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 Posted: Fri Feb 23, 2018 1:45 pm
Soft chocolate beans pressed to flooring silently, the citadel was creepily empty down in the lower levels. Tiberius had been working in the Mauvian HQ on several projects and now wanted to go bother one of his favorite people for a beer, pizza, and maybe a game or two. IF that person wasn’t working; one never knew with Lauri, the Finn was a typically busy guy. Between gainful employment and his ‘side projects’ the guy was almost always doing something.
The problem was that Tiberius needed a ride. Sure, he could use the teleporter in the HQ to get from Negaspace to the corresponding access door at Romano’s, but that was pretty damn far from the Warehouse Lauri lived in. He didn’t want to have to walk his fluffy a** that whole way.
Thus the attempt to procure a ride.
Faustite’s dump is around here somewhere… Ears swivelling and nose twitching, the Mauvian jogged down an unpopulated hallway, coming to a door that should have been open but wasn’t.
Infuriating Tiberius rowled at the door in annoyance, a low sound that carried and echoed in the dusty space. “Faustite! Hey, I need you.” There was no sound from the broom closet the half-youma utilized as living space, not even after further outcry for attention. Eyes narrowed, tail lashed. Tiberius found the whole situation unacceptable - he had places to go, lemons to see, beers to drink!
Falling back on the old tried and true methods, learned from the time Before he’d awoken as a starcat but after he’d learned that sometimes people needed a bit of encouragement to get off their asses and properly attend his needs, the massive Mauvian rose up on his hind legs, put his forepaws onto the battered closet door, and began pawing at the door as though he were auditioning for a metal band comprised of whisking and clattering noises.
For good measure, he yowled at full volume as well.Faustite woke to exhaustion as he ever did when spending time in the Negaverse's detritus closet. The thin mat beneath him pressed flat to the floor beneath his weight, adding only meager comfort to the insult of his station. The air proved thick and rank with darkness, with copper and moondust and ocean salt, and he rankled at his own presence claiming the room.
Who shut the door again. First came the scratching, then the piercing yowls that informed him of unwanted Mauvian company. Don't tell me you shut it yourself.
The captain coughed from the pungent smoke, the sharpness of it cutting his lungs, then felt around for the telltale knob. Finally his hand brushed against it, then he opened the door to pale, judgmental light. Even the Negaverse crystals failed to penetrate the thick soup of smoke pouring from the cracked door. Clean air rejoined him, however, and he sighed. The waning scent of his own smog wafted out.
A flicker and his uniform joined him, refreshed. A boot pressed to the door to open it outward slowly, giving the Mauvian on the other side time to retreat before it swatted the cat in the haunch. And upon sighting the overgrown feline, he recognized him immediately -- Tiberius.
Schörl must want something. He looked dully to the striped tabby, finding no love in his groggy system for the feline company. Already he felt that he knew Tiberius too well. He imagined the feeling was mutual. "What does she want now?" The day was too young to hide the contempt from his voice.From inside the room, Tiberius' sensitive ears could pick up faint sounds of life stirring. Good, he is there. Of course, the heavy aroma of Faustite's smoke tickled at his nose as well, but that could have simply been a leftover from the last time the half-youma had been in residence and was not as trustworthy an indicator of occupancy as it might have otherwise been. Outside, he stepped back as the knob twitched under Faustite's fingers, giving one last yowl in an even more urgent pitch before falling silent and awaiting the door being opened.
Stale smoke rolled out like a living thing, almost solid, and Tiberius coughed and darted so that he was out of reach of the moving plank and in full view of Faustite and the dismal space within which he dwelt.
"You look like s**t, smokestack." He did too, bleary eyed and reeking of his own smoke - the entirety of Faustite screamed dull. Tiberius moved into the small space and side-stepped so that he could brush his tail against the captain's cheek while looking askance at the meager closet. Worse digs than that hobo behind the five and dime, damn. You'd think a captain of the Negaverse would be given better...I've seen more care given to feeder fish at the pet store. But that was none of his damn business, so once more he sat down before Faustite and set about grooming his paws to get some of the smoke scent off them.
Did he lie? Did he tell the captain the he'd been ordered to take him to visit Lemons? Or should he be truthful and just hope that the captain would drag his fluffy butt where he wanted it?
"Gotta get across town to the Warehouse district. One of our guys." Maybe omission was the best path for the moment? What would be a good carrot for smokestack? Beer? Pizza? Videogames? Lemons himself? The guy wasn't half bad on the eyes, for a dude. "It's a pain in the a** for me, so. What do you say?" Tiberius' tail stuck out behind him, tail tip swishing with anticipation of Faustite's answer; he was trying to be nice, so very nice, because he genuinely liked people - and the captain was as least half a people. Come on, don't be a d**k, be a dude.Tibs' tail touched him and he jumped slightly, bereft as he oft was of any contact. But the offending appendage darted away not long after as the cat retreated out of the space and resigned himself to wash duty. Faustite did not envy cats that unwholesome task.
