ain't seen the light since we started this band ( open )

[willrevile]

Who: Jim Kirk (willrevile) & others
What: Plot + adjacent stuff. My plotting comment is over here if you'd like to do something specific, otherwise I have a general open starter.
When: March!
Where: Mostly Wyver, probably.
Warning(s): TBA.


that cut was a fakeout sry.

Comments

( open! )

[willrevile]

( weeks 1-2 )

Jim's curious about the state of things in both cities, but circumstances have put him in Wyver for most of his time on this planet, so here he is. A good thing, too, because the abhorrent behavior of the Volkkra shamans finally being addressed is absolutely something he's interested in. (Finally, because the length of time this violence has gone on is nuts, in his opinion. He's tentatively glad for the government response, but he remains highly skeptical of the convenient timing.) Early on he can be found listening to the calls for volunteers, maybe getting into it with one or two vocal minorities, and fishing for opinions about the Knightryders vs Mythi's Fangs around town. He spends most of his time tracking down runaway shamans (whatever happened to that one guy he kicked in the face? eesh), an old hand at sidling up to people in bars for idle chatter. It's just always a toss-up whether he succeeds or gets a beer dumped over his head.

( week 3+ )

He tries not to let it, but guilt gnaws at Jim a little about having killed a chimera. Recovery for them seems like a pipe dream at best, and it was a decision they had to make, prioritizing lives, but killing never sits right with him. In a way, he's glad he feels unbalanced about it; Jim never wants to be desensitized to the point of not caring. He's destroyed enemy ships before full of beings, he's shot opposing combatants dead, and he's done so without hesitating - when he has to.

Is it a weakness? He doesn't think so, but even if it is-- that's fine.

Weakness, strength, whatever it is, it's why he's back at the damn altar helping to round up and transport surviving chimera, no phaser, just an ordinary refugee volunteer.

[ brackets are just as good if you prefer them! ]

Knightryders vs Mythi's Fangs

[maipokerface]

[Jim has hit upon one of the topics that really bugs Mai right now. What with both groups calling for shaman to be brought to them and the Knightryders looking somewhat suspect, she's loathe to trust either of them. So here she is, going around town and trying to figure out which of them she wants to put some amount of trust into. Or maybe she'll end up discrediting them both, who knows.

Asked for her opinion though, she'll huff out an amused breath to accompany the faint smirk that rises alongside of it.]

What do I think of them? Honestly? Beats me. Some people are all about the Knightryders, some people are all about Mythi's Fang. And frankly I'm stuck in the middle.

[willrevile]

One's officially sanctioned and one's like, whatever, right? [ Jim's been careful about keeping his inquiries casual, tucked in the midst of other topics, trying to stick to a variety of things someone recently moved in from a far-away colony (and where are those?) might be curious about. But this person seems like another refugee from another dimension-- he's not sure yet. ] Are they actually any different besides that?

[maipokerface]

Not that I know of. The Mythi's Fang seem a little shadier but then again that could be because they aren't officially sanctioned.

[She looks like she's mulling it over. Mai doesn't try that hard to blend in but she also doesn't do much to stick out either. Her clothing might look a little different but one could chalk that up to eccentricity, particularly since she's in red and black and that seems to fit Wyver fairly well.]

[willrevile]

So a police force versus a vigilante force, [ is his estimation, ] but equally culpable in having only belatedly bothered to address the serious violence going on in the city.

[ Jim makes a face. Why is everything so neatly balanced on this planet? Life's never black and white, sure, but the running theme he's getting is that there's no way to pick a side. ]

A missed opportunity for the Fangs, I guess. Though some people seem to be pretty keen on 'em.

[maipokerface]

People are always pretty keen on the outside movement.

[She's mostly thinking of the support the Ozai Society found at home.]

Something changes, something happens and it's immediately the government or whoever is in charge's fault.

weeks 1 - 2

[braidedwonder]

Duo is showing every bit of the emboldened attitude dragon's blood gives. The next time Jim might see him on the streets he's sporting a shiner on his left eye, hands and knuckles just as bruised, almost like he's been in a few too many street fights. The braided teen doesn't even seem to notice it all that much, not as quickly as he's shuffling up ladders to help people fix up their homes and shops in the shopping district. If his favorite fruit seller isn't too proud to ask him for a hand in fixing up his place and cart, he's definitely in for helping.

He spots Jim's familiar face in the crowd as the shopkeep's smaller daughter is having a hard time passing Duo a tool while he's balanced precariously on the roof edge, gesturing him over.

"Think you're tall enough to put that in my hand?"

[willrevile]

"I can certainly give it a shot," is the casual reply.

Jim's not as beat up as Duo - having run the worst of his gauntlet with an elf mage handy with healing spells - but he's got the faded remains of somebody having a go at his face, still. Or maybe he just walked into a door, who knows. He says hello to the shopkeeper's daughter, who dutifully hands over the tool so he can pass it up to Duo.

"Nice to see you with all your limbs mostly intact."

