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thisavrou_log2016-06-02 02:55 am
beautifulspaceraptor) wrote in thisavrou_log2016-06-02 02:55 am
[Open]
Who: Nihlus Kryik and you!!!
When: Pretty much whenever.
Where: Around the Moira!
What: Weird napping locations and sparring?
Warnings: Sparring??
Lord of Powernapping
Normally, you wouldn’t catch Nihlus dead sleeping. Not even Eric or Tyler have probably ever seen Nihlus really sleeping. Staying up with the blanket draped over him like some demented, huge bird and the glow of his omni-tool lighting the fabric up underneath, yes. Actual sleeping though?
Rare.
And yet, if you walked into the Cargo bay sometime this week, there’ll be a figure curled up against the side of the nearly finished fabricator with schematics laid out around his head like a bizarre halo. Or you’ll find Nihlus down one of the endless hallways, in a dark corner and leaning oddly against the wall with a broom held loosely against his chest (he’s not in Cleaning anymore, and yet). If one ever wanders into the engine room, there’s someone holed up under the pipes, tools scattered about him, but there’s no sound of things being tinkered with.
If one gets near enough, they could almost hear the very soft ‘chrrrchrrrchrr’s.
He’s not in as deep a slumber as he might seem, though.
Training Room
The ship is pretty much dead quiet. It’s a few days after the new arrivals and everyone was down on the Collectives.
It’s strange, but Nihlus found the silence peaceful for once. He finishes repairing that airlock, finalizes the repairs on some of the Scraplet damage and goes down to fiddle with the fabricator some more.
He’d debated going down for a supply run, but… that could wait a while more. They’d gotten a lot necessities through the Amissis-R and the Moira was going to be docked for a while yet from the looks of things.
So, for the first time in a while, Nihlus takes to the Sim room.
For anyone who walks in, they enter a room with tall, sloped ceilings and pale walls contrasted with warm tone lighting. The floor is lined with panels of what almost looked like nacre, the strange, iridescent material warm under barefoot. Wide windows streamed alien sunlight into the space, but if one tried looking out, they’d only be greeted by the vaguest outline of a silvery city through the brightness.
In the center of the room, Nihlus is decked out in his thermals and currently going through some sparring warm-ups with what looked like a red turian VI.
If you want to duke it out with a Spectre agent, now might your chance!
Wildcard!
((OOC: Ping me at![[plurk.com profile]](https://plurk.com/favicon.ico)
zapperkat if you want to discuss a scene or have any questions!))
When: Pretty much whenever.
Where: Around the Moira!
What: Weird napping locations and sparring?
Warnings: Sparring??
Lord of Powernapping
Normally, you wouldn’t catch Nihlus dead sleeping. Not even Eric or Tyler have probably ever seen Nihlus really sleeping. Staying up with the blanket draped over him like some demented, huge bird and the glow of his omni-tool lighting the fabric up underneath, yes. Actual sleeping though?
Rare.
And yet, if you walked into the Cargo bay sometime this week, there’ll be a figure curled up against the side of the nearly finished fabricator with schematics laid out around his head like a bizarre halo. Or you’ll find Nihlus down one of the endless hallways, in a dark corner and leaning oddly against the wall with a broom held loosely against his chest (he’s not in Cleaning anymore, and yet). If one ever wanders into the engine room, there’s someone holed up under the pipes, tools scattered about him, but there’s no sound of things being tinkered with.
If one gets near enough, they could almost hear the very soft ‘chrrrchrrrchrr’s.
He’s not in as deep a slumber as he might seem, though.
Training Room
The ship is pretty much dead quiet. It’s a few days after the new arrivals and everyone was down on the Collectives.
It’s strange, but Nihlus found the silence peaceful for once. He finishes repairing that airlock, finalizes the repairs on some of the Scraplet damage and goes down to fiddle with the fabricator some more.
He’d debated going down for a supply run, but… that could wait a while more. They’d gotten a lot necessities through the Amissis-R and the Moira was going to be docked for a while yet from the looks of things.
