oasismods | JANUARY TEST DRIVE MEME

JANUARY TEST DRIVE MEME

"-̭̫̜̩̪̑̈́̓̌̐-̞͓̘̩͖̿́͒͑͘░͙͈̥̦̼̌̊̒̾̅░̨̢̠͙̖̉͊̽͌͝░̫͔͎̤̘̀̑͋͛̾ȩ̨̬̙͛̐̋̀̕͜m̻̬͈̠͒̌͌̍͌͜ ̡̲͈̙̼̽̾͆̊̃f̖̟͉̲̪̈́̾̀̂̀ą̢̯̘̙́̇͑̈̋i̪̱̙̘̟͌́̄̊͘ļ̢̛̲͕̣͐̎̿͛u͕̣̥̘̳̓̃͗͠͝r͉̠̗͖̰̉̅͗̚͘ę̛̺̥̝̘̄͑̌̈́.̣̫͕̰̭̓͂̈́̓͊ ̟̗͔̟͋̿̒̚̚ͅA̠̫̬̼̣̒̇͛́̊l̫̬͎̤͈͑̀͂̐̆ë̡̧̝̺͖́̍̂͂͝r͙͍̱̫͕̆͊̾͐̕ţ͙̻̣̝͒́̄̈́͆!͕̫͓͉̹̌̍̽̂̓ ̧̛̲͎͖̳̌̆̾̏░͖̲̞̼̹̇̄̌̈́̊░̡͍͎͍̘̇̈́̕͝░̪͚̼̦̃̋͊̆͜͠è̛̞̬͙̠̖̊͌̂m͖̝̟̗̣̽̄̐̚͠ ̛̹̯͈̮̼̈́͊͌͠f̧̰̖͋̊̈̊̑͜͜ą̨͚͎̹̀̎̑͋́i̞̬͓̭̳̎́̓͘͠l̢͈̲͇͕̈́̆̐̌̈́ư̰̞͚̻̺̔͑̓̑ṛ͎̯͚̇̔̾̔̏͜ę̛̻̼̭͊͆̕͜͝.̯̖̫̣͔̔̋̔̽͠ ̺̼̟̲͌́͒̔̅ͅĄ̹̝̖̺̂̇̽̒͊ĺ̛̺̰̰̤͎̾͗͝e̛̗̭̻͕̹̓̔͆̆r̢̛͙͖̘̻̈̚̚͘t̰̲̠̖̻̉͂̆̓̇!̬̞̟͉̺̂͆̊͑͐"

You awaken to godawful static overlaying a female voice that's too monotone to be anything but a recording. The static makes it difficult to understand the warning, but it's clearly a warning if your surroundings tell you anything...

You're buckled into a sturdy seat bolted to the wall behind you. Around you, there are dozens of others like you, some awake and others still unconscious, but it seems most of the seats lining the walls are occupied. The lights are dim, likely auxiliary lighting, leaving you mostly in the dark. You smell smoke and hear the sizzling crackle of electrical systems popping and shorting out. Some of the seats were jarred off the wall, leaving the occupants either wounded or dead. Count yourself lucky all you have is a headache and various aches accounted to whiplash.

You appear to be in a drop ship or an escape vessel of some form but the pilot is dead and the hull bears a massive gash where it buckled under the impact and sheered off. Through the door-sized opening, you can see vegetation. The air that wafts in is heavy with a humid heat, but it's obviously breathable.

Once you make your way outside, you'll see greenery: Trees, grass, and shrubs tangled with vines that grow wildly and suffocate the trees they climb. In the distance, behind the ship, you can make out a sandy desert that seems to stretch on endlessly. Forward through the trees, however, you may see a crumbling wall, but more importantly, you'll see signs of civilisation. Buildings and other structures seem contained within those decrepit walls. Maybe the natives can fill you in on what's going on, because the last thing you remember isn't being in an escape shuttle. As a matter of fact, you don't remember much about your arrival or where you are. But it's going to be a bit of a hike, better get moving. Though you might want to grab the backpack of supplies under your seat before you go.

