thearchangel | 17

Entry tags:

17 - Action

[Despite the irritation in his last entry, the local vigilante has taken it upon himself to try out the damn rifle anyway. It might not work as he wants it to, but he'll take potshots over losing his edge.]

[Which is why he's standing at the edge of the green, taking careful aim, and firing into one of the topiary shrubs. He's aiming for the central trunk, to avoid grazing the thing and hitting someone walking along behind it.]

[... between the sharp cracks of rifle fire, his head bobs in a rhythm. Almost like...]

[Okay, yes. Garrus has his music on.]

[And if you watch him long enough, he might even attempt some semblance of dancing.]

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[Shepard sure is chilling on a blanket, sprawled out comfortably on the green with her head resting on the arms crossed behind her head. One of those days where the light hits her just so, turning hair that usually looks like a muddy bastardization of auburn into blatant ginger.]

Nice moves, Vakarian.

[He hasn't realized the dancing. Not yet. He thinks she means his shooting. And, as such, he lifts a hand, turning the music down with a tap of a talon.]

It'd probably be better if these were actual targets.

I guess your aim's pretty good, too.

[Biting the inside of her cheek to keep from laughing, Shepard just chillaxes until he parses the implications and the things he's been doing with those turian hips.]

Do I need to bring up Fist's man and the bullet through his eye, Shepard?

[No, he still hasn't figured it out. He probably won't until he turns the music back on again.]

[HA HA OH WOW.

A strangled noise that isn't quite a laugh, but isn't quite a commiserating agreement regarding his skill with a rifle, comes from the place Shepard reclines in. But if Garrus turns around to check, all he'll see is her laid out, eyes shut, and smiling.]

Nahhh. You don't have to impress me.

Edited 2012-03-26 03:16 (UTC)

[Okay, he has to turn around when he hears that strangled noise, tilting his head at her.]

[He just sort of stares at her, blinking.]

... You all right, there?

[Kid's attention is quickly grabbed by the familiar sound of gunfire. Outside his pistols, he didn't even know there were guns here so he has to check this out.

When he finds Garrus he doesn't even blink. There's a lot of weird looking people here after all. However, he is staring at Garrus' gun.]

Cool rifle.

[He keeps firing a few more rounds before he catches sight of Kid out of the corner of his eye. Then he reaches up, turning the music down with a touch of a talon.]

Thanks. Been through a lot with me.

Reminds me of my rifle a little.

[Only this looks a lot more advance than his carbine.]

Your rifle?

[He stops, lowering the weapon, and turning to look at Kid fully.]

You're a marksman?

[Kid shrugs.]

I guess. I fought with it anyway.

[He's not sure if that makes him a marksman though.]

Fought? You've seen action?

Yeah.

[Though by the way he looks away it's clear he wished he hadn't.]

I had to do a light of fighting putting my world back together.

Putting your world back together?

[Kid nods his head.]

The Calamity destroyed it. I survived and was helping to put it back together.

Calamity...

Like what they're telling us happened here?

[He shrugs.]

I guess so, but it was a weapon. The Mancers made it and...it didn't end well.

But when everything was destroyed I ended up at the Bastion, not here.

[If the Calamity caused this much destruction, then why didn't he come here in the first place?]

So... your world was gone. You got sent somewhere else to fix it... and then that place got wiped out, too?

[He's trying to piece this together, see if it makes any sense.]

[Kid shakes his head.]

No, the Bastion is in Caelondia, my home. It's where we were supposed to go if there was an emergency, except only me and Rucks made it. We were gonna fix everything, even found some more people, but then I got sent here before we finished.

But the world-destroying. That's not something new?

Not really.

... I guess that's something.

[Kid lowers his head.]

I don't mean to be rude but...not really.

What do you mean, not really?

Because I rather not know what it's like to lose my home.

[And then lose it again.]

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