bakerstreet | All Lost and Unloved Things. Like You.

Entry tags:

[meme] gen

All Lost and Unloved Things. Like You.

WELCOME TO SAKAAR

How did you come to be here? No one quite knows. What is known is that no one leaves this place. Because you are home. Just try to steer clear of the natives. And the scrappers. And maybe don't get noticed by the guy who runs this places. Or maybe do. I hear he throws awesome parties.

RNG of that's your bag:

01 - CRASH LANDING: Congratulations. You have arrived on Sakaar. You are no longer lost. Too bad that landing is never easy for anyone. Hopefully the first face you find is a friendly one. If someone asks you if you are a fighter of food...don't run. That means food.

02 - PRISONERS WITH JOBS: Oh. Too bad. You got picked up by the wrong sort and sold off and now you must fight for your life. Tough break. At least you're pretty low in the ranks so you won't have to fight anyone too nasty. Yet. For now, you just have to sit and prepare for the next fight in a freaky circle with everyone else.

03 - FIGHT FOR YOUR LIFE: You can't sit around waiting all day. The fight's gotta start at some point. At least they've given you weapons. Whether or not you know how to use them is another story.

04 - CONTEST OF CHAMPIONS: Perhaps by chance you're not IN the fight, but a spectator. Dragged in with the rush of the crowd or there willingly. Maybe grab a drink from the bartender robot. Just don't get your eyebrows singed off when you open that bottle.

05 - IT'S A SCRAPPERS LIFE FOR ME: Scavenging the trash for treasures or fighters isn't so bad. You get paid well and don't have to get in that ring to fight. Provided you bring back the goods and those goods don't try to start a revolution.

06 - WINNING FAVOR: You got lucky. Falling in at the right place at the right time. You get to kick back in luxury. No fighting. No digging through trash. Parties all the time. Just try not to get on anyone's bad side.

07 - WILDCARD: It's a trash planet. Anything is possible.

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

Well, if that isn't someone who just dropped into this place.

Someone who- his thoughts want to continue, but they come to a screeching halt when he notices something quite important about the person at the bottom of the garbage pile that he's standing on, surveying the area for hints about treasure or new fighter material.

Huh.

He squats down. "It's been a while since I've seen a Garou arrive here," he comments. This may or may not turn out to be a find in the end, but at least he can give them the rundown of this place.

"Christamighty. Who th'hell kicked me?" she groaned, finally stirring on her bed of trash. There's no disputing the fact that she's been keeping company with too many Bone Gnawers when she starts waking up in dumpsters.

Or was it a landfill? Oni squinted gingerly, sharp eyes taking in the slope of refuse all the way up to the man speaking to her. What had he said, exactly? Alarm bells were ringing urgently in her back-brain, but the she-wolf's synapses weren't quite firing yet.

Garou. He'd called her a Garou, and Oni's eyes narrowed in automatic suspicion, "Do I know you?"

She's been through her fair share of interdimensional shit-holes. Waking up in strange places with no recollection of how she got there is all part and parcel of being a Silent Strider. And yet, as her gaze swept past him-- Up to the turbulent rectum in the sky, spewing out hot garbage and what looked like bits of... Air planes? No. Space ships?-- All that worldliness went right out the window.

"What th'fucking shit is that?" she pointed, half-falling, half-backpedaling down the trash heap. Naturally, the ahroun was inclined to roll with the punches, pun intended, but this? This didn't seem like the type of mess she could punch her way out of.

"They call it Sakaar." He doesn't follow up with her, keeping a safe distance between them for now. He has no interest to get up into a stressed out Garou's personal bubble without any need to do so. "We're very far away from Gaia here." For one. There are many other things to mention here, but that's probably an important fact to start with.

"Sakaar?" she says, trying out the unfamiliar word. Oni finally tears her eyes away from the portal to look at Colin; Now that she's definitely awake she can tell that he is Gaia's chosen, same as her, but, even if she couldn't, it'd be obvious from the words he chose next.

"What do you mean, far from Gaia?" she asks, her voice growing sharper on every other word. Since he's pointed it out, she can feel it-- the absence of the connection they all had Great Mother. Could she even change? "How far?"

((ooc: I am so sorry for the delay!))

"Your guess is as good as mine." The topic doesn't bring him particular amounts of joy, and since he could get no proper data past a few base observations, it's being pushed aside firmly most of the time. But sometimes, it then needs to be dug back out.

