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Post by Malcolm Reynolds on Mar 27, 2006 17:14:10 GMT -5
“Not only am I insulted by that, but passing off a short stack of foldable that bear the Alliance mark seems like more of a curse to me. Now why don’t we just finish the deal and part in good company?” Things were going south and right quick. Captain Reynolds knew this tune all too well. “Did you wanna tell me why I’m sitting here looking at three hundred dollars in paper instead of the platinum we agreed upon?”
Mal’s eyes narrowed into slits as he sized up the man in front of him. He leaned further across the table, the subtle creak of his leather gun belt just barely audible. The contact was a self important son of a whore who ran a small operation on the Ita Moon by the name of Clay Bidwell. Mal knew his kind all too well. He’d seen men of similar pride in the military. Officers who thought themselves above the code of men; these sort having no reservation about sending whole squadrons off to their death if they thought it would serve to hold back the alliance; the kind of men who rationalized friendly fire as a necessary tactic.
“Chur ni-duh! [screw you] Three hundred quid is more than fair after all the trouble you brought with you.” The trouble Clay spoke of lay dead on the floor; a Fed who had tracked Serenity from the heist and attempted to arrest the lot of them only a few minutes earlier. Mal allowed a small smirk to flicker over his lips before his face dropped to a deadpan. “I’m afraid I’ll have to consult my friend…” Bidwell thumbed back the hammer of the weapon mounted to the bottom of the table. “…and would you look at that, Mr. Smith & Wesson thinks you aught to take what I’m offering else he’ll have something to say about it.” Blue eyes widened as he realized Clay had him marked from moment one. He sized up his options. Flip the table, possibly get shot point blank in the chest by a sawed off shotgun blast… Go for his own weapon or simply wait for…
“cha-chick!”
Zoë wore a cold unreadable expression as she aimed her sidearm for Bidwell’s temple. “Easy now… we just didn’t realize how strongly you felt about it.” Captain Reynolds held his hands up in retreat as he slowly pushed out of his chair and reached down to grab up the bills. His eyes never left the mark, Zoë’s hand never wavered, and Bidwell mirrored Mal’s steely stare. Just as the pads of his fingers touched down on the paper, a serving maid dropped a tray full of crockery. It proved enough of a distraction for Mal to dive over the table knocking Clay from his chair and sending coin and cash askew.
The blast of the shotgun rang out as fire licked off the double barrel. A fist flew and Mal was tossed overhead and onto another table, breaking it to bits along with assortment of glasses and drink. Zoë brought the shotgun about, sizing up to take a shot when she was grabbed from behind. The long barrel knocked from her grasp. The entire bar was an immediate mass of shouting voices, breaking glass and swinging fists. Jayne had been leaning into his glass at the counter until this change of tune drew his attention. His head perked up revealing a grin of satisfaction mixed with eagerness. Tipping his glass back, Jayne finished his drink and began to "barfight" his way to the Captain and the First Mate.
Mal drew his weapon and jammed the hammer back with the side of his hand. AS he fired a bottle smashed over the back of his head, throwing his aim off and knocking him to his knees. The bullet grazed Bidwell’s cheek cutting an angry line across the skin. He cursed, his gloved hand slapping against his wound. With a snarl Clay exited the vicinity, he wasn’t going to get a clean shot at Malcolm there was just too much chaos. Zoë struck downward with the butt of her shotgun, knocking Mal’s would-be assassin unconscious before reaching her hand down. “You alright sir?” “Oh yea..." he shot a wry grin, "I'm just peachy.” The cynicism in his voice was thick. “Come on, we best get off world.”
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Post by H. "Wash" Washburn on Mar 27, 2006 17:24:05 GMT -5
Sometimes Wash was content in his own little bubble, sometimes he was a voice of reason, others he babbled as much crazy talk as the rest of the small mis-mashed crew of the Serenity. A late model of Firefly that he was the pilot of. Then there probably wasn’t anyone much better than Wash was for flying that boat. Even when parts flew off mid flight. Somehow he seemed to avoid major landing mishaps. Then again there were those times where he thought they’d all crash and burn, of course he wasn’t going to say anything about that. Call it fate. Or karma, somehow they always landed, one way or another.
