[It's an unsettling prospect, really. A ship like the one they were brought here on, run into the ground. Prior's examined the photos of the planet's earliest refugees and they make for a small and straggly group: he wonders how many of them lost their lives in the event that tossed this ship into the earth.
And yet there's some familiarity to the fractured shell of the ship and, more importantly, some solace from the frozen air outside. The halls still run with their own kind of life - like the strange machines that buzzed as Prior passed them and handed out a sheet of photo-booth images from home. He's holding these up as he walks through the ship, tracing his thumbnail across the familiar outline of an angel standing sentinel in Central Park.
Or he is, until he gets the sensation of being watched. He turns his head to find the source of the feeling, a coy (defensive) little smile on his face.]
no subject
And yet there's some familiarity to the fractured shell of the ship and, more importantly, some solace from the frozen air outside. The halls still run with their own kind of life - like the strange machines that buzzed as Prior passed them and handed out a sheet of photo-booth images from home. He's holding these up as he walks through the ship, tracing his thumbnail across the familiar outline of an angel standing sentinel in Central Park.
Or he is, until he gets the sensation of being watched. He turns his head to find the source of the feeling, a coy (defensive) little smile on his face.]
I hope you're making sure to get my best side.