futurology | Entries tagged with riza hawkeye (fullmetal alchemist)

[Haise has talked with several teammates about the lack of cohesion, and how difficult it is for all of them to coordinate. It was something he'd meant to discuss, or perhaps encourage others better suited, to bring up when they had some down-time. In the wake of a rather heated debate he chose to sat out on, he thinks maybe conversations about how they unify can't wait]

It seems that some of us may be feeling a little hot under the collar after recent events. Since I am an advocate for mercy, and am only alive because as much was extended to me when others may have argued against it, I don't want to touch on moral disagreements. Our stances will naturally differ, because our organization doesn't give us any unifying principles to abide by.

As a member of the CCG, I had very set guidelines to follow. Those weren't all things I agreed with, or felt right about. But they did maintain order, and did keep people safe. They made us an effective team, and more than once it's come up with colleagues here that we might benefit from that.

This was something I'd hoped might come up on Oska, when people had time to relax, but considering the circumstances...

Would any of you be interested in opening that discussion? That is, talking about our backgrounds, where we're coming from, and what we believe. If we start there, surely we can find a way to work together. If we're constantly at odds with one another, that isn't good for anyone. When I first joined, that division was certainly in place, but those I disagreed with still took the time to speak with me, and we did have common ground. I'd like to suggest that, as a team, we try to find that...for all our sakes.

Edit: Although I spoke of my own background in the example I provided, by no means am I suggesting that everyone do the same. Most importantly, we need to establish where we stand on issues we're often confronted with in our line of work. These things would inevitably show in our actions, so speaking on personal matters is not necessary for discussion.
What each of us believes and what course we're inclined to take is what I mean to inquire about.

[ooc: Naturally, thread-hop/jack as desired]

deemed

So we are to fight. [Odinson is freshly bathed, his hair tied back in a knot. There's a new light in his eyes at the promise of this. Killing robots is a task well-suited to him. This he can do.]

Being newly-come to this group, I know few of you, and few of you know me. I would know the skills and knowledge of those I will fight alongside. Or die alongside, if this enemy is truly so formidable. [The half-smile that follows indicates he doesn't quite believe that's a possibility.]

Myself, I am Odinson, of Asgardia, God of Thunder. [There's the slightest hesitation there, for anyone who'll notice such a thing. Something unsaid.] I have fought across the nine realms of my universe, and will fight here with hammer or blade or my fists until the enemy is routed or I am slain. If any wish to spar or learn to fight in the days before we are summoned to Oska, you have only to call on me.

Likewise, any tacticians or those with knowledge of Oska or the enemy, share your knowledge. We ought have some plan before we are shipped back. [Is that sarcasm???]

gutpunching

[To absolutely no one's surprise, Jason is not really a big team player when he's got a choice. But after some re-evaluation of where they stand and some gentle ("gentle") urging on Lucina's end, the network pings with a short call for volunteers. (The hard truth of it is he can't flat out count on himself to be reliable for very much longer. So, even more clipped than is characteristic—)]

If anyone's still interested in where Dr. Percy disappeared to, we could use a few more sets of eyes down in the sewers.

[What follows is a short attachment of information for interested parties. Including an image of an odd metal door with alien symbols on the combination lock, open to reveal a network of matching metal-plated tunnels. The coordinates one would need to find it in the sewers ping in soon after.

For those who need a little more context before volunteering, soon after the post hits, it gets a clarifying (and politer) addendum from Lucina.]

(OOC NOTE. Jason and Lucina have a (suspected) lead on Percy's hideout in the sewers but the maze of metal tunnels it's hidden in are too much for two people to cover, so it's time to alert the rest of the crew. Responses to this post may come from Lucina or Jason, BUT feel free to threadjack/use this post to plot if your characters are inclined to help and/or get info out in preparation for the 3/25 log.)

heelies

[There appears the grave countenance of Achilles, son of Peleus, his princely features marred by grief. His eyes are rimmed red and below them sink dark purple hollows. His beard is untrimmed and his golden curls, once long and flowing, hang choppy about his ears, hacked off by his own hand. Yet still he stands with shoulders squared and chin held high, as befits one who speaks before the assembly, and still his voice rolls forth like the iron-grey clouds that fill the sky before a storm falls.]

