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HeavyMetalSunshineSister

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Year 10

About HeavyMetalSunshineSister

  • Birthday 07/12/1993

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    Female
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    I'm a bird nerd because photographing marine fish is somehow more expensive than photographing dinosaurs.
    I taught myself to write music a few years back, and then did the same thing with playing the flute, harmonica and didgeridoo.
    Sharks are cool, too, I guess. I'm kinda landlocked right now though, so... you know. Limited relevance.
    When I say "sharks are cool, too, I guess" what I really mean is that I literally have a degree in Marine Biology and am extremely bitter that I can't currently do anything with it.

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  1. IC(Isariah, ISV Insight): The restoration work on Khorshid was nothing short of miraculous. The paint job was still a write-off, but engines, weapons, life support... everything that mattered was back to 100%. Hardly believing her luck at landing a contract with clients who had the resources, manpower, and technical expertise to pull this off on such short notice, the mercenary turned to the head of the engineering team assigned to repairing her ship with a grin and a wry shake of her head. "Man, I'd known you Imperials were efficient, but if I'd known it went this far, I'd have signed on a long time ago. Hunting pirates wouldn't be such a trail, you know, if I didn't hae to worry about one unlucky turn putting me dirtside for half a year." The engineer shuffled her feet uncomfortably, and scratched a little behind one ear as she answered uncomfortably. "Well, one thing I should make clear - this is the Inquisitorius, not the Empire proper. We're on good terms with the Imperials, sure, no question, but it's not like you've been enlisted or anything. Gotta remember that our first loyalty is to the Inquisitors themselves; you wouldn't be the first footslogger to earn themselves a reprimand, thinking you've got to jump any time some Outer Rim Moff barks." Isariah nodded, though she'd only half-processed what the engineer had been saying - partway through, she'd suddenly felt sick to her stomach, though it passed just as quickly, leaving her with an awareness that, actually, she was starving. Mumbling a vague thanks, she walked off in search of a mess hall.
  2. IC(Varis Kalaf, ISV Insight): Varis was hanging upside down in her quarters when she felt it. The wave came as an assault on all her senses; the smell of rotting fruit, the pulse and shudder of something moving behind her eyes, muffled sounds that could as easily be sobs as laughter, centipedes under her skin, and the taste, intoxicating and foul, of blood and wine intermingled. Behind it all, above, below and coursing through, were the fear and the hunger, driving hooks into the back of her mind, fighting each other and her own consciousness as she struggled to breathe. When she came to on the floor, the wave had passed, but the taste of blood remained. She winced, picking herself off the floor - bacta was a pain to apply discreetly to a bleeding tongue, and she did not feel like explaining this one to anybody. Still shaken up by the wave, she dusted herself off and left her quarters to look for a medkit. OOC: Treated Varis's experience with the Force wave a bit like a grand mal seizure.
  3. Hey, I have no idea if you'll ever see this. Hope you're doing well!

