beautifulspaceraptor (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
beautifulspaceraptor) wrote in ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png)
thisavrou_log2016-11-12 05:12 pm
beautifulspaceraptor) wrote in thisavrou_log2016-11-12 05:12 pm
Entry tags:
Indoctrination Plot Part 2
Who: Everyone who wants in on this brainwashing/techno-zombie fun times!
When: In the wee hours of the morning, following this PSA, 12.11.2016.
Where: Around the Moira and in a room in the ILR
What: Mass Effect-style brainwashing/techno-zombie fun times!
Warnings: Brainwashing and potential body horror and techno-zombies! Now with more combat!
The crate is gone now. All of their hard work and finally, here they were, ready for the next stage.
In the center of the room, two glowing spires reach for the ceiling, painting everything around it in a gentle, sky blue light.
With the fruit of their efforts laid out around him, Nihlus finally lets himself rest, sitting on the floor before the Monolith, just… staring into the endless glow. Loses himself within it so completely that time slips past like a distant dream. His eyes are watery when he comes back to himself, after images burnt so deeply into the back of his eyes that he’s nearly blinded by it.
There’s a clawed hand on his shoulder, warm and heavy and so achingly familiar.
“Saren,” he murmurs softly, resting his head against his mentor’s forearm, voice cracked with exhaustion, subvocals bleeding with an old, poorly smothered grief.
“I’m so tired.” Closing his eyes, Nihlus turns and presses his brow plates against the black sleeve, trying desperately to suppress the broken notes in his undertones. “I’ve missed you so much. I’ve missed you both so much-”
Nihlus.
It’s a voice that’d pulled him back from the brink of death countless of times, cool and steady and utterly unshakeable. A lifeline when he’d been bleeding out, alone in the dark, stranded in the aftermaths of missions gone haywire.
You’ve still got a task to complete.
And just like that, the weight is gone.
Nihlus stays where he is for a little while longer, committing the warmth of that touch to memory.
Slowly pushing himself back to his feet, he slides his helmet on as orange shields flicker to life around the Monolith.
((OOC: Prommpts/starters are in the comments! If you have questions, ask them here!))
When: In the wee hours of the morning, following this PSA, 12.11.2016.
Where: Around the Moira and in a room in the ILR
What: Mass Effect-style brainwashing/techno-zombie fun times!
Warnings: Brainwashing and potential body horror and techno-zombies! Now with more combat!
The crate is gone now. All of their hard work and finally, here they were, ready for the next stage.
In the center of the room, two glowing spires reach for the ceiling, painting everything around it in a gentle, sky blue light.
With the fruit of their efforts laid out around him, Nihlus finally lets himself rest, sitting on the floor before the Monolith, just… staring into the endless glow. Loses himself within it so completely that time slips past like a distant dream. His eyes are watery when he comes back to himself, after images burnt so deeply into the back of his eyes that he’s nearly blinded by it.
There’s a clawed hand on his shoulder, warm and heavy and so achingly familiar.
“Saren,” he murmurs softly, resting his head against his mentor’s forearm, voice cracked with exhaustion, subvocals bleeding with an old, poorly smothered grief.
“I’m so tired.” Closing his eyes, Nihlus turns and presses his brow plates against the black sleeve, trying desperately to suppress the broken notes in his undertones. “I’ve missed you so much. I’ve missed you both so much-”
Nihlus.
It’s a voice that’d pulled him back from the brink of death countless of times, cool and steady and utterly unshakeable. A lifeline when he’d been bleeding out, alone in the dark, stranded in the aftermaths of missions gone haywire.
You’ve still got a task to complete.
And just like that, the weight is gone.
Nihlus stays where he is for a little while longer, committing the warmth of that touch to memory.
Slowly pushing himself back to his feet, he slides his helmet on as orange shields flicker to life around the Monolith.
((OOC: Prommpts/starters are in the comments! If you have questions, ask them here!))
no subject
"Move back."
One, two, three, four, five seconds pass, and then there's a sharp, sudden slice of orange, filling the air with a heady mixture of burnt, melted plastics and metals. A piece of severed door drops outwards — and the door itself, freed of the constraining weld that held it stolidly in place, zips open. There's a sharp intake of breath.
"Rinzler?"
The voice, shocked and worried, as well as the body it belongs to, is already moving towards him, gun slack at her side, slice of orange nowhere in sight.
no subject
Lights are dim and erratic, unsteady sparks still pricking from one circuit to the next. The glittering pieces trailed across the floor have more color, even if the heaps that used to be his legs have started to dull. Even past the weakness and the damage, the enforcer's bristling is impossible to miss, and as Shepard closes the gap, his ticking rattle scrapes up in a snarl.
Shock or worry (or pretense at both) aside... if the user tries to grab him, he'll break the reaching arm.
Holy shit im sorry about this 8|
Instead, she takes a moment, allowing herself to take in the scene, and the program's condition. Whoever had attacked had known what to expect, what to hit and disable. Legs gone, and communicative ability shut off, Rinzler light and color wasn't going to last a lot longer without intervention.
"Let me help you."
Not a problem!
He wants to break something. He doesn't trust her. He wants to fight, but she hasn't attacked, and that means (something) (nothing), and he doesn't have a choice.
She's not the one he has to kill.
The helmet twitches, flagging and unsteady. Help.