Faustite offered no great response to the cat's jab. He did, vulgar as the statement was; he slept poorly and was awakened prematurely. Exhaustion dragged him down from his dearth of starseeds or energy orbs or even caffeine. Headaches became a vivid identifier that he was still alive. Rubbing eyes, he moved to stand with as much care as he could manage.
So Tiberius had business in the warehouse district. Faustite knew nothing of any offbeat activities the cat might run on his own, though the illegal kind crossed his mind. Tiberius' easy assent to Schörl's demands -- and Schörl's affiliation with the illicit -- led him to suspect as much. Tiberius made clear his aims to please. Those aims worked well, he imagined, on people like Schörl. People who wanted to be pleased. People who had want of connections just the same. He found no strength for objection to it, however. If it turned out the Mauvian peddled in narcotics, Faustite had half a mind of late to ask for samples.
He looked down at the fur factory impassively. "Alright," he assented, and stooped for boarding. The overgrown cat felt like a fifth of his bodyweight hung about his neck. "You do have the directions, don't you?" The question hung while they flashed from one austere backdrop to the next.Tiberius waited to see whether or not he'd have to further explain his aims and let Faustite know that Schörl had nothing to do with his little excursion to the warehouse district. Luck was with him, for the walking disaster in half-youma form seemed to work out whatever leaps of logic required to assent without requiring Tiberius to relay his actual purpose - or to outright lie.
"You're a good man, Smokestack." With a pleased huff and at least a modicum of care that claws in flesh could hurt, the sizable Mauvian boarded his swanky new ride and took up residence about Faustite's neck. Tiberius even gave the captain a gentle head bunt to the chin in thanks as they set off. "Course I do."
Directions? Well <******** did not, in fact, possess directions to Lauri's warehouse. But he was Mauvian, he was smart. He was brilliant, in fact. He had managed to get the Dandy to install catdoors in the Negaverse, finagled the sourpuss into giving him access to the pizza delivery app when it had only been promised to Bob, and he'd tricked Laz into being his body double for his online girlfriend. He could get them to the warehouse without the Smokestack getting suspicious.
And would. Probably with only like...three screwed up turns and a dumpster stop that would be suspicious to anyone not a cat.
The sort of directions a cat would take, as opposed to a person. It wasn't his fault! Or maybe it was, but Tiberius sure as hell wasn't going to accept it, especially when he figured it'd be easy to find the warehouse. It looked pretty much like the others, but perhaps a bit cleaner. The complement went without comment. The Mauvian could sing his praises like a fever-stricken canary if he wanted to; Faustite knew better than to buy the poison dispensed by one of Schörl's kept pets.
Tiberius brushing his face too close to Faustite's face gave him pause; a ghost scent of bile overtook him, and he swallowed sour spit. "Don't do that." The words barely met the air before the two disappeared altogether from the Citadel's yawning halls.
The overbright afternoon struck him squarely through the pits of his eyes. He squinted, used the devil-black back of his hand to blot out the piercing rays. No doubt the Mauvian had a better sense of transition than he did; the cat still had pupils that waxed and waned in the presence of the sun. Lucky for him, Faustite supposed. Lucky for him until Schörl saw fit to cut away those eyes like delightful new jewels.
As his gaze slowly adjusted, Faustite let fall his hand. The building behind them cut a hole in the direct sunlight, casting his feet in half-shadow. He stood on concrete peppered with cracks and pockmarked with numerous HVAC units. Their constant hum permeated their surroundings while they sucked all the life out of the air, and drew it down into an unseen shop. Faustite hoped they weren't yet near, even as they stood in the midst of the warehouse district. He wanted the roll of autumn's greater chills against his neck and back. He wanted the cooling breeze before being subjected to someone's sweltering domain.
The creature captain paced to the parapets, where his heel crowned its obsequious shelf. Roads spidered out and pressed into each other around their captive warehouses. A sign hung from an intersection, though it lingered too far for half-human eyes to read. Tiberius would have better luck, he figured. He waited for direction.Cranky cranky. Well, Tiberius supposed he couldn't really blame Faustite for being such a tetchy s**t, he did catch a lot of hell from Schörl and was treated none too kindly in general. Half-youma weren't exactly the most..envied officers in the Negaverse hierarchy, after all.
Oh, and there was the fact that he'd been made to ingest cat vomit. That too.
Tiberius huffed and settled, winding his tail around Faustite's throat, pupils going to slits at the sudden shift from the darkness of Negaspace. "Oh, nice. Niiice." He rose up, stomping with all the concern of any feline for a mortal perch about as he worked to place himself on mental map. Okay. So...I think that's Bob's sunning dumpster, the broken one…and over there is the print shop guy with the lizard…..