[braidedwonder]

Duo isn't quite as lucky - his typical, trusted healing type is over in Olympia and he hasn't quite summoned the energy to try and go there just yet. Not after all the fervor here and ... well, his condition and Heero's on top of it. It's easier to stay in place and just sort of .. heal in place. Find things to do in their little place for now and hope no one tries to uproot the two of them which.. could get messy for the third party in that equation. Either way he gratefully retrieves what he thinks he needs to get things back in to place, moving to squat down over what he's doing with a little laugh.

"Yeah, you too. This place isn't usually like this, so it's kinda a shitty introduction to it..." And that's putting it lightly, honestly.

"Hopefully you didn't have it too rough while things were sideways?"

[willrevile]

Healing is good. Healing is smart. It's always nice when the reckless ones have learned that lesson. (Sometimes, Jim hasn't. Mostly, though, he's pretty good.)

“I dunno,” Jim says with a shrug. “Seems like people are pretty comfortable with glorifying violence. But I completely get the whole terrorism thing isn't normal, there's definitely something weird going on with that.” The little girl is lurking nearby still, eavesdropping. He glances over at her, raises his eyebrows, and she pretends to be inspecting some nails. Uhuh.

With something like restrained laughter, he continues, looking back up at Duo: “Nothing I didn't live through. I'd say I have a worse impression of the shamans than the people of Wyver, though.”

for soldier 76

[willrevile]

Jim shows up to the cattle-call for volunteers headed by the Knightryders - he doesn't make any attempt to speak to Heryn, just listens, keeps to himself, mostly. There's talk of the man in charge having had something to do with the chaos in the first place, and why wouldn't there be? The authorities were all but totally absent during that mess, and the local culture encourages so much violent posturing that seems almost impossible for no one to have deliberately turned a blind eye.

And yet, at the same time, something about the assumption feels too easy. Ugh.

"This is the weirdest heavy metal hallucination anyone's ever had," Jim mutters to no one in particular, making to head out before the crowd gets too hyped up about the idea of hunting shamans. Not that he doesn't want in - he really, really does, given everything - he's just tired of Wyver's echo chamber.

[personalwar]

Given that 76 is here as a Ryder, he's got his ornate metal headpiece in place, which thankfully also covers up two-thirds of his face, from his eyes down. (How does he see through it? It's probably best not to ask.) He remains still and at attention as Heryn addresses the relatively small group. He hasn't had any chance to talk with the Ryder head himself, but at least this situation gives him the opportunity to form an opinion about him.

Once the speech ends, brief as it is, 76 also doesn't have any interest in lingering around. He heads out, happening to fall in step with another man who's mumbling to himself. The guy isn't wearing any sort of headpiece, so it sounds like he just came by to listen in.

Which probably means he's a refugee.

"Unfortunately, pretty sure none of this is a hallucination," he calls out dryly. When he first got here, he'd definitely wondered, but after all this time? He's had to face the reality of the situation.

[willrevile]

"'Unfortunately', huh?" Jim's quick on the draw with the banter, swerving his attention as if that was his plan all along. (It wasn't.) And while he might be somewhat obvious as a refugee, this other guy isn't, what with the headgear and all. "Not impressed with the past few weeks?"

There's no strict judgement in his voice, but it's a bit of a dare. Most of the locals who haven't approved have seem either solemn with their disappointment, or happy to have a new target for their attention in the fugitive shamans. (do u ever hate how the grammatically correct plural of something looks)

"Or do you just want a new uniform?"

Nice hat.

[personalwar]

It's bizarre for 76 to realize that he's reached the point where he can actually pass for a native Wyvern. It helps that he doesn't have his pulse rifle resting in his arms, although the handgun at his hip might be a tip-off.

He isn't impressed with the past few weeks, so he shakes his head at that question. The mask he has to wear when on Ryder duty doesn't really bother him; it's certainly preferable to having to show his face everywhere.

"If this was all just one bad trip, it'd mean our worlds weren't gone," he clarifies. Surprise, he's a refugee too. He fixes his attention more firmly on the other man, as they walk. "What do you want with the Ryders?"

[willrevile]

Oh – alright. That makes it clear enough. (Jim's pretty observant, but he's not quite got a handle on what weapons are strictly native or otherwise, having found himself thoroughly confused by bullet-firing pistols already.) His body language shifts slightly at the revelation, more honestly attentive.

“Allegedly,” is what he says about worlds being gone. Look, man, he's seen some weird shit. But he moves on, and shrugs. “I heard the cattle call to action, and seeing as I got dragged up to the ground zero horror show, I'm interested in seeing how it shakes out.”

[ ooc - i'm so sorry for the delay, i had some strugglebus days irl!! orz;; ]

for dutch

[willrevile]

[ It's bizarre, how quickly they swerved from one trajectory to another. Jim had felt the argument hovering between them like a tangible thing-- not surprising, given that they're strangers, ultimately, no matter that they had a fun night together. But that strange space where they were both clearly debating whether or not to back up off the thin ice or not had vanished in favor of: this.

