Seamus Zelazny Harper (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
bravelyrunaway) wrote in ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png)
wilderlogs2018-05-22 03:14 pm
bravelyrunaway) wrote in wilderlogs2018-05-22 03:14 pm
Entry tags:
Reading Rainbow [open]
Who: Harper and you
What: Harper bumming around the city
Where: Around Philadelphia
When: Over both Day 1 and Day 2
Warnings/Notes: Mention of post-apocalyptic stuff, body horror/parasites, parental death, but all in passing in the narrative. His general opt out can be found here.
A. Sir Sulks-a-Lot
(Note: This is Day 1, right after the little network kerfluffle)
[After the theatrics over the magic mirrors and a firm best friend lecture, Harper feels at least a little bit like a dumbass. Leather Bar guy's lecture about knowledge vs wisdom was pretty familiar, thanks to Rev. And those teenagers pointing out this was a stellar first impression resonated, too.]
[Holy crap, feeling soundly lectured by teenage boys. Oh, how the mighty have fallen. One day you're the lead (read: only) engineer on the crown jewel of the slowly-growing New Commonwealth, the next you're someone that looks like a promising prospect for the group to vote off the island, possibly sending you away via ice floe, tied to a raft, or with a good ol' fashioned cinder block tied to your neck.]
[Bad first impressions are his specialty but they're not exactly great at ingratiating yourself with people you need to rely on to survive. If he actually had some of that wisdom he should've learned to have by now, he'd have remembered that. Because a sudden and alarming thought has occurred to him: he doesn't have anything to barter with. His usual currency - his engineering genius - isn't any good at this here situational establishment. There are no machines here, his tools are mysteriously not working, and this magic he's got is something other people have got, too. Oh sure, there's a weird teleportation thing keeping everyone grouped together, but that's no guarantee of tolerance or being treated well.]
[If he's too much of a bother and doesn't have unparalleled brilliance to offer the group, these people might kill him. Or at the very least, ice him out of things like a fair share of the food. Even worse, they might do the same to Trance if he causes too much trouble, just by association. Harper knows Trance would never trash him for better standing with the group and that's exactly the problem.]
[Harper knows he should go scavenge, or try to ingratiate himself with people, or do something that isn't sulking, but here he is, tossing stones at a busted up water fountain in a little circular park with a road wrapped around it, trying to break off more pieces of the crumbling structure. (A metaphor, perhaps?) He hates this feeling. He feels petty and small like he did every time he was too much of a jerk when his parents were still alive and they took him to task. (Their little hovel had been a pro-jerk but-only-sometimes household.) He also feels helpless and small like he did after they died, when there wasn't a household at all anymore.]
[Except this is situationally worse even if it doesn't feel as bad. Now he's been tossed onto life's metaphorical mean streets again, without most of his crew or a ridiculously extensive network of cousins, and the only people that can vouch for him are Trance and - provided he's not dead - maybe a little kid who he was irresponsible enough to lose in a firefight. The former isn't nothing, because Trance can be very endearing, but he's got pretty much nothing to offer and that's a chilling thought.]
[He knows some things some of the group might not know, like the many and varied forms of textile craft that it takes to keep clothes lasting a year or two longer than they should, but it's not like he knows how to grow penicillin or sew up a sucking chest wound or how to weave a basket. And he's assuming that, just like back home, there have to be plenty of other people here that know how to lie, cheat, and steal equally well. So unless people desperately need someone to darn the crap out of some socks, he might be in trouble.]
And for my next trick, I'll insult everyone's mothers, kick their dogs, and possibly even run for public office. [He declares it to no one in particularly, and doesn't know anyone is close.] Follow my patented fifteen step popularity plan and you too can have the charm and allure of three-week-old protein rations!
[Between his meds no longer working so that his larvae started to perk up and get nibbly, Hohne dying, Harper preparing to die himself to bring Hohne back, the barrow-wight, and dementors and Nazgul and witches (oh my!), the mood hasn't really been whiplashing much these last few days (since everything's been horrible), but the genre, setting, and specifics sure as hell have. Maybe that's why he mucked everything up. When reality chooses a flavor of awful for long enough, he can get used to the taste and keep swilling it down, but this many sudden change ups threw him off his game.]
