#orbseol

There’s a certain sense of freedom in putting something together that is entirely of your own design. Knowing that no one else is going to understand it as well as you do, nor will anyone ever be able to use it as well as you do. Jackson revels in this freedom, which he finds every time he puts something together. This time around, he is putting the finishing touches on a personalised blaster he made, which will only work for the person whose palm print is registered in the device. Currently it’s his own, but he has inserted a way to change the owner on the blaster, so that he might give the gun to someone who’s actually good at using one. Because even though he could probably hit a starship from two feet away - performing a wondrous headshot is definitely not anywhere in his future.

It’s a side mention that these so-called ‘finishing touches’ have already been going on for several hours now, and they’re well past lunch time in anyone’s book, but Jackson’s just too damn excited about finally finishing his blaster to realise his stomach is crying out for something to fill it with. It’s starting to get hard to focus, too, so he would love to finish his weapon quickly, before his concentration is busted entirely. The idea that maybe his lack of concentration stands in direct relation to his lack of nutrition is one entirely foreign to him, so he doesn’t even attempt to find even a small bite to eat before continuing.

He can already see the end result of what he’s making. He’s taken a regular blaster and increased its power significantly. There is even a tracking device inside of the weapon so that the owner will be able to find it again even if it has been lost in battle. And the palm print recognition makes it so that the entire weapon refuses to function when not in the right hands. It’s a masterpiece, one of his proudest works to date, and he truly wishes Antario was still around so he could show it to her. The delight on her face at being given such a gun... Well, Jackson would do pretty much anything in the entire world to be able to see that.

your preferred weapon (when forced) into combat?

@orbseol

even when jaewon was just a child, he knew, without a centimeter of doubt, that he exists to belong to the sky, there is no other heaven. born to the muck and dirt in an alleyway, the dust clinging to his skin, to his hair, to his future, his eyes still managed to stare upwards and find the stars amidst the city lights, the smoky, deadly haze of an oncoming sandstorm always threatening to blur things out. but jaewon couldn’t ever be thwarted, couldn’t ever be deterred from his path to the horizon—the only question on his mind had always been, which is the fastest way upwards.

his trek off his home planet had not gone smoothly or according to any plan he’d ever wanted to come to reality ( the stench of blood refills inside his nose, a deep, overpowering iron and a sticky wet, humid atmosphere, the sight and smell of his ragtag crew slaughtered across the walls of their small hut ) but he’d hit the ground running from that, leaping off and never looking back. the spice mines yawn forever, calling his name and burning for his blood, never satisfied or satiated. flying to him has always been like breathing to everyone else, like swimming to fish or climbing to a monkey. he can be a little brash with his motions sometimes, but he does that simply because he feels the connection to the machine around him on such a profoundly bone-deep level, he knows he can control it.