Alister Azimuth (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
double_edged) wrote in ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png)
castleinthemist2012-05-04 11:36 pm
double_edged) wrote in castleinthemist2012-05-04 11:36 pm
Entry tags:
001 ☪ awakening
Oddly enough, he hadn't remembered falling asleep.
His reserves had still been at full capacity, the gentle pressing and steaming of the vents on his back pumping out waste, refreshing his systems and keeping him alert enough to trek along the exhibition. Though here he was, head bowed and eyes closed almost in meditation, metallic arm th-thumping against something dull and thick, with the other following.
Except that one wasn't metallic. And he felt something that was not native to Torren IV, or anything he could remember. The hand moves with urgency, patting the walls, pushing, nudging breaking.
Breaking? Yes. Yes, it was breaking. It just needed some more weight. More force, more energy, and--
CRACKLE!
He was out.
The metallic skeleton in his legs makes the weight reverberate a little more in the dreary, hollow room, echoing through its endless walls, but... he's out. His good ear flattens against his head, breath catching in his throat as he realizes - this is not Torren. This is not home. He might have just taken a step back, to the remains of where he had been--
A prison. Sarcophagus, by the looks of it, and what he remembered from Vullard lore about the technology of olden days. Devices used to kidnap and torture others, and he had just been someone's victim.
Who? Why? What planet was this, and why was he alone? Where were the Vullards?
Where was anything?
His reserves had still been at full capacity, the gentle pressing and steaming of the vents on his back pumping out waste, refreshing his systems and keeping him alert enough to trek along the exhibition. Though here he was, head bowed and eyes closed almost in meditation, metallic arm th-thumping against something dull and thick, with the other following.
Except that one wasn't metallic. And he felt something that was not native to Torren IV, or anything he could remember. The hand moves with urgency, patting the walls, pushing, nudging breaking.
Breaking? Yes. Yes, it was breaking. It just needed some more weight. More force, more energy, and--
CRACKLE!
He was out.
The metallic skeleton in his legs makes the weight reverberate a little more in the dreary, hollow room, echoing through its endless walls, but... he's out. His good ear flattens against his head, breath catching in his throat as he realizes - this is not Torren. This is not home. He might have just taken a step back, to the remains of where he had been--
A prison. Sarcophagus, by the looks of it, and what he remembered from Vullard lore about the technology of olden days. Devices used to kidnap and torture others, and he had just been someone's victim.
Who? Why? What planet was this, and why was he alone? Where were the Vullards?
Where was anything?
no subject
no subject
Whatever was going on, whoever was in charge here, they did not hold the peaceful intentions all Vullards swore by code to. And it's the thought that others like this Outsider could have already been hurt here that starts making him a little furious. The Outsider, who's been so willing to help him despite apparently looking like a friend.
His eyes narrow, the goggles coming back over on his face as he stares the other down. Then, the robot hand comes up to fist against his chestplate - something to show that he wasn't afraid. If they had to fight their way out, they had to fight. It was as simple as that.
no subject
"We'll do it together."