Raksha Keller (soulofhonor) wrote in revoltooc, @ 2020-11-05 14:11:00 |
|
|||
Entry tags: | -player: natasha |
November Logs
Hi, everyone. This is Natasha. Apparently, I'm channeling all my NaNoWrimo energy into RP right now. In addition to tagging in progress logs on gdocs and various masterposts, I wrote up a few starters for characters. If anyone wants to claim them, let me know here or on discord so I can send you a gdoc invitation.
Keller Knitting Trouble
"I hate knitting!" Keller threw her latest attempt down on the floor in front of her crossed legs. Why had she promised to make Allison a scarf? Why had she been so overconfident as to decide on multiple colors? And why didn't she just give up and hope that everyone had forgotten about it, the way Keller had forgotten herself during that horrible week in August?
...Not, Keller had to admit, that it had been so bad at the time. Frightening and frustrating to have no knowledge of who she was or where she came from or what her shifter instincts were telling her. She retrieved the dropped knitting and began to pull absently at the knots. She'd enjoyed visiting the zoo and seeing the tiger cubs explore their habitat for the first time and splash in the pool. And the craft store had been enthralling, although she'd appreciated the textures and colors of the yarn more than the knitting patterns.
The obvious answer to her own rhetorical questions was that Keller hadn't been herself when she volunteered for a project she knew nothing about, and now that she was... admitting defeat would just be too humiliating. She wouldn't be outdone by a pair of aluminum needles. Nor was she going to confess to anyone that she kept multiple balls of yarn in a basket under her bed for the sole purpose of playing with them.
Keller sighed, picked up the blue and silver ball and rolled it toward the door, letting it travel a few feet before lunging after it, shifting enough to extend retractable claws and snag the trailing yarn. It was embarrassingly feline, but it did help her relax between the disaster of a scarf, the paper due tomorrow and a general feeling of unease about current events.
Her ears, extra sensitive in this form, twitched forward at the sound of someone at the door, and she shifted back quickly, sweeping yarn, needles and unfinished 'scarf' into their basket before standing up and hurrying to open it.
Bodhi at Work
This seemed to be the time of year that supply requisitions doubled. It had been the same last November, Bodhi remembered, though they'd been in turmoil for other reasons then - what with Cassian and Anakin and the others all disappearing at once. Every department had requests to be filled before the end of the year holidays and that didn't count all the supplies that appeared to be purely decorative.
Two years ago, Bodhi had never pictured himself heading up a whole department. Long, quiet cargo flights had been his life. A cog in the imperial military machine. He'd been just fine with it, then. And on Scarif. He'd been fine with that, too. Terrified and fairly convinced he was going to die, but reconciled to it when it meant the chance to do something good.
There was that part of Bodhi that knew, from the way it had been in those last moments, from the reaction of each new arrival from their future, that he had died there on Scarif, or would, if he ever went back as Cassian had. SadTech wasn't just a chance at a kind of life he never could have had back home, but a chance at life. That made reviewing orders and scheduling deliveries strangely satisfying.
Still - he thought as he looked towards the office door - he didn't mind an interruption now and then.
Jacqueline at the Gym
Jac would never be the kind of martial artist that Rey or Rose was. She knew that. Nor would she be the marksman that Shepard or Allison was. If she were honest, she didn't really want to be a part of those missions that no one talked about openly. She just wanted to feel not quite so helpless when the trouble inevitably came their way.
Several of her friends had provided help in the past, instructing Jac in defensive moves. Shepard had been giving her marksmanship lessons for much of the past year, despite the occasional setback like bullets turning into bluebirds, sleeping curses, and petrification. The skills Jac was learning might not be any good against those dangers, but they let her feel a little less helpless against physical attacks.
A little.
"So much for practice makes perfect," she muttered to herself as yet another punch failed to move the practice dummy even a little. She bit her lip and then kicked at the target's chest. Prosthetic legs packed a more satisfying level of force. "Better." She didn't notice she'd been observed until she stepped back with a sigh and looked around.
Also feel free to request any other characters or situations.