Number Five | The Lorien Legacies (![[info]](https://www.insanejournal.com/img/userinfo.gif){kind=small} externa) wrote in ![[info]](https://www.insanejournal.com/img/community.gif){kind=small} toboldlyrpg,@ 2017-06-19 01:25:00 |
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| Entry tags: | allison argent | teen wolf, number five | the lorien legacies |
WHO: Number Five and OPEN TO ALL
WHEN: Just after his arrival
WHERE: The Corridors
SUMMARY: Exploring
WARNINGS: Talk of death, injury, war
Five couldn't believe he was on a spaceship again. He'd had enough of spaceships in his life. His earliest memories took place upon the one that had brought them to earth after the destruction of Lorien. They'd tried to make it comfortable for them, but they were nine scared kids who were too young to really have understood the magnitude of what had just happened. He'd pretty much just stayed with his chimera, petting its calico fur. It was pretty much the only small comfort that he'd had.
Then, he'd been on the Mogadorian ship. First it had been by choice, when he'd betrayed his people. Then he'd been a prisoner. He'd finally escaped, earning himself the limp he'd have forever. Laying on his bunk, he reached down and rubbed his leg at the memory.
Now, the war with the Mogs was over. Everyone had gone their own separate ways. He'd nearly died, but managed to fly himself to an island similar to the one he'd lived on with Albert, before his cepan had died. He had scars - more than he could count - but that didn't matter. He'd never been one of the good looking ones anyway. The important thing was that he'd survived. That was always the important part.
Sitting up, he stood, stretching a little before heading out into the corridors. There was nobody waiting outside of his cabin to stop him, so he figured that they didn't mind. And if they did, well, they could tell him that themselves.
He had no idea what time of day it was. The corridors were fully lit, so that gave him no indication. He ran his hand along the strange metal that made the walls, letting his externa activate until he became the same material. He didn't know what it was, but it felt strong. Good to know.
Reaching a card access area, he held out his card, but the box turned red and denied him access. He tried again. And again. At the third failure he gave a growl of frustration, slamming his hand against the sensor in fury. No matter what they said, it seemed like he was a prisoner again. And this time, he wasn't going to stand idly by and let it happen.
Then, he'd been on the Mogadorian ship. First it had been by choice, when he'd betrayed his people. Then he'd been a prisoner. He'd finally escaped, earning himself the limp he'd have forever. Laying on his bunk, he reached down and rubbed his leg at the memory.
Now, the war with the Mogs was over. Everyone had gone their own separate ways. He'd nearly died, but managed to fly himself to an island similar to the one he'd lived on with Albert, before his cepan had died. He had scars - more than he could count - but that didn't matter. He'd never been one of the good looking ones anyway. The important thing was that he'd survived. That was always the important part.
Sitting up, he stood, stretching a little before heading out into the corridors. There was nobody waiting outside of his cabin to stop him, so he figured that they didn't mind. And if they did, well, they could tell him that themselves.
He had no idea what time of day it was. The corridors were fully lit, so that gave him no indication. He ran his hand along the strange metal that made the walls, letting his externa activate until he became the same material. He didn't know what it was, but it felt strong. Good to know.
Reaching a card access area, he held out his card, but the box turned red and denied him access. He tried again. And again. At the third failure he gave a growl of frustration, slamming his hand against the sensor in fury. No matter what they said, it seemed like he was a prisoner again. And this time, he wasn't going to stand idly by and let it happen.