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thisavrou_log2017-11-03 09:00 pm
tinkerhell) wrote in thisavrou_log2017-11-03 09:00 pm
(open)
Who: Reaper and YOU
When: End of October
Where: See prompts
What: Catch all for miniplot (and possibly beyond)
Warnings: None...yet
ooc: feel free to wildcard, or plurk/pm if you want to do something different
[He'd never been much of a music man. There was always too much to do, not enough time to discover and search. His soundtrack of choice hadn't changed much since he was a young man, and it didn't do much for him these days anyway. That said, having new and unfamiliar mixes of music available was doing wonders for his focus.
Recent goings on had made it difficult to concentrate in complete silence -- his mind would wander to things he could have done differently, things he might have forgotten, maybe a twitching in a muscle that he couldn't consciously stop. He was going crazy, crazier than he already was, just sitting still.
He'd been given a lot to think about recently.
At any time of the day, Reaper can be found sitting with a datapad, a croissant in some various state of consumption, and a nearly full glass of some kind of alcohol. The old TAB sits uselessly on the table beside the datapad, half dissected with most of its parts still in tact in spite of the fact that its guts have been pulled from its shell.
He doesn't look up when there are footsteps until they cross some invisible line, and then he pauses exactly what he's doing to look up and stare silently, waiting for some sort of introduction. If the person doesn't take the silence, Reaper will speak up himself:]
Enjoying the scenery switch? Not like we've been here for more than a few days. Probably. Who can tell when you're in space?
When: End of October
Where: See prompts
What: Catch all for miniplot (and possibly beyond)
Warnings: None...yet
ooc: feel free to wildcard, or plurk/pm if you want to do something different
[He'd never been much of a music man. There was always too much to do, not enough time to discover and search. His soundtrack of choice hadn't changed much since he was a young man, and it didn't do much for him these days anyway. That said, having new and unfamiliar mixes of music available was doing wonders for his focus.
Recent goings on had made it difficult to concentrate in complete silence -- his mind would wander to things he could have done differently, things he might have forgotten, maybe a twitching in a muscle that he couldn't consciously stop. He was going crazy, crazier than he already was, just sitting still.
He'd been given a lot to think about recently.
At any time of the day, Reaper can be found sitting with a datapad, a croissant in some various state of consumption, and a nearly full glass of some kind of alcohol. The old TAB sits uselessly on the table beside the datapad, half dissected with most of its parts still in tact in spite of the fact that its guts have been pulled from its shell.
He doesn't look up when there are footsteps until they cross some invisible line, and then he pauses exactly what he's doing to look up and stare silently, waiting for some sort of introduction. If the person doesn't take the silence, Reaper will speak up himself:]
Enjoying the scenery switch? Not like we've been here for more than a few days. Probably. Who can tell when you're in space?
no subject
[He's not afraid to admit that much. There was hardly any work to start with, let alone work that allowed him to flex his muscles.]
I think the same can be said for a lot of people here.
no subject
Within reason of course. He's hardly going to press for details when he certainly unwilling to share them as well. He turns slightly in his seat and stretches his legs out to the side, thinking quietly for a moment. ]
It seems strange to me, in a situation where the doesn't appear to be any sort of ... law. Is there any apparatus in place to enforce social norms, should somebody violate them? Banishment would seem to be the most logical punishment for extreme antisocial behavior. But for less severe transgressions, that is a bit murkier.
no subject
[There had been, down on the surface world before they showed up here.]
Lot of 'hero' types. Morally demanding sorts.
[Literally: They had Lena Oxton walking their halls.]
Up until you do something they don't agree with.
no subject
Morally demanding "hero" types tend to be terribly impractical, in my experience. And prefer to ignore inconvenient realities of the situation in order to avoid abandoning their lovely ideals. And of course, those delightful ideals and impracticalities are far more appealing to the undecided and so one is left feeling much like the mythical Cassandra, warning of impending doom that nobody else wants to acknowledge.
[ He taps his finger on his glass idly, debating whether he should have another drink. ]
no subject
Slowly, he nods.]
Doesn’t much matter anyway. Nothing to gain up here from it. Not yet.
no subject
I don't often plan to ... argue so vehemently against the status quo. However, my point of view is not shared by many and so I find myself in such situations with unfortunate frequency. It is good to know what sort of backlash I may face for such arguments.
no subject
[Of course, no high ranking Talon operative was just a mercenary, but there was nothing to be gained from sharing that information here. Not when Overwatch was so prevalent, and joined by other self righteous sorts. He would be begging for trouble.]
Not a fan of social politics. Too much talking, not enough action.
no subject
[ Reaper is more than a simple mercenary, of course, but sometimes one is forced to speak in half-truths and shorthand simply because the truth is such an involved affair.
He shakes his head in exasperation at Reaper's next comment. ]
It's utterly pointless talking. I have told others exactly what I intend to do, and why, and tell them why whatever arguments they have to dissuade me are irrelevant. And yet, when I actually do exactly what I told them I am going to do, they are surprised! It certainly doesn't give one much faith in their ability to resolve anything with words. [ He huffs. ]
no subject
[Reaper doesn’t mind the cut of Erik’s jib. But then, if Widowmaker had her sights on him, he couldn’t have been that bad. Her tolerance for wasted time was even less than his own. So he spreads his hands thoughtfully.]
I am sure someone has use for our talents. We just haven’t found them yet.
no subject
As for me, my plan is to be agreeable enough to accrue some favors and favorable impressions until such a time as my opinions inevitably diverge from those who are more in favor of self-righteousness than self-preservation. With any luck, I'll find some sensible allies in the process.
FORGIVE ME november has been insane
Seems to be working well enough so far.
[Reaper isn't exactly sensible, but he doesn't have the self-awareness for that.]
It's ok life has a way of happening to the best of us
When the time comes, perhaps I will have some allies. Unfortunately, for now duty calls. Oh, if you find any scrap metal, please let me know. I might be able to make something useful out of it.
[ He gestures to the scattered bits of what used to be Reaper's communication devices. ]
It was pleasant talking with you, Reaper.