Theme toggleSCENE LISTING SCENE SCHEDULE Scene Schedule RSS Feed
Owner Pose
Tibbie Who really knew the time or even the year here? Everything around the ship is metal, inhuman, and just overall bad vibes for anything that breathes.

With help from the more experienced survivors, Tibbie learns how to cook using the scarce and questionable ingredients of the food processing room. When looking at her, one would notice her smile's easily brought on by the hungry souls taking a bowl and walking on to stomach down the mysterious slop she's served them.

Shoddy tables, benches, and a cooking set have been arranged here. The large soup pot sits on a slab of metal, with a barrel drum as the base, and presumably a fire burns within the barrel to keep the soup warm.

Our once-downtrodden Tibbie now stirs the chunky soup with her rusty ladle.
"We wouldn't want you to miss out on the hearty parts." She smiles to a boy while serving him.
The boy sits and looks at the bowl's contents; it's a mixture of greyish pink with black flecks in it, the 'hearty' chunks are beige and have red streaks throughout it. The discouraged boy looks back to the serving table to see if he'd missed any other foods available. &rIt looks like some sort of salad's been made, but it's brown and only somewhat crisp looking. And lastly the boy spots at the end of the table stack of individually packaged yet still shady looking ration bars, they're greyish like the soup but have streaks of blue, and what looks like corn scattered in them.
The boy pushes his soup aside for a greedy older man to take and sneaks his way back to get a bar. He then slinks away from this hinky food feast.
Armitage     Sniffing at the air skeptically, Armitage enters the plant, looking around warily. His medkit is in a satchel, tucked under one arm and held close to his body. His searching eyes lead him to Tibbie and her barrel of fun, and the man walks over. He stops, scratching a bit at the back of his head, beneath his helmet and looks down at the slop, then up to Tibbie. "So, this is the local mess, eh?" He reaches for a tray and holds it towards the woman without batting an eyelash.
Jackson Most abord the Mothership were hesitant to eat anything that came out of the food processing area. It wasn't hard to guess why-- as one strolled through waste reclamation on their way to the utilitarian cafeteria, the system of belts and chutes transporting organic waste toward the 'kitchen' were clearly visible. Jakcson was one such individual. Up until now, he'd managed to keep himself alive through consumption of what edibles he could find in waste reclamation-- half-eaten candy bars, moldy apples, and at one point, he was even fortunate enough to come across a box of sugar bombs. He would've ate them himself, but he ended up passing them on to a little girl he'd seen heading toward Food Processing with her father. They were eternally thankful for his generocity, but his stomach certainly wasn't.
So, there he was now, tentatively tip-toeing into the cafeteria with a downcast expression, doing his best to keep his mind off of what exactly he was about to consume. Jack knew he didn't have a choice, though. It was either stomach the grool or die, and he didn't have any intent on dying on an alien spacecraft with no knowledge of who he was or how he got there. It was that very thought that carried him up to the front of the line, where he finally picked his head up to meet Tibbbie's friendly gaze. At the sight of her, his cheeks almost immediatly turned crimson. Oh, god. Of all the people to be serving him in this place, it just had to be the one person who he'd already offended the living hell out of. He croaked out his first sentence through clenched teeth, and a clearly uncomfortable look on his face.
"Yeah, uhh.. About the other day? Sorry about that. I have this thing where I can't filter my thoughts. They just kind of.. Vocalize." With that said, he made his best attempt at a dismissive shrug, but it looked more like some sort of nervous twitch more than anything. However, his cheeks finally faded back to their normal color when he moved on to the topic at hand.
"So.. Uhh.. Which do you reccomend? The Bars, or.. Uh.. The.. Paste?"
Tibbie "You're right it is, we're making what's given more tolerable than what that machine makes by itself." Tibbie softly smiles to the Army-clad guy while ladling out some soup onto the indented tray. She nods and offers a small wave as he checks out the other offers on the table before her eyes fall to Jackson.

"Oh! I appreciate the apology sir." Tibbie smile has pink cheeks on each side and she nods to the things on the table.
"I have had a taste of everything while cooking, so I would recommend everything but the 'salad'. In fact, I will take a break and join you for..this meal." Tibbie says a little perplexed about what to call this meal exactly due to no source of time. She signals a stout woman to take over for her once Tibbie's served the tall pale man and herself.

