❪ event ❫ hour of ruin

[natha]

HOUR OF RUIN     Sometime after midnight, after preparations have been put aside in favor of drinks and rest, a thunderous beating of wings shatters the air — the High Dragon Ysverai, once again risen. The sound echoes high off Namarak Mountain, but travels easily to both Wyver and Olympia: scream after scream rends the still night, as though a creature were dying rather than being born again. Having only had days to plan their defense against the creature, Olympia and Wyver snatch up their arms. The Royal Guard and the Knightryders can be seen on their steeds hurrying through the cities, because Ysverai doesn't remain isolated at the mountain's peak for long. There are pictures of Ysverai in abundance throughout both cities, but the creature that circles in the sky looks nothing like the majestic creature spoken of in history books. Even from far below, wounds and lacerations can be seen marring what should be smooth scales, and blood falls with every beat of the dragon's wings. The damage becomes more clear when moonlight illuminates Ysverai, revealing the rotting dragon for all to see. The sight of flesh peeling away and thick blood where it oozes from his cracked, greyish hide is as frightening as the power he possesses. REASON'S TRANSCENDENCE     Mad from the anguish of his forced revival, Ysverai will show none of his renowned wisdom or compassion, mindless and seeking to inflict his pain onto whatever emerges in his path. His very presence creates chaos: animals (Olympia | Wyver) domesticated and wild, flee from the merest hint of his approach, panicked and stampeding in wild droves. The reason is obvious: organic matter exposed too long to his presence begins to rot and decay. A field he lands in rots and lies fallow. Buildings crack and crumble, their supports pitted and corroded as though they've been left in disrepair for years. Even the ground that Ysverai walks upon is tainted; a corrosive sludge bubbles up in his massive, clawed footsteps, the ground beneath him putrefied and toxic, oozing corruption. This sludge can be tar-like, poisonous and sucking people in like quicksand; panic, and you'll only sink faster. Prolonged exposure to Ysverai takes a mental toll on anyone in his proximity as well. Effects similar to those from being near his heart — selfish desires and lowered inhibitions — will begin to fester in those around him. Every time Ysverai roars, pain will run through all those that hear him — a pain not just physical, but of true, anguished heartbreak. Those who hear Ysverai will feel (to a degree of your choosing) a sharing of his pain, the agony of flesh rotting from their bodies, blood oozing from under their skin, and a terrible, incandescent fury — and beneath that, a gut-wrenching sadness. This effect is further enhanced by any exposure to Ysverai's blood, and being drenched in greater quantities will cause one to become more in sync with the dragon. Finally, Ysverai is aggressive, attacking anyone and anything that approaches. He starts by breathing out a smog, acidic and putrefying — characters caught directly by this attack will find that medicine and healing magic of any kind hurts them for hours after exposure. The dragon will ignite the smog to breathe fire, if sparingly. IN WYVER     Ysverai's shadow falls over the near reaches of Wyver first. Upon hearing Ysverai's cry, the dragons in Wyver become completely frenzied, turning against their partners among the Knightryders without the slightest resistance. Those familiar with dragons might deduce that they're in pain, though they don't show any sign of injury. The dragons knock their riders off their backs in midair and dive at citizens, jaws wide. Any attempts to soothe them will be long fought, achieved with great difficulty, and will see them retreat into a cowering state. It's not just the airborne Knightryders taking to the defense of the city however, and people on the ground are mobilizing as well. On rooftops across the city are cannons set to fire harpoons. And if the spearheads alone aren't enough to injure the beast, they're coated with a paralyzing poison as well. Unfortunately, the soldiers stationed on the rooftops are prime targets to the frenzied dragons populating Wyver's skies, leaving the cannons open for ordinary citizens to use should they choose. Left alone too long, and cannons may fall under the control of the few remaining radicals that had opted not to flee the cities to join up with their leader Raysc, choosing instead to wait for an opportune moment to unleash their anger on the people of Wyver. These radicals will need to be dealt with before they can turn the cannons upon Wyver's