- Invitation Status
- Posting Speed
- 1-3 posts per week
- One post per week
- Online Availability
- Weekends, I tend to have buckets of time unless I'm working or traveling (I'll let you know), then I'm scarce af. During the week, I work pretty standard 9-5, then go to class or the gym, so....8-11 PM Pacific?
- Writing Levels
- Adept
- Advanced
- Douche
- Preferred Character Gender
- Primarily Prefer Female
- Genres
- I'm open to more than I'm closed to. If it doesn't fall under gratuitous or inorganic (forced) romance, pitch me an idea, and we'll work it out.
"Mhmm," Mal murmured, leaning back and closing her eyes. She was vaguely aware something was wrong. She had been on her own long enough to know better than to let her guard down with a strange. Especially a man. Especially a man Foka's size. She should have never let that other man -- where was he? -- drug her. Pain be damned, at least it kept you alert. Now? Now, she could barely keep her eyes open.
On the other hand...Father Russia's suggestion that she lie down had sounded just a little bit tantalizing. The pain wasn't as bad as it had been before, more of a dull throbbing that made everything from her neck to her hips hurt, but she could deal with that. It was the funny way the ship's ceiling kept twisting itself into shapes that she found concerning. Because either she was stoned out of her mind, or this ship was seriously not sound. And how long 'til they got a new one? And how long had she been thinking of her and Foka in terms of 'they'?
Mal frowned, started to sit up. She needed to be off this ship and on her own again real quick. She had business back on Mars.
"I'm not going to -- " she started, when the console under her boots beeped. The radar at the center showed three red dots at the bottom of the screen.
Mal sat up with a wince, blinked once, then looked at Foka.
"Don't suppose those guys are friends of yours?"
On the other hand...Father Russia's suggestion that she lie down had sounded just a little bit tantalizing. The pain wasn't as bad as it had been before, more of a dull throbbing that made everything from her neck to her hips hurt, but she could deal with that. It was the funny way the ship's ceiling kept twisting itself into shapes that she found concerning. Because either she was stoned out of her mind, or this ship was seriously not sound. And how long 'til they got a new one? And how long had she been thinking of her and Foka in terms of 'they'?
Mal frowned, started to sit up. She needed to be off this ship and on her own again real quick. She had business back on Mars.
"I'm not going to -- " she started, when the console under her boots beeped. The radar at the center showed three red dots at the bottom of the screen.
Mal sat up with a wince, blinked once, then looked at Foka.
"Don't suppose those guys are friends of yours?"