"W̞͓̝͓̓̀̍̒͘͜ȃ̢̗̪̤͇̔̃̚͝░̟͙̯̳̱̈͂̈́̈́͠n̬̘̬̤̠͛̅̈́͋͝i͓̟͈͎͙̐̆̈́̔̓n̡̟̤̟̤̑͐͋͐̚g̩̱͖͉̻͌͛̈͆̈́!̧̪̰͇̦̓̂̆̌͝ ̢͔̣̠̗̾̉́̌̒C̢̥̟͍͊͊͑̀̚ͅr̛͙̪̙̟͐̽̓̅͜i̫͖̻̣̘̽̑͂̾̎t̩͇̦̬̞͊̌̑̈́͝i̡̳̠̞̐̿̍̎̀͜c̡͕͙͕͕̓̊̌̾͘å̼̯͍̙̲̍̏̚͝l̢̥͉̮̙̋̆͐̆́ ̢̰̞͕̯̋̈́̈́̋͌f͇͔̟̻̈̽͌̒̉ͅa̳̰̠͉͔͒̑̈̈͘i̟̭̦̺͎̍̾̽̈́̐░͕̣̥̭͛̿̓̽̐ͅ░̰̪̠͇͍̆͛̀͝͝░̘̱̩̳̘͆̈́̆̀̚e̛̻͈̳̳̺̊̔̚̕.͙̟̳̼̾̀̅͊͊ͅ"

With that, the power dies, leaving the drop ship in the dark, crackling and groaning as the hull cools from its catastrophic re-entry.

[MOD NOTES: TDM threads may be used as game canon.]

Threaded | Top-Level Comments Only

Fuck your sorry.

[Daryl's lip curled. He didn't need pity for living. Life was hard, but it wasn't all bad. He didn't even bother commenting on the rest of it. He had his group to gather and discuss where they were going from there.

Daryl walked off, muttering to himself.]

[ Thomas coming to his rescue happened too fast for him to really process and yet it still felt like it was in slow motion. He can't bring his dark brown eyes away from the body that Thomas had brutally maimed for its offense. ] Shit. [ Jesus Christ. What the fuck. Maybe Thomas was getting fed up of saving his ass from cranks, Newt wouldn't blame him. One of these times Thomas wouldn't be there. The blond wonders if he'll be able to take one if it gets the jump on him like that one had.

He sees the almost movement in Thomas's muscles but then he looks down at his hands, and Newt follows his gaze, and oh. Both gross and worrisome, honestly. ] Yeah, thanks, Tommy. Uh - No, I don't think it scratched or bit me. Drooled all over me. Breathing kind of comes with the territory of bein' alive though. [ What kinda shuck question is that? Was he not supposed to breathe? He understood the fist line of questioning, but not that one.

Moving to sit up, he pulls his backpack off his shoulders and into his lap, fishing out his water bottle, and without giving Thomas time to really complain, Newt moves closer to spill some of his water onto Thomas's hands to help wash them off. ] After Winston, we don't know who's immune to this stuff and who's not, or how we get it, and I'll be shucked if I'm losin' ya. I don't know if we're wrong, or we're right with what we remember, so let's just both play it safe. [ Being alone in this situation without the others, without Minho, Tommy, Alby... Any of the Gladers alive or lost. It's a sickening thought.

Hell, even that Aris kid might make him feel a bit more comfortable... No, probably not. His gaze finds the dead body again, and lingers, and he can't help the words that spill past his lips, knowing Minho spoke similar ones about being in Wicked's clutches. ] I hope that never happens to me. I won't let it. [ Okay, so Minho had basically asked Thomas to make sure that nothing Wicked-y ever happened to him; this isn't that, this is Newt saying he'll figure something out. A bullet to the brain, probably.

A pause. ]

And if ya run in to Teresa, don't trust her, I know she was your girlfriend, but we all trusted her and it got us in a load of trouble. [ He knows the other boy probably doesn't want to hear that, so his gaze falls to the lid that he's screwing back onto his water bottle. Then his expression shifts, and he look sad, almost unbearably so. Not only might he never see Minho again, but there's another question bugging him. ] That shucking thing that tried to make you stab Minho, ya think I've got one? Do ya think it's made me do stuff? [ This isn't the time or place for this, but he's gotta ask, and that's obvious with the way his eyes seek Thomas's. These are all his feelings right? Everything he's felt? ]

Edited 2016-02-15 01:07 (UTC)

"Shucky. Uglier than a spit-roasted hog," Newt elaborated but there was an odd fondness to his tone that said he didn't mean it, not really, his attention was drawn to another one of the bodies, this time a female, but it wasn't Maggie, this one had dark black hair as far as he could tell.

