SHINY.

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messofamulti‌:

“Not savages. Afraid.” She crouches down and runs fingers gently carefully down the length of the bowstring, feeling the vibrations of the taught cord as it shifts under her touch. “Saw a big bird in the sky, metal bird full of people with strange clothes and strange words, come to take their world. They’re protecting their home.”

Don’t you go wild with that thing. River looks at the gun in her hand and her nose scrunches, a distaste far from the control shown only moments earlier when she’d pointed it at the now-dead man. “I don’t like guns.” No clarification is forthcoming, though, as she twists in place to peer at the arrow in the Captain’s leg. “We should take it out.”

“—take their⁠—‘take their world’?” he splutters, hands still clamped around the wooden shaft protruding from his leg. It’s a sharp pain accompanied by a dull ache, and a nausea if he looks at it too long; he doesn’t look at it. “You know fine well we ain’t here a-conquering. Not our style. Hardly an army, are we? They didn’t think to check first afore shootin me in the leg?”

He’s ranting, now, voice rising to something that’s not quite hysteria but isn’t all that far away. He shies away from her when she looks down at his leg.

“No. No, no, no. I don’t know much but I know that is a bad idea. Right now this gorram arrow is the only thing keepin’ all my blood inside my body an’ I happen to sorta like it there. We need t’get to your brother and he can do what he likes but until then—”

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messofamulti‌:

It actually takes him a moment longer than she’d thought it would before he gives in, her foot having just hit the bottom step. River smiles behind the cover of her hair. She doesn’t make a habit of manipulating her friends, but desperate times…

It’s like they all forget that she’s still barely more than a child. Intelligent and deadly, but still…a child.

Expression made carefully blank, her head turns toward the Captain. Brash and bossy and older than his years, but a good man who looks after lost little birds, even when they make his life difficult.

Not that she ever intends it. “I don’t run off.”

“Uh-huh.” A flat and thoroughly unconvinced sort of sound. “That case, we won’t have a problem now, will we?”

He casts his eye over his boat, once; he checks the gun holstered at his side. He keys in a number on the pad just inside the cargo hold doors and steps out, gesturing for her to follow as the metal doors begin roll down tight shut. Hardly likely anyone’ll want to go robbin’ her while they’re away—she don’t look like much ‘cept to him—but there’s still a nasty surprise waiting or anyone who might try to get in unauthorised.

He’s robbed too many boats himself to be ignorant of the possibility someone might try it.

Nose wrinkles as he steps out towards the edges of the bustling town, low and sprawling buildings concealing narrow alleys that are packed with people, all hot and cross. The place is a backwater dump, even more’n their usual stops, and that’s saying something.

“So much for fresh air,” he mutters. “Hope this’ll do for you instead.”

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messofamulti‌:

“Kaylee comes back and fixes the whining, and then we fly. Serenity flies and no time for little birds to feel the wind.” Because that’s right, isn’t it? Kaylee will find the parts and fix Serenity’s aches and they’ll be off, off again, back to their little tin can existence.

River sighs and turns, dejected steps carrying her back into the cargo bay, past Mal as she turns back toward crew quarters. “A little bird I am, shut from the fields of air.”

“Well there’s not need t’get all dramatic about it.” Mal says as she passes him. He hesitates for a moment, and then turns to watch her go, rounded shoulders and head hanging low. “Hey, I give you air, don’t I? I give you air!”

She’d been off the boat at Yinia, hadn’t she? Or had it been Sapus 5? No, no. None of ‘em save him and Zoe had been off the boat there, only half an hour to close a deal and get in the air before anyone realised they’d shorted the shipment. He groans, rolls his head, and tells himself that he ain’t feeling guilty.

He’s just... being pragmatic. She’s crazy enough as it, without adding stir crazy to the mix.

      “Alright, alright. I gotta pick up some cans. You can come too, if—if—you don’t run off. I don’t got time to go chasin’ after you. You run off, I leave you behind. Clear?”

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fasciinating‌:

shawl wrapped over bright blues for warmth & disguise, Spock angles SHARPLY at the stranger addressing him. an eyebrow lifts, then crests over his dark eyes, taking in the slow drawl of WONDER crept into his ears with burning question. logic supplies it is natural for an enthusiast to be curious, even admiring, of a vessel of her caliber. but experience, too many negotiations ending in BLOODSHED, away missions gone awry, have taught him BETTER than that. “ —I am a member of its crew, yes, ” Spock answers carefully, glancing quickly at the BRAVE, new world at the other man’s back. his rank & ship’s name—who he is—he decides, is irrelevant when intention, at present, & the need to learn its DETAILS, is more important, “ however, everything else, is entirely dependent on the reason you wish to know. to whom am i speaking? ”

“Wise man,” Mal comments with a wry smile, and finally tears his eyes away from the ship and towards the man with the claim on it. “’Specially out here. This ain’t exactly your bonafide, family-friendly tourist destination.” As if to punctuate his words, there’s the sound of breaking glass, somewhere in the distance, followed by the faint sounds of what might be Jayne, getting himself into trouble. Mal ignores it.