defenders. IN OLYMPIA     In Olympia, the gryphon partners of the Royal Guard react with immediate hostility to anyone showing signs of Ysverai's influence. Their keen senses allow them to pick up the smell of Ysverai's blood and they attack anyone with so much as a drop of tainted blood on them. Those who bear lingering effects of Ysverai's mental attack and who remain in sync with the dragon after hearing Ysverai's cry are also targeted and must face the gryphons' wrath without mercy or restraint. The gryphons must be disabled, for Olympia will not look upon any injury to their prized steeds lightly. However, the gryphons also show some resistance to Ysverai's cry, which is a great boon in battle against the dragon — gryphons that have lost their riders will be available for use, able to carry two passengers at a time. The people of Olympia aren't planning to restrict their offense to pure brute force, and the mages of the city can be seen across Olympia wielding enchanted chains, using telekinesis in the hopes of restraining Ysverai and assisting in the airborne troops. But like the decaying buildings and wildlife, Ysverai is warping the magic around him, the chains faltering as they approach him, whipping back toward the city instead to cage whoever happens to be closest. It's not just the enchanted chains either, but other magic might behave erratically in his presence, as if the very essence of the spells have been corrupted. VIRTUOUS VERSE     Both cities realize they need to seek survival rather than victory against Ysverai, switching gears to carry out diversion efforts and evacuation plans. It falls to refugees to continue the offensive while the Royal Guard and the Knightryders devote their attention to ensuring the safety of the citizens as they flee. With official forces stretched thin, civilians and refugees alike will also need to step up to help herd citizens toward safety among a maze of collapsing buildings. Others will need to see to gathering resources for the evacuation, and while gathering non perishables is easy enough, it's considerably harder to wrangle livestock into cooperating amidst such chaos. Those fighting may be asked to act as bait for Ysverai. Chatter through official troops speaks of a switch in strategy: the objective now is capture the dragon's attention and draw him away from the populous cities and towards the South Outpost. Whether or not it's possible to defeat the dragon remains uncertain, but there's no question that it will be easier to battle him without worrying about civilians. THE RAGE     Luckily, the dragon is indiscriminate in his rage, and easily lured so long as a suitably infuriating target is before him. It doesn't take long to draw him to the South Outpost, but the trail of destruction he leaves in his wake is vast. Once there, the combined forces are greeted not just by Ysverai, but also by the appearance of Ysverai's master. How bravely you've all come to meet your doom! Great heroes, one and all, ha! I welcome you, bring your best. Show me the power that's protected Olympia and Wyver, all that you have to offer me, whatever pitiful excuse for valor you seek to cling to when the fear has you cowering in your beds. All will be for naught in the face of Ysverai's might! Let history witness the day the glory of war is reignited — the day that Wyver remembers its fangs once more! Come, Ysverai, last and greatest of the High Dragons! Come, and restore Wyver to its rightful place! Come, fulfill the promise as our protector that you could not in life! Raysc lifts a gleaming device as he issues his command. Red lights blink and blood, the same oozing liquid that drips from Ysverai's many wounds, runs in clear tubes through the device. Ysverai rears back as Raysc makes adjustments to a control panel — and then lunges forward, mouth agape. With a single swallow, Raysc meets his end. Raysc's attempt to control the dragon has only enraged him further, spurring Ysverai on to new heights of fury. It's become more vital than ever to face the dragon and take him down here and now. A few effective strategies are learned from research efforts and observed while defending Olympia and Wyver: goading the dragon into breathing fire will hurt him, burning him from the inside out, and attacks to his joints, eyes, wings, and exposed bone are effective. Ice is a natural repellent to dragons and can be used defensively or to weaken the dragon's hide. Healing spells will also react unnaturally to Ysverai's flesh, hastening his decay. However, while concentrated efforts will lock him down, Ysverai cannot be permanently killed in this state — his flesh constantly rots and spawns anew. Attacking him here is to