Krok (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
dadcepticon) wrote in ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png)
rekindleme2015-02-11 07:47 pm
dadcepticon) wrote in rekindleme2015-02-11 07:47 pm
We're gonna do what we do best.
Who: Krok and YOU! Yes, you! Seriously anybody is welcome. Come bug Captain Mopey!
Where: Shopping district!
When: Slight backdate to 10 February, mid-morning/noonish.
Summary: Krok needs something to fill up the much too quiet apartment he's too reluctant to abandon. Time to look for music and movies!
Warnings: Nnnnothing really?
Life has been very quiet in recent weeks. None of the chatter or mayhem that Krok simply took for granted. No being woken at all hours by Misfire with something to tell him, no conversations with Fulcrum, no laughter or jokes or arguments. Just silence and an oppressive sense of melancholy as he looks at empty bedrooms.
He hates it.
He doesn't want to give up the apartment if he can help it; what if they come back? They might, he thinks. It's a possibility, at least. Even if a very distant one. Enough of a chance that he can't ignore it, certainly – but he can't take the emptiness of it any more. It's maddening. He's upset over the absences; Spinister is upset and it's impossible to console the big helicopter when Krok himself can't seem to shake off the unhappiness. Something has to change, he decides, even if it isn't their quarters. So, steeling himself against the likelihood of too much good cheer from potentially all quarters – he needs to not wallow, yes, but there's only so much effervescence and warmth Krok can manage right now – the weary scavenger captain takes himself to the shopping district on a mission.
There must be some sort of recordings he can buy. Anything, he thinks, just to have the noise. Just to fill in the gaps where there should be friendly voices. Vids, music, he doesn't care what it is so long as it makes sounds. He squints at the signs and displays around him and peers into the shops as he slows his stride, debating where to even start. Krok's had so little use for this entire end of the city that he finds himself at something of a loss for direction, staring at the options available and all but broadcasting his usual exasperation every which way as he pauses in the middle of the concourse.
"I must be going out of my mind," he mumbles to himself while looking right to left and back again. There's a place a little further along that seems to sell electronic devices, he guesses by their window displays. It's as good a place to start as any.
Where: Shopping district!
When: Slight backdate to 10 February, mid-morning/noonish.
Summary: Krok needs something to fill up the much too quiet apartment he's too reluctant to abandon. Time to look for music and movies!
Warnings: Nnnnothing really?
Life has been very quiet in recent weeks. None of the chatter or mayhem that Krok simply took for granted. No being woken at all hours by Misfire with something to tell him, no conversations with Fulcrum, no laughter or jokes or arguments. Just silence and an oppressive sense of melancholy as he looks at empty bedrooms.
He hates it.
He doesn't want to give up the apartment if he can help it; what if they come back? They might, he thinks. It's a possibility, at least. Even if a very distant one. Enough of a chance that he can't ignore it, certainly – but he can't take the emptiness of it any more. It's maddening. He's upset over the absences; Spinister is upset and it's impossible to console the big helicopter when Krok himself can't seem to shake off the unhappiness. Something has to change, he decides, even if it isn't their quarters. So, steeling himself against the likelihood of too much good cheer from potentially all quarters – he needs to not wallow, yes, but there's only so much effervescence and warmth Krok can manage right now – the weary scavenger captain takes himself to the shopping district on a mission.
There must be some sort of recordings he can buy. Anything, he thinks, just to have the noise. Just to fill in the gaps where there should be friendly voices. Vids, music, he doesn't care what it is so long as it makes sounds. He squints at the signs and displays around him and peers into the shops as he slows his stride, debating where to even start. Krok's had so little use for this entire end of the city that he finds himself at something of a loss for direction, staring at the options available and all but broadcasting his usual exasperation every which way as he pauses in the middle of the concourse.
"I must be going out of my mind," he mumbles to himself while looking right to left and back again. There's a place a little further along that seems to sell electronic devices, he guesses by their window displays. It's as good a place to start as any.
no subject
"I believe we do," she answers once she's straightened up, letting her hand stay where it is for a moment just out of habit. Sometimes she doesn't even notice the effects of having stayed here so long.
"Well enough, thank you. I hope that you have, as well, aside from the silence."
Hopefully her words showed that she was willing to listen if he was willing to talk, but of course the question remained a silent one so that he did not have to answer.
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"…It's been eventful," he finally says, awkward, not sure how to phrase it otherwise. "I'll give it that." If she prompts for more, he'll have to chew on how to phrase that, too. Sometimes he wishes he had Misfire's lack of a speech filter.
no subject
That had been a different experience, for certain. It's a good enough topic to move towards, she thinks, since Krok doesn't appear to be quite comfortable discussing his own circumstances.
no subject
He probably oughtn't ask any of them.
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"Near the end of the year, some of the city's equipment affected a few people so that they became either younger or older. I was a small girl again," she said, gesturing to indicate her previous height, "before the time I began training as a knight."
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"Glad I missed out on that, then," is what he says, shaking his head slowly. "I doubt I'd come out of it so well off." Amazing, he thinks, what counts for improvement coming from the places he's from. Even starving on the W.A.P. was better. Saeng Seong, well. It's almost paradise in comparison.
He doesn't even mind the bustle of shoppers and pedestrians as they head in closer to the shops; it keeps his mind away from darker thoughts.
"I'm not sure what to think that I'm starting to like this bizarre place," he says, smilingly faintly, mostly rhetorical. He tilts his head to the left and eyes Freya, adding, "Does that sound crazy?"
no subject
The Burmecian smiles at his admission, understanding how the feeling might be difficult to accept.
"I should hope not, as I thought the same some time ago. I believe many of us have battled with the worry of becoming too complacent, but at the same time, this place has often been kinder to us than our homes."