B. Oprah he is not
(Note: This is Day 2)
[Harper has over thirty books spread out around him in piles and stacks. A few keepers are already tucked into a messenger bag he found while scavenging. Despite the fact he's starting to develop a nasty cough and should probably be scavenging harder for something like, oh, medicine maybe? Here he is, sitting on the cold floor in the pale light of a window, reading as many books as he possibly can while they're still there, knowing he'll only be able to carry a few with him.]
[On first glance (or listen), Harper usually doesn't seem like the kind of person who tries to self-improve in any way, because if he's trying to improve himself, why is he like this? But surprise! This is the improved version. Yes, that's right, kids, he used to be a lot more unpleasant, i.e. meaner, cruder, more immoral, more foul-tempered, and infinitely more ignorant.]
[After his parents' died, after he'd lost their guidance, his only saving grace was his big brain and how hungry it always is. Even after they were gone, alongside stealing and fixing up tech, he was also always still trying to find flexis or books in the ruins. So when he'd finally gotten off-planet, his world had opened up in more ways than one. The second he started to get access to wider selections of media on the drifts, or even better, the digital networks of different planets, he'd used his pay from salvage jobs to buy as many books and flexis as his little bunkspace could fit.
[Later on, when he'd gotten his dataport, it'd gotten a little easier. Data chips took up less space and he started hacking the crap out of everything with his dataport, cutting through paywalls like Magog through a puppy farm, downloading books and tech manuals and holonovels and movies and music to his heart's content. Earth-specific stuff was usually a rare find but the data archives were out there, in obscure places on the various nets or at drift thrift shops. Beautiful archives with ancient books and scanned comics and old janky lowfi non-holo movies with terrible sound.]
[So he may not seem like the type that likes to consume a well-rounded and intellectually, emotionally, and spiritually rigorous array of media but this busted up library is practically making him giddy because he can get can his hands on so much and he doesn't even have to dig or heckle and bargain. That's why his eyes are bigger than his stomach right now.]
[Befitting an engineer, there are multiple titles about aviation and a few about spaceflight because he's dead curious about how people viewed it in the past when just getting up to the moon was huge. The other nonfiction ranges across subjects, but books about Boston and the history of Ireland definitely make an appearance, also Nietzsche; a collection of critical essays, because God oh God does he want to be able to argue with Nietzscheans better about their bullshit life philosophies.]
[The others are maybe a little more surprising, a strange mix of the fantastic and the futurist (for its time, anyway) and the poetic-and-painful-yet-mundane. I Know Why the Caged Bird Sings, To Kill a Mockingbird, The Handmaid's Tale, Fahrenheit 451, Lord of the Rings, A Wrinkle in Time, Beloved, Bury My Heart At Wounded Knee, Lord of Light, Frankenstein, I Robot, Snow Crash, The Grapes of Wrath, the list goes on. He chose some of the books just wanting to see an original he's heard dramatic retellings of, or wanting to see what people in the past dreamed the future of fields like robotics would be. But a common thread between some of the other books isn't impossible to pick up on, a clear inclination towards stories of the oppressed, deprived, and disenfranchised.]
[There's at least a small level of thoughtfulness here, a clear desire to take in new ideas that might seem unusual when paired with someone so brash.]
[...Then he goes and ruins it the second anyone strays too close and looks at his books even a half-second too long. He waves at the not-actually-an-intruder with the emphatic energy of a fruit seller trying to shoo away flies from their wares.]
Dibs. Keep your mitts off, I got to 'em first. Finder's rights.
[It's not that he's particularly cranky or even that he's 100% sure they're trying to steal, but he comes from a universe where people are very grabby with things that don't belong to them, especially if said things "fell off the back of a transport," or got left behind during the fall of civilization. It's nothing personal.]
What: Harper bumming around the city
Where: Around Philadelphia
When: Over both Day 1 and Day 2
Warnings/Notes: Mention of post-apocalyptic stuff, body horror/parasites, parental death, but all in passing in the narrative. His general opt out can be found here.
A. Sir Sulks-a-Lot
(Note: This is Day 1, right after the little network kerfluffle)
[After the theatrics over the magic mirrors and a firm best friend lecture, Harper feels at least a little bit like a dumbass. Leather Bar guy's lecture about knowledge vs wisdom was pretty familiar, thanks to Rev. And those teenagers pointing out this was a stellar first impression resonated, too.]