I come bearing unhappy news amidst a sea of unhappy news - but for me, no news could be more unbearable than this. An honorable man lies dead, overpowered in all his power, victim to one of the flesh-hungry who strike fear in the breast of this city. This was Menoetius' son Patroclus, my dear brother in arms...my partner in life. He was not long among this crew, and thus if you have no other cause for lament, then lament that you are robbed the opportunity to know him for a friend.

Yet now you might meet him through my words, I who have known him for the better part of my life and love him as I love my own life. Among the Achaeans there never was a kinder man: he cared more for the man beside him than for himself, and what he had he shared generously with friend and stranger alike. Almighty Zeus, bright-eyed Athena, and Apollo the lord of light always received supplication and libation enough from his hands. With so worthy a man gone down to the House of Hades, the country of the living is left far poorer.

In this nation flung so far from my fatherland, strange enough that the shores of windy Ilios seem almost friendly, I have not the riches I once possessed. I cannot give so grand a funeral as I would wish, as great-hearted Patroclus deserves, like that which I gave on the headland over the Hellespont. There a thousand men harnessed in bronze bore the son of Menoetius to his pyre, each one's heart filled with a dirge, while my deathless mother and all of the daughters of Nereus rose from the sea wailing and beating their breasts - but who in this land shall mourn him so? The honors I heap upon him here shall be only a pale shadow of all that he is worth, and for this my grief grows twofold.

If you have any respect for the dead and for the laws decreed by the gods, then hear my plea. A pyre must be built that my dear friend may pass proper into the House of Hades. At present he wanders lost by death's gates, the Acheron's distant shore far out of reach. How can I rest while he who is dearest to me suffers unwearying? Thus, his pyre must be built today. There is more than space enough in Oakwood Park, which lies to the west. I need strong men to stack the timbers, whatever wood can be found, and others to assist in the slaughter of the oxen, that the rich blood may make sacred the flame. None need worry about drawing the curious eyes of the Woodhurstians, for Sieglinde the Green Witch shall shield the area from sight by her clever magic.

All who come to honor Menoetius' gallant son are welcome to feast afterward. To fill my stomach when my heart is so empty is hateful to me, but what food and wine I have I shall freely share with any who proves a friend to my dear companion even in death.

[CLIFFS NOTES VERSION: His not-at-all-platonic life partner is dead (again), so anyone who lends a hand in performing Ancient Greek funeral practices shall be fed a hearty dinner of oxen kebabs. I will post a log for the funeral this weekend, but that will mostly provide narrative for the various rituals and handle the aftermath. You are more than welcome to assume your character's involvement there or in the feast that follows. If you have any questions or would like to plot, please PM this journal or find me on Discord at aristosachaion#4902!

EDIT 3/15: I have come down with a fever and am slightly dying, but nevertheless I will do my best to persist in answering these tags. Sorry for the delay!]

grunehexe

This is Sieglinde Sullivan, the Green Witch.

I shall not waste my time or yours with much pleasantries. The situation is dire, as you know.

Several of our number have been working tirelessly to develop a vaccine to this virus, and hopefully a cure.

Tests of the vaccine are proceeding smoothly, and we have seen positive results so far- it may be available within one or two weeks time if all continues to go well and no adverse effects present themselves.

I cannot guarantee nor estimate potential cures, and it is not my intent to elevate your hopes, but know that we have several leads we are exploring. Samples of blood, particularly from those of the non-humans within our ranks who are or may be immune to the virus, are much needed at this time if you have not already been solicited.

To protect against the possibility of contamination, four of us have set up in separate locations.

Urahara Kisuke, in the hospital laboratories. Peter Parker, in the university laboratories. Sonia Nevermind, at her apartment residence, 20B of Woodhurst Court. I myself have relocated from the hospital to a residential office, at 45 Pinehurst Drive.

Samples or supplies are welcome there. The others may speak for themselves, but in my case, I will not tolerate any distractions or intrusions, so please do not abuse the knowledge of that address.

[ooc; just a note from some of the Team Science members so that characters can have a better IC idea of what's going down on that front! Stay tuned for more OOC and IC info on/near the 25th!]

competing

[With all the information coming out, it's apparent to Keith and Lance that one big elephant in the room has been ignored: the infection among the recruits themselves. Keith is tired and on edge, as he needs nothing to do with the infection to be cranky. Lance is jittery, too. But they have to talk about that elephant before it gets too late.

And for some of them, it might be. That's what Keith is really afraid of right now.]

