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In between running outdoors, practice at the shooting range, and studying like hell for when he goes back, Adrian's been keeping himself busy by making himself a reasonably basic longbow. It's just a plain ol' wooden selfbow- backing it with anything comes later. After he's dealt with a far more basic question, namely, arrows. Can't do much without those. He's managed to braid himself a string, and he reckons it'll be respectable enough for the weight of the bow, but until he's actually got something to shoot he's kinda screwed.

Now, he could get fiberglass shafts or dowels from the Bar, but what fun would that be? He's got a whole forest outside to work with, and if he can't find a couple of willow wands or something along those lines that he can split and whittle down to usable shafts then he's not the country boy he thought he was.

He'll be coming indoors once he's done, so feel free to catch the Marine either inside or out.

[tinytag: Adrian Shephard (Half-Life: Opposing Force)]

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"Can't say I have, no," says the gasmasked Somebody. "Ain't been inside since dawn, though. Friend of yours?"

"Ex-boss. In the probably shoot my ass if he sees me way." Roxas says, followed by, "Is that your face, or some kind of weird-ass mask?"

Shephard laughs, but it probably just sounds like a snort through the filters. "Gas mask," he says. "Part of the job back home. I'm more wearin' it out of habit here than anything else. Never seen one before?"

"No. What's it for?" Social niceties are not among Roxas' skills.

"Makin' me not die," says Shephard. Really, most of his equipment comes down to that. "Filters whatever I'm breathin' so I don't wind up with a lungful of shit."

"Oh, so bonuses against poison." Roxas can understand that, "But, like, poison you breathe in? I don't. Breathe."

"Lucky you," says Shephard. "Those of us who do, we use shit like this. Keeps poison out of my eyes, too, 'n it's got starlight scopes built in so I can see what I'm doin' in low light levels."

Roxas shrugs the shrug of those who don't believe you when you say they're lucky, but doesn't argue. "Most of the poisons I run into get into the skin. Low light isn't a problem for me, though. That's my element."

It was more of a sarcastic 'lucky you' than anything. Shephard just nods. "There's more'n a couple of poisons that get the skin as well as the lungs 'n eyes," he says. "Got me an NBC suit to keep that kind of shit out- least I used to, anyway. Damn thing's probably back at Santego if the Combine ain't wrecked it all. Used to workin' in the dark, huh?"

Roxas misses 90% of sarcasm.

He looks at Shephard blankly, "No. I'm Light. If there isn't enough light I can just make more. I have the uniform to protect me against most things, like most poison and attacks. It's all I wear."

"... huh."

Somebody's not used to dealing with Nobodies.

That's okay. Roxas can wait. With an expression steadily less peevish and more blank as he gets away from the source of irritation.

"So if you're made of light," says Shephard slowly, "how's poison supposed to affect you in the first place? I mean... how d'you poison light?"

"Light and Nothing." Roxas says prior to shrugging again, "I don't know, but I'm an idiot. It probably makes sense on a metaphysical level, but fuck if I know enough to begin trying to understand."

"Shit, man, that puts it way the fuck out of my league," says Shephard. "I don't do philosophy much, I got other shit to do with my time."

There's a pause.

"Name's Shephard, by the way. Corporal Adrian Shephard."

"Me too. I kill Heartless. Roxas. XIII of XIII, the Key of Destiny." Pause, "I don't even really get what that means, but that's the title they gave me. Makes more sense than Melodious Nocturne, I guess, but not by much."

"Heartless what?" asks Shephard, who thinks it's an entirely reasonable question. "Sounds like you got yourself a kung-fu movie goin' on there, it's that kind of a title."

"Heartless whatever is around. Agrabah has pot-spiders. They're Heartless that used to be crockery." he's not joking.

"... uh huh," says Shephard. "See, now, I'd bitch about that soundin' like a crock of shit if I hadn't been here long enough to know that damn near everywhere else is really fuckin' weird. And home ain't exactly normal neither, not any more."

"If you did say it was a crock of shit I'd just shrug. It's not like I can care. Everything has a heart. Everything can lose that heart. The only things that don't have a heart are Nobodies - I don't know why Nobodies are called Nobodies and Heartless are Heartless when Heartless are hearts fallen to Darkness and Nobodies don't have hearts. So don't ask - and that's why Nobodies don't really exist. Exactly."

He's as confused as Shephard probably is. He didn't get so much taught as lectured until he could parrot the right information.

"... Somebody here's on drugs," says Shephard after a while, "'n I'm pretty sure it ain't me."

"I don't even have biology." Roxas points out, "Neither do my ex-bosses." he pauses at that, "Neither did they, when I was working for them. I guess a bunch of them got hearts." The last is said dubiously.

"Tell me none of 'em're named anything like 'Grinch' or 'Mary Lou Who'?" Shephard says suddenly.

He may be remembering his childhood stories a little bit wrong.

"Uh. No. Xenmas, Xigbar, Xaldin, Vexen, Lexaeus, Zexion, Saix, Axel, Demyx, Luxord, Marluxia, Larxene. The only one with a zed is Zexion. The rest have x's."

"Just checkin'," says Shephard. "We got a story about a real asshole of a guy named the Grinch who gets a heart for Christmas. Weird shit, but I didn't write it."

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lockitwithkeys.livejournal.com - 2009-01-13 23:37 (UTC) - Expand

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