(no subject)

[sadsack]

Who: Bariyan e Kodhi
Broadcast: Whole network | Voice
Action: The Marsiva
When: March 17th or whenever's convenient honestly

Broadcast:

[ Bariyan's voice is low, scratchy, and calm. He's got one simple not-at-all cryptic question: ]

Who here should I watch out for?

Action:

Bariyan's awakening is objectively boring: he'd opened his eyes, gotten out of his bunk, and stared in silence as he'd tried to absorb recent events. And recent knowledge. Then, after some sense of reality had settled back in, he'd merely skulked about the deck until he found... something.

It was black. Mostly. It looked a bit like a cart. At the same time, it looked like nothing Bariyan had ever encountered before.

By the powers of Bariyan's torpid mind and his augment combined, he eventually came to the conclusion that he could walk on it.

It's a treadmill.

He's been walking on it for almost an hour now, arms crossed, shoulders hunched, expression stormy. Looking for all the world like he's trying to storm off somewhere, and getting absolutely nowhere.

Comments

action

[respired]

Koltira's been wandering the halls of the Marsiva for hours now, wary and confused. On the one hand, he's not screaming beneath the Undercity. On the other hand, where is he?

Interstellar travel is not a foreign concept; he's been to the Outlands, he's heard tell of draenei and their vast spaceships. Floating among the stars isn't the difficult concept here. But everything else -- the broadcasts, the foreign knowledge swimming in his memory, the amenities of the ship -- was inexplicable.

As is this man he's come across. A man with no pulse, no heartbeat, and the dark hiss of necromancy clinging to his body. A man with stitches on his neck.

"What are you doing?" he says, raising an eyebrow.

Exercise doesn't benefit the dead.

[sadsack]

Slowly, without moving his head, Bariyan turns his gaze upon Koltira. He doesn't stop walking. He doesn't even do Koltira the courtesy of uncrossing his arms. He does, however, straighten up.

Koltira's appearance is strange, as is the fact that he's also clearly a walking, lifeless monstrosity. And carrying a great big pulsing sword. Under normal circumstances, Bariyan would be halfway out a window by now -- but here, he's had enough time to contemplate that "space" and "immortal self-repairing zombie" would probably be a very unhappy combination.

So he just narrows his eyes at Koltira instead.

"Escaping," Bariyan answers, flatly. "What are you doing?"

[respired]

"Escaping," Koltira repeats. He glances down at the treadmill, which is going nowhere at a moderate speed. Glances up at Bariyan. "To where, exactly?"

[sadsack]

Bariyan's gaze grows unfocused, wistful.

"To a place where people answer my questions, for once," he sighs. Then his expression sharpens. He looks back at Koltira. "But I suppose what you are doing is self-evident, anyway."

He steps off, but leaves the treadmill running, and stays standing upon its side panel. The additional height almost puts him at eye-level with Koltira.

"What do you want?" Bariyan asks. His voice is level. There is no accusation or hostility in his voice -- no more than usual, anyway -- it's a genuine question. Koltira must want something. Better cut to the chase.

[respired]

"You are the only other person I've seen so far," Koltira says, his curiosity souring to irritation. "Unfortunately."

He doesn't know how to answer the question. He doesn't want anything, not even a way home, not even an explanation. Being brought here took him from a fate worse than his present undeath. He honestly isn't complaining.

So he just shrugs. Nothing.

[sadsack]

"I'm hardly a person," Bariyan mutters. His shoulders slump as he starts to sink back into his usual slouched posture, as if Koltira's words have somehow wounded him. But his eyes remain sharp, critical. He looks Koltira in the eye. "I'd hazard that you aren't, either."

[respired]

"Not living," Koltira says, holding Bariyan's gaze. "Not human."

He leans against one of the bars of the treadmill, his armor-plated fingers scratching up the metal. "But sentient all the same."

[sadsack]

Bariyan gives Koltira's armored hand a look. He was going to use that bar. He needs something to casually lean on, too.

Deprived of his support, Bariyan settles back into his timeworn slouch-slightly-and-cross-arms pose.

"All right, I guess that passes as human enough in these parts," Bariyan says. He looks Koltira up and down again. "For a given degree of human. What would you call yourself?"

[respired]

"Blood elf," he responds. He doubts the term will mean anything to Bariyan, but it's the only one he's got. "And what degree of human are you?"

[sadsack]

"You don't look very bloody to me," Bariyan replies, automatically, hardly registering the words until they're all the way out of his mouth.

His eyes widen in embarrassment at his own stupid response. Then he just powers through the moment.

"I don't consider myself human," Bariyan says, speaking quickly. "But that's neither here nor there."

He steps off the treadmill, puts a hand to his chest, and executes a small, awkward bow. Keeping his eyes on Koltira the whole while.

"Bariyan," he says, by way of introduction.

[respired]

Koltira's about to snap back a response, but he's caught off-guard by the sudden formality.

"Koltira," he says, straightening up. His tone is a little less aggrieved as he continues. "And the name refers to history."

[sadsack]

"All right. Should we talk about how we died, now, or is that a conversation for later?" Bariyan asks, still stiffly formal. His dress blues only accentuate the cool politeness that's settled between them; unfortunately, he'd been pulled into this world straight from an event that required him to be presentable.

[respired]

"By all means," Koltira says. "Enlighten me."

voice

[birdsbirdsbirds]

I guess I did get my heart ripped out by somebody the other day.

[...says a thoughtful, charming voice from over the network. mostly unhelpfully.]

[sadsack]

[ Completely flatly: ] Hm. Are you dead?

[birdsbirdsbirds]

Only metaphorically. Physically very much alive.

[sadsack]

That seems like it would be difficult, without a heart.

[birdsbirdsbirds]

You'd think that, wouldn't you? [a short laugh.] No, I healed. I've got some talents.

[sadsack]

Congratulations on your talents. [ Said more dubiously than anything. ] Who tore your heart out in the first place?

[birdsbirdsbirds]

[a fair reaction.] His name's Fenris. Elf, white tattoos.

[sadsack]

And generally in the habit of ripping peoples' hearts out?

[birdsbirdsbirds]

That's what I've heard... I'm the only one here, so far, but who knows?

[sadsack]

[ Bariyan answers that with a non-commital "hm". ]

What did you do to provoke that?

[birdsbirdsbirds]

[how do you say "stabbed him in the backstory" without making yourself look bad?]

Accidentally hit a nerve I didn't know he had. Otherwise, it's a long story.

[sadsack]

Are you really going to leave a man hanging like that? [ RAISED EYEBROW. And a voice full of skepticism to go with it. ] That sounds like a good story.