I don't count. I'm not a human, you are. And the other expeditioners.
[ spiders monoco, who lives on a mountain and tears the feet off of nevron to use as an intimidation factor and can't sort out his own emotions regarding people, is an outlier and should not be counted. ]
[ like.. the fun part of being an expeditioner. "fun"?? the. you know. part of the team. that's what he meant. take the compliment. it was a compliment. welcome to the fun human emotion known as "friendship," monoco.
anyway, there's plenty of room. he's already got the "laying on the ground" part down, not even bothering with a bedroll. it's a miracle he hasn't dropped his Mysterious Texting Device That May Or May Not Be A Phone I Dont Know on his face, holding it up above him like that. (peep the red mark on his nose. he has dropped it. twice.) ]
[ hearing — reading — those words makes his chest ache in a way similar to before and for a long while all he does is stare at them. try as he might to either ignore it or run from it, the memory of expedition 65 and their final months around the station have always lingered somewhere in his mind. he remembers the day they'd presented him with one of their armbands as a gesture of good faith and friendship, along with the grandis living within. he remembers... a lot of things about them, really. their fascination with him as a gestral, the stories he had of a time before the fracture, the trains themselves, the station and its history, the love they showed one another (and him)—
their kindness.
he's never been human yet they were so ready to accept him as one of them, just like the so-called "disaster expedition" had the day verso called for him like the good old days. he thought he was done with them and yet here he was, standing from the fire with a creak in his joints to go rummage around in his bag that contained his own belongings (and half of verso's).
his approach is deathly silent until he makes himself known in the last ten paces, but he doesn't outright speak until he drops a bundle of cloth atop gustave's head. a blanket — borrowed — and he barely misses a beat when he takes a seat. ]
I'd say we'd settle this with a duel but there wouldn't be any honor in beating a sleep-deprived old man.
[ it's as good as any get cozy as he'll ever say. ]
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bakerstreet2025-05-22 09:00 pm
no subject
Back end of camp. Can't miss me, I'm the one laying on the hang on, "INTO"?
no subject
strange
[ fascinating!!! but good god he has seen some shit with them. ]
Though I suppose that one is more weird, isn't it?
no subject
I mean yes
I mean I'm going down a rabbit hole I may never escape now, noooo.
[ this isn't the monsterfucking he's looking for—HE WASN'T LOOKING FOR ANY (unless) ]
Monoco, I think it's safe to say you're the weirdest of them all, and I mean that in the nicest, most affectionate way possible. Probably.
no subject
[ spiders monoco, who lives on a mountain and tears the feet off of nevron to use as an intimidation factor and can't sort out his own emotions regarding people, is an outlier and should not be counted. ]
Make space over there. I'm coming over.
no subject
[ like.. the fun part of being an expeditioner. "fun"?? the. you know. part of the team. that's what he meant. take the compliment. it was a compliment. welcome to the fun human emotion known as "friendship," monoco.
anyway, there's plenty of room. he's already got the "laying on the ground" part down, not even bothering with a bedroll. it's a miracle he hasn't dropped his Mysterious Texting Device That May Or May Not Be A Phone I Dont Know on his face, holding it up above him like that. (peep the red mark on his nose. he has dropped it. twice.) ]
no subject
their kindness.
he's never been human yet they were so ready to accept him as one of them, just like the so-called "disaster expedition" had the day verso called for him like the good old days. he thought he was done with them and yet here he was, standing from the fire with a creak in his joints to go rummage around in his bag that contained his own belongings (and half of verso's).
his approach is deathly silent until he makes himself known in the last ten paces, but he doesn't outright speak until he drops a bundle of cloth atop gustave's head. a blanket — borrowed — and he barely misses a beat when he takes a seat. ]
I'd say we'd settle this with a duel but there wouldn't be any honor in beating a sleep-deprived old man.
[ it's as good as any get cozy as he'll ever say. ]