Karrie (Vandal) Norton (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
vandalization) wrote in ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png)
re_alignment_logs2012-07-21 07:07 pm
vandalization) wrote in re_alignment_logs2012-07-21 07:07 pm
Ave Maria [OPEN]
WHO: Karrie (VANDAL) and YOU!
WHERE: The Medbay; Solus Temple.
WHEN Sunday morning
WHAT: Vandal, awake and having broken her fever, is no longer in immediate danger of dying, so she decides to keep her hands busy.
WARNINGS: ... She's got a foul mouth when she's upset, but otherwise she's pretty tame. Also slight disturbing imagery.
Waking up in a hospital that's built for creatures far larger than yourself is jarring in and of it's own right. And Karrie is entirely impressed that she is waking up at all. Maybe this isn't a dream? She feels clear headed enough. And the pain tells her that she's very awake.
Can you have dreams inside of dreams? The desert... the white
She shakes her head, sliding off the small "bed" that had been made for her and fetching her Rig which was neatly laid out nearby. The wound at her side had been stitched. She could still feel broken ribs, though. Those would take time to heal, but this place is far too strange. Surreal... to be left unexplored. At least there's no necromorphs scuttling after her here. Not that she'd seen, anyways.
Nobody around. No robots. But signs of them. She slips out into open air outside, finishing gingerly putting her rig and helmet on. She may be safe now, but who the hell knows what's out here?
She won't stray far, rather balking at the idea of earning Ratchet's ire. Instead she wanders just as far as the edge of the junk pile, poking around for a while. Thinking.
She has to think. Despite not knowing what to even do with herself. She needs a focus. Needs to ask questions.
She begins gathering a few things here and there, and after about thirty minutes she's back in the med bay with a small bag full of what appears to be useless parts. Dumping them on the floor and sitting down like a kid with some brand new legos.
In an hour, the junk she'd picked up has been assembled into two box-like devices and set up on platforms at either corner of the room. And she's fiddling now with a smaller something- like TV remote, the holo-screen of her RIG floating in front of her, and the tools from her belt storage spread out around her amongst the left over, but neatly-sorted scraps of wire, batteries and little bits of tape that she'd scrounged up.
WHERE: The Medbay; Solus Temple.
WHEN Sunday morning
WHAT: Vandal, awake and having broken her fever, is no longer in immediate danger of dying, so she decides to keep her hands busy.
WARNINGS: ... She's got a foul mouth when she's upset, but otherwise she's pretty tame. Also slight disturbing imagery.
DO YOU SWEAR TO FOLLOW THE TEACHINGS OF UNITOLOGY?
I DO.
DO YOU ACKNOWLEDGE ALTMAN FOR HIS SERVICES TO OUR CAUSE, AS OUR SHEPHERD INTO THE PATH OF ASCENSION?
I DO
WELCOME TO THE CHURCH, MISS NORTON, WE ARE HONORED TO HAVE YOU AMONGST OUR GATHERING, PRAISE BE TO ALTMAN FOR DELIVERING YOU UNTO OUR CHURCH. MAY THE MARKER MARKER MARKER MARKER MARKER MARKER MARKER MARKER MARKER BLESS YOU, KARRIE NOW AND F O R E V . . .
Waking up in a hospital that's built for creatures far larger than yourself is jarring in and of it's own right. And Karrie is entirely impressed that she is waking up at all. Maybe this isn't a dream? She feels clear headed enough. And the pain tells her that she's very awake.
She shakes her head, sliding off the small "bed" that had been made for her and fetching her Rig which was neatly laid out nearby. The wound at her side had been stitched. She could still feel broken ribs, though. Those would take time to heal, but this place is far too strange. Surreal... to be left unexplored. At least there's no necromorphs scuttling after her here. Not that she'd seen, anyways.
Nobody around. No robots. But signs of them. She slips out into open air outside, finishing gingerly putting her rig and helmet on. She may be safe now, but who the hell knows what's out here?
She won't stray far, rather balking at the idea of earning Ratchet's ire. Instead she wanders just as far as the edge of the junk pile, poking around for a while. Thinking.
She has to think. Despite not knowing what to even do with herself. She needs a focus. Needs to ask questions.
She begins gathering a few things here and there, and after about thirty minutes she's back in the med bay with a small bag full of what appears to be useless parts. Dumping them on the floor and sitting down like a kid with some brand new legos.
In an hour, the junk she'd picked up has been assembled into two box-like devices and set up on platforms at either corner of the room. And she's fiddling now with a smaller something- like TV remote, the holo-screen of her RIG floating in front of her, and the tools from her belt storage spread out around her amongst the left over, but neatly-sorted scraps of wire, batteries and little bits of tape that she'd scrounged up.
no subject
It was whatever she could reach, and she wasn't exactly about to go examine his crotch or whatever. But when he stretches out like that she can sure get a better look at his knee and hand. His hand, particularly complex. She spends a good while leaning in and looking it over.
"Well shit. You're quite the honorable hero arn't you?" Not meant to be mocking. More just... stating the facts. He looked like some kind of samurai right out of- she has to think about it to remember, as she'd never been to earth. Just learned about it. Ah- Japan.
"Hey don't stop you were doing well. What about the words?"
no subject
That, no mater what mistakes he'd made in the past with that choice, he knew.
He watches her quietly as she studies his lower leg. "Are you a medic?"
