a dramatic entrance [She'd been minding her own business, but that's usually when the trouble always starts: when she's minding her own damn business.
An action preceded by being involved in others' businesses but that was a small detail compared to the greater concern at hand.
Energy glows bright, then immediately simmers, leaving behind the form of an international criminal turned international crimefighter with perfectly braided hair and her black and gold robotic greyhound.]
Not this again.
[She hardly misses a beat as she starts to stride through the ship as if she owns the entire place. Something always had to be falling apart, and no one could afford a single decent engineer. Q-11, her most trusted companion and bodyguard of a sort, is alert, ears pricked, lights glowing an urgent orange underneath the encrusted golden henna patterns. Look closely and you'll notice that the patterns between dog and arm match. Cute.]
Does anyone know how to navigate and maintain this bloody, godforsaken ship!? No, of course not! [Stomp as she might, her steps are quiet as ever. Those noise-canceling boots are what make her a terror.] I am going to personally strangle whoever is doing this now, Q. And we're going to have fun doing it.
[Throughout the time, should you think it may not be smart to interrupt a 5'10" angry woman with dark sunglasses and her manufactured dog, you'll find her knee-deep and intensely focused on computer work and repairs, though she won't turn down a conversation. She'll be looking for materials, too, to build defenses and crude weapons.]
hacker voice, i'm in [The good ship Moira, and all of her beastly enemies. It always had been a fight to the death with the knife in her prosthetic arm and the knives lining Q's mouth. Isha now stands at a terminal, furiously working her way through whatever failsafes and modifications had been put in place at the Ingress.
Unfortunately for everyone involved, she's found a way to get her voice into a communication system and still manage to tell people what to do from the other side of the ship. Don't be overly alarmed now when she begins to speak.]
If we're smart, we can get through this together. I can open and close doors, maybe make a distraction or three while you get closer. And I'll know if you're being an idiot because I know everything right now.
the end is the beginning is the end [At some point, however, she'll have finally relented to seclusion, tired of barking orders, tired of knifing and shredding and slamming her head against foreign systems she hardly understands. Should you want to approach her alone, she'll be away from most people, with whatever bottle of alcohol she managed to find, or even make herself. It's all relative now. Isha thinks she should rest, but there's a finality to this. Like always, she'll have chosen to dress her own wounds, because pride is something she still struggles to surpass.
She's seen better days. And like the days of yore, Isha takes a hefty shot before liberally dousing an open wound with the alcohol. Some part of her would rather not let anyone see or know of her existence anymore. Let her pass through like a shadow, as she used to before.
She knows it won't work out that way. Q, obediently, lays on his stomach silently, facing her opposite direction, towards everyone else as she lets her back be the visible part of herself.]
isha devan // classic, not old tyvm // open
[She'd been minding her own business, but that's usually when the trouble always starts: when she's minding her own damn business.
An action preceded by being involved in others' businesses but that was a small detail compared to the greater concern at hand.
Energy glows bright, then immediately simmers, leaving behind the form of an international criminal turned international crimefighter with perfectly braided hair and her black and gold robotic greyhound.]
Not this again.
[She hardly misses a beat as she starts to stride through the ship as if she owns the entire place. Something always had to be falling apart, and no one could afford a single decent engineer. Q-11, her most trusted companion and bodyguard of a sort, is alert, ears pricked, lights glowing an urgent orange underneath the encrusted golden henna patterns. Look closely and you'll notice that the patterns between dog and arm match. Cute.]
Does anyone know how to navigate and maintain this bloody, godforsaken ship!? No, of course not! [Stomp as she might, her steps are quiet as ever. Those noise-canceling boots are what make her a terror.] I am going to personally strangle whoever is doing this now, Q. And we're going to have fun doing it.
[Throughout the time, should you think it may not be smart to interrupt a 5'10" angry woman with dark sunglasses and her manufactured dog, you'll find her knee-deep and intensely focused on computer work and repairs, though she won't turn down a conversation. She'll be looking for materials, too, to build defenses and crude weapons.]
hacker voice, i'm in
[The good ship Moira, and all of her beastly enemies. It always had been a fight to the death with the knife in her prosthetic arm and the knives lining Q's mouth. Isha now stands at a terminal, furiously working her way through whatever failsafes and modifications had been put in place at the Ingress.
Unfortunately for everyone involved, she's found a way to get her voice into a communication system and still manage to tell people what to do from the other side of the ship. Don't be overly alarmed now when she begins to speak.]
If we're smart, we can get through this together. I can open and close doors, maybe make a distraction or three while you get closer. And I'll know if you're being an idiot because I know everything right now.
the end is the beginning is the end
[At some point, however, she'll have finally relented to seclusion, tired of barking orders, tired of knifing and shredding and slamming her head against foreign systems she hardly understands. Should you want to approach her alone, she'll be away from most people, with whatever bottle of alcohol she managed to find, or even make herself. It's all relative now. Isha thinks she should rest, but there's a finality to this. Like always, she'll have chosen to dress her own wounds, because pride is something she still struggles to surpass.
She's seen better days. And like the days of yore, Isha takes a hefty shot before liberally dousing an open wound with the alcohol. Some part of her would rather not let anyone see or know of her existence anymore. Let her pass through like a shadow, as she used to before.
She knows it won't work out that way. Q, obediently, lays on his stomach silently, facing her opposite direction, towards everyone else as she lets her back be the visible part of herself.]