driftfleet | One fish, two fish...

a) outside his room

[So all that moping? DONE. Sort of. Well, now he's angry. And grumpy as hell. There is a new sign on Arthur's room, carefully penned in dark lettering: "KEEP OUT". If that's not crazy off-putting, feel free to knock or try to weasel in. Although he's coming out of his room right now, carrying a pile of dishes. Does he have stubble? He does. And he's wearing sweats and a t-shirt. He doesn't see your character though, as he's turning into them with his pile of dishes.]

b) cargo hold

[He's been working out for a couple hours now, not heeding his right arm very well. Punching a punching bag with your non-dominant hand? Weird. But he's doing it. Viciously. He's worked himself into a furious mood, and he's probably tearing up his knuckles. He stops to take a drink of water, and sits down on the weight bench, quieter now. What now?]

[ooc: Feel free to interrupt prompts at any point! I apologize in advance for his manpain.]

a) on the bridge

[so, the crew's recently discovered that the comms have been bugged with some kind of... scrambling device? Zhas understands basic wiring and knows his way around mechanics, but this thing way beyond his realm of knowledge.

while people are around, the enigmatic skull-faced man gives his opinion from the corner skulking place where he'd been quietly observing:]

We should smash it.

b) cargo bay

[he hasn't been taking the recent drama very well. the last time someone close to him was killed, he stopped talking for a decade and devoted his life to the destruction of all undead. it's kind of a wonder that he hasn't done something stupid in a fit of anger already.

because he is angry. disgusted. guilty. there's a horrible gnashing thing in his chest and all it wants is to sink its teeth in and tear something apart. and anger is a defense mechanism; it turns the hurt out on other people. it sends the wolf to gnaw on something else for a change.

he's trying to burn some of it off in the cargo bay, smashing that poor, beat-up punching bag with bare-knuckle fists. he fights like that all the time, and his hide is tough as nails, but he's still been at it long enough to start splitting his skin and bruising his poor, neglected joints.

he looks pissed. his orange eyes are especially bright in the dim light here, and he sure as hell hasn't taken his facepaint off. he doesn't stop until he manages to knock the back off its hook--and even then, his only rest comes as he trudges forward to drag the stand-in target back up for another beating.]

c) the lab

[he hangs out in the lab a lot because Coil works there... and this time he's sitting on the table, maybe waiting for said one-eyed friend to come back and take a look at his busted fingers. his focus isn't in the room, however. he looks distant, checked-out. someone could walk in quietly and he may not even notice.

he's holding his personal communicator in his lap. it's playing some audio recording, though the volume is pretty low. it sounds like a woman... humming, or maybe singing? her voice wanders through snippets of old songs and sounds that aren't quite words, like a lullaby heard through the filter of a dream.]

Edited 2016-08-04 05:31 (UTC)

[that poor punching bag. it's been sewn up a couple of times before the recent tragedy... we can only hope it survives the rest of the week, at this rate...

Zhas is in a bad mood before he gets there, but once he sees Arthur already punching the crap out of the bag he'd been looking forward to knocking around? kind of makes him think about using Arthur himself as a replacement.

instead, he glares, growls unfriendly-like, and walks along the wall to go set down his bag of stuff. he's dressed in a t-shirt and jeans, but still wearing that weird, scary skull face-paint.]

[Zhas is probably the only person that could actually pull off growling. Still, it ticks him off instead of scaring him. He wipes off his face on the inside of his t-shirt, watching Zhas as he walks along the wall. He lets out an angry gust of air then, turning so he can see him, his stare and voice cold.] Say it.

[Outloud.]

A - Hallways

[Laura did not like being stuck on the ship again. The smog moon had been awful, but the hand holding planet, in spite of it's...shortcomings...had honestly been wonderful, and being trapped in the ship again felt too much like a cage. A small, restrictive cage.]

[So she was prowling around a lot. Not quite pacing really, but close, moving from room to room to room to room, unable to really sit still for more than a few minutes, especially in the mornings.]

[Man she missed climbing trees.]

B - Cargo Hold

[One of the few times she did sit still, or at least stay in one place, was down in the hold. There was enough room to go through her martial arts training, so often times she was doing that, just simple exercises.]