"Closer to the edge, west. Nearer the dead space and four blocks from the bus stop." Came the Mauvian's careful, considered direction. "The Finn got it on the cheap, apparently, 'cause it's so far from everything." And probably because it had been so run down, not that it had mattered to the sour b*****d.
"It's number 934, I think."Pointed paws pushed and jabbed into the myriad sore spots decorating his shoulders and back. Faustite closed eyes, brows furrowed, as he tried to weather Tiberius' languid charades. Pipes bored through what chance he had to relax. Some muscles never tired; others never found the chance.
'Closer to the edge, west.
Black eyes squinted toward the sky. He shifted to the precipice, uncertain for the footing of his burden, and leapt out -- downward in ricochet leaps, further toward street level where long shadow cut its claims into day's domain. He found a deep pocket astride an alley, spotted the mentioned stop alongside a dearth of industry. He crossed the wasteland, destitute weeds clinging with needy leaves, then leapt the chain link. An advertisement hung like a death warrant, rusted and sun-bleached, waiting for a caller to pick up the space.
Up and out, up and out. Four digits shrank to three. He found the odds first, crossed the street, found the evens. Tiberius stayed miraculously hitched to his shoulders, even when the live weight proved unbearable at times.
934 loomed finally. Tiberius professed his uncertainty at first; a worry pit formed in the captain's stomach at the thought of a wrong number. Of another starseed in his too-smooth palm. He strode up the steps to the side entrance nonetheless, and pounded on the door with his fist.
"If you're wrong, then you're walking the rest of the way." He looked from the vomit machine to the door, then listened for any sounds of inner life.Travel by Faustite wasn't such a bad way to go, if you didn't mind the smells. Sometimes Tiberius wondered just how much of the half-youma's unique combination of scents could be picked up by the lesser human noses around him. The smoke, sure - most of them were able to get that much, it was the heaviest of the particulate that came off Faustite. The first to hit the senses, the hardest to get past...but there was so much more - so many layers. Including what he'd had for breakfast (if he'd even had it that day), whether or not he'd been worked over by Stroud or not, anyone else he'd come into contact with. The dusty-sharp scents of paper and ink from his time in the Citadel Library. Thick oils and leather, sweat, anger, sex - residual scents all gifts from Stroud.
Sometimes, but not always, there was also the scents of blood or pain, cloying and heavy enough to taste on the tongue.
The faint tickle under all that of an extremely fine particulate; something familiar and kind of...homey. It was part of why Tiberius liked to put his face in Faustite's face. Or his ear. Or neck.
Tibs didn't mind Smokestack's scents. He found them interesting, true, but the potential benefits to be had from putting up with them even if not were too great to simply turn his nose at. Plus, he was a person - or had been - and the Mauvian really did love people. A lot. So fluffing himself all over the half-youma really wasn't a hardship.
Being able to annoy the s**t out of him was just a bonus.
"Sure, sure. But I'm not wrong." Tiberius licked Faustite's neck and lay himself down across the half-youma's shoulders like a fluffy stole as though to further prove how much he believed in his correct choice. Really, it was so he had a more stable base from which to bash at Faustite's face and neck with his tail.
From inside, nothing for long moments, then a heavy but somewhat distant clunk and the sound of a voice raised, perhaps to say 'hold on'. Shortly after the door was opened by a grumbling, bare-chested Finn wiping his hands on what looked like a t-shirt that he probably had been wearing. "Ja? Why are you bringing the s**t cat? He has door." Gruff and obviously displeased at having been interrupted, Lauri still stepped back as though to invite cat and chariot in. "You. Glamour. Then in. Or go." He was barefoot and in well-worn, faded jeans stained with grease, paint, and god only knew what else.
"Oh come on Sourpatch, don't be so unfriiiendly~ Smokestack's a good guy. I just wanted to introduce you." In a conspiratorial tone, the Mauvian turned to his ride, "Don't be intimidated, the Finn's always like this. I think he might even like you!" He lifted a paw towards the inside of the warehouse, "Well, come on! Inward!"
"Like hell. You have some motive." Lauri believed that Tiberius had no ulterior motive in dragging Faustite along like he believed the White Moon royals were capable of complicated thought. It just didn't happen.
Going feral was less a choice and more a consequence, so Tibs' choice of interactions both went well-noticed and ardently responded to with gooseflesh. He even groaned under his breath, and wanted desperately to pace as if to distance himself from the thought.
