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ten_fwd_mods) wrote in
ten_fwd_ooc2014-11-16 07:46 am
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TEST DRIVE #6 - The Bridge and Ten Forward

Option 01. Ten Forward: The first thing you see is a bar. A large, lively bar filled with many different faces and many different smells, sights and sounds. This is Ten Forward, the Enterprise's off-duty lounge; feel free to get acquainted with your fellow travelers and try to find somebody who's in charge: this is your new home now, after all...

Option 02. The Bridge: Well, aren't you a lucky duck? You've found yourself in hallowed quarters. Wherever you were before, you're not there anymore. Now you're in a room that could be some kind of command center or control room; there's a captain's chair flanked by seats for his chief officers, computer panels and stations at each interior wall, and before you a broad viewscreen that shows the wide expanse of space rushing towards you. Have you ever wanted to be a starship captain for a day? Well, here's your chance. Feel free to roam around, but try not to touch anything shiny.
[OOC: The Bridge isn't usually available for in-game posts, so if you've ever wanted to play there, here's your chance!]
no subject
He tilts his head, understanding exactly what the possible-Fae is saying, but it's a difficult task for him to respond. He's never learned to move his throat and beak around speech like some of the other sounds he could make. Hm.
Well, he knows what he'd want to say if he did have his mouth, the shape of the word. And he's a gloriously smart bird, surely he can figure this out.
It takes a few minutes before he opens his beak, feathers at his throat puffing as he pulls in air, and says: "Moors."
Maybe that's what it sounds like, anyway. It might just sound like an odd squawk.
no subject
He raises his dyed eyebrows and blinks a couple times, transparent inner bird-eyelids flashing under his human ones, and ventures another question. "Did you used to be human?"
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At any rate, he shakes his head in response to the question. He's human sometimes, when his mistress needs him to be, or simply wants to have a conversation with him, but he's always been a raven first and foremost.
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With the ease of practice he shifts his weight and stands on one spindly leg, using a clawed toe of the other like a finger as he writes, scratching, on the deck. To his pigeon eyes, sensitive to a very wide range of colors, his claw leaves faint lines on the surface, from the oils his body produces. He writes out a number, and watches the deck around it. Nothing happens. Julien sighs and sags in place. "You're probably not numbered, either."
no subject
He tilts his head questioningly--he's been many things, but 'numbered' is not one of them. He thinks. He's not quite sure what you mean by that.
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"But I guess you're not one. And you probably don't have any more of an idea about this place than I do." He scans the bridge again, the bird eyelids showing in the corners of his eyes. "It's like something out of TV. Too bad I was never big on science fiction."
no subject
He simply shakes his head again, making a low chirruping sound before tilting his head to signify that he has not the foggiest idea what's going on. Brilliant as he is, he's a little limited by being completely out of his timeframe as well as off his world.
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He's not sure if he's offering a perch. Julien's arms are engulfed by wings, and his shoulders broad but feathered.
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The air is dead here, to fly was surely going to be a terrible chore. Oh, what he wouldn't give for longer legs right now. He hadn't realized how convenient it had been to be able to shift back and forth. Granted, not at his own whim, which was the problem at the moment.
He nods in response to the question. Don't leave him alone with strange shiny buttons that will cause things to explode, please.
no subject
His shoulder really probably is the best option. Under the feathers it's basically human-shaped.
The thought occurs to him and he has to ask "Can you read or write?"
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He clicks his beak and shakes his head. He's never had chance nor reason to learn, and indeed who would teach him?
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"Oh well! That's too bad." Since he talks using a bird's syrinx and has hollow bones and air sacs, his speech makes his chest vibrate. He also breathes the way birds do, slowly, ribcage flexing. "All right, let's get out of here."
Despite unusual proportions, he's graceful and his stride is very long. "By the way, I'm Julien. It's easier to say... uh... Yuu-yeh."
no subject
He really can't avoid it gaping open though when he tries to respond in kind. "Diaval," he tries his best to say--it comes out without the 'a' sound, much to his annoyance. This was much harder than it seemed.
His feathers fluff slightly, and he tries again. "Diaval." Much better.
no subject
Outside of the bridge, Julien's mun has never seen Star Trek and has no idea what he'd find, so... npcs walking around with purpose. Julien tenses again, his body language changing quickly. He slumps, he holds his wings closer to his body, his expression becomes more uncertain and concerned. It's part of a routine he goes through to try and seem less threatening, coming from a world where he's seen as scary and all. Here he gets a few startled or evaluatory looks, but no one seems afraid or inclined to stop and gawk. Julien comes to a halt, genuinely confused.
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And some of them looked closer to Fae than human, skin in a wide array of colors and patterns, ridges and extra limbs everywhere. No magic that he could discern, though, and not nearly as outlandish as any of the Fair Folk.
So not Fae, not Human. Something else. He doesn't know what, but something.
He warbles under his breath, head turning to fix this and that with one eye, in order to see it in better detail. But if Julien has no idea what's going on, Diaval has even less of one.
no subject
Actually... "Rubber forehead aliens," he mutters. "Like humans in makeup, but - the veins." His eyesight is very good. Julien shakes his head hard enough to whap Diaval with some of the blue-dyed feathers serving him for hair.
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Curious, but he supposes he should be too surprised, what with Julien's wings and all.
You just keep musing, he still has not the foggiest what you're talking about.
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"People seem pretty busy. What do you think? All right, my shoulders are choices. Stop one to question?" He raises the shoulder Diaval's on slightly, then relaxes it. "Or get going and try to see things for ourselves?" Now he shrugs the other shoulder, with less care.
no subject
As accommodations went, the idea of answering questions with a grip on a shoulder was a decent one. And the idea of seeing what they could see on their own was a tempting one--he'd been watching from the shadows for quite some time now, and it was a difficult habit to break. But he hasn't noted anyone being particularly fearful or suspicious of the two of them--not that humans ever took him for being more than a simple raven--so he didn't think they had much to lose by asking.
He gently tightens his claws on the shoulder he's currently sitting on.
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"Okay. Um - excuse me!" He puts a hopeful smile on and steps forward to intercept someone who looks human enough. The man's eyes widen and he has to tilt his head back. "We're basically lost and have no idea what's going on. Can you tell us where we are?"
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The ensign looks between the strange teenager and the massive bird sitting calmly on his shoulder, then back behind him to the door they came from.
"Oh great, now he's making people show up on the bridge...you're on the Federation starship Enterprise. It's...a long story. Probably. Where are you from?"
(Despite being human himself, he doesn't want to assume Earth...)
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"The Enterprise? Really?" Julien stares at the ensign, but since it's not looking like a joke he shifts on his clawed feet and moves on. He can worry about it later. "My friend here is from Moors-" wherever that is"-and I'm from Locke. Locke City, New Jersey. Um... in the United States of America." The city of Locke exists only in his home universe, not that he'd have any way of knowing that.