Зимний солдат (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
reconstitution) wrote in ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png)
driftfleet2016-06-07 10:54 pm
reconstitution) wrote in driftfleet2016-06-07 10:54 pm
I came in like a wreeeeecking ball!
Who: Winter & You (poor bastards)
Broadcast: n/a
Action: Iskaulit
When: early am
[ OOC Note: This thread is mainly for closed CR, though new people who want to thread with Winter are willing to participate. Just keep in mind that the end results are predetermined! Personal threads won't be dependent on one another, but if you have any questions about anything, send me a pm or catch me at![[plurk.com profile]](https://plurk.com/favicon.ico)
skorozima on plurk. This is a mod-approved augment glitch, the effects of which will only last briefly.
**Content of thread may hold Civil War compliant material, reader and participator be warned!** ]
[ Beginning;; Meditation Room ]
[ It's early morning, not that it's easy to tell with the endless expanse of starlight outside of every window. Winter finds himself wandering into the mediation room after his morning workout. There's been a general sense of unease that he's been carrying for the past few days, though nothing has appeared out of the ordinary.
It's different than the hyper vigilance he normally suffers from, like a whisper no one else seems to hear. Grabbing one of the cushions, he sits at the far end of the room with his back to the wall. His legs are crossed, hands settling on his legs. A deep, focused breath inwards, held for just a moment before it is exhaled through his nose. This is only the third time he's come to this room on his own, and he really is trying to make it a part of his day. It's still difficult.
Things are silent, save for the normal creaks and groans of the Iskaulit. His head isn't buzzing with activity, and he's almost calm.
Longing.
The word reverberates sharply in his mind, causing his eyes to snap open in search of the voice. There's no one else around, yet the sweet, crooning lilt sounded like it came from right next to him. His heart is pounding against his rib cage.
Rusted.
Winter jerks almost violently. No no no no. Not here. How? his hands slam up to his ears to block the voice out, and the noise in his head increases.
The voice is just as melodious and clear, somehow more prominent, now. A few more words are spoken so sweetly, even as he writhes on the floor with an angry howl. There's no way for it to stop.
Trying to concuss himself doesn't work. The voice sounds almost chiding for his poor attempt.
Then the words stop. Everything stops. And then,
Good morning, Soldier. ]
«Ready to comply.»
[ His limbs feel heavy, but he listens intently for the voice to give him his new mission. The Soldier is ready.
Let's get started, shall we?
Anyone who happens upon Winter in this state will be aware of a few things that are off. His stare is vacant and unsettling; those who met him his first week on the fleet will recognize it. It's certainly not the expression of someone who means you no ill-will. Winter's posture is aggressive and strained like a tightly drawn bow ready to snap. Any sort of verbal greeting is met with silence. ]
[ Middle;; Hallways ]
[ Whoever crosses paths with Winter in the halls is bound to have heard the commotion coming from the Meditation Room. Perhaps one of the unlucky ones made a fleetwide broadcast calling for backup?
Whatever you were doing, you're not going to be getting very far. He clenches his metal fist, the plates shifting to accommodate the movement. His eyes are locked, harmful intent in his expression.
You're next. Be prepared to fight for your life. ]
[ End;; Gym ]
[ While he's done a great deal of damage, he's not looking so hot, himself. At this point, Winter has collected a great deal of injury, though he doesn't seem to notice or even care. There is a mission. It must be completed at all costs..
Even if the metal of his left arm is warped, almost decayed and rusted in appearance. It hangs lifelessly at his side, fingers stuck in a half curled position. He's sporting a gunshot wound in his thigh and his abdomen, still oozing stubbornly. There are a few broken ribs, but that doesn't seem to slow down his rampage much.
At least this way, he'll be easier to subdue. Maybe all he needs is a little cognitive re-calibration. ]
Broadcast: n/a
Action: Iskaulit
When: early am
[ OOC Note: This thread is mainly for closed CR, though new people who want to thread with Winter are willing to participate. Just keep in mind that the end results are predetermined! Personal threads won't be dependent on one another, but if you have any questions about anything, send me a pm or catch me at
**Content of thread may hold Civil War compliant material, reader and participator be warned!** ]
[ Beginning;; Meditation Room ]
[ It's early morning, not that it's easy to tell with the endless expanse of starlight outside of every window. Winter finds himself wandering into the mediation room after his morning workout. There's been a general sense of unease that he's been carrying for the past few days, though nothing has appeared out of the ordinary.
It's different than the hyper vigilance he normally suffers from, like a whisper no one else seems to hear. Grabbing one of the cushions, he sits at the far end of the room with his back to the wall. His legs are crossed, hands settling on his legs. A deep, focused breath inwards, held for just a moment before it is exhaled through his nose. This is only the third time he's come to this room on his own, and he really is trying to make it a part of his day. It's still difficult.
Things are silent, save for the normal creaks and groans of the Iskaulit. His head isn't buzzing with activity, and he's almost calm.
Longing.
The word reverberates sharply in his mind, causing his eyes to snap open in search of the voice. There's no one else around, yet the sweet, crooning lilt sounded like it came from right next to him. His heart is pounding against his rib cage.
Rusted.
Winter jerks almost violently. No no no no. Not here. How? his hands slam up to his ears to block the voice out, and the noise in his head increases.
The voice is just as melodious and clear, somehow more prominent, now. A few more words are spoken so sweetly, even as he writhes on the floor with an angry howl. There's no way for it to stop.
Trying to concuss himself doesn't work. The voice sounds almost chiding for his poor attempt.
Then the words stop. Everything stops. And then,
Good morning, Soldier. ]
«Ready to comply.»
[ His limbs feel heavy, but he listens intently for the voice to give him his new mission. The Soldier is ready.
Let's get started, shall we?
Anyone who happens upon Winter in this state will be aware of a few things that are off. His stare is vacant and unsettling; those who met him his first week on the fleet will recognize it. It's certainly not the expression of someone who means you no ill-will. Winter's posture is aggressive and strained like a tightly drawn bow ready to snap. Any sort of verbal greeting is met with silence. ]
[ Middle;; Hallways ]
[ Whoever crosses paths with Winter in the halls is bound to have heard the commotion coming from the Meditation Room. Perhaps one of the unlucky ones made a fleetwide broadcast calling for backup?
Whatever you were doing, you're not going to be getting very far. He clenches his metal fist, the plates shifting to accommodate the movement. His eyes are locked, harmful intent in his expression.
You're next. Be prepared to fight for your life. ]
[ End;; Gym ]
[ While he's done a great deal of damage, he's not looking so hot, himself. At this point, Winter has collected a great deal of injury, though he doesn't seem to notice or even care. There is a mission. It must be completed at all costs..
Even if the metal of his left arm is warped, almost decayed and rusted in appearance. It hangs lifelessly at his side, fingers stuck in a half curled position. He's sporting a gunshot wound in his thigh and his abdomen, still oozing stubbornly. There are a few broken ribs, but that doesn't seem to slow down his rampage much.
At least this way, he'll be easier to subdue. Maybe all he needs is a little cognitive re-calibration. ]
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Human emotions lead to fatal mistake. ]
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It doesn't stop him for long, and he hoists himself to his feet, cold, emotionless gaze locked on the woman again. He tilts his head to the right and left, cracking his neck before he stalks forward with murderous intent in his stride. ]
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[The call goes through, but she doesn't have time to talk to Vision. He'll probably figure it out anyway. She drops the comm and stumbles backwards her hands still up.]
Winter, I know this ain't you... I don't... I don't know what they did to you but you don't want to hurt me, we're friends, remember?
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