But the cat was smart — oft the source of Faustite's mixed feelings over Stroud's walking pillow — and knew precisely what he was doing. What it meant. How it framed against their situational backdrop there, on a stoop, in the dead of night, with little more than the company of a distant, buzzing street light to look out for them. Soon that noise entwined with internal occupancy, but Faustite could not wrest himself from the weakness of his skin. A hand reached back to find and gently squeeze Tibby's shoulder blades, half a gesture of camaraderie, half cease-and-desist.
They didn't wait much longer.
Out burst a shirtless man, brandishing their inconvenience against them with an accent so thick Faustite could cut it with a knife. And thicker than that — the captain's gaze snapped to the doorframe first, then over a shoulder into the brilliant but distant warehouse confines. Oil's thick and acrid scent fought with his own in a welcome change in uniform olfactory. He cursed the feline in a manner altogether deserved. So this is one of 'our guys'. Captain? General? He's accustomed to giving orders. And Faustite rankled at it.
Those discomforts hid behind his back where he folded his arms, fingers gripped into fists. Something moved in the man's hands but he dared not look at it. "He's right about you." You're always after number one, aren't you?
Crawling down his arms came the glamour's skin, thick and oppressive, like hot oil pushing into his nose and mouth. It settled with a certain heaviness as it passed beneath cat paws, and finally ensconced him in a distant memory. Elex never missed how well his sclera telegraphed his sight. Instead, he turned attention toward Tiberius, and lifted the cat from his shoulders just far enough to collect him against his chest. Tiberius was a weighty thing, and Elex's glamour choked his strength.
"Captain Faustite," he issued as he looked to the top of the pillow's head. "Or Elex Yorke.
"You never gave his name and rank," he admonished to the cat lightly. An index finger snaked out of his puff just long enough to tap the cat on the head.As much fun as it was to bait Faustite, there were lines that the Mauvian didn't cross, times and places during which he adhered to a sort of honor code when dealing with the half-youma and actually respected his wishes instead of bowling through them like a one-feline wrecking ball. This was one of those times, Faustite was keyed up and on edge, so as much fun as it was to lick the taste of sea and moon dust from his skin, Tibs relented, even going so far as to mostly still his tail until the Finn appeared to distract with bared chest and bristly personality.
"He's full of s**t. And alcohol." Tiberius said cheerfully to his conveyance, "I'm surprised Lemons, you like working on hot gear. Smokestack is absolutely hot gear. Tsk tsk, getting senile in your old age...or maybe you're just drunk? Stoned?"
Elex overtook Faustite and moved Tiberius from shoulders to hold against chest like furry shield, admonishing him for not giving name and rank. Had he not? Maybe not - no, probably not. Obviously not, since he was being chidded over it. Giving Elex his best dumb-cat look the Mauvian gasped, "I knew I was forgetting something! This sour sonofabitch is Super Sailor Aue, formerly of the White Moon. He's a garbage senshi that belongs to my buddy Bob."
Lauri watched the transformation with interest, making no commentary on Tiberius acting like an idiot as though he were well versed in such inanities and had long since learned to ignore them; he would have offered his hand, but blessedly Elex was busy holding up Tiberius' fat a** so he only had to make free with his name. "Lauri Virtainen." The cat hadn't been entirely wrong, there were aspects of the half-youma's biology that had looked absolutely fascinating, but he was still getting used to having the Mauvian ability to mask auras. Bob was lazy and often not around, and while Tiberius came by as often as the Finn would tolerate, he obviously belonged to another.
Faustite - Elex - was young, but not surprisingly so. Both sides recruited teens on the regular, in a war there was no morality against such a thing. In fact, it could be said that the White Moon had less grounds to stand, as they seemed perfectly content to bring toddlers into their ranks while those serving Metallia tended to aim for those at least in the double digits age-wise. Did the darkness under his eyes come from lack of sleep or the magic that barely held his true form in check? Had he always looked so puckish or was that a side-effect of the youmafication? Lauri's mind spun with questions that went nowhere as he stepped further back, the second - and last - 'invitation' that would be afforded his guests.
"You are lucky you are rare and clever, cat." Tiberius was easy to puzzle out, no further expenditures were necessary to parse the driving forces behind the Mauvian, but here was a wholly new element. Faustite. The Finn watched him with some measure of interest, assigning him some measure of respect to start simply because of the way he attended the s**t cat. It was enough that Lauri put some effort into engaging him civilly, "Drink?"
Tiberius was wiggling his fat, fuzzy a** around in Elex's arms, trying to get down "C'mon - to the kitchen! It's just there, to the left. Past those stupid couches, c'mon Smokestack, move your boney assssssss."