[Holy crap, feeling soundly lectured by teenage boys. Oh, how the mighty have fallen. One day you're the lead (read: only) engineer on the crown jewel of the slowly-growing New Commonwealth, the next you're someone that looks like a promising prospect for the group to vote off the island, possibly sending you away via ice floe, tied to a raft, or with a good ol' fashioned cinder block tied to your neck.]
[Bad first impressions are his specialty but they're not exactly great at ingratiating yourself with people you need to rely on to survive. If he actually had some of that wisdom he should've learned to have by now, he'd have remembered that. Because a sudden and alarming thought has occurred to him: he doesn't have anything to barter with. His usual currency - his engineering genius - isn't any good at this here situational establishment. There are no machines here, his tools are mysteriously not working, and this magic he's got is something other people have got, too. Oh sure, there's a weird teleportation thing keeping everyone grouped together, but that's no guarantee of tolerance or being treated well.]
[If he's too much of a bother and doesn't have unparalleled brilliance to offer the group, these people might kill him. Or at the very least, ice him out of things like a fair share of the food. Even worse, they might do the same to Trance if he causes too much trouble, just by association. Harper knows Trance would never trash him for better standing with the group and that's exactly the problem.]
[Harper knows he should go scavenge, or try to ingratiate himself with people, or do something that isn't sulking, but here he is, tossing stones at a busted up water fountain in a little circular park with a road wrapped around it, trying to break off more pieces of the crumbling structure. (A metaphor, perhaps?) He hates this feeling. He feels petty and small like he did every time he was too much of a jerk when his parents were still alive and they took him to task. (Their little hovel had been a pro-jerk but-only-sometimes household.) He also feels helpless and small like he did after they died, when there wasn't a household at all anymore.]
[Except this is situationally worse even if it doesn't feel as bad. Now he's been tossed onto life's metaphorical mean streets again, without most of his crew or a ridiculously extensive network of cousins, and the only people that can vouch for him are Trance and - provided he's not dead - maybe a little kid who he was irresponsible enough to lose in a firefight. The former isn't nothing, because Trance can be very endearing, but he's got pretty much nothing to offer and that's a chilling thought.]
[He knows some things some of the group might not know, like the many and varied forms of textile craft that it takes to keep clothes lasting a year or two longer than they should, but it's not like he knows how to grow penicillin or sew up a sucking chest wound or how to weave a basket. And he's assuming that, just like back home, there have to be plenty of other people here that know how to lie, cheat, and steal equally well. So unless people desperately need someone to darn the crap out of some socks, he might be in trouble.]
And for my next trick, I'll insult everyone's mothers, kick their dogs, and possibly even run for public office. [He declares it to no one in particularly, and doesn't know anyone is close.] Follow my patented fifteen step popularity plan and you too can have the charm and allure of three-week-old protein rations!
[Between his meds no longer working so that his larvae started to perk up and get nibbly, Hohne dying, Harper preparing to die himself to bring Hohne back, the barrow-wight, and dementors and Nazgul and witches (oh my!), the mood hasn't really been whiplashing much these last few days (since everything's been horrible), but the genre, setting, and specifics sure as hell have. Maybe that's why he mucked everything up. When reality chooses a flavor of awful for long enough, he can get used to the taste and keep swilling it down, but this many sudden change ups threw him off his game.]
B. Oprah he is not
(Note: This is Day 2)
[Harper has over thirty books spread out around him in piles and stacks. A few keepers are already tucked into a messenger bag he found while scavenging. Despite the fact he's starting to develop a nasty cough and should probably be scavenging harder for something like, oh, medicine maybe? Here he is, sitting on the cold floor in the pale light of a window, reading as many books as he possibly can while they're still there, knowing he'll only be able to carry a few with him.]
[On first glance (or listen), Harper usually doesn't seem like the kind of person who tries to self-improve in any way, because if he's trying to improve himself, why is he like this? But surprise! This is the improved version. Yes, that's right, kids, he used to be a lot more unpleasant, i.e. meaner, cruder, more immoral, more foul-tempered, and infinitely more ignorant.]
[After his parents' died, after he'd lost their guidance, his only saving grace was his big brain and how hungry it always is. Even after they were gone, alongside stealing and fixing up tech, he was also always still trying to find flexis or books in the ruins. So when he'd finally gotten off-planet, his world had opened up in more ways than one. The second he started to get access to wider selections of media on the drifts, or even better, the digital networks of different planets, he'd used his pay from salvage jobs to buy as many books and flexis as his little bunkspace could fit.
