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pineslog2017-05-15 05:36 am
keephimtalking) wrote in pineslog2017-05-15 05:36 am
Entry tags:
Are you alright?
Who: Aloy, Lantar, birds and anyone!
Where: Forest and behind Weavers
When: May 13th, May 16th
What: Bird watching and poor coping.
Warnings: Psychological problems galore!
[Open and Closed prompts within]
Dissociate - May 16 - OTA
It starts with a quiet flinch.
Early evening leaves pools of deep orange light spilling from the windows, reflecting off of the dark wood of each table, mixing in with the cooler artificial lighting. Lantar stops in the middle of wiping a table down, gaze lost in the shadowy, blurry outline of himself reflecting back from polished wood, unseeing. The sound of drinking and talking fades into a formless din around him.
The moment passes as quickly as it comes.
A few hours past his shift and Lantar is out back near the trash bins, surrounded by broken glass. He doesn’t remember how long he’s been there, only that he’d come down to load some empty bottles into his truck for recycling. Any passersby will see him just standing there, harshly lit by fluorescent light, the shards around him glittering black against the tarmac.
Any passerby will see him yanking another unbroken bottle out from a crate and throwing it into the wall. Into the ground. Against the truck. Over and over, again and again. He doesn’t yell. Doesn’t curse. It’s an eerily silent mania broken only by the crash of shattering glass.
Bird Watching Birds - May 13th - Closed to Aloy
As a general rule, Lantar almost never left his house unless it was for work. He did his grocery shopping while topping up the snacks for the bar. He sometimes dropped in to check up on things after his shift was over. He was usually on call in case customers after wanted to give any of his employees trouble.
His existence outside of the bar was mostly just sleeping. Forcing down food he can’t taste when he can manage it. Drinking if he’s ever up long enough to contemplate his existence, staring out the window into the scraggly, suburban wilderness his yard was becoming. The inside of the house is a mess, but it’s a mess only he has to see, so he lives with it.
But one day, late in the afternoon, he drops by the library after his shift.
And then he sort of... disappears.
Near the edge of a small clearing next to the river, somewhere in the forest, Lantar flicks his omni-tool off after doing a quick scan to make sure there weren’t any cameras in the area. He then pulls out a little green book. Written on it in bold white text was ‘Birds of Idaho: Field Guide’.
Wrapping the dark green tarp tighter around his shoulders, he settles down against the base of a cheerfully budding birch tree and waits.
Wildcard - OTA
((OOC: You can ping me at![[plurk.com profile]](https://plurk.com/favicon.ico)
zapperkat or PM me if you’d like to do a thing!))
Where: Forest and behind Weavers
When: May 13th, May 16th
What: Bird watching and poor coping.
Warnings: Psychological problems galore!
[Open and Closed prompts within]
Dissociate - May 16 - OTA
It starts with a quiet flinch.
Early evening leaves pools of deep orange light spilling from the windows, reflecting off of the dark wood of each table, mixing in with the cooler artificial lighting. Lantar stops in the middle of wiping a table down, gaze lost in the shadowy, blurry outline of himself reflecting back from polished wood, unseeing. The sound of drinking and talking fades into a formless din around him.
The moment passes as quickly as it comes.
A few hours past his shift and Lantar is out back near the trash bins, surrounded by broken glass. He doesn’t remember how long he’s been there, only that he’d come down to load some empty bottles into his truck for recycling. Any passersby will see him just standing there, harshly lit by fluorescent light, the shards around him glittering black against the tarmac.
Any passerby will see him yanking another unbroken bottle out from a crate and throwing it into the wall. Into the ground. Against the truck. Over and over, again and again. He doesn’t yell. Doesn’t curse. It’s an eerily silent mania broken only by the crash of shattering glass.
Bird Watching Birds - May 13th - Closed to Aloy
As a general rule, Lantar almost never left his house unless it was for work. He did his grocery shopping while topping up the snacks for the bar. He sometimes dropped in to check up on things after his shift was over. He was usually on call in case customers after wanted to give any of his employees trouble.
His existence outside of the bar was mostly just sleeping. Forcing down food he can’t taste when he can manage it. Drinking if he’s ever up long enough to contemplate his existence, staring out the window into the scraggly, suburban wilderness his yard was becoming. The inside of the house is a mess, but it’s a mess only he has to see, so he lives with it.
But one day, late in the afternoon, he drops by the library after his shift.
And then he sort of... disappears.
Near the edge of a small clearing next to the river, somewhere in the forest, Lantar flicks his omni-tool off after doing a quick scan to make sure there weren’t any cameras in the area. He then pulls out a little green book. Written on it in bold white text was ‘Birds of Idaho: Field Guide’.
