Young Writers Society

The year is α492, a dictation displaying the passing of years of Sect α of life since the enabling of interdimensional and warp travel. Perhaps you have lived in α since birth, as your family before you. Perhaps you have recently come to α for your own fresh start in life--but for what cause or trouble?

Our story takes place beginning as the Dorian XIX--a spacecraft engineered as an interstellar communal hub--disembarks from its home on the planet Lydia.



"As a representative of Doria, Inc. I sincerely hope your travel, stay, and arrangements upon the Dorian XIX suit you and yours. Have a nice day.

The day is 1 January α492..."; the hologram begins to repeat. Because of Doria, Inc.'s rigorous self-saving measures, you have been educated on life in outer space through prerequisite classes, and today is the day that you embark on your new life. But first, some information, please.

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[size=110]Public Record[/size]
My name is ______, and I am __ years of age.
I am (male/female/other [please be specific.])
I am from the __ Dimension, and of Planet _______.
My marital status is (married/single/divorced/widowed).
My attribute description and/or photo ID is as follows. (Please replace all text and formatting.)

[u]Lorem ipsum dolor sit amet, consectetur adipiscing elit, sed do eiusmod tempor incididunt ut labore et dolore magna aliqua. Ut enim ad minim veniam, quis nostrud exercitation ullamco laboris nisi ut aliquip ex ea commodo consequat. Duis aute irure dolor in reprehenderit in voluptate velit esse cillum dolore eu fugiat nulla pariatur. Excepteur sint occaecat cupidatat non proident, sunt in culpa qui officia deserunt mollit anim id est laborum.[/u]

[size=110]Personal Record[/size]
[i][color=red]Disclaimer![/color][/i]
[size=90]Matters of species, race, ethnicity, and all others protected under the Anti-Discriminatory Statute of Doria, Inc. move that your personal information is of no consequence to our leadership or company; however, if you wish to provide this information to better accomodate your arrangements on the Dorian XIX, we will take it upon ourselves to protect your private information.[/size]

(In this space, you may provide written details of your species [human, some type of alien, etc.] You may provide reasons for living on the Dorian. You may use this space for any information you deem worth noting for those writing with you in this Storybook. Some suggestions are as follows: Species; Orientation; Reasons, if any, for leaving your original home; trade of choice; etc.)

[size=110]For Doria Staff and Crew Only[/size]
My position is ________.
I have served for __ years under Captain Roan.
I have __ years of experience in my field.
Through my years of service, I have received __ complaints regarding my station.
I hereby agree to serve loyally and uphold the standards and protocol of Doria, Inc.
[right][u]Signature Here[/u][/right]


Rules
1. All SB Forum Rules Apply
2. Romance within parameters is fully allowed.
3. Profanity is allowed, as this is rated 16+.
4. Make the world rich with your own flavor and lore.
5. There is no limit on how many people we take in.

Avi stared at the blushing stewardess as Jacek spoke to her in low tones. He was chiding her for making Avi take his mask off, but what could they do? It was part of getting on the ship in the first place. He'd allow only this once. Surely they'd be able to tell who it was without the need for the security check again... He sighed, reaching out slowly to gently tap his assistant on the shoulder.

"Jacek."

The pink-haired Baqiran stiffened, glancing back to meet Avi's gaze. They stared at each other for a moment before Avi withdrew his hand and inclined his head, moving to brush past both his assistant and the stewardess. She blushed a deeper shade of red but kept her gaze down.

"Thank you for the welcome," he murmured, not looking in her direction. Avi knew he had to be intimidating, what with the mask and the mysteriousness the covering of his face inspired. It was protocol, though. All nobility back on Baqir wore the masks; Avi wasn't going to forgo traditonal customs for the sake of another's comfort. "Please, lead us to our quarters."

"Sir--"

Avi turned to pin Jacek in place with a meaningful look. Not now, he thought, knowing that the other Baqiran would see it in his eyes. When Jacek seemed sufficently calmed, Avi turned and started walking down the long corridor. He tried to ignore the silently seething Jacek following close behind him, practically feeling the other Baqiran's anoyance without having to even touch him. Honestly, what else was Avi supposed to do? Stay home and let the new ruler kill him? Or worse, force them to bond?

