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)
revivalproject2023-03-19 11:05 am
in_extremis) wrote in revivalproject2023-03-19 11:05 am
Evert
WHO: Tony, Salem??, anyone around
WHERE: By the fountain, at the forge
WHAT: Tony has returned in time to witness...The Obelisk™. Salem is also technically here, so if you want to hang with him, just make that clear.
WHEN: Now! Immediately!
WARNINGS: Just this big phallic symbol.
a. fountain
The Agrii didn't think that Tony had enough cats. The alternative explanations that Tony was attempting to calculate were all, so far, much more uncomfortable, though that was not yet taking into account what the upper limit of cats was to the Agrii. He hadn't put himself here, after all, at least not while fully in control of his faculties, and a relapse would not explain the cat. It was warm and soft, which Tony clung to as the cold, dry ground viciously yanked him out of his sleep and forced his awareness of the chill that had seeped into his bones, and the ache from being curled on the stone.
Every joint protested as he pushed himself up onto his hands, where he blinked down at the animal, who peered blearily up at him for this disturbance. It seemed only fair that Tony gather it up off of the ground as well as he twisted to sit, glance around himself to try to reboot, and cast an accusatory glare at the glow of the data point. His own DATA points weren't much more help. He could see himself through their impartial gaze trained on the fountain, the cat squirming uncomfortably in his hold. Rolling back their recording made it seem like there had been a graceless edit--Tony was there, lying on the ground, then he wasn't. What did happen over time was the strangely bulbous burgeoning of this new...structure. It cast a shadow over him, and he squinted up at the construction as he ran the recording back and forward in the back of his mind, hoping there was something there to explain the thing's presence. It just grew, like a mushroom from the ground. In the meantime, the animal was growing increasingly frustrated with being clutched, and with a hiss and dig of its claws into Tony's arm finally got Tony to grumble, "Jesus, fine," and let it back down onto the cold ground. He would have watched it waddle away, only his attention was suddenly captured by his now emptied hands, which looked startlingly normal. They were not supposed to look normal. It took some flipping them back and forth to see the seam line. A thin band of scarring around his fingers where they had been stunted, and where they were now whole and smooth, uncalloused in that unfamiliar way that Extremis had left them when it first rebuilt him. He was missing time.
That got him hurrying to his feet finally, casting around for the cat again like they might be able to explain to him what had happened. They had gotten some distance from him, and were meandering curiously around the unfamiliar structure, until they sat to bat at the side of it. It...jiggled. That wasn't quite the right word, it was doing something much stranger, something that an otherwise solid-looking surface really shouldn't have. "Believe it or not, this is not the weirdest thing I've woken up to," Tony said, which did not get the animal's attention as effectively as he was hoping. "Nothing? Okay. Great. I hope it was good for you."
b. forge
This was getting exhausting. Not just the trek back to the forge on foot, without the Iron Man--how demeaning--but the recurring need to revisit, reassess, to...clean. That wasn't the future. This whole place was supposed to be under reconstruction, and every bump in the road sent Tony back to struggling to get control over the tiniest fraction of it. "What we do have," he was saying out loud, arguably to himself with only a metal ball rolling along beside him, "is a bunch of junk that isn't getting more useful just sitting there. It's not telling me anything new about the Atroma and how they watch us, or control us. It's circuits and screws." The ball gave a waver back and forth as they went, like it wasn't so sure it agreed with this assessment. Tony persisted, as they made their way down the chilled road, toward the inert chimney of the forge, and the heavy, metal door that Tony gently laid his hand on to send sliding aside. He repeated, "What we do have," and waved both hands, like the robot that walked with him could finish the thought for him. "Is the parts to make those garden-roombas of our own. Something more useful. Something that does laundry." The ball didn't seem to like this much either, rolling to a stop where it could tilt its camera lens up toward Tony's face, and narrow its aperture dubiously. He wouldn't want to be doing laundry. "You're just going to help me program them," Tony assured him, as though that was any better.
WHERE: By the fountain, at the forge
WHAT: Tony has returned in time to witness...The Obelisk™. Salem is also technically here, so if you want to hang with him, just make that clear.
WHEN: Now! Immediately!
WARNINGS: Just this big phallic symbol.
a. fountain
The Agrii didn't think that Tony had enough cats. The alternative explanations that Tony was attempting to calculate were all, so far, much more uncomfortable, though that was not yet taking into account what the upper limit of cats was to the Agrii. He hadn't put himself here, after all, at least not while fully in control of his faculties, and a relapse would not explain the cat. It was warm and soft, which Tony clung to as the cold, dry ground viciously yanked him out of his sleep and forced his awareness of the chill that had seeped into his bones, and the ache from being curled on the stone.
Every joint protested as he pushed himself up onto his hands, where he blinked down at the animal, who peered blearily up at him for this disturbance. It seemed only fair that Tony gather it up off of the ground as well as he twisted to sit, glance around himself to try to reboot, and cast an accusatory glare at the glow of the data point. His own DATA points weren't much more help. He could see himself through their impartial gaze trained on the fountain, the cat squirming uncomfortably in his hold. Rolling back their recording made it seem like there had been a graceless edit--Tony was there, lying on the ground, then he wasn't. What did happen over time was the strangely bulbous burgeoning of this new...structure. It cast a shadow over him, and he squinted up at the construction as he ran the recording back and forward in the back of his mind, hoping there was something there to explain the thing's presence. It just grew, like a mushroom from the ground. In the meantime, the animal was growing increasingly frustrated with being clutched, and with a hiss and dig of its claws into Tony's arm finally got Tony to grumble, "Jesus, fine," and let it back down onto the cold ground. He would have watched it waddle away, only his attention was suddenly captured by his now emptied hands, which looked startlingly normal. They were not supposed to look normal. It took some flipping them back and forth to see the seam line. A thin band of scarring around his fingers where they had been stunted, and where they were now whole and smooth, uncalloused in that unfamiliar way that Extremis had left them when it first rebuilt him. He was missing time.
That got him hurrying to his feet finally, casting around for the cat again like they might be able to explain to him what had happened. They had gotten some distance from him, and were meandering curiously around the unfamiliar structure, until they sat to bat at the side of it. It...jiggled. That wasn't quite the right word, it was doing something much stranger, something that an otherwise solid-looking surface really shouldn't have. "Believe it or not, this is not the weirdest thing I've woken up to," Tony said, which did not get the animal's attention as effectively as he was hoping. "Nothing? Okay. Great. I hope it was good for you."
b. forge
This was getting exhausting. Not just the trek back to the forge on foot, without the Iron Man--how demeaning--but the recurring need to revisit, reassess, to...clean. That wasn't the future. This whole place was supposed to be under reconstruction, and every bump in the road sent Tony back to struggling to get control over the tiniest fraction of it. "What we do have," he was saying out loud, arguably to himself with only a metal ball rolling along beside him, "is a bunch of junk that isn't getting more useful just sitting there. It's not telling me anything new about the Atroma and how they watch us, or control us. It's circuits and screws." The ball gave a waver back and forth as they went, like it wasn't so sure it agreed with this assessment. Tony persisted, as they made their way down the chilled road, toward the inert chimney of the forge, and the heavy, metal door that Tony gently laid his hand on to send sliding aside. He repeated, "What we do have," and waved both hands, like the robot that walked with him could finish the thought for him. "Is the parts to make those garden-roombas of our own. Something more useful. Something that does laundry." The ball didn't seem to like this much either, rolling to a stop where it could tilt its camera lens up toward Tony's face, and narrow its aperture dubiously. He wouldn't want to be doing laundry. "You're just going to help me program them," Tony assured him, as though that was any better.
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