"It's diffcult to fight our desires at times, I surely have my own battles as well." She adds to what she said earlier and walks to a table that's not too crowded.

"I wish we all could at least remember our names, my current name is green-suit girl and it's not very catchy." She chuckles and stirs her soup.
Armitage     Frowning as the other man cuts in front of him, Armitage offers a soft grunt. He waits his turn, however, and receives his portion of slop. He sniffs the stuff and shrugs, then grabs a protein bar and moves to sit at a table, not far from where Tibbie and the other man had placed themselves.

    Unlike most people, who seem wary of eating the mess on the plate, the medic sets to with gusto. He piles as much of the goop onto a spoon as possible and then shovels it into his gullet, swallowing without chewing. The next helping of the concoction is already being spooned up before he even finishes taking the last bit down. It seems this man is a veteran of sketchy food service.
Jackson As green-suit girl spooned out the army guy's soup, Jack gave the meal in question a careful appraisal as they exchanged words with one another. At the very least, the man seemed to be just as much in the dark as they were, and that was a good thing-- at least, it was in regard to the consistency of their situation. When it came to the so-called food, if nothing else, Jack was happy to hear that they were at least TRYING to make the stuff more palletable. He still wasn't sure just how successful that endeavor had been, but he could hope, right? Jack chose to respond to Armitage's appraisal of the food as he fixed his attention on the bowl of grool he'd been given.
"It's.. Uh.. It's a mess alright." He said weakly, trying with all of his might to force appetizing thoughts into his brain. It was only then that he realized he'd, in fact, rudely shoved his way directly in front of the man, almost as if he didnt' care. When he realized that, he turned to the man, giving him a clearly apologetic expression, and did his best to break the ice.
"Still probably loads better than what you guys got on the frontlines, though. I've heard rations are shit." It was then that green-suit girl turned toward him, and responded to his befuddled outburst. Thankfully, she was merciful, and seemed the nice sort. Any other female in the known universe probably would've (rightfully) tore his ass apart. Her words did bring a smile to his face though, and made him feel a hell of a lot better about his brain-mouth filter. As she continued in her response, Jack followed her to her table of choice after making the decision to try two of the ration bars. As he sat down and peeled the wrapper back, he couldn't exactly say that the thing looked... Well, edible... But he did his best. Taking a big bite out of it, he chewed the semi-tasteless, crunchy-chewy-stringy thing to the best of his ability, swallowed, and spoke up briefly before standing back up.
"One sec." At that, he wlaked over to Armitage at his table, ration bar in hand, and offered the man his second one without a moment of hesitation.
"Sorry about that, man. Like I said. I have like, no situational awareness. If you want, you're more than welcome to join us. No point in sitting here all by your lonesome." With that, he gave the man a smile, and moved back over to his prior position, sitting back down.
"Sorry about that, trying to be friendly. Ya never know who can be helpful around here. But, uh.. I get what you mean. Usually I don't have issues with controlling myself like that, but. Well, who the hell even knows, right? For all I know that's a normal thing for me. If it makes you feel any better, green suit is definitely better than, 'Guy who doesn't shut the hell up.'"
Tibbie Green-suit girl had taken her first bite of the chunky unappealing soup and was chewing it with a concerned look on her face as the bland yet foul taste hits her, as she chews she watches the exchange between mister blathers-on and army guy. As he sits back down she smiles to them both and nods agreeably to his offer of joining them. She chuckles at his newfound nickname.
"Surely there must be a way to get ourselves back to whatever we used to be, unless perhaps they use it somehow, for something?" She tilts her head at the thought and takes a tiny spoonful to her lips.