He sighed and rounded a corner, pulling back abruptly before he could make contact with the person coming the other way. Avi blinked slowly, taking in the young woman standing before him. She looked somewhat human, but her nose was flatter and her skin was a multitude of purple, green and blue. Avi blinked again, slower. She was....rather pretty.

"Oh, hello," he said, keeping his voice carefully netural. "I'm afraid we're in each others' way--"

"Marcia Datassia," she said, offering him her hand. Avi stared down at it, then raised his gaze to her face and stared at that, too. She frowned at him, then put her other hand on her hip. "Haven't you heard of me? Famous star of Keeping up With the Kardashians? No?" At Avi's blank look, she sighed and gestured to the man standing beside her that Avi had only just noticed. "Here, have a holoray set of all 190 volumes of my show!"

Avi cleared his throat, taking an involuntary step back. "Uh, no thank you."

At that, she frowned deeper and took two quick steps forward, pinning Avi between her and Jacek, who'd come up behind him -- probably intending to interfere. "Oh, come on. Surely one of you has heard of moi?" she pressed, reaching up to tap the cheek of Avi's mask. "Yes? No?"

Avi flinched as her fingers slid across the mask to the edge of it, fingers grazing his jaw. A wave of me, me, me washed over him, making Avi feel ill. When she began to lift it, he pulled back sharply and turned away, not expecting the mask to stay in her hand. "No, don't--"

"No?" Marcy sounded like she was pouting. "No, don't what?"

Jacek shifted and suddenly he was between them, shielding him from her pretty, multicoloured eyes. "Please, miss, return the mask."

"Why?"

"Because it's considered rude to remove a Baqiran's mask in public -- or in private -- without their consent."

Avi squeezed his eyes shut, glad for the shield his hair provided. She'd only catch glimpses of his face, but at least she wasn't getting an unobstructed view. He'd let Jacek deal with her. Her touch still left Avi reeling, and he hadn't liked the self-absorbed nature of her thoughts. As he thought of her, he opened his eyes and glanced towards her through the white curtain of his hair. She really was quite pretty, and charming and --- what the hell? Why do I suddenly like her? Avi clamped his mouth shut and turned further away, listening only vaguely to Jacek and Marcia's conversation.

"Please, Miss--"

"Call me Marcy, please."

"Please, Marcy," Jacek hissed, and his bare hand brushed against Avi's, conveying the thought of spoiled little brat, just return Avi's mask, damn you. "Return the mask. It really is very rude of you to deny my request so many times now."

"But it's such a pretty mask," she muttered, and dear lord, she sounded even worse now. "I'd like to keep it--"

"NO!" Jacek shouted and Avi turned back just in time to find his personal assistant lurching forwards to make a grab for his mask only for the girl to take Jacek's mask off as well. "Dear lord, you are an incredibly rude child. Give that back!"

"No," Marcy said, her tone brooking no argument. "I think I'll keep them--"

"DON'T YOU DARE!" Jacek shouted, but the girl had already turned on her heel and started off down the corridor.

"Oh, please! I'll give them back....maybe never!" Cackling, she darted off around the corner, leaving Avi standing there wondering why neither of them were stopping her.

Jacek swore, something in ancient Baqiran, and turned to slam his fist into the wall. Avi glanced towards him distractedly, then reached up to touch his bare face. "She....just stole our masks," he muttered, stunned. That made Jacek look towards him, and Avi met the other Baqiran's equally stunned gaze. "Why aren't we stopping her?"

"I don't know," Jacek murmured, calming slowly. He bowed to Avi. "My apologies, sir. I have failed in my duty to protect you--"

"No," Avi said, waving off the apology. "You didn't fail. I... I think she has some sort of ability..." He sighed, shaking his head and sliding his fingers up to his temples. "I just don't now what it is." Avi forced himself to focus past the sudden pounding in his head. They would both need new masks, and those would be with their luggage...in their rooms. Avi exhaled carefully, and glanced up. "Please, take me to our quarters, Jacek."

"Yes, my lord."