Hey. It's Keith.

and ya boy, lance! [Because things are already pretty doom and gloom as it stands, and maybe things could use a little lightening up? Or something...

It’s a little more difficult to differentiate between people in a group message like this, but it’s a better idea to get something down on text in case they need to refer to it later, and anyone who knows either of the boys can probably tell them apart pretty easily through diction alone.]

we know your mind-phones have been pretty busy lately, but theres something keith and i wanted to talk to you guys about.

Before we get a move on in attacking Zymandis' agent, we need to look at our own numbers. A lot of us are sick. Maybe less than I thought. Or maybe more. Either way, we have to know who's sick and make a plan to help our own. And I'm serious about HELPING. Not putting someone out of their misery or any of the other stupid stuff I've heard from some of this team. We need to stop this disease. We need to help our own. Once everyone's BETTER, we'll make a plan for what to do next as a team.

[It's harsher than necessary but likely less harsh than how it might be normally, given Keith's frequently frustrated tone of voice. Text mitigates some of it, even if his frustration definitely does become CAPITAL LETTERS.

Lance, meanwhile, is quite eager to gloss over that sharp reprimand because seriously guys — kumbaya.]

yeeeeeah, so — helping! getting a head count is definitely ideal. we cant afford to be silent on this and we definitely CANT be alone right now, cuz every one of us affected and on our own can be a huge risk to everyone here. so we were thinking… since the city shut it down, we can use the middle school. those of us infected can stay there while we wait for our people to find that cure. like a quarantine safe house.. i know its not ideal, but its something. especially for those who dont have any other contingency plans.

[A pause. Well. May as well get the ball rolling, right?]

ill be there.

( ooc; p.s. there is an information plotting post for the quarantine space! )

cachemoney

[Fiona is a little out of breath, like she just hustled very quickly away from somewhere. Which she did, but that's neither here nor there. The background behind her is some innocuous wood panelling; she's in a house.]

Okay. So. Crunch time. Things are getting nuts out there, if you didn't notice. We are gonna wind up super screwed if we don't hop to figuring out what the hell to do.

[She holds up a vial. It has some alien writing on it, as well as a familiar symbol on the label.]

We found this inside the hospital. A shit-ton of them, actually. So who wants to find out what Zymandis asshole is responsible for this mess and beat an antidote out of them?

[ ooc. PS, maya, hanzo, and mccree might show up in your threads. feel free to threadjack as well! ]

pummelling

[The magitek's pulled back far enough to feature not one, but two members of Audentes... or, rather, one of them striving vainly to nudge his teammate out of the feed. It's the tail end of the struggle, though, and Kung Jin is fighting a losing battle. It takes half a second for Asher Millstone to shove his way into view, taking up half of the screen and speaking up before Jin can truly get a word in.

The law student looks more excited than ever when he starts speaking, and even lifts his arms above his head in a “raise the roof” sort of gesture.]

It’s time to get wiggity wiggity whack, yo!

Don't. [He nearly slaps a hand over his friend's mouth, but reconsiders, elbowing him back instead.] So, Audentes. Since we're almost all set to leave on our next assignment, it's come to our attention that not everyone here is from a world that people like Asher or I consider "modern day".

Whoa, you? Wait a minute. Last I checked, there was nothing normal about you, man. People in your world, like, rip dudes’ spines out through their mouths and crap!

[After he says this, Asher immediately turns from Jin back to the camera, and waves his hands emphatically in its general direction.]

Don’t try that.

[Jin casts a dubious glance at Asher and moves right along in spite of all the interruptions.]

Even if you look the part, you’ve still got to play the part, too. If you're looking for any advice or tips to blend in properly on-planet, we’re pretty much experts-- so let us know if you need a hand.

[The paler of the two pops up right behind him, leaning on the other’s shoulder.]

That’s right, baby! We’ll teach you how to be 90s.

heelies

[As when storm-bruised clouds cast their dark pall over the sky, a harbinger of the torrent and tempest to come, so appears the countenance of Peleus' son. He is harnessed in the glorious armor that lame-foot Hephaestus did forge for him, and upon his head fiercely glints the golden helmet which once served as a beacon to the Myrmidons and all of the vast host of war-loving Argives. Like the thunder that is hurled by almighty Zeus who bears the aegis, his voice roars out over the network.]