The sudden question on his own well-being drew the blond's gaze back to Glenn. "Yeah, I'm fine." But that seems to mean a lot more to him than the simplicity of the question. In his world, most people were out for his own skin. This Greenie could very well have fit in as a Glader it seemed. Concern was rare, and it was a good trait in someone, no matter how dangerous it was for that person. Newt wasn't even aware that Glenn was having similar thoughts in regard to his own concern. That's just who Newt was, if he could help, he would or he'd at least try.

"I don't mean the cranks, I mean, gettin' on this ship or where ya were headin'? Were ya in the Scorch?" It was like Newt was a few steps ahead of Glenn, because with his own questions he began walking towards one of the occupied seat, someone with longer hair. But when he turned the light to them, it turned out to be a deceased male. "Do ya remember Wicked gettin' you?" Newt doubts this guy is WCKD, but then, Tommy was apparently WCKD. They apparently hired 'em young.

"I can't remember anything about how I ended up on this place, which isn't bloody surprising with Wicked."

[His hair is not poofy, it's pefectly coiffed thank you very much.

When Minho sees movement in the treeline he freezes, taking a defensive stance and reaching for the piece of metal that's serving him as a weapon. He'll have to sharpen it, if he can, but for now it will do a good job at bashing in heads. He has no idea if this place has Cranks, but he's willing to bet that it does and he sure as hell isn't going to let his guard down on a chance. But it's Thomas who breaks into the clearing, and Minho can't help but chuckle and shake his head.]

Couldn't have you running off into trouble without me. [Like he had a choice coming here. He shoves Thomas back, swinging his makeshift weapon back over his shoulder and into his pack.] Where the shuck are we? Not another Maze, I hope.

[Running is familiar to the point of being soothing now, and Minho is feeling a lot calmer as they approach the city. Running away from danger with Thomas by his side is getting to be the only sense of normalcy he has anymore, and maybe that's why he'd hated the Scorch so much. They'd been apart for the majority of it, but he'd still had Newt and the others.

Newt. He can see him standing at the gate and waiting, tall and blond and skinny as anything. It's a familiar sight from all those days spent running the Maze only to return to the Glade and the watchful eye of his oldest friend. Something about the tension of his stance makes Minho slow down before Thomas, which is a good thing since his friend is suddenly receiving a beating. But Newt probably has a good reason, so Minho just stands back and watches while biting down laughter.

The soft smile is familiar, but something in Newt's eyes look sad and it makes him hesitate to go in for the hug that Newt fails to initiate. He's seen sadness in Newt's eyes before, no matter how hard he tries to hide it, and Minho doesn't always say something but he's aware it's there. He'd seen that look once and ignored it, probably when Newt needed to be seen and comforted more than ever. That's why, even when Newt retreats, Minho doesn't wait long before going to look for him.

The greeting is flat and sounds like something Newt might say to anyone. Minho isn't just anyone. He swats Newt's hand away from his mouth since it's a bad habit and he knows Newt is hiding behind it.]

What's wrong with you?

[Being a blunt asshole never hurt either, right?]

[ A frown finds his mouth to make up for the inability to bite at his nails, hand falling to his side. Ah, there's the blunt asshole he knows and adores on most occasions. Really, Newt's somewhat glad they're talking, he'd wanted to at least say something more to him, but Thomas lurking there made him clam up. Now that there are no children present, he guesses the adults can talk. The blond wets his lips while he tries to pick out the right words. ]

I thought I wasn't going to see you again. When we got separated. I didn't know what to do, I thought that was it.

