revivalproject | 09 | Somebody Could Walk into This Room and Say Your Life is on Fire

WHO: the Soldier (

sinistral) and you
WHERE: the Peanut Party, Noth, the Agrii ship
WHAT: new tick tick tick BOOM
WHEN: from boarding the ships on the 9th through New Tick to the Agrii ship visit
WARNINGS: none anticipated

PEANUT PARTY
→ Before New Tick;

Being compelled to the ships while disturbing from the point of view of the compulsion nevertheless meant a better workout schedule for the Soldier. He would not have anticipated the Agrii to supply such well-equipped exercise areas, but he certainly did not mind it. For someone with his particular enhancements, equipment that could hold up to him without breaking was rare and he fully meant to take advantage of it.

Most often he could be found taking advantage of the heavy bags for sparring, or the climbing wall. Sometimes he worked with the weights, or gave what appeared to be lessons to Billy Kaplan. He wouldn't object if someone asked to rotate in on any of the equipment; likely he'd even act as spotter, if asked.

"You want next?"

→ After New Tick;

The workout habit by necessity had to change a little — frequency no; form yes. He didn't know whether or not he appreciated the Agrii's little gift, but it did require practice. Even if he ultimately decided not to keep it he'd have to figure out its best use, on the chance he'd have to fight with it.

Sometimes he really hated this place.

His preferred to work on this particular practice late at night or very early in the morning; when most people were still asleep and he could have the gym facilities to himself. He had thus far refused to put on the uniform, but he could be found throwing a distinctive shield over and over again until he could reliably hit his desired target and catch it on the rebound. Sometimes the wall near the door was a rebound point though; one might want to exercise caution if also looking to work out in the off hours.

Or perhaps this encounter wasn't in the gym, but rather in the hallway before or after. That shield was kind of large and conspicuous; it wasn't like he could carry it unnoticed on his way to or from his designated room.

NOTH
→ Fireworks;

The Soldier had no illusions about being anyone's idea of good company for things like fireworks shows. His training ran too deep, and the explosions of fireworks spoke too much of gunfire. It was worse if he didn't watch though; at least through observation he could correlate each explosion to its end result, count and catalog and track it all to convince himself that he had no need of retaliation. All in all, it was going quite well.

And then the glitter happened.

He cursed under his breath (in three languages, which would be fun for anyone relying on the Agrii translation technology) before tugging his own jacket off to wrap around his left arm and hand. Glitter played havoc with the mechanisms and the last thing he needed was to spend the next month trying to remove it all. Again.

→ Babysitting;

Saying that the Soldier didn't trust Agrii treats was one of the biggest understatements one could make. He avoided the generously-supplied chocolates like the plague, especially once it became clear that they had certain side effects.

His avoidance, however, didn't transmute itself to others.

The Soldier looked down at the child who had just come careening around the corner, right into his legs. Reflexively he'd reached out to prevent the younger one from falling into the snow, but he had a feeling he might not so easily be able to just brush off the encounter and go about his day. The look on his face simultaneously expressed the thoughts of why me and now what.

"Are you lost?" Good enough, right?

AGRII SHIP
→ Unintentional Popularity;

The bad part about being not only a resident of Temba but also one of the few brought from the Drift Fleet was a certain level of popularity. Quite possibly the Soldier's generally poor attitude contributed to it as well. Perhaps the Agrii were just that friendly with all their visitors. Whatever the case he found himself more and more often resulting to his stealth training to move silently and avoid detection when he had to move about the ship.

The end result was that, despite his careful attempts to slip along hallways relatively unnoticed he still managed to attract one or two followers from time to time. Perhaps some kind of monitoring system contributed to his ill luck, his brain suggested. He tried to quiet those thoughts even as his hand strayed out of habit to the knife at his side.

"Do not," he cautioned without turning around, "attempt to touch me. It will not end well for you."

The Agrii might find the prickly attitude endearing, however; the cautionary statement probably had as much of a chance of encouraging the hug as it did dissuading the determined alien. Perhaps it was time to jump in?

WILDCARD
→ Network;

Want your character to text or call this guy? Drunk dials? Really bad memes that you've made? Consider this your free for all invitation.

→ Something Else;

Have another idea? Come at me, or hit me up at

sometimesamuse or via PM. Want a more specific starter for your character? Let me know, I got you. Want to handwave something? I'm fine with that as well, let's hash it out. And while I write starters in prose I'm happy to match brackets if that's your preference.

