welcome aboard, space marine

[bloodbathing]

WHO: Agent Maine
WHERE: South Village fountain & inn. North Village ... everywhere.
WHEN: December 27th-30th.
OPEN TO: Everyone!
WARNINGS: Language. (Please note that Maine has a violent temper. For permissions and a link to his opt-out, check his info post.)

---

Fountain: Just Keep Swimming (CLOSED: first come, first served!)

When Agent Maine opens his eyes, he's underwater.

It's not the most disorienting way he's ever woken up. That "honor" probably belongs to one of the times he came out of cryo, or maybe a time when he hit the ground and rolled for cover before consciously registering the sounds of an attack. Still, it's pretty high up there. He kicks hard and surfaces with a gasp. Treads water as he looks around, trying to figure out where the hell he is.

Did he blackout at a party or something? He doesn't feel drunk. Last thing he remembers is killing the target and taking the briefcase. Carolina and York arrived to retrieve him, and ... then he woke up underwater.

What the fuck's going on?

The massive Freelancer shakes his head and starts swimming for the edge. He'll figure it out after he gets solid ground beneath him.



Inn: People Are Friends, Not Food

Socialization isn't a strength of Maine's. He's taciturn to a fault, preferring to speak through body language, facial expressions, and grunts rather than using words. He's picky about his personal space; he's distrustful and unfriendly towards strangers; he has the opposite of an approachable demeanor. Oh, and there's the not-so-trivial fact that he's seven-feet-tall, four hundred pounds, and built like he could throw a car. (If there were any cars around, that is.)

But the shitty thing about being in a strange place with archaic technology and little information is that Maine has to gather intel. And, unless he's beating it out of someone, he's really bad at it.

So here Maine sits in a chair that looks like it might snap beneath his frame — or else catch on fire, given how close he's pulled it to the fireplace. He's wearing what looks like every single piece of clothing from his pack (minus the peacoat; that's draped over the back of his chair), including a black baseball cap to cover his shaved head. Everything about his attire screams 'Newbie,' and yet he's not approaching anyone for help. Instead, he's eyeing people. Sizing them up. Silently debating how to approach.

... So maybe saying 'socialization isn't a strength' is a huge understatement.



North Village: Mine! Mine! Mine!

The house that Maine decides to claim as his own is a large one with far more rooms than he knows what to do with. But its location is defensible, it's removed from the general population, and it has a fireplace. As far as the cold-loathing space marine is concerned, that makes it the best antiquated, poorly insulated, low-tech hovel around.

It's easy to spot Maine moving around the North Village, familiarizing himself with his surroundings and carrying supplies to his chosen house. Anyone who approaches will be greeted with a flat look and a low grunt of acknowledgment. Not exactly friendly — but he does pause what he's doing to see what the person wants.



Wildcard

( ooc: None of these look good? Come at me with something else! For TDM continuations, click here. )

Comments

[bloodbathing]

Nida's suspicion that Maine is new is spot-on, and the Freelancer takes no offense. After all, he's never been any good at blending in. Just one of the reasons he's not a stealth operative — and that's before taking his personality into consideration.

As Nida begins reaching for the wood in Maine's arms, the giant man drops to one knee to make the task an easier one. Then he listens without interruption, dark eyes moving around the inn as Nida explains things. He'll have to take a look at that book later. The Freelancer has no particular interest in what's happened before (though he knows he should look into it), but he wants to know about the animals and plants. Wants to know what he can eat and what might be difficult to kill.

Comfort is far from a priority of Maine's. Still, he allows a little snort of amusement as Nida talks about his house. How long has the other man been here, that he talks about it that way?

Curious, Maine asks, "Here long?"

[skyward_eyes]

"Coming up on a month, so no. I've heard there have been people here for a couple of years."

Grand scheme, not very long. But long enough to know he doesn't like this place. He doesn't like the lack of purpose. It hasn't been easy, but at least he knows how to do hard work because it needs done.

Once the wood is all stacked Nida stands straighter and stretches. Nice.

[bloodbathing]

A month sounds like a fair bit of time to Maine — right up until Nida says others have been here for a couple years.

The giant man's eyes widen in surprise. Years? How the fuck is that possible? He blinks rapidly, silently working to process that as Nida continues stacking wood. Those people must have chosen to stay. Chosen this life, for whatever reason. There's no way in hell they could be stuck here for so long.

Maine certainly won't be. He's fucking determined of that.

By the time the wood's all stacked, Maine's surprised has faded. He rises along with Nida. Waits until the other man is done stretching before offering a big, calloused hand to shake:

"Maine."

[skyward_eyes]

Really big. Impressively big. Nida takes that more or less in stride and shakes the offered hand. His main concern (no pun intended) was that he hoped that the guy wouldn't crush his hand.