As though Lauri weren't already leading the way towards said kitchen, as though Elex required guidance in the open space with its epoxied floors, stairs leading up to a sectioned off upper area, garage designated space, and skeleton frames denoting other spaces not yet completed. Obviously, the warehouse was a work in progress. "So you know, he can let himself in. His collar has RFID chip for the cat door." Which meant that the cat had some other purpose for wanting Faustite - Elex - to be there.syrieeeeeee will get the next post up in here
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Posted: Thu Mar 01, 2018 10:55 pm
Super Sailor Aue. Formerly White Moon. Kamacite wasn't lying.
Not that he could — not with that impotence hanging him like a noose.
The rapidfire exchange of blithe affronts went without Faustite's — now Elex's — interjections. Ever preferential for staying quiet around the new and unstudied, Elex simply slipped beyond the boundaries of the warehouse at Lauri and Tiberius' insistence. His concentration strayed from the shifting, amorphous blob of conning fur in his arms to the epoxied newness under his feet. None of the warehouse betrayed a speck of dust, grease, or even the blood from his earlier visit. And for someone so demonstrably gruff and tantalizingly grease-stained in work, Elex expected a minimal mess at best. Perhaps he had a housewife.
Not that the rest of the place contained a fleck of femininity — all hard lines and bold masculinity adorned each edge in the warehouse. Workspaces fostered only the useful, with aesthetic considered only in passing. For as much as a house spoke of a person, Elex determined that Lauri was a man of function over form.
Elex looked past Lauri toward the kitchen upon hearing the ask. "Tea," he answered readily. "Unless it's Lipton. Then water." No mention of drinks on hand. Bad hosting etiquette. Worse attitude. Insults others in front of guests. You never have guests, do you?
You would like Stroud, too.
Finally he tired of the Mauvian's constant wrigglings and retired the overgrown feline to the floor. Where Tibs chose to wander from there was irrelevant — unless he meandered specifically into the oven. He supposed his transportation job was concluded, then, and any further interaction was of inconvenience to the pair. Better to take his tea and leave, he supposed.
One hand found the counter and he leaned with bony hip against its surface. Licking his lips, Elex scowled at the conniving furbag with Lauri's first comment. Why, then. What are you after. Did Schörl put you up to this? "He must not fit anymore. Too fat off his idleness." His coldly appraising gaze followed the puff, jaw set in quiet contemplation. You were around once when I was near Quartz. You're not as oblivious as I wish you were. Was it for the show? How crass.
"He said you were White Moon." Soon, his heel started bobbing a soundless rhythm, a meager backdrop to an uncomfortable shift. An old restlessness found its home in avian bones while his searching mind prodded the warehouse. Whichever path took him further from the Finn was the preferred one. "It looks like a recent change. What was the transition like?"
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Posted: Sat Mar 31, 2018 2:20 am
Despite his brusque mannerisms and lack of hosting abilities, Lauri actually had guests more often than one might imagine - although they tended to be unsavory sorts that he didn't have to treat well. Those that did require care in handling either accepted the Finn's nature as Elex had and dealt with it for as long as was needed to complete their business, or they simply left. Either suited Lauri, he was disinclined to adopt a bubbly, cheerful persona within his own home to give another some slight comfort.
They were lucky he wasn't wandering around in his goddamned underwear.
"Twinnings." Opening one of the suspended cabinets, Lauri pulled out a black mug with white text proclaiming that the contents had a chance of being vodka. Glass acquired, he opened a second cabinet and began to read labels to his cat-carrying guest, "Earl Grey, Ceylon orange pekoe, rooibos, or...lemon and ginger?" Lauri's mouth twitched in irritation at the final box - occassionally things ended up in his warehouse that he didn't purchase. It was usually by Kat's hand, be it as a prank, an honest gift, or some weird combination of the two.
While he waited for Elex to decide, he could refill the Keurig's water chamber in preparation for heating the water needed. Will he b***h? Some did when offered tea and then given something not made using a kettle, but Lauri wasn't going to change tacks.
"Oh come on Sourpatch, at least break out the kettle for smokestack here, doesn't he deserve that much?" Freed from the prison of the half-youma's arms, Tiberius sauntered over to the fridge and made use of what appaeared to be a leather thong attached to the lower corner with his teeth, opening the ice box so he could finesse a cellophane wrapped chunk of cheese from one of the shelves.
"You can thank me later kid." Tiberius kicked the stainless steel door closed once he'd moved clear of it and looked over at Elex knowingly, tail straight up and with a proud bit of curve that said he knew. The Mauvian picked up his prize and trotted over to a lidded trashcan that he used to help scale the countertop whereupon he used claws and teeth to daintily open the transparent wrap so as to get to the dairy inside.
Already Elex was getting restless and weird, but maybe it would be fine. If not...well, he was a cat. A brilliant cat. He could figure something out. It was for Smokestack's own good, after all.