[Other times, and the only time she'd really be sitting down, she would be in the corner of the hold where her 'wish' had resulted in two large aquariums full of the little fuzz slugs from the planet. (One for aquatic ones, one for not). She usually had one out, sitting on her arm or her shoulder as she sat cross-legged on the floor and tried not to dwell on feeling so enclosed.]

[unfortunately, Zhas is also in a less-than-ideal mood. the confinement never bothers him, but other problems have left him restless and irritable.

sleep is something that doesn't come to him easily. trying is kind of an ordeal. so when his attempted resting is interrupted over and over again by someone wandering through the hallway from room to room, he finally gets up, climbs the ladder out of his hatch, and slams the door open a little louder than entirely necessary.

so, hello. a menacing-looking guy with a skull painted on his face is glaring out into the hall, looking for the owner of the offending footsteps.]

[and wouldn't you know it, the guy straight-up gives him an excuse.

he never says much, but this is a special occasion:] Get out.

[he drops his bag on the floor, watching Arthur back. he sounds cold and menacing by default, eyes glowing a dim orange in the low-light of the cargo hold.]

[Laura sensed him coming a moment before his door opened, but she made no attempt to stop, not until he was leaning out into the hallway enough to be in her way.]

[She stopped a foot or so away, and probably didn't look all that intimidating being a tiny teenage girl, if not for the way she held herself. And her green eyes meeting his as if to say 'well, move.']

[She didn't really know how to be intimidated.]

[His chest shakes with mirthless laughter.] Yeah, sure.

[Arthur, his eyes are glowing why.]

[unfortunately, even if Zhas was not emotionally compromised or increasingly angry at Arthur for things that only half make sense... at the end of the day, he's still a huge asshole.

so instead of just leaving like any sane, level-headed person would do, he walks right up to Arthur. he has heavy boots and broad shoulders and doesn't stop until he's in his face and glawing down at him with those jack-o-lantern, fireglow eyes of his.]

Now.

Edited (wait i thought of a better word) 2016-08-07 22:29 (UTC)

[And that's the insane thing. Either one of them could leave. And yet, neither will. He raises an unimpressed eyebrow, though his heart is still beating fast.] You could add in a grip to the front of my shirt. Maybe another growl.

[He stands up, trying to muffle the surprise that he's actually pretty close to Zhas' height.] I honestly expected a few more words than that, though.

[well, he clearly doesn't know Zhas very well. three words seems like more than this poncy waste-of-space deserves.

so he shoves him, a quick warning push against his shoulder. not enough to send him stumbling backwards--but it sure isn't hard to imagine that Zhas could do a lot worse.]

I don't have anything to say to you.

[The push sends a jolt through him, and he stiffens.] Why the fuck not?! Why the fuck aren't you beating the crap out of me right now? I was there. And she died. She's dead. And I'm just-

[He runs a hand through his hair with a growl.]

I'm fucking useless!

[So push him or blame him or do something.]

[Well, look who's here at the old stomping grounds. Asuka comes in unannounced, as usual, arms crossed, her usual bitter look practically engraved on her face, but she's not feeling any worse or better than usual as she stalks over.]

We already had to sew that thing back together once. [This close, her too-sharp nose can detect the smell of blood under the sweat. If he keeps this up, he's going to hurt himself. Her voice is marginally softer for her next words-- she's pretty ugly when crossed, herself, and though she's not looking for a fight, she thinks she might end up with one if she's not careful. The expression on his face would be scary without his makeup.] You could at least kick it sometimes.

[you know what Coil hates even worse than crossing another human being while he's quietly seething around with horrible feelings that he doesn't know how to deal with? being run into on his blind side by said human being. he hates that shit.

so, it's really an instant reaction when he shoves out hard with an elbow as something is suddenly intruding into his space, heading right for his face and his still-sore ribs.]

[Okay those plates are certainly flying everywhere and shattering on the floor. Arthur stumbles back, wide-eyed and shocked. He doesn't have the wherewithal to ask if Coil's okay. His heart is beating hard in his chest, so he smacks an upset hand against the wall next to himself.] Shit.

[fun fact: conflicts between two vampires in "civil" circles are settled by what is essentially an intimidate-off. two monsters face each other and snarl and glare until one of them finally succumbs to the pressure and lashes out. the loser gets the first chance to strike, yes, but he is in a worse state than the other one--and loses face in the eyes of his peers for being weak. the winner is pardoned from the same consequences.

to Zhas, this is exactly that. and with his little outburst, Arthur just lost.

so with a stony, unsettling calm, Zhas delivers a heartfelt punch right to his solar plexus.]

