Aleifr Bjornsson (
aleifr) wrote in
goneawayworld2020-05-04 12:30 am
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Entry tags:
A Sleepless First Night
Who: Aleifr and anyone who chances upon him
What: Insomnia-Driven Wanderings
Where: Various places around P90
When: Night One
Warnings/Notes: Nothing at present, but I'll update if that changes
It’s clear fairly early on that Aleifr’s first night on Piper 90 would be a restless one.
Simply put: He didn’t like it here.
He didn’t like the fact that he was a dozens floors off the ground in some metal monstrosity, feeling the vibrations of it's slow, steady movements like the faintest tremor of one of Fenris's summer quakes.
He didn’t like the distant engine noises, or the echoing footsteps of boots on metal. He was used to near silence at night; gently whistling winds carrying the soft crackle of a campfire or the murmurs of a distant conversation. If a night got that loud on Fenris, it was either feast day revelery, or you needed to be on your feet with an axe in your hand.
He didn’t like that he was trapped here. He didn’t like that he’d been dragged here against his will on someone’s whim. He didn’t like that he had no idea why either. He didn't know if there was even an ounce of truth in the rat-faced man's story about the near end of the world, or what the hell part he was supposed to play in that design if it was. He fucking hated that there was nothing that he could do about it.
He didn’t like sleeping alone, either. Wasn’t used to it anymore.
He’d still made an effort, if only so he wouldn’t be sleep deprived while dealing with whatever tomorrow brings. He might have been able to find an hour or two if he was on his own furs, but even the bed worked against him. It was too damned soft, and no matter which way he lay he couldn’t shake the feeling that he was sinking into it.
Needless to say, sleep didn’t come. All he did was toss and turn for a few hours until he grew sick of it.
He decided he needed to do something. Walk. Memorize his surroundings, get something to eat, something to drink … Busy himself until sleep started to sound appealing again, really. Anything but lay around in that fucking bed that clearly wasn't made with someone his size in mind.
So he put on the jumpsuit that was given to him -- that at least fit -- and decided to walk the halls. It felt ... strangely dreamlike, honestly. Maybe it's the fact that he's tired, maybe it's all so alien to him that it doesn't seem real ... he doesn't know.
He doesn't want to dwell on it, honestly.
Anyone who happens to be awake can find him. He’s not a hard man to spot. Maybe they catch him as they exit his room. Maybe they find him in the halls, wandering around and trying to commit landmarks to memory so that he has some rough picture of the place in his head to navigate by.
He’s awake for a good, long while that night. Plenty of opportunity.
What: Insomnia-Driven Wanderings
Where: Various places around P90
When: Night One
Warnings/Notes: Nothing at present, but I'll update if that changes
It’s clear fairly early on that Aleifr’s first night on Piper 90 would be a restless one.
Simply put: He didn’t like it here.
He didn’t like the fact that he was a dozens floors off the ground in some metal monstrosity, feeling the vibrations of it's slow, steady movements like the faintest tremor of one of Fenris's summer quakes.
He didn’t like the distant engine noises, or the echoing footsteps of boots on metal. He was used to near silence at night; gently whistling winds carrying the soft crackle of a campfire or the murmurs of a distant conversation. If a night got that loud on Fenris, it was either feast day revelery, or you needed to be on your feet with an axe in your hand.
He didn’t like that he was trapped here. He didn’t like that he’d been dragged here against his will on someone’s whim. He didn’t like that he had no idea why either. He didn't know if there was even an ounce of truth in the rat-faced man's story about the near end of the world, or what the hell part he was supposed to play in that design if it was. He fucking hated that there was nothing that he could do about it.
He didn’t like sleeping alone, either. Wasn’t used to it anymore.
He’d still made an effort, if only so he wouldn’t be sleep deprived while dealing with whatever tomorrow brings. He might have been able to find an hour or two if he was on his own furs, but even the bed worked against him. It was too damned soft, and no matter which way he lay he couldn’t shake the feeling that he was sinking into it.
Needless to say, sleep didn’t come. All he did was toss and turn for a few hours until he grew sick of it.