Koltira, you whose heart is blackened with vile hatred! Hear now the son of Peleus, Achilles, best of all the Achaeans - I whose pride was rent by your blade when you did raise arms without first issuing a proper challenge as is honorable between warriors. I demand that you meet me in single combat, that I may avenge myself and slake my spear upon your blood. Meet me then to the east of the town ere the sun touches the far horizon, where it settles for the night into the couch of the desert - unless the worm of cowardice burrows deep within your breast to weaken your fighting spirit!

It is for this reason that I give my challenge in this public forum, that others may bear witness and hold you accountable to this duel. What say you, Koltira? Recoil not from the bloodshed you so take pleasure in! Long has my anger rankled in my breast, and long has my pride festered without salve potent enough to soothe it, for the cure lies only in victory by dint of my spear. Thus, today I wait no more!

[In the colloquialisms of the locals: This town ain't big enough for the both of us.]

respired

[ Koltira sits in a comfortable albeit sparsely furnished room, on the edge of a neatly made bed. There's someone sitting with him, but only her hand--slim fingers clasped in his, gold bracelets on her wrist--is visible. He looks to her for a second, his expression briefly unsure, and his long ears twitch at her inaudible (but presumably encouraging) reply.

He clears his throat. ]

Some of you already know this, but I'm told it would be best if I shared the information broadly.

[ He has doubts, but what Olivia wants, Olivia gets.

Koltira raises his free hand. Purplish-black shadows engulf it, shimmering darkly, writhing around his palm. He repeats what he has said to Sieglinde, to Princess Sonia. ]

Those who stand with me do not fall. If you perish in battle--against these slugs or otherwise--I can restore you to life.

[ He makes a fist, and the shadows dissipate. ]

It is a true resurrection, but there are caveats. Firstly, I must reach you quickly. Preferably within a day's time. Second, the process is unpleasant. You will suffer pain, and you will be sick. Likely for almost a week afterwards. Third, it is not guaranteed. Occasionally the Light decrees that our time has come, and the spirit cannot be reunited with the body.

[ Koltira shifts on the bed. The thick duvet is cream-colored, red-checked. Homey. He seems to be in the guest room of a farm house.

Olivia squeezes his hand. ]

This is not an invitation to be reckless. It is merely a safeguard against catastrophe.

[ He pauses, as though thinking about what else to add. His expression goes slightly sour. ]

Again, I stress: it is a true resurrection. You will not be as I am. You will be whole, and you will be hale, once you recover from the trauma of the process.

[ He has the ability to bring them back as undead, of course. He could make them as he is, he could turn them to ghouls. But he wouldn't. Not ever. ]

Still. Try to stay alive.

araigneedusoir

[She's been listening and watching more than actively participating as of late, so this is her first real time addressing the network as a whole since she joined up. She's away from the group -- but not far, as evidenced by the layout of Perdition's Rest visible behind her -- and high up, obviously keeping watch.

Someone has to.

It takes her a few seconds to gather her thoughts fully, having been mulling over all the information that's come to light...and various people's opinions on what they should do next. Of course that's not her topic of discussion, at least not yet.]

I know I wasn't the only one looking for answers after the Saloon burned down. I'm curious to know if anyone else found or heard anything interesting.

[She holds up a shard of glass she'd found in her search -- the bowl she'd discovered as well has been left with the Sheriff for safe keeping, all she wanted was a single piece -- balancing it between two of her fingers.]

This is a piece of a glass bowl that I found hidden under the beds in the employee quarters. [Though she spent the entire time in there worried something was going to fall apart on her.] According to the Good Sheriff she found one of these bowls outside the church around the time the late Reverend left to join the Deemers. The glass itself isn't something the Qorral use in their everyday life, which means it potentially has connections to the Taraxa.

[With that she carefully slips the shard of glass into the pouch she'd been keeping it in.]

forcevisions

[ Everyone's camping. That's fun, isn't it? Well, before people get ahead of themselves, there's some more news that's waiting. Following Keith and Rey's conversation—and Keith being set right about their shared misconceptions thanks to some clarifications from ALASTAIR—they've finally regrouped enough for … this. If you've ever wondered how good Keith is at sharing information, it's probably along the lines of "not good."

So, this should be good, basically. (At least he has Rey to back him up.)

The two of them are sitting side by side on the outskirts of camp so that they can make their announcement undisturbed. Keith's sporting a warmer jacket and Rey was all but swallowed in the hood of her ALASTAIR uniform, which fit ill now in the light of the doubts that the holodisc shed on them.

