sixthiterationlogs | I wanted to stay home but I went running running running running from the troubles

WHO: Valkyrie
WHERE: The Bunker, around the village
WHEN: End of November
OPEN TO: Bruce Banner (Bunker), OTA (Village)
WARNINGS: Possible mentions of alcohol abuse, past implied slavery, and PTSD.

Arrival in the Bunker

To wake with swirling, swimming vision, everything distorted in front of her, is nothing new. Many are the nights where the previous night's inebriation simply bleeds over into the morning, one day into another. But the tube? The tube's a decidedly new development.

Groggily she draws a hand up to push at the glass. Then knock against it a few times, the noise enough to discourage further taps with a groan and a squint. Okay, no, hangover is not liking that at all. Though this didn't feel quite like the average hangover.

Still might puke, though.

There's a shape moving past the glass that she can't quite make out, and she tries to lean forward enough to see who it is. One of the Grandmaster's goons? A gladiator? Is this the new pit? She'd worked her way out of that mess already, or so she'd thought. Or was this some scavenger crew who thought to sell her out?

"Hey!" And that initial shout reminds her with a grimace that yes, still in glass tube. Still only really hurting her own ears here. Ow...

Arrival in the Village

Freed of the tube, she's free to marvel at how much...really hasn't changed at all. She's stuck here, instead of there, with less food and booze but more trees and greenery, and fewer tasers or holding cells. Maybe they like their 'prisoners with jobs' free-range, here.

Still, for a new arrival, she doesn't look that fussed by the change of scenery. Anyone look at her could tell she was new, a well-muscled but slight woman with messy dark hair bound back out of her face. Her expression? Says she's already about a thousand percent done with the shake-up and ready to move on. This gaping uncertainty under her feet is a little less than ideal, but she's handled herself in worse.

Clad in telltale red scrubs and carrying her complimentary pack on her shoulder, she's making her rounds, from building to building. Taking in the landscape, such as it is. There's a vague tally to keep, places to sleep, people she'd be expected to work with to do...whatever needed doing. Because of course they're going to ask her to do things, that's not a question, really.

So the sooner she finds out what she needs to do to get secure and get out of her own mind? The happier she'll be.

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

"So far it seems to be the way we all end up here. Lord knows I did." He pauses, "To be fair - in the interest of full disclosure I did destroy a kingdom made of death. It's a long story, but I believe in honesty and the son of a bitch who ran it killed my wife. So."

Sometimes, he is blunt, "...Mark Watney has cannabis. I might be able to find you something if you give me time. Some of what I create though can be...considerably strong."

Hey, the big walking vegetable can be just as blunt as he wants. He's not going to crush her delicate feelings any by doing so. In fact, she kind of smirks as he describes his vengeance on the one who killed his wife.

If she had the opportunity to kill a goddess of death, to avenge her lover? Yeah. In a heartbeat. Go Big Green.

"Well I'm not looking for anything weak." She arches an eyebrow, then. "Do you...you know?"

Would a plant consuming another plant be considered cannibalism -- a cannabis cannibal, try saying that five times fast -- or are they distinct enough to avoid the inherent creepiness involved?

He chuckles at that, "I'll walk you to Watney's. I can't...imbibe. It was my thesis. Honestly if I ever can regrow my body I may supervise people tasting my...fruits. I can grow some incredibly strong stuff."

That's worth exploring, "What sort of a world did you come from?"

"Trash."

That's the best description of Sakaar there is. A world of trash, refuse, and the toss-offs of the universe. A big heap of nothing and leftovers with a king on his trash throne, and the rest of them scrabbling about trying to make the best of it.

There's a pause, before she squints up at him. "Your fruits? So you just...pluck bits off yourself for people to eat?"

Would anyone take him up on that? Some might be more squeamish than others.

"Tubers. More like potatoes."

He shrugs, "I don't like people to do so without my permission. It's ...a hell of a trip."

Alec, despite his sludgy lips, is smirking, "I have to guide people through the green."

Trippy body potatoes. Alright, that's a new one, even for her.

She finds her own lips curling in response to the smirk, her shoulders giving a brief shake of silent laughter. "Sure. So, The Green. That what you call it?" Suppose it was fitting, in a way. Or maybe they gave you a particular sort of high.

She could just imagine Big Green and Shambling over here being some sort of trip guide while you were stoned out of your gourd. Or off of a gourd, depending.

"This might sound very...Hollywood. But it's the life force on earth that connects all living things. Each planet has it's own green...of a sort."

He shrugs, "I just call them tubers. Bad scientist habit. What about you?"

Walking beside her, he's pleased he doesn't have to peer down too far, "What do you do?"

"What's a Hollywood?" Another type of tree, maybe. Don't look too deeply at it.

And then it comes around to her. As one might expect in an exchange like this. She shrugs loosely. "Right now? I carry vegetables. I do whatever's needed in order to get by, mostly."

A not untrue description, though life on Sakaar had been a lot more violent, and 'things that needed done' often included fighting for her life, or for coin, or just to win favor with the madman who ran the planet so she could find a comfortable enough vantage point to watch everything go to shit.

"Don't we all." Alec nods, "...sometimes the best way to deal with problems is to...accept it. To move forward and just accept changes. I've found however, that things that really need your attention will present yourself."

He gestures, "...If you're looking for something to take the edge off I'll see what else I can find and bring to Watney."

"Wouldn't mind it. Where are we taking these things anyway?"

And the plant life gathered in her arms is given a little shake. It's not as though she really knows where anything is yet, aside from the inn and the fountain. Big guy seems like he knows his way around well enough, though. Knows people.

Might be worth tagging along for a while yet.

"The Inn." Alec gestures, "I like to sort it out and leave it for whoever needs it for cooking and medicine. The Inn's a meeting place for the group."

He shrugs, "You're welcome to take some for yourself. The things that look like potatoes?" He points, "Those are arrow root. Good for headaches and fever. I'd hold onto it as we progress to winter."

I wanted to stay home but I went running running running running from the troubles

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