He decided he needed to do something. Walk. Memorize his surroundings, get something to eat, something to drink … Busy himself until sleep started to sound appealing again, really. Anything but lay around in that fucking bed that clearly wasn't made with someone his size in mind.
So he put on the jumpsuit that was given to him -- that at least fit -- and decided to walk the halls. It felt ... strangely dreamlike, honestly. Maybe it's the fact that he's tired, maybe it's all so alien to him that it doesn't seem real ... he doesn't know.
He doesn't want to dwell on it, honestly.
Anyone who happens to be awake can find him. He’s not a hard man to spot. Maybe they catch him as they exit his room. Maybe they find him in the halls, wandering around and trying to commit landmarks to memory so that he has some rough picture of the place in his head to navigate by.
He’s awake for a good, long while that night. Plenty of opportunity.
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It's been a very long time since he's encountered someone bigger than him. There are beasts on Fenris absolutely dwarf him, but he hasn't met a man taller than him since the end of his fourth great year.
Despite the endless turns the day has taken, despite how desensitized he is to surprises at just this moment ... the fact that this man makes him feel small still gives him a moment's pause.
"The latter."
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He shakes his head. "Their weapons are clearly inferior to anything smithed by hand. Machine-cast imitations with no art to them."
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What sort of place must this man have come from that walls of steel and metal-men swinging weapons of their own accord is inadequate?
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handwaving a bit..
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So she steps up to where he can see her, waving.
"Hey. New here?"
Saturday is very small five feet one inch - and very densely muscled. He may see pointed ears under her mop of black hair, but her height and her face - strong bones, not delicate - argue against her being the kind of elf he's familiar with. That, and she isn't insulting anyone or trying to murder them.
"I'm Saturday."
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He does notice the pointed ears, and they do stand out to him ... but every corner he turns in this place, he encounters something he's never seen before. Perhaps it's because he's tired, perhaps it's because of how many rapid-fire surprises he's dealt with today ... but he just sort of accepts it.
Tiny woman with pointed ears. Why not?
"Aleifr." He introduces himself, nodding in acknowledgement. "And yes."
Obvious, he supposes. He's seen others who look uncomfortable in this place, but they at least have some grasp on the things that make it run.
"You're not?"
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Saturday is standing a bit back from him. She has to, in order to actually see his face. So many tall people on this damn rig.
"Where are you from?"
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As for where he's from ...
"Fenris, if that means anything to you."
He's not hopeful that it will. She might not be fond of this place, but she doesn't seem quite as ... out of place, in the middle of it.
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She smiles up at Aleifr, a new face, even if it is a scowling one. "Well, aren't you a tall drink of water?"
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She's certainly more ... cheerful to be here than anyone he's met so far.
"Very observant."
Sarcastic, but not in a cutting way. He just doesn't really know what else to say at the moment.
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The protective charm was gone. Vanished or washed out on arrival - it doesn't matter. It was a horrifying realization that cemented in the fact that he wasn't going to sleep that night. Even if he knew for certain he'd be safe, his body was all too used to the nightly ritual he'd done for two years. His eyes would stay peeled open until dawn, no matter how long he stayed in bed.
His fingers reach up touch the rune carved into his skin, wondering what the hell he was going to do now, until a shadow passes the corner of his eye. The New Hires' rooms had their doors left open, making it easy to see inside (and vice-versa). An all-too-attentive tension grips his face even as he recognizes the face of the man he spotted.
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It's the unblinking gaze of a wolf across the ice, weighing the object of it's attention as a potential threat, and it's not something you see in the eyes of most people.
The man had struck him as hardened and capable at least, and very, very dangerous at most when they'd met in the cafeteria. Right now, the pendulum's swung very decisively towards the latter.
So Aleifr stops and meets the man's eyes.
"Can't sleep?"
His voice is casual. A touch tenser than conversational, but the man will find the same, unblinking intensity in Aleifr's eyes.
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He really didn't need to say anything to answer that question. The tense lines in his face looked more ready for a long fight than for any hope of lying on a bed. It was unlike the calm disposition he had earlier that day. Something was definitely wrong - at least, in his mind.
