forwardmomentum (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
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thisavrou_log2015-10-05 09:54 pm
forwardmomentum) wrote in thisavrou_log2015-10-05 09:54 pm
[ catch-all for miles ]
Who: Miles and YOU
When: anywhere from the beginning of the month to..... eh (wobbles hand)
Where: the bar, sanitation, the vor cabin, WHEREVER YOU WANT
What: Miles being a miserable depressive sadsack and then getting better! Making amends for being a shit during the event! Teaching the new guy how to not break the septic system! Whatever your heart desires!
Warnings: TBA
The last couple of weeks have been disaster. Miles had been so caught up in the effects of the exuo and the eclipse that he'd lost control of himself more than once, instigating a few fights and severely paying for it afterward. The broken arm will heal fine, but the cracked ribs are going to be a pain for a little while yet. Not to mention the whole nearly being sacrificed in the name of bringing back a little sunlight. That? That he can live without.
But the worst thing about it was the knowledge that something -- something was messing with his brain, and he still doesn't fully understand what or why or even how. It'd made him lose himself, hit that edge dangerously close and slip right off it. In Miles' line of work, he can't afford that -- and he's not sure he can live without his line of work. It all gets very...tangled up sometimes.
He's exhausted, after it all winds down. The -- effect, whatever it was, it had him going so hard for so long that as soon as it wore off, Miles crashed hard. His post-mania funks are never pretty, but this one's especially black, made only worse by the stinging memory of some of the things he'd said. He can't get that much privacy in his cabin with Ivan and Gregor, but he tucks a sheet under Ivan's mattress to create a makeshift curtain and resolutely hole up as far in the corner as he can in a miserable little pile of Miles Naismith Vorkosigan.
It wears off after a few days, much to Ivan and Gregor's relief as well as his own. Once the black clouds have passed, though, Miles drags himself out of bed. Time to get back his forward momentum. Time to get back to work. He's got double duty, after all, at the bar and in sanitation, and last he checked, he's got a new guy to train. Hopefully the place is still running alright. Miles feels a bit bad about not being consistent about showing up for work, but now that he's determined to get his shit back together, he makes a project out of cleaning out the whole damn bar and rearranging it, and as for sanitation -- well, he'll make an action plan when he gets down there.
[ this is a catch-all, so feel free to tag in with whatever or request a starter if needed! ]
When: anywhere from the beginning of the month to..... eh (wobbles hand)
Where: the bar, sanitation, the vor cabin, WHEREVER YOU WANT
What: Miles being a miserable depressive sadsack and then getting better! Making amends for being a shit during the event! Teaching the new guy how to not break the septic system! Whatever your heart desires!
Warnings: TBA
The last couple of weeks have been disaster. Miles had been so caught up in the effects of the exuo and the eclipse that he'd lost control of himself more than once, instigating a few fights and severely paying for it afterward. The broken arm will heal fine, but the cracked ribs are going to be a pain for a little while yet. Not to mention the whole nearly being sacrificed in the name of bringing back a little sunlight. That? That he can live without.
But the worst thing about it was the knowledge that something -- something was messing with his brain, and he still doesn't fully understand what or why or even how. It'd made him lose himself, hit that edge dangerously close and slip right off it. In Miles' line of work, he can't afford that -- and he's not sure he can live without his line of work. It all gets very...tangled up sometimes.
He's exhausted, after it all winds down. The -- effect, whatever it was, it had him going so hard for so long that as soon as it wore off, Miles crashed hard. His post-mania funks are never pretty, but this one's especially black, made only worse by the stinging memory of some of the things he'd said. He can't get that much privacy in his cabin with Ivan and Gregor, but he tucks a sheet under Ivan's mattress to create a makeshift curtain and resolutely hole up as far in the corner as he can in a miserable little pile of Miles Naismith Vorkosigan.
It wears off after a few days, much to Ivan and Gregor's relief as well as his own. Once the black clouds have passed, though, Miles drags himself out of bed. Time to get back his forward momentum. Time to get back to work. He's got double duty, after all, at the bar and in sanitation, and last he checked, he's got a new guy to train. Hopefully the place is still running alright. Miles feels a bit bad about not being consistent about showing up for work, but now that he's determined to get his shit back together, he makes a project out of cleaning out the whole damn bar and rearranging it, and as for sanitation -- well, he'll make an action plan when he gets down there.
[ this is a catch-all, so feel free to tag in with whatever or request a starter if needed! ]
no subject
"Hm?" She looks at the bottle offered to her and-- "Aha! That's it." She takes the bottle and squints at it. "You know, I'm not sure it does look like a turian. Maybe someone just tried to get creative when they were making the sign."
Sweeping the dust off it, she squints at the label. "It's turian alcohol, I have no idea what any of this says. Just..." She holds the bottle up. "Don't give this to anybody else, OK?" Beat. "I mean, it's a health hazard, I'm not getting possessive over it."
no subject
"I swear I'll keep it under lock and key," Miles promises expansively, handing Tali a glass dropping back to a sitting position on the floor, his back to the shelf behind the bar. "So what does a turian look like?"
no subject
There's a clear fond note in her voice, and as she takes her mask off to put it down next to her, takes a glass from Miles with a murmured thanks, she's still smiling a little.
"Turians?" She pours herself a glass, lips pursing in thought. "They're...tall, dark and spiky?" She laughs a little; it's strangely hard to describe an alien species to another alien. "Some humans say they look like birds, even though they don't have wings or anything. They have digitigrade legs, like quarians..." She raises one leg so she can stretch it up and out, showing Miles the extra joint in her leg. "But they're much bigger, armoured... Streamlined, like a predator."
She takes a drink...and screws up her face violently, shaking her head like trying to throw off the taste.