Alfegos
06-11-2008, 23:00
1800 hours - Los'vi Coast
In the distance, ripples crossed the calm waters on the fine sands below, as a figure gazed out from his sheltered vantage point. The sun was sinking in the sky, the distant clouds out in the open ocean occasionally blocking out its last brilliance. The undulations that crossed the sea below were strangely calm for this time of year, a prelude to the storms that would be coming in by tomorrow afternoon. In front of the shape by the cliffside, a small pool of trapped water rippled as a light breeze blew over it, the murky shapes of a few fish occasionally appeared at the surface, before disappearing again. In fear of the birds, slowly gathering as the waters retreated, imprinting itself into the sand. A rarity of a coastline, untouched by the ten thousand inhabitants of this island, the most populous island in the Los'vi chain, the last outcrop before the great empty seas of the west.
The figure itself continued watching, leaning against the steep cliffs behind as it gazed out into the distance. A small ship slowly cut through the waters out in the distance, the only man-made incursion upon this land. No doubt headed into the great city of Milkavich, seemingly a million miles from this refuge, in its isolated universe. The only sanctuary that the man, hidden underneath his heavy woollen cloak and scarf from the cold that was drawing in with the night. With this calm came unseasonable coldness, winds blowing in from the south-west causing temperatures to drop in this otherwise tropical zone. The lone date palm clasping onto the rock face above reminded him of that, looking out forlornly over the bay.
Finally, as a heavy rain cloud moved out across in the distance, the figure reacted. From deep within his clothing, he revealed a dark item, matching with the scene. Raising it up, a brief ray of light revealed the textured plastic surface to be that that the man was familiar with, the tool of his trade. After a few moments, his right index finger pressed down upon a dark metal panel, rewarding him with the clicks and whirrs that he was familiar with. On the other end of the device, an image briefly flashed upon on the small LCD screen, a trapped moment of the world now converted by technology into an electric current, now burnt into the unit's memory. Taking a few more, he turned the camera off, before placing it back in the hidden holster beneath his clothing.
For a moment, it looked like the man was about to say something: a flicker of movement showed suppressed memories and emotions rush up to the surface, before disappearing again. The features of a face returned to a passive neutrality, mirrored in a visage that seemed to reflect the landscape around him: sun, wind and salt had produced an aged complexion that its bearer made no effort to hide, a series of lines cut across by a single ugly mark cut into the tanned flesh of his right cheek, a jagged line of dead skin across a sun-warmed skin. Following it up from an origin on his shaved jawline, it reached to just below the most interesting features of his face: the two brilliant eyes. His left one stared across the landscape around him with a brilliant green glow emanating from behind the glasses that he wore. The right one however glowed a much dimmer green, showing in it memories of places he had been, not least the pupil that extended downwards into its iris, a jagged band of dark showing again of some remembered injury.
Brushing locks of black hair aside, the man began walking back along the coast, a trail of marks following behind him.
"Take only pictures, leave only footprints"
The man smiled as he remembered that phrase, before continuing onwards. Just visible as the coast curved around, he could see his goal amongst the more luscious long grass of the clifftop: his abode, a large dome of granite that protruded from the landscape, being at once both part of it and a man-made taming of it. A warm light flickered inside, the biogas fire warming the building in his absence. Passing up a hidden cliff path, his eyes wandered again over the sea and sky. Taking out his camera again, he took one last photo, before putting it back for good. It wasn't as if it would not be used again in the coming months.
http://i306.photobucket.com/albums/nn279/Tomahawk911/S8303685.jpg
_____________________________________________
Inside his dwelling place, the man sat at the glowing screen of his laptop, a person depicted on the screen sitting a thousand miles away. A cable trailed over to a small satellite dish, pointed at an imaginary spot somewhere in the sky through the window. A conversation was going on, data flickering across the air and forming into words, images and ideas.
"Are you sure Ge'soi? It's been two years since your last job."
"I want to: I've got over it all now, and just want to get back to doing something. Sitting for days here's not going to do any good. So I'll ask you again: do you have any jobs for me?" The photographer sat back in his chair, a look of impatience on his face.
