driftfleet | (no subject)

Who: Zhas and whoever wants in on this grumpy trainwreck.
Broadcast: None probably.
Action: All day every day.
When: Forward dated to the dust moon because SOMEONE (me) can't be patient.

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[gunning for the prestigious "first asshole to get irresponsibly drunk as soon as they land" award, there's this guy. he doesn't normally do this kind of thing, but it's been a spectacularly harrowing six months or so. he landed, took one look at this tiny town, and thought, "Nope. Not going to participate."

he has since been working hard to remove himself from the responsibility of being a functioning human being. is this a good idea? of course not. but he has reasons and he has a gnawing evil in his chest, and he'd love for one of them to just shut up for a while.

so, acquaintances will be surprised to find him out in the late evening, dressed up like a normal person and not covered in face paint. his eyes still have kind of a dim orange glow to them, but genetics can't be helped. anyone, friend or stranger, is welcome to find him either:

a. in the process of getting drunk (at the bar, hunched grumpily over his glass of bourbon)
b. getting into a fight (because the other guy... something... doesn't really matter anyway)
c. wandering the town streets (uncoordinated, content, and oblivious to a bad nosebleed)

on the bright side, the ratings he'll get from this will probably pay for his bar tab.]

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[the question was kind of vague because Zhas doesn't exactly know what he wants to ask. he doesn't like any of this necromancy stuff. Coil's a big exception, but he still frowns on his creepy magic most of the time.

tonight, though, he's interested. and still kind of drunk. he tries to clarify.

'You magicked a chicken and a vampire, before. What are you doing now?']

Edited 2015-10-06 04:24 (UTC)

[the rise of his eyebrows says 'oh.' and he still seems a little suspicious about Zhas' questioning, judging by the way he hesitates before finally thinking of something to answer with.

'rebuilding,' he explains. and it is not a very sure sign. he kind of shrugs afterward.]

[oh, yeah, that kind of makes sense. he slides down against the bar a little.

'No, no, no. I want to help.']

Edited (lord stick finish your html tags) 2015-10-06 05:21 (UTC)

[he frowns a little bit, thinking carefully about this. maybe being stuck in the middle of a judgmental swarm of people has made him even more paranoid. he gives Zhas a long glance, before sliding his gaze away so he can think over the little details--all the pros and cons of this.

...but he's been drinking, so that really doesn't last very long.

he eventually just kind of droops down to match Zhas.]

[welcome to "closer to the table", Coil. he pulls his water a little closer, getting dangerously close to brushing face paint against his arm. he tries to explain with one hand, but eventually brings in the other hand to help.

'I don't like things like that, but it may be--important? Here.' Gesturing widely, for this whole... Space thing. Like what they talked about up on top of the ship, that day. 'Right now we just have you and me, so if you want help, I'll help.']

[he looks just tired and spaced-out for a minute, like he may not even have caught all of whatever Zhas had been signing.

he's thinking, though. it's just way deep in his head, and a little slowed down, while the rest of him buzzes in neutrality.

when he finally starts to explain, it's hesitant and stilted, because when was the last time he'd had to try to find signs for any of this.

'I'm behind.' --as in not-caught-up. it's a different arrangement of gestures from the literal word. 'I owe a lot.']