[Later on, when he'd gotten his dataport, it'd gotten a little easier. Data chips took up less space and he started hacking the crap out of everything with his dataport, cutting through paywalls like Magog through a puppy farm, downloading books and tech manuals and holonovels and movies and music to his heart's content. Earth-specific stuff was usually a rare find but the data archives were out there, in obscure places on the various nets or at drift thrift shops. Beautiful archives with ancient books and scanned comics and old janky lowfi non-holo movies with terrible sound.]
[So he may not seem like the type that likes to consume a well-rounded and intellectually, emotionally, and spiritually rigorous array of media but this busted up library is practically making him giddy because he can get can his hands on so much and he doesn't even have to dig or heckle and bargain. That's why his eyes are bigger than his stomach right now.]
[Befitting an engineer, there are multiple titles about aviation and a few about spaceflight because he's dead curious about how people viewed it in the past when just getting up to the moon was huge. The other nonfiction ranges across subjects, but books about Boston and the history of Ireland definitely make an appearance, also Nietzsche; a collection of critical essays, because God oh God does he want to be able to argue with Nietzscheans better about their bullshit life philosophies.]
[The others are maybe a little more surprising, a strange mix of the fantastic and the futurist (for its time, anyway) and the poetic-and-painful-yet-mundane. I Know Why the Caged Bird Sings, To Kill a Mockingbird, The Handmaid's Tale, Fahrenheit 451, Lord of the Rings, A Wrinkle in Time, Beloved, Bury My Heart At Wounded Knee, Lord of Light, Frankenstein, I Robot, Snow Crash, The Grapes of Wrath, the list goes on. He chose some of the books just wanting to see an original he's heard dramatic retellings of, or wanting to see what people in the past dreamed the future of fields like robotics would be. But a common thread between some of the other books isn't impossible to pick up on, a clear inclination towards stories of the oppressed, deprived, and disenfranchised.]
[There's at least a small level of thoughtfulness here, a clear desire to take in new ideas that might seem unusual when paired with someone so brash.]
[...Then he goes and ruins it the second anyone strays too close and looks at his books even a half-second too long. He waves at the not-actually-an-intruder with the emphatic energy of a fruit seller trying to shoo away flies from their wares.]
Dibs. Keep your mitts off, I got to 'em first. Finder's rights.
[It's not that he's particularly cranky or even that he's 100% sure they're trying to steal, but he comes from a universe where people are very grabby with things that don't belong to them, especially if said things "fell off the back of a transport," or got left behind during the fall of civilization. It's nothing personal.]
B
It's weird, he thinks as he stumps down an aisle full of books with boring titles like The Grapes of Wrath and Pride and Prejudice. It's weird that for the first time he can't absolutely rely on Winry to fix his automail. It makes him angry. (Really, he's just scared and nervous, but any kind of disquiet with Ed leads to anger.) Why isn't she here, anyway? Why's it just him?
Just him leads him to a spike of anxiety about Al. Al's not here either, and Ed doesn't know how the distance of worlds will hurt their bond.
He needs knowledge. He needs information. He needs to learn how to fix his arm because he sure isn't going to be able to pay for this fix without access to his bank account, and he needs to gut this place for any knowledge of alchemy or science it has.
Glancing at the paper in his hand, he frowns. This organizational system? Confusing. Really confusing. He's not too happy with how hard it is to find what he's looking for—Alchemy and the Alchemists: Giving the Secret of the Philosopher's Stone, the Elixer of Youth, and the Universal Solvent and Mechanics of Materials for Dummies. Things come easy to him.
This? Not easy. He's frustrated. Ed experiences frustration about as well as a toddler in a candy store being told "no." Well, really just about as well as a toddler, at least.
He turns a corner, thinking that this, at last, is the right aisle. Pausing at the head of it, he squints at the spines of the books and—]
That's not how a library works.
[It is, kind of, but if Harper isn't outright cranky, Ed sure is. Scowling and meeting Harper's eyes without blinking, he pulls a book from the shelf. It's not the one he wants. That isn't important.]
A
[A+ social skill, Ange, kicking a guy while he's down. She approaches until she's a respectable distance away, walking over the fissures of the pavement as if she was walking on eggshells]
Does anything of what happened really matter?
