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thisavrou_log2016-06-02 02:55 am
beautifulspaceraptor) wrote in thisavrou_log2016-06-02 02:55 am
[Open]
Who: Nihlus Kryik and you!!!
When: Pretty much whenever.
Where: Around the Moira!
What: Weird napping locations and sparring?
Warnings: Sparring??
Lord of Powernapping
Normally, you wouldn’t catch Nihlus dead sleeping. Not even Eric or Tyler have probably ever seen Nihlus really sleeping. Staying up with the blanket draped over him like some demented, huge bird and the glow of his omni-tool lighting the fabric up underneath, yes. Actual sleeping though?
Rare.
And yet, if you walked into the Cargo bay sometime this week, there’ll be a figure curled up against the side of the nearly finished fabricator with schematics laid out around his head like a bizarre halo. Or you’ll find Nihlus down one of the endless hallways, in a dark corner and leaning oddly against the wall with a broom held loosely against his chest (he’s not in Cleaning anymore, and yet). If one ever wanders into the engine room, there’s someone holed up under the pipes, tools scattered about him, but there’s no sound of things being tinkered with.
If one gets near enough, they could almost hear the very soft ‘chrrrchrrrchrr’s.
He’s not in as deep a slumber as he might seem, though.
Training Room
The ship is pretty much dead quiet. It’s a few days after the new arrivals and everyone was down on the Collectives.
It’s strange, but Nihlus found the silence peaceful for once. He finishes repairing that airlock, finalizes the repairs on some of the Scraplet damage and goes down to fiddle with the fabricator some more.
He’d debated going down for a supply run, but… that could wait a while more. They’d gotten a lot necessities through the Amissis-R and the Moira was going to be docked for a while yet from the looks of things.
So, for the first time in a while, Nihlus takes to the Sim room.
For anyone who walks in, they enter a room with tall, sloped ceilings and pale walls contrasted with warm tone lighting. The floor is lined with panels of what almost looked like nacre, the strange, iridescent material warm under barefoot. Wide windows streamed alien sunlight into the space, but if one tried looking out, they’d only be greeted by the vaguest outline of a silvery city through the brightness.
In the center of the room, Nihlus is decked out in his thermals and currently going through some sparring warm-ups with what looked like a red turian VI.
If you want to duke it out with a Spectre agent, now might your chance!
Wildcard!
((OOC: Ping me at![[plurk.com profile]](https://plurk.com/favicon.ico)
zapperkat if you want to discuss a scene or have any questions!))
When: Pretty much whenever.
Where: Around the Moira!
What: Weird napping locations and sparring?
Warnings: Sparring??
Lord of Powernapping
Normally, you wouldn’t catch Nihlus dead sleeping. Not even Eric or Tyler have probably ever seen Nihlus really sleeping. Staying up with the blanket draped over him like some demented, huge bird and the glow of his omni-tool lighting the fabric up underneath, yes. Actual sleeping though?
Rare.
And yet, if you walked into the Cargo bay sometime this week, there’ll be a figure curled up against the side of the nearly finished fabricator with schematics laid out around his head like a bizarre halo. Or you’ll find Nihlus down one of the endless hallways, in a dark corner and leaning oddly against the wall with a broom held loosely against his chest (he’s not in Cleaning anymore, and yet). If one ever wanders into the engine room, there’s someone holed up under the pipes, tools scattered about him, but there’s no sound of things being tinkered with.
If one gets near enough, they could almost hear the very soft ‘chrrrchrrrchrr’s.
He’s not in as deep a slumber as he might seem, though.
Training Room
The ship is pretty much dead quiet. It’s a few days after the new arrivals and everyone was down on the Collectives.
It’s strange, but Nihlus found the silence peaceful for once. He finishes repairing that airlock, finalizes the repairs on some of the Scraplet damage and goes down to fiddle with the fabricator some more.
He’d debated going down for a supply run, but… that could wait a while more. They’d gotten a lot necessities through the Amissis-R and the Moira was going to be docked for a while yet from the looks of things.
So, for the first time in a while, Nihlus takes to the Sim room.
For anyone who walks in, they enter a room with tall, sloped ceilings and pale walls contrasted with warm tone lighting. The floor is lined with panels of what almost looked like nacre, the strange, iridescent material warm under barefoot. Wide windows streamed alien sunlight into the space, but if one tried looking out, they’d only be greeted by the vaguest outline of a silvery city through the brightness.
In the center of the room, Nihlus is decked out in his thermals and currently going through some sparring warm-ups with what looked like a red turian VI.
If you want to duke it out with a Spectre agent, now might your chance!
Wildcard!
((OOC: Ping me at
no subject
"Goddess," Nihlus utters. "Are you okay?"
His immediate instinct is to run over and make sure the kid didn't concuss himself, but he's also pretty used to scaring the crap out of humans when he tries to do that, so... yeah. He's kind of standing awkward at the door, blinking owlishly at Dave.
"And, ah, thank you?" the Turian manages belatedly when he realizes that 'stripes' was referring to his face paint.
no subject
"I'm good. It's cool, don't worry about it."
It smarts like hell, but he's poker-facing his way through it. Not only because he's a little red from embarrassment, but because he's not sure if there's something he should be doing here. Clearly that's his cue to start rambling nervously.
"But yeah, it's very—" alarming? intimidating? shit, no, that's not gonna work "—metal." Good job, Dave. "KISS hasn't got anything on your shit. You might not even need a wig or skin-tight catsuit, if glam metal were a career you wanted to pursue. Everyone would be persuaded by virtue of your face instead."
no subject
One of Nihlus' mandibles slowly slant up and he glances around the room as if he'd somehow find answers to the... everything that'd just come out of the kid's mouth.
Of course, he finds nothing and he turns back to Dave as he gingerly sets his clothes down on his bed.
"We should try checking for a concussion," he offers carefully. "You sound a bit confused."
There's a good chance he'd just scared the crap out of the kid and this was just nervous babbling instead of some kind of serious injury, but, well. Nihlus was nothing if not a bit of a hen, and he's not sure how fragile human teens are.
no subject
He doesn't seem to realize this might be the opposite of reassuring.
"It's practically an immutable part of my being. If I don't say at least one confusing and/or embarrassing thing in a conversation, then I probably got abducted and replaced by a pod person."
no subject
And he says this as someone who'd apparently been shot in the head, so you know, speaking from personal experience here.
"I'm Nihlus by the way," he offers on a lighter note, eyes slanting in a smile. "I work in engineering. I'm usually wrapped up in some kind of project, so if you need anything and I'm not here, just ping on the Network."