Skyland Hopping

Discussion in 'ROLEPLAY GRAVEYARD' started by Laggy Lagiacrus, Apr 4, 2012.

  1. ((OOC))

    “You sure it’ll fly?”
    “I fixed it up; it’ll run as well as it did before – if not better.”
    “Well, you’re the engineer…”
    Clambering into the cockpit of the plane, Adam Johnson adjusted his flight goggles just-so, the anticipation of yet another run in the air kicking in. No laws restricting citizens from flying had been put in place at that point in time – though it affected criminals and those with incapacitating conditions, if you could fly it competently and were above sixteen, the Anderlian government allowed you to own – and pilot – an aircraft. Yes, there were restrictions in place, but none that prevented flight. The model utilised by Adam was a Sputterflare – a newer version of a model used in the war, its weapons systems had since been de-activated, and were now about as much use as throwing a pebble at a rampaging hippo.
    "Oh, come to think of it, you should probably take Clara with you. God only knows what could happen, and face it, you couldn't use a spanner unless it was for poking someone in the eye."
    Pausing as he clambered into the cockpit, Adam looked to his father. it was a good thing he had his flight hat and goggles on - had his eyes and eyebrows been visible, he feared both his father and Clara would take offence, in some form or other. Thus, he simply shrugged, knowing there was no way out of it. It was not that he particularly hated her company, that much had been established while she was employed - in fact, both Johnsons found she was a pleasant person to have. No, it was simply that it was a routine shopping trip, and there should have been no need for an engineer to accompany him, and was rather insulted as a result.
    "All right then. Come on, the passenger seat won't fill itself."
     
  2. The first question really was atrocious.</SPAN>
    </SPAN>
    “You sure it’ll fly?” Adam had asked, and Clara could not help but scowl slightly. His father had fixed up his plane, and Clara was quite sure that Mr. Johnson was a top-notch engineer. Of course it would fly! The fact that Adam even doubted it made her lips a fine and annoyed line. She didn’t even bother expressing her opinion though, knowing she would simply spark anger towards herself.
    </SPAN></SPAN>
    She swung the wrench she had been holding over her shoulder, her grease-stained fingers clutching tightly to prevent an oily slip. She admired the beauty of a plane, it had had a nice engine, but she was sure Mr. Johnson’s work would make it fly smoother than silk. She had yet to reach that level of expertise, but spent every moment trying to achieve it. Even the mere thought of engineering a perfect beauty had her free hand twitching slightly, restless for the comforting feel of oil on metal in her hands. The plane itself was a Sputterflare, but she wasn’t too happy about that part. It had been a surprise to her when it revealed it’s engine. People nowadays were too forward, always trying to design all sorts of engines to make theirs newer and ‘better’. But Clara believed that the classical engines worked best. People complained they were noisy, but she heard it as a purr, like a happy kitten. They weren’t ‘fast enough’, but they could outlast three of the newer engines! Quality over quantity had become the opposite, unfortunately.</SPAN></SPAN>

    Mr. Johnson spoke up, and Clara had to simply beam. She wiped the grime off her face with a rag that had been tucked in her pocket, and set down her wrench. Grabbing a small and easily portable toolbox, she clambered in, even ignoring Adam’s rudeness.
    </SPAN></SPAN>
    “I doubt it’ll malfunction, but it’d be wonderful to get my hands on it!” She admit, putting on her seatbelt and her goggles. She had yet to try out a Sputterflare’s engine, and wondered how smooth it would be. Did it have that soft rumble? The slight whirr of fans? She wondered how much petrol it needed to run, and how long it could hold out. She had never gotten the chance to learn anything other than the mechanics of planes, barely able to drive a slow old Catswing’62. But if given the engine of one, she could easily take it apart and reassemble it in a matter of minutes.
    </SPAN></SPAN>
    “Let’s get this thing running.” She concluded, eager to see it work.</SPAN></SPAN>