protect civilians, keeping him busy to avoid mass destruction elsewhere. Therefore, the battle is one of attrition, a matter of a race against time. You must destroy his flesh faster than it is able to regenerate to have any hope of victory. Finally, when Ysverai is weakening, little more than bones with a few last vestiges of rotten meat hanging from a skeleton, the pathetic remnants of the last High Dragon takes to the skies. His wings are barely intact enough to carry him, yet desperation lifts him, higher and higher, until he lets out one great, earth-shaking roar. A roar that carries across the battlefield, sending all who hear it to their knees. A roar that shatters the swords in soldiers' hands, that rends apart the very air itself — Ysverai's last act, a great curse upon El Nysa, to bring down the sky. AND THE WORLD STOOD STILL     The terror of Ysverai's destruction hangs overhead — a tear in the sky, darkness pouring through, tendrils reaching down towards El Nysa to swallow up the planet in the dragon's final act of revenge. And yet nothing moves. A halo of brilliant light surrounds the rift in the sky, holding the grasping, hungry tendrils in check. And on the planet, not a creature moves. Not a blade of grass stirs. You're not able to even draw a breath. No matter where you are, not even the heart in your chest is beating. Everything has stopped — time has come to a standstill. In a wash of light, an aurora of transport, you find yourself delivered to Thesa Station. Darma stands before you, her expression solemn, perhaps even grim, though that may just be a trick of the station's harsh lighting. She explains what has happened in short order: planetside, time has been completely frozen. We have seen the birth and end of worlds. The rise and fall of civilizations infinite times over. We have seen all threads of possibilities that could have lead to this very moment... Or should have. Perhaps you might doubt our sincerity when we say this comes as a surprise to us, as well... Special technology has been used to blind us. To this day, we only know of one region capable of creating and utilizing such technology... you will find this technology in a city known as Nadril. We understand that you have created a life down in Wyver and Olympia, but now we must ask that you put that life on pause. We ask you to travel to Nadril and find the original Refugee, and with him, answers. As you will discover, he does not wish to speak to us. It is no matter. By now it is too late to keep the Nysan public unaware of our existence. We commend the efforts of those who wish to protect their comrades on the battlefield below, but a creature like poor Ysverai, twisted and warped, given unnatural life with terrible magic and technology, does not simply go down with manpower. Please, leave Ysverai to us. Time on the planet will remain stopped while we determine how to deal with the dragon. For now, rest and recover your strength. We have returned, and soon, there will be new refugees awakening. Perhaps you might like to prepare yourselves to greet them? I'm sorry that I can't answer more questions, but for now, all our attention must turn to finding a way to stop what Ysverai has wrought. A bank of monitors behind Darma displays the battlefield below: Ysverai's frozen, looming figure and the breach in the sky, and the Natha's halo, holding the destruction back. Though time passes normally on Thesa Station, El Nysa remains frozen, and all Refugees are unable to return to the planet until Ysverai's menace is dealt with. Luckily, with the Natha's return, full functionality has also returned to the station. The lights and environmentals are back to full power, access to all areas has been restored, the cafeteria is serving its normal offerings, and there's no evidence of any glitching or malfunctions. Doubtless, the period of rest is much needed after the hard-fought battle. For now, with time on El Nysa at a standstill, there's little else to be done but enjoy the reprieve aboard Thesa Station. FINAL OOC NOTE     Characters that reach an AC length action thread in this event will receive 2 rep for all factions, including Natha. Note that while these are split up for ease of processing, players may submit for all three. OLYMPIA | WYVER | NATHA Players can expect this event to run three days ICly before everyone is teleported to Thesa Station! From thereon, all characters will be grounded at the Station until the Test Drive Meme later this month. QUICK NAV premise ● faq ● lore ● map ● npcs ● bestiary taken ● atp/emp ● application ● rep/acp ● quest bulletin calendar ● hiatus/drops ● modbox [ FULL NAVIGATION ] elnysa nysalogs nysaisles nysaooc elnyan

