It's early afternoon in the (mostly) abandoned ruins of Temba. There's a sort of stillness in the air that comes with a hot summer's day in a forest, where the only things moving are the soft swaying of overhanging tree limbs in a gentle breeze and their associated, dappled shadows on the crumbled roads, the only noises the distant calls of alien wildlife that are too restless for a mid-afternoon nap. Parts of this picture are just familiar enough that it might soothe the nerves of some other new arrivals.
But not Dustin.
The stillness is briefly broken as a short, slight teenage boy ducks from behind a tree and sprints to the nearest building. He's been at this for a while now, scuttling and weaving like some kind of spooked wild animal between large bits of flora. For all the panic obvious in his over-cautious movements and wide, green eyes, he's been doing a pretty good job of staying stealthy so far, too. It's only this last stretch, where he's had to cross a relatively open stretch of sidewalk, that his composure finally falls apart.
Dustin skids to a halt, his extra momentum carrying him a little too hard into the door. He collides with a soft oof but quickly recovers, hurriedly pushing it open and lurching inside, where he immediately leans back and slams the door closed again with his full weight. Then he spins out of the way, back pressed flat against the adjoining wall, and goes stock still. Dustin stands there for a few tense moments, trying to control his breathing. His thick, bushy brown hair is speckled with thorns and sticky seed pods, and the very temperature-inappropriate sweaters he's wearing are looking a bit damp.
...And now he's looking like a deer in the headlights, because he realizes that he's burst into a building that is currently occupied.
Spaceships!
Once Dustin gets a little more comfortable with his new predicament (for certain definitions of "comfortable"), he'll have a chance to do some dedicated research to figure out his own next steps. The map on his network tablet is an excellent start. Deliberately avoiding the actual network function of this device, Dustin narrows in on a very interesting building labeled "Hangar." To him, this could mean one of several things. All of his hopes and dreams come true when he finally makes his way there and sees rows of what are definitely spaceships.
A part of him - likely the part that was injected into his brain by the data terminal when he arrived here - tells him that he shouldn't be surprised by spaceships. The Agrii were quite technologically advanced, after all. Interplanetary, hell, interstellar travel was likely child's play to them before their civilization collapsed. But the rest of him looks these ships over with glittering eyes and can't help how his heart starts skipping beats. He hasn't forgotten his resentment for being brought here against his will...but there's nothing saying he can't learn everything from his captors while he's here, right? This is just a special little treat for him.
Dustin spends the better part of his evening wandering the hangar, busily taking notes and sketches in an old and stained composition notebook as he lurks around the base of each ship. If anyone left the bay doors open, his excitement might even get the better of his paranoia and he'll invite himself into some of them. With his nose buried in his notebook, he's not likely to notice anyone approaching him.
Dustin Silver | OC
It's early afternoon in the (mostly) abandoned ruins of Temba. There's a sort of stillness in the air that comes with a hot summer's day in a forest, where the only things moving are the soft swaying of overhanging tree limbs in a gentle breeze and their associated, dappled shadows on the crumbled roads, the only noises the distant calls of alien wildlife that are too restless for a mid-afternoon nap. Parts of this picture are just familiar enough that it might soothe the nerves of some other new arrivals.
But not Dustin.
The stillness is briefly broken as a short, slight teenage boy ducks from behind a tree and sprints to the nearest building. He's been at this for a while now, scuttling and weaving like some kind of spooked wild animal between large bits of flora. For all the panic obvious in his over-cautious movements and wide, green eyes, he's been doing a pretty good job of staying stealthy so far, too. It's only this last stretch, where he's had to cross a relatively open stretch of sidewalk, that his composure finally falls apart.
Dustin skids to a halt, his extra momentum carrying him a little too hard into the door. He collides with a soft oof but quickly recovers, hurriedly pushing it open and lurching inside, where he immediately leans back and slams the door closed again with his full weight. Then he spins out of the way, back pressed flat against the adjoining wall, and goes stock still. Dustin stands there for a few tense moments, trying to control his breathing. His thick, bushy brown hair is speckled with thorns and sticky seed pods, and the very temperature-inappropriate sweaters he's wearing are looking a bit damp.
...And now he's looking like a deer in the headlights, because he realizes that he's burst into a building that is currently occupied.
Spaceships!
Once Dustin gets a little more comfortable with his new predicament (for certain definitions of "comfortable"), he'll have a chance to do some dedicated research to figure out his own next steps. The map on his network tablet is an excellent start. Deliberately avoiding the actual network function of this device, Dustin narrows in on a very interesting building labeled "Hangar." To him, this could mean one of several things. All of his hopes and dreams come true when he finally makes his way there and sees rows of what are definitely spaceships.
A part of him - likely the part that was injected into his brain by the data terminal when he arrived here - tells him that he shouldn't be surprised by spaceships. The Agrii were quite technologically advanced, after all. Interplanetary, hell, interstellar travel was likely child's play to them before their civilization collapsed. But the rest of him looks these ships over with glittering eyes and can't help how his heart starts skipping beats. He hasn't forgotten his resentment for being brought here against his will...but there's nothing saying he can't learn everything from his captors while he's here, right? This is just a special little treat for him.
Dustin spends the better part of his evening wandering the hangar, busily taking notes and sketches in an old and stained composition notebook as he lurks around the base of each ship. If anyone left the bay doors open, his excitement might even get the better of his paranoia and he'll invite himself into some of them. With his nose buried in his notebook, he's not likely to notice anyone approaching him.