ᴛʜᴇ ᴍᴏᴅᴛᴇᴀᴍ ᴏғ ʜᴀᴅʀɪᴇʟ (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
hadrielmods) wrote in ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png)
hadriel_logs2016-10-14 11:08 am
hadrielmods) wrote in hadriel_logs2016-10-14 11:08 am
Entry tags:
- !event,
- ahsoka tano,
- allison argent,
- alphys,
- armand,
- bianca,
- carlisle longinmouth,
- castiel,
- chara,
- cole,
- dean winchester,
- emily,
- faith carr,
- flick,
- frisk,
- gren,
- hannah washington,
- henry cheng,
- henry percy,
- jill valentine,
- jo harvelle,
- l lawliet,
- lea,
- maketh tua,
- mello,
- miriam day,
- nick valentine,
- noah czerny,
- pell,
- river tam,
- sam winchester,
- sans,
- shadow the hedgehog,
- tiny tina,
- ushahin dreamspinner,
- will graham
Event Log: Keepsakes
Who: Everyone participating in the event!
What: The event log for the Keepsakes event!
Where: All around the city
When: October 15th-October 19th
Warnings: A bunch of random crap.
What: The event log for the Keepsakes event!
Where: All around the city
When: October 15th-October 19th
Warnings: A bunch of random crap.
Well, Hope and Delight are messing with the door again, but at least this time dragons aren't involved, right? This attempt goes a bit better - sure, no one gets sent home, but if everyone will just look under their seats, they'll find a FREE [INSERT SOMETHING YOU MAYBE DIDN'T WANT AT ALL HERE]! Awesome! So nice! Yup, throughout these few days people will be finding things from home - something they loved, something they used all the time, something they hated, something they totally forgot they even had. All sorts of cool stuff!
Well, they might not actually find it. Their neighbor might, or a complete stranger. And who knows where it could turn up? At the park, half-buried? In the Silent Hill zone, kept safe by a horrifying monster? Or hey, maybe in somebody's underwear drawer. Awkward. Better try to find your stuff, or find the owner of whatever weird crap you found. It could be something important.► This log covers October 15th-October 19th.
► Feel free to make your own logs, as well
► Please tag headers of threads with content warnings where they apply
► Please put your character's name and open/closed in the subject line of your starters!
► If you somehow manage to die in this event, please let us know here, and also what the hell?
no subject
[Yeah so he could - potentially fall and split his skull open and dust himself on the spot. This is very likely something that could happen. A very real possibility. But he's also got a very refined handle of where he ends up now that his shortcuts are workin' again.]
I wanna guess here. You strike me as aaaaaa... [He spreads his free hand wide, as if picturing an invisible sign before snapping his phalanges with a faux "eureka"-style panache.]
Crichton too mainstream for ya? I'd say Sagan, but that's a gimme. And also not, y'know, fiction. But c'mon, I'm genuinely curious here. What's your poison?
no subject
Less because it would kill Mr. Sans, more because he knows Mr. Sans would remove himself before the crash, and thus, all he would have done was make a mess. Mr. Sans would then likely pun about it and Hermann would
Absolutely. Lose. It.
Instead, he sucks his breath between his teeth. ]
How does that matter? How do you even know any of this? How do you have any sense of our mainstream science fiction, of Star Wars, even our blasted memes?
no subject
Also, Hermann just said "memes" and that's kind of magical.]
I mean, most of what I do know comes from whatever ends up in the garbage. [Not his fault some humans have got truly despicable taste to throw Sagan away. But, y'know. One man's trash, etc.] I am sorely undereducated when it comes to the memes department. And the mainstream science fiction department. I need a refresher here, c'mon.
no subject
Even if just looking at him, neck craned for the exercise, in a state of such repose on top of the sodding cabinet, irritates profoundly. ]
The garbage.
[ Flatly, as he attempts to conceive. (He would at least agree about tossing Sagan.) ]
That is not my responsibility. You and I both know Newton would be much happier to do it.
no subject
He should probably fix that, huh. Kinda bein' a dick, huh.
Granted, this is, uh...not new.]
All right, all right, I guess he's the one that's got all the dirt on ya.
[With a long-suffering roll of his eyesockets to the ceiling, he reappears behind the doctor in question, and offers the page without any further ado.]
Still think that totally counts as a first date, though.
no subject
Hermann pivots, a quick stab of his cane and a still rather militaristic swiftness to the motion, and snatches the papers with undue vehemence, given Mr. Sans now offers it without resistance. ]
Thank you.
Stop pushing a ridiculous point. I may not have an abundance of experience in this area, but unless the definition has changed, a date requires the consent and cognizance of both parties. We were colleagues having lunch. Hundreds of thousands, if not millions, pairs of colleagues lunch daily the world over, without it being a date.
But to put it succinctly, Mr. Sans, what you think doesn't matter.
[ Well -- if Mr. Sans is being a dick -- it isn't as though Hermann isn't, himself. If a reactionary dick. ]
no subject
Sans can walk away happy. Hermann can walk away pissed, but this ain't exactly atypical for Hermann.]
All right, all right. I'll ask your beau what he thinks. 'Cause I'm, uh, not sure how much of an "impartial record" that complaint form really is, mind.
[Given the scalding language comprising most of the report - and, presumably, all preceding and following reports because fuck if the man doesn't love to write and write and write - Sans really wouldn't be surprised.]
no subject
Only, if faces could, then this next would not have been possible: Hermann, scowling down at the paper, his eyes scanning the words. Just as remembered. Only.