As it is, he'll just give all the material that he has on the topic. "Close enough that changing is still possible, far enough that it is very hard, even when you're aiming for your breed form. And that's how it is with most things - nothing is entirely impossible, but not far off. It changes, though. Sometimes it is suddenly easier again, and then entirely impossible for a while."

He reaches up to push the scarf that is wrapped around his head off, revealing the blind eye on his forehead, both to make a point and because he'd only remembered it just now. It's been so long that he's seen another Garou that the social rules governing the display of the marks of being a metis are almost forgotten.

"I haven't been back to my breed form in months because I almost didn't manage to get back to homid last time. You never quite know what'll be in five minutes - I don't know what exactly causes the changes, though."

"I sincerely doubt that." She's only just woken up on this glorified garbage heap, after all. For all she knows, his time in Sakaar could've exceeded hers by a mere ten minutes. Her gut tells her it's been longer than that, but how much longer is difficult to guess by just looking at him.

The information he has about changing is much more useful and, for a second, she weighs the risks in trying it-- On the one hand, she should know how difficult the task is. On the other, she may very well find herself stuck. Not the worst thing in the world, as Homid has its uses, but the idea of being limited to one form chafes her.

"What about other Gifts? Have you been able t'use any of them?"

She was just starting to march back up the mound of trash, closing the distance between them when she sees his third eye and the sight literally stops her in her tracks. 'Metis. Metis metis metis,' her back-brain screams. It's not his fault, she knows that. He didn't ask to be born. But she also knows what could happen if he frenzied, and so she'll treat him with caution for now.

"Jesus... Wait, did you say months?" she asks, horrified. Then her mood shifts from horror to a kind of cold fury, teeth clenched, "I'll be damned if I'm gonna stay in this stinking pile of shit for fucking months," she snarls, climbing the rest of the way up the hill to Colin, and then past him, hoping to get some sense of the lay of the land from up there.

"The same. Sometimes they work, sometimes they don't, and sometimes the mere attempt knocks you out.

...Also, moon phases seem to be erratic, or perhaps we're just only very rarely close enough to her to feel her presence as we should." Nothing works and everything sucks, essentially.

This includes her reaction when she comes closer, presumably spotting the third eye. He winces faintly - as used to it as he should be, it's been so long since he saw another Garou, he had... He had wanted for one to show up, and forgotten all that comes with it.

"And well, there's always the arena if you want to get off this dumpster." Though, to hopefully nib interest in that in the bud: "I mean, if you don't mind literally belonging to someone else and not being allowed to choose your battles."

"Va te faire foutre," she blurted out, without thinking, "So. No changing, no Gifts, nothing. Boy, this just keeps getting better and better."

She saw him flinch, and she wasn't so freaked out that she didn't feel at least a little shitty for it. For all she knew, they were the only two of their kind on this... Planet? Dimension? Whatever. The least she could do was not alienate him. "Thanks... For tellin' me what's what. Beats th'living hell out of findin' it all out th'hard way."

"Arena?" Oni scanned the horizon, hoping to see it, but it was either a long way off or obscured with trash. She didn't know what she thought was going on there; Space Olympics? Some American Gladiators bullshit? His words doused her like cold water. "You mean slaves," she grit out from between clenched teeth, her whole body going rigid with suppressed rage.

Turning on her heel, she looked him up and down, assessing him. Had he been enslaved? She could think of nothing worse for Garou, but she didn't see any obvious signs of bondage. Furthermore, if he'd been forced to fight, he looked none the worse for wear. "Is that what's happened t'you?"

"No." The word comes quickly, and sharply, and if he was in lupus form, his ears would be tipping forward right now. He might have sunk low to survive, but he's managed to avoid that. Has sunk low to avoid that specifically, too. "I'm free."

As much as he sometimes thinks that it would be more comfortable not to be. Try to get captured, hope for the best. Some get lucky and live in luxury. His chances at one of the elites picking him out to be one of their own sinks with every day that he avoids capture and digs around the garbage, selling and trading what he can for what he cannot find.

But it's just not an option he can ever see himself taking. There's a definite element of shame involved with living like this, but it is still the preferable option by far.

She wasn't expecting that outburst, the sudden flash of his temper like fire in a pan, but perhaps she should have. Cut off a wolf's head and it still has the power to bite. Oni looks at him then as if really seeing him for the first time, and her lips twitch at the corners, twisting into a savage grin, "Good."