Wrapping the dark green tarp tighter around his shoulders, he settles down against the base of a cheerfully budding birch tree and waits.
Wildcard - OTA
((OOC: You can ping me at
no subject
Lantar's staring at her, eyes as big as dishes, mandibles spread slightly in an expression of baffled surprise. Eventually, he manages to gather himself up and he eases back, shifting his weight, bafflement replaced by something a bit more thoughtful.
"Okay. According to my rudimentary understanding of human history, I've- yeah, I've never heard of you guys getting your own Geth takeover."
Running his hand along his fringe, he mentally turns the new pieces of information over before taking a slow breath.
This isn't the first time he's spoken with a human whose knowledge of history was different from what he knew.
"... You wanna go for a walk?" he asks suddenly. "I think it might be a good time to go for a walk."
It's easier to think and walk anyways.
no subject
She stretches a little, waiting for him. "What is a Geth?" she asks. "Is it a type of Machine?"
Context suggests it is. "Has that sort of thing happened where you're from, too? What happened?"
no subject
As they start walking, he pulls up an image of a Quarian from his Omni-tool's databanks.
"Couple of hundred years ago, the Quarians started creating these like, simple AI to do manual labor work. After that things get kinda vague: most of the data was destroyed. Far we know, the Geth basically meshed their intelligence and got self aware. After that, they started a rebellion that ended up with most of the Quarian population dead and the survivors now travelling around on the Migrant Fleet."
He brings up another image of a Geth after that, an image of the Migrant Fleet- then a map of the galaxy with various names labeled out in Turian Standard.
"The entire region of space is basically off-limits now. Full-on Geth territory and you only go there if you've got a deathwish of some sort." As he talks, Lantar highlights the system and then zooms in on Rannoch and its neighbors. "Every ship that's been sent there's pretty much never come back and we basically know nada about their current residents."
"Anyways, research into AI got banned in Council Space after that."
no subject
"That's what the galaxy looks like?"
Okay, at the very least, she needs to take a trip to the library to look into this.
"It sounds to me like the Quarians at least had good intentions, which is more than I can say for the Faro corporation." Aloy grimaces; there's anger in her voice. "The machines they made -- well, they called them Peacekeepers, but they were made for war. Some of them could turn other machines to their side, and some of them could make more of them. And they could fuel themselves by 'eating' biomatter. Plants, animals, people. Anything available." The stupidity of it is overwhelming to her, sometimes. "They got out of control, and they destroyed everything, poisoned the air and water. It took less than two years."
Images would help, but the Focus displays to her only. A file can be passed from Focus to Focus, she knows that. Perhaps she can send an image to Lantar's Omni-tool? It's at least worth a try. Aloy pulls up her display, and flicks her fingers through the air as she navigates the UI.
"There was one woman. Her name was Elisabet Sobeck. She started a project to make an AI called GAIA that would be able to shut down the Faro machines afterwards, and rebuild everything over again with her own terraforming machines. Most of the machines that are still around are GAIA's, though there were some people who were digging up the old machines and fixing them." Her disgust is obvious in her voice. "Here, I'm going to try something."
With that, she sends the files over. She doesn't see any reason for it not to work, unless his Omni-tool is far too different to make sense of her Focus's information. There's a Corruptor, a Deathbringer, a massive Horus Titan. Then, some of GAIA's machines, the ones Aloy knows so well: a Watcher, a Grazer,, a Tallneck,. Finally, there's an image of Elisabet herself, and the uncanny resemblance between her and Aloy is obvious, though Elisabet is obviously older, and long dead.
no subject
As for her attempt at testing out the compatibility of their NFC tech, unfortunately, the two devices ran on very different systems and very different networks. The ping kind of just ricochets off into the void. Sorry, Aloy! You'll need to unlock the Alien Technology Modding Achievement first!
In the meantime, oblivious, the Turian mostly just watches her with a rather unreadable expression, a sidelong glance as he carefully matches his long strides to hers. It comes to him easier than he wants to think about, more familiar than he cares to admit, falling into step with a human again after so long.
"Wait, so like, completely destroyed everything in two years?"
Because that's what is sounds like but what it sounds like is pretty fucking unbelievable. Running his hand over his neck, he tries to imagine it, tries to imagine Pines just- gone. It's difficult though, oddly disconnected. He's used to the claustrophobic confines of Omega: even after his months here, it was still all so unsettlingly alien.
"I mean, there's more than one way to fuck up a planet, like the Krogans kind of just... nuked it." On the other hand, the Krogans didn't seem to care too much and kind of just kept living on it regardless. "But robots destroying everything is- yeah, that's new."
Although thinking about it now, he idly wonders if the Geth terraformed Rannoch after they'd kicked their creators out of the system. Whatever happened to the Quarian homeworld? Was it something like what she'd described?