"Not yet. Tell you what though - you come over to our head office. We've got rooms going free at the moment, if we don't receive any news whilst you're enroute. There's always something on."
There was a pause as the man sitting on the other end of the video call looked up something on his computer, camera still recording.
"The next flight out of the Los'vi aerodrome is at 2035 hours. It's what... three hours flight to New Zevkhay, so you'll be at head office at a half past midnight. Get your bags packed, and we'll make sure that you have a room waiting for you on arrival."
"Excellent. I will be seeing you as soon as possible. See you soon."
The call cut out, the icon displayed in the absence of the other part of the dialogue informing the observer as to the head office talked about: that of the Alfegos News Network, the largest media body in Alfegos.
For a few seconds, the man sat in thought, a maelstrom of emotions: whilst he was happy to be getting back to the work he was best at, he feared what he would be seeing again; what he had come to this far-flung corner of the world for. Sipping on a cup of dark hot chocolate, he quickly ended the few applications running, transferring files onto a portable disk drive before closing and packing up the system. Folding up the satellite dish, he placed that in a small hard-case, before moving over to the bags he had already packed. There were three bags altogether: a large rucksack acting as the traditional suitcase sat alongside the freshly packed laptop metal case, and the most important piece of all. The small grey case that now hung off his belt was the camera case, a shrine to the tool of his trade, along with a selection of lenses, memory cards, battery packs and assorted cables, enough to last the periods he would be out 'at work'. Picking them up, he locked the door behind him, placing the key in a small key safe hidden cut into the rock. Checking over his pockets again, he paced over to a waiting taxi at the end of the rocky track, nodding to the driver as he got in.
_____________________________________________
OOC: Basically, I'm doing a character RP with a difference - I'll be putting in photos. TG me with any events that have happened, and I'll try posting up a mix of both my own photos (as above) and ones I find in accordance to news stories. I'll do this first-come first-served, with people I approve free to post in-country correspondence for ANN, in particular for Ge'soi (who does the photography, famous in particular for his war photography, for the ANN Global Herald). Comments are welcome via TG as well.
In the distance, ripples crossed the calm waters on the fine sands below, as a figure gazed out from his sheltered vantage point. The sun was sinking in the sky, the distant clouds out in the open ocean occasionally blocking out its last brilliance. The undulations that crossed the sea below were strangely calm for this time of year, a prelude to the storms that would be coming in by tomorrow afternoon. In front of the shape by the cliffside, a small pool of trapped water rippled as a light breeze blew over it, the murky shapes of a few fish occasionally appeared at the surface, before disappearing again. In fear of the birds, slowly gathering as the waters retreated, imprinting itself into the sand. A rarity of a coastline, untouched by the ten thousand inhabitants of this island, the most populous island in the Los'vi chain, the last outcrop before the great empty seas of the west.
The figure itself continued watching, leaning against the steep cliffs behind as it gazed out into the distance. A small ship slowly cut through the waters out in the distance, the only man-made incursion upon this land. No doubt headed into the great city of Milkavich, seemingly a million miles from this refuge, in its isolated universe. The only sanctuary that the man, hidden underneath his heavy woollen cloak and scarf from the cold that was drawing in with the night. With this calm came unseasonable coldness, winds blowing in from the south-west causing temperatures to drop in this otherwise tropical zone. The lone date palm clasping onto the rock face above reminded him of that, looking out forlornly over the bay.
Finally, as a heavy rain cloud moved out across in the distance, the figure reacted. From deep within his clothing, he revealed a dark item, matching with the scene. Raising it up, a brief ray of light revealed the textured plastic surface to be that that the man was familiar with, the tool of his trade. After a few moments, his right index finger pressed down upon a dark metal panel, rewarding him with the clicks and whirrs that he was familiar with. On the other end of the device, an image briefly flashed upon on the small LCD screen, a trapped moment of the world now converted by technology into an electric current, now burnt into the unit's memory. Taking a few more, he turned the camera off, before placing it back in the hidden holster beneath his clothing.
