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adventuressingShe’s still in the process of figuring out how to work the PT wristband oojah the Viyrans had given her. It’s got settings for coordinates and dates, but if one doesn’t necessarily know the intergalactic coordinates of any given planet, that isn’t much use. Thus far, however, she hasn’t been all that bothered by her dubious navigation skills. It’s been perhaps a fortnight since she left the Viyran ship, and there’s nowhere in particular she’s heading. Just travelling for its own sake. Having adventures. She can’t say that she doesn’t miss doing so with company, but it’s not bad, really. It’s all right.
Her first go sent her to a planet with a surface like smooth silica, and all the life underground in beautifully bored tunnels, everything opalescent whites and pinks and greens. The people were little roboty things, and Charley spent a week with them, befriending a group of-- she supposed they’d be teenagers, by Earth standards, if an inorganic alien lifeform could be said to be a teenager-- and exploring deeper into the planet than anyone had yet ventured. After that, a planet that was all seas (she’d quickly left, considerably damper than she'd arrived); after that, someplace called Malleiateos, covered with ochre-fawn-marigold-tawny fields and breathing trees, where a young triad had insisted she stay with them because she looked exhausted. She suspects they’d rather fancied her, but they’d been polite enough to keep it to themselves.
And now? Now… she’s fairly sure she’s in New York. She is; New York City. Charley can’t help it; she laughs out loud. She’s still feeling a little disorientated from her arrival, which had been unwontedly rough, like space and time had grabbed her and had to shove her through a minute gap to get her here, so perhaps a little giddiness is understandable. She feels disorientated and frazzled, but it is suddenly, unexpectedly wonderful to be on Earth.
It’s warm, it’s Spring, she’s in a park next to a lake, and she stands for a moment, squinting up at the skyline. Certainly not the 1930’s, she can tell that much. A few people pause to blink at her, but other than having just appeared out of nowhere, she doesn’t stand out much; a young woman dressed head-to-toe in practical, comfortable black, wearing a backpack. She might be anyone.
Unpeeling her wristband and tucking it away into the backpack, she slings the bag back over her shoulder, chooses a direction, and starts walking.
[OOC: She's materalised in Central Park, near the reservoir, and is going to be wandering in a generally southerly direction, more or less towards the Rebel base, so feel free to run into her]
Her first go sent her to a planet with a surface like smooth silica, and all the life underground in beautifully bored tunnels, everything opalescent whites and pinks and greens. The people were little roboty things, and Charley spent a week with them, befriending a group of-- she supposed they’d be teenagers, by Earth standards, if an inorganic alien lifeform could be said to be a teenager-- and exploring deeper into the planet than anyone had yet ventured. After that, a planet that was all seas (she’d quickly left, considerably damper than she'd arrived); after that, someplace called Malleiateos, covered with ochre-fawn-marigold-tawny fields and breathing trees, where a young triad had insisted she stay with them because she looked exhausted. She suspects they’d rather fancied her, but they’d been polite enough to keep it to themselves.
And now? Now… she’s fairly sure she’s in New York. She is; New York City. Charley can’t help it; she laughs out loud. She’s still feeling a little disorientated from her arrival, which had been unwontedly rough, like space and time had grabbed her and had to shove her through a minute gap to get her here, so perhaps a little giddiness is understandable. She feels disorientated and frazzled, but it is suddenly, unexpectedly wonderful to be on Earth.
It’s warm, it’s Spring, she’s in a park next to a lake, and she stands for a moment, squinting up at the skyline. Certainly not the 1930’s, she can tell that much. A few people pause to blink at her, but other than having just appeared out of nowhere, she doesn’t stand out much; a young woman dressed head-to-toe in practical, comfortable black, wearing a backpack. She might be anyone.
Unpeeling her wristband and tucking it away into the backpack, she slings the bag back over her shoulder, chooses a direction, and starts walking.
[OOC: She's materalised in Central Park, near the reservoir, and is going to be wandering in a generally southerly direction, more or less towards the Rebel base, so feel free to run into her]