[Ange had stayed away from that little incident in the mirrors -- no way she's getting involved in other people's mess -- but she knew enough about what happened to know people had acted...stupidly, in some ways. She hadn't intended to comment what happened with anyone, but there's this guy over here, muttering nonsense and sulking. It'd be pitiable, if she cared about things like pitying people, but if they let him sink further into self-pity, then he'd have a hard time here, and that was unacceptable to her right now.
At least she's trying to help him in some way]
no subject
Fine, I guess I'll just check 'em out with my library card.
[He pretends to swipe an imaginary library passbadge through a scanner.]
[The sarcasm cuts out pretty quickly because now that he's actually looking at him, he notices his hand and the finger and -]
[And then gets interested. The little smug expression fades to one that's instantly fascinated.]
Heeey, you're a cyborg. [He immediately pops to his feet like he's on springs and bends over to get a closer look.] I've got an augment myself.
[He cranes his head so that Ed can see the port on his neck, tucked below and behind his right ear, something that looks like some kind of closed metal socket.]
Re: A
[Which means... him looking out for her like she looked out for him actually mattered. That's kind of nice. With how badly everything else has gone, at least something worked out.]
I looked out for you in the woods but my friend Trance and I could barely see enough even to just make our way through. S'good to see you made it.
[With that out of the way he turns around and chucks the rock that was still in his hand at the fountain, breaking off another piece of it.]
As for that mess, uh, yeah, it matters. Just because fate or destiny or some higher power crammed us together with the magical equivalent of quick-dry epoxy, that doesn't mean anybody has to treat each other well. You cross people the wrong way and who knows what they'll do.
no subject
It'd be embarrassing if I died in the middle of some ambush. I'm not a soldier or anything like that, but I'd like to think I'm anything but vulnerable.
[More like she's lucky sometimes. This gal doesn't have the best track record at staying alive, unfortunately]
Do you really think they're going to do anything to you? Whether they want it or not, we're all stuck in the same place. A couple of these people aren't going to be happy with you for a while, but this isn't some high school filled with catty schoolmates -- there are more important things to worry about than a few arguments in the magic mirror. They'll get over it. So should you.
[If this group is going to sabotage itself by antagonizing Harper for a long time then everyone's more screwed up than Ange expected]
no subject
[Here, people might be from Earth but some of them definitely aren't from his Earth, or his time, he can already tell.]
Kid, I don't know how cushy it is where you're from but where I'm from, my version of Earth ain't exactly what you'd call a friendly place. When they're pushed, when the outside pressure gets bad enough, people have a nasty habit of getting nasty.
[He wings the stone at the fountain and breaks off another chunk.]
Sure, they're all hugs and kisses and 'let's work together' right now, but what we fought was something we could at least run away from. The more we fight things that we can't, that keep coming after us, the harder the choices get, and the harder the choices get, the the worse the people we're stuck with will get.
If we run into problems with things like food - which are chock full of hard choices - guess who'll go hungry first?
[He picks up another rock and wings it in one quick movement. This one is a miss.]
It's definitely not one of the people everyone likes, I'll tell you that much.
[Is it cynical? Yes. Has he been proven right before after being cynical? Also yes.]
no subject
[That...doesn't really help, Ange]
Regardless, you're overthinking everything. People are stupid and spiteful, but self-preservation trumps everything else. If it'll lower their chances of survival, then they'll avoid it. You were brought here to be in this group for a reason, there must be a reason why it couldn't have been anyone else other than you -- if anything happens to you or you can't help as much as everyone else, then they're screwed.
Selfishness has priority over everything else. This is a life or death situation, people will either be selfish or absolute saints. Both are an advantage to you.
[She has absolutely no faith everyone will "cooperate with each other". As she sees it through her dwindling faith in humanity, they'll cooperate because it makes them stay alive and well for as long as possible, and Harper being ostracized won't contribute to their survival]
A
I wonder if there are any copper pipes around here. [ He mutters, stroking his chin with a thoughtful frown. Copper could come in handy. ] Even if there are, getting to them might be a real pain.
