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goneawayworld2020-05-17 03:11 am
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SHIFTING THE PARADIGM - ADVERSE RIG EVENT

SHIFTING THE PARADIGM

PLOT DESCRIPTION
To say that the New Hires are unlucky is something of an understatement. After all, they're here, aren't they? They were the unlucky ones swept out of their worlds, left unconscious for Jorgmund to find, "hired," implanted with shock collars. They were unlucky enough to get caught, and now they're being mega, double, septuple screwed by a casual backhand of fate.
The rig doesn't often face a full breach. It does today.
The announcements start with a tinny warning: "RED ALERT: SEVERE STUFF STORM COALESCING OFF STARBOARD SIDE. PREPARE FOR RIG TO COME TO FULL STOP."
Anyone near windows can see it on the side facing the Wilds, a roiling, thundering mass of gray clouds that look a little more liquid than normal clouds. Lightning crackles, illuminating it from within but the color of the lightning isn't just white or yellow. Each thundering crackle flashes in a prism of unnatural colors.
The rig comes to a stop. Since it was going so slow, there isn't much of a change in momentum but they can feel it in the vibration of the braking mechanisms and creaking and groaning of tons of metal suddenly facing some minor strain. The storm expands up to the top of the atmosphere, anvil-shaped, flattening against the tropopause.
"RED ALERT: SEVERE STUFF STORM COALESCING STARBOARD SIDE. PREPARE FOR POSSIBLE ADVERSE RIG EVENT. SHELTER IN QUARTERS AND OTHER SHIELDED AREAS. CHILD CARE STAFF, RELOCATE YOUR CHARGES TO NEAREST SHIELDED BUNKER. ALL STAFF, REPORT ANY UNREALITY EVENTS TO RIG COMMAND FROM THE NEAREST ALARM PHONE, AND FIND SHELTER UNTIL SECURITY TEAM IS DEPLOYED."
The Stuff storm slams into the rig, making it sway just slightly. The wind pouring through the gaps in the rig structure howls in a way that sounds like inhuman screams. Thanks to the Stuff visibility drops to a very gray 0%.
A prerecorded message now starts playing. Celeste Lillian, with her soothing voice, speaking mantras:
"Staff members and couriers of hope, in this stressful time, I remind you to pause, take a moment, and breathe so deeply your lungs cannot hold any more of our Mother Earth's air. Breathe in, breathe out. The act of breathing is so precious because it's both necessary and voluntary. It is a gift you give yourself. Value yourself enough to give yourself the gift of a full, honest, complete breath."
Super helpful, right?
"Clear your minds, let go of any thoughts. Remember: 'The ocean changes. I can float.'"
But all hell breaks loose and mantras won't do a thing to stop it. The rig's many ventilation shafts have filters and metal covers to help shield against stuff, but they aren't replaced as often as they should be. Inspections are thorough but some material resources are scarce.
Stuff breaks through the covers and ventilation filters, sweeps through the rig, and reality gets less real.
"RED ALERT: FULL BREACH. RED ALERT: FULL BREACH. RED ALERT: FULL BREACH..."
SCENARIO #1 - PRODUCTIVITY

The rig's staff instantly increases by several orders of magnitude. The new employees don't talk and for the most part they don't pay attention to anyone else. They mill through the hallways, gesturing to each other as if they're colleagues walking and talking about the last meeting as they move through the halls.
Most of them are in full professional dress, suits and ties. But sometimes this dress is from a variety of eras, hearkening back to the idea of business. That means a lot of power suits and shoulder pads, and even some old fashioned bow ties, top hats, and glittering gold pocketwatch chains. Here and there, sometimes there's even a glimpse of someone in older merchant's clothing, flashy in a way that suggests "people send me regular complaints on cuneiform tablets about how I sold them inferior copper ingots." The mystery executives despawn and respawn randomly, phasing in and out of existence. Sometimes two will spawn in the same spot, somehow superimposed, like a glitch in a video game, twitching helplessly until reality goes "whoops!" and phases them back out of existence.
They have no faces, but the way they sometimes randomly turn to face the New Hires, staring them down, body language wary, makes it clear they can somehow see or sense without eyes. They sometimes speak with no mouths but the sounds don't sound like real language, and are always muffled.
New office or meeting room doors start flickering in and out of existence. Each time one appears it draws the nearest New Hires in, warping the metal floor in front of them so every step draws them inexorably inward. Inside, the New Hires find themselves pinned by stares from nonexistent eyes, the drones expectant. Maybe even impatient.
