Marty Mikalski (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
foolproofed) wrote in ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png)
ataraxion2013-04-11 02:14 pm
foolproofed) wrote in ataraxion2013-04-11 02:14 pm
Entry tags:
video.
[Marty has retrieved his things from the locker; themos-bong, I've missed you so much. So, so much. He has it in his lap and sets it aside, plenty done with it for a good while. It's given him clarity; time to reflect on his life, on his future, on an evil ship doomed to ruin him as much as everything else has.
Okay, so he actually just came into his room, curled up, and cried for a little bit. And then smoked more. It's his depression solution.
But he's good now. He's cross-legged on his bed, looking as though he's been pondering considerably on the state of the Marty. Only whatever redness to his eyes can be contributed to his bong, if anyone questions it--he's too busy focusing on the now, instead of the then. It'll do him no good to let it drag him down; he can keep having all this doubt and survivor's guilt, but he can't let it crush him--because it wouldn't be fair to the others, when they never got the chance to come back.
No, he can figure it all out. He can think long and hard and maybe he can help these people where he couldn't help his own.]
Have you ever wondered if this place is your world's future? I know that's really morbid thinking and all, but this has to be in somebody's future--doesn't it? Maybe something crazy happened, people had nowhere to go, so they ran off to space. It's not like it's the craziest idea out there; we had--whole movies dedicated to stuff like this. Syfy originals. Books. Hell, I think I heard a radio story from ye olden days about it.
[He waves a finger at the air, looking off distantly.]
... I just can't figure out where everything went crazy aboard the ship--maybe there's some... entity. Like a spirit, or a god. Maybe it's getting its sick thrills off making us dance around like little lab rats. Or maybe it's whatever those hypothetical entities created. Maybe--maybe we're just being watched by something that brought us here just to see what we'll do. People say there's no reason we're here, or we haven't found one. But if I had to bet my piggy-bank back home on something... it'd be that. I'd guess it's also why it won't let anyone go out too far from home plate. Or why there are people who aren't people anymore.
Whatever we do, we gotta stick together. Or else... things'll just go from worse to worser. We gotta hang in there. Fuck Smiley and the monsters and the lack of wonderful snack foods--we gotta... just stick together...
[He's rambling now, whoops. Sighing at the sir, he reaches over, grabs his bong and talks as he turns the top, condensing the whole thing down into a normal thermos mug. ILU, thermy.]
I'm gonna go try to invent new things in the kitchen. Anyone wanna go? This place needs way more comfort food, and I'm pretty competent at Macguyver-ing together something worthy of consumption. Might even be able to do it without setting the whole ship on fire, too.
[HA HA it was a joke
just a joke
and then he wanders off without shutting down the feed. Distantly, and growing fainter:]
Maybe I can manufacture some space strain of toaster strudels.
[And true to his word, he'll be in the kitchens to see what awful abominations he can make wunderbar. He'll answer anything there, too, while he's at itand he remembers to retrieve his comm. Now... what does this place have in the way of sweet stuff? Surely lots of cans and cans and cans and oh look boxes. Feel free to actually find him there, casually drinking from said thermos.]
Okay, so he actually just came into his room, curled up, and cried for a little bit. And then smoked more. It's his depression solution.
But he's good now. He's cross-legged on his bed, looking as though he's been pondering considerably on the state of the Marty. Only whatever redness to his eyes can be contributed to his bong, if anyone questions it--he's too busy focusing on the now, instead of the then. It'll do him no good to let it drag him down; he can keep having all this doubt and survivor's guilt, but he can't let it crush him--because it wouldn't be fair to the others, when they never got the chance to come back.
No, he can figure it all out. He can think long and hard and maybe he can help these people where he couldn't help his own.]
Have you ever wondered if this place is your world's future? I know that's really morbid thinking and all, but this has to be in somebody's future--doesn't it? Maybe something crazy happened, people had nowhere to go, so they ran off to space. It's not like it's the craziest idea out there; we had--whole movies dedicated to stuff like this. Syfy originals. Books. Hell, I think I heard a radio story from ye olden days about it.
[He waves a finger at the air, looking off distantly.]
