4. Solice Among the Flock
Feb 12, 2015 1:18:24 GMT
Post by Admin on Feb 12, 2015 1:18:24 GMT
03-02-2011, 01:25 AM
Arianna
She smiled wandering the hall from the barracks to the path to the hanger. Watching the group head for survival training, she could only wish them silent luck and pray that no one came back marked 'dead' for failure to follow directions.
As she crossed thru the dim hanger, past a few fighters being worked on for major overhauls, she paused at the far hanger doors and looked out across the plascrete. There glistening in the sun were the fighters of Rogue Squadron. Freshly washed and drying in the sun as their pilots attended to other things that day. She had remined silent and nearly inconspicuous these last few weeks while training and such was going on. Even the battles hadn't ruffled her from her near ghostly rounds. She had been training new technicians and needed to be certain they would maintain the most important fighters on the base whether she was ever present or not. Things needed to be done and fighters needed to be tended properly, even without her standing there as a constant reminder.
So today, with everyone off doing other things, she decided to crawl from her haunting shadowy wanderings of obscurity and meander into the sunlight of obviousness.
Knowing this was a rare opportunity, she adjusted the set of her toolbelt and paced from the cool dim of the hangers to the sunlight of the flightline. This was her time to look over the flock... the fighter birds she cared for... and see to it nothing was amiss. Coming across Romon's aircraft first she smiled. "Well," she brushed an already loose tendril of hair from her face where it was escaping her cranial, "Guess we should see to the leader's bird first. No sense in seeing him useless in a fight, is there?"
Her steel toed boots made little to no noise as she quickly travered the miriad of hand and foot holds to arrive at the main electrical panel. Popping it open with practiced ease, nimble fingers began to poke and prod as resistance readings were made with her palm gear, and wiring integrity were seen and felt for continuity. She made a thorough inspection of the panel's contents before moving to teh cockpit, the wings and the landing gear.
Her soft, absent humming would travel a bit across the plascrete if anyone came by. The haunting lullaby style tune bringing a thought of leaves, or clouds, or even something more malevolent dancing around her in the wind. Her hair was now a near whirling dirvish of tendrils about the edges of her tight cranial. The edges dancing in the wind as if trying to escape their captivity of plastic and metal.
Her fingers moved in time with her music. Once slow and methodic, then quick and nimble, the once more slow and dextrous. She climbed here and there with no seeming rhyme or reason, though if one watched long enough, the systems she checked were in the same order from bird to bird, aircraft type to aircraft type, despite the differences in the many styles of fighters Rogue used.
Anyone seeing her would think her oblivious to her surroundings. But the young woman was no novice. No one went to someplace as dangerous as the flightline, or hanger, and didn't pay attention. Even on a day as calm as this, there was no telling what would come upon you.
Anyone trying to sneak up on her would certainly find out the hard way she was not easily caught unawares.
Arianna Talien
Romos' Bane
Hanger Chief
Rogue Squadron
Arianna
She smiled wandering the hall from the barracks to the path to the hanger. Watching the group head for survival training, she could only wish them silent luck and pray that no one came back marked 'dead' for failure to follow directions.
As she crossed thru the dim hanger, past a few fighters being worked on for major overhauls, she paused at the far hanger doors and looked out across the plascrete. There glistening in the sun were the fighters of Rogue Squadron. Freshly washed and drying in the sun as their pilots attended to other things that day. She had remined silent and nearly inconspicuous these last few weeks while training and such was going on. Even the battles hadn't ruffled her from her near ghostly rounds. She had been training new technicians and needed to be certain they would maintain the most important fighters on the base whether she was ever present or not. Things needed to be done and fighters needed to be tended properly, even without her standing there as a constant reminder.
So today, with everyone off doing other things, she decided to crawl from her haunting shadowy wanderings of obscurity and meander into the sunlight of obviousness.
Knowing this was a rare opportunity, she adjusted the set of her toolbelt and paced from the cool dim of the hangers to the sunlight of the flightline. This was her time to look over the flock... the fighter birds she cared for... and see to it nothing was amiss. Coming across Romon's aircraft first she smiled. "Well," she brushed an already loose tendril of hair from her face where it was escaping her cranial, "Guess we should see to the leader's bird first. No sense in seeing him useless in a fight, is there?"
Her steel toed boots made little to no noise as she quickly travered the miriad of hand and foot holds to arrive at the main electrical panel. Popping it open with practiced ease, nimble fingers began to poke and prod as resistance readings were made with her palm gear, and wiring integrity were seen and felt for continuity. She made a thorough inspection of the panel's contents before moving to teh cockpit, the wings and the landing gear.
Her soft, absent humming would travel a bit across the plascrete if anyone came by. The haunting lullaby style tune bringing a thought of leaves, or clouds, or even something more malevolent dancing around her in the wind. Her hair was now a near whirling dirvish of tendrils about the edges of her tight cranial. The edges dancing in the wind as if trying to escape their captivity of plastic and metal.
Her fingers moved in time with her music. Once slow and methodic, then quick and nimble, the once more slow and dextrous. She climbed here and there with no seeming rhyme or reason, though if one watched long enough, the systems she checked were in the same order from bird to bird, aircraft type to aircraft type, despite the differences in the many styles of fighters Rogue used.
Anyone seeing her would think her oblivious to her surroundings. But the young woman was no novice. No one went to someplace as dangerous as the flightline, or hanger, and didn't pay attention. Even on a day as calm as this, there was no telling what would come upon you.
Anyone trying to sneak up on her would certainly find out the hard way she was not easily caught unawares.
Arianna Talien
Romos' Bane
Hanger Chief
Rogue Squadron