Star Liberaton (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
liberationherald) wrote in ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png)
robothell2015-07-01 11:35 am
liberationherald) wrote in robothell2015-07-01 11:35 am
The Kingdom of God is at Hand but the Hand is Empty
Who: Star Liberator and OPEN
Where: The Crater
When: After all the social festivities
What: Can someone pick up this lost kid.
Warnings: Years of militant pseudo-religious dogma at work.
[It felt like only yesterday when he was on another world, doing the righteous work of his father. Only yesterday he unleashed the full power of his loyalty, ripping into an equally warlike species. Only yesterday when a heat blast to the chest sent him plummeting to the bottom of a canyon, plummeting to a long sleep. When he awoke, he found time had changed much. He woke to find he was alone. And now like a sleeper coming off a second unexpected sleep, he had found himself in another dead world—at least it looked that way. Time changes many thing, but not his father, not the people he served. They resided in space, where the bonds of time could be mutable.
He clumsily settled onto all fours his claws scraping across the ground and stretching his wings, a complex interlacing of minature engines and nerve endings. They were fine, but his biggest concern came from his chassis. He had long been versed to recognize his own health when problems arose. His chest armor came from material he could scarecely understand, but he knew the damage hadn't messed with his heart or lungs. However with the damage it was obvious he didn't have sufficient power to break the atmosphere or enough strength to survive the ascent. And no contact, nothing.
With all these facts, he had to face the truth: he was trapped. The fact came to him with the detachment of a groggy person who had not become fully awake. But deep in himself he felt a twinge of an urge, telling him that staying in one place would do him no good. If he was trapped here, he had but two choices: scavenge this derelict world or claim it as an outpost for any of his future brethren to stumble across.
The first option came easiest, he found, as he already began to gallop across the earthy indentation, scrambling to the nearest scrap metal. He bent down to open and reveal his geometric teeth, taking a bite of the corroded material. It was not quite as nourishing as the ores he could find within the ground of worlds like these, but it was the first he had eaten in a long while. So distracted by this base instinct, he hadn't realized he let his guard down.]
Where: The Crater
When: After all the social festivities
What: Can someone pick up this lost kid.
Warnings: Years of militant pseudo-religious dogma at work.
[It felt like only yesterday when he was on another world, doing the righteous work of his father. Only yesterday he unleashed the full power of his loyalty, ripping into an equally warlike species. Only yesterday when a heat blast to the chest sent him plummeting to the bottom of a canyon, plummeting to a long sleep. When he awoke, he found time had changed much. He woke to find he was alone. And now like a sleeper coming off a second unexpected sleep, he had found himself in another dead world—at least it looked that way. Time changes many thing, but not his father, not the people he served. They resided in space, where the bonds of time could be mutable.
He clumsily settled onto all fours his claws scraping across the ground and stretching his wings, a complex interlacing of minature engines and nerve endings. They were fine, but his biggest concern came from his chassis. He had long been versed to recognize his own health when problems arose. His chest armor came from material he could scarecely understand, but he knew the damage hadn't messed with his heart or lungs. However with the damage it was obvious he didn't have sufficient power to break the atmosphere or enough strength to survive the ascent. And no contact, nothing.
With all these facts, he had to face the truth: he was trapped. The fact came to him with the detachment of a groggy person who had not become fully awake. But deep in himself he felt a twinge of an urge, telling him that staying in one place would do him no good. If he was trapped here, he had but two choices: scavenge this derelict world or claim it as an outpost for any of his future brethren to stumble across.
The first option came easiest, he found, as he already began to gallop across the earthy indentation, scrambling to the nearest scrap metal. He bent down to open and reveal his geometric teeth, taking a bite of the corroded material. It was not quite as nourishing as the ores he could find within the ground of worlds like these, but it was the first he had eaten in a long while. So distracted by this base instinct, he hadn't realized he let his guard down.]
no subject
He folds his arms, surveying until he finally decides to speak up.)
Having fun, big guy?
no subject
I'm eating.
Are you trying to note my diet?
no subject
(He casually shrugs.)
A guy's gotta keep from getting bored somehow, right?
no subject
[How many times does he need to say this.]
If you are bored, you can assist me.
no subject
(Now he's doing this on purpose.)
no subject
I can eat by myself.
You can find me a ship or parts to a ship.
no subject
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M...ood? Feeling?
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Yeah, you know. Feeling. What comes from in here.
(He pounds on his chest with a fist.)
no subject
You mean chemical imbalances.
no subject
(He raised a finger to speak up, but remains silent for a moment. His hand returns to his side.)
No. The metaphorical stuff.
no subject
Those are the chemical imbalances.
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You miss the point, I need a ship.
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