After a beat of them … sitting there, Keith awkwardly clears his throat in what sounds like an ineffectual manner: ]

Uh, hey. We have something to tell you all today. [ A beat. Another beat. He glances toward Rey, as if he suddenly feels like she's the one who should talk.

While Rey clearly doesn’t appreciate the hand-off, her shoulders rustling as she composes herself, she can’t deny the responsibility. She directs her gaze towards him for a moment, wrestling with something, before she relents. ]

I made a mistake. [ It seems the simplest place to start when most of them had seen precisely what happened with the Reverend. ] We need to make sure that none of you repeat it. When I killed … [ She can’t muster that admission, not properly, not in this context. So she starts again. ] When the Reverend died, something came out of him. Some kind of parasite.

[ Right, he knows Rey's body language enough to realize where he should probably help. If if were anyone else, that might not be the case, but somehow, they've become friends. It's an odd thing for him, and when she finishes speaking, he preps himself. All right, he can do this. He can do this. ]

The parasite is called the Taraxa. I didn't get a chance to look at a holodisc I found until after the fighting war over, and um, I'm sorry for not coming forward sooner. We wanted to check back with ALASTAIR first. [ He pauses here, but briefly. ]

Anyway, the Taraxa are supposed to be a peaceful group now. They've worked with ALASTAIR via some temporary hosts as spies, but obviously, none of us would call the Deemers peaceful. Rey and I don't know what happened, or if these are some … special branch that decided to go rogue. I don't know. But I think we've got a bigger mess to deal with here than just the mines and mining. [ He offers Rey a brief glance. Keith can't even begin to guess what the Deemers are really doing. He can't. But between the fires and disappearances, he figures they can't just ignore this. ]

They’re also supposed to have hosts that they build instead of steal, but that’s obviously not the case. It’s possible but dangerous to communicate with them because they follow a hivemind they consider their Mother, which is red instead of ... [ Grimly, she raises the dessicated carcass of the beige slug she’d evinced from the Reverend’s corpse. It seemed an odd thing, now, to hold onto it like some kind of trophy, but she hadn’t been ready to let it go, as if holding onto the horror of what she had done. ] Though there’s no clear way to tell when you’re dealing with a Mother while she’s in a host, as far as I can tell.

Until we know more, travel in pairs, and try to avoid lethal force; the Deemers aren’t acting of their own free will.

Or … their hosts aren't, anyway. I guess it's really the same thing, huh? Most importantly, if you have a way of scanning people's brains, let us know. It wasn't clear in the file how to stop them exactly, but heat and salt seem like our best bets. Uh, death and decapitation work, too, but I think we're gonna try to avoid that from now on.

[ Sulky silence quieted Rey, on that note, and she ended the transmission abruptly. ]

[ ooc; if it isn't clear, Rey and Keith. ]

whatshimadayou

It is my understanding that we were gathered to function as a team. A concept that is, perhaps, difficult for many of us to become accustomed to, but a path we have had no choice but to take in any case.

Yet here we are, already faced with danger enough from our missions, and we are equally forced to fear one of our own as well?

Explain to me why we should endure the presence of a monster who cannot keep his nature in check. How many were injured by Koltira's hand, yet all of us remain silent.

daimeinashi

[Sai hasn't entirely worked out how to use this whole magic jewelry network thing yet, but the thought-typing is relatively straightforward enough. So:]

is it truly wise to be rescuing the qorral ?
should a significant number of them perish, it will be far easier to complete our secondary mission of stopping the mining efforts

pummelling

[With only vague recollections of his child self and even vaguer ones of his teenage self leftover from that last unfortunate week, Kung Jin's stopped being so concerned about what might've happened then. He can't control it, after all, and what (unsalvageable) damage could he have even done to anybody as a teen punk? It's fine. It's totally fine. Yup.

Onto now. He's trained alone as much as he can stand, nearly as much as he'd done during those years at the Wu Shi Academy, even; hung around the library longer than he could stand, and without falling off any bookshelves this time, too; loitered his way across as much of the castle and grounds that he could get to and then some. With all of that done, then, Jin has settled into something much more dangerous: boredom.

He talks a lot, when he's bored. For an opinionated jerk with a tendency to run his mouth, this is never a good sign.]

Let me get this straight.