Comments

[impavid]

"You're good, but I gotta pee so --"

He slips to sit on the edge of his bed and pulls on his boots, re-ties the laces then gives Ianto's arm a reassuring squeeze as he pushes to his feet.

"Back in a minute," he says, and the lights (which had dimmed to nothing) slowly lift again as he stands and paces out into the hallway. He's only gone perhaps five minutes, splashing a little cold water onto his face while he's there to freshen up too and trying to tame the wild flicks in his hair. When the door slides open and he's still vaguely fussing it down with his fingers, then rubs his hands together as he approaches Ianto.

So. Words, probably. Right.

"Hungry?" he tries, because he is and food kills time.

[torchwoodteaboy]

Ianto takes the time that John disappears to slowly re-orient himself in the room. Having slept a little more, he's feeling slightly more rested, and realizing just how tired he really is as well. Checking his watch, the time means next to nothing to him at first, but he figures he couldn't have slept for that long. Standing, he rubs at his face and resists the urge to poke around John's room looking for more things the other man might have had stashed away up here before he turns to the sound of the door opening again.

He flicks a hesitant smile at the other man, before nodding in response to the question. "I could eat," he replies. Which is to say he can't remember the last time he's had a proper meal that wasn't coffee or some other liquid form. "But only if you're paying," he amends, his lips twitching again, since they both know by now that a meal on the station at least is free for the taking, and that Ianto still has all of John's leftover money for that matter.

[impavid]

"Then allow me to escort you to the nearest Space Taco Bell."

He gestures to the doorway, waits for Ianto to get up and join him before beginning to walk -- one hand reaching out to touch his back and gently steer him before his hands drop into his pockets.

"That reminds me -- we're still missing a shuttle for our take-out venture. Didn't think the Natha would be so stingy about it. I mean, if you're waking up pilots you'd think it's sensible to let them fly. We could be doing... space defence, or something, up here! Against whatever made them take off for a bit and left the station rebooting."

Surely this is common sense? Maybe they don't trust him. He's so trustworthy, though!

[torchwoodteaboy]

Wow John that was supposed to be a joke -- since everything on this station is free? He lets the other man guide him out the door, glancing over to him and raising an eyebrow in a way that he hopes should suggest that John can do better than that. Not that Ianto's ever been, but. He's heard rumor. Ah well, they'll cross that bridge when they get to the mess hall.

"Well, have you been to the hangar yet?" he asks. "You could always try stealing yourself one. Though I doubt they would look so highly upon such a choice as that, no matter what your reasoning." Ianto assumes the Natha wait to see whether they can be trusted with the reward before they give them anything like this. Honestly, John just gave up his life to save them, you'd think they could throw him something. But it was a reckless move as well, and in the end it hadn't paid off, had it? He frowns. No, he supposes they're right in keeping him grounded a little while longer.

"They still haven't said," he continues, after a moment. "Why they'd gone." He'd probably said that already, but he might as well say it again now. The last few hours have been something of a blur. "Just that they couldn't see this coming or some rubbish. Special technology used to blind them. That's where we're supposed to be headed next. To find the original Refugee and with him, answers about it."

[impavid]

"Guess that's a fancy way of saying their sensors were jammed. The original refugee, though? Now that sounds interesting. Wonder what he has to say about the Natha."

Wonder why the Natha are sending them, for that matter. Why couldn't they talk to him themselves? He frowns in thought, mulling it over before adding lightly --

"I guess if he did it, then he might have a stash of cool toys hidden away. Maybe he has a shuttle we can hot-wire."

You know, for the space take-out venture.

[torchwoodteaboy]

It makes Ianto wonder just how long the Natha have been beaming refugees onto the planet, if the original is still living. Whether it really is the case as Jim said, that they can't reproduce so the Natha don't permit them to die. Does that include aging as well? And why is that the case? The more he considers it, the more questions he has, truth be told.

"Maybe it is. I don't know. They claim to be omnipotent. Seeing all possibilities in advance. Must be some technology, if we're to actually believe them," he comments, turning to shoot the other man a skeptical glance as he does.

"I doubt he'd take too kindly to us stealing from him either way," Ianto points out. "Perhaps we should wait until we've at least confirmed we've gotten all the answers we can from him before we go pillaging through his stuff, yeah?"

[impavid]

Wow Ianto, what do you take him for. He frowns sideways at him, something a little questioning in it.

"I know that! I always wait until we've at least made friends with people before taking all their stuff. They teach you that in basic training."