Avi sat on the bed, brushing long strands of hair out of his face as Jace bustled about the room, digging through various pieces of luggage while he waited patiently. They were lucky enough not to encounter anyone else on their trip to their quarters, but that didn't mean that they hadn't gone unnoticed. Avi hoped that he could find this Marcy girl again. Perhaps he could convince her to give them the masks back. Unlikely, he thought, studying his assistant. She's a terror. I know her thoughts; they are self-centred...

"Aha!" Jacek announced and Avi blinked, focusing on the other Baqiran again. He watched as his assistant turned towards him, brandishing a new mask. Also silver, but with a silghtly different design. "Here, this should suffice."

"Thank you," Avi murmured, taking the mask from Jacek. He stared down at it for a long moment, turning it over in his hands as he mused over whether or not to actually put it on. "Do you think it's even worth it? To put this one on and have someone take it as well?" He glanced up, finding Jacek frowning down at him. "And what about you? Don't you have any more masks?"

"Of course I do, Avi. I'm your assistant and bodyguard."

Avi sighed, turning the mask in his hands until the back was facing him. "The things I do for Baqir," he muttered and closed his eyes, raising the mask to his face slowly. "Honestly, that brat--"

A knock on the door cut him off and they both glanced towards it. The rest of Avi's little envoy were in the room next door, so it couldn't be them. And it clearly wasn't Jacek. They exchanged glances and Jacek gestured for him to put the mask on before heading for the door. Avi did as requested, making sure this mask was more secure than the last. Jacek opened the door, shifting to shield Avi from whoever was on the other side.

"What?" Jacek froze. "Oh. Captain, welcome."

Avi settled the skirts of his diplomatic robes and turned his newly-masked face towards the door. "Good evening, Captain. How may I be of assistance?"

The captain beamed at the two of them before bowing a tad awkwardly before the two. "I have greeted your entourage already, and figured it would be proper...hm. Etiquette, I suppose. Proper etiquette to greet one of the more prominent figures aboard my vessel before disembarking." He came up from his bow. "Captain Roan Charleston Chbosky, at your service."

Jacek smiled at Captain Chbosky, as did Avi, not that the Captain would see it.

"I also came with something I believe you'll have a skosh of fun with! You see, while you were unaware of it, an anonymous member of your entourage mentioned Keeping Up With the Kardashians, with which my son is obsessed..."

Jacek was unsure how this would be interesting to Avi, but just as he began to dismiss the captain, he continued.

"He will be training in the Dorian Gym Complex for the upcoming swimmeet as he is representing Planet Lydia in the Alpha-93 Sectionals. If you know a first name or nickname or just about any damn thing about the woman who controlled you, I suggest meeting with him."

"This is...exceedingly helpful, Captain Charleston."

"Oh God No Please It's Roan. Charleston was my father." He coughed. "I should be off. Nice meeting you, gentlemen."

"Evening....Roan," Avi murmured, watching as the Captain turned and left the room. He glanced towards Jacek again. Avi waited a few moments until the door closed before addressing his assistant. "Well, that was interesting. Jacek, why don't you find this....son of his?"

"Yes, my lord," Jacek said, bowing. He went to retrieve his mask before leaving Avi alone in the room.

Avi sighed and took his mask off again, rubbing a hand over his face. He was tired and sick of running. Hopefully the Dorian would prove to be a safe place...for the time being, at least.

Marcia "Marcy" Datassia

Marcy found herself giggling while running down the corridor with the two masks she stole from those tall, dress-wearing dudes. It was so easy, it was almost pathetic. Will everyone on this ship be easy targets? She could do this all day!

Suddenly a wave of realization swept over Marcy as she remembered why she boarded the ship in the first place: to have a fresh start. As much fun it was to steal those masks and continue on another day like an episode of Keeping Up with the Kardashians, it wasn't like that anymore. The world wasn't watching her and...aw shoot, why did she feel so sad that the world wasn't watching her anymore?

Marcy looked down at the two masks: one was silver and and covered the entire face with rhinestones, and the other was black and mainly covered the eyes. "I'll wear the pretty one!" Marcy announced out loud out of habit, then remembered that the paparazzi and TV crew were no longer following and listening to her. Looking around, Marcy noticed that the only person around to hear her was a freckled caramel-skinned woman with curls on her head, giving her a confused look as she peered over her sketchbook.

