Cúrre (
hownkai) wrote in
thisavrou_log2016-09-19 04:07 pm
Entry tags:
- *event,
- all about j: j,
- danger days killjoys: the girl,
- death note: l (crau),
- mass effect: commander shepard,
- mcu: james buchanan barnes,
- metal gear: kazuhira miller,
- metal gear: venom snake,
- original character: andyr prince,
- overwatch: angela "mercy" ziegler,
- overwatch: lúcio,
- overwatch: reinhardt wilhelm,
- red vs blue: agent texas,
- star wars: rey,
- transformers idw: ultra magnus,
- transformers mtmte: riptide,
- transformers robots in disguise: sideswi,
- tron: rinzler (crau),
- undertale: mettaton,
- x-men movies: jean grey,
- x-men movies: peter maximoff
( september event log )
Who: Everyone
When: September 19th and on
Where: The Fixed Moons of the Runoff and the Moira.
What: Everything comes to a head.
Warnings: Nothing for now. Please label your content!
When: September 19th and on
Where: The Fixed Moons of the Runoff and the Moira.
What: Everything comes to a head.
Warnings: Nothing for now. Please label your content!
E V E N T L O G |
"Never be the first to arrive or the last to go, and never, ever be both."
|

no subject
[Miller didn't want to get roped in. He'd fought tooth and nail against it, but like everyone else, the freedom from worry was as intoxicating as the drinks. Luckily, enough shards of his paranoia showed through when Drake had posted. He wanted them to be proven fine.]
Ah. Shepard. [He says as she gets closer, and puts on a friendly smile of the like she'll probably not see again for a very long time.] Thane and I talked about you for a little bit. All good, I promise you.
[Miller didn't see that her dancing was as bad as his own singing. He doesn't protest as the drink is offered.]
no subject
She fills Miller's cup up, not overflowing, but comfortably full. Lifting her own glass, she offers a toast:]
To good times, and good friends.
no subject
[Even blissfully minded, he loves to talk shop. And he still raises his glass and takes a sip of his new drink.]
It's good to have seen your dancing compares to my singing. [He teases warmly, with good intentions.]
no subject
[She sips her own drink (water) politely, and smiles encouragingly at Miller — until he mentions her dancing. Her expression contorts into something akin to a person finding their high school chatroom logs.] That good, huh?
no subject
[Has it really been that long since he sang that song? Damn.]
No harm in collecting useful intel, though. We used mobile stations separate from our own bases for that sort of thing. Constantly on the move. [He is still paranoid enough that he doesn't say that it's a whaling ship. But the tactics are definitely worth sharing, even if it's more difficult to create collection locations on a ship like this.] The raw data then sent to us.
[His brow furrows a little as he takes another drink. Like he's wondering if he got a bad sip or something.]
no subject
[She takes another drink before continuing, looking over her glass at Miller inspecting his.]
Intel collection never stops. Hell, what if we're all suddenly sucked back through the Ingress, and some of us remember what happened? Keeping that kind of information kicking around in your head is going to be useful, no matter where you end up.
no subject
[A lot of bad, mostly. A lot of guilt, so he can take care of that. Funny, it feels like he's not been thinking about that. So he shifts back, thinking about that old acoustic relic.]
My guitar is much better than my singing. I think that was the worst part of having lost my arm. Getting one that allowed me to play it again...
[Still, the look lingers. And this is the first bad drink he's had since coming in here.]
no subject
On the other hand, he's still looking at his drink intently. The antidote had to be taking effect.]
Everything okay?
no subject
[He stares out for half a second, concerned abruptly with a few things he'd been saying that weren't about work, and then looks back down.]
No, I have prosthetics. Two of them. Fake arm. Fake leg. Lost them both in combat.
[He pulls off his right glove with his teeth so he doesn't have to put down his wine. The hand he reveals is half transparent, the arm itself he got aboard the ship.] It's meant to replicate and mirror my left hand. [He's starting to feel the throb of those phantom pains. Right down to the bone.]
no subject
I'm sorry to hear it. Does it cause you any trouble? [Because if it does, she hasn't seen it — he's on top of everything.]
no subject
[He rolls his shoulder, the one that's capped by the start of his prosthetic that covers a stumped arm. Truth is it's starting to hurt a little more. Maybe it's less that it's hurting more, and more that he's paying attention.]
[The next drink of wine is met with a sort of unhappy look, and he sets it down to rub above it like he has to loosen a kink there.]
It took a lot to convince me to even get limb replacements. [Followed by a grunt. Whatever spell he's been under, it's obviously starting to wear off. And the real world is dragging him violently back.]
no subject
Talk to me — how are you feeling? How can I help?
no subject
[God, and he feels a little sick, like he ate something too sweet.]
There's something wrong.
[He can vaguely remember Nate saying there was something wrong. He'd hoped that it wasn't true, desperately hoped. He was cautious enough to ask him to take some samples of local things, but he wanted it proven things were alright.] Hell... he was right, wasn't he?
no subject
He was.
If you're feeling pain, or sick, or any other symptoms, it's a part of the drug's effects slowly being cancelled out. I'm sorry I wasn't completely honest, but I'm willing to bet your free will is worth it to you.
no subject
[The question is a breathy grunt, but only mildly angry. More disappointment. Ah, yes. Of course this couldn't be genuine. Of course.]
[His free will had almost been easy to give up, just for happiness. He still should be careful of that.]
no subject
[As she speaks, she pulls a chair over, proffering it to Miller.]
You, and everyone else. Nate and I were just lucky to be pulled out of it early.
no subject
Fine.
[The tone is just exhausted, angry, dark, and he pushes past to head for the dressing area.] I want my uniform and my beret. [He's going to get out of this laughable clown costume. He needs his skin, his military self. He needs that strength.]
Do you know where they're keeping our old clothes? [The beret is important. The coat. He just can't get something new.]
no subject
[Shepard watches Kaz as he stumbles past, keeping a careful eye on his movement. Others had fainted, or stood up too fast and vomited from the shock. Military or no, there was no way to predict the effect it would have on everyone.]
no subject
[He didn't want this back. But hell if he'd just let someone have him.]
[It takes him a few good minutes, because he tries entirely too hard to make himself presentable by his own standards and his own preferences. He won't come out in a slouchy uniform. Or he does his best not to. The effort is obvious as he comes back out, unsteady still, but determined, and holds out gloved hands.]
If you have more of that, let me help give it out. [It's the only revenge he can take.]
no subject
His request gives her pause, but only for a bare moment. She nods once, and unloops one of the larger tanks off her shoulder, passing it over to him.]
Make sure you grab some clean glasses, or wash out some used ones.
Let me know if you need any more. [GIVE EM HELL]