Armitage     Armitage looks up as he's offered the bar and gives a polite nod in return. "Thanks." He glances over to the table where the man sits with Tibbie, then shrugs and brings his tray over. He then continues setting to until there's nothing but smears of gelatenous sludge in the depression. He leans forward, as though about to actually lick the tray clean, then stops himself and opens one of the 'protein' bars instead. This he uses like a dinner roll, absorbing the last of the sludge and taking large bites of the bar, chewing only as much as necessary and gulping the mix down. A loud "*BRAAAAP*" escapes the man as he finishes his meal. He glances over to Tibbie, "Use what somehow?" He inquires, seeming somewhat confused. He juts his chin at the meal and shakes his head, "Very first thing you learn, the very first day of basic training, is try not to taste it. For one thing, in basic, you don't have time. For another, you probably don't want to taste it if you can help it." The man shrugs then and looks over to Jackson, "And apology accepted. I think we're all a bit out of sorts here. Wherever the frak here is." He squints his eyes and looks around, "Brass better have a good explanation for this. Or a good antidote for whatever drugs they're doping me up with." He taps the name tag on his fatigues, then the rank insignia on his collar. "I think I'm Major Armitage. Unless I'm wearing someone else's kit."
Jackson Green suit girl's concern seemed valid upon first impression, but Jack dismissed it with a nonchalant shake of the head. He couldn't really determine how, or why the aliens did what they did, but he was posetive that it wouldn't be permanant. He started to respond, but paused as the army guy sat down at their table, piling his grool in like a trained professional. It was honestly a bit impressive to watch him disregard the crap taste so efficiently. He made an art form out of eating garbage. That didn't really sound that impressive on paper, but watching it happen? Jack knew that was a hell of a useful skill. He queried as to what they were discussing, and Jack piped up to inform him whilst simultaneously responding to green suit girl.
"Oh, memory, and identity. We were talking about the possibility of ever returning to the way we were before, if at all possible. Here's my opinion, though. Scientifically speaking, all the identity really is is electrochemical patterns formed within the nervous system." He started, taking another bite of his ration bar with a grimace. He chewed it thoroughly, swallowed it with a struggle, then continued.
"So, hypothetically speaking, one could probably jumble up the signals bouncing between nerves synapses in our brain to cause some sort of amnesia. Hell, they're aliens-- they might even be able to watch our memory like a cheap holotape. But they can't outright DESTROY them. Proof enough in that is that we still have memory to a certain regard. For example-- how the hell do I know anything about science?" After his short explanation, he paused to listen to the Major's explanation of his superb eating ability. In all honesty, it kind of made sense. Being a soldier, the guy probably never knew when he was going to have access to something edible. Why the hell wouldn't he shovel in as much as he could? Even if it tasted like shit, food was fuel. And fuel for the body was a necesary evil.
"Well, major. It's a pleasure. Unfortunately for you, I'm pretty sure i'm not some sort of computer program. This is reality.. At least... I think it is. I'd have to do some sort of insane experiment to figure out whether the hell we actually exist or not."
Armitage     Armitage grunts, "Electrical impulses, huh? Evidently you've never seen what happens to a hard drive when you expose it to an EMP." He makes vague explodey motions, then pauses, "Wait. Did you say aliens?" He squints his eyes and leans forward, "So that robot was right? We're on board some sort of pinko alien space craft?"
Jackson Jack shrugged.
"Well, it'll be able to tell me for sure once i'm finished fixing it up. I've been doing just that, to try to figure out.. Just that, actually. But I don't really have any reason to doubt it. We woke up in cryogenic stasis pods, and I haven't seen the sun for days. Sounds like aliens to me."
Armitage     "Could be. Could also just be a Vault." Armitage shrugs, "I've never seen one, but I've heard about em." He waves a hand around. "I haven't seen the sun, no, but I haven't seen a never ending vacuum, either." He sighs and looks around. "At any rate, I guess I should get back to exploring." he holds up the protein bar given him by Jackson earlier, then stuffs it in a pocket of his armored vest. "Thanks again for this. Gotta keep the calories up. Just wish I had something with kick to wash it down with." He looks around, "Anyone manage to find a still on this place? Or maybe the gear to make one?"
Tibbie The three alien abductees bounce from subject to subject; filling in Armitage about the aliens, the possible lives of their captors, where their lost love 'Murica is, and how exactly Green-Suit assembled god knows what into their meal. They chuckle along and it takes Green a while to work through her soup, but once she's finished she thanks the two for their company and tells them she's needed back to feed the rest of the survivors right around the time Armitage stands to leave aswell. The stout woman from earlier had been sending Green glares, eyerolls, and long audible sighs during her break. It's not easy being abductees!