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ph_logs2025-01-07 04:38 pm
2onostromo) wrote in ph_logs2025-01-07 04:38 pm
Catching Trains & Walks Through Dark Forests ( OTA )
Who: Ellen Ripley & YOU!
What: To ride a train, or not to ride a train, that is the question.
When: Early January
Where: Train, Lockwood Forest
Warning(s): N/a, tbd?
All In a Day’s Work
Perhaps mining isn’t the kindest labor Ellen Ripley could have chosen for herself, but she doesn’t care. She needs something. A purpose on this cold, unforgiving rock– if Pumpkin Hollow can be classified as such. It’s dubious her new home exists on any celestial body she’s familiar with, and yet she finds herself pitching eyes upward to probe the clear black sky. For clues, for hints of life elsewhere, for the star systems who’d raised her. Nothing. How lonely.
Into the mines, then. To be swallowed by a new, impenetrable dark. A starless void of dust, rock and precious ore. The maternal drone of an intelligent computer is replaced by the rhythmic clang, clang, clang of her’s and other’s tools. Star systems replaced by a maze of intravenous tunnels. Hauler ships worth multi-millions, responsible for carrying several billion tons of crude oil in their breast-shaped modules, reduced to archaic mine-carts. The drone of men around her– that much hasn’t changed a bit. The utter lack of advanced technology stumps her at first, borne of a time long before her own. But she adapts. Hard not to. What else has she but time, after all?
Her work takes her all the way to Cranes Ridge, a sprawl of dry mountains tucked deep within Lockwood Forest.
When she rises out of the ground, caked in dust and smattered in ore and oil to catch the train home, she finds the sun has gone down. Not unusual, given her long work-hours. But nevertheless perturbing.
The train welcomes her by unhinging its sliding jaw, allowing her entrance into a narrow yet comfortable cabin. It kicks up sparks as it leaves the station. Coughs clouds of black smoke into the still night air. You find her seated in one of several empty rows, wiping her face with a grey cloth.
All in a day’s work.
ALT. No Way Home
Up, up, up out of the ground she climbs. Hauls her belongings to the foot of the train station. She awaits its arrival; a squeal, a kicking of sparks and cough of black smoke clouds as it slows to greet her. She waits. Shuffles from left foot to right. Drops her bag, picks it up again. She spends a great deal of time looking at the stars. They eye her knowingly, pulsating their yellow aura. Speaking their unintelligible language. A deep frown cuts Ellen’s face horizontally.
She waits.
No train, no sparks, no smoke.
“Oh, for fuck’s sake.”
Wrenching her bag from the ground, Ripley starts with an irritated fervor down the stairs and into Lockwood Forest. She’ll see her own way home…
BONUS. Wild Card!
Hit me with whatever you've got!
What: To ride a train, or not to ride a train, that is the question.
When: Early January
Where: Train, Lockwood Forest
Warning(s): N/a, tbd?
All In a Day’s Work
Perhaps mining isn’t the kindest labor Ellen Ripley could have chosen for herself, but she doesn’t care. She needs something. A purpose on this cold, unforgiving rock– if Pumpkin Hollow can be classified as such. It’s dubious her new home exists on any celestial body she’s familiar with, and yet she finds herself pitching eyes upward to probe the clear black sky. For clues, for hints of life elsewhere, for the star systems who’d raised her. Nothing. How lonely.
Into the mines, then. To be swallowed by a new, impenetrable dark. A starless void of dust, rock and precious ore. The maternal drone of an intelligent computer is replaced by the rhythmic clang, clang, clang of her’s and other’s tools. Star systems replaced by a maze of intravenous tunnels. Hauler ships worth multi-millions, responsible for carrying several billion tons of crude oil in their breast-shaped modules, reduced to archaic mine-carts. The drone of men around her– that much hasn’t changed a bit. The utter lack of advanced technology stumps her at first, borne of a time long before her own. But she adapts. Hard not to. What else has she but time, after all?
Her work takes her all the way to Cranes Ridge, a sprawl of dry mountains tucked deep within Lockwood Forest.
When she rises out of the ground, caked in dust and smattered in ore and oil to catch the train home, she finds the sun has gone down. Not unusual, given her long work-hours. But nevertheless perturbing.
The train welcomes her by unhinging its sliding jaw, allowing her entrance into a narrow yet comfortable cabin. It kicks up sparks as it leaves the station. Coughs clouds of black smoke into the still night air. You find her seated in one of several empty rows, wiping her face with a grey cloth.
All in a day’s work.
ALT. No Way Home
Up, up, up out of the ground she climbs. Hauls her belongings to the foot of the train station. She awaits its arrival; a squeal, a kicking of sparks and cough of black smoke clouds as it slows to greet her. She waits. Shuffles from left foot to right. Drops her bag, picks it up again. She spends a great deal of time looking at the stars. They eye her knowingly, pulsating their yellow aura. Speaking their unintelligible language. A deep frown cuts Ellen’s face horizontally.
She waits.
No train, no sparks, no smoke.
“Oh, for fuck’s sake.”
Wrenching her bag from the ground, Ripley starts with an irritated fervor down the stairs and into Lockwood Forest. She’ll see her own way home…
BONUS. Wild Card!
Hit me with whatever you've got!