Arrival If there is a less graceful entrance to this place he'd love to see it. Truly, his ego has taken quite the beating over the last forty eight hours, and stumbling into an unfamiliar city on an unfamiliar planet but still damnably restrained in the federation-issue magnetized handcuffs around his wrists? His day could be going better. He could probably get them off if he had the right rools, but who knows what he'll have access to here? Yes, he is special though, thank you, or at least he'd always loved to believe that. So, green blood still trickling from a cut on his scalp with several bruises, Narek tries to not look like a lost tourist as he looks for something to get his hands free.
Spit Shine Your Black Clouds Narek has managed to get the handcuffs off of himself one way or another, so sure, he'll celebrate, though he looks perfectly relaxed and cheerfully friendly he makes a point of touching neither food nor drink unless he sees someone else try it first and observes them long enough to make certain it's safe. When it comes time to offer up prayers and objects to whatever the pit represents?
Fuck it. There's a certain satisfaction in throwing the handcuffs into that chasm, even if he instantly feels the guilty loss of wasting a potential resource. His mouth is a thin line as he watches them vanish into the darkness along with the other offerings.
Silhouette saloon Narek is a cagey bastard and he's pretty sure he's in hell. It seemed great at first, exactly his type of place, to sit and listen to other people spill their secrets.
Narek is made of secrets and they're threatening to choke him, vanishing into the same fog a little bit at a time until he finally has to grab someone by the arm and hiss out a whisper he no longer remembers the reason for, but knows it's a terrible truth just the same.
"... I thought I was doing the right thing."
Digital Veil What a juvenile little riddle.
I've enough bruises for a lifetime and more. I've no need of roses, real or imagined. Cradles are equally useless for me, but coffins I can put plenty of use to.
How about this one? Say my name and I disappear. What am I?
WILDCARD [Idk throw something else at me? Will match format!]
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timeasmymeasure
Narek | Star Trek (Picard)
Date: 2020-08-21 12:49 am (UTC)If there is a less graceful entrance to this place he'd love to see it. Truly, his ego has taken quite the beating over the last forty eight hours, and stumbling into an unfamiliar city on an unfamiliar planet but still damnably restrained in the federation-issue magnetized handcuffs around his wrists? His day could be going better. He could probably get them off if he had the right rools, but who knows what he'll have access to here? Yes, he is special though, thank you, or at least he'd always loved to believe that. So, green blood still trickling from a cut on his scalp with several bruises, Narek tries to not look like a lost tourist as he looks for something to get his hands free.
Spit Shine Your Black Clouds
Narek has managed to get the handcuffs off of himself one way or another, so sure, he'll celebrate, though he looks perfectly relaxed and cheerfully friendly he makes a point of touching neither food nor drink unless he sees someone else try it first and observes them long enough to make certain it's safe. When it comes time to offer up prayers and objects to whatever the pit represents?
Fuck it. There's a certain satisfaction in throwing the handcuffs into that chasm, even if he instantly feels the guilty loss of wasting a potential resource. His mouth is a thin line as he watches them vanish into the darkness along with the other offerings.
Silhouette saloon
Narek is a cagey bastard and he's pretty sure he's in hell. It seemed great at first, exactly his type of place, to sit and listen to other people spill their secrets.
Narek is made of secrets and they're threatening to choke him, vanishing into the same fog a little bit at a time until he finally has to grab someone by the arm and hiss out a whisper he no longer remembers the reason for, but knows it's a terrible truth just the same.
"... I thought I was doing the right thing."
Digital Veil
What a juvenile little riddle.
I've enough bruises for a lifetime and more. I've no need of roses, real or imagined. Cradles are equally useless for me, but coffins I can put plenty of use to.
How about this one? Say my name and I disappear. What am I?
WILDCARD
[Idk throw something else at me? Will match format!]