(no subject)
OOC note: Once again, bold is German, italics are Ellenized Latin. Normal is English. And err, sorry she's such a bitch. :P
I spoke with Brendan in the kitchen this evening while refueling from a very long day. Peanut butter, despite juvenile associations, remains an excellent and efficient source of protein. We had a discussion of interest on the subject of the cause.
I believe he is a fool. What kind of cause demands no sacrifices? What gives him the arrogance to believe that he will be among those who survive? Who goes into battle with the certainty of victory?
I do not fight for our people because I believe the cause is inevitable, I fight because I believe the cause is right. Not that I have done much fighting as of yet, but the battle is certainly the path I have chosen.
But I believed he was a fool when I first encountered him. Now I have more confirmation. Not that I needed his thoughts on the cause to confirm that ... leaving aside his preference for the inelegant forms of death, and I suppose my elitist inclination to sneer at his inability to differentiate between a heart attack and the degeneration of aortal tissue into an undifferentiated mass of seething and incompetent flesh, there is also his deep fascination with the sound of his own voice to be reckoned with. Also he threw the milk carton at me.
All in all I deem him frivolous.
He seems very young, even in comparison to those here who bear the appearance of being younger. But mostly he leaves me feeling frustrated ... mildly annoyed, perhaps.
This feeling of superiority is likely dangerous. I will do my best to conceal it.
I suppose our cause is every bit as in need of cannon fodder as any other, and if he believes in it, that should be good enough for me.
I do not have to seek out his company, however.
<> Kitchen - Lv1
As one might expect, the Kitchen here is pretty much self-serving. Like the rest of the complex, it seems to have been dug right into the rock, and the walls of this wide room are still mostly stone. Somehow, however, electric appliances have been connected. A large, steel island dominates the center of the room, while one wall is lined with a stove, sink, counter, and dishwasher, the other possesses a table and a few chairs. Above the island hang a variety of pots and pans for any Brotherhooder who might be so inclined as to actually cook. The fridge, well-stocked, dominates most of another wall along with some cupboards and cabinets. For a room with no windows or natural lighting, the atmosphere here is oddly comfortable. Someone has even gone to the trouble to tile the floors in a nice, cream color.
Ellen's sharp-featured face bears the wearied, dark expression of a cellular manipulator pushed just a nonce past her sensible limits: that means protein and fast, and in this case, peanut butter and jelly. It may be childlike, but it is quick and efficient and Valkyrie has little patience for bopping femalishly around the large kitchen. The tall blonde tears viciously into the hastily assembled sandwich as though she is a predator and it a fresh kill as she leans against the counter.
Brendan hasn't been seen by anyone lately, having holed himself up in his quarters for the past four days or so without coming out or saying anything to anyone, and one might start to worry that he may have gone past the breaking point and done something stupid like attempting suicide...but alas, that isn't the case being that he is presently standing in the doorway to the kitchen. He does look quite different from his normal self...his eyes are darker, his lips are curled downwards in what seems to be his new favorite expression: a frown, and he just seems much more tense and angry than he usually is. Seeing Ellen standing there in the kitchen, Brendan merely stares at her blankly for a few moments, before he heads over to the fridge to get a beer. Seems he's started drinking as well. Hmm...the damage a woman can do to a guy, especially when said women ends a relationship.
Ellen swallows a large bite of sandwich and licks a few spare crumbs off of delicate fingers. She runs her tongue along her teeth, tracing extraneous peanut butter to swallow again before she cants her head slightly to one side, regarding Brendan at the fridge. "Excuse me, could you hand me the milk, please?" Look: civility!
Brendan hears the request, and he mechanically reaches into the fridge. Grabbing the milk, he tosses the carton backwards over his shoulder. "Catch..." he intones. "And if you drop it I ain't cleaning it up either." One can't really tell if he is joking or not. Grabbing the first beer he sees, he shuts the fridge by bumping it with his hip. He opens the can and takes a swig, before his eyes fall on Ellen again, then on the sandwich. "A bit hungry there, I take it? Careful you don't bite through your own fingers." He smirks.
Ellen catches the milk swiftly, with reflexes heightened from this morning's combat training, although there's a flicker of irritation in the blue-grey eyes that retreats back to cool composure after a bare instant. "I'll just grow them back, if it happens. I've gotten rather good at digits," she confides with mild wryness sneaking into her tone. "I need to replenish my supply of energy."