Boots were kicked up as he leaned back in his chair, in each hand was a plastic dinosaur. Half of the team was down and out, taking care of a job. Kaylee was busy trying to make repairs with minimal amounts of supplies, while Simon refused to allow his sister River to be any part of a plan. Wash couldn’t really blame him for wanting to protect his sister, he tried to be the one to protect his wife Zoe, but more often that not it was her protecting him. “Grr. Rawr.” “Wash baby, come in.” The pilot jerked up right booted feet landing on the ground as hand fumbled for the communicator. “Huh, what. Uh yeah?” “We need a pick up. And fast.”
The tone in his wife’s, and first mate of the Serenity, voice stirred him and he fired the ship up, with little warning to the crew still within. The call meant something didn’t go according to plan. With them it never seemed to anyway. Another mess. Another swoop and grab. The boosters fired up and the rumble filled the ship, almost echoing until they reached space, easing up, Wash looked behind him hearing voices. The voice was that of one of the more rugged crew members, Jayne. “Least we got paid this time.” Wash moved to greet the others that the boat was on a clear course. “Oh goodie. Does that mean we get to eat.” “You want to eat something little man? I’ll give you something to eat.” “Jayne, how many times do I have to tell you? I’m a wedded man. Were circumstances differently…” Not thrilled about the sarcasam, Jayne looked ready to throttle him as he moved, ducking next to the comfort of his wife, Zoe, putting an arm around her shoulder. “So I take it there were…uhm, complications.”
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Zoë Warren
Threat
Take me, sir. Take me hard.
Posts: 7
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Post by Zoë Warren on Mar 27, 2006 17:27:46 GMT -5
Zoë wiped scalp hair and blood from the butt of her rifle, as the trio meandered back to Serenity. She knew Malcolm wasn’t in the mood to talk, and beside the point Jane was doing enough for all three. The engine exhaust kicked up as Wash lowered the ship, warming her skin and blowing curls of caramel and chocolate about wildly. They were on the edge of town, standing there with a near perfect silhouette as the sun set. Her shapely frame was outlined on the faded blue sky, and Malcolm Reynolds’ split-back coat fluttered back away from his hips revealing the butt of his weapon. Yes, a near perfect sight had it not been for the refrigerator shaped Merc who was running his mouth.
She glanced to Mal as he bushed past, and then let her gaze trail over to the face she always looked forward to coming home to. Zoë wasn’t much of a warm person before she met Wash. Perhaps the only person who ever really got to her softer side was Malcolm, and only after the man had saved her life. Her time in the war wasn’t something she vocalized much, but unlike Captain Reynolds, she did actually speak of it at times. Wash being the one who knew the most, who was the only person to see her cry since that night at Serenity.
“Just a minor tussle,” she smiled warmer at the pressure of Wash’s arm about her waist. She turn about kissed his forehead, and then leaned back a bit. “That’s right honey… if I find you and Jayne making out in the cargo bay again we’re gonna have to look into some counseling.” Her tone was deadpan as she carried the joke a little further into the gutter. “Good news though,” she added as they walked the stairs together. “While our good Captain here was getting himself into trouble I managed to find us a decent contact!” Her tone was upbeat and she shot Mal a knowing look.
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Post by Malcolm Reynolds on Mar 27, 2006 17:30:32 GMT -5
“Funny I don’t remember asking for your gorram opinion on the matter.” Mal was in a ripe mood, his boots thudding heavily against the floor panels as he walked past the green-clad mercenary. Once again Zoë and their reckless, yet invaluable pilot Wash were being overly adorable. Despite his initial thoughts on their relationship it always made him glad to see her content. She was a real mess for the first few years after the war, even if she never showed it on the outside. Malcolm knew her better than most. And he also he knew the demons she carried with her.
Although his mind was at the moment not focused on the past, it was on the future, and getting Serenity off world. Pausing for a moment he leaned against the catwalk railing, calling over to the happy couple and breaking up the tender moment. “Don’t let her fool you; I was right on top a-things. Figured she’d have a better chance at finagling since she’s so much softer on the eyes. You did remember to return that finery to the brothel didn’t you?” “Yes Sir… and I do say you looked mighty fine in that little number,” Zoë shot back.
