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 Posted: Tue Jul 07, 2015 8:33 pm
Starting over, Damian was finding, was more difficult than he could have possibly anticipated. Perhaps it was because he remembered absolutely nothing of the person he used to be - that had been wiped clean when Laurelite brought him into the Negaverse. Perhaps it was because it was difficult to prepare, under any circumstances, for becoming a whole new person. He had needed a new name, a new identity, new everything, and it was incredibly disconcerting to have his entire life (nineteen or twenty years, by his distant and not necessarily accurate guess, but being twenty felt close enough to correct) completely discarded.
But that was the price he paid for what he wanted to become, and apparently the secondary price was that he was under the watch of another officer. More specifically, Captain Umber - technically his equal in rank, but leagues beyond him in skill and experience, he would admit to that much.
Also, had made efforts to murder him. Twice. Damian was fairly certain there was a subtle implied threat in that, that if he slipped or failed he was always under the eyes of someone who had the demonstrated will and capability to kill him.
This was going to be an interesting roommate experience, if nothing else.
He seemed to have arrived first, which meant very little, except that he had a moment to survey the entrance area - a fairly open floorplan, at least insofar as the kitchen and living area went. Enough space for two, he supposed, particularly when one of the two had little more than some hastily-purchased clothes and toiletries. And cash, but that would be going under his bed, to be drawn from only if necessary.Strickenized idek what i'm doing, what are words
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Posted: Wed Jul 08, 2015 7:34 am
Shale's day deteriorated increasingly quickly since testing the keys to their new apartment. By the time he got around to testing the keys in their respective locks, he realized he had three keys on the ring given to him. Two looked like apartment keys, with the third on the ring being a mailbox key. Only one of the two apartment keys worked for his lock, so the extra was soon removed and left separate in his pocket. Trying the mail key revealed that all was not well - it did not open the slot for their assigned deliveries, slot number nine, but opened an entirely different mailbox at slot number two. Inside lay mail addressed to one Mr. Samuel D. Higgins, with a mail order issue of Playboy magazine heaped atop Traditional Home magazine. He closed it, locked it, and started toward the office.
Once he spoke with the woman - a blonde-haired girl of slim body type and far too much makeup for the job - she confirmed that the second set of keys had been picked up by the other tenet and, while she was deeply apologetic, there would be only one mail key between the pair of them as the management team could not locate their second key. Asking to have the lock on their mailbox changed offered no solution, and neither did a request to have another key made. She claimed that their hands were tied, and he left the office in a simmering seethe.
But his day managed to find new lows to plunge to on his short journey back to the apartment. To begin, a man nearly hit him while he crossed the street to their building, and that very man had the gall to curse him out for walking across the roadway. Shale managed, albeit narrowly, to avoid punching him out. Secondarily, a friendly passerby somehow mistook him for a 'ma'am'. Beyond that, the stairs were occupied by a janitor bleaching the steps.
Beyond that, a new family crowded the entire hallway to his apartment and refused to move on request.
Beyond that, he dropped his keys no less than twice when trying to unlock the door.
Beyond that, his roommate was undeniably present already.
I will get through this ******** day, he reminded himself in exacerbation. He need not treat this as anything more than a business arrangement- there stood no requirement to befriend this 'Damian Howe'. He stopped just beyond the door, allowing it to swing shut behind him while he deposited his keys on the kitchen island with a clatter. He noted that the few boxes he distributed throughout the apartment looked untouched, so Damian apparently had the sense to leave his things alone.
"Damian." His greeting came out more forceful than expected, but he played through it coolly. "This is going to be a straightforward arrangement. Apartment costs and chores will be split in half. For personal boundaries, bedroom lines will not be crossed without invitation. There will be no dishonesty. And if you do anything to endanger or cross the Negaverse, I will report you to Laurelite myself. Do you understand me?" He watched the man expectantly while his hand still lingered on his keys.Noir Songbird words are exciting things made of letters that make sounds and give you delicious feels
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Posted: Sat Jul 11, 2015 1:30 am
Apparently, Damian's luck was such that his first encounter one on one with his roommate was when he was in what was clearly a deeply unpleasant mood. That was a deeply inauspicious start - he would have preferred something at least a little bit pleasant, but apparently that was not what was in the cards. The idea of creeping around what was at least partially his home seemed unappealing, but then, so did the idea of making Shale even angrier by his mere presence.
Which, so far, seemed to be doing a good job of offending.
"And you must be Shale," he said, and he tried to ignore how familiar the other man felt - not just because he knew him as an officer. Familiar in the way small things had been, things he must have known when he was...whoever he was before. Perhaps they had met (or more than just met, this strange familiar-feeling was too strong for that), but it hardly mattered now, with his memories wiped clean.
The rules were straightforward enough, even if one of them was deeply ironic - no dishonesty. As if this entire mess wasn't built on a massive throne of lies. But if all went well, Shale would never need to know that. It was sort of the whole point of this house-of-cards endeavor.
