station72 | Hello, it's me

Entry tags:

Hello, it's me

CHARACTERS: EVERYONE
WHERE: Hyrypia - The Swept Manor Grounds
WHEN: Morning of day 12
SUMMARY: Rudely calling like 80% of the Nest out for being cagey.
WARNINGS: Will update as necessary.

(Hello! Am I doing this right? Hello!!! Good morning!!)

[ The red sun is hardly up, it's barely after breakfast, some of the members of the nest may still be sleeping - and this one doesn't seem to mind. He noisily floods the network like a one-man-band who just won the lottery, his very thoughts musical and abrasively cheerful. ]

(It's been several long days since my young broodmate and I joined you in this dustbowl, but I have yet to meet all of you properly. I understand we're working covertly, but you're all quite cagey for being connected in the head, you know that?)

[ There's either a slight tone of vindication, as though he believes most have earned this morning call for being so standoffish. Or perhaps he's just being loud because he's inexperienced with the symbiote still. Possibly both. It's hard to tell through the band playing behind every word. ]

(Most of you don't know me yet, but I want to get to know every single one of you. Since we have another day here, I'd like to get started. Here, I'll go first-

My name is Gildor Helyanwe, and I'm a bard from Esterport. How are all of you? Well I hope, not getting too hot, learning to ride those constructs?)

[ The band stops. Crickets chirp, though hopefully not for long. If he's left hanging, he has no qualms over striking up the mental orchestra next. ]

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( You got pointy ears, what else am I supposed to call you? )

[ This is the rudest possible way of inquiring, but that's Annie. ]

( I'm bored as hell, this covert shit isn't my jam at all. I beat people up,
I'm great at it. I don't do subtlety. )

(Hm. Apparently that's enough for me to pass as one even here. Technically I'm half-drow, but I suppose elf is fine.)

[ He's comfortable enough with the assumption that he allows it to roll off him. Likewise, the music in the back of his mind continues without missing a beat, though it does slow just a bit. ]

(That's unfortunate. Perhaps this will be a learning opportunity for you? It certainly has been for me.)

[ He's playing her a sad violin, but he actually means it. He'd very much like for her to be able to beat their enemies up to her slimy heart's content. ]

(Perhaps you will still be able to use your fighting skills at the end of all this.)

( Aren't drow the ones that live underground and eat mushrooms and shit? )

[ She may or may not have speed read a Drizzt book or something. She didn't care much for reading though, it was too tied up in all her endless years of schoolwork and training. Reading was for gaining knowledge, not enjoyment. Even when she did read fantasy, it was mostly to keep up a conversation with someone else, feigning normalcy where there was none through touchstones of culture and concept. She preferred art, her own wretched imagination had plenty enough to go around. ]

( And look, I've been learning how to do paramilitary bullshit since I was born, I am and old dog, I don't want to learn any more tricks. I probably will have to against my will anyway, but god fucking damn, it's like it's never enough. )

[ Her noise and fury disguises her true distress at this notion. That she never knows enough. That she's never good enough, that she'll never really find a place of satisfaction with herself. ]

(Haha yes, those are indeed the ones.)

[ He's mostly neutral on the subject of his genetic makeup - the drow of his world are too closed off in their concealed society for him to know or mind much of their culture. He's been raised human and that has always had to be enough for him. He's only certain his drow half is where his taste for moss comes from. ]

(I'm not sure what paramilitary bullshit is, but as a fellow old dog I feel you on that. Although I've just come away from a long rest, and I'm not so opposed to learning a few new tricks. Hopefully the next stay on the Station will be a long one so you can rest as well.)