“You know my weakness for little cotton dresses,” he smirked, “Wash get us off the rock and pointed toward Persephone.” Immediately his tone went from jovial to militant. It was just his quirked sense of humor. Life on Serenity was at times as dysfunctional as any family. Boots clanked against metal stairs as he quickly worked though the innards of the ship on his way toward the medical bay. He didn’t want the Doc to do his usual, springing to life anytime someone came close to the sterile room, to see if he could offer a band-aid. And this time, he was thankfully granted a respite from the stiff.
Rummaging quickly though one of the drawers Mal found a disposable icepack and a few other things he was going to need. Leaning over the small sink he unscrewed the brown bottle of hydrogen peroxide and began to pour it over the beck of his neck and head. He winced and poured again, the wound foaming up as it disinfected. Pink tinged peroxide pooled in the sink and speckled the counter. The back of his white shirt was stained with bright blood and there were still pieces of glass clinging to his blood-tacky skin. “Rutting son-of-a….” Mal cursed.
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Post by H. "Wash" Washburn on Mar 27, 2006 17:31:05 GMT -5
Hoban Washburn, who was rather fondly referred to as just plain Wash, had an interesting way about him. Not overly so. Just a slight quirk. They all had one. It was his growing up on a poisoned planet, never being able to see the starts that made him want to be a pilot. When he took on to the Serenity, it wasn’t exactly what he’d bargained for. However he was part of the crew. Part of the family. Without him they wouldn’t have gotten out of as many situations as they had. While each person had something to give to this boat, for Wash it was his flying.
A lopsided grin grew upon his face at his wife’s simple welcome. Zoe was a fighter. She always had been. Always would be. He knew that, for him, she was his other half. They were that for each other. If backed into a corner Wash would do anything to protect her, and he brought out a softer side she never showed. The grin grew at her comment. “I wouldn’t dream of it. ‘Sides, Jaynes to sloppy a kisser. Slobbers all over the place.” “What was that?” His hand took hers as they started to climb the stairs together, however the moment wasn’t going to last as Mal’s voice stopped Jayne’s. Of course banter like that was norm for the ship, and would have continued.
The blonde pilot looked past his wife to their Captain Malcolm Reynolds. Then listed to the remarks said between Zoe and he, before piping in his own comment in a carefree tone. “I’ll have to take Zoe’s word that I’m sure you looked awful purdy, why shucks darhling sad to have missed it.” “You know my weakness for little cotton dresses. Wash get us off the rock and pointed towards Persephone.” A brow arched at the quick change and knew ‘play-time’ was over. “Do you plan on telling the pilot why he’s changing course?” But by the time Wash had questioned, Mal was already gone. Off to lick his wounds he supposed, looking back towards the soft chocolate skin of his wife’s face. She didn’t give him much of an answer save a pat on his head.
Idly muttering he made his way back towards the ships controls and did as he was instructed, in no time the boat was on her way. They all were. Looking over his shoulder to a sound his blue eyes glanced upon the honey hues of Zoe’s and smirked. “So, how much would it have cost me to see you in a number like that?”
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Post by Kaylee Frye on Mar 27, 2006 17:48:28 GMT -5
Sometimes Kaylee felt like the odd woman out. Especially here on the Serenity. With a puff of air long bangs were blown from her forehead after finishing minor repairs. Like each of them on the crew, she had a talent. A talent for fixing this ship. Her home. The one tangible thing she could really cling to. She was a smart girl, but she was often more up beat than most of the crew seemed to like. It was perhaps her way of protecting herself.
“Wash!” Came her yelp from the engine room as the Firefly burst to life, off on another rescue. She hadn’t been prepared. Stumbling over the metal panel yet to be replaced, she felt the cold contact of a metal beam that happened to break her fall. With a silently uttered curse she lifted herself up after the boat steadied and the rest of the crew got on board. Dusting her hands off she finished replacing the panel just before movement once again as they became air and space born. Walking down the corridors she saw Jayne grumbling heading towards his quarters. She waved a hello and he stopped for a moment, pointing to his own forehead “Kaylee doll, your bleeding.”