You know, turn up, make friends, then turn your guns on people and take all their stuff! Probably. He slows down as they reach the entrance to the mess hall, glancing around as he tries to decide where the best place to sit might be then squinting sideways at Ianto.

"What you thinking? Steak sandwich and fries? Pizza? You look like you need calories."

Or at least, some comfort food in general.

[torchwoodteaboy]

"In basic training," Ianto repeats and turns to raise a questioning eyebrow at the other man in turn, though they arrive at the mess hall before he can really question the matter any further.

Food, right. He should probably eat. He's pretty sure he's even hungry now, though it's reached the point where he doesn't even know where to begin. He can't remember the last full meal he's eaten. It was probably with John himself, come to that.

"Sandwich," he answers easily. Hard to go wrong with a sandwich. And he's never gotten any sandwich delivery girl killed, which is more than he can say for poor Annie from Jubilee. Not that it stopped them ordering from the shop, but. "Steak sandwich and chips," he says pointedly, because that's what they're called as far as he's concerned, before he shrugs slightly. "Sounds nice, really." It's nothing fancy, but it will certainly hit the spot.

[impavid]

"Sandwiches it is then."

With fries, thank you very much. He leads Ianto over to a chair and ruffles his hair, shoves him into a chair.

"You wait here, since I'm buying."

''Buying'' the food anyway, he can fetch it at least. It doesn't take especially long -- John sometimes wonders where the food comes from here, but overall decides it's better not to ask -- and after about ten minutes he's placing down two cheesesteak sandwiches and a plate of fries to share, which look to be generally designed to be as unhealthy as humanly possible.

"They have cheesy fries!"

John sounds genuinely excited about this as he drops into his chair, and he beams at Ianto as he snags one.

"This is very bad for you."

He says, while chewing. It's great. He feels zero guilt.

[torchwoodteaboy]

Ianto ducks his head slightly as John ruffles his hair, bringing a hand up to comb his fingers through it to straighten it back out as he watches the other man walk off to fetch the food. His eyes continuing to follow him from across the room, not even bothering to try and be inconspicuous about it. He still feels somewhat like he’s drifting in a dream and he might wake up and find that John isn’t really back after all, perhaps. He isn’t sure he’ll really believe it until it sticks for as long as he’s been gone, at least.

Sitting forward in his seat, he peers at the plate of fries that John deposits between them. Cheesy fries. John looks like the cat who got at the cream and Ianto reaches forward to snag one of his own, chewing on it thoughtfully as he glances back up to John and raises an eyebrow.

“Well I don’t think anyone would be accusing it of being health food, no,” he observes around the bite — it’s actually quite good, really, in the way that all deep fried foods you know are terrible for you seem to be. “You seem quite pleased with yourself on this. Little did I know that the secret to your happiness was yellow cheese.”

[impavid]

"Listen," John says, and he gestures vaguely with the knife he'd been using to cut his sandwich in half. "Don't knock good food. It's been a long time since I've seen this stuff. You can learn to miss real junk food."

So there. He finishes cutting the sandwich and steals some more cheese fries off the plate, because he can.

"You don't want it, that's fine. I'll eat it."

He might regret eating all of it, but that's fine. He'll do it anyway. Some regrets are kind of worth it in the moment.

[torchwoodteaboy]

“I’m not knocking it, I’m just saying.” Ianto reaches out to steal John’s knife to cut his own sandwich in half before picking it up to take a bite. And it is good, in a greasy, cheesy sort of way. He feels like he should be drinking a beer with this sort of fare but equally doesn’t know whether he could handle it all together in the end.

“You’re obviously quite fond of this sort of thing,” he observes aloud. “I’m assuming they didn’t have a lot of it in the mess halls you’re used to eating in then?” They don’t really even have a lot of it planetside. It’s as much a treat for Ianto as it is for John, and he’s only been a few months without proper greasy junk food. No wonder John is head over heals.

[impavid]

He makes a vague, noncommittal gesture.

"Not as good as this. They try, but resources are limited to things we can grow and trade and things that are long life. So it's not always quite this indulgent."