For a moment, it looked like the man was about to say something: a flicker of movement showed suppressed memories and emotions rush up to the surface, before disappearing again. The features of a face returned to a passive neutrality, mirrored in a visage that seemed to reflect the landscape around him: sun, wind and salt had produced an aged complexion that its bearer made no effort to hide, a series of lines cut across by a single ugly mark cut into the tanned flesh of his right cheek, a jagged line of dead skin across a sun-warmed skin. Following it up from an origin on his shaved jawline, it reached to just below the most interesting features of his face: the two brilliant eyes. His left one stared across the landscape around him with a brilliant green glow emanating from behind the glasses that he wore. The right one however glowed a much dimmer green, showing in it memories of places he had been, not least the pupil that extended downwards into its iris, a jagged band of dark showing again of some remembered injury.
Brushing locks of black hair aside, the man began walking back along the coast, a trail of marks following behind him.
"Take only pictures, leave only footprints"
The man smiled as he remembered that phrase, before continuing onwards. Just visible as the coast curved around, he could see his goal amongst the more luscious long grass of the clifftop: his abode, a large dome of granite that protruded from the landscape, being at once both part of it and a man-made taming of it. A warm light flickered inside, the biogas fire warming the building in his absence. Passing up a hidden cliff path, his eyes wandered again over the sea and sky. Taking out his camera again, he took one last photo, before putting it back for good. It wasn't as if it would not be used again in the coming months.
http://i306.photobucket.com/albums/nn279/Tomahawk911/S8303685.jpg
_____________________________________________
Inside his dwelling place, the man sat at the glowing screen of his laptop, a person depicted on the screen sitting a thousand miles away. A cable trailed over to a small satellite dish, pointed at an imaginary spot somewhere in the sky through the window. A conversation was going on, data flickering across the air and forming into words, images and ideas.
"Are you sure Ge'soi? It's been two years since your last job."
"I want to: I've got over it all now, and just want to get back to doing something. Sitting for days here's not going to do any good. So I'll ask you again: do you have any jobs for me?" The photographer sat back in his chair, a look of impatience on his face.
"Not yet. Tell you what though - you come over to our head office. We've got rooms going free at the moment, if we don't receive any news whilst you're enroute. There's always something on."
There was a pause as the man sitting on the other end of the video call looked up something on his computer, camera still recording.
"The next flight out of the Los'vi aerodrome is at 2035 hours. It's what... three hours flight to New Zevkhay, so you'll be at head office at a half past midnight. Get your bags packed, and we'll make sure that you have a room waiting for you on arrival."
"Excellent. I will be seeing you as soon as possible. See you soon."
The call cut out, the icon displayed in the absence of the other part of the dialogue informing the observer as to the head office talked about: that of the Alfegos News Network, the largest media body in Alfegos.
For a few seconds, the man sat in thought, a maelstrom of emotions: whilst he was happy to be getting back to the work he was best at, he feared what he would be seeing again; what he had come to this far-flung corner of the world for. Sipping on a cup of dark hot chocolate, he quickly ended the few applications running, transferring files onto a portable disk drive before closing and packing up the system. Folding up the satellite dish, he placed that in a small hard-case, before moving over to the bags he had already packed. There were three bags altogether: a large rucksack acting as the traditional suitcase sat alongside the freshly packed laptop metal case, and the most important piece of all. The small grey case that now hung off his belt was the camera case, a shrine to the tool of his trade, along with a selection of lenses, memory cards, battery packs and assorted cables, enough to last the periods he would be out 'at work'. Picking them up, he locked the door behind him, placing the key in a small key safe hidden cut into the rock. Checking over his pockets again, he paced over to a waiting taxi at the end of the rocky track, nodding to the driver as he got in.
_____________________________________________
OOC: Basically, I'm doing a character RP with a difference - I'll be putting in photos. TG me with any events that have happened, and I'll try posting up a mix of both my own photos (as above) and ones I find in accordance to news stories. I'll do this first-come first-served, with people I approve free to post in-country correspondence for ANN, in particular for Ge'soi (who does the photography, famous in particular for his war photography, for the ANN Global Herald). Comments are welcome via TG as well.