They're late.
Each room has a different scenario that must be satisfied to make the room go away, all of them the subconscious corporate imaginings of rig executives and staff, fears and secret wishes and ambitious aspirations all rolled together. The drones watch the New Hires carefully to make sure they follow "corporate policy" and obey the rules of the scenario, their body language growing more and more aggressive and threatening the more they fight it. They will eventually attack if New Hires don't follow through. There's no such thing as simply reporting someone to HR in their (nonexistent) eyes.
When each scenario is forced to completion by the New Hires playing ball until conditions are satisfied, the drones...dissolve. Trees suddenly sprout through their clothes, then flower. The petals scatter through a sudden breeze that always smells of grass and leaves and wet plants and gentle rains.
Finally free.
PROMPTS
a) resource management
The room has a table and chairs at the front. It's stacked with piles of unsharpened pencils and several electric or manual pencil sharpeners. The table looks out on rows of chairs, filled with faceless drones.
Watching... waiting...
Every time you finish sharpening a pencil there's light applause. It's a big pile of pencils, but at least it's an easy task. The drones don't seem to mind if you talk to break up the monotony.
Like so much of corporate life? Thrilling.
b) flipping through the deck
Have you ever had a nightmare where you had to do an oral test in front of the class that you weren't prepared for? Now imagine one where your teacher and classmates will beat you senseless if you get it wrong.
The slideshow being shown on the smartboard is completely nonsensical. That means the presentation can be just as nonsensical. New Hires can work together to bullshit on any topic, or maybe even just spout total nonsense. Either way, the drones around the conference table occasionally offer light applause and then turn to each other to confab in their nonsense mutterings, before turning back to watch once more.
When the meeting is perceived to be over, the drones stand, lightly clap, and flower.
Sometimes in rooms like this the drones hand over a list of corporate buzzwords that must be included, but they don't seem to care if it's in context.
Buzzwords: Break down the silos, tee it up, paradigm shift, low-hanging fruit, move the needle, run it up the flagpole, on the bleeding edge, synergy, core competency, leverage.
c) on the spot improvisation
Similar to the other presentation rooms except...
Oh, these are actual Jorgmund executives. The door sucked you into a normal meeting that they're cheerfully having despite the Stuff breach. They ask you your opinions on improving rig operations and quality of life and expect you to give honest answers.
But not too honest.
d) you've got some splainin' to do
You're handed hair nets and aprons and glared at until you put them on. The room is a small room in a factory line, with a conveyor belt passing through. The drone that henpecked you into putting on the aprons holds up a chocolate, points to the aperture the chocolates go through at the end of the conveyor belt, and shakes her head furiously. Then she wraps the chocolate in one of the wrappers from a stack of them, points back to the aperture and nods.
The garbled nonsense she "says" doesn't communicate it, but the gestures do: Wrapped chocolates go through, unwrapped ones don't.
Once the New Hires are in place in the conveyor line, the drone smacks a hand twice against the wall and the conveyor belt starts. Fortunately the drone leaves, but now the New Hires have chocolates they have to wrap, and they have to wrap them quickly.
The line is fast but not impossible. It's still a scramble and chocolate might have to be shoved in their hats and clothes to keep the drone from coming back and getting angry. Fortunately, you only have to reach a quote of 100 (as stated by a helpful sign on the wall) before the room spits you back out - sticky and smeared with chocolate - and fades away.
One perk: the chocolate won't disappear, but it's definitely some waxy, cheap stuff and sometimes the filling is a flavor that doesn't really pair well with chocolate.
e) the it crowd
You're led to desk with computers that don't actually work. Only nonsense words and memes (and nonsense memes) show up on the screens. That's fine because the people calling in on the phones are real people on the rig, trying to work despite the Stuff storm because of Company Loyalty™, and that means their problems are real stupid. Even laymen might be able to guide them through it.
They may include questions about the "cupholder," them not realizing the monitor has to be turned on, and issues easily resolved by a restart. Since the calls are real, there's a chance you can use some good old fashioned psychological engineering to gain useful things like usernames an passwords.
The drones don't seem to care if you chat among yourselves between calls, confer with one another (or mock the caller) while the phone is on mute, or whether the advice is even good. They only care that it's given. After a seemingly random quota is met, the drones expire, and room spits you back out and disappears. You'll find you have a small rubber duck in your pocket after you're spit back out again.
The ducks seem to not do anything. Yet.