So, for the first time in a while, Nihlus takes to the Sim room.
For anyone who walks in, they enter a room with tall, sloped ceilings and pale walls contrasted with warm tone lighting. The floor is lined with panels of what almost looked like nacre, the strange, iridescent material warm under barefoot. Wide windows streamed alien sunlight into the space, but if one tried looking out, they’d only be greeted by the vaguest outline of a silvery city through the brightness.
In the center of the room, Nihlus is decked out in his thermals and currently going through some sparring warm-ups with what looked like a red turian VI.
If you want to duke it out with a Spectre agent, now might your chance!
Wildcard!
((OOC: Ping me at
Training Room?
Cleaning up after a shift and changing into a simple thermal, he began to explore some parts of the ship, which up until this point, had not been priorities. Particularly he was looking for the exact place Nihlus had set himself up; a training room or at least a gym.
He entered the room by mistake, either unable to tell or missing any indicator that it was already occupied. Adrien was a fairly unimposing figure of squishy humanity, about the only thing even mildly remarkable about him was the space cat tracking along at his heels.
Stepping through the door it became quickly apparent that he'd walked in on someone and Adrien's perpetual frown deepened. ]
Shit. I didn't realize this room was taken. [ There was a brief pause and then someone remembered his manners. ] Sorry.
no subject
It's alright. [He gives the man an odd, alien smile, mandibles quirking and eyes slanting warmly.]
You can stay if you'd like. I can call up a partner for you as well?
[He catches sight of the cat and adds,] And for your friend? [There had been a sentient cat onboard not too long ago, after all.]
no subject
He and I usually train together. [ He explained, eyes back to Nihlus. ]
Do you not train against humans? [ Though perhaps direct, the question isn't intended to be rude. He understood that some species wouldn't. Humans were a tad squishy after all. ]
I personally like to train against living partners, rather than VI or AI, no matter how well programmed. There's a creativity missing from an AI that often crops up in actual fighting.
no subject
[And friends.
Nihlus takes the break to rewrap the fabric that blunted his claws, watching Adrien and his companion with an air of quiet curiosity.]
Why specifically humans?
[That seems like an odd thing to ask. His training VI could be Asari or Vorcha or even Hanar if he really wanted.]
no subject
[ As for the question, Adrien glanced around and gave a small shrug. ]
I know there can be a bias against sparring against humans, particularly when we are at a significant disadvantage against other species.
Personally, I'd have rather seen about engaging in a direct bout, [ he motioned between Nihlus and himself ] since we're both here. But if there interest is not mutual, I won't waste any more of your time.
no subject
Have you sparred against other species?
[It's not refusal, though, and the Turian is giving Adrien an expectant look as the VI flickers away into nothingness.]
no subject
Before I was here, on the Moira the ship I served on had a great many different species as well as humans with significantly enhanced powers and as a crew we were usually fighting against odds that stacked against even our strongest species and super powered individuals.
[ Adrien held his hands out to his sides in a hapless gesture. ] I am what could best be termed, baseline humanoid.
It was only responsible of me to take what opportunities I could find to spar against other species and stronger crew members in order to develop resourcefulness to help offset what I lack in physical attributes.
[ Lowering his hands, he folded them behind himself in the small of his back, adopting the human military stance of parade rest. ]
I spar hard and with purpose, but I spar to learn.
[ And when that often resulted in his getting his ass kicked? Well, he bounced pretty well. ]
no subject
Well, I won't say no to a sparring partner.
[After throwing down with Saren for so long, it was hard to really push himself with a VI. He's not sure what to expect with this fellow, but it'll fun to learn.]
Would you like some protective gear? Fauld plating?
[He's kicked unarmored humans between the legs enough times to know the results weren't going to be pretty.]
no subject
In my experience, if you connect squarely between my legs, particularly with one of those spurs, having a cup on isn't really going to make much of a difference.