[ He gave up. He'd already started mourning. They'd lost Nick, Alby, and then when Minho got taken, he'd just accepted he was gone. Resigned himself to it. Dark eyes stay on him despite looking like he wants to look anywhere but at Minho. It's like a trainwreck, he can't bear to watch to see if there's disappointment or judgement from Minho and yet, he keeps watching; he needs to watch.

But then something else seems to flash across his expression, and he opens his mouth before closing it again with an audible click of his teeth. The hand that had been swatted away to his side moved to rub at the back of his neck, under blond hair.

Whether or not Minho has one of those tattoos on his neck is something Newt both really wants to know and really doesn't at the same time. If he's the odd-man-out, what's wrong with him? If it's Thomas then what's wrong with Thomas? ]

You wouldn't have given up on me. [ Everything had just felt impossible. ]

[Minho loved Thomas, most of the time, but he changed the dynamic between himself and Newt. With a third friend who was just as stubborn as them and twice as vocal about it, it was easy to get swept up in one of the many mysteries that Thomas needed to solve. But when it was just Newt, Minho felt he could be a little more real, more himself than just the brave face he'd put on ever since Thomas had arrived and everything had started changing. Now that they're alone, he feels more comfortable calling Newt out on his strange behavior.]

I know we've known each other our whole memorable lives, but you can manage without me for a day. WICKED won't let us stay apart too long, and like shuck I'm dying.

[Newt's being strange, clingier than he'd ever been while they were in the Maze and Runners were going out into the Maze every day. Minho had been locked in that Maze for a night, even, and Newt hadn't seemed so... sad. If anything, he'd been pissed and worried. This is totally different.]

You're not making any goddamned sense. I thought maybe we'd lose time between Trials, but you're acting like I've been gone longer than that.

[ he's grinning so wide it's practically splitting his face, but there's just such an overwhelming relief to see his best friend here and safe. not strapped into to WICKED lab, or tossed back into the Scorch, or whatever else they would've done to them, if they hadn't made it through the Flat Trans. ]

Nah. Just a crank jungle. [ well, they aren't really cranks. ] Sort of.

[ it's a long story, and there's something he needs to know first. ] Hey, don't freak on me, but I gotta check something, okay? [ said with hands raised, pacifying, before he reaches for the back of Minho's shirt, tugging it down to look for the WICKED tattoo they'd all been branded with, before being sent out into the Scorch. And, yep, there it is. so this is his Minho, and thomas lets out a sigh of relief. ] Thank shuck.

[ that's the other long story. newt. not that he isn't more than happy to see him here, but... it's complicated. it's really complicated. ] What's the last thing you remember, before the dropship?

The explanation of the word which confused him made him want to laugh, but he held it back in favor of a small. "I'll keep that in mind." Glenn had picked up the undertone, the fondness there. His flash light fell over the form of a woman, and - no, it wasn't his wife. He let out a breath he'd not realized he'd been holding.

When he was told that his current companion was fine, he'd given a nod and didn't press further. Still, if it came down to it - he would give Newt a hand if he could; he'd keep his eye out for him, too. That's just how it worked. He went back to his inspections of those still in the seat, heart jumping in to his throat now and again when someone seemed a high possibility to be revealed as Maggie. Glenn was torn on his thoughts of finding her there. To see her, know that she was there with him? That would be good. But, if she were safer elsewhere? That would be even better. Her well-being was the most important thing. More important than her being with him. Still, he didn't want to leave her there if she happened to have gotten on the ship - however they did - too.

"Cranks?" He heard himself ask, pulled back to the moment by Newt's words. The confusion was clear on his face. And the more Newt talked, the more that Glenn's expression became mystified. "Hold on, hold on - Wicked? What's that? And no, I just remember... I was in the woods, and then I was here. This is a really far cry from everything for months, man. But, yeah. Dude, what's Wicked, and what's the Scorch?" His flashlight was on the guy he was speaking to, but he wasn't rude with the beam of it. Glenn closed the distance between them, his curiosity showing on his face.

[ There's confusion, then hurt - that flashes over his face and is quickly shoved behind a fake look of apathy - before a flicker of... fear? He should probably tell Minho to stop being a shuckface. He should probably deny something, anything that Minho's said. Sure, the stuff he's saying is important but -- ]

Turn around.