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

Steve nods. "Yes, dogs should just get to be dogs." He smiles. "And get to play. Just like kids. And most adults, too. They always forget. At least. Momma does."

Steve might just be in the presence of another adult who forgot to relax and play. Or who just discarded the thought as not applicable to his life.

"You must have to remind her then, huh?" Probably best to keep him talking. "I bet she's very grateful."

"Well," he says, thinking about it. "I think she wants to. But she works too much. She's tired all the time," he says. He knows she wants to keep it from him, and that's why he tries to take care of himself as much as possible.

Which is also why he knows she'll be worried sick over him.

"I'm sure that you can still do things with her. Maybe quieter things, like reading." Or more likely art, from what the Soldier remembered. "Sometimes just sitting quietly with someone is all the other person needs. Knowing that you want to be there. It's enough."

He thinks about it, and nods. "That sounds like a good idea," he says. "I do miss when she used to read to me. Maybe she'd like it if I read to her."

And then, seeing a door to their destination, he ducks into it, because he's super cold.

"She probably would."

The Soldier followed Steve through the door, closing it after them to keep out the draft. It was much warmer inside the building; combined with the accessibility of food and a warm drink hopefully it would keep Steve inside for long enough to really chase the chill away.

Now inside, Steve shivers and hugs himself to get warm.

"There's cocoa, right?" is the first thing he asks. Because of course he would - he's seven.

"Absolutely. C'mon." He led the way to the replicator. "What about something to eat too? What do you want with cocoa?"

Steve thinks about it and asks: "Do you have... soup?" he doesn't get a lot of choices on things to eat. And though he has a wild imagination, he has way too realistic expectations.

"If you want soup, then yes. You can have whatever you want." Though in the cold weather few things could beat a hot, hearty soup with warm, crusty bread.

"You can wear my jacket if you're still cold," he offered, finally noticing the slight shivers. He should have thought about that earlier.

A soup is exactly what he wants because it's so cold and he's not used to being able to ask for much anything else, but he'll take whatever Soldier can give him.

"You'll be cold," is how he answers, as he curls in on himself more.

"I won't be cold," he replied, already shrugging off the jacket. It was heavier than it looked, leather and kevlar and a thermal layer for the weather. It left the Soldier in a long sleeved Henley in a dark blue, plenty warm enough for being indoors with the layer he had under it. "I lived for a long time in a cold climate. I'm used to it."

After another moment of consideration he went to the replicator: two soups, two mugs of hot cocoa, and two boules of crusty sourdough bread. "Potato-leek with bacon, and broccoli cheddar," he announced. "You can have one, or try both, or a little bit of each, or whatever you want. How does that sound?"

It pretty much buries the little Steve, what with all the layers. He's practically just a head floating above it, and he even grunts with the effort of when it's placed on him.

"That sounds great," he says, smiling with a grin that's missing a couple teeth. Not from fights, thankfully. "You sure this is all okay? I don't wanna put you out or anything."

"It's fine. If tell you if it wasn't." It was just a meal and a borrowed garment; there was no harm in it. And it wasn't any large expenditure of time and effort. It cost him literally nothing to be nice, and it was a lot easier to relax around this youth, barely remembered, than around the adult who he should remember more.

"Okay," he says, but he's not terribly convinced. Still, he's not going to argue with Soldier, so instead he just nods and accepts. "You didn't come from here," he says. "So why did you stay?"

"If I hadn't stayed," he countered, "who would get you hot cocoa?"

He thought about it for a little while, not wanting to worry Steve with talk of being unable to leave. "It feels like there's something I have to do here, but I'm not sure what. So I guess I'm trying to figure that out."

"There's other adults," he counters. Responsible adults. He doesn't think Soldier even wants to be a babysitter.

But then, after a minute of thought, he asks: "What have you tried?"

"Would you prefer if I find you someone else?" He wouldn't be offended. He knew his shortcomings.

The Soldier shrugged. "Mostly maintenance, I guess. Clearing debris if needed. Or snow I guess. Helping with repairs. Patrolling for wild animals."

"No," the child says, "but I know you've probably got other things to do. Like patrol." For wild animals? This place really was far from Brooklyn...

09 | Somebody Could Walk into This Room and Say Your Life is on Fire

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