Guts takes small solace in the fact that it was man at his door, instead of something worse. If he's lucky, a lack of sleep will be all he has to deal with tonight, on top of everything else.
He slowly allows his hand to release its tight grip on the sink and rises to meet him. Guts recognizes him - it was hard not to, on size alone. The way with which he carried himself reminded him of a mercenary soldier. The guy wouldn't look out of place cleaning blood out of his armor after a long castle siege.
"Don't like sleeping without my sword," he says quietly, gaze easing once he realizes there's no threat.
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It's better than staring at a wall. And she doesn't have the computers at hand to (safely) explore the networks.
Now, though, she's on her way back to the robotics lab, to tweak a small project she had going. She'd thought the others were all asleep, so running into Aleifr in these cramped halls is a bit of a surprise for her. Just like her softly glowing eyes might be a bit of a surprise for him.
Still, not too bothered after the initial shock, she plants her hands on her hips, craning her neck to look up at him. He's almost a foot taller than her and awfully big for a human. But he was breathing and that was a distinct heat signature there, so... "I didn't know we had bears wandering the halls at night," she comments with in a wry tone.
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Granted, the only person he'd ever seen with that particular feature had powerful magic at her disposal, so seeing that was ... concerning.
The joke does ease things, though, and something that might generously be called the beginnings of a smile appear at the corner of his mouth for a moment.
"Apologies if I startled you."
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At least they'd managed to find him a fitting jumpsuit. Her mind flickers to Phos and the way they practically swam in their clothes.
"Having troubles getting to sleep? I'm guessing they didn't have a bed in your size." They're all pretty standard, and she knows some people are complaining about the mats. And Aleifr's a very non-standard guy.
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latelatelate
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"Good God-Emperor, what do they feed you?" Cain remarks, staring up. Then winces slightly when he hears what comes out of his mouth, but it's a little late to retract that.
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"Same shit they feed you, I'd imagine."
Aleifr doesn't sound particularly amused, nor is he smiling ... but that almost sounded like a joke. Dry as a bone and just as cuttingly sarcastic, but all the same.
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"You have me there." Really, he should consider himself lucky that the rather large fellow didn't take more offense. "Pardon my language, it's late. My mental faculties aren't quite all there."
Ah, the shelter of self-deprecating humor.
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"Morning!" She waves at Aleifr as they draw closer. "You're up early."
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He didn't think it had been that long, and considering how bloody tired he was, he wasn't happy to hear that.
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Is she one of those obnoxious people who's awake and running half marathons at six AM? She sure is.
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"Hey! Hey-o!" As he wanders the halls, he notices that guy who looks like you supersized the beardy dude from Lord of the Rings. It's not that he's looking for Aleifr or anything, but it's a sign of life and the possibility of being distracted from the frustrated ennui of a night waiting for an unrested morning doing jumping jacks for that piece-of-shit Planker. Aleifr is, as a mostly unknown entity, compellingly full of possibilities. Sure, they didn't get along when Mac tried to unionize, but Mac's greatest virtue is (obviously) his benevolent, forgiving nature. Like Jesus, really. Jesus with cool tattoos.
He saunters on over, wearing his uniform (sleeves cut off in an almost charmingly incompetent way) but also the flip-flops they give people here with apocalyptic warnings of athlete's foot. The make little smacking sounds against the floor, which is fine, because Mac wasn't trying for stealth. If he were, you'd know. Or you wouldn't! That'd be more stealthier, when he thinks about it.
"This place suck or what?"
*Total bitch and wildly unreasonable.
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Arguing will accomplish nothing, and he frankly doesn't have the energy for it right now.
"Immensely."
He's never heard 'suck' used in that context before, but the context makes it clear enough.
Neither of them likes this place.
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"I don't know about you, but I mean, you look like you could pack them away." Mac squints up at Aleifr and tilts his head. "You want to see if we can harass and bitch at the mess hall staff until they give us some beers? If we hit the gym first, we can even grab some of those little floor scooters** to make a quick getaway."
*Mac hates the showers, but he's not a goddamn caveman so he puts up with them. The showers here are like, the shitty old sheetcake of bathing.
**Aw yeah bitch.
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zooming in a month later
what up what up