Players can request the mods come up with idiotic IT issues for their thread.
f) breaking the ice
What is with this place's obsession with never-ending icebreakers?
This time it's less optional. You're are forced to sit in chairs across from each other or in a ring if more than two of you are pulled in. A sign on a small table between you says "2 truths, 1 lie" or "Truth or truth" (The drones seem to have forgotten the dare part). But sometimes a different game (of players' choosing) is displayed. The drones can seemingly sense whenever New Hires are lying and their behavior starts to grow hostile if they do, relaxing when they tell the truth.
The room won't release New Hires until there's been enough growth or honesty equivalent to a life-changing field trip.
g) corporate (property) restructuring
The drones are based on the thoughts of employees and that means the things they dream of doing, like taking a bat and going ham on a printer-copier. When you're pulled into a nonexistent department you're handed baseball bats and pointed at various pieces of office equipment.
The hostile language of the suited drones - also with their own baseball bats - means it would be wise for you to direct your un-vented frustrations at the equipment. All of it.
Or the drones might vent their aggression - with bats - at you. At least smashing shit up with a buddy - old or new - is cathartic? And that baseball bat can maybe be tucked away in a hideyhole somewhere for later use.
h) staring at the camera like...
This room is a small office space with chairs against a wall that has a window with closed blinds. The drones have a professional looking camera set up, pointing at the chairs, like it's some kind of confessional. These drones look more like the crew of a documentary than the other office drones, but have the same blank faces.
They gesture for the New Hires to sit down and hold up a paper that says: "Tell us how you really feel about this place and your fellow employees."
It's not like the drones are Jorgmund employees so maybe it's a safe place to let loose and have a vent session with a fellow New Hire? Interacting with each other during the vent gets nods of approval from the directors and crew. Trashing Jorgmund? Gets even more approval. They're loving that chemistry, guys.
i) wild card
Have a scenario idea that we haven't thought of? Go crazy! Pick some weird corporate scenario to play around with. The Stuff has plenty to work with thanks to the anxieties of the real corporate drones working for Jorgmund, and also because of all the office-related TV and movies they consume.
The room has a table and chairs at the front. It's stacked with piles of unsharpened pencils and several electric or manual pencil sharpeners. The table looks out on rows of chairs, filled with faceless drones.
Watching... waiting...
Every time you finish sharpening a pencil there's light applause. It's a big pile of pencils, but at least it's an easy task. The drones don't seem to mind if you talk to break up the monotony.
Like so much of corporate life? Thrilling.
b) flipping through the deck
Have you ever had a nightmare where you had to do an oral test in front of the class that you weren't prepared for? Now imagine one where your teacher and classmates will beat you senseless if you get it wrong.
The slideshow being shown on the smartboard is completely nonsensical. That means the presentation can be just as nonsensical. New Hires can work together to bullshit on any topic, or maybe even just spout total nonsense. Either way, the drones around the conference table occasionally offer light applause and then turn to each other to confab in their nonsense mutterings, before turning back to watch once more.
When the meeting is perceived to be over, the drones stand, lightly clap, and flower.
Sometimes in rooms like this the drones hand over a list of corporate buzzwords that must be included, but they don't seem to care if it's in context.
Buzzwords: Break down the silos, tee it up, paradigm shift, low-hanging fruit, move the needle, run it up the flagpole, on the bleeding edge, synergy, core competency, leverage.
c) on the spot improvisation
Similar to the other presentation rooms except...
Oh, these are actual Jorgmund executives. The door sucked you into a normal meeting that they're cheerfully having despite the Stuff breach. They ask you your opinions on improving rig operations and quality of life and expect you to give honest answers.
But not too honest.
d) you've got some splainin' to do
You're handed hair nets and aprons and glared at until you put them on. The room is a small room in a factory line, with a conveyor belt passing through. The drone that henpecked you into putting on the aprons holds up a chocolate, points to the aperture the chocolates go through at the end of the conveyor belt, and shakes her head furiously. Then she wraps the chocolate in one of the wrappers from a stack of them, points back to the aperture and nods.
The garbled nonsense she "says" doesn't communicate it, but the gestures do: Wrapped chocolates go through, unwrapped ones don't.
Once the New Hires are in place in the conveyor line, the drone smacks a hand twice against the wall and the conveyor belt starts. Fortunately the drone leaves, but now the New Hires have chocolates they have to wrap, and they have to wrap them quickly.