This is very indulgent, and John intends to indulge. He leans back in his chair as he takes bite of his sandwich finally, scanning the rest of the canteen idly for any familiar faces. As far as he can tell, it's been a few days since the... dragon face-off, for want of a better term. He's half wondering how everyone else was doing, the other people fighting the dragon. Ianto is... alive, at least, if unsteady. He wasn't the only one out there with John, though. Maybe he should turn his phone back on later and check.

[torchwoodteaboy]

Ianto takes another bite of his sandwich, watching John as he chews. Trying to imagine life on Atlantis, as John has described it. Would he have volunteered for such a mission? Would they have wanted him there?

"Working for Torchwood meant a lot of takeaway," Ianto supplies. "In the office. In the SUV. It's no wonder Jack was always after me to eat more veg..." He trails off, taking another bite of his food. He's pretty sure Jack was after him to eat more in general, but that's neither here nor there.

"Nothing like this, though," he says, after a moment. "Usually pizza. Or Chinese. There were a number of restaurants on the Plass. I knew everyone's orders..." He still does. Is that sad?

[impavid]

"Then you should tell me your favourite."

He shifts to nudge a foot against Ianto's under the table, getting his attention, then tilts his head and offers a playful smile.

"For next time. I'm pretty sure they'll make whatever you want here. I just like chips. So now you know something I'd order!"

John sets down his sandwich after taking another bite, picks up a napkin to vaguely rub his hands a little cleaner and lean onto the table so he can study Ianto better -- toying with some chips on the plate as he thinks.

"You miss them?"

His friends from Torchwood, that is.

[torchwoodteaboy]

Ianto can't help but flick a smile in return to the other man's playfulness. There's something almost puppyish about the way he's tilting his head and nudging him to get his attention.

He shifts his sandwich into one hand and reaches for another chip, popping it into his mouth and chewing on it thoughtfully, taking note of everything about this meal and what it might say about John's tastes in food in fact, when the other man asks him about his team. He keeps his eyes trained on the plate in front of them, his expression not really giving too much away one way or the other, before he glances up at the other man and nods.

"I do," he admits. "It's. Weird to think about really. Maybe it says something about me, I dunno. They..." He moves to set his sandwich down now, reaching for another chip, playing with it in the cheese. "They killed Lisa. You saw that. I mean, you didn't see it, but. It's what happened, from there. None of them really bothered to know who I was, before that day, and then." His cyber girlfriend he'd been hiding in the basement went AWOL. "It took a long time to come back from that. For them to forgive me. For me to forgive them." He shrugs. "But Torchwood was... All I had left, after that. And they were Torchwood. I know... Everything about them -- from their family history to their takeaway orders." But none of them ever really bothered to learn his.

Not before John, anyway. He pauses for a moment, before glancing back up at John. "I like chips too," he admits. "I don't know if I'd always choose to put cheese on them, but. It's a nice treat, now and then."

[impavid]

John studies Ianto a long moment, mulling this over.

"Well," he says finally, "I like ferris wheels, college football, anything that goes over a hundred miles an hour, flying, strategy games and surfing. I may not be Torchwood but you know plenty more about me than most people here."

He reaches for the plate again, turns it very carefully.

"And these are called fries in America, if you ordered chips you'd get something else. You're lucky I'm so cultured."

He speaks obscure European terms. Like 'chips'.

[torchwoodteaboy]

An obscure European term indeed. Ianto raises an eyebrow at the cultured comment and reaches for another. He's from Wales, not the bloody moon. It isn't that obscure, is it?

It's true though, he knows a lot about John already. How he likes his coffee, about his mission on Atlantis. That he likes chips, apparently. Cheesy ones, in particular, make him happy. He's learned a lot about the other man over the past few months, in retrospect. But surprisingly little about his people, in comparison. He wonders if that was a decision that John had made on purpose, or whether it's simply because it's never come up.

"Every continent, you said," he points out, because yes John, he remembers everything you tell him. "And then space. The life you've lived..." It has to have been exciting, even if Ianto gets the feeling John's spent most of it getting in his own way. "And now you're here," he continues, watching John's face as he does. "A different kind of adventure, I suppose." He pokes some cheese around with his chip, before gathering up the courage to ask, "You have a team too, yeah? What...are they like?" Present tense, think positive, he found Owen after all, they all have to be out there somewhere.