"I'm glad we're at 'report to Laurelite,' and not 'murder me,'" he said, and his tone was probably drier than was strictly sane in the face of someone so obviously pissed. "Yes,I understand," he said, for specificity, and then, "did you have a preference between the two bedrooms? I don't have enough for closet space to matter." He tapped his bag with his foot.
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Posted: Mon Jul 13, 2015 6:31 pm
"I never intended to murder you," Shale returned coolly. His voice belied no offense at the assumption. Finally his hand retracted from the keys, as if he decided, however begrudgingly, to stay. "When trying to secure a target for corruption, my goal is to immobilize or incapacitate. I decided on the latter."
Shale sighed through his nose while he actually took the time to look over his roommate - and the end result wasn't particularly uninteresting. The hair looked far too long to be comfortable, fashionable, or useful - but beyond that, his features were clean, he kept himself shaven, and he dressed in clothes that fit his figure. He hadn't come with much beyond a duffel bag of clothes and enough money to make the year's lease work - or so he assumed; he hadn't felt around for his roommate's spending habits, and hoped that the Negaverse would compensate in such a situation. Shale knew better than to pass premature judgments about a person he never met. While he didn't care for Ploutonion before, and he greatly detested this insistence that the Negaverse held him hostage too, 'Damian Howe' was no one he ever met before.
"I don't know what memories you've kept as part of corruption." He spoke clearly, but lowly; the apartment itself was private enough to allow for free speech of it but he remained uncertain about the thickness of the walls between units. "If you don't remember your being a civilian, then take the master. You might find out that you like clothes. In that case you'd need the space." Besides, Shale piled a few of his boxes outside the smaller bedroom earlier.
Closing his eyes for a few moments, Shale tried to rifle his typical habits upon moving in with Porsha that he should point out. A few came to mind that might impact the man, and others, like his knickknacks, that he decided weren't so integral to mention. "I hunt, which takes up a lot of freezer space. You can use the meat at any time. I also prefer to do the cooking, so you can eat what comes of that. And I don't like being completely dressed when I'm home." Damian could interpret the lattermost comment as he felt fit.
Shale started toward some of the battered cardboard boxes sitting atop the kitchen counter and began to unpack them. Most of them consisted of kitchen accessories and trinkets, mostly handhelds and measuring devices with a few larger bowls. He set about unpacking what he could while rifling off a mental to-do list. "We'll have to buy furniture. Figure out food... potentially coordinate patrols..." How does any captain balance all these responsibilities. I should ask someone more experienced. And 'Ashanite' is supposed to have these same responsibilities. I hate this.
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Posted: Mon Jul 13, 2015 11:57 pm
Damian opened his mouth to point out that it looked rather different from his perspective, but decided that arguing with his roommate regarding the man's intent to kill him or not seemed a rather idiotic prospect. If nothing else, being purposely antagonizing towards someone he was going to live with for a fairly extended period was going to get him nothing but grief, and he tried not to make decisions that were entirely against his own interests.
Whether corruption, and this whole charade, was or wasn't sort of remained to be seen.
Shale's offer surprised him - it was a consideration he didn't expect, but one that was definitely welcome. "That's...generous. Thank you." He supposed it wasn't too far to assume that he might be the type of person whose closet ended up far bigger than it needed to be - since apparently he'd been the type of person to grow his hair out long enough to touch the floor unbraided. (If he was going to have any kind of massive expense, it was probably going to be haircare products, because he couldn't bear the thought of cutting it off,not when whoever he had been had put so much effort into it for so long.)
"I don't remember much, and all of it is Ploutonion. And...skills, but not experiences." Best be up front with the disaster that was his memory. The knowledge that Shale was a hunter seemed to fit perfectly with his image of the man as an officer - of course he was efficient and brutal, he had learned to be. At least it would mean extra food - unusual food, probably, since he couldn't recall ever having game meat.
Not...that he could recall much.
"I...think I know how to cook? If it turns out I don't, I'm happy to defer, though." It would be good to discover if these bits and pieces of knowledge were actually correct, if he really did remember recipes and cooking techniques or if it was just another form of the obnoxious familiar-but-unknown that plagued him. "As to your clothing habits, unless you're intending to run around fully naked I think we'll be fine." And even if so, he could shut himself up in his room and avoid, at worst.
The kitchen tools looked comfortingly familiar - but Damian did not trust his own memories. Not when all he could piece together were fragments of Shakespeare and bits of vague knowledge. "I'd trust you to know more about buying furniture than I do," he said, "but I'm happy to contribute monetarily however I can. As for patrols.." He shrugged. "I wasn't given specific instructions on whether I'm intended to patrol with a minder or not, but I imagine you have far better things to do than babysit me."
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Posted: Fri Jul 17, 2015 7:26 am
Shale paused in unpacking to watch his new roommate; he listened intently while the man explained what memories he did retain. "I see. So you remember misleading me, then. Don't do it twice." The threat came with no listed repercussions; he preferred it this way. Damian could assume what he wanted from it, but without concrete punishment, Shale expected the man to fall in line well enough.
