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)
revivalproject2023-08-15 02:44 pm
in_extremis) wrote in revivalproject2023-08-15 02:44 pm
Trace
WHO: Tony and Jon
WHERE: The Warrens
WHAT: A...reunion...?
WHEN: Shortly after the evacuation
WARNINGS: Tony's pretty depressed.
The way to stay distracted was to stay busy, and to stay busy meant tracing the cascading problem of resources down to a source point and working methodically back up. Tony couldn't just build a percussive drill to break through the earth, he had to forge parts, and produce materials before that, and manage to set a single thing on fire before that. In its own way, the whole maddening process was keeping him from the humiliating urge to ask a fruit to take up valuable space in their resource delivery for a bottle of scotch. He would still stop his work and tap out careful messages to the Barrys, explaining that he was building a stove, what each part did, and what the logistical problems were, and maybe, if he needed it, he would be able to ask a favour of them. He was absolutely rich in owed favours; one more couldn't hurt. And sure, the stove would be a good source of heat and way to manage the waste, but it was also going to help them stretch their food rations more efficiently, making the Barrys' job easier. That must have been worth a minibar vodka at least.
When the work was too repetitive and not challenging enough, the risk of an outburst of frustration or melancholy increased. Frustration could be productive, like the signboard that Tony had erected where the traffic was high, ostensibly for, as the rough title he carved into the top of it read, 'COMMUNITY'. Functionally, it was a place for him to post a message,
'SEEKING SCISSORS
LEAVE THEM'
How anyone else made use of it would be up to them, until Tony managed to build a radio.
The melancholy was more difficult to manage. It was quieter, and lasted longer. It left Tony sitting in a dark tunnel, listening to the rhythms of a machine he didn't understand, staring at it from the floor with the parts of his project scattered around his feet, his head tipped back against the wall and telling himself he was trying to find some pattern in the vibrations or cycling of fluids. It was about as effective as some stone age priest divining the meaning of life in the stars.
Stars would have been nice.
Mostly, it reminded him how stupid he actually was. Maybe it was a fluke, when he used to look at an alien engine and know how to replicate it in minutes. Some trick of the environment, encouragement from friends he had finessed into believing the image he had crafted for himself, arrogance. Definitely arrogance. He was definitely wrong about this stupid stove, too. The piece he had been carefully forming made a weird, dull sound as it bounced off of the alien machine, hitting that strange cushion before it could even leave a mark, the metal resolutely silent as Tony's part clattered noisily back to the floor.
WHERE: The Warrens
WHAT: A...reunion...?
WHEN: Shortly after the evacuation
WARNINGS: Tony's pretty depressed.
The way to stay distracted was to stay busy, and to stay busy meant tracing the cascading problem of resources down to a source point and working methodically back up. Tony couldn't just build a percussive drill to break through the earth, he had to forge parts, and produce materials before that, and manage to set a single thing on fire before that. In its own way, the whole maddening process was keeping him from the humiliating urge to ask a fruit to take up valuable space in their resource delivery for a bottle of scotch. He would still stop his work and tap out careful messages to the Barrys, explaining that he was building a stove, what each part did, and what the logistical problems were, and maybe, if he needed it, he would be able to ask a favour of them. He was absolutely rich in owed favours; one more couldn't hurt. And sure, the stove would be a good source of heat and way to manage the waste, but it was also going to help them stretch their food rations more efficiently, making the Barrys' job easier. That must have been worth a minibar vodka at least.
When the work was too repetitive and not challenging enough, the risk of an outburst of frustration or melancholy increased. Frustration could be productive, like the signboard that Tony had erected where the traffic was high, ostensibly for, as the rough title he carved into the top of it read, 'COMMUNITY'. Functionally, it was a place for him to post a message,
'SEEKING SCISSORS
LEAVE THEM'
How anyone else made use of it would be up to them, until Tony managed to build a radio.
The melancholy was more difficult to manage. It was quieter, and lasted longer. It left Tony sitting in a dark tunnel, listening to the rhythms of a machine he didn't understand, staring at it from the floor with the parts of his project scattered around his feet, his head tipped back against the wall and telling himself he was trying to find some pattern in the vibrations or cycling of fluids. It was about as effective as some stone age priest divining the meaning of life in the stars.
Stars would have been nice.
Mostly, it reminded him how stupid he actually was. Maybe it was a fluke, when he used to look at an alien engine and know how to replicate it in minutes. Some trick of the environment, encouragement from friends he had finessed into believing the image he had crafted for himself, arrogance. Definitely arrogance. He was definitely wrong about this stupid stove, too. The piece he had been carefully forming made a weird, dull sound as it bounced off of the alien machine, hitting that strange cushion before it could even leave a mark, the metal resolutely silent as Tony's part clattered noisily back to the floor.
no subject
Though his eyes do flick up to the indicated vent. Not without concern, however. Should they ask about the spores first?
no subject