The line is fast but not impossible. It's still a scramble and chocolate might have to be shoved in their hats and clothes to keep the drone from coming back and getting angry. Fortunately, you only have to reach a quote of 100 (as stated by a helpful sign on the wall) before the room spits you back out - sticky and smeared with chocolate - and fades away.
One perk: the chocolate won't disappear, but it's definitely some waxy, cheap stuff and sometimes the filling is a flavor that doesn't really pair well with chocolate.
e) the it crowd
You're led to desk with computers that don't actually work. Only nonsense words and memes (and nonsense memes) show up on the screens. That's fine because the people calling in on the phones are real people on the rig, trying to work despite the Stuff storm because of Company Loyalty™, and that means their problems are real stupid. Even laymen might be able to guide them through it.
They may include questions about the "cupholder," them not realizing the monitor has to be turned on, and issues easily resolved by a restart. Since the calls are real, there's a chance you can use some good old fashioned psychological engineering to gain useful things like usernames an passwords.
The drones don't seem to care if you chat among yourselves between calls, confer with one another (or mock the caller) while the phone is on mute, or whether the advice is even good. They only care that it's given. After a seemingly random quota is met, the drones expire, and room spits you back out and disappears. You'll find you have a small rubber duck in your pocket after you're spit back out again.
The ducks seem to not do anything. Yet.
Players can request the mods come up with idiotic IT issues for their thread.
f) breaking the ice
What is with this place's obsession with never-ending icebreakers?
This time it's less optional. You're are forced to sit in chairs across from each other or in a ring if more than two of you are pulled in. A sign on a small table between you says "2 truths, 1 lie" or "Truth or truth" (The drones seem to have forgotten the dare part). But sometimes a different game (of players' choosing) is displayed. The drones can seemingly sense whenever New Hires are lying and their behavior starts to grow hostile if they do, relaxing when they tell the truth.
The room won't release New Hires until there's been enough growth or honesty equivalent to a life-changing field trip.
g) corporate (property) restructuring
The drones are based on the thoughts of employees and that means the things they dream of doing, like taking a bat and going ham on a printer-copier. When you're pulled into a nonexistent department you're handed baseball bats and pointed at various pieces of office equipment.
The hostile language of the suited drones - also with their own baseball bats - means it would be wise for you to direct your un-vented frustrations at the equipment. All of it.
Or the drones might vent their aggression - with bats - at you. At least smashing shit up with a buddy - old or new - is cathartic? And that baseball bat can maybe be tucked away in a hideyhole somewhere for later use.
h) staring at the camera like...
This room is a small office space with chairs against a wall that has a window with closed blinds. The drones have a professional looking camera set up, pointing at the chairs, like it's some kind of confessional. These drones look more like the crew of a documentary than the other office drones, but have the same blank faces.
They gesture for the New Hires to sit down and hold up a paper that says: "Tell us how you really feel about this place and your fellow employees."
It's not like the drones are Jorgmund employees so maybe it's a safe place to let loose and have a vent session with a fellow New Hire? Interacting with each other during the vent gets nods of approval from the directors and crew. Trashing Jorgmund? Gets even more approval. They're loving that chemistry, guys.
i) wild card
Have a scenario idea that we haven't thought of? Go crazy! Pick some weird corporate scenario to play around with. The Stuff has plenty to work with thanks to the anxieties of the real corporate drones working for Jorgmund, and also because of all the office-related TV and movies they consume.
SCENARIO #2 - VIOLENCE
Some beings created by Stuff are alive and/or sentient. These are the New, but the drones are not New. They don't think and are therefore unable to reify the occasional wisp of stuff around the rig. They're more like programs in the computer of reality or like animations set into motion by the minds animating them.
But even if they're not alive, they are dangerous. They have no brains, no vital organs, no easy way to kill them. Since you need a thick skin to survive corporate life, it's very hard to break through their skin. When this finally occurs they start bleeding odd substances and objects. Cyan, magenta, yellow, and black printer ink. Paper clips. Sometimes it's thumb tacks, which makes walking and fighting very fraught. Go down even once and you might have a butt or back full of them.
No matter how much they bleed, however, they don't deflate or bleed to death. Only total destruction or dismemberment can slow them down. Fortunately, how much it takes to damage them seems to always be magically scaled to what the New Hires in the room are capable of.
