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Started by Olivia Cycien, November 19, 2012, 02:54:03 AM

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Olivia Cycien

Her platinum blonde hair rustled in the breeze as Geneve Gridley pushed the aviator glasses up onto her head and surveyed the sky. It was a bit windy but the weather looked all right. She'd be able to fly in this wind with no problem. The white scarf she wore flapped against the dark brown leather flight jacket. It was open, revealing a creamy expanse of pale skin and a black leather vest done up in a style similar to a corset with black rawhide lacing. Her tight black shorts clung lovingly to her like a second skin and were fraying around the edges.

A leather belt cracked and softened with age was slung at an angle across her hips. A gun holster was attached to the lower side of the belt. Tucked in the patched and worn holster was her long-time companion. She never went anywhere without her pistol. She'd learned it was better to be safe rather than sorry.

Her long legs were covered in grey and black patterned tights which disappeared into the well-worn and dusty brown leather boots that started at mid-calf and were decorated with a number of buckles. One hand, clad in a fingerless black leather glove, reached into her jacket and pulled out a pack of smokes.

She took a moment to light a cigarette then called out some orders to her crew. Things had been different since people started disappearing. She felt that this was the one thing that would never change, her love of flying. Her eyes moved to her ship, Hawkstone, and she smiled at the sight of it floating proudly a few feet off the ground waiting only to be untethered. Yes, it was going to be a fine day for flying.

PhantomVector

Spoiler: Click to Show/Hide

With the advent of nuclear bombs on both sides of the war, the end of the world as had been known arrived. After the Americans dropped their bombs on Japan, the Axis Powers dropped several on America. The use of these weapons continued until the late 1940s, and it wasn't until the signing of the Treaty of 1949 that the fighting had stopped between the two sides. The aftermath of the war was terrible to say the least, with much of North America inhospitable to humans, the country fell apart. New city-states arose in the place of the old democracy. The rest of the world didn't fare any better however. With many of the traditional land routes now inaccessible due to fallout, the use of air travel had become the prominent means of transportation.

She snipped the last of her once long fiery red hair away. She ran her hand through her now relatively short hair, and sighed. She looked around her small apartment, spartan in decoration, though not by choice. It was a simple one bedroom apartment, the main room was dominated by a bed, and a stove. The only other furniture in the room was a small dresser, and mirror. Though she worked hard as a writer, it brought very little money in. Her only other job as a waitress didn't pay very well either. Coupled with the constant groping made her dread every minute she had to spend in the small diner.

She wrapped a piece of cloth around her breasts, to keep them tight across her chest. For the most part women still couldn't serve on ships, and she wasn't actually going to serve on one. She was going to disguise herself as one of the crew, and hopefully last long enough to make it to Los Angeles. Her father had sent her a letter that was mostly gibberish, but it seemed like he was in trouble. She didn't make nearly enough money to get a ticket all the way home. So she was going to stow away on a ship, and try to make it that way.

She slipped into the black one-piece jumpsuit, zipping it up to her neck. She threw on a worker's vest, and toolbelt. The finishing touches were a pair of gloves, black work boots, and a baseball hat. She wasn't exactly manly, but this was her only hope. Finished dressing, she drove down to the docks. She looked around for a way in, after a few minutes of searching she found a hole large enough for her to slip through. She'd done some research before coming here, and already had a ship picked out, the Hawkstone. She slipped onboard, and tried her best to fit in.
For those I'm RPing with, Sorry I've been so bad with replying. I've been trying to manage my time better, but I only have time when I get home at 2am.

Olivia Cycien

Geneve heard the rumble of the Hawkstone's engines and smiled. It was time to go. She took another drag of her cigarette before tossing it away and headed toward the ship at a brisk pace. She'd have to be on guard today. There had been unsettling rumors lately about strange black ships that nobody had ever seen before. It was said that the black ships were not built the same as other airships and that they were dangerous. She had heard there might be some in the area. 

She boarded the ship and moments later was standing on the bridge, having taken her customary place at the helm. The OOW barked out various orders at the crew and the pilots checked the instruments a final time. When it was confirmed that all equipment was in working order, the Hawkstonebegan its ascent.

As always Geneve felt her spirits lift as the ship rose into the air. There was something almost magical about using machines to defy gravity. She loved the sense of freedom and excitement that came with each journey. For her, each flight was an adventure. Today they were delivering a shipment of water to Los Angeles City. Water was a big deal with certain cities, and Los Angeles City was one of them.

Los Angeles City was a veritable fortress. Massive smooth metal walls, which had been built during the war, surrounded the entire city making it difficult to access. The only way in or out was by airship. The massive metal gates had not been opened since the end of the war for fear of radiation. Because the city was contained, there was limited access to drinking water so they constantly contracted with ship captains like Geneve to bargain for water. The money for such a venture was definitely worth the hassle.

Once the coordinates were set, the OOW gave out orders to the rest of the crew over the intercom. Geneve left the bridge and took a stroll along the deck. The sun shown brilliantly over a puffy white sea of clouds. She went over to the railing and looked down. Below she could see the brown-grey patches of earth, remnants of the damage of war, through holes in the cloud cover.