Brendan smirks. "I was just kidding, I know you're not stupid enough to bite off your own fingers. Creed's about the only one around here who would do that. I'm sure he wouldn't mind biting off a few other fingers that aren't his own as well." He leans against the counter, folding his arms. "So you're eating a PB & J sandwich to replenish energy. That's the oddest type of fuel I've ever seen...no offense, of course. So...training going well, I assume?" A tiny bit of his old self is present there, but his voice has lost all of it's previous optimism and friendliness...now he just kinda drones on in a low, quiet tone, devoid of hardly any feeling.
Ellen looks down at her sandwich. "Fast protein," she intones blandly, shrugging as her glance returns politely to Brendan. "I believe I am performing adequately." She is not one to make much note of tones devoid of feeling; casual human interaction for Ellen is almost inevitably devoid of feeling, save the occasional flash of irritation or irony.
Brendan nods his head, "I see. That's good to hear." He takes another swig from his beer..."Lemme ask you something. How does this island compare to sitting there in jail for what, a couple years?" He hadn't heard how long exactly she and the others were there...he just knows they were there. "You notice any similarities between the two places? I mean, not that I'm trying to say anything here, I'm just curious is all..."
Ellen raises a cool brow at him, faint amusement flashing briefly in her expression. "Similarities? Not really," she says. "Why do you ask?"
Brendan shrugs and shakes his head, "Like I said, no reason, I'm just asking. How were you treated over there? I'm sure not very well. I suppose that could be one of the differences. Also, here you're not confined to a cell all day, you're allowed to roam all over the island whenever you want. I guess that's another thing right there..." He finishes his beer, crushes the can with his hand, then tosses it at the garbage can. "Have you ever been so angry that you just want to grab a knife or other sharp object and just start stabbing it into the first human being you see, not stopping until someone decides to pull you off them?" Ehhhhh...interesting question that came out of nowhere...;)
Ellen flashes a rare grin. "That's how I ended up in prison," she says mildly. She takes another bite of sandwich, pouring herself a glass of milk as she chews it, and chases it down with a swallow. "Of course, I didn't resort to anything so inelegant as stabbing."
Brendan raises his eyebrows, apparently liking what he's hearing. "-Really-? That's...interesting..." he remarks. "There are definitely worse ways to end up in prison, heh. So what'd you do, exactly? Explain in full detail, if you would be so kind. I do love a good story..." He leans against the wall and folds his arms, a very light shadow of a grin tugging at the corners of his mouth. "And there's nothing wrong with stabbing, it's a perfectly good way to relieve stress..."
Ellen tilts her head slightly to one side as though mildly bemused. "I regressed all of the cells in the heart of an irritating human to an undifferentiated state," she answers, nothing in her voice but the cool facts. "I do not imagine it is a terribly engrossing story." She leaves the subject of stabbing delicately aside for the moment, believing it to be a topic on which she and Brendan might agree to disagree.
Brendan is quiet for a few moments as he thinks over what Ellen said....finally, he replies..."So what you're saying is, you gave the guy a heart attack. Nice." He grins a bit more now. "Not too messy, but hey, who wants a mess to clean up, right? I think I'd be able to do something like that, but in my case I'd have to be close to said person, and sometimes it's risky, y'know? And I think for the human it'd be a bit more painful, though making someone's heart pop in your fist is oddly satisfying for some reason." He shrugs. "And hell, I don't care if it's not an interesting story. It'd be better than any of the other crap I hear around this place."
Ellen frowns at him, slightly puzzled. "There is not much more to say. He attempted to threaten me with some petty blackmail, as though my genes were anything to be ashamed of. His foolish bigotry was the death of him." Not the most logical course of action, but satisfying at the time, at least until the criminal justice system caught up. "I have to be in physical contact to alter the cells of any living organism," she remarks for clarifications sake, and forestalls further comment with another bite of sandwich.
Brendan smirks and nods his head, "Yeah, that sounds pretty stupid to me. I hate those stupid bastards when they try to pull crap like that on us. I could see how maybe an Xer would fall for that, but not someone with our mindset. I'm proud of what I am and I wouldn't let some stupid human try to hold my abilities over my head like that. You did the right thing...I'm sure that jail time was worth it, especially now that you're here?"
"Worth it?" Valkyrie stares at him blankly for a moment. Then she shrugs. "I am certainly glad that I'm here, in any event." She pours herself a little more milk, eyes lowered to watch it filling the glass.
Brendan hmmms softly. "Well, this is the best place you could be at this point in time. We -are- going to come out on top when all of this is over with, that's one thing I know. If all those idiots out there don't realize it, well...that's their problem, and they'll have to deal with it when the time comes." He frowns again, his eyes narrowing. "And I'll really enjoy being one of the ones who makes them deal with it..."
Ellen nods coolly, a slight lift of the fine blonde brows as she regards him. "Of course," she answers briskly. "Humanity is full of fools." That said, she returns her primary focus to the dwindling peanut butter sandwich. There may have to be another sandwich in a moment.