[The magitek's feed'll treat viewers to the sight of a dark-haired young man seated on the foot of the bed in his quarters, clad in ALASTAIR's uniform and idly polishing an ornate staff with a cloth as he ~~complains~~ speaks.]

ALASTAIR picks up a whole crop of new recruits. Out of the multiverse, as you do. They're supposed to give us the rundown on this timeline stabilizing thing, except their translators are busted-- so they make their old recruits run the welcome wagon. Then we get a big ol' bug infestation, and, what d'you know! All of us recruits are the ones playing exterminator, while some of us are reliving the total joys of puberty for days at a time. And we still haven't seen anywhere else except this castle.

Anybody else beginning to see a pattern here? [He tosses the dropcloth aside so he can focus on rolling his eyes for the camera.] Yeah. Some saving worlds we're handling: all we're doing for them is the chores they're too lazy to do themselves. How much you bet all our rocket ships break down when we're about to fly off to that Q-65 dustball? And that we have to wash and wax all their hulls, too? I swear, I'm gonna quit.

[you cant tho jin... but okay.]

I mean, I've had a lot of bad gigs in my life, but... yikes. This is just embarrassing.

boneafide

[The video starts up, and look! IIt's Papyrus, back to normal and definitely not a traumatized king!

To those who have never seen him before, well… He's a skeleton!! A very loud one. He's shouting while gesturing grandly to himself when he starts:]

HELLO, EVERYONE! IT IS I, THE GREAT PAPYRUS!!

Now, you may think to yourself, "WHAT HAVE I DONE TODAY TO BE BLESSED WITH A VIDEO OF THE GREAT PAPYRUS??" The answer is simple!! Be here and have magic jewelry!!

"BUT WAIT!!" You wonder!! "WHY HAS HE DECIDED TO GRACE ME WITH HIS PRESENCE!!" Another simple answer!! I've decided I'm going to teach those here who don't know what certain things are what they are!!

[Starting with the kitchen, Papyrus points at the large refrigerator.]

This is a refrigerator! Also known as a "fridge!" You put food inside of it, and it keeps it cold so you can eat it later!

[To demonstrate the point, he opens the fridge, and inside are six containers all with the word SPAGHET written on them, in Papyrus' hand writing.]

-And before you ask why you would want cold food… you don't! Unless it's meant to be cold. But then you just take it out, put it in the oven or boil it, and it's good to eat again! Usually I use a microwave, but sometimes nothing beats a good ol' bucket of oven-heated pasta!!

Next we have… cameras!!

[And with that, Papyrus holds up a cute looking instant polaroid camera.]

With this, you can take a picture of something, and it prints it out on paper you can keep! I'd demonstrate, but this is Olivia's, not mine. People use it to take pictures of their friends or themselves, so you can always relive the memories of the past!! Unless you want to forget them, in which case, do NOT get a camera, and instead get alcohol!!

Moving on to this!!

[It's deodorant.]

EVERYONE WHO ISN'T USING THIS, NEEDS TO USE THIS.

[One brief moment of staring hard at the communicator later, he continues.]

Now, there's many, many, many, many, many…. many things I still need to go over, so listen up!!

[He turns his communication jewelry to face down at the pile of "modern" objects he's collected in front of him. Said pile includes things like:

a cellphone, a selfie-stick, a scrap of paper with the word "ANIME" on it, an umbrella, hair curlers and straighteners, an mp3 player, a box of spaghetti, and various drawings of things like cars, televisions, airplanes, to name a few.

Perhaps your character even sees something there not listed… ]

Anything you see here, you can ask about, and I will explain it to you!! I will be your educational guide to the future and wonder of modern technology!!

flashbanging

[ Having seen off his squidge into the wild blue yonder of this planet, Jesse reckons it's at last time for him to truly enjoy a guilt-free smoke. He's sitting by a clear, bubbling stream, legs stretched out, bionic hand draped over one knee. He's got a fresh cigarillo--one of his last--in his good hand, and he's grinning like the cat who ate the canary. ]

Hey, y'all. Them ALASTAIR folks made me magic.

[ He obviously thinks this is one of the greatest things that's ever happened to him. He pulls off his glove--there's a flash of a tattoo on his inner wrist, something vaguely skull-shaped--and he pops the cigarillo into his mouth. He arches both eyebrows in a 'Check this out' kind of way as he touches his index finger to the tip of the cigarillo, which ignites shortly thereafter. Jesse puffs, exhaling a cloud of rich, hazy smoke. ]

Fine as frog hair split three ways.

