revivalproject | (no subject)

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WHO: Tony and some glownies, and any witnesses to this experiment
WHERE: Sansa and Tyrion's house, the livestock nursery, anywhere in between
WHAT: Tony sees an obvious solution to a transportation problem.
WHEN: There's a few options in here, this is an extended period of time while Tony works out the problems and gets your input. Theadjacking imperative, talk amongst yourselves.
WARNINGS: Potential animal harassment and/or consumption. That one's on Tommy.
ALSO: I've got an OOC post if you want to hash something out with me/each other, or there's something known about these animals/places that I've messed up.

Suburban Cowboy
The effort of cleaning out the forge and getting the heat on had caused a deep-muscle kind of exhaustion that encouraged Tony to recuperate for a whole, like, ten minutes with his feet kicked up on a worktop he found he liked the feel of, thankful for the soldering iron that had come back from Risa with him so he could mostly work in stillness as he knitted some found fragments together with his tongue between his teeth and cheap sunglasses precariously on the end of his nose. His work wasn't manifesting the mechanism of the data points quickly, though, and he was going to have to reprogram his tablet if he was going to Frankenstein a working computer that in any way satisfied his level of patience before he could start making sense of any software. If the workforce in any way seemed to exist on this planet, Tony would have found a way to pay for this menial labour days ago. It was taking way too much time to actually get to work.

Trying to sleep at this point didn't help his focus; laying in his nest of what he identified as largely blackout curtains repurposed from around the forge and neighbouring factory, close enough to his workbench that he could fall into it at any moment, Tony just stared wide-eyed at the dark, vaulted ceiling listening to the profound lack of humanity around him. There was no familiar rush of traffic, or even constant hum of power. There wasn't even a satellite he could reach out to to listen in on the murmur of connection around the planet. There was just the tiny, little network of a handful of people, mostly silent on a good day. All he could hear was the alien fauna, so clear without the familiar noise pollution, like being isolated up in a mountain cabin: a rustle of leaves as something small darted through the underbrush outside, a repeating call that back home Tony would have identified as a toad but here was probably some kind of scavenger canid. And his muscles still ached, but not nearly enough to knock him out yet, not like the last few times he'd been able to convince himself to sleep.

He hadn't gone West from the area around the forge yet, finding himself straying into the centre of town where most of the activity and food was to be found when he could make the journey, but it wasn't a particularly long run in that direction before he found himself jogging around what felt like a common block of a subdivision. This could have been an admittedly still pretty alien, but cottagey area of Long Island; he felt like he could pass a yoga mom out on her early morning jog before the school rush at any moment. The surrealism was enough without a flicker of faint light that kept on catching his eye as he rounded the block. It wasn't bright enough for Tony to pinpoint immediately, but without any other lights on his whole run, it was hard to miss, and eventually he slowed enough to wander toward it, through a yard to a fenced off area.

Were those llamas glowing?

Glow-Ranching
The agricultural sector of this community, or any community, really, hadn't been of much interest to Tony so far. It seemed to be functional and producing edible products, and the details could be left to the kind of freaks who enjoyed that kind of information, like biologists and plant-mom millenials. What he hadn't considered until now was the potential for an untapped labour force. Every agricultural society in history had very quickly figured out that domesticating animals, whether it was dogs or cattle, to get their stuff from one place to another, was much more civilized than walking around like cavemen. This New Temba Colony was so far behind on their development. Most of them might have been advanced enough in their technological development back home to be well beyond this kind of system, into spaceflight or beyond, but the resources for that kind of thing were many and complex. These resources were right here, fueled by weeds and, by all accounts, pretty placid.

The livestock nursery was a surprisingly quiet place, and Tony's first scan didn't reveal any obvious foot traffic. It was the middle of the long day, though-- when the sun was at its peak for that long, it was difficult not to buy into the siesta lifestyle. Everyone could have been in the huge greenhouse, that did seem to be the centre of plenty of activity whenever Tony was in the area, so Tony took a moment to squint up at it across the street, hand shielding his eyes, hoping he might see someone through the glass to catch their attention.

Field Test
Tony was very close to the camera, but he wasn't quite looking at it, clearly attempting to balance it carefully so he could back away slowly, hands up and waiting for it the tablet to fall. Perfect, stable, it wasn't about to pitch off of the fence. In one hand seemed to be loops of rope, while he used the other to point at the camera now expectantly. "Okay, rolling. This is field test one, starting mark..." He spun around, searching, and found that his subject was about ten feet from where he had left her and called, "Hey. We're trying to do something here. Places, people." None of the glownies had learned Tony's language yet, including this one. He turned back to the camera, and tried a new tactic, "This is Llamrei, she's a champ, has lots of ideas to contribute to the project. Today we are going to see if we can ride her."

In the time it took Tony to jog over to the animal, there was a distinct shiver to the camera as someone disturbed the fence, and it wobbled just as Tony started to murmur sweet encouragement to his project and try to slide his makeshift reins into place. The tablet hit the dirt at the same time as Tony went, "Woah, sorry!"

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

[Exponential woof. Tony noticed, the guy doesn't have to point it out.]

What kind of crisis are you prepared for? Is there a rash of impulsive animal training that no one shared with me? Listen, if one of you already tried to make these guys into pack animals and are just letting me wear myself out...You know what, I get it, but you've just made the glownies deal with me, and isn't that more cruel?

We can tend to injuries, and anything else that might come along. Won't be easy, but we can.

[Like the upcoming birth. Altair has been very focused on making sure they can handle that. Of course, he doesn't feel like getting too far into details either.

This guy though...] You're not an easy person to get along with, are you?

No, that's a personal problem. [They had been talking for approximately 30 seconds, this had to be a new record. How did he figure it out so fast?] We're definitely going to hit it off after a big swing like that, though. A guy likes to hear the deeply judgemental stuff early in a relationship.

Somehow I doubt it.

[Said as dryly as possible.] Regardless, I didn't respond to this to antagonize you, only to tell you to take things slowly and be cautious.

Though I can't help but wonder if maybe teaching the glownies to pull a small cart would be safer and easier than breaking them in to ride. Of course there's the issue of building a cart first.

Is the process that different? [This is not a project Tony should be in charge of.] A cart isn't a problem. Should I have the cart first? You know, that's not how the saying goes, that's misleading.

[... This man is going to cause him so much stress, Altair is just sure of it.]

Whatever saying you're thinking of, I probably haven't heard it.

[He's just going to save himself some frustration by steering the conversation in that direction, thanks.]

That's a weirdly confident gamble. Do you not... [What kind of isolation made someone sure they didn't know sayings?] Interact? With people?

Don't put the cart before the horse. I'm trying to think of another one that means the same thing, but now I'm really focused on this thing about you.

There's a very high likelihood we're not from the same world. We're not the same species, either.

[On comes the camera, to drive that point home.] What's common knowledge for you might not be common knowledge for everyone else here.

I get that, I do, you're not the first alien I've met, but you come at me...You don't have idioms? At all?

We do, just none like that that I know of.

[Let him think...] Safer than a Senator's daughter in a roomful of Jedi is one. Not the brightest lightsaber in the galaxy is another. Chances are that every planet has their own idioms though, even though there might be similarities.

There we go, see, your bedside manner isn't a totally empty tank. We've got both of those, I think, maybe-- is the Senator's daughter one supposed to be ironic?

Yes, I was joking. I have a sense of humor.

[Barely. But it's there.]

No, it means that someone or something is completely safe. I suppose an ironic version could be about as safe as a Senator's daughter in a roomful of Sith.

[He doesn't think anyone but him has thought of that one though.

But then, it's a large galaxy, so maybe someone has.]

Yeah, guys who say that out loud tend to be laugh riots. Let me make the judgements about you, I'm better at it, you can't be trusted.

Okay, I know what a Jedi is, kind of. I have met a Jedi. I was not aware they were eunuchs, and that's a fair personal choice, I guess, but you have made Sith sound like a much more intriguing lifestyle.

[...]

... That's not what I... [Sigh.]

I'm not going to argue with Sith being the more intriguing lifestyle, though I have my issues with it. The lack of care for life besides one's own can be a pain to navigate around, same with the rampant murder and mayhem.

[...] But you have to be able to use the Force to be Jedi or Sith and I doubt you're truly that interested in the differences in culture and lifestyle.

Oh, yeah, a pain, really irritating, that. What? I mean, now you've got me interested, I know I was ready to buy in first, but I didn't have the murder issue keyed up, that's a big one to overlook for a bit of hedonism.

You call it murder, a Sith may call it a chance for a promotion. Sith are individualistic creatures, and many would sacrifice much to ensure they're superior and that their reign of terror will be a long one. They believe blood is cheap, and the only thing that matters is personal power.

[Altair loves being Sith, he just hates most of what makes a Sith a Sith.] Those who make it make it, and those who don't are forgotten and often unmourned.

[He'd mourned the deaths of his fellows when he was becoming Sith. But he'd been happy too- happy that it wasn't him.

Still, it's rather a lot to get into with a man who doesn't seem to have the ability to take things seriously.]

We are talking about a sentient, evolved sort of...this is a kind of church we're talking about here, you haven't been trying to tell me about a pack of wild animals, right? I'm still following the plot? [It didn't sound like there was much behavioural difference, but the distinction is still an important one.]

Is that the Force's deal, if you've got it you're going all in with some extreme ideology? Some kind of hormonal situation? [Cal didn't seem like he was about to go feral.]

You're still following the plot.

[Deep sigh.] Everyone's approach to the Force is different. Jedi dedicate themselves to learning, to balance, to justice and fairness some would say. Sith often dedicate themselves to warfare, to the dark, to crush others beneath their heel.

That's not how I see the Sith though. Sith are strength, and freedom. It's always been my belief that that strength should be channeled into worthwhile goals, to the protection of the Empire's people and the betterment of the nation... The Sith Empire should be a place where all are free to pursue their goals so long as those goals make us all stronger...

But, there are truly as many Sith philosophies as there are Sith, and entirely too many Sith are completely insane.

[This is making it sound like the sane ones are the outliers, if that is even possible. Tony has doubts.] That tracks.

The two of them went to war, then. And the Jedi lost. [That was the puzzle Cal had scattered pieces of, anyway.] Sounds like a great place.

If you're thinking about Cal, he's from nearly four-thousand years in the future from my own timeline.

[He's aware of what happens to the Jedi though.]

Everyone just lets the Sith be warmongers for four thousand years?

How should I know? In Cal's time, I've been dead for nearly four thousand years.

[Immortality has been within his reach a few times. But each time, he's turned it away, because his people is more important to him than eternal life.] The war has been raging for longer than I've been alive though.

Sith fighting Sith, Sith fighting Jedi, Empire fighting the Republic...

[Quietly, to himself;] Guess we can't blame Vitiate for all of it... At least I don't think so...

[He shakes his head.] Not all Sith are warmongers, either. I would like nothing but lasting peace, in fact.

[The language has been plausibly impersonal so far, but it's harder to ignore now.] Does that make you one of the insane ones?

... How does not being a warmonger make me insane?

[No seriously.]

I've just got what you've told me to go on, Doc, it sounds like that would be a challenge to reconcile with...the rest of the deal.