I spoke with Brendan in the kitchen this evening while refueling from a very long day. Peanut butter, despite juvenile associations, remains an excellent and efficient source of protein. We had a discussion of interest on the subject of the cause.
I believe he is a fool. What kind of cause demands no sacrifices? What gives him the arrogance to believe that he will be among those who survive? Who goes into battle with the certainty of victory?
I do not fight for our people because I believe the cause is inevitable, I fight because I believe the cause is right. Not that I have done much fighting as of yet, but the battle is certainly the path I have chosen.
But I believed he was a fool when I first encountered him. Now I have more confirmation. Not that I needed his thoughts on the cause to confirm that ... leaving aside his preference for the inelegant forms of death, and I suppose my elitist inclination to sneer at his inability to differentiate between a heart attack and the degeneration of aortal tissue into an undifferentiated mass of seething and incompetent flesh, there is also his deep fascination with the sound of his own voice to be reckoned with. Also he threw the milk carton at me.
All in all I deem him frivolous.
He seems very young, even in comparison to those here who bear the appearance of being younger. But mostly he leaves me feeling frustrated ... mildly annoyed, perhaps.
This feeling of superiority is likely dangerous. I will do my best to conceal it.
I suppose our cause is every bit as in need of cannon fodder as any other, and if he believes in it, that should be good enough for me.
I do not have to seek out his company, however.
<> Kitchen - Lv1
As one might expect, the Kitchen here is pretty much self-serving. Like the rest of the complex, it seems to have been dug right into the rock, and the walls of this wide room are still mostly stone. Somehow, however, electric appliances have been connected. A large, steel island dominates the center of the room, while one wall is lined with a stove, sink, counter, and dishwasher, the other possesses a table and a few chairs. Above the island hang a variety of pots and pans for any Brotherhooder who might be so inclined as to actually cook. The fridge, well-stocked, dominates most of another wall along with some cupboards and cabinets. For a room with no windows or natural lighting, the atmosphere here is oddly comfortable. Someone has even gone to the trouble to tile the floors in a nice, cream color.
Ellen's sharp-featured face bears the wearied, dark expression of a cellular manipulator pushed just a nonce past her sensible limits: that means protein and fast, and in this case, peanut butter and jelly. It may be childlike, but it is quick and efficient and Valkyrie has little patience for bopping femalishly around the large kitchen. The tall blonde tears viciously into the hastily assembled sandwich as though she is a predator and it a fresh kill as she leans against the counter.
Brendan hasn't been seen by anyone lately, having holed himself up in his quarters for the past four days or so without coming out or saying anything to anyone, and one might start to worry that he may have gone past the breaking point and done something stupid like attempting suicide...but alas, that isn't the case being that he is presently standing in the doorway to the kitchen. He does look quite different from his normal self...his eyes are darker, his lips are curled downwards in what seems to be his new favorite expression: a frown, and he just seems much more tense and angry than he usually is. Seeing Ellen standing there in the kitchen, Brendan merely stares at her blankly for a few moments, before he heads over to the fridge to get a beer. Seems he's started drinking as well. Hmm...the damage a woman can do to a guy, especially when said women ends a relationship.
Ellen swallows a large bite of sandwich and licks a few spare crumbs off of delicate fingers. She runs her tongue along her teeth, tracing extraneous peanut butter to swallow again before she cants her head slightly to one side, regarding Brendan at the fridge. "Excuse me, could you hand me the milk, please?" Look: civility!
Brendan hears the request, and he mechanically reaches into the fridge. Grabbing the milk, he tosses the carton backwards over his shoulder. "Catch..." he intones. "And if you drop it I ain't cleaning it up either." One can't really tell if he is joking or not. Grabbing the first beer he sees, he shuts the fridge by bumping it with his hip. He opens the can and takes a swig, before his eyes fall on Ellen again, then on the sandwich. "A bit hungry there, I take it? Careful you don't bite through your own fingers." He smirks.
Ellen catches the milk swiftly, with reflexes heightened from this morning's combat training, although there's a flicker of irritation in the blue-grey eyes that retreats back to cool composure after a bare instant. "I'll just grow them back, if it happens. I've gotten rather good at digits," she confides with mild wryness sneaking into her tone. "I need to replenish my supply of energy."
Brendan smirks. "I was just kidding, I know you're not stupid enough to bite off your own fingers. Creed's about the only one around here who would do that. I'm sure he wouldn't mind biting off a few other fingers that aren't his own as well." He leans against the counter, folding his arms. "So you're eating a PB & J sandwich to replenish energy. That's the oddest type of fuel I've ever seen...no offense, of course. So...training going well, I assume?" A tiny bit of his old self is present there, but his voice has lost all of it's previous optimism and friendliness...now he just kinda drones on in a low, quiet tone, devoid of hardly any feeling.