... I just can't figure out where everything went crazy aboard the ship--maybe there's some... entity. Like a spirit, or a god. Maybe it's getting its sick thrills off making us dance around like little lab rats. Or maybe it's whatever those hypothetical entities created. Maybe--maybe we're just being watched by something that brought us here just to see what we'll do. People say there's no reason we're here, or we haven't found one. But if I had to bet my piggy-bank back home on something... it'd be that. I'd guess it's also why it won't let anyone go out too far from home plate. Or why there are people who aren't people anymore.
Whatever we do, we gotta stick together. Or else... things'll just go from worse to worser. We gotta hang in there. Fuck Smiley and the monsters and the lack of wonderful snack foods--we gotta... just stick together...
[He's rambling now, whoops. Sighing at the sir, he reaches over, grabs his bong and talks as he turns the top, condensing the whole thing down into a normal thermos mug. ILU, thermy.]
I'm gonna go try to invent new things in the kitchen. Anyone wanna go? This place needs way more comfort food, and I'm pretty competent at Macguyver-ing together something worthy of consumption. Might even be able to do it without setting the whole ship on fire, too.
[HA HA it was a joke
just a joke
and then he wanders off without shutting down the feed. Distantly, and growing fainter:]
Maybe I can manufacture some space strain of toaster strudels.
[And true to his word, he'll be in the kitchens to see what awful abominations he can make wunderbar. He'll answer anything there, too, while he's at it
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[Don't mind her just giving you an assessing sort of once-over. He's still got a distinct aroma of... calm, but she's pretty sure that can't totally account for how blasé he's being. It's almost like he's seen worse.
Have you been to Silent Hill, Marty???]
What was all that stuff about a spirit or a god before? Just spitballing?
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Giant Ancient Gods. It'd be a good band name if it weren't totally true.
[Yes, let's casually talk about the fall of man, why not? It's not like he has complete brain-to-mouth control right now. His steps, however, are less peppy.]
The last day back home was traumatically life changing. Like, what's the meaning of life status. Let me tell you, being told you had to be sacrificially murdered--randomly--so ancient assholes down below get their rocks off?
Not the vacation of the summer you hope for.
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Hell with it, if he freaks out she's like... 60, 65% sure she could take him down.]
This vacation wasn't in a little place called Silent Hill, was it?
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Never heard of it. We weren't near much--it was all... Forest and country side, you know? We were supposed to be visiting this cabin my friend's cousin bought.
Things got kinda complicated from there... But nah. No Silent Hills. Or mystical mountains.
....
Why d'you ask? Does Silent Hill have a creepy underground facility full of supernatural monsters outta the movies?
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Not as far as I know. Wouldn't put it past them, but mostly it's the old gods and sacrifice bit that... piqued my interest.
I was born there. It's a shithole.
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[Less peppy, more serious. For a change.
He looks genuinely disappointed; not that she's bringing it up, but because there's clearly some fucked-up cosmic shit going on where everyone gets miserable tales to tell.]
You had all that shit, too?
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I got lucky, though. Got a do-over. Lot of people here didn't. So I'm sorry for your stuff too, I guess.
[I guess aside, she really means it. Fucked up as what they went through was, at least she and Alex can point to a chain of events and say "this is why". To have that shit happen to you because you just wandered into it, that seems even crueler.]
But hey, we're alive, we're whole, we've got the makings of sorbet, and unless my nose deceives me you have a - um, herbal relaxer. Things could definitely be worse.
1/2
I guess it's a good word for it. A pretty fucked up one, but still. [In a way, he was random. In a way, chosen. Shit, he's not sure which one it is, or which would be worse to use. He laughs, a grumbly low noise. He can't really stop himself from it, even if it might be inappropriate for the situation--their lives are just so fucked, in his hazy brain, he's pathetically sad-funny. Like a tragic space opera.] ... Sorry you got set on fire, though. If it helps, I got crushed to death by a giant hand of doom.
[Oh, he thinks you're dead now, because 'do-over' doesn't make any sense--like. at all. So... just assuming you're being cryptic as hell. Whoops.