“I’m just passin’ through, too. Got me a crew and a boat and no particular destination. We go where the jobs take us.” Fancy way of sayin’ he’s unemployed, at present. No need to use ugly words when there’s pretty ones’ll do just as good. 

And isn’t this exactly why he’d told the others not to get curious? Curiosity breeds curiosity in kind, and they’re still running a little hot from a job on Hobion. They could do without attention. Still; Mal’s never been good at following orders. Even ones he gave himself.

“They call me Mal. An’ they call my boat Serenity.” A hesitation, tip of his head. “Alright, mostly they call her ‘junk’, but she’s called Serenity.”

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skysought‌:

“ I know a good place - good dive, not a lot of people wearing something like this, ” there’s gentle flick against his own shirt as he speaks. It’s casual conversation, acknowledgement for the commonly seen: tense of muscles, action - spring coiled, and a poised position to strike, to defend. “I’ll hand you the coordinates once I’m done.” 

Sulu moves, curious eyes following each curve, edge and pattern he sees. Critical eye meets one of appreciation - there’s pilot in his bones, and this he sees is another’s home. So, he remains favourable - respect with hospitality. ( Hands though remain at the ready - good man he may seem, but a soldier who knows war nonetheless ). “ Are you fine with me looking around, or you prefer giving me a tour? ” 

“Mighty kind of you.”

Of course, Mal has absolutely no plans to go where anyone in a uniform might suggest he ought; always been a weakness of his, following orders. Still, might as well add another name to their long list of places to avoid. Zoe tells him it’s getting too long, that there ain’t enough places left that’ll see ‘em in without shooting ‘em to be picky. Far as Mal’s concerned, he’ll be picky as he likes with his own gorram ship.

“Fine? Sure. Then again, she’s got her quirks, like any old ship. Maybe I’d best be around to warn you of ‘em.” There’s still three stairs missing where Jayne had put a man through ‘em, for one. “Shouldn’t take long; as you can see, she ain’t much.” A fondness and warmth in his voice that finishes the sentence for him, but she’s mine. He waves the man ahead, through the cargo doors and towards the ill-fated stairs.

“Gonna need to jump a few. Only got a day for repairs, and there’s more important bits need repairin.”

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traiilblazer‌:

Jim and the landing party of FOUR crewmen, two red and two blue shirts behind him also stop performing final checks on the shuttle and regard their assailants with the kind of contempt anybody willing to shoot and kill, over what? “ Well, you know what they say, man, guilt by association. Bossy thug bystanders occupy a unique sphere of garbage tropes. ” Jim raises his arms and the four women do the same. He splays his fingers high and takes a step forward, as if his shirt and the way his people defer to him do not already distinguish him as the guy they should be directing their questions, and guns toward.

“ Let’s put the guns down, then talk about what you want. Coolant? Medical supplies? New seat cushions? This is a science shuttle, not a luxury liner. We’ve got places to be. ”

“A bossy th—a bossy thug?”

He splutters out his indignation, offence writ clear in the press of splayed hand to his chest. He turns back towards Jayne, not minding the five in front of him—any man who’ll shoot him when his back’s turned’ll get what’s coming to him, right enough. “D’you hear that Jayne? I aint a thug, am I?”

Jayne stops for a moment and straightens, sniffing once and turning his head to spot.

“More like a ruffian,” Jayne offers. Then he leans out to look past Mal, and towards the man who’d mouthed the insult in the first place. “Bossy part’s right though.” He goes back to what he’s doing, and Mal turns around once more.

“See? Ruffian. Much more lovable. Charming, even. And I don’t give two whiskers ‘bout your ship—put your hands down, will you?—I care ‘bout where it’s sat.” He indicates the bay the small vessel has been sequestered into. “I got a mighty powerful feeling there’s somethin’ that ought to belong to me and mine in that storage bay. And since it ain’t any concern of yours, and you got places to be’n all, sure you won’t mind if we check.”

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messofamulti‌:

Wind shifts and carries the scent of earth through the ship, air more fresh than she’s breathed since their last stop, locked up in a metal can, metal can full of people all packed together like sardines, smelling like sardines rammed together in their tin can full of stale air.

And now she’s being denied the opportunity to cleanse herself of it while all the others get to go and run and live like the people they are and not the fish they’ve become. All except the Captain, and River keeps her eyes on him as bare feet step lightly across metal floor, walking the edge between ship and planet. “How long?”

"Long as it takes."

