Thread: Stike to the Heart [Zero & Confrazzled] a Sci-fi roleplay

Zellie ran a hand through her halo of shorn tawny locks, causing them to frizz out wildly, like the petals of a sunflower that she??d seen, once or twice on childhood visits to the conserva-dome. Her father had taken her, back when the cities still towered high above the tunneled-and-drilled rock of the Earth, when alloy-plastic-and-glass structures surpassed scraping the skies, as their ancestors had predicted, but actually plunged their spires beyond the clouds themselves. None exceeding a mile high, of course, for that had been the legal limit. The conserva-dome, quaintly deemed ??the conservatory?? by Zellie??s embarrassingly archaic scholar father, had not been like the other skyscrapers, for those around it plunged lower, tapering in like a funnel about it, and it had squatted centre of the others, much resembling the centre of the blossoms it contained. The equivalent of the top eight floors were enclosed in a bubble-like dome, constructed of wired in triangular glass panes like a fractured crystal. Exotic trees, extinct everywhere else save in the hardier, quick-growing hybrid varieties, flowers from pleasure gardens, even the fruits referenced so numerously in the old works her father poured over. Zellie had been intoxicated, wrapped up in the sights and smells, the green, the ruffling of leaves, the mutability of it all. How different was the world that her father retreated to! So much less concrete than the plastics and gears and fuses and alloys of her day-to-day life. How fragile, all of the plants save that bold-looking sunflower. But Zellie wasn??t thinking about her hair, how embarassed her scholar father would be of having a mechanic for a daughter, plants that no longer existed anywhere anymore, of the shard-littered ruins of the conserva-domes, or anything more concrete than what squatted before the pale oval of her grease-smudged face. Nothing more than fitting together the wires and chips of these two completely incompatible but halfways destroyed systems. Tried not to think of Kai, loosed in the mown-down wreckage outside of twisted steel and half-burnt plastics, of the long-stretching dalliance of his current mission. Surely he hadn??t succumbed to any threats. This was Kai after all??he could handle himself. Zellie did not quite succeed at this aim. Pursing her lips into a determined line, Zellie hunched her petite form further over the near-blasphemous hybridization of a contraption, twisting herself round to try to wrap the raw wire ends together, and complete the circuit. Cresting the machine she presented the very shapely curves of her rump, packed to fill the men??s britches. Her modest breasts pressed into a metal bar, makeshift to hold the mechanized beast together. Just a little further . . . But it would be some time yet before the brute would fire to life. This was just another phase of modifications in the series of many?? many ??which would be required to derive functionality again. But when it roared to life, it would be oh so useful, implemental directly to their Resistance work. But which would happen first? Kai??s return or the project??s completion. Zellie near-prayed Kai??s. It was quite possible that they would achieve the same timeline, and neither venture would ever succeed. But life without Kai . . . Zellie forced the thought away. Focussed on her hands, and what the hell that broken blue fuse was doing there . . .