03 | The stairs creak as I sleep

[sinistral]

WHO: the Soldier (sinistral) and you
WHERE: network and out and about on the planet
WHAT: remembering how to rp celebrating final exams being over out and about doing totally normal former-but-maybe-still-kinda assassin things
WHEN: whatever passes on this planet for December
WARNINGS: none; will update if that changes

---

TEMBA
→ Flood Plain;

Though he hasn't explored it for himself, he's been told of the ruins beneath the waters. And though he knows they're too far down to actually make out any details he's standing at the edge of the water regardless, almost glaring at the surface as if stubbornness alone could raise said ruins from their watery resting place.

It's a lot to think about, still, the apparent relationship between the Agrii and the Atroma. Certainly they had come back with a lot of information and certainly he's turned it all over again and again, but the pieces still don't settle right in his mind. Too much and not enough all at once, and the fact that the Agrii are apparently content to keep their distance from any real danger the planet presents seems a little too convenient.

Something bigger is going on and there's far too little information. The Soldier shakes his head in response to his own ruminations; the sad part is that he's getting used to that.

→ Amphitheater;

What may have been some sort of stadium or entertainment center for the Agrii makes a perfect space for working out; the steps are high enough to make running up and down them a challenge, even for long legs. And while there's nothing so formal as a track, running the inside perimeter suffices as a warmup when the Soldier isn't feeling like a tour through the more ruined areas of the city.

At one end of the space he's set up a crude target with a drawn-on bullseye; he flips a knife at it on every lap, pulling it out on his way past. It's not the ideal practice space but it works for now, works because he just needs to do something, to challenge himself to make the throw from further and further away because he may not have had a choice in how he got his skills, but they're his to use as he wants now.

→ Hangar;

The ships had gotten banged up making planetfall; the Soldier is no mechanic but has been doing what he can, when he can in order to make small repairs to the Twin Roses. He'd learned enough assisting Cal for at least that much. And it doesn't take much expertise to right the few things that got strewn about the ship's interior, items tumbling loose in the small kitchenette and other such chores.

Privately, he also wonders if access to the ships will be cut off at any time; could the Agrii recall the ships to space, leaving them stranded on the planet? He's honestly not sure, and checking on the vehicles every now and then is more an assurance that the transports are still present.

NETWORK
→ Text;

Seems like the weather's getting colder.
Or is it just me?

WILDCARD
→ Elsewhere;

Want something else? Have an idea? Hit me up at sometimesamuse or PM for Discord. Open to wherever, whatever, and though I write starters in prose I'm more than happy to switch to brackets if it's your preference.

Comments

Amphitheater

[deal_me_in]

Running laps seems a bit excessive to the Hunter Vanguard as he watches the man from up a few rows towards the top. He lounges on his side as casual as someone might be at home on a couch in front of the television, a hand propping up his head. All that's missing is a bowl of popcorn.

"Is the running part really necessary?" he finally asks. His free hand fiddles with a knife of his own, idly twirling it back and forth between his fingers.

[sinistral]

Running laps is a perfectly acceptable form of exercise, thank you very much. At least the scrutiny doesn't bother him; he's rather used to it. And he's definitely not thinking about why he's used to being observed.

"Got the energy to burn," he replies. His metabolism is jacked up just like everything else but even so, he still needs to put the effort into training. There's far too much that he doesn't trust about this place to be caught unprepared, to allow his self discipline in his training regimen falter.

Besides, while there are a fair few of them in this place whose abilities seem enhanced above those of a normal human, not everyone is.

[deal_me_in]

"Fair enough," Cayde says. He swings his legs down as he sits himself up, stretching out his arms over his head before he slowly gets to his feet in the casual manner of an overgrown cat.

"Not bad with a knife though. I'm assuming you can hit something on the move as much as you can something standing still."

[sinistral]

Definitely an overgrown cat, and not of the Catra variety, Cade appears more as the lazy-animal-in-a-sunbeam variety of cat. But the thing about cats is that they do have claws, and the Soldier wonders once again why this place seems to need a variety of people who could fit that description. Dangerous describes a fair number of them and sure, those skills have been useful, but why are they really here?

Who's behind the Agrii, pulling the strings?

"It's in my skillset," he shrugs, seeing no reason to hide it. "Though I'll admit caution with my target practice in a place where there's no guarantee of replacing broken equipment."

[deal_me_in]

That is a question he's circled and crossed and probably worn a rut out for how many times it's been revisited. His talks with Tony had really only prompted more questions than narrowed down possibilities. They clearly don't have enough for even an idea of a picture of what they're trying to put together, and it seems like just when they start to make sense of something, someone throws more puzzle pieces into the mix.

"Not a bad skillset to have," Cayde replies. "Funny thing. You're worried about broken equipment and I'm concerned about wasting ammo. Targets aren't a real problem but I guess that depends on what you're using." He sweeps a look around the rest of the amphitheater.

"You could make it more interesting. You got one target, why not set up several around here, different levels? Or I could find beanbags or something and throw 'em at you while you're running."

[sinistral]

It doesn't seem like they're going to get satisfying answers any time soon, honestly. For every answer they do get, there are a ton more questions behind it. The sad part is that he isn't even surprised by that anymore.

"I just don't trust that we'll be able to obtain replacements. There are arguments for keeping us unarmed, don't you think?" From a certain point of view they are prisoners — perhaps not of the Agrii directly, but they apparently at least play a part in what's going on — and armed prisoners can certainly fight back against their captors.

He tips his head to the side, considering the offer. "You just want to throw things," he finally decides, a smirk playing about his lips. "I'm onto you."

[deal_me_in]

"Heh! They can try anyway. Those 'death tools' may be rigged for datapoint-only usage, but I scavenged a good half a score of guns that the Graq had on 'em. Obviously they weren't using them- they didn't even know how. Those don't seem to require extra instruction manuals." The Exo grins at the man. "I might be willing to share a few."

And then somehow he manages to smile coyly at the accusation, and one might get the feeling that if he had eyelashes he'd flutter them just to complete the effect. "I really do," he admits. "Can't blame a guy for wanting to make things interesting, right?"

[sinistral]

"I might be tempted to take you up on that," he replies, then frowns a little. "I do wonder if it would be tempting fate though. Can the Agrii observe us here? And if so, would they seek to remove such armaments from us?" And could they even do it? He doesn't want to find out the hard way.

"I mean," he says eventually, "what if we encounter hostile aliens we can only defeat by throwing things at them? It's an important survival skill."

[deal_me_in]

Cayde shrugs. "At this point it seems a given that we're being watched by someone. Given the panic the last mission caused, I'd like to think we earned some points in our favor for coming to the Agrii's aid and not killing anyone in the process. Seriously. Even I'm impressed with us on that last note. I was all ready to go on in, guns blazing."

How that metal face can make a convincing grin is anyone's guess, but it may as well be a default expression for how often the Exo manages it. "And it's important to keep up our skills at hand-eye coordination, right? Who knows, there might be some guys out there who will challenge us to a brutal game of dodge ball. Not that dodge ball isn't already brutal. You should see how the kids back at the Last City play, oh man."