His anger is useful. And whatever he may think of his day-to-day existence, the knowledge he's already demonstrated about this place is useful too. "What's your name, Metis?" she asks, her tone changing from general bewilderment to one he may recognize from other ahroun. One that would brook no opposition. "And your moon phase."

They may not have the benefit of their Gifts, but his auspice would tell her where his strengths lied.

((ooc: I'm so sorry for taking so long! Things got crazy with family stuff! I'll understand if you don't want to continue))

He settles down a bit with her response. That's dealt with.

"I'm Colin." Not much of a name, if you track its origins in his life, but it is a name, and it is the name he has. It's a good name, because it is his. "Colin Stormfinder, Theurge of Fianna."

He leaves a pregnant pause after that, silently prompting her to return the introduction.

He's been here, by himself, for what feels like a lifetime, but that doesn't mean that he's forgotten basic manners.

[I'm just happy to get to continue this thread, really.]

Considering their circumstances, it might seem a little ridiculous that they were taking the time for introductions-- useless pageantry, she's said on more than one occasion --but there was some comfort in doing what was familiar.

"A theurge?" she said, glancing pointedly at his third eye, "Of course you are." Inwardly, she snorted. How she hadn't guessed his auspice when it was literally and figuratively staring her in the face, she couldn't say, but she would have to trust his insight. Or try to.

Because like it or not, whether he realized it or not... As far as Oni was concerned, he was her Theurge now.

"I'm Onida Races-The-Wind, Ahroun and Silent Strider. But y'can just call me Oni."

"We're gettin' th'fuck out of Dodge, Colin. I don't know how t'do that so, unless you do, I suggest we find someone who knows more than we do and convince 'em t'talk." If that made him uncomfortable, she was perfectly willing to do the persuading. Oni may not have her shapes, nor any of her Gifts, but the one thing she hasn't lost yet is experience. How much of it is applicable in Sakaar remained to be seen, but she wasn't giving up without a fight.

Well, she certainly is most definitely an ahroun. He sighs and shakes his head. "Do you really think I haven't tried to get back?

There's only one way, really, and that is impossible to achieve. We'd just end up either dead or enslaved." He frowns faintly, thinking.

They're two now. Does that raise their chances? Yes. Does it raise them enough? Probably not. "And even now that there's two of us," because going by this woman's behaviour, there is now two of them - which is nice. But also potentially suicidal. Seriously, this is a bad idea. Still... "it's still probably going to end the same. Not impossible any more, though."

"I know y'tried. But you were alone," she shrugged. "I know what that's like." Most Silent Striders were lone wolves, in between packs. But she'd been a 'lost cub,' fending for herself for many years until the Nation got their claws in her.

Oni didn't rush him as he mulled it over, weighing the odds in his mind. He was less than optimistic about their chances but, the way she saw it, what choice did they really have? They might die or be enslaved if they failed. They may be doomed to the same fate if they do nothing. Oni was willing to risk it, but she understood that Colin may feel differently.

"Not impossible," she said. Judging by the stubborn set to her jaw as she looked out over those rolling hills of garbage in search of landmarks or encampments, she's made up her mind. "I'll take those odds."

"So? Don't be a tease, Colin. What's th'one way off this rock?"

Huh. There's a thought.

"Where you with a pack right before you got here?" Two people isn't a pattern, but it could at least hint at one.

Not that that was the question right now, or even matters terribly much. Or perhaps it does, if even just in spirit. If the gate likes to pick up single Garou, maybe it's more likely to send a pair the other way?

"Anyway, the answer is pretty simple. Steal a dimension-diving ship. They just only exist in exactly one place that we can reach, are highly guarded, and I'm told pretty hard to fly. The last one doesn't worry me nearly as much as the rest of it." There a brief grin, a flash of confidence. He's always been surprisingly good at technology for - well, everything that he is, and that was much exacerbated by being the technology expert of his pack for the last couple of years with them. Whenever they encountered something, it was upon him to figure it out.

Though that one probably says more about that iteration of the pack than him. Red Talons, artists, and hippies, the bunch of them.

And well. Then he came here and part of why he has survived this well and this independently is that he threw himself full force into trying to figure out the mechanics and technologies of this place without standing out.

He's pretty sure he could fly a Diver.

