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srwug_alpha_rp2014-01-10 12:45 pm
armored_fruit) wrote in srwug_alpha_rp2014-01-10 12:45 pm
Entry tags:
06: "Yet each man kills the thing he loves/by each let this be heard..."
[1]
Isaac Sinclair is up on the Chalice deck in the wee hours of the morning, performing sword drills as rosy fingers of dawn stretch out over the horizon.
His strokes are large, brutal and scything, meant to cleave enemies in half. And yet, as he performs this ruthless form of combat...he seems to be calm, collected and at peace.
"By heavenly Jove, Jehovah, and Andraste..." He says quietly, winding down and starring at the rising sun. "Let my blade strike true, and let her hold her living son in her arms again..."
Interject?
[2]
Isaac is calling his mother in one of the Chalice's comm booths, hopping up and down on the balls of his beat as he listens to the dial tone. Finally, someone picks up on the other end.
"Mother Sinclair!" He calls out. "Oh, so many marvelous thing have happened last we talked! I know not where to start, but I think that at last, after so long, good fortune's c–!"
A sharp, muffled voice cuts him off. Isaac winces, then listens. And from the outside you can see his face turn pale.
"Oh Gods."
Eavesdrop?
[3]
Isaac sends a general comm transmission to everyone aboard the White Chalice...with the exception of Cora.
He looks really wild-eyed...and a bit gaunt.
"Does anyone here know a good barrister? A talented attorney who does pro-bono work, and is licensed to practice in Britannia? If anyone knows anything, or wishes to earn the eternal friendship of the Sinclair family..."
His voice trails off. "...please, help."
[4]
[Locked to all but one]
Come nighttime, Isaac is out of sight, huddled away in the corner of the main hanger, behind some of the logistics crates for the Dullahan team.
Slumped against a wall, sheathed family sword in his lap. After starring blankly into space for a moment, some focus comes back into them.
"There must be something I can do!" He hisses to himself, drawing his sword several inches out of his sheath. "Something!"
Footsteps echo through the dark, empty hanger. Isaac looks up, and inhales sharply. "You!"
Isaac Sinclair is up on the Chalice deck in the wee hours of the morning, performing sword drills as rosy fingers of dawn stretch out over the horizon.
His strokes are large, brutal and scything, meant to cleave enemies in half. And yet, as he performs this ruthless form of combat...he seems to be calm, collected and at peace.
"By heavenly Jove, Jehovah, and Andraste..." He says quietly, winding down and starring at the rising sun. "Let my blade strike true, and let her hold her living son in her arms again..."
Interject?
[2]
Isaac is calling his mother in one of the Chalice's comm booths, hopping up and down on the balls of his beat as he listens to the dial tone. Finally, someone picks up on the other end.
"Mother Sinclair!" He calls out. "Oh, so many marvelous thing have happened last we talked! I know not where to start, but I think that at last, after so long, good fortune's c–!"
A sharp, muffled voice cuts him off. Isaac winces, then listens. And from the outside you can see his face turn pale.
"Oh Gods."
Eavesdrop?
[3]
Isaac sends a general comm transmission to everyone aboard the White Chalice...with the exception of Cora.
He looks really wild-eyed...and a bit gaunt.
"Does anyone here know a good barrister? A talented attorney who does pro-bono work, and is licensed to practice in Britannia? If anyone knows anything, or wishes to earn the eternal friendship of the Sinclair family..."
His voice trails off. "...please, help."
[4]
[Locked to all but one]
Come nighttime, Isaac is out of sight, huddled away in the corner of the main hanger, behind some of the logistics crates for the Dullahan team.
Slumped against a wall, sheathed family sword in his lap. After starring blankly into space for a moment, some focus comes back into them.
"There must be something I can do!" He hisses to himself, drawing his sword several inches out of his sheath. "Something!"
Footsteps echo through the dark, empty hanger. Isaac looks up, and inhales sharply. "You!"