(no subject)

[donkeyballs]

» WHO? The Roci Crew and whoever else wants in on this mess
» WHEN? after the gravity is back
» WHERE? A few different places
» WHAT? A few different prompts as well as a catch-all for any roci crew or related logs for the month of june
» WARNINGS? these are all just terrible people what do you want from me


001: Alex, Bobbie and Amos are Judging You

The Martians and the Earther are sitting at a table in the Mess Hall, and they've started a game. That game? To rate everyone else on the ship in order of attractiveness. Want to be rated? Find the comment header below, drop a picture in of your character, and watch the comments fly. Feel free to overhear them and give them hell.


002: Closed, Alex >> Frank

Going on the morning walk-about to search for Holden was ritual, at this point, and Alex was very used to Frank coming over first thing before they headed out. So the door was already open, waiting for him. Alex was fishing through his drawers, trying to find where he'd stashed that singular glove that he'd found, to show him for a laugh. But instead his fingers found something else - a thin sheet of plastic, creased and bent a hundred thousand times, and Alex's heart nearly stopped.

He pulled it out of the drawer like it was made of plutonium, careful not to touch the edges of the drawer with it.

Christ. Oh, Christ.


003: Open, Alex >> Anyone who wants to find this wrecked man.

He goes straight to the bar.

It's not that he isn't a fairly regular fixture there, anyway, but especially right now, all he really wants is to drink until he numbs everything. So hi, have a depressed Martian with a bottle of who knows what, sitting at the bar and just staring at a picture of a woman and a child smiling lovingly at the camera. He keeps stroking his thumb over it, then looking wrecked and saying something like 'god damn it' under his breath before he pours himself another drink. One of his arms is still wrapped up in a sling against his chest.

If he recognizes you, he might look up when you get close, and sigh. "Hey, partner. Everythin' alright?" Because it's a lot easier to worry about other people, than to keep being miserable about yourself.

Comments

[marineris]

Bobbie just shoots him a little smile before he goes. Once he's not right next to her, it's a little easier for her to let her shoulders slump, and to stop trying to pretend she's feeling better than she is. If this gets much worse, she wonders if she should tell Alex she wants to be alone. The last thing she wants is for him to have to watch her die.

[donkeyballs]

He doesn't take too long, but has to stop himself for continuously shooting worried looks back at her. She'll be fine, Kamal, she ain't gonna disappear just because you look away for twenty damn seconds. So he resolutely focuses on what he's doing, and then only when he's done does he return to the table with the tray.

One segment does, indeed, look like what can only really be described as a plate of diarrhea, but the rest look like protein cubes carefully cut to bite size, in some kind of sauce.

"Don't say I didn't warn you."

[marineris]

She forces herself to straighten again when he approaches, and she's not on top of her game right now, so it ends up being more obvious than she would like. It's hard to focus on that mistake when she stares down one of the most unappetizing plates she's seen in her life. She wrinkles her nose, picking up her fork carefully.

"You said it tastes mostly like chocolate. What else does it taste like?"

Because she could make an educated guess.

action nonsense

[tumang]

[ It's like a switch is flipped. From one moment to the next, Amos goes from having too many feelings he has no idea how to deal with, to having none at all. None, whatsoever, not even then usual things he's learning to work with nowadays.

Nothing. His brain goes from overcrowded to blissfully empty, and honestly? It feels good.

He tilts his head back a little where he sits on the observation deck, closing his eyes and taking in the white noise before he opens them again, looking on at the moons ahead of them. No worry. No thoughts of how to go home. No missing anything, or anyone. No yearning to be out there. Nothing. It's a beautiful thing, and his body entirely relaxes.

He takes his shotgun from where it was standing beside him, holds it up, looks into the sights. Takes a deep breath, holds it. Calm, focused, back to who he's supposed to be. What he's supposed to be. There's no regret there, no bad thoughts. He is what he is. ]

I am what I am.

[ It's a whisper, down the barrel of the gun. He is going to sleep so well, later. ]

[bestials]

And, uh, what is that, exactly?

[ Says the scrawny guy in horn rimmed glasses, currently holding his hands up in a surrendering "I come in peace" gesture, because you're pointing a gun at the window into space. ]

[oddbod]

[It's certainly not something she expected when she walked in here, but she swallows down any outward reaction, smoothing her face into one of calm. She walks over in front of him and crouches down - not far, considering her size. Then, still cool as a cucumber, she places her palm over the end of the barrel.]

Easy there, Popeye.

[morethan084]

[Daisy enjoys coming to the observation deck a lot. It was quiet and oddly peaceful, even though none of the surrounding moons or planet are familiar to her. Except this time, when she comes down here, it isn’t anything but peaceful when Daisy spots someone with a gun at their side.

She approaches with caution and when they pick up the gun, Daisy can’t help but tense. How the hell did they get a gun?

It’s when they speak, to themselves seemingly, that Daisy realizes who it is.]

What are you doing?

[Besides losing his mind that is. She keeps a fair distance between them, hands up just in case she’s spooked him enough that he turns to aim the gun at her.]