[ He doesn't give Minho a chance to question him before he's manhandling him a bit to turn him around and try to get to the back of his neck, tugging at the back of his shirt, sorry, Tommy's probably done this already but... what he sees makes his stomach sink.

He's the weird one, not Thomas. It's a relief, but it's also not. From what he's heard from Thomas, the differences from what he remembers. It also means that he's the freak. Maybe none of it was real. Maybe he was jacked in the head...

Does he lie? Does he tell the truth? ]

My head's messed up, I think I hit it during the crash. [ The words pour out before he can even think not to say them. ] I'm just having trouble remembering things clearly. [ Maybe??? He doesn't know... Is it even really a lie?]

Sort of a jungle or sort of Cranks? [There's an important difference, because he can deal with Cranks alright but he's not too excited about a different kind of that he has to learn to fight all over again. Then again, maybe he'll get lucky and these ones are easier to deal with, but he's not about to hold his breath. If it's got to do with the Flare, they're shucked; if it's got to do with WICKED, they're shucked.

He doesn't protest even though he has no idea why Thomas is interested in seeing that goddamned tattoo. Maybe it's just his way to make sure that Minho is really who he's saying he is. Still, once Thomas is done Minho raises a questioning eyebrow at him.] Like what you see?

[His playful expression melts into one of confusion, eyes narrowing.] Falling asleep on the Berg after the Scorch. Why, they playing mindtricks again?

[As stunted as his own emotions may appear to be, he's observant enough to see all of the ones Newt cycles through. The one that hurts the most, though, is fear. In their years together, of all the scary things they've been through, Minho can't remember ever seeing that expression turned on him.

He takes a step back, knowing what Newt is looking for but not why. Thomas had done the same thing when they'd run into each other in the jungle, but he'd chalked that up to nerves about whether Minho was really himself. Newt should know who he is, but he gives in when he gets wrestled around.]

It's there, Newt, goddammit. Why's everyone checking for that shucking tattoo?

[The words hit and he tenses, thoughts flashing through his mind of all the things those WICKED bastards could have done to him. More memories erased? Or maybe replaced with false ones this time?

He retakes the step he'd made earlier, this time towards Newt.] Those shuckfaced idiots probably messed you up, the way they did Theresa. But as long as you're not trying to kill us, it doesn't matter. [He gives Newt a gentle punch in the arm.] You're still Newt, right? They've jacked up our heads before, but at least you're still you.

[ Brown eyes watch Minho try to process everything, they watch the hurt that passes over his face and the confusion, he looks like he's mentally running a race trying to catch up with what he's missing. Of course he is, Minho's smarter than him, maybe he can figure it out. ]

Because.

[ Minho takes a step towards him and he can't help but freeze, swallowing hard before allowing his oldest friend to try to reassure him. ] I'm not so buggin' sure about that any more. [ Newt wets his lips before turning around and doing his best to tug his own shirt collar down for Minho - no tattoo - nothing, just pale skin. He gives it a moment for Minho to allow what he's seeing to sink in before turning back around to him. ]

I don't know what's goin' on anymore. Everything I remember is different from what Tommy remembers. I don't have one of those marks - I don't remember ever havin' one. There's something invisible there instead that says I'm their property but it's hidden. I think, at least. [ This is probably the most he's said to anyone since they've landed in this stupid jungle.

It scares him, all the different information Thomas has given him, and he's trying so hard not to be scared by it. ] I remember being in the maze with you. I remember Alby. [ Something in his tone sharpens a bit, like it's still raw at the thought of Alby. ] and Chuck... [ And all of the other boys that he couldn't help save. ] Tommy said they can control us, what if I'm -- [ A variable to mess them up? To hurt them? ]

I don't know, Minho. All I know is I'm bloody scared and Tommy - the shuckface - keeps lookin' at me like I don't belong when he thinks I don't notice.