I mean, after all, why not just offer her some comradeship in the face of death? If you're dead, I'm dead, we're all doomed, whatever. And yet despite this line of thinking, something extremely tired and lonely passes his features as he starts walking a little ahead of her.]
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Herbal relaxer. That's a nice way of saying it--maybe it'll keep half the ship from trying to catch me riding dirty on possession charges or something really stupid.
[edgeworth i'm talkin about you]
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she knows that look. She's seen it on a lot of faces she cares about. Most everybody ends up with it after a while here, anyway. There's an urge to say something, to try and comfort him, but... well, that look belongs there. It's all fucked up, and anybody who doesn't get a little worn-down by that isn't paying attention.
But then he moves on, pops out the other side of that moment like a leaf from an eddy in a stream, and she's happy enough to bob along.]
Ohhh. You met Edgeworth. [Because who else could it be, convinced that the rules of one particular piece of Earth apply to everyone out here?] Nah, he'd probably just try to do you for obstruction of justice or something for trying to mislead him. He's... not a bad guy. His heart's in the right place, he's just got a head full of rules screwing it up. I don't think anybody else really cares. There's not much to do for fun around here, so...
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[bein' blunt while smokin' blunts
marty's a classy dude lbr]
All those rules he lives by? Gonna get his ass beat for it, sooner or later. In a place full of freaked out space-marooned people, it's just a matter of time.
[He knows from experience; mouth off, and you will get punched in the gut. Or nose. Whichever.]
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They'll have to go through me. This isn't high school, you can't just beat somebody up for having a dumb opinion.
[Oh, that got serious in a hurry. She shrugs, smiles.]
It's probably the fact that you were on the network that got him going. Far as I know he's never given Jenna or Netherlands a hard time about it. He's probably just pulling the 'won't somebody think of the children' deal. I'm not saying you hafta hide it, but it might make your life easier. And trust me, that's an opportunity that doesn't crop up a lot here.
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[just saying]
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Shoulda told him reductio ad absurdium doesn't win cases in the court of real life. That was a dick thing to say, and I'm sorry you had to put up with it. But hey. Will sorbet make it better?
[Because
they're at the motherfuckin' kitchen y'all
time to make
a huge messsomething delectable!]no subject
Let's sorbet!! Not nearly as kinky as it sounds.
[He totally forgets he was grumpy at Edgeworth five seconds ago because there is a sparkle in his hooded eye and a jangle to his footstep.]
Anything delicious fixes anything not delicious. Not metaphorically delicious, I mean. If that makes sense. [leave me alone i'm trying; he motions for her to come along as he starts pulling pots and pans and all kinds of great stuff for kitchen damage.]
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Sounds like a solid philosophy to me. Okay, maestro, guide me. Whadda we need?
[Mixing bowls? Blender? Chef's hats? She's going for the sugar in the meantime in any case.]
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and she's thinking of the way they served it at the thai place near where she lived, with phrik nam pla and ginger and lemongrass, or the way her dad used to cook it in little parcel of baking parchment stuffed with lemon and scallions and a splash of white wine.
Not fair. She shakes her head.]
Okay, newbie, there aren't a lot of rules around here, but one of the unspoken ones is you don't talk about food we don't get here unless it's a designated, mutually consensual Reminiscing About Food conversation. You can't just spring that on a girl, it's not fair.
[It's too late
she's thinking about food god help you Marty]
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My sincerest apologies, freckled friend; I get really super into my food talk.
At least we'll be able to enjoy something for once today! If I don't completely fuck it up.
[I GOT THE MEASURING CUP, AWESOME]
Should I start talking about nasty food? Some places enjoy jellied moose nose.
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Hey, I don't mind. As long as I get time to prepare myself. And jellied moose nose sounds kinda interesting compared to some of the stuff here. I mean, at least you can trace it back to the damn moose. What's [and she pulls a tin from a shelf for purposes of illustration] "preserved meat product" meant to be anyway? I don't wanna put anything in my mouth that isn't straight-up about what it's from.
[Heather Mason is not one of nature's vegetarians, but sometimes you have to take a stand. After all, we are meat. We are meat.]
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Maybe the people who canned it don't even know, themselves...
It's Mystery Meat. Like--surprise! It's platypus. Next week's pikachu.