Eyes almost seemed to become rounder as fingers moved up to feel the warm trickle she’d managed to knock into herself. And Jayne locked himself away. “Oh…” She sighed and started towards the medical room. Simon wasn’t there, he’d been down in the cargo hold with his sister River. Doing that brother sister bonding, that only they seemed to share. Moving in she stopped suddenly hearing a voice. Not just any voice, the voice of the Captain. “Rutting son-of-a…” “Captain, are you all right?” The good natured girl moved closer spotting the glass he couldn’t quite get. Stepping up behind him her fingers quickly pulled it from his flesh. And she could feel the involuntary twitch he made. “Ohps. Sorry. I can’t fix you up good as Simon, but I’m sure I can help. Fixed this boat plenty of enough times. How hard can a human be, right? Doesn’t look like anything major. Did you know you were pouring more of that on the ground than yourself? Oh, I also fixed the cup-link that was giving us problems. I couldn’t find the right part, so I had to improvise. Should hold though.”
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Zoë Warren
Threat
Take me, sir. Take me hard.
Posts: 7
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Post by Zoë Warren on Mar 27, 2006 17:49:27 GMT -5
“Given our new job you might just get your wish,” Zoë informed him quietly. It wasn’t an exaggeration. The job was on Persephone, in a higher end section of town, a place where during the last visit had seen their Captain in a word fight over Inara’s honor. But it wasn’t her place to start spouting the details of Serenity’s latest caper that was Captain Reynolds’s job. She was content to just make sure that the ship’s bearing held true. It was a long ride and they had plenty of time to go over the sordid details.
The couple walked to the bridge, arms linked together, whispering promises bedroom theatrics until Wash settled into the overstuffed pilot’s seat. She took her place behind his chair, giving him ample room while he programmed the coordinates. “The truth of the matter is that Clay wasn’t altogether honest with what he was willing to offer us. And I suspect that Mal is beside himself with worry about whether or not we’re gonna have the funds to fuel up when we stop off at the Eavesdown Docks.”
She gave her hubby a warning look as she went into the next lot of details. “I’m not terribly happy with how we left things on Ita. Clay Bidwell worries me almost as much as Adelei Niska. Zoë didn’t have to elaborate. The last time the crew had any dealings with Niska, Wash and Mal had undergone a rigorous session of torture that rivaled the horrors she’d seen in the war. She was lulled into a contented silence as she felt out Hoban’s shoulder, her tough giving him a sense of reassurance that she wasn’t about to let anything like that happen to him again.
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Post by Malcolm Reynolds on Mar 27, 2006 17:50:13 GMT -5
He heard footfalls and immediately assumed it was the doctor. His frame tensed in anticipation of the bellowing complaint about the state of the medical bay. He and Simon often butt heads regarding the way Mal disrespected the sterile environment. But as Mal often expressed, it was ‘his gorram ship’ so most of the disputes the doctor argued were mute, doctorate degree or naught. “Simon I’m not really in the best of moods right now, I’ll get your precious med lab in order as- Oh Kaylee! Sorry though you were…” he grinned sheepishly. His frame relaxed as his ears heard Kaylee’s voice, only to tense up at the unexpected touch of her fingers on the back of his neck. “I’m fine real-ah!”
She thought the twitch was a pain response, and in that respect she was better off. Who was he to tell her otherwise? Kaylee was half his age and an innocent at that. She didn’t need to have an old curmudgeon like him holding a torch for her. Last thing Mal wanted was to infect her with the demons he carried; Let alone letting on that he’d been soft on her since she signed on. Mal remembered the promise he’d made her father to keep her safe, and there were other factors that kept them apart, the doctor for one. A fella had to be blind not to notice the attraction that existed between them. No it was better to keep her, and anyone he was soft on at a distance. He doubted he was even capable of letting anyone in anymore.
Sandy brown locks fell into his eyes as he crooked his head back. “Ta ma duh!” [fuck me blind] “Is that my fault? Shuh muh [sorry] Kaylee I should have shouted back that we were shoving off in a rush.” Mal blindly felt out the folded square of gauze, pressing it gently against the abrasion on her forehead and making a face of sympathy. He stared just a few seconds too long into her eyes before forcing a cough and looking to the floor.
