stykera: (starkozu looks upward)
Like many current and former residents of Fandom, Stark had woken up not himself today. The hair wasn't a surprise this time. It had been a long time since he'd bothered to cut his regular hair, much less shave it.

The being girl-shapped was a surprise, even if it had happened before. He'd hoped that was the one and only time that would happen.

"Oh, frell," he said to the empty transport pod. The pod didn't respond.

Stark, being Stark, then spent some time flailing and muttering to himself. And pacing, though there wasn't much room for that. The transport pod, being a transport pod, still didn't respond.

So Stark decided he'd try and contact someone who would at least be sympathetic to the fact that he wasn't Stark-shaped at the moment and was in fact girl-shaped. And by someone he meant anyone. That's why he was trying to place a call to...anyone.

[Would have got this up earlier but ended up being gone all day. But it's still Friday here! Barely! Want a call from an emo and currently girly alien? Have at it! He would enjoy having someone to flail at, even super long distance.]
stykera: (thumb)
The others noticed Stark's absence eventually and commed him, notes of concern in their voices. He assured them he was fine and that he was being careful to not be anywhere he might easily be spirited away and placed in another box or cell and that he would be back soon, sooner if they needed him. He didn't think they would need him, but you never knew. Then he hung up, promising to contact them again within the next few solar days to assure them of his continuing ability to remain un-captive.

A little while later, bored with staring at the maps he'd purchased on the commerce planet earlier, he turned his attention back to the comms. He'd continued his fiddling with the comms, hoping to improve on the adjustments he'd made that had allowed him to call his friends from the island before. It had worked once, he reasoned as he tried to make his own calls, why not again?

[For my own nefarious purposes time's going more slowly out there in spaaaaaaaaace, because I don't feel like PK War-ing it up yet but don't want to drag out the timeline too much. Also, want a phone call from an emo alien? Have at it! He would loooove to talk to you.]
stykera: (lost boy)
They made it back, eventually, to the water planet. The Diagnosan, Chiana, Grunschlk and Stark all survived the trip, which was more surprising than the fact that they reached their destination.

The others had been busy while Stark and Chiana were off getting new eyes and a doctor, and all the tiny, tiny pieces of Crichton and Aeryn had been found. And then, somehow, they were put back together. It was good to have everyone back in one piece

Satisfied with the fact that he'd been right and his friends hadn't been dead at all and that they were now returned to themselves, Stark eventually slipped away back to the transport pod. He'd returned Chiana, he'd brought the Diagnosan back, everyone was back in one piece. He wasn't needed here right now and staying didn't feel right. In the discussion and excitement of new eyes, babies, engagements, and Rygel being suddenly pregnant Stark's absence wasn't immediately noticed, nor was the note he left. The note simply promised he'd return, as he always did, and that he would try his best not to be put into any boxes before then.

Once in the transport pod and away from the planet, Stark began fiddling with the comms. Maybe he'd get through to someone again.

[Stark will be back with everyone, eventually, so I can do PK Wars in my own special highly abridged way. And through the magic of being a glowy plot device he won't even miss anything important. And Rygel being pregnant? Never gonna not be funny. Open, if anyone would like to contact or be contacted by an emo alien.]
stykera: (thumb)
There were no funny hats in space these days. Just a cramped transport pod with a Nebari, a Diagnosan, a Banik and a ... whatever it was Grunschlk was. Luckily, the trip back to the water planet wasn't all that long. It just felt that way.

To keep himself from sliding any further into insanity, Stark had been working on adjusting his comms. He was certain he could manage to make the comms connect to the Fandom alumni network with a little effort. Or, as it turned out, a lot of effort. A transport pod containing a drunk Diagnosan, his handler, and Chiana was not the best work environment for anyone, let alone someone as unstable as Stark so often was. But he was certain he could make it work.

He was certain he had made it work, actually, but he'd been certain of many other successes in the past that hadn't turned out to be successes at all. That hadn't stopped him before, and it didn't stop him now.

So while the pod made a brief stop on a commerce planet and Stark was left blissfully alone for a few microts, he very tentatively tried out his new and theoretically improved comms. Whether he'd be able to make contact with anyone wasn't clear, but he was going to say a hello into the ether and hope for the best.

[Farscape is 10 years old today. Woo! I decided to celebrate I would maybe let Stark actually interact with someone. Crazy, I know. But it just might work. If you've any desire to receive something like a phone call from an emo alien, now would be the time.]


stykera: (Default)

March 2012

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