  4. and then Gal Gadot went ahead and starred in the best movie DC's done so far
  5. IC (Isariah, ISD Insight): The Inquisitorius was nothing if not efficient. After the freelancer's ship had managed to limp into orbit, docking arrangements were made with one of the bays aboard the Star Destroyer, and, following a smooth prisoner transfer, Isariah was now fretting over her beautiful, broken ship as a crew of technicians worked at repairing the damage inflicted by her last job. While she tried to stay out of the techs' way, a mix of curiosity and protectiveness might have made her a little bit of a nuisance. Regarding the prisoners she had transported for the Inquisitors... they'd made their bed. The easy way had been offered to them, and they'd refused it with extreme prejudice. While her gut told her that nothing good awaited them, she couldn't bring herself to feel too worried about it. --- IC (Varis, ISD Insight): In her quarters, Inquisitor Kalaf sat cross-legged on the floor, eyes closed, eyebrows raised, and a tattooing needle raised to the skin of one eyelid. Her left hand moved in quick, precise movements, guided with the aid of the Force to fill in a design within the hemisphere she had already drawn upon that eyelid. As she sat, eyes closed, expression placid, she remembered the view of Taris from space; a shimmering jewel, incandescent, iridescent, alive. And she remembered what she had seen on the ground, what Taris was like up-close. Choked by smog, desiccated, a broken world limping along to no end. Neither vision was really false, but the two could not coexist. Taris the Jewel concealed and denied; Taris the Corpse shattered and stained. Incompatible truths. Past and present, intermingled, at war with themselves and each other, and no clear vision for the future. A beautiful atmosphere did not give the people of Taris hope; the scars of the past did not give them a plan. And so the Zabrak Inquisitor, the seeker of truth, tattooed what she had seen upon her eyelids. As abstract shapes were impressed upon the right, forming the image of a shattered hemisphere, a single tear escaped her eye, running down her cheek as it mingled with the blood inherent to the process.
  6. IC: "Right, so the thing about shoes, see, they're the hardest, like, the physically hardest thing you wear, right?" Cynegild was sitting on top of his liquor cabinet, sipping from a steel thermos of red tea as a group of mercenaries ate roast chicken to celebrate moving the last of his things into his new apartment. Their leader, Drachentocht, lay on a fluffy rug and stared at the ceiling as Cynegild continued talking. "So they're harder than any of your clothes, but what's always the thing that wears out first? I can make a pair of pants last two years if I'm good to them, I've had this shirt, this one with the ruffles? Ten years I've had this shirt. But shoes? Three months, tops." "Picker." A hint of exaggerated patience there, like someone about to explain basic addition to a toddler. "Aye?" "You run along railings and rooftops when you get bored, occasionally jumping off of both. You brought in the New Year by stabbing fascists in the neck and dancing around explosions, and you do much of this in heeled boots that would make King Louis the Fourteenth jealous, and you're asking me to explain to you why your shoes wear out?" There wasn't much sound in the apartment for a few minutes, beyond the occasional slurp as Cynegild drained his tea, but when he set the thermos down with a clink... "Yes. Yes that is absolutely a thing I demand an explanation for."
  7. IC (Isariah): Given the choice, the smuggler decided she would much prefer to carry the unconscious prisoner than the one who was still twitching, and therefore scooped the prisoner up and over her shoulders in a fireman's carry, continuing on, somewhat slower, towards the door. "I'm guessing one of you two is going to carry the other guy? I hope, anyway, I mean... if it's all the same to you, I'd really rather not carry both."
  8. IC: "Alright, while we're on the subject of food, horror, and terrible things you've done, do you have any schematics for the Baconator? I feel like that's the only way I'm ever going to understand exactly what kind of monster you created." "Or have they locked those in a vault and refused to disclose the location to you?"
  9. OOC: ayyyy new computer IC (Isariah): The smuggler - and now, apparently, Inquisitorius hireling - flashed a cheery hand signal to the boss-lady, laid down as generous a tip as she could for her meal, and folded the last of her crabs in a napkin. Nodding to Sgt. Raltz and the Inquisitor assigned to her, she started for the door. "Right then, it's not too far to the drydock I had to leave Khorshid in, but your friend's cunning entrance just might have stirred up a bit of panic on the street, so... ah, you know what? You're trained for this. Just do what you do and we should get there fine, yeah?"
  10. IC: Fairuza continued to stare at the part for a moment, finger hovering only a few centimeters above it, before straightening and turning, slowly, to look at Ben. Her hand was now about as far from the workbench as it could get without her waving it in the air above her head - which, in this working environment, seemed nearly as likely to get her electrocuted. "You and I," she said slowly, "have very different approaches to workbenches, loose parts, and live currents, and I am not really certain whether to be frightened or impressed."
  11. IC(Varis): As the special boy in shining armor laid down suppressing fire against Liare, Varis turned her pistol on the star of every Inquisitor's headache, laying down a stream of fire directly targeting the aggressor so that he could not devote all of his attention to keeping her colleague pinned down. Her aim was a little less than perfect, as she had one hand still keeping her lightsaber ready to deflect incoming fire, but perfection wasn't necessary to make a nuisance of herself. With some regret, she noted that her own options for cover near the door were somewhat less plentiful than the tables and chairs in the bar proper, but moving away from the door would make it too easy for one or more targets to slip out.
  12. I have literally blasted Doom, the bonus track from Beyond the Red Mirror, for about five hours today. Still listening to it.

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