[impavid]

He visibly hesitates for a moment, leans back in his chair and takes another bite of his sandwich to buy himself time. It's definitely been a conscious decision not to talk about them, because John is compartmentalising. He's boxed them away, and closed that box so he doesn't have to think about them. So he doesn't have to miss them.

"I think I told you about Teyla," he begins awkwardly. He didn't, really, just stood by her pod with Ianto and said she was a good person. John doesn't really remember much about the situation, though, other than it being around her pod and that he definitely mentioned her name anyway. "She was one of the first people we met out there."

Out in the Pegasus galaxy, that is.

[torchwoodteaboy]

Ianto watches him answer, studying the way that he leans back into his chair and the pause. The fact that he really doesn't say anything new at first. But he keeps watching and he keeps listening. Maybe John will tell him more if he does. Or maybe he won't. He supposes he'll have to wait and find out.

"And she chose to join you from there?" he asks. Because no, he didn't tell him anything about Teyla, other than the fact that she's a good person. Which he figures that she must be, if John cares about her as much as he's starting to assume that he does. His team. It must be a lot like Torchwood, he supposes. A family, of sorts. People you spend time with more than anyone you're related to by blood. Even if some of them get under your skin sometimes, you wouldn't trade them for anything. He figures it must be at least a little like that.

[impavid]

"Yeah. I mean, we'd just arrived -- we had no idea who to talk to or where to go. We got ourselves in trouble pretty much immediately, but we also helped her and her people out... so, I guess she knew our hearts were in the right places -- and we were in dire need of someone to give us a little direction."

Which Teyla did. She knew lots of people, knew what to say, gentled their sometimes rough diplomatic edges. He fidgets with his sandwich, glances around the canteen.

"She'd be better at all this than I am. I'm not good at..." He winces, offers a helpless shrug and leans forward to set his sandwich back on his plate and reaches out for the plate of fries again. "Anyway," he says, "the other two are Rodney and Ronon. Rodney's a scientist, you know, physics and mechanical engineering and stuff. He makes everything work when we break it, and tells me not to touch things."

[torchwoodteaboy]

Ianto tilts his head as he listens, watching John fidget around in his seat as he talks. Wondering as the other man trails off his sentence -- not good at...? He seems to be pretty good at a lot of things so far. From Ianto's point of view, anyway. Although it's true that he's floundering in this conversation. He does seem to do a lot of that, when Ianto presses him into talking.

"You make it sound as though that's a frequent occurrence," Ianto muses, reaching for another chip as he does. "Breaking things, I mean. Well, and touching them, I suppose. I can see how both would get you into trouble."

[impavid]

"Well, most of the stuff we're using doesn't come with manuals. It was built by the Ancients thousands of years ago, and they didn't tend to write useful notes -- or if they do it's a little cryptic. Not that my ability to read Ancient is fluent to begin with, but the rest are a little better than me."

He shrugs, fidgets with the fries.

"Also, we get shot at a lot. I find that doesn't help keep things working."

You know. In the grand scheme of things, technology doesn't like being shot at. He grabs a couple of fries and shoves them into his mouth, buying a few seconds to eat.

"Anyway, McKay complains a lot but he's just Canadian. He wouldn't want to be anywhere else."

He's pretty sure none of them would.

[torchwoodteaboy]

Ianto has to wonder how John knows how to read any Ancient to begin with, in truth. Is it something they teach you once you join up? Maybe there are books and you're expected to figure it out yourself?

"No, I don't suppose that imminent danger has ever been an aid in reading comprehension," he muses. Reaching for his sandwich again and taking a few bites as he considers it.

"Don't they want you touching things for them as well, though?" he asks. He distinctly remembers that being the phrasing that John had given him.

[impavid]

"Only when instructed. They tried very hard to train me to limit the amount of touching I did, but I have a restless and rebellious soul."

So you know. It didn't work out. He shrugs, picks up his sandwich to take another bite. There are a lot of calories that need savouring here, and that's much more important than actual details about him. Focus on the food, Ianto!