[ Oh, right, there's someone else here. ]
Rough day? [ He queries while digging through another small pile of debris and tossing the things that might be useful into a tiny pile next to him. ]
no subject
Dunno what a cyborg is. [He leans closer to peer at the port that Harper's showing him anyway, frowning. He doesn't know the first thing about automail mechanics (except how to break it), but putting automail near someone's brain seems really unsafe to him. If they'd gone at each other a little more, he might have made some snappy comment about brain damage. Instead, remarkably, he passes that opportunity over.] Where I'm from, it's automail, and it mostly just replaces limbs. [And turns limbs into guns, but you know.
And because this guy clearly gets it, he has absolutely no issue tugging up one pant leg to show off that automail, too.] I'm still getting used to how light it is. [He wiggles his foot around.]
B
Look, I just want to check Two Towers and Return of the King.
[ He's done with Fellowship, it's still in his hand. His eyes land on another book. Of course, that one too. ]
And The Hobbit. You can have them back when I'm done? It's not like I need to read them again.
[ He's read them too many times to need to go cover to cover, but he definitely wants to refresh himself. He doesn't see why this guy needs all these books here at once anyway, he can only read so fast. ]
no subject
[He gestures at his dataport with a finger.]
Dataports are usually opt in. They let you connect your brain directly to computer systems so that you can make them sit up and dance.
[He just automatically assumes Ed knows what a computer is.]
So, uh, how's your reaction time? And what's it use for the neural linkup? And what alloy is made of? Looks pretty sturdy.
[He goes over to something piled near his messenger bag and comes back with a little tool pouch. He reattaches it to his belt in case he needs it and grabs Ed's arm without permission, wiggling it a little to see how heavy it is and how the joints articulate.]
An aluminum alloy maybe? Wow, check out that joint articulation.
no subject
Normally, I'd leave you to your book fort? But you're hoarding all of the books on flight.
[The tone of Hiccup's voice indicates that he takes a dim view on people hoarding anything, especially knowledge.]
A
Are you all right sir?
[ The figure shifts his weight, trying to conceal his bandage from the other. ]
no subject
It's fine.
[He's waspish, borderline belligerent. That he hasn't outright snapped yet is actually quite stunning. If this guy were another alchemist, he'd definitely have punched him in the face with a rock fist. Or something.
And then Harper grabs his arm, and Ed, well. There's one of those really quite, serene moments where everything seems fine and Ed seems mostly confused about what's just happened. But those moments are prelude to storms, and Ed is a stormy sort. So he snaps.]
LET GO OF ME! YOU CAN'T JUST GO AROUND GRABBING PEOPLE, YOU KNOW.
[Yanking his arm free and jumping back, he claps his hands together and smacks both against the book shelves to either side. Shelving (not books, thanks, he's not going to destroy that promise of knowledge) become pillars, shooting horizontally between himself and Harper to create a cage-like barrier between them.]
IT'S ALREADY BROKEN. I DON'T NEED YOU TO BREAK IT MORE. WINRY'S GOING TO KILL ME ALREADY.
no subject
[Still, Urahara thinking the same way piques his interest. Maybe he's another engineer or inventor.]
You have no idea. [More like quite a few rough days in a row.] What are you digging around for? Why do you need copper pipes?
no subject
[He piles them up in a little stack and puts them on the floor in front of himself, so Simmons can reach them.]
You can look at them but you have to do it where I can see you so you can't just pinch them and run off.
no subject
[Still, he's a little more predisposed to not being a jerk to Hiccup after his Rev speech, the same way he always felt awkward being rude to Rev Bem himself. There are limits to his bad manners and being rude to a priest or somebody that acts somewhat leaderish (and seems good at it) is where his general aura of rudeness starts to break down.]
[Given the way he took control of the situation, Harper isn't sure if this guy is the leader of the group and a potential new boss. He still hasn't tried to talk to everyone about how it's organized and after the pissing match conversation he feels awkward about doing it right now.]
[So he just quietly and respectfully nudges the stack of books on flight over with his foot so Hiccup can get them.]
You have to at least bring 'em back before we leave. I want to take at least one with me.
no subject
What am I going to do, pawn them to the squirrels for acorns?
[ He does find a spot away from foot-traffic to take a seat, though, and cracks open the faded copy of The Two Towers with evident care. ]
no subject
Thanks. I worked out most of the basic principles before this da Vinci guy did, but I did want to see how I can improve on things.
[Powered flight was still beyond him, though, due to a number of factors. Not the least of which was the wide gulf in technological levels. Hiccup looks through the stack, pulling for something interesting before straightening the books up.]
