nahkmor.

     ❛  Can’t bet against that logic.  ❜  There is a certain charm to be had for his brutish nature. On their side, it’s almost fun to watch--- like an action movie in real time, but the gore isn’t just cheap and computerized. ( She’d be lying if, at first, it didn’t make her feel sick to her stomach, though. )

        ❛  A spine? Like a belt? Great, ‘cause I was also thinking about hanging a few hands there too.  ❜  The sarcasm drips from her tone, sardonic but most of all, still amused. In a way, she doesn’t expect anything to come from this, but... She should know better than to doubt Drack.   ❛  You sure you’re not trying to set me up with a Krogan suitor?  ❜

individualitylost.

As much as they have their disagreements, it’s admittedly refreshing to talk to someone with a positive outlook on things--- even Ryder is not exactly subtle with his sardonic apathy. Then again, maybe he just doesn’t care to be.

❛  Course I do, I do, it’s just...  ❜  There’s a soft sigh exhales through her nostrils, eyes squinting some against the light.  ❛  Y’know. Reminds me of home like Omega. Maybe it’s not the best thing in the world to miss a pisshole like that. ...But hey,  ❜  the look in her eyes then betrays the smile if her voice didn’t first,  ❛  how many Omegas can a couple of outlaws build, right? I’m probably just thinkin’ into it too much.  ❜

       Ray Bradbury, “There Will Come Soft Rains”

Tick-tock, seven o'clock, time to get up, time to get up, seven o'clock!    //   The morning house lay empty.  //   It repeated the date three times for memory’s sake.  //     It was raining outside.  //    “Rain, rain, go away; rubbers, raincoats for today…”     //     At eight-thirty the eggs were shriveled and the toast was like stone.   //     The house was clean.   //     The sun came out from behind the rain.   //    This was the one house left standing.    //     The gentle sprinkler rain filled the garden with falling light.    //    “Who goes there? What’s the password?”    //     drawn shades in an old maidenly preoccupation //    self-protection which bordered on a mechanical paranoia.     //     an altar with ten thousand attendants, //     the gods had gone away. //     the ritual of the religion continued senselessly, uselessly.    //     angry at inconvenience.    //   only silence was here.   //  its eyes turned to fire. //   Delicately sensing decay    //   like great butterflies    //     yellow giraffes, blue lions, pink antelopes, lilac panthers     //    The walls were glass.  // the walls lived.   //     the lazy bumble of a purring lion.    //     the murmur of a fresh jungle rain. //    smoking, waiting. // The house was silent.     //     There will come soft rains     //     swallows circling with their shimmering sound;   //     frogs in the pools singing at night,     //    wild plum trees in tremulous white;  //     not one will know of the war.   //     if mankind perished utterly;   //     Would scarcely know that we were gone.   // the house began to die.  //    The wind blew.    //   licking, eating,   //   “Fire, fire, fire!”  // tried to save itself. //     the windows were broken   // in ten billion angry sparks//     too late. //      as even an elephant must at the sight of a dead snake.    //     clear cold venom   //     An explosion!     //     bone on bone,    // torn the skin off //   Run, run! //     Help, help!   //     a tragic nursery rhyme, //     like children dying in a forest, //     alone, alone.   //    One, two, three, four, five voices died.     //      Blue lions roared, purple giraffes bounded off.     //    maniac confusion, yet unity; //     singing, screaming, //     with sublime disregard   //    Smoke and silence. //   Among the ruins,

galaxiiie.

      Initially, she had come to question when the next drop to Aya would be, but just as her mandibles splay for her lips to part, they press shut again, quiet as Siob speaks. A brow plate rises in recognition, her oh? of acknowledgement expressed rather in expression than in voice.

       ❛  Funny you say that,  ❜  Vetra all but cajoles, weight shifting to the side as a hand lifts to prop up upon a sharp-edged hip,  ❛  I was just going to ask you when's the next time we visit Aya for that exact reason. ...Not sure your idea of 'obscure goods' happens to involve Angara cereal, though. What's up?  ❜

dracksmash.

      ❛  I was not.  ❜ She’s not really sure why there’s protesting. Maybe she just feels like arguing?  ❛  ---Did you notice how crappy the translation was, though? Was it just me, or did a quarter of the words barely even go through? Must’a been a dearly loved copy. ‘Specially with the way Liam went on about it. Like the Spirits themselves came down from the stars and blessed the damn thing.  ❜

dracksmash.

     ❛  Someone took a little too much inspiration from movie night.  ❜