Abigail Hobbs (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
versusnurture) wrote2014-12-07 02:09 pm
versusnurture) wrote2014-12-07 02:09 pm
twenty-three ♢ spam & video
spam } everywhere!
[When Abigail wakes up, she isn't afraid. She isn't even concerned. She knows that this isn't the room she's used to, but she knows, too, that it's sort of hers and she has a right to it. So she springs out of bed, inspects it from top to bottom, and then heads out to explore the Barge.]
[There's a confidence in her that might surprise those who know her well as an adult. She investigates everything as if it belongs to her, spending a while on the deck looking at the stars and (loudly, incorrectly) identifying constellations. When she's done there, she curls up in the library with a stack of books almost taller than her, some on space (since that seems to be today's theme), some on anatomy, and some science fiction books, because that's basically the same as space.]
[In the end she gravitates towards the kitchens, where she inexplicably feels the most comfortable. She stays through lunch shift and well into the afternoon, investigating, tidying, wiping down surfaces.]
[Soon enough, she has a question.]
voice
I've been paying attention to the kitchens, [she says in a lofty voice, commanding attention in the way that only children often do.] And I need to know something.
Where does the food come from? It has to come from somewhere.
private } admiral
Excuse me, Admiral. I need to know where the food in the kitchens comes from, please.
( ooc; replies will come fromnaturalizing! )
[When Abigail wakes up, she isn't afraid. She isn't even concerned. She knows that this isn't the room she's used to, but she knows, too, that it's sort of hers and she has a right to it. So she springs out of bed, inspects it from top to bottom, and then heads out to explore the Barge.]
[There's a confidence in her that might surprise those who know her well as an adult. She investigates everything as if it belongs to her, spending a while on the deck looking at the stars and (loudly, incorrectly) identifying constellations. When she's done there, she curls up in the library with a stack of books almost taller than her, some on space (since that seems to be today's theme), some on anatomy, and some science fiction books, because that's basically the same as space.]
[In the end she gravitates towards the kitchens, where she inexplicably feels the most comfortable. She stays through lunch shift and well into the afternoon, investigating, tidying, wiping down surfaces.]
[Soon enough, she has a question.]
voice
I've been paying attention to the kitchens, [she says in a lofty voice, commanding attention in the way that only children often do.] And I need to know something.
Where does the food come from? It has to come from somewhere.
private } admiral
Excuse me, Admiral. I need to know where the food in the kitchens comes from, please.
( ooc; replies will come from
naturalizing! )
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[Although that shit-eating grin would suggest otherwise. Especially as he's bending down to grab another one.]
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[She huffs, and, with a typical if-you-can't-beat-'em-join-'em attitude, bends down and starts making her own snowball.]
[It begins.]
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[Bring it.]
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[He'll never surrender!!!]
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[Her fingers are really cold, though, so maybe she'll surrender. In a minute. Maybe.]
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You can give up, you know!
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Never!
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Suit yourself!
[Have another snowball then!!!]
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Okay! Okay! I surrender!
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Ha! I knew I'd win!