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Post by Kaylee Frye on Mar 27, 2006 17:50:57 GMT -5
Kaylee was the youngest of the crew on the Serenity, and most likely the most innocent. She wasn’t with out her faults. Her own ghosts. No one ever knew that was all. All her life growing up she was a tom-boy, even still. But that didn’t mean she didn’t seek after attention. Friends. Companionship. In that regard sometimes she felt a little lonely on the ship. Her weight shifted as she smiled brightly. One of those the glass is half-full types, always trying to look on the positive. “It’s all right. I must be a shock to see a dirty girl out from hiding in the engine room. Oh, don’t worry Captain. I won’t tell Simon. I’ll clean it up and he’d never know the wiser.”
She always had the sweetest disposition, maybe sometimes too sweet. Some might of though her off her rocker for being with this crew. Or being upbeat in dire situations, but it was how she made it through. Eyes looked to the back of Mal’s neck, whipping away some of the drying blood with her sleeve. “Rough time, huh. I heard Jayne muttering and cursing. Guess he’s not happy. At least maybe on Persephone I might be able to scrounge up some decent salvage parts for the boat.” She bit her bottom lip a moment. She didn’t want to let Mal down ever. She still remembered her first time on the ship as part of the crew. The promise he made to her father. She had her own secret one.
Fates didn’t always seem in her favor however. Mal and Inara, the companion who once lived with them on this ship here and there. Had history. Even if it was an interesting one. She couldn’t compare to that kind of beauty, especially when she was usually smudged with oil, grease and the musky smell from fixing Serenity. Even when Simon came aboard she tried to be almost overly friendly. Sometimes she felt over looked. But she understood. Simon’s devotion was to his sister River. Form flinched at the captains yell. “Sorry.” Her eyes danced back and forth before she sighed slightly looking down. Then felt the pressure on her forehead and glanced up. “I don’t blame you Mal. If anyone it’s Wash’s fault. Not really. More mine. I shouldn’t have left the panel lying in the middle of my path. But she’s good for now, running smoother than last month. She’s a good ship Captain.” Her lips pursed a moment in though. Why couldn't she ever think of anything better to talk about than the ship or mechanics.
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Post by H. "Wash" Washburn on Mar 27, 2006 17:51:37 GMT -5
The smile he held faded slightly with her tone. He’d come to know Zoe as a serious woman. She’d say what was on her mind before keeping silent. Part of what he loved about her. The couple made soft promises to each other, Wash loved any moment he could get alone with his wife. Sometimes it wasn’t enough and now they all had their jobs to do. Fingers moved touching the screen, as the coordinates were saved into the console and they were on their course. “When is Clay ever altogether honest in what he wants to offer us. Were just his little pony in all. Don’t worry hon, we’ll work out something. Always do. Even if it is borrowing that fuel from another ship.”
Wash looked forwards to the vast spannings of the Verse. He knew even if they didn’t plan it, there was going to be trouble on Persephone. Trouble hung around them like the stink on a dead dog. Perhaps it was all part in partial. He started to turn to look up at his wife as she continued speaking and stopped. Very suddenly it felt as if his blood had been replaced by ice cold. He could hear and feel his heart rate quicken. To look straight at him one would have thought his eyes glazed over.
For him it all seemed differently. The horror of those memories flashed before his eyes. All the sounds. Smells. Even some of the pains. He and Mal had been taken, strapped up and tortured. He wanted to yell out at the very thought but voice caught. Instead jaw clenched as his mind replayed the entire event. Shock after painful shock. Chest tingled with the phantom pains of it all. Zoe had saved him. But it was Mal that had kept him alive. Wash had never been a soldier, never really knew those demons. Though that experience he did, and it haunted him. If Mal hadn’t paid attention. Hadn’t been there. Wash shuttered to think what would have happened. Each zap left him weaker and weaker. Until it was Mal’s voice and talk about Zoe that kept him focused on something other than the pain.
The blonde pilot hung his head, gripping the steering controls of the Serenity. When a touch brought him around. A soft touch that was only given to him. Breath released from being held in. Left hand released the steering control and placed upon his wife’s hand on his shoulder. He thanked God every day for her. For her strength. Her love. Support. Something he hoped he gave back to her. His choked voice whispered. “No. Niska is far more diabolical.”
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Post by Malcolm Reynolds on Mar 27, 2006 17:53:07 GMT -5
“If you think misdirecting the blame to Wash is gonna get me on your good side, well – you’re right it will.” Mal’s eyes lit up a bit as the tension he’d been carrying slipped back a notch. Of all the people on this heap of metal, Kaylee was the best one to cheer someone up, and when Mal was in a funk, he was the hardest nut to crack. His hand had yet to release the square of cotton, and for a few lingering moments while his mouth struggled to find something to talk about, anything just to keep her here in this room with him for a few more minutes he heard a voice at the door.