"Here, a present," Marcy said to not look like a fool, tossing the black mask to the woman. "From Marcia Datassia herself!" She may have also tossed the first season of Keeping Up with the Kardasians as well.

Yep. Totally fresh new start. Inspirational.

Putting on the silver mask, Marcy continued to skip down the hall and wondered what to do next. She didn't exactly have a plan when she got on the ship. Maybe she should brush up on her education? No, that was for nerds. Maybe she should read? No, that was boring. Oh! Maybe she should head to the pool? She heard the life guard was ripped and will personally wrap his big muscles around your waist to save you if you were drowning.

Marcy stopped at an intersection of the corridor, then looked at the signs above. Bar to the left, food to the right. "I don't want to get fat by eating," Marcy said out loud again, then headed to the left, because: "Alcohol removes toxins from the body."

After a few minutes of walking, Marcy stopped at the first bar she saw and sat down on the only remaining bar stool open. Even though the people nearby weren't exactly...um...TV-celebrity-lookin'-material like she was, she still felt the need to show off and look sexy. Too bad this mask was covering up her beautiful face. Still, wearing a strapless dress and sensing her skin to be extra glittery today, she already knew she was the hottest one at the bar.

...which really wasn't saying much, because most of the people there looked boring and ordinary.

"Excuse me!" Marcy said, gathering the attention of the bartender. "Hi, yes. I'll have the..." She looked up at the basic drink items on a screen above, but didn't recognize any of the intergalactic drinks. "...Yes, I'll have the most expensive drink." She gave the bartender a big smile, proud of her answer even though he gave her a long stare then went off to make a concoction.

Marcy noticed a brown-haired, glasses-wearing human woman sitting to her left staring at her in awe. "Excuse me," Marcia called, but gestured to the bartender instead. "Can you make that two drinks?" She turned back and leaned towards the human. "It's for my friend here."

Humans. They're the easiest species to fall under the Kardash charm, and perhaps that was why Keeping Up with the Kardashians was mainly popular with them. In fact, Marcy didn't even try to use her charm like she did earlier to get the masks; she talked normally and it looked like this girl was flustered and red in the face and said something along the lines of, "M-M-Me?"

Maybe it was because she looked ordinary and seemed flattered that Marcy was talking to her—and this was without her knowing she was totally an ultra-famous, jaw, dropping, gazillion-dollar-making celebrity, no less—but Marcy felt extra flirty.

"Yes, you," she said, daintily resting the tip of her finger under the girl's chin, and then gently pushing up so she was forced to look at her shimmery multi-colored eyes behind the mask. "What's your name?"

"Claire," she said after a long pause.

Shoot. Did Claire have a low tolerance to being charmed? Because she looked completely mesmerized... In fact, she was sort of drooling...

"Well, Claire," Marcy said, emphasizing her name and scrunching up her face (good thing Claire couldn't see it with the mask on) as she pulled her finger away from her chin dripping with saliva. "You can call me—"

"Here you go," the bartender interrupted, sliding two giant drinks across the table to them. "Our most expensive cocktail, The Dorian. Careful now, you don't want to drink that too fast."

It was like his last sentence never came out of his mouth. "Cheers?" Marcy said to Claire, picking up her drink, clinking it with hers, and then GULP GULP GULP GULP GULP half of it was already gone.

She ignored the stares she received around her because... gasp... her cup was dirty.

"This cup," she said slowly, staring at the glass cup intensely. "...It's dirty." At that moment, she snapped her head towards the bartender who was giving drinks to someone else, and Full Raged Marcy commenced. "YOU!" she screamed. "How dare you give me a dirty cup?! Do you not have decent hygiene?" Because dirty cup totally equaled bad hygiene.

The bartender and everyone around the bar seemed to turn their heads at her at the same time, confused. "Let me talk to your manager!" she yelled again, this time enforcing her charm. Instead of the bartender obediently following her orders like she expected for a puny human, he shrugged it off and returned to work.

What? Why isn't this working? It was then Marcy realized: the mask.