The idea that Tiberius wouldn't fit the Mauvian entrance had the Finn shaking his head - there was no way. But Elex wouldn't know that...and it was plausible, if one did not know. The cat was fat - and eating his good cheese, the little s**t! Lauri chuckled and went to the recently raided fridge to get himself a can of beer, cracking it open and taking a pull before saluting Elex with it. "I can show you, after your tea. It is not so small." Once more the Finn gave Elex an appraising look, "You would fit, you are small enough like this. Not the other way." He made a vague gesture at his bare back to indicate Faustite's pipes, they would have gotten in the way probably, had he tried to enter through the 'cat door'.
"Joo, I was White Moon." With a bit of a sigh, the brunet turned and bent to dig out his kettle. Tiberius was right, Elex wasn't some shmuck - he was an officer. He deserved a goddamned proper cup of tea, which was why the Finn found himself filling said kettle and setting it on the range to heat as they spoke. "I think my...experience is not usual." Clearly, he was not comfortable speaking of himself or his private life, but the effort was being put forth.
"I had much time to plan and prepare. I had life as 'Lauri' set up and ready to go, along with my former identity's medical history, relevant data, and so forth. For me, this has been strange, but not over difficult." Having been able to prepare really had made a great deal of difference, he believed. Just being able to set up a new life so that he could slide into it and have some financial stability, a place to live, and a past that was only partially fabrication...that had made it easier for him to adjust. As had having his packmates. Kat especially, since he'd entrusted 'Lauri' to her before Axinite had put his hand into 'Pasi's' chest to begin the process.
Lauri took another sip of his beer, "It hurt like a b***h and I forgot how to speak English for some days. It came back quickly, I'm told." He shrugged a bit, "I was willing. I asked for this." Demanded it, actually. Labyrinthite and Wolfeite had just left him hanging for a year until he'd pushed the issue with as little subtlety as possible without quite reaching outright insubordination. Not that he didn't understand the why's behind their reluctance: he did: it made sense to keep your informant as long as you could, but he'd hated every blasted minute of his time as an informant. Pretending to be friendly and talking with the Order morons was just not something he'd ever wanted to do.
Safer topics for the Finn were anything but his own situation, so he turned to Elex's non-glamoured form. "How long have you had the hardware?" Again, he gestured at his own back with his beer-holding hand, then Elex's; scratching idly at his stomach with the other like the primate he'd evolved from.Strickenized Craig is being a d**k, so if any of this doesn't make sense I'm sorry. I really wanted to tag you tho ;w; P.S. tibby is mentally going "look at him. he's so pretty. looook. check out his happy trail, you thirsty little bugger" while lauri is just like 'dont trust the cat/beer is life/gdi i guess i gotta use the ******** kettle'
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Posted: Sun Apr 01, 2018 3:58 pm
Elex blinked at the selection offered. Ironic that the Senshi of lemons owns a lemon-based tea. I wonder if that's your doing, Tiberius. It wouldn't escape you — or your deviousness. "The pekoe will do, thank you."
And as the cat marched further into the warehouse, complaining all the way, Elex followed at a less brazen clip. Already the cat bemoaned some of Lauri's behaviors, though the guest was inwardly thankful for such catches. Was he really trying to skip out on the kettle? What was he going to do, microwave a bag in a teacup and consider his hospitality concluded? Elex cringed inwardly at the thought — and at Tiberius' bid to thank him later. Likely the cat will expect some offering in return, as if Elex consented to a deal. The alternative would be finding himself on Schörl's ever-broadening radar. He loosed a slow, quiet sigh.
Elex spent the broadening minutes on the warehouse itself — the vastness of it, Lauri's taste in decor options, the myriad ways it was fitted for easier cat use and abuse. Abuse came to mind quite abruptly when he sighted the cat with the cheese, now digging in unbidden and entirely too brazenly for Elex's tastes. The cheese had a waft to it like the imported kind; he imagined it was rather expensive for such a brick. Now the cat destroyed it with teeth and tongue. So it goes.
He spared only a cursory glance toward Lauri in his salute, choosing instead to settle his gaze on the crux of a distant window. His arm found a table rather easily, and nails skated across its surface in a conscious effort against tapping.
But beyond Lauri's covetous body, he harbored an interesting, if tumultuous, background to his Negaverse career. To have transferred from informant to fulltime agent belied a certain degree of trust, paradoxically. That they allowed him to accept a rank equivalent to a captain and enjoy all of its perks and responsibilities placed an untoward amount of certainty in what was effectively a traitor. But Benedict Arnolds often prospered through history too, even if the namesake himself did not. That he stood in his own warehouse with fascinating technology available to Mauvian and human alike was testament to that implicit trust. Perhaps there was something different about being corrupted — something that rendered a duplicitous mind to be more malleable for the Negaverse.
He didn't press the topic, however; not with Lauri asking after his own troubles in exchange. His gaze found Tiberius, mentally petting him while he wound through the old memories.
