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thisavrou_log2016-07-25 10:43 pm
backsassin) wrote in thisavrou_log2016-07-25 10:43 pm
Entry tags:
despite what you've been told, i once had a soul
Who: Zam Wesell and YOU!
When: July 30th - 31st
Where: Training Sim Room and Library
What: Zam returns to the Moira after more than a week of murderslave fighting. Understandably has Issues.
Warnings: Mentions of slavery
training sim room
[After what Zam’s been through in the Runoff, most wouldn’t expect to find him here of all places. Under his “sponsors” he had fought daily. It didn’t matter who his opponent was or what state he was in himself; they told him who to kill and he did as he was told.
Not too different from his old occupation, if he’s being perfectly honest with himself.
Except the program he has running now isn’t that. Zam and his AI opponent are unarmed and Zam’s not fighting to kill. He’s in his uniform and veil, not armor, and every movement he makes is meant to block, redirect, or dodge, practiced in a way that’s only achieved through years of rote repetition. Yet every once and awhile, there’s a sudden tension -- a fist that uncurls as quickly as it forms or the shifted weight of a kick that never comes. Zam’s holding back. And given that his AI opponent doesn’t seem to share the shapeshifter’s reservations about attacking its opponent, it’s hard to know how long he can stay on the defensive.]
library
[When he’s not in the training room, Zam’s usually in the library. Books have always been one of his go-to resources for distracting himself, at least when he’s not in the mood for a more chemical solution. He’s in a chair with one open in his lap now… except he doesn’t actually seem to be reading it. His eyes are on the page, but they aren’t moving with the words and he hasn’t actually turned the page in quite some time. He doesn’t react if approached either. It hardly seems like he’s aware of his surroundings at all.
Maybe you should see what's wrong with him?]
When: July 30th - 31st
Where: Training Sim Room and Library
What: Zam returns to the Moira after more than a week of murderslave fighting. Understandably has Issues.
Warnings: Mentions of slavery
training sim room
[After what Zam’s been through in the Runoff, most wouldn’t expect to find him here of all places. Under his “sponsors” he had fought daily. It didn’t matter who his opponent was or what state he was in himself; they told him who to kill and he did as he was told.
Not too different from his old occupation, if he’s being perfectly honest with himself.
Except the program he has running now isn’t that. Zam and his AI opponent are unarmed and Zam’s not fighting to kill. He’s in his uniform and veil, not armor, and every movement he makes is meant to block, redirect, or dodge, practiced in a way that’s only achieved through years of rote repetition. Yet every once and awhile, there’s a sudden tension -- a fist that uncurls as quickly as it forms or the shifted weight of a kick that never comes. Zam’s holding back. And given that his AI opponent doesn’t seem to share the shapeshifter’s reservations about attacking its opponent, it’s hard to know how long he can stay on the defensive.]
library
[When he’s not in the training room, Zam’s usually in the library. Books have always been one of his go-to resources for distracting himself, at least when he’s not in the mood for a more chemical solution. He’s in a chair with one open in his lap now… except he doesn’t actually seem to be reading it. His eyes are on the page, but they aren’t moving with the words and he hasn’t actually turned the page in quite some time. He doesn’t react if approached either. It hardly seems like he’s aware of his surroundings at all.
Maybe you should see what's wrong with him?]
library
It was as he was heading to a table to read the book he'd singled out--something on complex cybernetics that was sure to be a distraction--that the robot noticed Zam reading. Or...well, playing as if he was doing that.
He only hesitates for a few moments before changing direction and walking with purpose towards Zam. Once he's close enough, he speaks.]
I admit I don't know much about you, but you did not strike me as a reader.
[As it had been in the holding cells, his voice is pretty much devoid of its charm and enthusiasm.]
no subject
Not smart enough? [It’s not the first time someone has assumed as much about him.]
no subject
[Mettaton's not much for thinking before speaking, but he wouldn't ever insinuate something like that unless someone was being a dick first. He sort of feels bad that Zam jumped to that, but then, he's having a hard time dealing with whether he's a good person or not, so that is also...not really Zam's problem.]
I just meant that I haven't crossed paths with you here as of yet.
no subject
It’s a good place to be if you’re looking for distraction. [Zam doesn’t mention that it hasn’t been working very well for him as of late. Maybe it's obvious already.]
no subject
How is that working for you?
[A simple question. Inoffensive, he thinks.]
no subject
[Zam’s expression isn’t hostile but it is watchful. Mettaton was there with him on the Runoff, which earns him a few points in terms of trust. But Zam’s not going to admit to weakness if the droid doesn’t first.]
no subject
[Mettaton sighs. He's not interested in sharing, but this conversation was going to go nowhere if he didn't take the initiative to ask something worthwhile.]