“What’s going on in here? Simon’s tone was no dissimilar to that of a parent scolding a child. Mal immediately withdrew from Kaylee, walking toward the door to make an exit. “Just a scratch, don’t worry I got it under control. No need to get yourself all a flutter. I know how much you like snappin’ on the latex…” Mal’s eyes twinkled as he looked for a reaction on the doctor’s face. Part of being on the crew was the ability to dish out and take large helpings of biting humor. As he pushed past the stuffed shirt he called back without turning to face them. “We got a meetin’ – 1700!”
Malcolm made his way to his bunk, his hand gripping the cold metal bar as he shoved the stairs forward, allowing access. Boots clink-clanked downward, and before long he was in the shower. Steam rose from the open top of the glassed in shower, and water ran down the metal slab walls encasing the occupant. The Captain breathed a steady sigh, as he choked down the anger that welled up. She was inside his head again, tormenting him with desires he knew he couldn’t undertake.
His blue-grey eyes slipped closed his thoughts turned inward. His head dipped down, and both hands pressed against the back wall. Hot scalding water ran down the back of his neck and between impressively strong shoulder blades. For a man pressing forty, Malcolm Reynolds was in better shape then most men in their twenties. His hand turned the spigot handle with a squeak ceasing the water. Wiping steam from the silvered mirror he reached to the back of the sink snapping open the old fashioned blade. Head tilted from side to side as he studied his face, looking his haggard features over before he began to shave. Stepping out the bathroom with a puff of steam, a white towel about his middle, Mal looked a bit more refreshed. His wet hair was stained dark brown with moisture and it dripped on the floorboards as he bent to open his footlocker.
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Post by River Tam on Mar 27, 2006 17:57:21 GMT -5
It was no secret that River was used to sleeping in the safety of her brothers room on a cot… but sometimes she wanted to feel safer-yet her mind would race to who and what she could trust… and in the long run, that would be only her brother. No thank you. River wasn’t a weirdo, she was just psychotic, there’s a difference. She just needed that little bit of ‘I will always be here for you’ from other people, and as of right now… well she felt it only coming from her brother.
Every now and then, River would stretch her legs and walk around the room, a room she had been left alone in… fixing crooked things, doing things that was what Human Beings called… Obsessive-Compulsive. Words, thoughts, programs, hell even cures for the incurable would race through her mind-but she would only dismiss it as useless babble. River, once one of the smartest minds-and technically still so-couldn’t even distinguish babble from a theory.
Right now she seemed to be in one of those moods where she just needed to get the hell out. So, despite Simon’s constant plea with her not to leave unless he was with her… she ventured out on her own, dragging her fingertips along the wall. How she enjoyed the maze that was the Serenity. Idly she wondered what everyone else was doing-especially that quirky redhead who played with toys. “Toys…” she laughed slightly to herself before stopping by the step ladder.
Eyes went up towards the bay above her. Yes she would venture up there. It would be fun. Smirking she touched the bottom rungs and began to climb-that’s when she saw it. “Intollerance for the damned and a sad child to see his family fall apart.” She mumbled to herself before shaking her head. The vision of the revolution on a far away planet, one that split the family in two and left a child an orphan shot in her head. Sad… however, that WAS what she went through in a way. She HAD been left to the blue hands of those evil men. “Evil men…” she nodded to herself before standing within the bay.
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Zoë Warren
Threat
Take me, sir. Take me hard.
Posts: 7
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Post by Zoë Warren on Mar 27, 2006 17:57:55 GMT -5
She regretted bringing up the name as soon as she said it. Dredging up memories of the past, of the time Wash and Malcolm were tortured was not something she wished for her beloved to have to mull over. It was hard enough just watching the outer wounds heal. But for Zoë, guiding her husband though the days and weeks that were to follow was almost a healing process for the both of them… hell they were still healing.