Silently he counted the months on his fingers. "It's been a while. Five or six months. They're still sore sometimes." A pause filled the space as he licked his lips to answer. "When I was promoted, I couldn't breathe. Like someone filled my chest with water. A general stabbed a pen into my back and smoke came out." Fingers bloomed in an explosive demonstration.
"General Schörl completed the surgery. I don't remember it. But they're ventilation — like an exhaust system. My body produces smoke all the time." Idly he reached back to trace the cusps of feeling, where glamoured skin stretched over the holes with no imparted nerves. Finding the edge of it produced a tingling — the twilight between numbness and sensation. "Perks of being half-youma. My body can't cooperate with itself." Not without outside assistance.
He swept away from the counter, crossed the space, and reunited with the feline now devouring his poached cheese. Leaning in, Elex scratched Tibby's neck while whispering into one of his ears. "Get him to put a shirt on."
Straightening, he cast a question sightlessly at his newest acquaintance. "What were you working on?"
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Posted: Tue Jun 12, 2018 12:57 am
Hospitality would never be the Finn's forte - the species and gender of the 'guest' notwithstanding. Tiberius continued lapping at the expensive, pungent Kaltbach Gruyère, tearing small pieces of the dense cheese off and air-chewing them to force the pieces down whenever bits stuck to the keratin spines on his tongue.
As delightfully engaging as the cheese was, the Mauvian made certain to observe fully the interaction of the humans before him. Lauri with his Finnish gruffness, his lack of anything resembling 'American' social graces (if he had Finnish ones, the cat could not say), and the way he clashed against the smoother surfaces shown by Elex and his spoiled poshness. With all the glorious interest and obvious distraction being suffered with having the attractive Finn shirtless as a delightful cherry atop the sundae. Bless teenage hormones for entertainment.
What a fantastic time this is shaping up to be. Tufted ear flicking at warm breath and whispers; Tiberius' tail-tip twitching with amusement at his chariot's request. If he asked, the Finn was sure to stay shirtless, but Smokestack didn't know that. Even better was knowing that having pants on was actually a rarity for Lauri and that Elex was actually quite lucky Lauri hadn't answered the door in his underwear. Little revelations that would come later, if at all.
Tiberius was planning to savour each one.
The glamoured half-youma's explaination was listened to with a quiet intensity that bespoke full attention paid; Lauri only turning away from the conversation as the kettle shrieked in readiness to be used. One of the orange pekoe tea bags was added to the black mug, pinned at the bottom gracelessly with a spoon so it wouldn't float around while the boiling kettle water was poured onto it.
A great deal of fascinating information had just fallen into his lap, including the bit where sometimes the fusion between youma and host could be less than optimal for survival for the resultant being. He hadn't known that such a thing could happen - the idea was fantastical. Strange that Metallia would allow such a thing, or that the Chaos magic would provide such an inhospitable set-up. It was fascinating stuff and his calloused fingers itched to break such mysteries apart and solve them - to delve secrets and bend them to his will...or at least learn to manipulate them more efficiently. That Faustite's form used exhaust pipes much like the engine of a car or motorcycle was not lost on him - sleek and shiny, metal in all it's glory. Could he improve on what General Schörl had set into his skin? Would doing so be useful or practical? "Ventilation, hmm..."
How much hardware is merged with 'wetware'? The Finn was an engineer, a mechanic - not a surgeon. He could field medic when necessary, but it was not his forte, nor his inclination to spend more time working with the slippery insides of another person than he had to unless in the pursuit of a favored hobby.
Surgery was not it.
Lauri frowned slightly at the mug as his mind took several tracks of thought, finally settling on the easiest series of questions for forward focus: How long did tea even steep this way? Was he expected to manage that? Likely not. Hospitality settled for the moment, the Finn could return to his beer - no. Sugar or whatever. He will be wanting this, with his kettle. What is even here...agave syrup, sugar. At least there is milk.
"Sourpatch, put some ********' clothes on, would you?" See? He'd triiiiied! Honest!
Asking after the way Elex took his tea had to wait-- the shitcat was being a troll. "Ei. My home. I wear what I want." Lauri went to the fridge again, "Do you have milk in tea? Sugar?" Might as well pull the carton out, just in case Elex did want milk but was going to be too shy to say anything.
"Fixing motorcycle. Gearbox is ******** to hell and back." He shrugged; there was so much more wrong with the bike than just the gearbox having a broken chain and stripped gears, but people tended not to look like Elex looked whilst enjoying the minutia of automotive mechanics. "Probably this is why you are here. Mechanical parts. I can mechanic." Lauri crossed his arms over his chest and leaned back against the countertop, sizing up boy and cat once more.