[the jolt of the whole thing, along with the effort of slamming an elbow into something, is exactly the sort of thing that aggravates the hell out of his still-healing wounds.

while Arthur is recovering on his side of things, Coil is also reeling--hissing through his teeth with a grimace and taking a moment to ride out the painful spasm in his ribs. and once he does manage to catch his breath, there are a couple of angry, pointed signs being gestured in Arthur's direction.]

[It hurts like hell, and he doubles over, losing his breath for some moments.

He shakes his head, inhales sharply when he can, and heaves some weight in Zhas' direction, pushing him backwards. It's hard enough that he could knock Zhas off his feet, though not necessarily if Zhas plants his weight. He's not even sure why he's doing this except that he's angry and Zhas is a good target right now.]

[He shakes his head.] I think I get the idea, yeah.

[He kicks some of the dishes to the side before throwing him a suspicious glance.] What's wrong with you?

[He saw him grimace.]

[he shakes his head, because as far as he's concerned, he is just fine. he'd spent long enough healing--a couple weeks laid up in the medical bay--so it's mostly just pain still lingering around. in his mind, it's not enough to mention.

and he's more concerned about what this guy's problem is anyway.

so, Coil points at him instead, a little accusing and a little demanding.]

[Arthur makes a frustrated noise, waving him off.] I just wasn't looking where I was going. Everything's fine.

[that sad punching bag doesn't deserve this mess of a crew, man.

while at first he doesn't seem to pay much attention to her arrival, throwing punch after punch even though it's starting to sting, her coming close triggers a little warning in his peripheral awareness. as much as he's zeroed on on his target, real or imagined, he's also hardwired not to hurt innocent humans.

or, at least, things that are... adjacent to an innocent human. his definitions have expanded, some, since he was brought here.

so he slowly winds down. she can watch it--a couple of punches that don't land on center, slower lead-up, his breathing suddenly noticeable as he and his body remember he has a finite lung capacity. his return to the real world brings with it the knowledge that his arms hurt and his hands are raw, and his facepaint must look a mess with how long he's been going at this.

he finally stops with one hand pressed against the bag, leaning on the backs of his fingers, the whole thing creaking on its chains as their weights balance out. he looks over at her--not glaring, at least, not angry in her direction--but he doesn't look like he's having a great time, either.]

i. hallway

[Asuka's not in a foul mood, exactly, but she's also not pleased. Years on board the Wunder and years spent grudgingly at NERV mean she's used to enclosed spaces, but the handholding planet's spoiled her. It's like the day after a feast, except all the leftovers have been thrown out. She's anxious, too, which is even worse, uncertain about everything, herself included.]

[She's on her way to her room, something tight and mostly-hidden in her arm, with only a bit of red cloth sticking out. At least, that's how it starts out, until, on her blind side, she walks straight into someone, promptly dropping the totem that's more puppet than doll, really-- her gift from the tree.]

[Scrambling to pick it up, she hisses without apology--]

Hey!

ii. kitchen

[She's really no cook, but she had spent a fair amount of time on the planet waitressing at one of the restaurants. A day or so before they'd left, she'd spent the last of her acorns on a gallon or so of some sort of chowder, and brought it with her back to the ship. Now that they're most definitely not getting anything fresh for awhile, she's assessing her stock and pouring out a portion in a plastic bowl. Not having to eat doesn't keep her from sometimes wanting to eat.]

[Unsurprisingly, the chowder's not quite as good heated up in the microwave as it had been fresh, but it's still a dire improvement from the cubed crap that's usually in the kitchen. She stops, mouth and spoon about a half-inch from each other, and says, slightly grudgingly--]

You want any?

[OOC: If you'd rather have a custom starter, PM me! Asuka, like Visa, is everywhere you want to be.]

[he nods with the deadest expression ever. right. everything is obviously just fine.

skeptically, he points at Arthur and then gestures messily to his own face--indicating the lovely state of the other's unkempt state. that's all just fine too, hmm? perhaps a new fashion statement?]

One fish, two fish...

Arthur - open

Zhas | Open

b) is for boys being dumb

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Laura Kinney - Open

A.

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b

a) is for aaaaaaagh boys why

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Asuka Shikinami Langley | OTA

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