I'm actually thinking about suggesting everyone grab a few before we go. It'll give us something to do at camp when we're not gathering food or trying to fend off whatever wants to kill us next time.
Re: A
[Some people are good at censoring themselves. Harper, however, doesn't really have many filters. Or any sometimes. And this guy's even taller than Dylan and Tyr.]
Wow, you're huge. Somebody's been eating his veggies.
[Wait, he was asked a question.]
And I'm fine. [He picks up another stone.] Sometimes I'm bad at playing nice with others and sometimes it bites me in the ass, as these things do. And my ass just got thoroughly chomped on.
[Last time he had to ingratiate himself with strangers, it hadn't gone 100% smoothly either. For instance, Rev coming back from a religious retreat and making Harper realize that he'd be chosen to crew with a Magog had been a laugh a minute. He's amazed Beka hadn't kicked him off and left him to fend for himself at the next drift.]
[He catches sight of the bandage.]
Are you okay?
no subject
Holy crap. Calm down, I'm not breaking it, I'm trying to figure out what's it made of and how it works.
[He points to the hand with the missing finger.]
You still got the finger? I might be able to reattach it. I'm an engineer with a pretty solid background in robotics.
no subject
[He draws in a deep breath and then looks over at her, considering something.]
You sound like you have experience with this.
[He's sure that some of these people must come from places where everything is kittens and puppies and magical rainbows but some of them must come from places that are screwed up like him. He's wondering how many of them do.]
no subject
Back where I'm from, these are rare books and most of the digitally stored copies are gone, too. People pass these down in retellings or in little bits and pieces and nobody even has full versions. This might be my only chance to read them.
Do you know how much money private collectors would pay for these back home? So I figure it's gotta be the same in some other people's universes.
[His concept of a normal universe isn't really similar to everyone else's so assumes "terrible" is probably the most common baseline. Therefore he assumes these books are likely to be valuable in other places, too.]
Therefore, I reiterate my dibs, therefore, stay where I can see ya' and you can read it right here.
no subject
[Not subjects he's interested in, per se, but he probably will take a sudden interest as soon as they need the knowledge to survive, same as everyone else. Somebody should grab them probably.]
[But some of what Hiccup said catches his interest more than the books.]
You worked out the basic principles of flight before reading Da Vinci or before Da Vinci?
[He just wants to make sure he heard that right.]
no subject
[Still not helping, Ange]
...I guess it does work because here comes advice for you: if you're so afraid of anything like that happening, then you should consider taking measures to counter it. I don't think we'll find lots of food that isn't perishable, but if we do, then try to save some. Have your own stash. It'll be a burden to carry, but it'll keep you alive.
It's all about being prepared.
[She's sure nobody will make Harper be the first one to suffer when things get tough, but it wouldn't hurt to have some food for yourself anyway]
...you could say I do, although it was less self-preservation and more about they obtaining what they wanted. I'm used to being a chess piece for people to play with -- it's what happens when you're the last heiress of your family and you want nothing of what it comes with.
It's the kind of life that shows you how selfish people can be.
[Not that Ange is any less selfish than the rest of them. She has her own goals, but...yeah, she's way too often a cog more in some people's plans]
no subject
[Hiccup had taken the opportunity to flip through a couple of encyclopedias beforehand. They hadn't gone as in depth as he'd like, which is what brought him to Harper in the first place.]
Admittedly, I kind of cheated. As far as I can tell da Vinci didn't have a dragon to ride on.
Re: A
[ He smiles after a moment, trying to indicate he is joking ]
I endure. I don't... think without surgery I will last forever, however. I probably have one good fight left in me. I'm trying to make sure it is a worthy one.
no subject
You don't have The Lord of the Rings?
[ There's a note of real, earnest incredulity. ]
A
[Cassie plops down on the edge of the fountain, close enough for conversation but not so close as to impinge on a personal space bubble. Hey look, Harper, it's the tiny blond who'd been looking for her own black haired, blue eyed boys in the fight. At least she sounds more like she's being playful rather than genuinely threatening him?]
And trust me, you do not want us to throw down. I once slammed a boy face first into the floor for suggesting that he could take me in a fight, and I had a crush on him.
[She plants her hands behind her and leans back, giving him a bit more space, and raising her eyebrows.
So what's your actual plan now?