Like I said, I just did this for school and decided to put it up. I tried to hit Mal's personality and how he feels about his crew as accurately as possible. Probably would have put swearing in here except I couldn't do that for school. xD
I don't own Firefly, character's included.
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Sometimes it's great to just to sit back and watch the 'verse go by. 'Specially if you're a man who's doin' jobs that the rest of the world wouldn't consider quite decent. Bein' on the run can have it's perks, no one to tell you what to do and how to do it. But it does make things just the slightest tense and stressful. So when I find myself in a position to actually let my crew and I relax, I make use of it. Just like any good captain should.
Kaylee, Serenity's bright 'n shiny mechanic, hums one of them tunes that you hear, but don't quite know where it's from. You just know it was what it was. She beams at that handsome doctor of hers as if she couldn't be happier. Knowin' her, she probably couldn't. That girl could be the brightest ray of happiness if she only had the clothes on her back in the middle of the black. Quite a girl, she is. The doc's lucky to have her. Simon is smiling nearly as wide as she is, which is quite a feat for him. He's usually frettin' 'bout that sister of his. But he's got nothin' to worry about here. So he lets himself live for once.
Zoey, the most loyal right hand a captain could ask for, is snugglin' up close to the best pilot a captain could ask for. And if you asked her, she'd probably tell you he's the best husband just as well. Wash grins and strokes his wife's face, eyes tender as can be. I smile slightly; glad the two can finally have some peace together.
Jayne, a man who's most comfortable with his arsenal then with other human beings, fiddles restlessly with one of his many knives. He'd rather be out on a job, shootin' and beatin' up folks right 'n left. He doesn't know how to simply relax and let go of everythin'. It was one of his many, many flaws. I swear, sometimes I wonder if he's good at anythin' other than killin'. It don't matter I s'pose, just as long as it's not me or any of the rest of the crew he's stickin' his knife into.
Shepherd Book is sittin' under the shade of one the trees along the riverbank we're restin' at, bible in hand. I often wonder why he feels the need to read the thing over and over, though I know he had every word memorized. Maybe it's the same reason why Kaylee checks Serenity's engine at least one a day, and Wash plays with his little plastic dinosaurs. Maybe it just feels like some sorta home.
Inara drifts through a field of flowers, vast as I've ever seen. Her dress and shawl flutter in the slight breeze, ticklin' the petals like a mother might a child. The rays from the planet's two suns catch the black hairs on her head and she seems to glow like some sorta angel. And she did right seem to be an angel of sorts. Sometimes it was so easy to forget that she was a companion. But maybe keepin' men for company made you into somethin' more than just a woman. Maybe you learn more, though the rest of the 'verse considers you vile for such a profession. Who really knows?
I finally find River amongst all this peaceful visage. The doc's sister is one to keep an eye on, as she ain't quite right in the head. But boy, you couldn't tell by lookin' at her now.
River's tiny bare feet move nimbly across the bank of the rushin' water and the girl seems to almost be floatin' above the ground. She dances as if the beauty of it might scare away all the bad in the 'verse. And for a moment I think it just might.
She spins and twirls, a blur of pale skin and twilight blue fabric. Her tawny hair whirls wildly around her like some sort of veil, hiding her small face. Suddenly, she's airborne, forming a perfect split in the air before comin' back down to earth. More leaps and bounds thread into her dance, which becomes like some sort of patchwork quilt of loveliness.
The pounding of rushing water slappin' against stone becomes the beat for her performance. River and river, arm in arm, dancin' like it was their last day to dance.
Then abruptly, she stops in a slight crouch, hair twirling with the leftovers of the last spinning motion. Her deep brown eyes meet mine and she smiles like the day would never end just for her.
And perhaps the 'verse would abide.