#orbseol

[jacksonorb-blog]

Creation | seol

There’s a certain sense of freedom in putting something together that is entirely of your own design. Knowing that no one else is going to understand it as well as you do, nor will anyone ever be able to use it as well as you do. Jackson revels in this freedom, which he finds every time he puts something together. This time around, he is putting the finishing touches on a personalised blaster he made, which will only work for the person whose palm print is registered in the device. Currently it’s his own, but he has inserted a way to change the owner on the blaster, so that he might give the gun to someone who’s actually good at using one. Because even though he could probably hit a starship from two feet away - performing a wondrous headshot is definitely not anywhere in his future.

It’s a side mention that these so-called ‘finishing touches’ have already been going on for several hours now, and they’re well past lunch time in anyone’s book, but Jackson’s just too damn excited about finally finishing his blaster to realise his stomach is crying out for something to fill it with. It’s starting to get hard to focus, too, so he would love to finish his weapon quickly, before his concentration is busted entirely. The idea that maybe his lack of concentration stands in direct relation to his lack of nutrition is one entirely foreign to him, so he doesn’t even attempt to find even a small bite to eat before continuing.

He can already see the end result of what he’s making. He’s taken a regular blaster and increased its power significantly. There is even a tracking device inside of the weapon so that the owner will be able to find it again even if it has been lost in battle. And the palm print recognition makes it so that the entire weapon refuses to function when not in the right hands. It’s a masterpiece, one of his proudest works to date, and he truly wishes Antario was still around so he could show it to her. The delight on her face at being given such a gun... Well, Jackson would do pretty much anything in the entire world to be able to see that.

Another loud rumble from his stomach attempts to tell him that it is high time for food, but he doesn’t even hear it, already having become immune to the feeling of hunger in his stomach from all the times he had to make do without a proper amount of food - be that because they were low on it or because the rest of the crew took it from him. That perhaps the noise might startle other people walking by, is another one of those thoughts he just doesn’t have.

[jacksonorb-blog]

◎

your preferred weapon (when forced) into combat?

Another one of those questions that takes him some time to answer, but this time because he’s actually deep in thought. He goes by the list of all the weapons he could use in his mind, then shrugs lightly. “Probably my newest blaster. But you never know about combat, I’ll just use whatever I have on hand. If we’re on the ship I could probably just tie myself to a part of it, use my oxygenerator, open up a latch and have them get sucked into space.” It’s stated very calm, like most things in Jackson’s life. Not an ounce of emotion in the calculation of his battle plans. “But if I’d really have to fight, a blaster always works. And I’m working on this portable shield that absorbs any blast which one could carry in their pocket. I’d probably bring a combination of the two so I can keep myself and the ship from getting too much damage while firing back at them.” He’s probably going to continue talking about every possible weapon’s combination to fight with, but then he remembered the question was ‘preferred’ so he’s answered it. He shuts his mouth and gives a final nod to show that’s his answer.

[syxjaewon]

YOU’RE CRASHING BUT YOU’RE NO WAVE

@orbseol

even when jaewon was just a child, he knew, without a centimeter of doubt, that he exists to belong to the sky, there is no other heaven. born to the muck and dirt in an alleyway, the dust clinging to his skin, to his hair, to his future, his eyes still managed to stare upwards and find the stars amidst the city lights, the smoky, deadly haze of an oncoming sandstorm always threatening to blur things out. but jaewon couldn’t ever be thwarted, couldn’t ever be deterred from his path to the horizon—the only question on his mind had always been, which is the fastest way upwards.

his trek off his home planet had not gone smoothly or according to any plan he’d ever wanted to come to reality ( the stench of blood refills inside his nose, a deep, overpowering iron and a sticky wet, humid atmosphere, the sight and smell of his ragtag crew slaughtered across the walls of their small hut ) but he’d hit the ground running from that, leaping off and never looking back. the spice mines yawn forever, calling his name and burning for his blood, never satisfied or satiated. flying to him has always been like breathing to everyone else, like swimming to fish or climbing to a monkey. he can be a little brash with his motions sometimes, but he does that simply because he feels the connection to the machine around him on such a profoundly bone-deep level, he knows he can control it.

all that aside, flying is as close to praying as he’ll ever allow himself to get, and how the hell do you teach a miracle to someone else? “you said you needed to get to the other side of the base, riding a glider is the fastest way, right?” he asks, pulling the bike up towards a girl in the data department—no, that’s wrong, she’s part of the lunae division now. so technically, they work together, so here he is trying to be nice even though it’s not really his aesthetic, but he wants them to at least get along; he’s definitely going to need her skills when the missions start. “it’s my glider but as long as you don’t scratch it and you bring it back to me at some point in the next couple of days, you can ride it over there. you know how to drive one of these, right?”