Moira O'Deorain (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
biotictouch) wrote in ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png)
starhuevalley2018-09-05 10:31 pm
biotictouch) wrote in starhuevalley2018-09-05 10:31 pm
dual video/action - might be better if we dogproofed the lab
[ It's been a rich month for Moira, and by rich, she's been practically a hermit, leaving her farm only to walk the dog and get grocery. She's obviously been consumed by something but goodness knows what it was or what it could've been, god forbid the woman actually socialize.
There's a lot more happening than she'll ever let on, including but not limited to;
Hitting the bricks with restoring her biotic field harness with barebones utility at hand. Oh yeah, that's hit a stark dead end, so stark she'd been up for literal days at one point, simply trying to find a workaround for some missing key components. None found yet.
Angela had vanished without so much as a note. While she meant not to take this personally, after all, they were...faintly even colleagues at that point....well, she took it a bit personally.
And slaving over genetic mapping. When she wasn't bent on her biotics restoration, she was mapping her own genome for a private project. Exhausting.
So. Moira's been...gone. Save for one day at the beach when things were going a little....better, in her opinion.
Contextual layup aside, the feed has opened up from an unusual angle, one pointing straight at the ceiling, under a dog's nose. Pupper seems to have nudged the jPad on the floor, pawing at it, hoping maybe, someone will talk back at him. What's blurry in the background is Moira asleep on her desk, looking particularly disheveled, fingers rested on the rim of an empty glass. Who knows what was or wasn't in it, but it's gone now.
Interrupt if you please, but if you don't, the feed doesn't close for a while, not until pupper here has barked enough to wake her, standing suddenly from the desk and muttering in Irish Gaelic. She continues to yammer on to herself under her breath, taking her glass to what sounds like the kitchen. Moira's more than mildly disheveled, her tie untied, her top few buttons undone, sleeves rolled up to the elbow. To the delight of the shepherd, tapping on the floor excitedly, someone's being acknowledged. She pats him, only in frame for a second, and gingerly turns off the feed. ]
There's a lot more happening than she'll ever let on, including but not limited to;
Hitting the bricks with restoring her biotic field harness with barebones utility at hand. Oh yeah, that's hit a stark dead end, so stark she'd been up for literal days at one point, simply trying to find a workaround for some missing key components. None found yet.
Angela had vanished without so much as a note. While she meant not to take this personally, after all, they were...faintly even colleagues at that point....well, she took it a bit personally.
And slaving over genetic mapping. When she wasn't bent on her biotics restoration, she was mapping her own genome for a private project. Exhausting.
So. Moira's been...gone. Save for one day at the beach when things were going a little....better, in her opinion.
Contextual layup aside, the feed has opened up from an unusual angle, one pointing straight at the ceiling, under a dog's nose. Pupper seems to have nudged the jPad on the floor, pawing at it, hoping maybe, someone will talk back at him. What's blurry in the background is Moira asleep on her desk, looking particularly disheveled, fingers rested on the rim of an empty glass. Who knows what was or wasn't in it, but it's gone now.
Interrupt if you please, but if you don't, the feed doesn't close for a while, not until pupper here has barked enough to wake her, standing suddenly from the desk and muttering in Irish Gaelic. She continues to yammer on to herself under her breath, taking her glass to what sounds like the kitchen. Moira's more than mildly disheveled, her tie untied, her top few buttons undone, sleeves rolled up to the elbow. To the delight of the shepherd, tapping on the floor excitedly, someone's being acknowledged. She pats him, only in frame for a second, and gingerly turns off the feed. ]
no subject
Uhh, hello? Your video's on!
video
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