Hvergelmir was right about corruption taking memory. He does not seem quite so miserable as I would think, given his situation. Joining the Negaverse against his will and losing most memory of the life he might've valued would destroy most men. If not, i would expect grandstanding against the faction, much like my brother. Will you end up his cellmate, Ploutonion? I suppose it's impetus to finish my projects.
Shale shifted back into unpacking the odds and ends while the conversation took a different course. A crock pot, a set of pans, a skillet, and silverware all moved into their respective drawers while Shale puzzled out the best locations. In doing so, he discovered that the bottom drawer of the oven squeaked terribly, and that the cupboard space above the fridge was a lie. Damian offered no assistance but Shale didn't expect it; civility was already more than he could expect from the man's circumstances and any assistance proved superfluous overall. Until Damian learned to read minds, there was no need for him to wordlessly step in to cooperate.
"Please," Shale tossed over his shoulder, "don't assume I know anything about furniture. I spent most of my life in the woods. There's not much you need beyond a hunting blind and a tent." He hadn't spent his entire life out there, but he clocked many hours within forest confines to hone his skill. On many a late day, he returned home solely for dinner, depositing kills, and sleep. "I had some carpenter friends where I used to live, but I didn't get much chance to learn from them." The only thing I learned of their company is how to gerrymander together an arrow saw. "It's not enough to tell the difference between good craftsmanship and shoddy work. Xenotime would probably suggest Ikea for furnishing the place.
"And if you remember skills, then you might remember facts. You could surprise yourself with what you know of the world."
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Posted: Thu Jul 30, 2015 1:00 am
"I didn't intentionally mislead you," Damian said, which was in and of itself a lie, sort of. God this was complicated and he was absolutely going to end up tripping himself up. "I was seriously considering the Negaverse. I wanted it to be my choice, but that was apparently not in the cards." And if he sounded bitter, maybe part of him genuinely was, because so far all he had was a very flimsy house of cards and a decent apartment with a roommate he was fairly certain would not at all enjoy living with him, because that was definitely a threat.
He felt awkward standing around and watching Shale put things away, but getting into the kitchen space would probably mean getting in the other man's way, and he seemed to mostly have it under control. Damian in fact took a few steps out of the way, because being inconvenient and mouthy seemed like a particularly dangerous combination.
And it seemed he would be at least partially responsible for handling furnishing the apartment. Lovely, that sounded like something that had absolutely no possible way of going completely wrong. "I'm not sure what stuck and what didn't, but maybe actually shopping will jog something. That...happens, sometimes. Usually just feelings, but it's better than absolutely nothing." Why he was handing over so much information so easily, he wasn't sure, but it wasn't as if he could get any more ********, in this situation.
So he would be as honest as he could, which still meant keeping a fairly large secret. "I make no promises, outside help may be necessary." Perhaps the Xenotime he mentioned? If they had any suggestions at all, it would be better than what Damian knew.
At least "Ikea" sounded familiar./size]
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Posted: Sun Aug 02, 2015 1:53 am
"Apparently not," Shale conceded while distracted with his endeavors. By the time he shut the kitchen cabinets, he successfully loaded three shelves with plates, cups, serving bowls, saucers and mugs - all recently purchased in cheap Corelle variety white. It offered no personality, but Shale didn't even consider personality in decoration of a home. He lived with functionality foremost and to purchase any one item as 'decorative' sounded like a waste.
When he straightened up, he half turned and laid one arm across the counter. It left him looking uniquely tan compared to the Navajo white tiles pressed into the surface. "So it sounds like we will both benefit from you going on a shopping trip to Ikea. Take five hundred dollars, go there, and buy what you find suitable and needful for the space. I have the dimensions and the blueprint printouts for the apartment in the welcoming folder here." He seized the long-neglected folder that had laid next to the stove for days now and handed the nondescript black form to the amnesiac. "My only requirements are at least one bar stool. I don't care about aesthetics. I am not interested in choosing decorative schemes, and any excess furniture purchased will not bother me. When you bring home the receipt, show it to me and I'll pay half the cost as per roommate agreements.
"If you have any questions, I'll give you my cell phone number." Several long minutes were spent fishing it out, navigating the difficult lock screen, navigating the exponentially more difficult apps screen, trying to poke his way through the impossibly difficult setting screen, and finally finding his own number amongst a series of meaningless categories and digits. Finally he showed the screen to his companion to jot down for a note. Or enter into his phone, as any normal person might.
Any normal person who wasn't as technologically vapid as Shale.
"I'll finish unpacking while you're gone. It's mostly utility items and I'm unattached to their placement, so if you find issue with them, just move them and tell me where you put them." It was the most 'goodbye' that Damian would wrangle from the man, and his departure from the conversation was evident in wholesale walking away to a different room and its constituent boxes.
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