lostrealm | (no subject)

Characters: Signless, Disciple, Dolorosa, Helmsman and Psii [CLOSED]
Date: Any time from Dolorosa's arrival to the present
Format: Whichever!
Content Warnings: None for now
Summary: Life in the holy bros hive

It's not the easiest of arrangements, each of them having different rooms to stay in scattered about, but they've made it work somehow. Helmsman tucked in comfortably in a bed and Di and Signless bedding down on the floor next to him along with frequent visits to Psii to make sure that he's okay. And then Dolorosa arrived and took charge of mothercluckbeasting all of them, and with the amount of time they all spend trying to be close to each other...well. They're going to need to step up their efforts at getting their own place.

But in the meantime they're together, and that makes just about anything bearable.

((ooc: go ahead and post individual threads, just mark the where and when and whether they're open to the whole family or meant for someone in particular!))

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

[On the contrary, the shooting pains in his head give him every reason to be afraid. Of himself mostly, and the corrupt data throbbing in there.]

Helmthman Thythtem ith not a troll. Thythtem'th full dethignation ith Imperial Battleship Condethension Helmthman Thythtem.

[He winces from the pains. The waves in his shield become irregular.]

Thythtem ith in need of...

[Fuck if he knows. Sopor slime, maybe.]

Well I don't thee a fucking battlethip around here, do you?

[Losing his temper won't get them anywhere, he knows this. He takes a moment to close his eyes and just breath before he speaks again.]

Look around you. Look at yourthelf in the mirror. Actually thee what'th there.

[Way to remind him of his unfamiliar surroundings oh gawd need biowire security blanket now. Psionics raise his arms in the position they'd been in for only the last human century, and he covers himself as best he can with his wires.

[After a long pause, he remembers he's been given an order. He will oblige. It's painless compared to the others. He lifts his mirror with psionics. He parts his wires away from one eye, then both. Two eyes are better than one.

[It's like catching sight of a familiar face, unable to place its origin. So that's what he looks like. He does not remember caring about that until now. There is something about his face that baffles him.

[Ah, of course. He looks from the mirror to the alien. He fixes heterochromatic eyes on heterochromatic eyes. He looks at himself looking at himself.]

There'th two of uth.

[His tone is wondering. Even if the familiarity was unsettling, he sees duality for what it is: kind of fucking awesome.]

[He can't help but quirk a bit of a smile at that, at least he's getting somewhere now.]

There is. I am Captor, and so are you.

[He shudders and hides his face behind wires again. His voice is muffled and small.]

Thythtem cannot thtore uthername. Thythtem hath too many errorth. Thythtem ith corrupt. Thythtem needth to be reinthtalled. Thythtem ith broken.

[Alhen turns to face the other better, kneeling there next to the bed contemplating his next move. With a bit more care, he prods at the barrier.]

Uthername Alhen then. Put down your defentheth, I promithe I won't hurt you. Thythtem ith not broken. Jutht hurt.

Uthername Alhen thtored.

[That, at least, he can do. He lowers his arms and wires, but not his shield.]

Telekinetic piloting abilitieth remain the only thectorth not damaged. Memory, methageth, and organicth continue to malfunction. [Then, to himself in a quieter, shakier voice:] What ith wrong with m... [What's that? A personal pronoun? NOPE. Error.]