Atlas Gym, Monday (8/19)

[notallbluemonks]

So. Beau had spent the last week on a really nice vacation trip with Karolina, and she was still relaxed and almost (you'd miss it if you blinked) in a good mood when she showed up at the gym. Their portal back had gotten in pretty late last night -- which was kind of Beau's fault, since she'd forgotten to take time zones into account, but in her defense watches weren't even a thing that existed in Exandria so she'd never had to consider that before -- and so she hadn't done much more on the way home from the causeway than give everything a cursory glance to make sure they weren't underwater or in some kind of hellscape or made out of pixels.

She hadn't even bothered to look at the email that had come in really early yesterday morning. Not until she got to work today, that was, and then she blinked at her phone, read the email again, and blurted out, "Wait, what the fuck?"

And then of course she had to go back and catch up on last week's radio broadcasts.

And then -- look, decorum was never going to be a defining characteristic of Beau's use of language on a good day, but the increasingly emphatic tone of her obscenities, in Halfling and dubiously-accented Dwarvish as well as Common, was impressive today.

Not that she was sorry she'd missed out on this one at all, but great, now she was that asshole who went on vacation while everybody else was having the worst time ever. Thanks for needing to find something to latch onto, self-loathing.

The gym was open at least, and she was on duty, so that was something.

[OOC: Gym/post open! Work-related SP probably inevitable, but I could really use the distraction today.]

Trooper Station; Monday [08/19].

[died8yearsago]

If there was one word to describe the atmosphere in the station that Monday, it would definitely be awkward.

So, so awkward.

But, with Rosa being who she was, she was actually enjoying every single shameful moment of it. Maybe a little too much, but whatever. Last week had been horrible, she should be allowed to derive some sort of sadistic pleasure out of the fact that all she had to do to make the troopers all hang their heads and step lightly and shuffle around penitently was just look at them and give her had a faint, disappointed sort of judging shake, shouldn't she? Maybe throwing in the occassional narrow-eyed glare might have been a bit much, but nope. Nope.

This whole fear and shame and peace and quiet thing was pretty great, though. Maybe they should all be brainwashed into almost killing their boss by brutal public execution more often.

Or not. But, hey, Rosa was an optimist, right? Who could really blame her for really latching onto the silver lining in all of this?

[[ open! ]]

Blackstone Foundry and Forge; Monday [08/19].

[special_rabbit]

If Amaya was to be honest with her feelings about the whole thing, she'd admit that staring down her potential death by big public spectacle had left her more than a little shaken. But when was a Blackstone ever honest with their feelings? She'd never really had much of an interest in that, and she certainly wasn't planning on starting it up now, and so she was fully dedicated instead to focusing on the fact that, sure, she may have stared her own demise in the face, but she'd also stared down into the insides of this island's mechanical workings for a few moments there, and if that wasn't enough to get her brain gears moving on about fifty different ideas, well, then, she might as well hang up her hammer right then and there.

Not to mention the fact that the Junkyard Biter itself opened up a whole new world of possibilities for the Crumbler.

Yesterday had been filled with getting those ideas onto paper, with tinkering around with a few concepts here and there on some of the smaller things, and today...today Amaya would get to work on shaping out some of the larger parts for some of her new fantastical ideas, fueled by her blatant rejection of the idea that anything was wrong, that anything about last week had bothered her, because, look. Sure. She and a bunch of others almost died and people were brainwashed and they were made of plastic and fluff all week, but she'd also discovered that the island was sitting on an absolute mechanical marvel of technology, and she wanted in on that, she wanted to piece together how all that worked, and it was mostly just a project for herself, but there was soon to be worktables pushed together to support large pieces of what looked like a miniaturized reconstruction of the thing, for no other reason than that she wanted to see if she could do it.

She was, it should be noted, also taking the time to maybe brush up on being able to hammer effectively left-handed as well, which took some doing, but so help her, her right arm had had more than enough last week.

The Forge is open!

Syndulla Scrap- Monday afternoon

[seriesofbaddecisions]

Sabine had half expected to be somewhere weird again today, where she could be annoyed at the island and the setting and it could distract her from the gross feeling that she'd had since everything ended on Saturday, maybe even distract her enough from dealing with it at all.

That hadn't happened.

She definitely wasn't in the mood to deal with people, so she didn't want to be in the dorms, and the big stuff in her warehouse had been moved to the Ghost a while back while the island was moving, so she couldn't lock herself away there. That may have been what led her over to the scrapyard, and she was resolutely not thinking too hard about that. She hadn't even been sure Hera would be around, but if the ship was, she was.

"Hello?"


[For she whose name is on the place!]