[tumang]

[ Amos doesn't lower the gun. Instead, he tracks it towards the guy. He has no intention to shoot, but it might look that way. ]

A monster.

[ Nice to meet you. ]

[tumang]

[ Clara. He lets her pull the barrel of the gun down, his hands still around it, but now pointed towards the floor. She's bold. ]

I could have shot you.

[ Would she care? All things considering. His eyes turn up to hers, wide, but also pretty empty. ]

Would it hurt you?

[tumang]

[ Amos doesn't move, gun still trained outward, to the bay window. His breaths are steady and so is his heartbeat. He's completely in control. ]

Wondering how long it'd take for the whole station to be vented if I was to shoot, right now. A bunch of tiny little holes - it'd take a while.

[bestials]

[ O...kay, this guy just became more of a threat. It would be a shame rp have to transform now, Hank thinks, and waste whatever trace of the serum is left in his bloodstream, but if this so-called "monster" decides to shoot, Hank is goingto need all the superhuman agility he can get to dodge out of the way.

Slowly, carefully, he reaches up to remove his glasses, folding them and putting them into the pocket of his jumpsuit. Can't let those break if he has to transform. ]

How about you put the gun down and we can talk about why you feel that way. I really don't want to have to fight you.

[ Hank doesn't look like he's any goodin a fight right now, but there'sa lot of strength and speed hidden in his genes. ]

[oddbod]

Nah.

[She lets go, eyes meeting his. Something is wrong. Very wrong.]

You ever feel the need to shoot out a window and endanger us all, just shoot me instead.

[morethan084]

[Right. So he’s completely lost it. Daisy risks it and starts slowly walking more towards him, gaze shifting from his reflection in the window, to his back.]

Why would you want to do that?

[tumang]

[ Amos raises an eyebrow, but lowers the shotgun. He doesn't care to fight right now. Doesn't care for anything. Nothing means anything. ]

I don't know why you think you can fight me, but I also don't give a shit. And there's nothing to talk about.

[ Because he, genuinely, right now, feels nothing. ]

[tumang]

I don't feel the need.

[ He blinks, before turning back towards the window. He lets go of the gun, resting it against his leg. ]

I don't feel anything.

[ He doesn't sound distressed, or unhappy. Just - flat. Devoid of emotion entirely. ]

[tumang]

Didn't say I want to do that.

[ He didn't. Because he doesn't. ]

I said I was wondering about it. A passing thought.

[oddbod]

[Her shoulders drop a bit, relieved to see the gun leave his hands.

(Though, somewhere deep in the back of her mind, there's a strange, unwanted tinge of disappointment.)]

This have something to do with the other day? On the network?

[contorta]

( the sight of amos holding a shotgun is not unfamiliar, but it isn't welcome, either — if amos is holding his gun, something's happening. it may as well be a law of nature for how true it's been in prax's experience so far. )

Amos? Everything all right?

[tumang]

No idea. Don't - really care.

[ Amos shrugs, letting himself bask in the numbness. A part of him knows he should care, should try to understand. But not now. Not now.

He looks back up towards Clara. ]

You gonna sit, or you're trying to be intimidating, here?

[tumang]

Yep.

[ It's as good an answer as any - it's the truth. Nothing else needs to be said, right now. Amos keeps the gun up, keeps an eye in the sights, the other closed. ]

Just thinking how easy it'd be to shoot straight through this. This is why we don't have those on ships. So fragile.

[oddbod]

[Clara's certainly not trying to intimidate him, now that he's put down the gun, and she's not just going to leave him alone right now. So, she sits down facing him, cross-legged, their knees bumping.

She doesn't say anything; she just watches his face, as if trying to read something more in it. The knot of worry in her stomach is getting worse and worse.]

[contorta]

( prax remembers, with sudden and startling clarity, the moment he'd wondered whether amos wasn't, in fact, a homicidal maniac.

he knows amos isn't, but he's still reminded of it now. )

Please don't. ( he means to say it lightly. he doesn't quite manage. )

[donkeyballs]

"Like slightly rotten soy beans," He admitted, with a helpless smile.

"What happened to all that marine courage? A little unappetisin' food supply and it goes flyin' out the window?"

He doesn't say anything about the way her back straightens, or the obvious effort it takes. Just sets the food down in front of her, putting two forks down, and then sits opposite.

[donkeyballs]

His arm around Franks shoulders pulls tighter, solid, and he rubs his arm a little bit.

"Hey, now." His voice is a low, quiet rumble, affection and gentle censure at the same time. "That something that she'd want you to say?" It's a careful question. He can't tell Frank that he's lying - because he has no idea if he is or not. Maybe he did let Maria down. But the way that Frank talks about her, the way he obviously loves her, he has to hope that means that Maria was kind. That she was good.

That she wouldn't want him to talk about himself this way.

So he trusts in that, and hope it doesn't fail him.

[marineris]

She looks deeply, utterly offended, and picks up the fork as soon as he sets it down. "Who said anything about being afraid?"

And then she takes a bite, and judging by the look on her face, it's clear she's made a terrible mistake.