There's an ease to him, the same way there always is when a job goes off without a hitch. Alright; when it goes off with only minor hitches. Alright; when no one dies, and they get paid.

"Kaylee knows what she's lookin' for, and she'll be back here in a flash. Been squallin' at me for new parts ever since we left Bellerophon." He leans against the wall, arms folded easy 'cross his chest. "She gets a good deal, you an' I might even get t'fly her without that gorram whining noise she's been making. Serenity, I mean, not Kaylee."

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@messofamulti [ little albatross ]

He’s breathless and prone, head spinning as it catches up with actions taken on nothing more than instinct and adrenaline. Abruptly, like a switch flicked, the pain rushes in like a tide and he groans, practiced hands pressing firm around the gorram arrow lodged in his thigh.

“I’d say that’s a little somethin’ more than a thorn!”

It throbs. There’s an urgency in his tone because he knows they ain’t done here. There’s never just one group. That would be too easy.

“狗操的 savages,” he mutters, trying to pull himself to standing. “Remind me to leave ‘em some guns so they can just shoot a man clean through, next time. Save your brother some doctorin’.” He eyes the gun in her hand. His gun, to be precise; she’d slipped it from his holster with barely a whisper. He thinks about holding a hand out for it, and then decides it’s probably wiser to leave with it here, all things and the blood on his hands considered. “Don’t you go wild with that thing. ‘Less someone’s windin’ up to shoot me again, which case you go as wild as you gorram please.”

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@fasciinating

   “—she yours?”

The ship is shinier’n a new penny, despite the obvious damage that must be the only thing that brought her to bear in a backwater like this. He and his crew had watched her limp in, all standing there in awed silence. He’d forbidden any curiosity—nothin’ but trouble in a ship like that—and then wandered straight on down, all curious.

          “She is a thing of beauty. Man could get real jealous.” Not that he’d give up Serenity for anything, no matter what. “Begs the question—what in all the worlds is a ship like that doin’ in a place like—” 

Hand gestures vaguely behind him, shoulders turning to follow through but head not moving, fixed on the mass of the ship before him.

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@skysought​

A smile. 

“ Looking for something craft around here? That’s on you. ” Evasive’s one way to put it; a friendliness welcomed and appreciated even if he knows it’s tailored. Makes things a little easier, and allows a situation to fall onto the side of favourably not hostile. 

The soldier catches the colour of the garb worn; a stark contrast compared to the cool and sharp of his uniform. When he speaks, it at least sounds apologetic. Sulu gestures to the space around them. “ I’ve got to take a look. Orders are orders. ”

“Well, o’course.”

Mal steps to one side spreads a hand as if in welcome. Guy can look around all he wants, long as he doesn’t decide to get up close and personal with what’s hidden at the small of Mal’s back. For once, Serenity is clean as a whistle. Well, maybe not clean, but she ain’t much more than grimy, law-wise.

    “Wouldn’t dream of stoppin’ you. Sooner I can get this ol’ girl to some place with where the beer don’t taste like recycled body fluids, the better.” The rest of the crew are out making themselves scarce. It’s easier, all-told, not to have to try and deal with the law and all of them at the same time. ‘Specially River. “You seem like a man of taste. Sure you understand.”

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@traiilblazer

    “Oh, I’m not here to thieve the joint.”

He’s standing, easy, thumbs hooked in his belt like he ain’t carrying a care in the world. Behind him, Jayne lumbers past, strapped every inch with guns, ammo belts, and sundry tools of violence. Without looking, Mal jerks a thumb.

          “He’s thievin’ the joint. Me, I’m just supervising.”

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@messofamulti

Say what you like about the girl and however deadly she may be, she sure knows how to make a man feel bad. He blows a breath out through pursed lips, arms crossing over his chest.

     “For now,” he clarifies. “I’m wantin’ you stay inside for now. Leastways ‘til Kaylee gets back; I’m not havin’ you run around out there without a quick getaway on the cards. Can’t say fairer’n that.” And it is fair. Sensible, even. Only she’s got this look on her face, little waif of a thing, like he’s just skipped up and kicked her favourite puppy.

     “I’ll stay too. How’s that?” Not an offer he expected to make, but now he’s said it out loud, guess that’s what he’s doing with his day. Babysitting.

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@selflessdoctor

    “ ---- I’m ‘bout to show you something, doc, and I’d ‘ppreciate it if you didn’t freak out.” For once, he actually takes the time to wait for an answer, one brow quirked and something like impatience in his posture ---- or maybe closer to anxiety, shoulders high and tight, fingers curled into fists.

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@mexhanicisms

    “ --- we can’t just skip this whole middle part, just go ahead an’ plug this thing into that thing?” His gestures are as vague as his words. He might not have been listening as hard as he looked like he was. “Be simpler all ‘round.”