[ He's never this open with his problems, normally he prefers to bottle them up and deal with them in silence, or ignore them until they go away. But he needs someone to look at him like he's still him, and the guilt that's wrapped around his heart due to Minho having been taken, well, it's still settled heavy. Even if the memories are false. He needs to feel like there's at least someone on his side. Sure, Thomas protects him, but it's different. ]

Edited (more feels sry) 2016-02-20 07:26 (UTC)

[ Pure panic wells up in his when Thomas starts manhandling him to get his sights on where his tattoo should be but he doesn't fight back, not even weakly. Thomas sounds as frustrated, confused and scared as he's beginning to feel.

Who the hell are you?

The question makes Newt's throat go dry, as dry as it had been in the Scorch. Finally, hands shoves Thomas's away not liking the accusation. ]

Who the hell am I? You're the one with the bloody new personality, new tattoo, new scars, new memories. [ He wants to raise his voice, match Thomas's aggression, but he doesn't, instead, his lowers, not into a threat but instead into something more placating. ] We met in the maze, you didn't like when I called you Greenie, you didn't like anyone callin' ya Greenie.

[ A pause. ]

We ran into the Scorch because we were followin' you. You said they were gonna hook us up to machines and drain us of our blood. For the cure. I remember those things - the cranks - they got Winston, how could I forget that, Tommy? I remember the lightning storm, and Minho getting struck. I remember finding you, we thought you were dead, I remember Jorge, Brenda.

I also remember the cure helping her. Tommy she was gonna die, she got bit, then later she was up and running around. You gave blood to save her. So the whole "no cure" klunk you're talking about is just that - klunk.

[ His hand raises again, this time not to shove Thomas away, but to rest his arm on his shoulder an attempt at grounding at least one of them, though he isn't sure which one of them. ]

Let me clean that and patch it up, then you can keep accusing me.

[Minho is a lot of things, but smarter than Newt? Maybe with certain things, but not when it came to dealing with people. Newt was always the one that knew what to say to people to make things seem better, or put them in their place, or whatever they might have needed at the time. Minho could memorize Maze routes and come up with attack plans, but he was an idiot when it came to people. His inspiring speeches were proof enough of that.

When he sees the expanse of pale skin, he frowns and reaches out to brush his fingers over it like maybe he'll uncover the ink that should have been there. It plants a seed of doubt, just a tiny one, but enough to make his stomach clench.]

They took us. [He said it as a fact, because he remembers it and because that has to be something WICKED would do no matter what other memories might be different.] I don't remember what happened between there and here, but it wouldn't be hard for them to change you, right? They gave us these tattoos without us even knowing it or feeling it. They could take them away. They could shuck with your head.

[He's trying to explain it for Newt's benefit as much as his own, because the thought of Newt somehow not being Newt, not being his Newt, was hard to stomach. If he was something sent to hurt them, Minho would find a way to fix him and hurt WICKED a hundred times over. They'd done it with Theresa, but maybe she wasn't enough, maybe breaking Thomas' heart hadn't been the end of it.

All the possibilities are filling up his head, but he focuses back in on Newt when he starts talking about Thomas.] Next time he does, you punch the look right off his ugly face. Even if they did something to you, you're Newt. [An unspoken "I'm not giving up on you" fills his words. Maybe he'd been sent to trip them up, or was somehow different, but he was still Newt and Minho wasn't going to throw that aside for "maybe."]

Thomas... he hasn't known us as long. Sometimes he doesn't get it. [The bond that builds between people forced together in the shittiest of conditions and told to survive together. Thomas called them his friends, but he barely knew them. True, he didn't know anything else, but it wasn't the same. It didn't take as much to make him distrust Newt as it would for Minho. He wasn't about to call Newt a hopeless case until he was holding a knife to his throat.]

ACTION;

[ Prince (King now?) Roan of Azgeda woke to flashing lights and blaring alarms, foreign to all of it, having only glimpsed things like this when he skirted the edges of Skaikru camps, and that's where his mind goes - Arkadia and their ilk. Those still so angry with the Ice Nation for his mother's terrorism, and given the only one of them that knows him, and knows he isn't so thirsty for their death, is Clarke. And Clarke is not here.