Further enraged, Marcy peeled the mask off her face and chucked it to Claire. Little did Marcy know that there were several Baqirans around the bar that noticed Marcy's presence due to her shouting, and they only cared about one thing: their leader's silver mask that Marcy had just chucked to Claire. They seemed to switch places as Marcy angrily ran up to the shorter side of the bar and the Baqirans marched over to Claire looking like a very violent bunch of lads, but hey, Marcy had more stuff to worry about...such as a dirty cup.

"I said," she gritted through her teeth, leaning into the bar, "let me talk to your manager." She somewhat said that last part seductively to make sure that a full-force charm was used, so it ended up giving some weird signals, but the bartender fumbled through a door then came back with someone else moments later.

"Yes, miss?" this new manager said to her. Even though this was who Marcy wanted to talk to, this person didn't look like a manager with their chef hat and apron. So...he must not be the manager. CUE THE RAGE.

"This cup is dirty!" she shrieked, shoving the cup in front of the person's face. "I want a refund!" Here's factoid about having a couple drinks with the Kardash: their metabolisms processed alcohol very fast, and it was nearly impossible to drink too much of it, unlike humans. They were the ideal species to party and have a good time with, but in this scenario with Marcy in her drunken stupor angrily yelling about a cup, perhaps it wasn't the best of times.

Although Marcy kept forcing her charm on them, the bartender and chef-manager whispered to each other and scuffled inside the door again. "We'll be right back," they said, then disappeared inside.

Irritated, Marcy leaned very close to the bar and tapped her finger on the counter, eyeing the scenes around her. It seemed like almost everyone at the bar had left their seats, and the area where Marcy left Claire was suddenly filled with a bunch of yelling Baqirans, but some of them were pointing in Marcy's direction. Were they harassing her for something? Rude. Poor girl looked like she was going to vomit all over them. Tsk, puny humans and their poor alcoholic metabolisms.

Suddenly a woman came barging through the door, wearing a stern and annoyed look. The engraved pinned name tag on her chest said "lottie." Now she looked like the manager, which brought a big smile across Marcy's face because, yay! They did what she wanted them to do!

"What's the ruckus?" Lottie said, glaring at the foolishly-grinning Marcy. This woman appeared to be human, but she didn't—pardon the Kardash's innate tendencies—smelled human.

Marcy put on her pissed-off look again and shoved the dirty cup in Lottie's face. "THIS!" she yelled. "This glass that your bartender—" she pointed at the other guy, who looked scared out of his skull, "—served to me."

Lottie stared at her blankly. "...Yeah, so?"
"So? ...So?!" COMMENCE FULL RAGED MARCY. "Do you even know who I am?! You should be glad I came to this dingy little bar and gave it popularity!"
Lottie looked at her intently, but signs of extreme annoyance were still visible everywhere across her face and body. "You do look familiar," she said slowly. "Were you the garbageman who didn't pick up our rubbish?"
"HOW DARE YOU SERVE A DIRTY GLASS TO MARCIA DATASSIA. YOU SHOULD BE—"

Suddenly the pissed-off-for-taking-her-time-away-for-this Lottie swung her arm to bitch slap the hell outta Marcy, but by some miracle, Marcy dodged the swing by taking a step to the side, and—PUUUUNNNCHHHH tendons hitting skin, but no...it wasn't Marcy's.

She blinked as a new person stood where she once stood, and again, don't hate on the Kardash's weird animistic habits—but this guy smelled familiar... Oh! The grouchy guy she stole the black mask from and ditched somewhere! Marcy's face lit up from seeing an old friend, but immediately her face turned dark as she realized that the scuffle to dodge was microseconds away from the punch, and instead of hitting her face, it hit... it hit...

"My hair!" Marcy sobbed, feeling it start to frizz. Maybe Marcy was a flirty drunk with her encounter with Claire. Or Maybe Marcy was an angry drunk with her encounter with the dirty cup. Whatever she was, Marcy was definitely not a sad drunk with her encounter of her now hideously-ruined hair that consisted of a few strands sticking up. This was her worst nightmare.

Marcy began crying and screeched, accidentally unleashing a full-forced charm on a 25-foot radius of everyone around her. "Why me?" she sobbed some more. "I wish everyone's hair would be ruined too!"