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   ------iiiiii forgot to be here.

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cmpanicn:

she likes to remember things like birthdays — it makes this all a little more NORMAL and bearable. besides, jayne always had fun on his birthdays.

there’s always moments of HESITATION when mal asks for help — you never know what end of the verse you’ll end up at, or what kind of PEOPLE you’ll be running into. inara’s first instinct is to dig a little deeper, but then part of her KNOWS she’ll maybe, just maybe end up refusing.

her shoulders straighten up a little, and she notices the seriousness that has CROSSED his face like a shadow over the moon. 

well, the rest of the crew doesn’t want to do whatever it is.. this is getting weird.

she grows a little serious too.

❛ it’d be nice to know what you’re asking, though, mal.. ❜

“Right now? I’m askin’ you to trust me.”

That ain’t fair, and he knows it. He’s asked a hundred things of his crew before now, and he ain’t ever stopped to think about it much. He’s their captain, in the end, and that ought to count for something. When it matters.

He drops his gaze from hers, runs a hand through his hair as he heaves out a sigh.

'Course, she deserves to know. But out here, in the black, y’don’t always get the things you deserve. Lucky for some, not so lucky for others, and there ain’t no way that Inara deserves any of this: a bonafide companion stuck on a ship what don’t exactly frequent the higher class sorta planet, with a crew who can’t quit gettin’ into trouble.

      Definitely doesn’t deserve t’be stuck with him. At least she might not be much longer.

“Someone’s gonna come to collect on what’s owed, and I don’t got it.” Wasn’t ever much chance of him having it, but amazing what he’ll say t’get himself out of a tricky situation. Or rather, t’get one of his crew out.

             (Ain’t nobody knows about this deal. Not even Simon, and it’s him and               his sister that Mal pulled from the fire with it. Not that he’d ever admit it.)

“I’m askin’ you to take care of ‘em.”

The unwelcome implication is there, for all he won’t say it out loud: ‘cause I won’t be here.

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poeticpecker:

                                      Waking up, it wasn’t exactly the sudden movement that had dragged him out of a midnight black slumber and, in all honesty, the elbow finding his flesh had only resulted in a pained grunt. No, it was the way he slowly but gradually lost feeling in his arm, that snapped Jayne awake. A string of Chinese curses left his mouth, creative in ways, not even his mother would be proud of. 

                                      For a moment he tried to reach up to his face with the numb arm in a fruitless attempt to get rid of the itch on his face but something heavy held him down. Slowly opening his eyes ( and quickly feeling regret to have come back to this mortal existence ) the mercenary came to realize that his arm was wedged underneath one Malcolm Reynolds. It was then that the hangover spread itself and embraced Jayne’s head while simultaneously sitting on his stomach and                being a tiny distracting weight on his finger. What?

                                      Another attempt to move his arm was made, this time he managed to wave it around a bit, catching glimpse of a delicate silver ring adorning his calloused digit. He let out a grunt, another noise of pain and his unwillingness to life. The dead flowers on his face surely completed the look of despair.  ❝  Don’t matter,  ❞  he finally pressed out, half tempted to just snuggle back into dreamland and die a quick death.  ❝  Can’t remember nothing after that local gave out his booze for free.  ❞  ( Somebody have mercy, he hadn’t even yet managed to move more than his arm and Mal was already in Mal mode again. )

Mal’s answering noise is something between an amused huff of breath and a slightly pained groan at the memory of it. Free booze. Matches up well enough with the heavy, lethargic headache settling over him right now. He ain’t usually one to get as drunk as all that --- happy to let Jayne do all that hard work. But y’don’t get free all that much, and only makes sense to take advantage.

He sits.

      ( Just about; maybe there’s a little back-and-forth sway to it. )

His hand comes up to drag the remnants of sleep from his face, the heel of his palm kneading against his eye hard enough that he sees stars. Something’s a little off -- not horrifically. Ain’t no one been shot, and he’s still got all his limbs, far as he knows. Takes him a while to figure.

“ ---- don’t s’pose them free drinks came with a jewellery, did they?”

Because, yeah, that’s a silver band a-sitting on his finger, staring at him like it’s got something to accuse him of. Which it might well. Slow as honey but a little less sweet, a thought begins to ooze its way into his mind. Try as he might to ignore it, there ain’t no avoiding the facts:

       one, he don’t remember enough of the evening to put a finger on events        two, he woke up with a ring on his finger that he’s pretty sure he’d recall        puttin’ there himself        three, he woke up next to Jayne.

Put it all together, and there’s a sick sorta feeling in his stomach that’s only a little to do with his hangover. He reaches over, grasps Jayne’s wrist and lifts it, so he can squint hard at ---- yeah, at a silver ring sat on one finger.

   “ -----------------------  羔羊中的孤羊 ”