Quickly as he can, the grounder launches from his belted seat, grabs his pack, and flees, regardless of others landed with him. It's some time later that he returns, moving through tree branches in silence, and he spents hours watching the camp, waiting for movement, for a scouting group to check their supplies, their prey, whatever he was meant to be. after none so, he salvages. wires to bind with, belting, a knife from a pack left behind, jagged shards of twisted metal. his swords are gone, but royalty in Azgeda is not pampered. If anything, he's been made to endure more of the harshness of the wilds, and spent plenty of his life in banishment learning how to make somethings out of nothings.

Some time later, Roan waits in the trees not far from the Skaikru city, watching the others mill around, observing. Learning. Listening, to the chatter in the earpiece he was left. He'll speak eventually, but not yet. Not now.

Instead, he hears the cracking of leaves and twigs beneath him, spotting one of those things - like Beserkers, but rotted. Disgusting. He'd killed several already, turned the corpses over and examined them, before leaving. The one below stalks in a gross hobble, after something else.

One of the city people.

He watches, for a long moment, doing nothing, until it gets close enough that a couple running steps and a lunge would see the stranger dead. Roan considers letting it happens. Thinks he ought to, rather than give himself up here. But he still finds himself jumping down, the tie from the tree slowing his fall and making it silent, so all that's heard is the wet thunk of the end of a spear being shoved through the back of the abomination's skull. Roan drags it to the ground with a jerk of the wooden end, boot pressed to the back of it's neck as he pulls his weapon free, bits of skull and brain matter sticking to it grossly. ]

You tell your people nothing of me, or you end up the same.

[ he hasn't glanced up at them yet, but the warning is given quickly and quietly, in case this one came out with a partner. ]

NETWORK PROMPT (AUDIO OBV);

Wanheda.

[ the voice comes gravely and deep over the comms, the kind of thing that sounds more growl than voice. there's a pause, and he breathes out, adding. ]

Clarke kom Skaikru. I speak to her and her alone.

[ He'd arrived here in a shuttle, strapped up in all it's metal while it's circuitry fried around him, and only one thing made sense with that - the sky people. the sky people who are hardly friendly with either Trikru or Azgeda. If Arkadia is the only resource for him to use right now, the only way he'll get to any answers is if Clarke vouches for him.

Here's hoping his recently willingness to help has won him some points. ]

Don't bother trying to find me without her. You won't.

[ Having to live among Trikru during his banishment has taught him some things about navigating trees. Don't expect to see him. ]

Edited 2016-02-22 04:09 (UTC)

[ Oh, that's a voice that Lexa recognises. ]

Ai laik Heda; yu na tel ai op, Roan kom Azgeda. Clarke is not here.

[ I am the Commander; you will talk to me, Roan of Ice Nation.

Does she sound bitter? A little... Okay, a lot. #LadyOfManyWords. But she's been searching for just about anyone, and this is who she finds? ]

Heda.

[ he hadn't been expecting that. not hearing her over Skaikru tech. maybe it means the alliance holds, and the coalition moves together. then why the hell was he dropped in a skaikru shuttle?

the rest is spoken in Trigedasleng, because he's paranoid. ]

Does Azgeda hold it's chair in the coalition, or did you make me King only to hold me prisoner again?

What of Wanheda?

[ If she had the answer, she'd give it to him, but alas. ]

You are not my prisoner. I did not arrange any of this. If it is an attack, it is an attack on both of us. Do you stay true to the Coalition?

[ Aka bro u gonna betray me or??? ]

Wanheda is missing. This looks like Sky People technology but the few I've met have been just as confused as us.

[ thank fuck. he's tired of getting the shit end of the stick from basically everyone. ]

I stand with the clans.

[ azgeda may have a shit fit about it, but azgeda will ultimately follow it's king. ]

Left for her people, maybe. Wanheda does as Wanheda pleases. [ maybe spoken with some humor. that girl knows how to get what she wants. ] The ones in the city. Do they ally with us?

[ Wanheda needs to stop. ]

Many of them wish to. But they are weak, more trouble than they are worth.

The "leader" [ Note her tone. ] is more interested in what I may offer them for their survival.

There are others. The Plagued - I thought they were Reapers but they're not. And another group, that do not live in the forest or the city but attempt to invade it. They attacked me, so I sent them a message.