Little did Marcy know that years and years later, this event would go down in the history of the Dorian, and a random civilian on the ship would say in an interview, "I shit you not, a pink shockwave rippled from her and sent everyone nearby under her spell, and suddenly, water was everywhere."

Water? Yes, water. This was the strongest use of her charm in a long, long time, and her statement convinced her victims to believe that she really did want other people's hair to be ruined... okay, that was a lie, Marcy actually, deeply, passionately did want to ruin other people's hair.

Somehow, someway, someone had activated the fire sprinklers throughout the entire floor, sounding the fire alarms and blood-curdling screams.

Lesson to be learned: never serve Marcia Datassia a dirty cup.

Lottie didn't know how she kept ending up back here, but as always, it wasn't going to be the last time either.

Roan sat across from her, the same wondering about how they ended up here so often. It wasn't that Lottie was a troublemaker, it was just that she refused to go to anger management classes.
He leaned back a bit farther in his chair, hoping that it wouldn't break again, and maintained eye contact the entire time.
"To be honest, Lottie, I don't know how many government officials that we will have to apologize to this time."

Lottie lifted her glass from the desk, took another swig of the amber liquid and carefully set it back down on the coaster. She didn't need to hear his speech on how you could get ring stains on glass tables.

"It's funny how you always say "we", when I get in trouble. How you always take some of the responsibility, some of the weight of my actions, you really don't need to."
"I was in plenty of trouble when I made it to Tombstone. All of the bar fights that you cause in all of the realms, wouldn't possibly add up to what I did. You helped me."
"And because of that, your wife thinks that I was the one you were having the affair with. Everyone should know by now that you're not my type."

Roan leaned over to the liquor cabinet conveniently placed in the top drawer of the filing cabinet, and produced a small green bottle.
"Do you happen to have two shot glasses in your coat? I think the cleaning lady stole mine again."
"You're avoiding the true matter at hand by serving me alcohol and no, I don't just carry those around. That was at Christmas time, the holiday season is different."
"So what if I'm avoiding it? You still have your job and I might not if my wife is coming aboard, and my son might have a few harassment cases."

Lottie stared at the green bottle as the color inside slowly changed from green to blue to red. She hated the concept and the taste of mood whiskey, which always tasted different depending on the mood that it felt in the room.
Self aware liquor, just what we need.

"I still have my job. That's right. But do you know how many watchlists I'm on now because all those years ago, you told me that they would never check. Your company is pretty discriminate about who they will hire but they don't seem to mind taking money from Chamaeleans and Enviens."

Roan's chair tipped farther backwards, now colliding with the wall.
"What?"
"I checked the passenger lists. My parents are aboard this ship. And I know that you saw it, because Harper told me about it."
"I didn't want to worry you."
"Look I will go and apologize to that little painted whore and the government officials, but you need to be honest with me, so I don't tear this star ship apart, piece by piece."

Lottie stood up, took her coat and bag, and then stared down at the table, wondering how hard it would be to flip it. There wasn't much on it that would damaged, except for how the tabletop might shatter when it impacted on the floor. It was still worth the risk.
She placed a hand under each leg and began to lift.

"Lottie, what are you-"
His chair went back all the way it could and tossed him onto the floor. She lifted the table a bit higher and with one final push, flipped it over. The contents pilled out and a picture frame broke, and Roan was still lying on the floor.

"Lottie, I'll fix it. I'll fix the personnel issue and I'll fix everything. Please just move the table."
"You had your chance to fix my career alone, now you're actually going to have to work with me."
"Will you move the table?"
"No."

She gathered her belongings again and in a way that can only be described as strutting, left his office.

Outside stood the painted whore and the government officials, all looking for some signal of apologies, but if she stepped too near, she would have just punched them again.
So she turned in the other direction and started walking down the hall, hoping no one would follow her. Someone did.

"Um hello? I'm Marcy, the person you tried to physically assault."
"Oh, so the painted whore does have a name. I thought the generic garbage would cover it."
"Your captain told me that you would apologize to me."
"I'm sorry...that I missed."

The girl huffed and moved in between Lottie and the door.
"Is that all?"
"If you want a real apology, I can offer you a real drink in my quarters."

Her eyes changed, almost sparkling, as Lottie led the way to her cabin.