Tony Stark (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
in_extremis) wrote in ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png)
revivalproject2022-10-23 05:28 pm
in_extremis) wrote in revivalproject2022-10-23 05:28 pm
Flood
WHO: Lerith and Tony, and whoever else might be taking refuge in the library
WHERE: The library
WHAT: We haven't quite figured out how to handle the screaming moon
WHEN: Mid-event nyoom under the wire
WARNINGS: Depends on your Tony-tolerance.
There didn't yet seem to be a universal way of dealing with the whole moon. A heavenly body acted on them, not the other way around, and so far it appeared as though they had to adapt to this development like they did the tides. The mothcats were relatively instructive. As the sun went down, when they typically became more active and the scourge of the local spider population, they had begun to slink closer to the floors, then huddle as deep in the belly of the library as they could get, infiltrating the human-occupied basement more confidently than they usually would. It insulated them some from the sound, and Tony suspected some other effect that they had no way of articulating, just had them restlessly grooming to try to smooth their ruffled feathers.
He was trying not to stray too far from the library anymore, either, despite the limits. Even if it wasn't so disruptive to cajole Jon along with him back and forth to the forge, that was probably the last place Jon should have been when he had to reminded what they were talking about mid-sentence. Tony hurt himself most of the time he was in there, and he knew what everything did. Instead, he had to work slowly, his workshop at the library largely compromised with the network inactive. For some things, this wasn't a terrible imposition; he could furnish most of Jon's office without the processing power that he had installed. For others, like the stray pieces of the Iron Man that he was slowly collecting, it wasn't so straightforward; they had to be hunted down, then disengaged from Extremis so they didn't go once again hurtling into the walls, or someone's fleshy body, the next time the moon peered down at them with its wicked grin. He lounged now with one of them that he had found, sprawled on the couch on his back with his legs kicking over the arm, meticulously dismantling the errant shinguard with his fine tools and tongue between his teeth. So engrossed, he didn't take much notice of the mothcats slipping away, already sticking to the shadows and moving silently as they did. Only one remained close, tucked against the back of the couch and against the warmth of Tony's stomach, and purring intently in a way that Tony only knew the interpret as contentment. Cats purred when they were happy, right? It was a soothingly consistent sound, anyway, and the animal was very still where it had wedged itself, watching Tony through anxiously slitted eyes. It knew what was coming, even if Tony wasn't prepared for the scream that shattered the air.
WHERE: The library
WHAT: We haven't quite figured out how to handle the screaming moon
WHEN: Mid-event nyoom under the wire
WARNINGS: Depends on your Tony-tolerance.
There didn't yet seem to be a universal way of dealing with the whole moon. A heavenly body acted on them, not the other way around, and so far it appeared as though they had to adapt to this development like they did the tides. The mothcats were relatively instructive. As the sun went down, when they typically became more active and the scourge of the local spider population, they had begun to slink closer to the floors, then huddle as deep in the belly of the library as they could get, infiltrating the human-occupied basement more confidently than they usually would. It insulated them some from the sound, and Tony suspected some other effect that they had no way of articulating, just had them restlessly grooming to try to smooth their ruffled feathers.
He was trying not to stray too far from the library anymore, either, despite the limits. Even if it wasn't so disruptive to cajole Jon along with him back and forth to the forge, that was probably the last place Jon should have been when he had to reminded what they were talking about mid-sentence. Tony hurt himself most of the time he was in there, and he knew what everything did. Instead, he had to work slowly, his workshop at the library largely compromised with the network inactive. For some things, this wasn't a terrible imposition; he could furnish most of Jon's office without the processing power that he had installed. For others, like the stray pieces of the Iron Man that he was slowly collecting, it wasn't so straightforward; they had to be hunted down, then disengaged from Extremis so they didn't go once again hurtling into the walls, or someone's fleshy body, the next time the moon peered down at them with its wicked grin. He lounged now with one of them that he had found, sprawled on the couch on his back with his legs kicking over the arm, meticulously dismantling the errant shinguard with his fine tools and tongue between his teeth. So engrossed, he didn't take much notice of the mothcats slipping away, already sticking to the shadows and moving silently as they did. Only one remained close, tucked against the back of the couch and against the warmth of Tony's stomach, and purring intently in a way that Tony only knew the interpret as contentment. Cats purred when they were happy, right? It was a soothingly consistent sound, anyway, and the animal was very still where it had wedged itself, watching Tony through anxiously slitted eyes. It knew what was coming, even if Tony wasn't prepared for the scream that shattered the air.
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