Ellen looks down at her sandwich. "Fast protein," she intones blandly, shrugging as her glance returns politely to Brendan. "I believe I am performing adequately." She is not one to make much note of tones devoid of feeling; casual human interaction for Ellen is almost inevitably devoid of feeling, save the occasional flash of irritation or irony.
Brendan nods his head, "I see. That's good to hear." He takes another swig from his beer..."Lemme ask you something. How does this island compare to sitting there in jail for what, a couple years?" He hadn't heard how long exactly she and the others were there...he just knows they were there. "You notice any similarities between the two places? I mean, not that I'm trying to say anything here, I'm just curious is all..."
Ellen raises a cool brow at him, faint amusement flashing briefly in her expression. "Similarities? Not really," she says. "Why do you ask?"
Brendan shrugs and shakes his head, "Like I said, no reason, I'm just asking. How were you treated over there? I'm sure not very well. I suppose that could be one of the differences. Also, here you're not confined to a cell all day, you're allowed to roam all over the island whenever you want. I guess that's another thing right there..." He finishes his beer, crushes the can with his hand, then tosses it at the garbage can. "Have you ever been so angry that you just want to grab a knife or other sharp object and just start stabbing it into the first human being you see, not stopping until someone decides to pull you off them?" Ehhhhh...interesting question that came out of nowhere...;)
Ellen flashes a rare grin. "That's how I ended up in prison," she says mildly. She takes another bite of sandwich, pouring herself a glass of milk as she chews it, and chases it down with a swallow. "Of course, I didn't resort to anything so inelegant as stabbing."
Brendan raises his eyebrows, apparently liking what he's hearing. "-Really-? That's...interesting..." he remarks. "There are definitely worse ways to end up in prison, heh. So what'd you do, exactly? Explain in full detail, if you would be so kind. I do love a good story..." He leans against the wall and folds his arms, a very light shadow of a grin tugging at the corners of his mouth. "And there's nothing wrong with stabbing, it's a perfectly good way to relieve stress..."
Ellen tilts her head slightly to one side as though mildly bemused. "I regressed all of the cells in the heart of an irritating human to an undifferentiated state," she answers, nothing in her voice but the cool facts. "I do not imagine it is a terribly engrossing story." She leaves the subject of stabbing delicately aside for the moment, believing it to be a topic on which she and Brendan might agree to disagree.
Brendan is quiet for a few moments as he thinks over what Ellen said....finally, he replies..."So what you're saying is, you gave the guy a heart attack. Nice." He grins a bit more now. "Not too messy, but hey, who wants a mess to clean up, right? I think I'd be able to do something like that, but in my case I'd have to be close to said person, and sometimes it's risky, y'know? And I think for the human it'd be a bit more painful, though making someone's heart pop in your fist is oddly satisfying for some reason." He shrugs. "And hell, I don't care if it's not an interesting story. It'd be better than any of the other crap I hear around this place."
Ellen frowns at him, slightly puzzled. "There is not much more to say. He attempted to threaten me with some petty blackmail, as though my genes were anything to be ashamed of. His foolish bigotry was the death of him." Not the most logical course of action, but satisfying at the time, at least until the criminal justice system caught up. "I have to be in physical contact to alter the cells of any living organism," she remarks for clarifications sake, and forestalls further comment with another bite of sandwich.
Brendan smirks and nods his head, "Yeah, that sounds pretty stupid to me. I hate those stupid bastards when they try to pull crap like that on us. I could see how maybe an Xer would fall for that, but not someone with our mindset. I'm proud of what I am and I wouldn't let some stupid human try to hold my abilities over my head like that. You did the right thing...I'm sure that jail time was worth it, especially now that you're here?"
"Worth it?" Valkyrie stares at him blankly for a moment. Then she shrugs. "I am certainly glad that I'm here, in any event." She pours herself a little more milk, eyes lowered to watch it filling the glass.
Brendan hmmms softly. "Well, this is the best place you could be at this point in time. We -are- going to come out on top when all of this is over with, that's one thing I know. If all those idiots out there don't realize it, well...that's their problem, and they'll have to deal with it when the time comes." He frowns again, his eyes narrowing. "And I'll really enjoy being one of the ones who makes them deal with it..."
Ellen nods coolly, a slight lift of the fine blonde brows as she regards him. "Of course," she answers briskly. "Humanity is full of fools." That said, she returns her primary focus to the dwindling peanut butter sandwich. There may have to be another sandwich in a moment.