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JANUARY TEST DRIVE MEME
You awaken to godawful static overlaying a female voice that's too monotone to be anything but a recording. The static makes it difficult to understand the warning, but it's clearly a warning if your surroundings tell you anything...
You're buckled into a sturdy seat bolted to the wall behind you. Around you, there are dozens of others like you, some awake and others still unconscious, but it seems most of the seats lining the walls are occupied. The lights are dim, likely auxiliary lighting, leaving you mostly in the dark. You smell smoke and hear the sizzling crackle of electrical systems popping and shorting out. Some of the seats were jarred off the wall, leaving the occupants either wounded or dead. Count yourself lucky all you have is a headache and various aches accounted to whiplash.
You appear to be in a drop ship or an escape vessel of some form but the pilot is dead and the hull bears a massive gash where it buckled under the impact and sheered off. Through the door-sized opening, you can see vegetation. The air that wafts in is heavy with a humid heat, but it's obviously breathable.
Once you make your way outside, you'll see greenery: Trees, grass, and shrubs tangled with vines that grow wildly and suffocate the trees they climb. In the distance, behind the ship, you can make out a sandy desert that seems to stretch on endlessly. Forward through the trees, however, you may see a crumbling wall, but more importantly, you'll see signs of civilisation. Buildings and other structures seem contained within those decrepit walls. Maybe the natives can fill you in on what's going on, because the last thing you remember isn't being in an escape shuttle. As a matter of fact, you don't remember much about your arrival or where you are. But it's going to be a bit of a hike, better get moving. Though you might want to grab the backpack of supplies under your seat before you go.
With that, the power dies, leaving the drop ship in the dark, crackling and groaning as the hull cools from its catastrophic re-entry.
no subject
It takes a lot though to step up and be the one to organize something like that, however, and Rose appreciates it. Not many people would have. She wouldn't have, even for as guilty as it makes her feel. That's what a 'me or them' deep-rooted mentality will do to a person in times of crisis though she supposes. ]
Hey, uh. Thanks. For, y'know, helping and getting other people to help. That was awesome. [ And she genuinely means that. ] Are... you alright though? [ She doesn't just mean physically, naturally. They've all got their own aches and pains - Rose herself is sporting a rather nice gash on her temple the looks a lot worse than it actually is, really - but it's the psychological stuff, the amnesia, that's getting to her more than anything. She hates not remembering. It wasn't a good thing before, she doubts it's a good thing now. ]
no subject
He smiles at Rose, glad for the help she lent him, even if the smile was a little bashful. ] Thanks, ma'am. I just did what anyone would do. I'm fine, how are you holding up? You should get someone to look at that cut. [They should probably figure out who in the group had medical training.]
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Ah, this? [ She presses her fingers gingerly to her recent head wound. She doesn't flinch - a good sign - but does frown slightly at the blood that sticks to her fingertips. She's quick to turn that frown upsidedown though. ] Nah, it's fine. There are people who got it way worse, so I can try to find someone to help them.