Tiberius sprawled out on the cool counter, a puddle of pleased fluff. "He's an engineer. Builds robots, fixes cars and builds s**t. He even built a sauna in this damn warehouse because he's just that Finnish."
The Mauvian licked delicately at the now-deformed cheese block, expression beatific, "He's pretty good for a human, I guess."
Forget beer. Lauri pulled another glass down from the cupboards and returned to his fridge to break out the vodka. "Tämä vitun kissa ajaa minua juomaan." Another salute, this time for both cat and boy.Strickenized i blame all ******** on craig and so should you
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Posted: Tue Jun 19, 2018 10:42 pm
How crass. Elex tried for a quiet sigh. Modesty in front of guests must be lost on Lauri — perhaps a casualty of corruption or simple lack of learned courtesy. Elex couldn't guess — didn't want to. Couldn't think. He looked to the cat instead, a safe and simple focal point through the noise of milquetoast conversation.
He hated that he couldn't jump the rails of trained conversational points. Lauri could, however, and dodge pointless carapace for the meat of their conversation.
But Elex harbored no real reason for visiting Lauri at his home. The cat invited him along with a request of transport, with seldom more than the necessities painted of Lauri's life, and the rest was simple circumstance. Politeness. The most he collected out of idly following along with Tiberius' whims was a networking expectation — a familiar Negaverse senshi on which he could call if Schörl herself wasn't available. A potential peer in the instance of another operation.
"Milk, no sugar," he volunteered at last.
His gaze fell to his hands before reaching Lauri, focused intensely as it was on his eyes. As he spoke, he moved incessantly — head cocked, hands dancing out assistives to his words. "You're right. That's part of it. Not being able to breathe is crippling — I know this. I spent enough time crawling along Citadel halls and rasping for breath until my general found a solution. But I don't know how long it'll hold. If something…" Elex shook his head slowly. "Might happen. You're another answer to the same problem, volunteered by Tiberius." Elex once again looked to his hands for all the pared-away listlessness. For all his inadequacies painted over in a computer-tan white.
But vodka, clear in its betraying bottle, came out, and Elex's expression sobered. He looked to the tea mug steeping on the counter and felt half-tempted to invite disaster. "I'll pay you for your work."
He never paid much heed to the multithousand-dollar technologies buried beneath blood and bone, preserving the few that would otherwise die without human engineering. Stephen Hawking still lived and breathed and deliberated using a simple computer to deliver groundbreaking theories. Elex never once considered he'd see that same disadvantage, just as he never dreamed of losing parts of himself to a shadowy otherworld.
And now he faced a Finnish engineer, half-blank and shirtless, and had to swallow his own impulses to keep coherence. At least there's tea. "I'll tell you what I know of the specifics. It'll take some time." His pocket watch was pulled and placed on the counter nearest him, ever ticking down to the devil's hour.syrie fade to black with explanation times so we can CLOSE THIS OLD b***h
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Posted: Sun Jul 01, 2018 11:09 pm
Finnish, Tiberius decided not for the first time, was an ugly-a** language and should be banned from scraping it's way across his delicate pinnae and into his brain. With a huff he poked a panel on his left bracer open, fiddling with some arcane-seeming tech underneath. A moment later the cat's own digitized voice spat out: "This ******** cat drives me to drink."
"I love you too, Sourpatch. I hope you get alcohol poisoning, or some really nasty STD from that mongrel of yours." The cat watched Elex and the Finn doing their little human dance, enjoying himself with bites of the cheese - he would make sure to divest himself of several in various locations about the warehouse before leaving - and flicked his tail imperiously. What more could he input now they were talking shop?
Elex moved constantly, tics and twitches and restless motion as though he might overheat if he had to stay still. Maybe he would, as a side effect of the glamor and not having access to the ventilation pipes. There was no telling with half-youma.
Milk, no sugar. He could add it himself, then - or was Lauri expected to complete the serving? Yes, of course he was.
Lauri added milk to tea, stirring the pale concoction before offering it as gracelessly as he'd accepted Elex into his home. Listening to the half-youma was far more interesting, enough so that when the pocket watch ticked down the witching hour he insisted the cat provide service in exchange for the expensive cheese devoured so that they might continue hashing out details, the Finn long since having moved them all to his workshop for measurements, sketches, and discussion of materials.
The pair were only released when the last details had been absorbed, collected. Leaving the Finn with a mind full of possibilities and work to be done.
An alloy, yes. Nothing else will hold heat so well. Look into what is used on the space station? Expensive, but worth it. Pick alternates too. Molybdenum, maybe? Carbon fiber is tough but has a lower melting point...good for venting... Maybe tantalum carbide? No, he wouldn't need something that resistant... It would be wasteful. Cool, but wasteful...
Lauri sat at his workshop bench with a beer and a notepad, making notes long into the night.FINN
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