With 500 complaints, even one that stood out like this, with every other report, with every other day, with the days, weeks, months, years, the details will not remain fresh. Every bit of data cannot be fresh and clear at the ready, even in a mind like his.
Only, as Hermann reads over the report, his expression softens. There's no mistaking it. The alacrity of his reading slows, too, taking more care with it, remembering. By the time he reaches the end of the first page, when his topic shifted, he isn't scowling at all. Nothing of it remains.
He also can't remember what Mr. Sans said. Hermann shakes his head, processing, thumbing back through the data, waving hand and form in a dismissive, too large arc in the air. ]
I was rigorous with accuracy, I assure you. [ None of the bite remains in his words, either. ] If you do actually go out of your way to introduce this asinine topic with him, please feel no obligation to report back with his opinion. I don't care.
[ An another pivot, his head turned down again to the papers, eyes reluctant to leave the text to search the room for where to put it. ]
no subject
And it's clear that there's an undeniable warmth that just gets more and more stark the longer the doc combs through his however-old-it-is report. Time don't really matter here, and Sans doesn't care to calculate it in any significant way. So he doesn't.]
You always are, [Sans drawls in a tone that could just as easily be a compliment and a veiled insult. It's probably the former.]
I mean, I'm pretty sure he'll give you his opinion anyway.
1/2
Even if it had been a veiled insult, Hermann would have refused to take it as an insult. Accuracy can never be an insult. Whatever it was, then, Hermann takes it as he chooses to, which results in Mr. Sans earning a rather smug smile, a why-thank-you nod of his head. ]
no subject
You are right, unfortunately. I'll hear about it.
[ Any point to attempting to backtrack, suffer through this conversation, and hope to prevent Mr. Sans seeking Newton's opinion? No. The latter will happen regardless, now. He's sure of it.
Hermann tucks the paper in a notebook that may or may not have a surplus of rainbows and a kitten on it, then turns back to Mr. Sans. ]
Enough of that. Has anything of yours turned up?
no subject
[An easy lie. There's a photograph in his jacket pocket that he still ain't had the courage to withdraw and study at any length. It's just a reminder of a choice he made. A choice that he made them make.
But he's always known he's somethin' of a coward.]
Interesting notebook you got there.
no subject
But, he says nothing.
Really, he expects Mr. Sans to lie, now. Especially if it matters. It is surprising enough that he would acknowledge receiving anything. To say that he had, but not of consequence, suggests it is of consequence -- or he may have said more.
May have.
May not have.
Hermann doesn't even bother giving him a pointed look, not beyond the eyebrows. He also is not fooled by Mr. Sans's easy deflection, the shift to the notebook that should be embarrassing. He sniffs, tilts his chin, and rolls his eyes. ]
It was all I could find in the stores.
no subject
[He laughs, 'cause that could not be further from the truth but it's quaint in its own way, and Newt probably gives him an endless stream of crap for it anyway. Very amusing crap, probably.
He ain't really sure how to properly raise the topic he should mention - the whole "by the way, if you find anything that looks like it's written in hands, don't look at it too close 'cause it's written by someone who don't exist anymore and has maybe a fifty-percent chance of breaking your brain if you give it the time of day" thing is kind of a tough subject to broach. And on top of that, without hinting what his connection to it might be.
Still. They're kind of a pressing issue. A real pressing issue.
"Is it just me, or did the gods decide to shower us with some especially esoteric confetti this fine day?"
Nah. Too direct. The doc would see right through it. The - heh, this doc would see right through it too, huh?]
I'm guessin' I should keep an eyesocket out for any other, uh, strongly-worded letters of yours?
no subject
[ b l a n d l y, because he will not be embarrassed by necessity. Newton is, of course, delighted. Endlessly. Ceaselessly. The joke has been beaten, and beaten, and resuscitated to beat it again.
Not that Newton's notebook is much better.
At the question, Hermann shrugs, a frown beginning to slant his mouth, crease in his forehead. ]
I suppose. I don't know how the PPDC kept them. If one turned up, more might.
[ A natural followup might have been to offer the same. Only, Mr. Sans's earlier vague answer gave him little to work with, had begun to foreclose the avenue in his mind. It does not occur to him to ask whether he should keep an eye out for anything of Mr. Sans, when the most he has for context it, nothing of consequence.
Instead, he mutters. ]
Of all the ridiculous things... then again, with the computer, I won't complain.
[ SHOCKINGLY, given the subject. ]
no subject
Hey, that's pretty handy. Alph got hers too. Real nice of the gods.
[Presumably that's what's causin' the whole kerfuffle, as that's what causes most kerfuffles. Cause, effect, you know how it is.]
no subject
Once he gets it powered, the computer will make it so easy to begin writing proper complaints about Hadriel, yes. He had not wanted to waste paper or chalk before.
He might.
Be looking forward to it. ]
Yes, as it happens, we found one another's.
Nice is an interesting choice of word, given it is clearly an unintended result of tampering that may yet kill us all.
no subject
[Simple enough. If an anomaly is kind, an anomaly is kind. If it ain't, it ain't. Pretty linear logic, even if the morality there, the ideology - well, that's anything but.]
Should'a figured you two would get along.
[But Sans's tone is one of unmistakable fondness. He's got such cool friends.]