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
'Rinzler—'
No.
'Rinzler don't—'
He doesn't know that voice.
'—don't you dare!'
He doesn't know that voice, but he can track its position. He doesn't know that voice because he hasn't heard it. Because it didn't exist. Because he gutted the user it belonged to, because she woke up as damaged as he is, in one small, vital way.
She said they couldn't fix it. He'd tried, but she said—she—
The pitcher bounces off his shoulder. The hum of his disks flickers, lags, a fraction of a second's stall. He doesn't drop them because he has never dropped them, because Rinzler is a weapon and a tool and a tool has no value if it breaks (so many, many times). But he doesn't finish the kill either. He doesn't move. Not the weapons. Not his core. Nothing but the small, slow twitch of his helmet as it raises toward J.]
no subject
"J is a sensitive kid," had been doctor's diagnose when she had lost her voice all those years ago when her father died. That's it. She's sensitive --weak-- and there's nothing that anyone could do about it so better leave her alone, right? And even back then she had been the one to break through the mute spell.
"If you're really a girl it's not like you're going to need it, right!" The boys from orphanage had cornered her in the bathroom, waving pair of scissors in front of her while laughing and mocking at her state of disability along with her unusual appearance. It's a secret memory of a humiliation that once happened. It had been important lesson about the cruelty in the world and what had pushed her over the edge, teaching that if she were to survive she'll have to do it on her own. She needs to be strong because no one is going to hold her hand.
Just like now. She's not going to wait for someone step in and help.
Never again is Rinzler going to make her watch this sort of violence, a murder, silently from the side. Not when she can do something about it. She's not weak.
Her voice had broke out with such violent force, making her ears ring and eyes blurry from the white noise. But despite her shaken appearance her glare that she shoots at Rinzler is everything but hesitating. It's intense, defiant and unforgiving.]
Don't do it. [She speaks again, this time her voice is nowhere loud or stark as before. On the contrary her it's quiet and squeaky, like a broken glass.]
no subject
He wants to ask, but she wouldn't listen. She hadn't before.
Why would she?
She's a user.
She's a user. She has a voice. They're nothing alike.
They never were.
Spattered liquid drips down his mask, a thin, rose-tinted sheen obscuring vision. Disks hum in clean counterpoint. His sound rises, and it's harsh. Meaningless. He's choking on his own corruption, just like he was meant to from the start. The black shell encasing him falls, just a little. Lifting his head to meet her gaze is suddenly too much weight to bear.
Disks wink out without a word. Without even the slightest pretense at one. Hands clench rigidly around each inactive blade, enough to dig in (enough to hurt) (to feel). And Rinzler turns, the coiled grace of combat bleeding away. Head bowed. Frame hunched. Only the weapons locked in either fist break the default of subservience as he starts to walk.
They don't matter. He doesn't meet this user's gaze. He doesn't look back, either, not at the broken thing she came to help. He passes out of the circle and he doesn't stop.]