[ Puff. ]

'Course, I know it ain't nothin' compared to a lot of you, but I don't got much personal experience with makin' things happen just by thinking on em real hard. And speaking of ...

[ He flexes his good arm, wincing slightly. He drawls, his warm tones turned sheepish. ]

Turns out, wrestlin' with bonafide Greek god-damn legends wasn't the greatest idea I ever had. My muscles are still screaming something awful. I'd be much obliged if one of you would take a look. Especially if you got those healing hands.

[ He settles back on the grass, smoking the cigarillo, and reaches to adjust his serape--but his fingers glow magma red. A second later, the serape starts to hiss and burn. ]

Ah--damn it--not again--

[ As the image cuts, he's diving for that stream. ]

diablejambe

[The video opens to a curious little squidge face. At least before he's being picked up placed pointedly on a rock next to a scowling Sanji. There's some muttered grumbling (and a quick wrestling match) between father-figure and squidge as Emergency Rations 2 decides he's not done trying to steal center stage, but it eventually ends with Sanji quite literally drop kicking the armor-plated little brat to the side before turning and giving the broadcast a quick wave.]

Yo, Audentes.

Since it looks like we're almost at the final stop, I have something to propose: [He holds up a finger, grinning around the unlit cigarette in his mouth.] a feast. We've put up with these brats for too long, we all deserve something. And I know some of you idiots probably still haven't adjusted to a vegetarian diet. [Here's looking at you, Monkey D. Luffy.]

Once our group gets to the endpoint, I'll be setting up a few things. So if you have any supplies you want to hand over, I'll make something from them. [He pauses, smirks, and leans towards the jewel.] And if any other cook thinks they can keep up, I won't say no to extra hands.

Let me know if you're planning on bringing anything in particular or have any dietary needs. [There's a quick flash of blue, and Sanji's scowling down at his squidge again-- the damn troublemaker's managed to climb back up and is reaching for the broadcasting ring. Again.] Oi, you shitty cabbage, don't tou--

[Aaaaand that's the end of that.]

selfimage

[ the sound of the wind storm hollows dully against the cave walls. Loki's squidge, Bacon, can half be seen crawling in the confines of his tacky green jacket and over his knee from where he sits, sometimes ducking and squeaking when a particularly large gust hits. to keep it from screaming, Loki offers his fingers absently, which the little squidge pulls on with its pudgy arms before ducking low again. ]

Hello there, it seems like we'll be waiting this out for some time considering the weather-type circumstances. While we're all rotting away, etcetera etcetera, I thought we could amuse ourselves with a game. A little bit of team bonding funtimes, so to say. [ he twists a dark nailed hand in the air, gesturing. ]

Soo—oo ... it's called Two Truths and a Lie. How do you play? Glad you asked, it's simple! Give two true statements about yourself and add a lie to the mix, shake it up then toss it out there and see if your team members know you well enough to spot the lie.

Usually this is done with copious amounts of alcohol, but we're lacking at the moment. [ pause. ] But—ah—you could always enjoy the satisfaction of being right. It's not like we're doing much else.

NOTE | Feel free to threadjack if that's your thing!! :****

strictdiscipline

[Instead of any person, the scene presently on the screen is of a backpack lying in the snow, overflowing with child leashes in a variety of different colors and patterns. The voice that pipes up has about as much warmth as the chill tundra wind and is just loud enough to cut through the continued wailing of infant squidges nearby.]

It appears that some of our superiors question our ability to properly watch over these small creatures.

[Though if the delivery was sent in earnest rather than as a practical joke, she can't say she disagrees with the assessment, at least not with regards to a certain subsection of Team Audentes. (Fortune might favor the bold, but it certainly won't favor anyone lacking basic common sense as far as she's concerned.)

Regardless, she presses on.]

While I should hope that none of you will need one at the moment [judging u if you put a leash on ur infant squidge tbh] some of you may find them necessary at a later point in this mission. There seem to be enough for each recruit to have one.

[Unfortunately.

A brief pause follows, enough time for a resigned sigh.]

With that said, if you are concerned about caring for a living being, I'm sure there are several of us willing to provide advice.

(ooc: i bought a bunch of child leashes as an ac reward as i was completely out of ideas, feel free to handwave your character grabbed one.)

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