He's just a lot less sure that they would survive stealing one. "Even if we get into one, I'm sure they are locked on the inside somehow, and I don't know how easy it is to get them out of the dock. I just know they're among the best guarded things on this planet.

And there are a lot of things that we easily have at our disposal back home that we don't have here."

She shook her head. "Mm, no. Unfortunately."

Unluckily (or luckily, for them) she'd been on her own when Sakaar sucked her up. While she was glad they were safe-- as safe as any of their kind ever were --it'd have been nice to have the support of a full pack. Did they notice she was gone? Were they worried?

Were they doing something incredibly stupid, in her absence?

If asked, she might say that it felt like she were babysitting her packmates half the time. The rest of the time, they babysat her. It worked, for the most part.

"A ship. Y'mean like--" she pointed up, exactly as the gate spewed out something more mechanical refuse. Oni thought it could have been some sort of engine, but only Gaia really knew for sure. And of course, of course they were heavily guarded. Why wouldn't they be?

The ahroun quirked an eyebrow up over his confident smile, not quite cocky. Her tech-savviness only went so far as being able to MacGyver a few things in a pinch, send text-messages, and work the internet-- Though, no matter how many times her Glasswalker Galliard tried to explain, in pain-staking detail, why she shouldn't click the pop-up ads, she nearly always did. But it wouldn't surprise her if Colin had learned how to fly an alien ship, now that she knew his auspice. The need to know was much more deeply ingrained in him than it was in her.

Her specialty, if you could call it that, was in getting into places where she didn't belong, by hook or by crook-- or by right hook. "If y'can fly th'ship... I'll get you behind th'wheel." Dear god, was she really talking about flying? Now probably wasn't the time to mention the she-wolf lacked a certain fondness for being airborne.

"Jesus, what more could we possibly be missing, apart from Changing, Rage, or th'use of even a single Gift?"

"Changing, Rage, Gifts, a pack, a natural understanding of how things work... I'm sure I'm forgetting some." He pauses, and gestures vaguely with his hand, indicating the whole planet. "This place is different from back home, both socially and in other areas, in ways that took me a long way to learn to anticipate. And I'm still running into differences that I failed to expect every once in a while.

Did you know that the gravity here is slightly higher than back home? You won't be able to jump as far or as high." Just as an example that took him a long time to properly adjust to because the gauging of distances is often such a subconscious process.

"...Let's go and get you something to eat and drink before we attempt this, though. I need to gather some equipment and call in some favours, anyway."

"No, I didn't know that," Obviously, is the unspoken word, put there by her tone. She snatched up a bit of trash at her feet, roughly the size of a refrigerator door, and hurled it away from them both like shot-put on steroids-- Only partially because it felt good to take out some of her frustration on something. Her eyes watched it's descent until it crashed noisily into more trash. "So. It is different, after all."

Even knowing that, it was probably a problem that she was going to run into (literally and figuratively...) More than once.

Naturally, she was impatient to get started, and calling in favors sounded a little like adding in more variables that she couldn't anticipate or control. Oni was decidedly less than gung-ho about it but, having just done that, it was in their best interest to leave anyway. And eating first, whether or not he knew it, was especially wise-- It was insurance just in case, somewhere along the way, they got within spitting range of the spirits who liked to punish Silent Striders with especially heinous appetites when they over-did it.

"D'accord. We eat, you do what y'gotta do... Then we hit it." Did she have a plan? Absolutely not, but she had a black belt in winging it. Her not-plans went spectacularly wrong only sometimes. "Lead th'way, darlin'."

Calling in favours is also a necessity, here. There is no other way to achieve anything, really, and they are trying to achieve a LOT.

And thus he leads her across the rubble and towards a ...well, there's no better word for it. It's a slum. A small settlement, would probably be the friendly description, but a slum is what it is, built of what building materials could be found in the garbage with what skills the builder had.

The little shack he stops at actually has a lock, though it's probably more feeling than anything. Make it hard enough for people to not nip inside just because they can. Everything of value he carries with himself at all times, anyway. He unlocks the door and leads her inside - a makeshift bed, a makeshift table with a single chair, boxes and a brittle shelf in the corner. There's not much. "Sit wherever," he tells her and then goes to fetch a bottle of a liquid that is probably water and a box of cake as well as a tin of margarine.

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

All Lost and Unloved Things. Like You.

Oni Girard | Your Incrrrrrrrrredible Werewolf? | Ota

5

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject