Commander Shepard (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
roeh) wrote in ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png)
thenearshore2016-03-04 07:23 pm
roeh) wrote in thenearshore2016-03-04 07:23 pm
[closed]
Who: roeh & okitactless
What: How do swords work can you shoot it?
When: February 21shhhhh
Where: Mórrígan's shrine
Warnings: Completely pg violence
Indolence is a dress that has never suited the commander. It is fashioned in a form that billows, and snags on all her sharp precision. Like wise it is woven of a stiff fabric that constricts her conviction. For Shepard, moving, breathing, squeezing through each narrow path sighted through her scope mean the difference between victory and demise and there is no room for hesitation among such perilous stakes.
But now her battlefield is a personal vendetta and she may be in the trenches but she advances at all crawl. Her hands rest idle on a desk that holds no work and her mind churns through plans that see no action. The clock on the wall ticks. It swallows up seconds, hours, entire days at a time in six degree increments and never before has the passage of time sounded so loud.
This isn't good enough!
The sound is broken, cut through like a knife, by her chair scraping the ground and it's replaced by the tempo of pacing footsteps. What does she need? More information. How does she get it? By dressing in their divinity and keeping up the ridiculous charade. But nothing in her training could have prepared her for this kind of infiltration.
So that's the answer, isn't it?
She grabs her phone from atop a pile of dog eared books and already she's moving, flowing in a current that she only hopes will lead from one goal to the next like connecting the dots. Her feet trace the path to the only other occupied room in the shrine while her thumb traces the screen in a furious kind of search.
She doesn't even lift her eyes as she pauses in his door. "Yasusada. Can you meet me on the roof in five minutes? I need your help with something."
And then she's gone, on the move again, towards the target on the other end of her scope.
roeh & okitactlessWhat: How do swords work can you shoot it?
When: February 21
Where: Mórrígan's shrine
Warnings: Completely pg violence
Indolence is a dress that has never suited the commander. It is fashioned in a form that billows, and snags on all her sharp precision. Like wise it is woven of a stiff fabric that constricts her conviction. For Shepard, moving, breathing, squeezing through each narrow path sighted through her scope mean the difference between victory and demise and there is no room for hesitation among such perilous stakes.
But now her battlefield is a personal vendetta and she may be in the trenches but she advances at all crawl. Her hands rest idle on a desk that holds no work and her mind churns through plans that see no action. The clock on the wall ticks. It swallows up seconds, hours, entire days at a time in six degree increments and never before has the passage of time sounded so loud.
This isn't good enough!
The sound is broken, cut through like a knife, by her chair scraping the ground and it's replaced by the tempo of pacing footsteps. What does she need? More information. How does she get it? By dressing in their divinity and keeping up the ridiculous charade. But nothing in her training could have prepared her for this kind of infiltration.
So that's the answer, isn't it?
She grabs her phone from atop a pile of dog eared books and already she's moving, flowing in a current that she only hopes will lead from one goal to the next like connecting the dots. Her feet trace the path to the only other occupied room in the shrine while her thumb traces the screen in a furious kind of search.
She doesn't even lift her eyes as she pauses in his door. "Yasusada. Can you meet me on the roof in five minutes? I need your help with something."
And then she's gone, on the move again, towards the target on the other end of her scope.