That means it's somewhat unwise to fight them but it's at least not impossible. New Hires that want to try will be given their weapons and gear if they manage to make their way down to the armory near the training room. While New Hires will be hunted down later if they don't return most weapons and specific gear items, the chaos means some of the more disposable items - grenades, arrows, throwing knives - might possibly be tucked away somewhere without notice. For later. Excuses can be made about their use or loss, after all.
Players that know ahead of a time they want a fight scenario can always list one of the other scenarios above and note their preference for combat.
Since New Hires will have to go to the armory to get equipped, they can also have some threads with weapons and others without, to suit player needs.
➤ Finite threat: While the doors can open anywhere and suck anyone in, the total number of rooms that need to be eliminated is finite. This means the New Hires clearing them out can eventually shut them all to avoid permanent, perilous addition to the rig's reality. They'll notice the number of doors that flash in and out of existence decreasing the more they go through scenarios.
➤ Opt out: Players may opt out of the plot by having it so New Hires mysteriously find their room door locked and impossible to open, even by force. Or players can make use of the "alternate reality" mechanic, where the characters are shifted temporarily into a calmer, alternate version of the timeline where they have a normal, quiet rig day. That band of possible reality will collapse and fold them back into the main rig reality when the event is over. This means if players want to completely ignore the event and work on their old threads, they don't even have to come up with a handwave. Their character might just be a little confused and need to be filled in when the event is over and reality folds them back in.
➤ NPC request: If you'd like the mods to npc a stupid IT call in a thread, hit the thread below and link to where they should come in.
➤ Questions: If you have questions about the event, want to know what your characters can get away with during the chaos, want to know if your characters can squirrel away secure info or grenades etc., feel free to hit the questions comment below to make your requests.
no subject
"The tattoo." After he gave the answer, he finally looked at her. "I don't think you'd get it removed."
Some people had regrets but she didn't seem the type. Though given her previous interest in Ronan's tattoo, he guessed that she either had a cheap one or none at all.
cw: dismemberment
"My walls are pink," she said. She raised her right arm and tapped the inside of her wrist. "I had a moon here. Incredibly cheesy, but I was high on adrenaline and some other stuff at the time. Lost it when I lost the arm."
She very clearly had an arm right now, but the drones didn't seem to be objecting.
no subject
She definitely still had an arm and not a prosthetic either. That was interesting enough that he made no comment about a cheesy moon. He'd just take it as evidence that he could make better decisions while riding an adrenaline high.
...Wait...
cw: dismemberment
And they're dead now. Because fuck those guys.
no subject
That might be too personal but like that thought would occur to Ronan, at least when it came to revenge.
no subject
And she'll just skip over whether or not she had a hand in those deaths...
cw: murder
He certainly would've preferred justice when it came to Greenmantle. The revenge had been worth everything he went through to get it, especially since it kept his loved ones safe, but he wished he hadn't needed to make those sacrifices.
"My father was murdered," he said. The words surprised himself and what was worse, he couldn't take it back. But he could continue the game. "I drive a BMW and I play tennis."
Not his best but the the best he could do at the moment.
Re: cw: murder
Oops, she'd meant that as a bonus two-truths-and-a-lie. But since he'd sprung ahead with his own, she'll just fill him in later if it becomes relevant to him.
Stacia cocks her head to the side. "You don't seem like a tennis player, so I'm just going to say that sucks and I'm sorry. I don't have any advice to share on that topic."
A beat.
"You know, cars."
See, she's willing to give you an 'out' sometimes, Ronan.
no subject
When the drones began to whisper to each other, their voices somehow menacing, Ronan wondered if that wasn't close enough to a lie to count.
He turned to face them. "What's your problem? I'm not one anymore. That's the lie."
Then he realized that their faceless eyes had focused on Stacia.
"...Do you know what their problem is?" His southern accent blurred the first two words together.
cw: murder
She turned back to Ronan. "I gave you another two truths and a lie. Five of the six of them are dead, the sixth was ruled...young enough that she could probably turn her life around with appropriate guidance and support." Not that Stacia wasn't still going to be keeping tabs on the other Garou. "Since she was just part of my maiming rather than my packmates' murders, I was willing not to press it."
As far as the little idiot knows, her pack literally tore each other apart because of something she said. Stacia's willing to let her walk away carrying that pain.
Re: cw: murder
He looked at Stacia, oddly contemplative. "Do you know if she did?" he asked. "Turn her life around."
Re: cw: murder
Stacia raised her eyebrows.
"They attacked my pack two months before I came here," she said, keeping her voice level. "And their house of cards collapsed on them six weeks after that. Two weeks isn't enough time to recover from the deaths of her packmates, much less rethink everything they taught her about blood supremacy."