Something about it bugged her. Badly.

Huh.

Well, Jim's at Dutch's place now, knocking on the door and leaning against the frame, watching the street behind him as he waits. When she opens it, she'll be greeted by a familiar face and a friendly smile, though bright eyes are dimmed slightly by the fact that someone got in a good whack to his face at some point recently. ]

Hey.

[motivation]

[ he's right: something about it bugs her, badly. the idea that there are beings stripped of their free will, turned into weapons or at least tools of violence and destruction -- it hits a little too close to home. she can tell herself that she wants to help because it's what johnny would do, but that doesn't explain away the anger burning inside her chest. this'll be an outlet for it, maybe.

she hopes it will be.

jim's at her door and dutch opens, taking in the bruise on his face and grinning a grin that stretches the cuts and bruises on her own. there's a bandage peaking out from underneath her shirt, too, but none of her injuries are going to slow her down unless she lets them, and she has no intention of letting them. of course not. ]

Hey yourself.

[ she's dressed in heavy leather, knives tucked away at strategic spots (the boots, at her belt, one in her hair) and a gun strapped to her thigh. bigger than a phaser; meaner-looking, too. ]

Let's go kick some arse.

[willrevile]

[ What a pair they make already, he thinks, taking in her banged-up face; it's not any misplaced chivalry that made him ask repeatedly about seeking medical attention. He'd ask anyone who admitted to having done what she did, and he's used to being the boss, after all. (Or mom, whatever. Go to sickbay. Don't touch that. Put that back. Stop swearing in front of the ambassadors.) ]

I don't know how much arse is left to be kicked, [ pushing away from the door. ] But it can't hurt to go take a look. Make sure people are actually doing what they said they'd be up to.

[ And not either ignoring it or making it worse, somehow. Jim's in what he's usually in, jeans and his jacket, phaser stuck inside the back of his pants. With a setting toggle it can cut through lesser spaceship bulkheads, so, you know. No need for gun envy. ]

How much of what was going on did you catch, after the fights?

[motivation]

[ you're not her real mom, jim!! (which is a good thing because her real mom is-- well, it's complicated.) ]

There's always some arse that needs kicking.

[ he pushes away from the door, dutch follows. her movements are smooth despite the injuries. ] Not that much. Care to fill a girl in?

[willrevile]

People started wanting to do blood sacrifices, and stopped being satisfied with their own blood. They wanted Olympian blood, specifically, but were happy to push anyone who objected into the fire just for spite's sake. Shaman from up on the mountain were handing out 'dragon blood' that were making people nuts, and also doing-- what we're going to go check out.

[ It's been .. A Week. Jim's exasperated with all of it.

Oh, and: ] Coincidentally, Olympia lost its shit at the same time with rioting and their hospital barricading its doors and refusing to aid anyone. Someone or something was riling people up with.. weird, rage-inducing fog.

for clark

[willrevile]

Jim's not as star-struck by the presence of dragons as he could be, given his experience with loads of alien animals and creatures, but there's still a spark of wonder about them - too steeped in old earth fairy tales and legends. Mostly, he's just glad there's nurturing work of some kind being done in Wyver when everything else seems so endlessly violent. He keeps it, and all the people who protested the awfulness over the past week, in mind.

Waltzing into the open and making himself a free delivery dragon snack seems stupid, and so Jim waits at one of the supply areas; he'd call it stables, if it weren't for.. you know, dragons. Resting with forearms against the top rung of a fence and watching the view, he raises one hand in greeting when he sees Clark heading over.

[apricitous]

Clark had invited Jim to meet him here, as much for convenience as to let him see the dragons. It was hard, sometimes, to see the good things about this world, and he'd found that animals in general, farm work, and the occasional fantastical miracle could do quite a lot of good for the soul. That's why he's in better spirits as he waves back and makes his way over.

"I hope it wasn't too hard to find."

[willrevile]

"Hard to miss. Once you start walking far enough, anyway." In the distance, something huge flaps its way across the open land, and it's.. kind of beautiful. From back here, anyway. Jim's not sure how he feels about getting close enough to see the pointy bits.

"Did any of the nonsense going on in the city reach out here?"

[apricitous]

"Unfortunately, it has it's reach everywhere, it seems like," and Clark's tone goes from pleasant and hopeful before slowly sinking. He hates that this is happening, and he hates that he has no real understanding of why. He hears the murmurs, hears the people, hears and sees the way they act and he just can't understand it. He can't understand the way this war has escalated from what seems like so very little.

And he knows it's going to get worse before it gets better.

[willrevile]

"Hey." Friendly-like. Jim sidles up, nudges him in the arm with his elbow, looks out at the view. "It's a problem. Problems have solutions."

Don't sound so totally morose. It's awful, but they'll be able to build from it, even if it does get worse. Which it certainly will. Jim's no blind optimist - not by far - but he's a determined, bullheaded worker.

"I wanted to check up on you, mostly. And ask how the investigative journalism's going."