[ It involved tearing the throat out of one of their neck's with her teeth whilst her knife was still buried deep in another's jugular. The third was left to retreat back into the desert, where she'd stopped tracking them. Oh, Bandits. At least she got more weapons out of it.

She'd even been kind enough to string their corpses up in trees near the edge of the forest. ]

[clarke finds herself feeling a strange sense of deva ju after she regains consciousness to find herself on a dropship of all places but on the upside at least it wasn't mount weather again. she hears the voice from the radio she discovers soon enough but the fact it is directed at her leaves he a bit confused.

she frowns slightly because while the other person seems to know her, she is drawing a blank and can't seem to place the voice or even know who is speaking with her. she decides to be cautious but still keep neutral, feeling a bit unsure what the intentions are of the person she is speaking with] This is Clarke— who am I speaking with?

They took you, Minho. They didn't take me - I don't remember it anyway. [ Which means nothing when WCKD is involved. ] We found the Right Arm and they took you. They shot you with one of those things and dragged you away. [ The emotion in his voice is raw, like it had been when he'd been disgusted with everyone ignoring Alby's death, or like when he had begged Thomas to explain why they were running away from the compound. It's obvious now, why he'd seemed so clingy before, anyone can but that two and two together with what he'd said.

I thought I wasn't going to see you again. When we got separated. I didn't know what to do, I thought that was it.

He'd given up on another lost friend because that's all that happened to him now, somehow he managed to outlive his friends. He blinks a couple times, trying to figure things out in his head. ] He already looks at me like I'm jacked in the head, punchin' him for no reason isn't gonna win him over. [ Though it might be oddly therapeutic. But the sentiment that Minho has behind his words strikes deep, causing some of the tenseness in his shoulders to leave. ]

And sometimes he gets things we miss. [ He speaks the words, despite how much they make his stomach churn in worry an in fear. He likes to think if he were some kind of problem for them, he'd know it, or have an inkling, or maybe not even be telling them he's not on the same page as them. He likes to think it, but it could be something more.

If this is what life is going to continue to be like, he's not sure it's worth it. ] I wouldn't forgive myself if I hurt one of you shanks. [ If that's his intention, the one WCKD has created for him, well there are plenty of ways he could keep that from happening here.

He knows he shouldn't have told Minho any of this, shouldn't have opened up to him. They've known each other longer, this hurts him more than it hurts Tommy, probably. But somehow, knowing that it might come from Tommy's mouth instead of his makes him feel sick. It makes him scared that if he hides it, Minho will stop trusting him.

Then again, maybe Minho shouldn't trust him. Could step one of whatever WCKD has planned be to earn their trust so he could betray them? He brings his hand up, ready to start chewing on nails again but instead scratches blunt nails and fingers against the side of his throat in thought. No one should be this caught up in their head, he's gonna lose his mind at this rate. ]

They admit they can't survive on their own? Why not tell us where they sleep and where they drink as well.

[ so they can burn their houses and poison their wells, it would imply. Not that that's how they do war. it's just something equally stupid to allow someone you just met to know. right, not worth putting interest in. ]

The Plagued, I saw them. Killed several. I thought Berserkers too, but they're too weak and half rotted. But they'll likely take out those in the city if we just wait.

[ don't worry about the problem, let nature take its course. there seems more important things to worry about. ]

What of the others you found? Where'd they come in from? Do you know where the closest of the allied clans is from here?

[ oh good, she's here. at least he's not entirely on his own. relatively speaking. they were at least able to strike small bargains now and again. clarke was reasonable, at least, unlike man of her people. ]

Roan. Are those your people in the city? [ he's not sure if he's hoping for a yes or a no out of that... ] I woke up in one of your ship. Did more of you come dropping from the sky?

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JANUARY TEST DRIVE MEME

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onedirectionlaugh.mp3

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HEY SHUCKFACE

two Thomases fighting over me [blush] not a problem!

did you just plurk emote at me in the subject header that is so cute

I didn't know how else to convey my extreme emotions

WHAT UP RUNTCHEEKS

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cuuute

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Roan | The 100 (spoilers for 3x04 below)

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italics is trigedasleng bc i'm too lazy to go look up translations

same

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