She hasn't recovered from the deaths of her packmates. Throwing herself into avenging them helped carry her through the worst of the grief, but the holes in her mind where Lilly and Bares-His-Fangs should be are raw and tender. They ache in a way that the spot that Ace will return to when she gets home doesn't.
She shifts in her seat, flexing her fingers.
"I honestly hope she does turn it around," she says, a little distantly. "It won't make up for Lilly and Bares-H -- Bares' deaths, but I want something more than destruction in their memory."
Re: cw: murder
His brow furrowed when Stacia went on. Was that what Ronan had wanted? No, his father had already left three sons. Whether or not they were going to leave something more than destruction remained to be seen.
"Hadn't thought of it that way." He paused. "I don't know if my dad would've cared. I'm not sure if I really care what he'd think. We're the ones who have to live with it." Another pause, then. "Sorry about your friends."
no subject
He'd only learned to use a phone at all because she'd convinced him that a tool he didn't know how to use was a weapon in the hands of his enemies. Still, wasn't a fan of technology. Magic infinite meat fridge from the fae aside.
She shakes her head. "Sorry, I shouldn't be unloading this on you."
no subject
"I hate phones." Though he used to ignore texts instead of sending back even shitty responses.
He shrugged. "There're worse things you can do. Anyway I think that's the point of this." He jerked his head toward their audience, who stared at Stacia intently.
"Creepy bastards," Ronan muttered.
no subject
Stacia slid a glance at their audience.
"But hey, if you think they're looking for vulnerability or bonding or whatever, I can definitely fill an hour or two with People I Know Who Have Died." She flashed Ronan a brief wry sort of smile. "And if you want People I Know Who Did Stupid Shit That Should Have Killed Them But Didn't, we could be here all day."
no subject
no subject
With some significant editing vis-a-vis the fact that he was wolf-born, since she's still keeping what details about Garou she can close to the chest.
"He was already comfortable with shifting when I first came on the scene. Not quite sure how long he'd been at it, but long enough for him to have done a bit of traveling. Big into forest conservation, didn't care much for regular humans waltzing around in the woods like they owned the place. He stumbled across a meth lab in the woods once and decided the best way to deal with it was to just...bust in there and start hitting things." Stacia rolled her eyes dramatically. "So stupid, damn near got himself killed. But he was a good guy. Watched my back for me more times than I can count, tolerated my best little sister-style brattiness...and man, he could talk. He wasn't a chatterbox, but he had the rhetoric, you know? When he decided that he had something to say that you needed to hear, you heard it. He could throw down the verbal gauntlet like a master."
Stacia covered her eyes with her fingers, taking a deep breath and then slowly letting it out again.
"He was running with us because he wanted to learn how to lead other people. We gave him shit and we pushed him and he was gonna be so good at it. He was already good at it. He--"
She slammed her hand down on the table, eyes rimmed red, a muscle jumping in her jaw.
"He was good and kind and strong, and he was going to be amazing, and he's dead and all I can do now is tell people about him. And I'm not as good at that as he deserves."
no subject
"I know. I think it's always like that. You can't ever really tell what someone's like from a story."
no subject
"Yeah," she agreed quietly, opening her eyes again. "Stories are always transformed by the teller, aren't they? Because you can only tell a story through your own eyes."
no subject
Before he answered Stacia, he thought of his father and how he had only known part of the man. Declan had seen a very different side. Neither of them could relate to the stories the other told of Niall Lynch. And then he thought of Adam, who he was sure he knew better than anyone (well, maybe excluding Matthew but that was different), and how he'd changed in ways Ronan couldn't have predicted.
Finally, he nodded. "I'm not sure if you ever know enough about someone to tell their whole story. When they die, you never get the chance to hear more of it-- or answers to any questions." He shrugged but something about the gesture seemed half-hearted, an action not to express a feeling but done solely because he felt he had to do something. "People say they live on in your memory. I don't know if that's true but it's all we get."
no subject
"Yeah," Stacia agreed again. "That's the problem with the dead, isn't it? All you can do is make do."
She props her chin against her palm, resting her elbow on the table again.
"Makes you wonder what people will say about you after you die, doesn't it?" she says. "How they'll remember you?" She flashes a brief grin. "I mean, besides the fact I recently told our werewolf corpse handler to toss my pretty white girl body onto the lawn of some shitty company we want investigated by human cops."