Alone.

  Yes, 
            that is the key word. The most awful word in the English tongue.
            Murder doesn't hold a candle to it and hell is only a poor synonym.

                                        - Stephan King, Salem’s Lot

 independent roleplay blog for an Alien OC ✗ multi-verse & au friendly   semi-selective will always read your about/rules page before interacting

                                                  written by hal

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swordsandsorcerers:

Our Grasp Of Heaven, Noah Bradley

// it’s as if my tumblr family is no more…
everyone either deleted or is on perma-hiatus…

ferventfawn:

image

She peered up at the man’s full height, Inga’s eyes searched the glossy black case of the helmet. His face was lost in there somewhere- how fascinating meeting a non-human creature! She never fully understood humans, even in her line of work, but given the chance to work with someone not human was exciting on so many levels.

Immediately drawn to the man’s hand, she grasped it firmly and shook with both hands as her cheeks turned red- how long was she staring? “Ah! Yes, I’m sorry I-I didn’t realize, um,” Inga glanced back up at the helmet and directly back down to the gloved hand.

"My name is Inga, I’m a cultural Anthropologist."

-!!

He hadn’t expected an enthusiastic reaction to his introduction. The surprise translated to a few flashes of color on the outer display of his helmet.

"Anthropologist?"

The inflection of his voice prompted his IST to run a comprehensive search on the word. 2,470,000 results in 0.21 seconds. There wasn’t a direct translation for the word, but the translator’s thesaurus offered a few synonyms to ease some of the confusion.

"Ah, I see. You will have to pardon me at times as my interstellar service tool has a limited translating capability. I understand the gist of your profession, but perhaps you could tell me exactly what it is you do?"

ferventfawn:

Inga jumped at the sound of the voice, was he talking to her?

Oh dear.

image She turned to the helmeted man and took small, delicately placed steps towards him, still remaining a good distance away.

Inga breathed deeply, “Y-yes, it is made up of various minerals and-” she cleared her throat, “-organic compounds. Though, I am not familiar with… any of them, unfortunately.”

She tilted her head downward. What facial structure lies underneath the metal encasing of the skull? Her mind raced at the possibilities of being confronted with a dangerous individual, but asking would be so rude. 

Inga shook her head and looked at the rock he was holding from afar.

"I suppose that that cannot be helped then. There are not many humans I have come across who know much more than the general knowledge of things."

The Gliesian stood, towering over the young woman as he brushed off the dirt on his form. Such a tiny human- she looked as if she would only come up to his chest if they were side-by-side. Perhaps it was the nutrients this planet had to offer.

"Forgive me… It has been a long time since I have interacted with another being." He held out a gloved hand, "I am called Arcturus Vaalroth Phle’geth, captain of the SSV Bellerophon-5.”

"I have often wondered about the composition of your planet…"

"My IST scanners pick up interesting readings, telling me that it is quite similar to my own,” Arcturus scrutinized the rock in his ever growing pile of earth. “Yet when I look around nothing is familiar.”

craeter:

sector B by SalvDivin

©PONDERISM