Melkor (
morgoth) wrote in
ataraxionlogs2014-01-20 07:07 pm
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Entry tags:
We used to play outside when we were young
CHARACTERS: Melkor/Morgoth, Tom Mcnair
LOCATION: Trek about the ship
WARNINGS: TBA?
SUMMARY: Melkor and Tom bro it up on the way to Sciences
NOTES: Closed except by request! Feel free to msg if you wanna hop in!
Melkor is waiting, when Tom arrives, looking neatly clean, his hair damp and slicked back from his face; showered, perhaps, or freshly swum. Either way, he seems livened, brightened, the same smiling, buoyant personality who had been so eager to invite him to coffee.
A wolf, fresh from a successful hunt.
He makes a low sound of greeting, the air huffing out of his nostrils like a beast's snort of acknowledgement, and moves to throw his arm around the young wolf's broad shoulders. "You asked about the temperature; has it been much of a bother of you? And are you eating well enough? You look thin."
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The hall is empty and much cooler than the gardens, leaving Tom glad he was wearing a shirt under his jumpsuit. He had never gone this far despite the SCI that shared space with the number on his arm. It was as boring as every other corridor and the only people who passed by where those that Tom had never spoken to. In short he felt a bit out of place.
"I didn't know you was a scientist. You gonna work here?"
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The halls are virtually empty, though, and as soon as Melkor is leading them beyond the cleaned entryway, things begin looking... much more out of sorts. Parts strewn liberally about. A few darkened blood smears here and there that had gone uncleaned. Melkor's nostrils flare, and it's clear he's casting all his senses outwards, taking note of what he sees.
"I'm not a scientist, not yet. But I think I might take up a space here. We can find a way to beat The Ship, to either put us all back where we belong or... escape it. And this place, with all its machines, all it's lost knowledge. This is the best place to start."
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He had to force himself to step away from the large man. How could he think of something like that when his Dad was in ground.
"What about them folk that are dead back home? Ain't this better than dead?" Tom thought of Annie, George, and Nina. Even Mitchell deserved to have some kind of life.
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"This is far better than dead," he agreed, automatically. Even saying the word, dead filled him with sudden chill. In the pause, he looked to the space about them, which seemed... suddenly more menacing. He hunched his shoulders a little, rubbing his scarred hands together. He looks to Tom again, searching the other man's features carefully.
"But this... it's not freedom, either. We're at the mercy of The Ship. Don't you want to get back? To go home, the place and time you left?"
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"I like it here." Tom was almost surprised to hear his answer. Almost. He did so desperately miss home, but he wasn't sure he wanted that pain again. The death of his only family (such as McNair had been) and Baby Eve. "I got friends here too." Now that he'd met Melkor that was since he was doing a fair job of avoiding Derek and the others.
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"But The Ship is a prison, and I mean to treat it as such."
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"Yeah. You think we can find some planet or somethin' like home? Then we can just live there instead of floatin' around on this ship?"
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Melkor considers Tom while he picks up the metal, and then looks about them; the room they're currently in is lined by computers and monitors, most blackened. Some are trashed, but...
"I should have brought more to clean with," he admits, ruefully. He'd never had to clean a damned thing for himself by hand; the mundane details of such tasks had utterly escaped him. He gestured to some of the computers. "Would you help me re-plug some of these? And I'll help you carry back anything you find that you think you can use."
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Tom leave his thoughts of woods and blue skies to help Melkor. "A'right. Ain't much. I ain't smart like them science folk." His arm might say he works in that section, but at most he's a glorified gardner.
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"Just because you don't have the same learning doesn't mean your incapable of the same skills. You shouldn't self-deprecate so much; you do perfectly well by yourself. You're a good wolf."
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His Dad had tried, and damn if he didn't do a good job, but there were still things that Tom was well aware he lacked, smarts being one of them. Sure he could build a bomb out of anything and he could probably name every type of fish to be found in the rivers of England and Wales, but he wasn't smart like Hal and George. Plenty of people said it, sometimes thinking their insinuations would go over his head (and sometimes they did), but Tom generally knew what they were saying. He was dim. His Dad had sheltered him from the world and because of that there was something lacking, but...but Melkor was smart. Smart like Hal.
You're a good wolf.
He tried to ignore the way those words made him feel as he reattached the plugs to the screen Melkor held. A good wolf. Tom finished and smiled up at the larger man. "You gonna make a lab here?" There was no need to comment on the man's earlier words; he held them close to his chest like a longed for treasure. Something just for him. "Bet we could find some tables and like."
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What am I? was often a thought he wondered at. He had defined himself so thoroughly by goals, by a mission, that no longer mattered here that now and then he was struck by his own aimlessness. What would he do, if he escaped.
Life seemed the only acceptable answer. Create it anew.
"I think I shall head the genetics department. It'll be a good way to invest what time I spend, trying to determine some good way to get us off this ship." When all the cables are in-place, he rights the monitor; which is glowing an even blue, now. Reaches for the next one, hands quickly working to do the same, positioning it that Tom can continue helping in the same manner. "Do you know anywhere nearby we might get tables from?"
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Working on the next screen Tom asked, "Didn' know there was scientist way back." Stories of elves usually involved more magic than science.
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But he lifts both brows at Tom, tilting his head somewhat. "Everything that has ever been or shall be, every atom was made by someone," Melkor informs Tom, mildly. "Science is just... one means of investigating and manipulating what exists. Like taking one path to get to a destination, when three other people might all take three other routes."
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