Notes of a Wingless Eagle (// Closed)

[Jam]

Mark Hughes, 18th April 822 A.S., Planet New London

Well, guess what. I forgot to write an entry yesterday. I guess I was too busy rambling about my boss being a pain in somewhere. He's been weird lately, and I know why. I know the business is about to get closed, he doesn't have to attempt to hide that from anyone.

Which brought me here. I have to do something. If I lose my job before I have an alternative laid out, I'm going to be in a real trouble. That's why I'm looking to the skies. I could fly out there and try to join a convoy, or some miners. I could actually get some money from that, which would be great. That sounds like a plan indeed, though a bit - I don't know... unrealistic? I mean, if I'd imagine myself as a leader of a convoy and a random loser in a five-cent ship comes by asking to join in, I'd probably chase him off with all the plasma I'd have. Hah, well okay. Perhaps not plasma, but... everybody gets the point.

My dad would've been proud of me if I managed to mark my name as a respected leader. My mom also, for sure, though... I don't even know who she is. Such is my luck you see. I've never known my mother, and my father left me on this world alone. But he was a good father. May the heavens treat him well.

Oh, I fell in love. Not with a girl though. It's a fighter. The Paladin. Damn, I'm so in love with that thing. Once I'll be able to, that's the ship I'm getting. From what I've just read it's fast, agile, and is able to deliver quite a punch. And also it's less bulky than the Templar.

What am I even writing about? Yeah, right. Keep dreaming, mate.