How did you get out?
no subject
My owners paired me with another slave from the Moira. She managed to get in touch with one of her friends, and he got us out. [For which Zam obviously owes him. A lot.]
How about you?
no subject
As for me, I have Papyrus to thank for that. We were pitted against one another. [Mettaton hadn't liked that very much at all, but at least the ending wasn't unhappy.
Even describing it, he looked a little starry-eyed, and there's a bit of his usual enthusiasm seeping through.]
I knew he was strong, of course, but to think he had enough magic to blast the place wide open is just...he's so powerful!! Anyway, we made our way out like that! The blast must have incapacitated my owner, otherwise I wouldn't have gotten away, so I'm glad.
no subject
Wouldn’t have thought Papyrus had it in him. [The taller of the two skeletons had seemed harmless enough when Zam had spoken to him over the network all those months ago. Then again, he is related to Sans -- and Sans is more than proficient at keeping up a harmless act as well.]
no subject
[Saying that brought him down a few notches, and he was quiet for a few seconds before refocusing on Papyrus. It's way easier to focus on talking up Papyrus!]
But anyway! Yes, you know. I thought the same but he's actually pretty tough!! I mean, even if we were acting a little, we still got some hits in, and he managed to bang up my arm!!! Small price to pay, though.
[Mettaton says it with more reverence than aggravation. At least it moves, right?]
sim room
He slips in without disrupting the simulated combat, back against the wall inside the room. It's an interesting show. He's familiar with the trojan's maneuvers—Zam had shown him some of the same tricks during their 'therapy'. But they aren't running to completion. Block, but no counter, redirect, but no throw. A pause, a hesitation, glitching just enough to miss the takedown that presents.
Rinzler doesn't interfere or comment, but Zam might catch the slight rise in the program's sound. Or the dubious headtilt that accompanies it. Does this serve a purpose, or is the trojan just malfunctioning?]
no subject
Zam tries to ignore him at first. His simulated opponent continues to strike and Zam continues to avoid or block its blows with no sign of reciprocation. However, it doesn’t take long for the program’s presence to begin to grate on Zam’s nerves. Feeling eyes on him as he fights feels much too like having an audience on the Runoff for his liking. Zam puts up with it for another minute before getting fed up. The next time his opponent strikes, Zam blocks and catches, hand closing around the simulation’s wrist and twisting its arm downwards as he darts behind it, forcing it swiftly to the floor. The simulated opponent collapses forward, arm pinned behind it in a position that most organic humanoids would find extremely uncomfortable. It struggles, briefly, and then stills, before tapping it’s free hand against the floor.]
Training room off. [Rinzler knows of Zam’s ability to change the sound of their voice by now, but the difference is more than that this time. The words come out halting, clumsy, and painful, each syllable punctuated by the scrape of glass grinding against glass. Still, it’s enough for the room to recognize and the opponent Zam had been holding flickers into empty space at the words.
Zam stands and turns to face the program, expression annoyed. He reaches for his MID, summoning up the keyboard application and tapping out a message to display.]
Enjoying the show?
no subject
He's seen better.]
Purpose?
no subject
[But Zam’s never had Rinzler’s gift for conciseness and a moment later, he’s tapping at the keyboard again.]
Wanted to see how much of my training I still remember.
no subject
Purpose: training?
[He doesn't see a lot of sense in practicing how to not fight.]
no subject
Purpose: self-testing.
Not for your entertainment.
[Not now and not ever again.]
no subject
Still, that rebuke is harder to miss. So is its tone. Rinzler stills for a second time, helmet slanting in a small, reflexive motion before the enforcer thinks better of it. This room is one they've practiced in together before now. Different methods of attack or defense, with plenty of commentary, serious and otherwise, on all processes involved.
But there's serious, and there's this. The program's not sure why questions are suddenly off-limits (or was it presence alone?), but there's a difference between retort and rejection, and some hints, even Rinzler can't miss.
Orange-lit hands lower to each side, the holographic display vanishing to null. Rinzler's helmet dips in precise, careful acknowledgement. And he turns to leave. If the trojan doesn't want him here, he'll avoid prolonging the mistake.]
no subject
A text message will find its way to Rinzler's MID inbox later that day. Had Zam been able to say it in his own voice when they were face-to-face, no doubt it would have been said in a terse tone, likely in the same breath as a prickly sigh. Rinzler will just have to imagine those things in the meantime.]
Thank you.