[ He's trying to be Mr. Brightside, as always. Her noise and fury disguise something he could almost relate to if she turned the volume down a moment, but he doesn't ask. That's her noise, it's there for a reason. ]

( It just means I have intensive military style training, but didn't work for any government. Was raised in a school run by this alien bitch, she was training us to take over the world, blah blah blah, she's dead now, I killed her. )

[ Again, this is all very serious and emotional to her, and yet she just spills it without care. A nonchalance she can't actually maintain when people start inquiring further. At which point she deflects, cusses more, runs away. She's like clockwork. ]

( I hate the Station too. Fuckin' stifling. It's so goddamn boring and white. I just ending up running laps and fucking or fighting anyone who will have me just to not lose my fucking mind. )

[ This a troubled beeb. ]

[ What she spills is loaded with emotion, yet still vague in it's delivery. It's all he can do to listen, consider, and respond with empathy - but not with a bleeding heart. She doesn't seem to need that. ]

(Perhaps we should speak with the more senior hosts for a possible vacation, if you think that might do you some good. Might do everyone here some good...)

[ It's more advice, more solution seeking. But he knows better - knows that sometimes what others want aren't solutions to their past and problems. ]

(Or if that's even less appealing, I'm here if you'd just rather... talk sometime. I'm afraid running laps and fucking and fighting aren't very high up on my skill set, but I am a very good listener.)

[ She can't help it, she busts out laughing all of a sudden. Vacation? She's never been on a vacation in her life, it was a word she used derisively to denote any time when she wasn't expected to be all the way on-- ready to stalk, ready to fight, ready to kill. ]

( We get downtime and that's it, don't expect anything better or you're just gonna be fuckin' disappointed, not-elf. )

[ The laughter helps, it releases the emotions so they aren't just jangling under her skin. ]

( Please don't tell me you're fucking celibate too, that'd be just too much of a downer. )

(I suppose that was too far-fetched to hope for...)

[ He takes the laughter in stride, glad he could at least do that for her even if it wasn't intentional. And then it's his turn to laugh- ]

(Oh heavens no! It has been a while, but no.)

[ Even the priests he'd been living with the last half-decade weren't that strict with their natures. ]

( So I might have a chance after all. )

[ She's teasing. She is just recklessly promiscuous but not quite that badly. ]

[ His mental laughter grows louder, the feeling of wiping away a single tear of mirth accompanying it. ]

(Oh dear, I'm certain you can do better than this old dog, but I'm flattered.)

( How old is old, though? I got nothing against old. It's the young ones I'm not gonna touch. )

(I'll be one-hundred in a matter of months.)

( That'd be a cool notch in my belt. )

[ That gives him cautious pause, though he's clearly amused at the same time. He seems to need just a little more than she does before he's fully open to the idea. ]

(We'll have to discuss this again, if and when I'm more than a notch. Besides, I still have a little time before I've reached a full century.)

[ Till then, that's less bragging rights for her. ]

[ She's already made that mistake, picking up other hosts just for the fuck of it and finding out she'd actually be stuck with them later. She and Nyx may or may not have had a shouting match about it until she apologized for calling him a fuckboy... ]

( I think I'm just gonna stop counting out here. The fuck does it matter how old I am in space hanging out with aliens. They sure don't care. )

(Probably a good idea. Although... I don't know, one-hundred is supposed to be special. I probably won't notice it go by, but I'm sure whenever that is I'll have had more time to know you.)

[ And decide if he wants to get down or not. If anything, his mind feels positive about the possibility so far. ]

( What, you want me to throw you a party? Maybe do the chicken dance. )

[ Since there would be no actual 'partying'. ]

( String you up with condoms and push you out the door on some spaceport? )

[ That sounds entertaining. ]

(I-)

[ She had him laughing before, but this sends him into a fit he needs minutes to recover from. He almost loses the connection and has to find a pillow to muffle himself with. ]

(I barely know half of what you're talking about, but yes! Yes, why not? If I remember the day at all, you're in charge of festivities.)

[ She likes when people are willing to play along with her, to understand that ridiculousness had its place in the world. Since she was pretty much that. Ridiculous. Some strange cosmic accident dressed in human rags. ]

( Perfect, plays to my strengths. )

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Hello, it's me

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