"Nida. Welcome to town. Enjoy the horror of knowing we're kinda powerless compared to home."

There's not even a flash of concern in his eyes as he says it. He's pretty much internalized how hopeless it is and moved on.

[bloodbathing]

Fortunately, Maine is practiced in controlling his strength; Nida's hand is in no danger. Not one for unnecessary casual contact (or casual contact at all, really), Maine draws back as soon as they've shaken.

The lack of concern in Nida's expression makes it difficult for Maine to tell if the other man is joking. He cocks his head slightly to the side, expression questioning. Silently requesting either clarification or an explanation.

[skyward_eyes]

Strangely enough, Nida spoke and understood enough Squall-speak to get at what the big man met pretty instantly.

"My world had magic and all of that. Here I lack a weapon, I lack spells, I lack what made me strong. And there are monsters out there. Not like I'd define them, but terrible stuff. How do you defend yourself against moths that leave you an amnesiac?"

[bloodbathing]

Nida's quick grasp of Maine's nonverbal question is appreciated. However, that understanding may be a double-edged sword. Unless Nida doesn't mind the fact that, once he begins discussing magic, Maine gives him a look that clearly suggests he thinks the younger man might be insane.

Still, Maine listens until the end. Doesn't edge away or laugh outright. Nida might be nuts, but he's also been helpful. And besides, Maine is anything but intimidated.

'Amnesia-causing moths' gets a long look before Maine shrugs. "Flashlight?" he suggests. That's something moths like, right? Draw them away or something.

[skyward_eyes]

"Don't have flashlights," Nida shrugged. "And the powder extends from them in a cloud. So as frustrating as it is, a bit more complicated."

Granted he didn't know exactly how he'd deal with them if he wound up near them. But did it matter? The young man seems completely unbothered by the idea that he might lose memories to them. Sort of just a fact of life for him. Memories aren't his to keep. Well, they are now, but he doesn't know what to do with that fact.

i thought i tagged this??? i'm sorry for the wait 8(

[bloodbathing]

Unfortunately, Nida's unbothered state gives Maine the impression that it's not a serious problem. Or perhaps that the moths are hypothetical. He hums, considering the issue for only a moment more before shrugging and offering another solution:

"Fire."

If the moths are stupid enough to move towards the flames, they die. Problem solved. If they flee from the flames instead ... well, problem still solved.

[skyward_eyes]

"Haven't tried it but not necessarily a bad idea," he admits thoughtfully.

Perhaps it would work. However it's not like they are in the position to test that. To test anything like that. They'll have to make do with what they have in the end.

"Probably best to avoid them anyway."

[bloodbathing]

That gets a hum of agreement. If amnesia-causing moths are real, avoiding them is doubtless the best strategy. If they're real. Maine's opinion on that is currently torn between Nida's lack of concern and his thoughtful response to Maine's last suggestion.

Should probably give that book a look. Hope that the author takes things seriously.

Indicating the book with a jerk of his chin, Maine asks, "Location's recorded?"

The location of the moths, he means. Not the book itself.

[skyward_eyes]

"Their normal habitats and areas that there may be high concentrations of them in," Nida grins, because people here, they share what they know.

People writ things down, and that's useful.

In fact, he heads over to grab the book to bring over to Maine.

[bloodbathing]

Useful, indeed. Especially for a man whose specialty is raw power, not gathering intel. Maine notes the grin, wondering if Nida might be a book lover. He doesn't guess that it's due to people sharing their knowledge.

When Nida returns, Maine takes the book with a hum, careful by (very old) habit with the binding. He looks back to Nida, catching his eye before nodding.

"Thanks."

For more than just retrieving the book. Maine's grateful for the help.

[skyward_eyes]

Book lover? Hardly. Not Nida's cup of tea. But intel is useful, and surely Maine has to agree with that bit of information. Like right now, he's watching Maine thoughtfully as the man carefully handles the book. That's intriguing all in its own way. Either books were strange to him, or he had hurt them before. So many questions.

But really, there isn't much more to be done here. Granted, there isn't anywhere he can go either, but he can leave the man to his reading.

"You're welcome. I'm gonna see if there's any food left pre-cooked in the kitchen. Get some tea. You want any?"

think this should wrap it up!

[bloodbathing]

Although he catches Nida's thoughtful look, Maine can't guess its source. People have questioned Maine's intelligence before and have assumed he's illiterate, but Maine doubts that's the case with Nida. Why would Nida hand him a book if he thought Maine couldn't read?

So, Maine bears the scrutiny without comment. When Nida asks if he wants something from the kitchen, Maine nods — he rarely ever turns down food. Once Nida is on his way, Maine will find a place to warm up by the fire and settle in to read the book.