Agent York | Taylor Murray (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
goddamngrenades) wrote in ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png)
legionworld2017-05-27 01:25 am
goddamngrenades) wrote in legionworld2017-05-27 01:25 am
Entry tags:
[ OPEN ] Just like that Highschool Class about childcare.
Who| York, Delta, and YOU! (special guest star: egg)
What| Knocking around Legion World, carting about a mysterious egg.
Where| Observation Deck, Mess, Training Rooms
When| After THATH/OM/GOU
Warnings/Notes| N/A
(A) - Observation Deck
All this calm quiet is oppressive on occasion- too familiar to the absolute nothing that he can distantly recall with a chill down his spine when things are too still. Too dark. But after long days full of people and noise and life? When he's almost overworked and overstimulated, all but vibrating out of his skin? It's soothing. As long as he doesn't stare too much. Today between monitor duty and Flight Ring training and his own programs running around in the back of his mind he needs that quiet space. His most recent meeting with Dr. Ry'kerr's left him with a lot to think about and a small package he's been told to keep warm.
So.
Sitting in the middle of all this quiet with a handheld heater wrapped in a green scarf as he contemplates both the stars and the strange football sized egg now in his care. Delta perches on his shoulder, running through a few encryption puzzles.
(B) - Mess Hall
Vague countdowns with indefinite deadlines are the worst. Not knowing when or how this thing'll hatch is killing York- but not so much that he'll obsess with research too much. He carries both the wrapped egg and Delta to grab lunch, minding it with one hand while poking through a catalog of cybernetic eyes. Medical tech being what it is he could just get a new one grown or...something? He's not familiar enough and the idea gives him an odd sense of vertigo he thinks about it too hard. Something that'll let him see without trying to be his? That's easier to hold onto. D offers his two cents here and there between dissecting a platter of fruit for York's perusal, nudging his hand away from the things that are probably some kind of caustic.
(C) - Training Room
Delta's in charge of keeping the temperature even around the egg, sitting next to it, not on it, despite York's promising that the egg can probably take it and that it'd be damn cute. York focuses on range time. It's not entirely unlike the leaderboard drills for speed and accuracy at close, mid, and long range. He alternates between his charged, thrown marbles, handguns, shotguns, and a stun variant of a battle rifle that has the right weight and kick to it. Running these numbers against Delta's on board backups of his scores when he had both eyes and just comparing the two.
Gathering data, more or less. Trying to make up his mind.
What| Knocking around Legion World, carting about a mysterious egg.
Where| Observation Deck, Mess, Training Rooms
When| After THATH/OM/GOU
Warnings/Notes| N/A
(A) - Observation Deck
All this calm quiet is oppressive on occasion- too familiar to the absolute nothing that he can distantly recall with a chill down his spine when things are too still. Too dark. But after long days full of people and noise and life? When he's almost overworked and overstimulated, all but vibrating out of his skin? It's soothing. As long as he doesn't stare too much. Today between monitor duty and Flight Ring training and his own programs running around in the back of his mind he needs that quiet space. His most recent meeting with Dr. Ry'kerr's left him with a lot to think about and a small package he's been told to keep warm.
So.
Sitting in the middle of all this quiet with a handheld heater wrapped in a green scarf as he contemplates both the stars and the strange football sized egg now in his care. Delta perches on his shoulder, running through a few encryption puzzles.
(B) - Mess Hall
Vague countdowns with indefinite deadlines are the worst. Not knowing when or how this thing'll hatch is killing York- but not so much that he'll obsess with research too much. He carries both the wrapped egg and Delta to grab lunch, minding it with one hand while poking through a catalog of cybernetic eyes. Medical tech being what it is he could just get a new one grown or...something? He's not familiar enough and the idea gives him an odd sense of vertigo he thinks about it too hard. Something that'll let him see without trying to be his? That's easier to hold onto. D offers his two cents here and there between dissecting a platter of fruit for York's perusal, nudging his hand away from the things that are probably some kind of caustic.
(C) - Training Room
Delta's in charge of keeping the temperature even around the egg, sitting next to it, not on it, despite York's promising that the egg can probably take it and that it'd be damn cute. York focuses on range time. It's not entirely unlike the leaderboard drills for speed and accuracy at close, mid, and long range. He alternates between his charged, thrown marbles, handguns, shotguns, and a stun variant of a battle rifle that has the right weight and kick to it. Running these numbers against Delta's on board backups of his scores when he had both eyes and just comparing the two.
Gathering data, more or less. Trying to make up his mind.
no subject
He waves a dismissive hand at the scoreboard. It doesn't count if he competes against himself. "But...maybe a small one won't hurt."
no subject
"Bragging rights only?"
no subject
no subject
But bragging rights, well ... if he's up for it she's up for it. "Shall we say, best out of ten?"
no subject
Not the best way to build up a good team rapport. "I like how shit's done here more. Everyone's treated the same even if we fuck up." A beat. "Sure. Mid to close range? Anything further and the eye becomes a problem."
no subject
"If precision at a distance is a concern, you could always look into something with splash damage, but for now; we can go for short range for now?"
no subject
It feels like being naked and a little more honest than usual all the same. "Stationary or moving targets? I'm good with either."
no subject
"Please. Moving targets. We're not in kindergarten anymore."
no subject
no subject
"I'm not much of a soldier if I can't fire straight off the cuff." She's got confidence, for sure. The training he cues up is familiar enough, and she readies her firearm. "Waiting for your cue."
no subject
Three, four seconds and one blips into being, curving in a smooth arc at a leisurely pace about halfway down the range.