- Joined
- May 29, 2014
- Messages
- 703
- Reaction score
- 124
THE GALACTIC EVOLUTION
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[CLOSED]
GENERAL BARRACKS - 20:30 HRS
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[CLOSED]
GENERAL BARRACKS - 20:30 HRS
A woman's sultry voice sang softly in a foreign tongue, melancholic and tribal in its echoes; lilting in and out of woeful string instruments' sawing and eclectic plucking and twanging, as chimes twinkled in the distant atmosphere. An industry's professional rendition of an Askajian's tragic war story, esoteric and ethereal; yet also pretentious and luxurious. The gentle music only reached so far into the crossing hallway from within one of the private quarters of the catacomb barracks.
Inside his room, his for a month now, Cappi conversely toiled over a new suit: a lightweight black exoskeleton, standard issue. Knelt onto one knee with his bare back to the open door, he haphazardly tossed aside the helmet with a jarring clunk and ignored roll. His rough hands invaded the standing suit's innards, digging through every cavity in search of what could be discarded in favor of greater freedom. In nothing but light gray sweatpants and some wrist bracelets, perfectly demonstrating his skin's need to breath, he frustratedly stripped the suit bare; carelessly clunking thuds of unnecessary, in his eye, pieces of gear attachments harshly onto the floor into a pile beside him. |
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He payed no attention to the time, expecting a student to join him some time tonight. In fact she was already due. He fed a finger into the thick bunch of brown hair behind his ear under the hastily wrapped bun and scratched his skull as if to wipe the mental note of her arrival from memory.
A surrounding pattern of specifically placed potted plants of variety decorated the room, mostly near the white sheeted cot under the small circular view portal. Their generic aromas freshened the air with an unintrusive earthiness. Some were roots that reached from their legs like bare twisted trunks while others flourished with green leaves, while a small fan blew behind a water mister that delicately sprayed in thirty second intervals.
And on the dark oak dresser was three small digital frames that flipped through a montage of images of a beautiful woman on one, an old man on another, and an average man on the last with fewer images to cypher through. His frame was turned away from facing the cot.
Cappi grumbled under his breath, contrary to the nature of this soothing music as he rummaged through his new suit in his own little world.
@Maya Whitelight