Maybe in the long run Hoban had been right. Perhaps that field trip with Mal served some sort of purpose in the grand scheme of it. She’d never felt closer to him, never trusted him more, or wanted to fold herself into him any harder than she had the night he was returned to her. “Wife soup.” That’s what he called her sad attempt at cooking. She’d really tried her best on it too, but sadly he’d never even gotten a taste. Maybe it was for the best, he’d already undergone enough torture.
“I’m sorry I brought it up, I just worry is all. Something about him just never sits well with me. I don’t like dealing with him. But you know how it is… when the Captain makes up his mind on something.” Zoë paused for a moment, smiling at the thought of a brighter topic, “Oh and don’t think I’ve forgotten your promise to buy me a slinky dress when we land on Persephone.” Her arm snaked about his torso, a kiss was planted on his head, and then she withdrew. “We best get downstairs for the meeting, I’m sure the Captain is waiting.”
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Post by H. "Wash" Washburn on Mar 27, 2006 17:58:58 GMT -5
Wash knew Zoe hadn’t meant for him to have brought that up again. Those memories. Those nightmares. It was something they were both overcoming. More so him. Kaylee once told him out of darkness comes something wonderful. Like a butterfly out of a cocoon he supposed. Memories of the past were never easily looked back upon or buried away again. At least the painful ones. But all in all it had been an experience that set things in motion.
Thumb stroked against his wife’s soft skin. A sign that meant he understood her silent stance. Knew what she was thinking. How she was feeling. As a couple their bond was stronger than it had ever been. Hoban was sure now nothing save death could tear them apart. No not even that. And that was something he wasn’t planning on doing anytime soon. He rather liked being alive. Zoe had even attempted cooking for him, which he affectionately called “Wife Soup”. Zoe wasn’t exactly the domestic type. The thought of it meant more to him, even if he never tasted it. Instead he took her away to their bunk. And away from the teasing of Malcolm.
“I know. Time heals all right.” He wanted to believe that, but he knew he’d still have those scars to carry. A hint of his carefree smile broke again as she talked about the slinky dress he promised to buy her. Steadying the course and the auto pilot Wash stood. Placing his hands upon Zoe’s curved hips. “Why yes of course, missus. Remind me to get that money from Jayne and the captain. And after were done, I should take you in a manly fashion.” Perhaps looking at them one couldn’t see how they were a married couple. But to be around them, to know them together. And as each other, it was plain as day. He pouted some as she started to move away. “Aw, he can wait a moment longer. At least ten moments longer.” Leaning forward Wash grinned, before puckering his lips as large as they would go towards his loved one.
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Post by Kaylee Frye on Mar 27, 2006 18:00:00 GMT -5
“Well see I knew you weren’t the frumpy old man, type. Er, not saying your old. Or, or frumpy.” She smiled lightly. Kaylee was sometimes a babbler, and a rambler. Often speaking almost like gibberish especially when it came to the ship. Instead of huge mechanical terms, it was more like talking about a sick cousin or the like. Cheeks appled as she smiled more looking up towards Mal, seeing his mood was improving somewhat, when a voice cleared and she glanced over her shoulder. There stood the resident Doctor, Simon.
“What’s going on here?” For a moment Kaylee felt like she’d been caught with here hand in the cookie jar. When the Captain pulled away from her she stood up a little straighter. “Nothing. We weren't sharing a moment or anything if that's what you were asking. I mean you know. Cause I love my captain…Well, and you. Um, Wash and Zoe. River. Even Jayne.” “You love Jayne?” “Sure and this ship. Most of all this ship.” Simon seemed a bit confused at the young female mechanic and her response. It made sense in a way. Though part of it almost seemed like mid-trying to speak she had an oops moment. Like if keeping a secret.
She watched the brief interaction between the Captain and the Doctor. They were always baiting at each other. Quick responses, one liners. Of course Simon usually lost at that. He was far too proper. Kaylee couldn’t even remember a time when she saw his hair mussed. Mal stepped out calling back into the room about the meeting. Brushing hair from her forehead she moved up towards Simon. “Are you sure your ok, Kaylee?” “Of course, just a little scuff. Nothing really. Happened during take off. Where’s River?” “Exploring. She knows I hate when she does that. But I hate keeping her cooped up.” The softly curled mousy brown haired girl nodded before stepping out herself towards the usual area they had meetings. Knocking on Jaynes door as she went. She wondered what the next job was, if it was on Persephone it had to be something big.
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