It's strange to think of himself as something to be studied, stranger still to be almost admired. "No. I just try to do the right thing. Which isn't often easy."
He shrugs. "Just...seems hard to think of dying. Just like that before no reason."
no subject
She seems fascinated by the smooth joints she can see through the gaps in his knees. She resists the urge to touch this time, not wanting to hurt or bother him.
"S'not about death, Drift. It's about living, because shit happens. So you just live day to day and being a decent person. Doing the right thing. Just like you, right? You say it's not easy doing the right thing, but you sure do make it look effortless. S'actually a rare quality in people."
no subject
He tres to angle his leg to give her a better look. It was weird, but harmless.
"I guess I was just thinking that you should do those things, but not because you're afraid you could die or something." He's not getting the words right, at all. "It's not easy for me. I spent most of my life doing the wrong thing. Kind of makes you doubt..everything."
no subject
"I suppose so. And... hah. I know what you mean. You're not the only person in the room who's made mistakes, so whatever they are, it doesn't matter to me."
She pauses, hands withdrawing and dropping to her side. She sits down at last, next to him, an ironic smaller mirror of his posture.
"You're the first friend I've had in years, and I've only known you a few days, so fuck all if I'm going to judge you."
Not an easy thing to admit, but she was just that socially inept. It was what drove her to Unitology in the first place.
no subject
He gives a sort of bitter smile. "It's safe to say I've made mistakes longer than you've been alive.".
He wins!
"Don't be too quick to trust. But I give you my word, I won't hurt you." He's a little stunned by the 'friend' label. Not many on the Lost Light would use such a word for him.
no subject
"Don't play the 'who's the bigger fuck up' game with me, pal or I'll give you something to think about."
Yeah right, what could she, still injured and hopped up on painkillers, posibly hope to intimidate a giant robot with?
She softens and sighs, examining the gloves over her RIG.
"S'all I could ask of you."
Maybe she was too trusting. What an idiot- she thought Tyler was her friend. Threw her under the proverbial bus on that one without a second thought. She's just a tool.
no subject
"But you're welcome to try, anyway." Just a hint of a smile, not condescending.
"It's a lot to ask of anyone or anything." He shrugs. "World's a rough place, even without a war."
no subject
That earns him another weak punch.
"You wanna go, buddy? I'm sure I can take you." Obviously, she's not serious, but it feels good to casually joke like this.
"Well. For what it's worth I wouldn't hurt you either. Not that I viably could, but you know."
no subject
A long time.
"You can always try." He pushes gently at one of her shoulders, a scaled-down move of the slamming punch he'd give Wheeljack. "I'll even try to stay awake."
no subject
"Oh I was gonna let you off the hook but now we're gonna tango, mister."
She hauls herself up, looking him over and returning to his side. Since fiddling with his leg joints and the gaps therein didn't seem to be much of a bother to him (didn't hurt, he'd said), she finds the seam in his side and mischievously prods a finger in against whatever is under there. Hopefully she'll make a pest of herself, make him flinch or something.
She realizes, only shortly after, that's more of a human gesture, and she wonders how one would really make themselves a nuisance to a robot properly.
God she hopes this doesn't backfire into something awkward.how could this NOT backfire into awkwardville?
"GAAAAH!" He bolts upright, going rigid. That...tickles.
VANDAL ISNT THE BEST MAKER OF CHOICES HISTORICALLY
It's easy to duck under and dart her hand into the same spot again, wriggling her fingers.
"I dunno, you seem pretty awake to me, pal."
clearly
It's a legitimate strategy.
no subject
Yeah, Ratchet threat? What is he going to do, come rescue Drift from the awful human attack?
"Say 'uncle' and I'll stop."
It's weird how human these robots can be in so many aspects. Seriously? Ticklish? Who knew. Either way, he's not getting out of this one with his dignity as she redoubles her efforts with both hands.
no subject
"....what?"
no subject
She stops momentarily, keeping the threat over her hands there.
"Uh... when you're messing around, and you want someone to admit defeat, they're supposed to say 'uncle'. I honestly can't explain it."
Unknowingly, she is steeping this poor robot in human culture.
no subject
He grins. "Who says I'm admitting defeat?" Of course it's easy to play tough when you're not being tickled.
no subject
"Fine, have it your way. You asked for it. Honestly who's ever heard of a ticklish robot." Compared to pretty much everything else, all things considered, it's normal.
But she simply gets back to it, hands searching out new gaps and seams near his belly armor to attack.
what did we say about molesting Drift?
Not that it helps. He tries to stifle the laughing, his abdominal plating tensing downward.
"Not...going...to...surrender!" He's going to retaliate, pushing gently at her shoulder.
"Only on Tuesdays"? C8
The gentle pushing does very little to deter. She just twists under his hand and goes about her merry business.
no subject
He thrashes, ending up flat on the floor, laughing weakly. Humans are evil. This is proof.
no subject
What a sight. She's probably straining herself, halfway leaned over him, dealing out the vicious torment.
Who knew she could render a five ton pile of metal and blades helpless.
no subject
"All right! Stop! I give in!" He could possibly hold out for a bit longer, but he doesn't want to get Ratchet or First Aid in here, because it strikes him that this possibly looks really, really wrong.
no subject
At last, the engineer relents and pats his abdominal plating with finality before sitting down next to the flopped robot.
"What was the argument again?"