[ Pitcher, stone principal.
However, he looked pleased that his offer for a spar was being taken up and he turned slightly to send Courser off to a corner of the room with a firm command for the bahari to stay put. ]
I should probably wear head gear though. Do I ...? [ He motioned to the room, indicating if he should request it from the computer or if there was somewhere he should go to pick up gear. ]
Heckkk, I am so sorry for the lateness!
[Not that Turian spurs were particularly good for that. They weren't really good for much of anything, really, other than looking nice and being in the way of every single piece of clothing ever made.
Nihlus calls up an in-session interface, the screen appearing as an orange square in front of his face. He types in a few quick commands and a rack of human protective gear appears on Adrien's side of the room.]
There we go. Mind you, all I know is the standard sparring gear for the Terran forces in my universe.
[Hopefully nothing too unfamiliar for the guy though.]
no subject
Lateness is no problem, so often I am running at the speed of snail myself. But given all the chaos going on right now with the events, should we let this thread go?
Adrien would have put up a fight that was admirable for a human, suggested an extremely advanced level of military training and also some familiarity with Turian fighting tactics but ultimately Nihlus would be able to mop the floor with him. ;)
If that's okay with you? And maybe we can catch a new thread if you'd be up for it. ]
no subject
Nihlus would have definitely been holding back in regards to the fight. He doesn't like anyone getting a full read on his fighting abilities. :v
And a new thread sometime would be lovely! ]
Powernaps are where it's at
If he's working that hard that he can't stay awake then maybe he just needs some help. Odd searches for a broom, finds one close by, and as quietly as he can, begins to sweep the hallway around his fellow crew mate.
Odd hopes he doesn't wake Nihlus up, but if he does, he'll just keep on cleaning. It's soothing in a way, the monotonous swiping of stiff plastic brushing the floor over and over. He's also helping, in a creepy, don't catch me helping kind of way.
no subject
For the longest of moments, Nihlus doesn't say anything, half lidded green eyes tracking the young man's back as he sweeps the hallway. Eventually he smiles quietly to himself, touched and a little confused.
"Alright, I'm awake," he announces, pushing off the wall and making a show of stretching and stifling a yawn (a full yawn was probably too many teeth for a human stranger).
"What year is it? Who's the Primarch?"
no subject
"2013 and some guy named Jim."
Yeah, he's just making it up, but the other probably knows that. Odd was used to seeing things that nobody else could, things that didn't look like the people around him, but this guy was nowhere near as disorienting as the bodachs were, so the teeth get noted and pushed aside.
"I'm Odd. Odd Thomas."
no subject
"I'm Nihlus," he offers, still chuckling a little as he holds a hand out for a shake. "I work down in Engineering. You look pretty new."
No one Nihlus has seen around or on the Network anyways. He thinks he'd remember a name like Odd Thomas.
no subject
"Nice to meet you, Nihlus. I am pretty new. Fresh out of that big machine and ready for sci-fi, futuristic living."
He shrugs, grinning as he steps back again.
"They put me in the kitchens, but I like it down there, so no complaints from me."
no subject
And by 'wild' he means they gripe endlessly about getting the weird, lumpy looking meat loaf and gravy again. Then he laughs at them, eats his own weird, flavorless meat thing and pointedly tells them to be grateful because he didn't even have snacks or anything available to him here.
Such was the dextro life on a levo ship.
"So, how's the Moira treating you so far? Is this sci-fi, futuristic living anything like you imagined?"
wildcard; bc roomies yes
There's no one else around when he shows up, so Dave dumps his shit into the emptiest looking corner. He starts to pull open drawers on the corresponding dresser, just for something to do with his hands, until he gets distracted halfway through by the egg beds.
"Man, so I can't complain about having a room again. As such, this is not gonna turn into complaining, but rather confused ponderings happening out loud, so... What are these eggy-looking things supposed to accomplish. I get that they're supposed to be beds; I'm not fucking blind, I see the mattress there and that shit is self-explanatory, yo. But the glowing LEDs are a little much. Just like the eggshell. I dunno if I wanna hatch from a glowing egg bed every morning, if morning even has a meaning in space. My internal clock is gonna remain burgled worse than a bank in a bad part of town. Not that my sleep schedule was ever great in the first place, but it'd be nice if my shuteye could be a little more cooperative..."
And so on. Chances are Nihlus is gonna find a dumb kid with his head stuck inside one of the aforementioned beds, mumbling to himself.
no subject
... So far.
Nihlus listens to the stream of words coming from his new roommate with some amusement, shuffling his freshly washed clothes in his arms.
"So, you must be Dave Strider," he says by way of greeting.
no subject
(This one also raps to himself.)
Dave has wandered thoroughly into his egg-bed bubble thoughts and is not expecting anyone to walk in on him mid-mumble. He starts and cracks his head on the edge of the bed opening.
"Fuck!"
Oh my god. At least he gets himself turned around proper, even if he does look like he's half ready to vault straight over the other side of the bed.
"Uh." There is definitely a Moment where his brain interprets Nihlus's face as some kind of skeletal death mask. In an amazing display of restraint, he doesn't say this aloud. But it's a close thing. "Yeah, hey, man. That's definitely my name. What's up. The stripes are pretty killer."
...Ok, well he tried.
no subject
"Goddess," Nihlus utters. "Are you okay?"
His immediate instinct is to run over and make sure the kid didn't concuss himself, but he's also pretty used to scaring the crap out of humans when he tries to do that, so... yeah. He's kind of standing awkward at the door, blinking owlishly at Dave.
"And, ah, thank you?" the Turian manages belatedly when he realizes that 'stripes' was referring to his face paint.
no subject
"I'm good. It's cool, don't worry about it."
It smarts like hell, but he's poker-facing his way through it. Not only because he's a little red from embarrassment, but because he's not sure if there's something he should be doing here. Clearly that's his cue to start rambling nervously.
"But yeah, it's very—" alarming? intimidating? shit, no, that's not gonna work "—metal." Good job, Dave. "KISS hasn't got anything on your shit. You might not even need a wig or skin-tight catsuit, if glam metal were a career you wanted to pursue. Everyone would be persuaded by virtue of your face instead."
no subject
One of Nihlus' mandibles slowly slant up and he glances around the room as if he'd somehow find answers to the... everything that'd just come out of the kid's mouth.
Of course, he finds nothing and he turns back to Dave as he gingerly sets his clothes down on his bed.
"We should try checking for a concussion," he offers carefully. "You sound a bit confused."
There's a good chance he'd just scared the crap out of the kid and this was just nervous babbling instead of some kind of serious injury, but, well. Nihlus was nothing if not a bit of a hen, and he's not sure how fragile human teens are.
no subject
He doesn't seem to realize this might be the opposite of reassuring.
"It's practically an immutable part of my being. If I don't say at least one confusing and/or embarrassing thing in a conversation, then I probably got abducted and replaced by a pod person."
no subject
And he says this as someone who'd apparently been shot in the head, so you know, speaking from personal experience here.
"I'm Nihlus by the way," he offers on a lighter note, eyes slanting in a smile. "I work in engineering. I'm usually wrapped up in some kind of project, so if you need anything and I'm not here, just ping on the Network."
no subject
Aside from the odd debug, he has very little work to do, and the extensive walkway system is a walkway system, absent surfaces intended for a drive. He could leverage the impressive bulkhead structure, but driving up walls for the hell of it is a little too pointed, even for his taste.
So when the simulation room is not just occupied, but occupied by [organic: unknown; multiple signatures? inconclusive] what quickly resolve as fighting partners, maybe teammates, well.
"They really ought to put an Occupied signal on the door." Not an apology, not really an offer to leave, body language just this side of belligerent though he watches with clear and intense interest.
Sharp and sudden shrug. "I mean, I can go."
no subject
Well.
This wasn't a turn he'd been expecting the day to take.
After a moment, he chuffs and casts the Admin a smile as he straightens up, taking the break to stretch his arms out. Next to him, the VI flickers and resets into standby position.
"This is a public space," Nihlus says, voice as warm as the artificial sunlight that backlit his dark frame. "And I don't particularly mind. You looking to watch?"
Considering the obviously aggressive edge to the admin's posture, he's going with a probable 'no'. The fact that Clu telegraphed his mood and intentions as obviously as Rinzler did was interesting, though.
the fishing expedition before the storm;
So he grins back, still sharp with the push to act already, but the guy seems friendly enough.
Interesting proportions, hidden length at the base. Is he waiting on his toes, or does he stand that way? Not enough data for gait analysis, and 'human' ratios on the Grid can be variable and specialized by function.
His facial geometry is unique--[armor modification? skin modification? inconclusive] and Clu nods appreciatively, for the words and the data.
"Thanks," and with the courtesy, the floodgates are open: "But no. It's too quiet here, and--Say, do you mind a participant?" [Pause.] "Is it your city?"
With an arm to the ghosts of silver civilizations buried in the mists of the not-windows. They describe a fascinating pattern.
Subtle? Never. Calculated? Oh, yes.
its sure is nice weather for a day of pretending not to be enemies
As he smooths down the cloth strips that blunt his claws, Nihlus casts a glance out the window before looking back to Clu, chuffing a little laugh. It made sense that someone completely unfamiliar with the political layout of his world could mistake Cipritine for his city, but it still struck him as being hilariously ironic.
"Oh no, it's one of my friend's cities," he explains, amusement and something just a little somber lining the different layers of his voice. Back onto the more immediate question though, his mandibles slant up, head inclined playfully.
"I honestly wouldn't complain." There's invitation in his tones now, almost flirty with the way his eyes follow the trails of glowing circuitry up Clu's body in assessment. "Sure sounds like you ran out of things to do. What job did they pair you up with on beautiful ship?"
He knows already after the talk with BB, but finding out more with small talk never hurt.
oh, yeah, great weather and lots of it
He grins for the laugh, filing away the expression and the ease of movement, making a point of not openly watching Nihlus’ hands. He’s not a stranger to specialized configurations, and it’s probably not polite to stare.
He blinks and nods, however, for the frisson of separate layers in his words--not in just in Nihlus’ tone, but literally in his voice. Multifrequency output?
Can he sense pings? Maybe he can hear them, and hypotheses want testing, don’t they.
“We are a long way from home,” he offers, with a pop of commiseration on the last word, in the lowest tone he’d detected.
Most organics don’t like overt mimicry, but if there’s a courtesy there, or something, it’s worth trying to use it. Everyone likes flattery.
...Himself included, planting his feet more broadly for that assessing glance with a shrug. His eyes are up here, but who cares?
“I’m game if you are.” There are teeth in it, but only from excitement--something to do, practical and active. “Ah!” They’re not introduced--is this a fault in his own protocol? “I am Clu. MID technician, currently.”
He is not above flirting back. “I can also run modifications for it, if you’re interested.”
no subject
And there's Clu's little ping-back note, sent under a low, lilting purr as Nihlus moves, circling closer in slow, easy strides. Oh, he's game, alright.
"I'm Nihlus," the Turian offers back, never taking those curious green eyes off of the admin as he tucks the final stray piece of cloth into a fold near his knuckles. "I work down in Engineering. If your boots ever needs rockets, you can probably contact me about it."
The almost predatory fluidity of his movements were an odd contrast to the light mischief that laced his words. What, Nihlus wonders, would be potential, exploitable weak point on programs? Their circuitry, perhaps? Or would they share some of those weaknesses with their human creators?
About half a meter away to Clu's left, he slows to a stop, talons clicking against the smooth flooring.
"So," Nihlus begins, taking a generic starting stance, shifting his weight evenly between his feet. "Is sparring a common activity where you come from?"
no subject
"Idle hands are prone to mischief." Slick and easy, one by one from the jawbone, covering visual assessment and a flicker of honest surprise for the returned ping, maybe even pleasure.
It's weirdly comforting, that at least one of them can hear.
"Nihlus," he tries it on. "I'll keep that in mind." The mechanical aptitude is filed away--though a cramped, overhot, and probably very loud engine room is manifestly not on Clu's list of favorite places.
For one thing, heat's bad for the circuits. He can feel it already, just a little, just in this room.
...There are talons in Nihlus' feet, too; that alters projections slightly as Clu raises his guard, both hands loose, close to his face.
"Depends." Casually, shifting on his feet, which looks a little like bouncing in place, to the unfamiliar. "Not like this. Weapons training, mostly."
It's a simple forward jab, crisp and almost conversational.
no subject
In contrast to the shifting, Nihlus is almost completely still. There's a liquid ease in his form though, steady and primed.
"Weapons training?"
Rinzler? he wonders in silence as Clu makes his move.
That jab is smoothly deflected with back of a dark, scaled fist. Nihlus' knuckles glide briefly over a yellow circuit line, a fleeting touch, testing- then his hand turns inwards to try and clamp over Clu's forearm, free hand coming up to grab the back of the elbow. Unless stopped, the Spectre will execute a quick, tidy little step-turn and gently send the admin shoulder-first into the floor.
"You mean with disks?" he asks, undertones thrumming, light and playful.
no subject
"Oh, yeah," warm, casual, the header for a nice list that shows off his phone-voice: "discs, stun staves, swords, when occasion warrants--"
The block is expected, swift and expert. The followup is not. Because that is a weakness, a soft and vital point, but probably not in the way Nihlus expects, a little frisson of electric feedback that twinges to his elbow. Scales? Scales are a new texture--
To grope him and then grab is out of bounds. Clu shakes that arm loose, firm and whiplash quick, clearing his throat, guard up.
"You asking me to dance?"
...Because that's not really what he was looking for, but it's also not a no.
no subject
Interesting.
"I've heard the Terran idiom 'let's dance' in regards to fighting, but-" Insert a shrug here, awkward and halting. "I get the impression that might we have somewhat different experiences with hand-to-hand sparring, here. I'm sorry if I, ah, startled you?"
Not really, but the Spectre is awful good at sounding sincere.
Mandible quirking in an apologetic smile, he adds, "I wouldn't say no to a dance though."
no subject
"Hah! Well, that too," lift of the eyebrow, toss of the head; no harm, no foul, it's all just good fun. "Stop me when I get too literal, huh? It's a thing we Programs do."
"I'm not hurt," full-body shrug. "You just...surprised me."
Well, hello, apologetic grin with fascinating external curvature--what is the purpose of this structure in nature, all planes and edges and sharp, predatory finish?
Meet the very best and most sincere boyish grin he stole from the grandad of all mischief-making layabouts. Is it real? Does that matter?
"You be careful;" it's a different harmonic, tinny in its electric too-precise mimicry, "or I'll just take you up on that someday."
He starts by lifting that arm; now, was it this way that he grabbed?
"Can you show me yours--I mean, what were you doing, before?"
Says the guy who has no idea he just volunteered to get thrown.
no subject
It'd probably have provoked an uncanny-valley reaction in an actual human, but the difference was just fascinating to someone on the outside of it. Nihlus' most powerful tool of his trade was being able to read people and the little peculiarities like these stood out, a strange little game of 'spot the differences'.
"I'll give you a little walk-through how about?" the Spectre offers, pausing a bit before moving closer again. "Might be a nice way to warm up to each other's moves. What do you think?"
In reach now, Nihlus stops and extends his own arm, but he doesn't touch just yet, waiting for Clu's response. Just to be doubly sure the guy'd be okay with how things were about to play out.
His palm hovers an appropriate finger's-width away from the inside of the admin's wrist and safely away from any glowing circuitry.