot, slumped sideways, is a bear that must be two and a half feet tall. Its fake fur lacks softness, and there's a long, careful stitch up its side. But its lumpen plushness leaves the clear impression of a slender forearm gripped tight around its middle. And there's a slender golden chain looped around its arm, a pendant hanging from its wrist. | ||
| − | Like everything else, it's not quite right. An improvised attempt. The pendant is mostly lapis, a wide blue crescent... But it's sliced through the middle with a cheap little red gem, glittering as the pendant turns back and forth in this empty room. | + | Like everything else, it's not quite right. An improvised attempt. The pendant is mostly lapis, a wide blue crescent set into the field of gold... But it's sliced through the middle with a cheap little red gem, glittering as the pendant turns back and forth in this empty room. |
It's the first thing she's ever let someone else make for her. | It's the first thing she's ever let someone else make for her. | ||
</poem> | </poem> | ||
Latest revision as of 21:20, 22 November 2022
- Cutscene: Three Hopeful Thoughts
- Cast: Ennil El
- Where: J-Ark, Unknown Spatial Coordinates
- Date: 0096-11-22
- Summary: A look through one brief window. Ennil El's favorite things.
The Red Planet's final legacy was built as a weapon, and without much thought to a crew that might need more than purpose to drive them. It can be beyond spartan - which was never really a problem for its original occupants. And certainly, it is still the flagship for a grand, noble, and terrible purpose today.
But it has also, quietly, become a place where people live.
The space is established by a heavy olive curtain, secured firmly against both floor and ceiling - it wouldn't do for anything to come loose in battle, and this quarters is as makeshift as they come - and the comforts within are minimalist. Ennil has returned only once since Tsutsujidai, and left the very next day, but...
On a small desk, propped against a wall, is the playful, enticing face of Sheryl Nome on the insert of a jewel case. It's a retro choice, to be sure. The little star twinkling between the outstretched V of her fingers has been covered with a sticker of a Haro, flapping merrily. It pins a small scrap of paper, a clumsy musical sketch. It's not quite right, but someone with the right context, and the ear to hear it, would within a few notes catch the stumbling attempt to remember Clair de Lune.
On the cot, slumped sideways, is a bear that must be two and a half feet tall. Its fake fur lacks softness, and there's a long, careful stitch up its side. But its lumpen plushness leaves the clear impression of a slender forearm gripped tight around its middle. And there's a slender golden chain looped around its arm, a pendant hanging from its wrist.
Like everything else, it's not quite right. An improvised attempt. The pendant is mostly lapis, a wide blue crescent set into the field of gold... But it's sliced through the middle with a cheap little red gem, glittering as the pendant turns back and forth in this empty room.
It's the first thing she's ever let someone else make for her.