"Tap thunk, tap thunk, tap thunk" the sound echoed off the metal bullwarks and piping that paralleled the narrow causeway. In the dim glow of the work lamps a young woman made her way down the hall, package in hand leaning heavily on a black umbrella with an ivory handle. She was in her mid twenties with strong yet feminine features of a Gascon nature and long blonde hair in a single braid. Her vestements spoke of one time richness but were now buried under layers of sweat grease and grime. Her face was set determinedly as she limped through the labyrinthine passage towards the door in front of her. The door was half open and bathed the hallway in the amber glow of Phosphorene lamps while just within the perimeter of the doorway a worktable could be seen, strewn about with tools, bits of gadetry and many wine bottles. Some were full, most were empty.
"Sacre bleu!" she spat as she stumbled over the threshold of the doorway and into the room sinking gratefully into the chair at the worktable. Once settled she surveyed her doman. The room was unremarkable- more of a closet than anything else crammed in between the ship's two engines like a single pendent among cleavage. The location afforded Lucienne several things: the first being a direct line to the health of her precious engines through the entanglements that made up the walls and ceilings of her cabin. Second it provided constant warmth through the radiated energy of the engines, and third because this was not a cabin original to the ship it was not on a map-- and not being on a map meant that damn Brit couldn't find her. That made Lucienne grin, which did not happen very often.
"Oh, damn!" her attention turned back to the package under her arm. She held it up to the lamp and examined it for a moment before setting it down on the worktable. She continued to study it as she reached across the table locating one of the few full bottles of wine, uncorked it and proceeded to eye the package with the same wariness one usually affords a rabid badger.
"Damn, damn, damn." More gulping of the wine followed. Lucienne finished the bottle and threw it over her shoulder, eyes still locked on the package. She placed her hand on the table and with the other began slowly unwrapping the plain brown paper. After what seemed like an eternity Lucienne found herself staring at a small white gift box with silver filigree on the top.
"Merde," she muttered opening the lid already knowing what lay inside. All the tension that had built up like a steam in the lines was released in a single sigh. Lucy held a large silver hair clasp. It glittered with small diamonds like fireflies in the amber light. Lucienne stood up gasping a little as she straightened her leg, and threw the hair clasp on the table. It lay among the rusted bits of metal like a bit of buried treasure in the sand.
"Merde, merde, damn, fils de salope!" She threw herself down on her bed and blew out the lamps-- she was going to need a lot more wine...and a dress. Her sister was getting married.
[This is a character from the Captain Stormhaven universe. She and Winter do not get a long at all (something about that British/French rivalry thing). I find myself increasingly fascinated with Lucy. She has come through a lot to get where she is, and she is not afraid to fight to fight for her ideals. She does have a few skeletons she would rather keep in the closet. She and Winter are two very interesting characters, very much different and very much the same at the same time. I am having fun pitting them against each other, on friendly terms that is, they are after all on the same crew!]