abraxaslogs | {Darude Sandstorm Intensifies}

Entry tags:

{Darude Sandstorm Intensifies}

Who: Garrus Vakarian & Open To All
When: March
Where: Cadens + Horizon
What: Catch all ~~comedy~~ for March and the prelude!
Warnings: None - will warn in thread headers if necessary

Happy to throw up a custom starter if anyone would like! |

redfirelight | Cadens Starters | Horizon Starter

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

"Well, that sounds wonderful."

Crane studies that hand, openly curious and privately suspicious. He could return the gesture, deepen their friendship, but that connection is the last thing he wants. He presses his scarf across his mouth as one excuse not to take it; holding his coat closed as the second.

"Though I imagine this isn't the worst you've seen."

He blinks, but dismisses it. Securing a scarf against the weather is more important than handclasps, after all. More important to get him out of the storm.

"Worst on a habitable planet!" And that's a story for when he's not shouting over wind and sand. This place needs radios. Like yesterday.

Instead of dwelling, Garrus jerks his head in one direction. "This way. They've opened a shelter down the road." The doctor can wait until there's a lull in this storm before moving on, he figures.

Of all the worlds in this universe, in his universe, this is the worst? Crane thinks that isn't the case but believes Garrus is unlikely to lie about something inconsequential. Banter is more engaging when one can believe it, after all.

He follows the taller man, keeping to his shoulder.

"Oh, that sounds comfortable."

Does he think so? Not entirely. But it is a more engaging sentence for the other, he thinks, than a slight murmur of opinion.

"Hey, if you'd rather stay outdoors, be my guest!"

It's not a serious statement. He's much rather get the doctor out of the storm - even if he has to scoop the guy over his shoulder. Which he knows he won't have to, logically. Still, though.

He gestures with a jerk of his head, before moving out. It really is just up the road a bit more, and when they arrive, he shoulders the door open. Letting the other man go in first.

Crane accepts the invitation: careful not to jostle his companion who might hear a murmur of gratitude as he sidles inside. The shelter is packed from room to room. Each inch covered with signs of life and sand - people cleaning their clothes and shaking dust from their hair. Plenty of minds to pick apart, plenty of memories to analyse. He could reckon it to spearing fish in a barrel but in the game of life? They are unimportant.

He removes his scarf from around his mouth, fingers gentle in folding it in half, before it is folded across his arm.

"Looks busy."

Garrus puts his shoulder to the door, wedging it closed against the wind. It takes more effort than it would have, otherwise. But it does close. Only then does he take a step back, shaking the sand out of the crevices in his head plating and fringe. Then the mask is peeled off. More sand added to the piles on the floor.

"Sorry," he says, absently. And it's clear he's not actually sorry at all. "Forgot to make a reservation."

A real comedian, here.

"You in one piece?"

"Well, were this a restaurant, I would be one foot out the door."

His cold and clinical voice is laced with dry humour and sarcasm. One hand runs through his hair to shake it clean, while his aloof expression makes it difficult for strangers to tell he is joking. Voices natter and chatter - jabber about the weather - to the point he wishes a tornado would tear through the building and carry everyone away.

"Though you look like you're already there."

Garrus' reply is a snort, amused. "Yeah, I can see that," he drawls. After a moment, he reaches into a bag slung at his side, and holds out a canteen to Crane.

"Not quite painting the town red, but here."

In case the man needs something to get the grit out of his mouth. Garrus definitely does, but he can wait. The amount of people in here is a little cloying. Compared to Omega, compared to a market in the Wards, it feels normal.

Eyes glance, curiosly and cautiously, at the canteen. His mind questions desires, motives and reasons, the aims of such friendliness. Befriending someone, helping them out of pity, priming them for questions or favours. But his fingers are already reaching out - his sheepish expression betraying his mood as he claims the canteen.

Seconds pass while he unscrews the lid. This man is regimented, communicative, rooted in his community. Perhaps his kindness is to feel secure?

"Thanks. This weather isn't par for the course where I'm from."

"I had a hunch - your Domain was a lot less sandy in general."

Which brings up another point.

"Speaking of, how's it holding up? Ours is in the middle of a blizzard. Whole ship feels like it's going to blow over."

It's curiosity that brings it up. That, and what he and Shepard had seen in the Horizon, those menacing storm clouds hadn't meant anything good, he's sure. If they can all pool their information, they can figure something out, most likely.

"Well, this probably sounds excessive to a guy like you, but it looks like hell."

Crane stops looking around - at strangers and situations - and turns his gaze on Garrus. His Horizon hasn't fared better. Storms, blizzards, hail that rattles the windows.

"I guess that's your kind of place?"

"Yeah, that's what I'm hearing from other people..."

Stormy hell. It's disconcerting. Especially with what they saw. He chuckles a little, shaking his head.

"I hate cold, to be honest with you." He complained about it endlessly whenever they had to slog through any kind of chill. "It seems like it's spread over everyone's Domain. And I don't like what that implies..."

His smile vanishes and his brows knot in thought. It takes effort to change, requires power to enforce it upon others. He wrinkles his nose and stares at nothing and nobody. The time for jokes is over.

"Some external influence? One strong enough to enforce change?"

The only question on his mind is how can that power be used?

"Yes, I can see why that would trouble you. But there's no point in worrying is there? Do you understand what I mean, Garrus?"

Give into the fear and you will be paralysed and unable to do anything.

"That's our theory. But neither of us are familiar enough with how this place works to really decide anything definite."

He's been asking around. Frankly, he's about as sensitive to all this magic as a rock. Sure, he's worked on it, but it doesn't come naturally. It's frustratingly difficult.

"Hah." There's not exactly humor in that sound. Or amusement. "I'm not sure I'd call it worrying. Being cautious, maybe. Curious, sure." But bad things going on with a supernatural, powerful force really doesn't bode well, in his limited experience. "Best to ask around, get some perspectives, before we start deciding to bunker down."

Crane hardly looks mirthful. Quiet, thoughtful, considerate. His face is inexpressive, masking his curiosity. For what will happen and what people will do.

"Yes it is. Though this weather has possibly made that decision for us."

He looks around. People huddle together, fight for space. What people will do, indeed.

"Fair point there."

A glance around too, his expression pulled tight over his facial plating. A scowl, really, uncertain, worried.

"More reason to keep it to ourselves for now. Until we know for sure what's going on."

"That sounds wise."

Crane glances around - one final inspection of their surroundings.

"Do you want to find a seat? One of us looks like a man who's about to fall apart."

And from the look he sends Garrus's way, it's obviously not himself. But maybe he's joking.

"Hey, I'm fine. My face always looks this good."

He's joking, if nothing else. Garrus Vakarian, master of the brushoff through self depreciation. Still, it's probably for the best, considering how many people are crowding around. The less floor space they take up, the more room there is for others.

So he nods in the direction of a couple benches, out of the way.

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

{Darude Sandstorm Intensifies}

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject