#moonrepeat

[10-o]

@moonrepeat sent : "hope you don't mind me droppin' in on the party. you looked like y' needed th' help." a hand reaches down to the drifter, tattered sleeve splattered with coolant from the moa the stranger had cleaved in two with their... shovel? “what say you and i find our way off this corpus wagon t'gether, hey?”

he's been in tight spots before, no doubt about it. hell he's even died a couple of times, nothing he could shake off later. there's still an age old burn of shame over being the one rescued; that, even for one second, he needed saving. taking the offered hand he swallows it down, and instead nods as he stands. ❝ 'preciate it, ❞ unconventional weapons and all. void knows drifter's no stranger to bizarre armaments. 

for the moment the stranger has bought them a lull in activity. drifter takes the opportune quiet to throw himself into a wall, jamming his shoulder back into place gracelessly. oh, that was gonna be tender for a minute. exhaling slowly through his nose he rolled his arm, urging some of the ache away with restored motion. ❝ what's your name? you from fortuna by chance? ❞ 

[empyrrion]

@moonrepeat sent : ❛ may i… stay with you tonight? ❜

 he turns his head to acknowledge the other, pale moonlight gleaming off silvered visor. for all his compounded centuries of existence, there were few creatures in it he could claim to have met similar to present company. he stands much taller than kalymjor's avatar, though his presence is far from frightening. well, not so for am empyrean. 

his vigil had been over ruins long since abandoned and slowly being reclaimed by nature. weeks he had stood, statuesque, as the forest around them did it's work, bringing divine serenity to the overgrown environs. though he doesn't move and his hands remained resting over the pommel of his blade, standing vertically before him, he smiles. 

❝ you're welcome to stay as long as you need. ❞ 

[eyehunger]

"y' look an awful lot like my bodymate," @moonrepeat observes, unprompted. "lot more eyes, mind you, but the squiggly bits got me thinkin'. all you critters come from the same source?"

AND THOSE EYES OBSERVED THE OTHER, THROUGH THE OTHER. At them, and at what nestles betwixt the crevices of metal and wire-- - familiar, but there was very little that wasn't to the God // EVEN AMONGST THE GRAND EXPANSES OF THE UNIVERSE. “&– - My source, both time and location, far precedes its existence as its current state. But.... a similarity may be found.” Obscurity, intentional // POTENTIAL TO BE WHET. Curiosity was both its greatest tool and a direct link of existence, something it harbored and shepherd closer into the own clutches.

UNPROMPTED ASKS ARE ALWAYS ACCEPTED

[arc-77]

"some mighty fine equipment you got there. heard the trooper armor pinches somethin' awful, but it don't look too shabby. you do some custom work?"

"Only pinches if it wasn't designed with you in mind. 've never had that problem." The trooper casually shifts his balance to one leg, hooking his thumbs around his belt. There's a certain smugness in the way he said that. "Pretty much all custom by this point. No parts commonality with the base design, just retained the visuals. Been told I'm overly meticulous." He does a little twirl to show off, belt-spat rising up like a circle skirt. "You look like you've had some work done yourself."

[10-o]

glancing over their gear, drifter wonders if anything they're here to salvage is for an upgrade. most of everything he used on the regular was ----- ancient ( like drifter himself ), but it was the envious kind of ancient. old tech that could easily outlive and out perform the modern day equivalents. much like drifter, the kind of stuff the orokin couldn't kill and keep dead. D-1N0's gear looked the regular kind of ancient. in a sad way. ( like drifter. )

❝ guilty as charged, ❞ he says with a raised hand, shaking out the remaining ache from his shoulder. he gestures to himself, then follows after them once they start walking. he was… headed this way anyways. ❝ drifter. i'm looking for some corpus hot shot ---- ❞ which meant someone with little scruples about silly things like morals where monetary gain was involved. ❝ he's overdue an ass beating. ❞ drifter was 100% here to kill him. ❝ and he's throwing everyone he can into my line of fire to stop that from happening. ❞

there's a virtual itch deep in D-1N0's programming that recognizes that shame; they've seen humans at their worst, after all, and shame is a lesser evil that's burned itself into their behavioral cognition. tactfully, they decide not to acknowledge it. their grasp is firm but gentle, and they release the drifter as soon as he's back on his feet.

"i've run with SU a few times, but i ain't one of theirs. i'm just a loner testin' their luck." they turn away from the drifter, busying themself with a screen strapped to their forearm. the display is archaic, its map interface pixelated to an almost incomprehensible degree. "name's D-1N0. i infiltrate, scavenge, loot. i was listenin' to corpus comms chatter while diggin' through their archives and heard they were after someone, and it weren't me, so..."

they swing their shovel casually, pointing down the corridor, before setting off in that direction with an unhurried swagger. "you here for anythin' in particular?"

[eyehunger]

"bfg. stands for big ████ing gcritter."

❛[ GIVE IT A NICKNAME / PETNAME TO REACT TO ≻ accepting!

“&– - Giant would have still sufficed, as much is a mere speck compared to my whole. God a fitting replacement as well.” // @moonrepeat

[arc-77]

[This is the trooper?] The voice that buzzes over comms is masculine, seemingly Ghorman; a faint trace of anxiety hitches on the last syllable. [I've been tracking you. Err, not maliciously, you understand. I think I can help you.]

The trooper presses himself up against the wall instinctively. Breaking open his double barrel shotgun, he manually extracts the single spent shell and slides a replacement into the chamber. In the few short weeks he's been trapped in the nebula, this is the first time he's heard a voice on one of the moons that wasn't another employee. A new threat? Voice mimic? But no one he's met here has an accent like that... vaguely familiar.

He leans out into the doorway, weapon raised. A lootbug skitters out of view somewhere down the dimly lit hallway — nothing worth the ammo. Safe, for now. Back in cover, he shines his flashlight at the ceiling in search of any security cameras, something he was not previously aware these facilities had.

"I'm listening." He glances at a timer on his gauntlet. "You've got five minutes before I exfil."

[empyrrion]

despite his form and the odd way in which he moved, as though a tree given limb and trying to recall how to walk in a body it doesn't recognize, he calls to mind a stray. the way in which he settles at kalymjor's heel makes the empyrean think of the runt of a litter, left out in the rain.

he eyes the stone around his neck, it's enchantment not needed to converse with one such as him, but waits to comment on it in case it is a comforting anchor to hold on to. ❝ i see, ❞ he hums after a moment of contemplation, returning his visored gaze to far beyond the ruins. ❝ your worry comes from a place of kindness, that is to be admired. ❞

❝ yet it sounds as if you have made some friends in your journey. will they not miss you? ❞

the creature hesitates before emerging from the shadows; gangly, branch-like limbs folding down gracelessly, catching on rags and rope as it hurriedly rearranges its garments. jean sits in the cool grass beside kalymjor, his knees tucked up to his body and too-long arms wrapped about them.

[thank you. umh...] he grasps at the amulet around his neck, fingering the metal hoop that connects the speaking-stone to the chain. [i don't want to be alone, but the others—it's not their fault, but they keep looking at me. i just can't handle it anymore. i'm terrified that i'll catch someone's eye, and...]

he bows his head, burying his face against the back of his arms. his fronds rustle as they curl up and around his torso like a leafy shield. [i'm sorry,] he huffs. [i'm grateful that everyone lets me stay. i'm just worried i'm going to end up hurting someone.]

[arc-77]

"you collect anythin' other than weapons, partner?"

"Scratches on my paintjob and a whole heap of dust. You? Doesn't sound like you've got the luxury of secure storage."

[arc-77]

"En-oh?" He replies, confused. A beat passes. "You mean Dee? You know them?" His grip tightens on the shotgun as the implications dawn. "They never mentioned you." They didn't mention a lot of things, it seemed. Did they not remember this... voice? Did something happen between them?

Or was information being withheld from him deliberately, as a result of the droid's directives? Was it going to be a problem going forward? Tensions between them were already growing. He could practically feel himself reaching for the screwdriver—maybe a crowbar—to pry open that damn thing's rusty headcase. He'd pull out the droid processor, do some rewriting... maybe then it'd be a little more helpful, and a little less frustrating.

Fordo closes his eyes, the back of his helmet knocking against the wall. Now isn't the time to get vindictive. He needs to gather as much information as possible before he decides how to act on this.

"How are you immune? And how long do I have, before it starts targeting me—?" No. He's placing too much trust in a voice he'd heard for the first time less than a minute ago. He must be getting more desperate than he thought. "—Who are you? What's your name?"

@arc-77 // continued

[wait! wait. five minutes. ok.] background noise echoes over the line; the rattle of something metallic rolling across a solid surface, likely a desk, followed by a strange rustling like the blades of dry grass rubbing together. [thank you. i'll try to keep it brief.]

[you can't leave the thistle nebula. you know that, but you don't know why. there's a... it's difficult to explain. i don't know how much en-oh has told you.] clearly the droid hasn't mentioned him at all, which comes as a mild surprise. [there's a creature at the center of it all. it gets inside your head, turns your thoughts inside out. it feeds on your memories until there's nothing left. i don't think it's fully noticed you yet, you're not an employee, but it will soon and then—]

a pause. there's another faint rustle, something like an exhale. the stranger is steadying his nerves. [i'm immune to its influence. i can plot a safe route out of the nebula,] he says, his urgency giving way to rehearsed confidence. [but i don't have a ship. we need each other.]

[arc-77]

"y'know, i been thinkin'," they start, with such slow emphasis it's clear the cogs in their half-rusted brain module are really turning. "i'd make a damn good mercenary. bounty droid, whatever you wanna call it."

"See, that's what I've been saying." The trooper throws his hands up in the air. "There's shiploads of two-bit bounty hunters out there who just don't know when to fold 'em. You, you've been pickin' your battles with blind dogs on a daily basis for... god-knows how long now. If anyone's got the good sense required to make it, it's you."

[eyehunger]

GO TO PINTEREST & TYPE IN "YOUR MUSE'S NAME + CORE AESTHETIC" & CREATE A MOODBOARD.

tagged by: @unlament thank you so much! tagging: @sixersigned, @moonsymbols, @moonrepeat, @creatureshrieks / @twiningfates (for whoever you wish), @unfortunatedarling, @magioffire and whoever else wishes to !

[moonrepeat]

#MOONREPEAT ━━━━ i'm rolling in my grave, feeling like a grenade.

EMPLOYEE FILE jean sauveterre had been an entrepreneur, an inventor with some of the highest potential out of the entire thistle nebula; but one too many poor choices had led him down a dark path in life, one that ended in his indefinite servitude to the company. he quickly became the technological know-how of his crew, jailbreaking their ship and equipment to increase their chances of success considerably. his overconfidence eventually led to disaster. after tampering with an inverse teleporter, jean opted to test the device personally—it malfunctioned spectacularly, transplanting his consciousness into the body of a rapax-folium. now free of the company's sinister influence, jean is determined to bring about the downfall of the monster at its core and unravel the mystery behind the disappearance of the "golden planet" and its denizens.

NAME Jean Sauveterre NICKNAME "Goggles" AGE 37 GENDER cis man PRONOUNS he / him HEIGHT 9ft (275cm) VOICE French accent; synthesized through his comms-collar

STRENGTHS extremely physically powerful. technological genius. can survive in harsh environments that are lethal to humans. inquisitive; doesn't like to leave questions unanswered. unwaveringly kind and helpful. FLAWS uncoordinated. often forgets how tall he is; it's not uncommon to witness him colliding with door frames. easily distracted. cannot tolerate direct eye contact. prone to instinctual bouts of territorial aggression. conspiracy theorist. TRAITS nervous, obsessive, impatient, resilient, loyal, excitable, compassionate.

GEAR jean hauls around a massive backpack (by human standards); full to bursting with all kinds of tools and spare parts. his most prized possession is his comms-collar, which allows him to translate his neurological impulses into synthesized speech; unfortunately, it also has the trade-off of exposing his thoughts if he's not careful about activating it. his goggles, from which he gets his nickname, are his own design; they shield his sensitive vision while in brightly lit areas and are an upgraded version of the base scanner.

[arc-77]

"Standard operating procedure. Scan everything I see for potential threats." Fordo gives a noncommittal shrug and crosses his arms, shifting his weight to one leg. "Suit yourself. If it was parasitic, I'd have offered to help remove it. Used to be a pararescue, y'know, stitch people up mid-flight. Got steady hands." He does a grabby hands gesture, then cocks his head. "Harmless to organics. What about to you? It's not controlling you, is it?" He lowers his voice. "...Is that your boss? And why are you wearing clothes?"

@arc-77 sent. "You've got a, uh," Fordo twists a knob on the side of his helmet to focus his scanner. "Not sure if that's an overgrown conduit worm or a full-on dianoga, but it's nestled in your chest cavity."

the old droid startles, joints seizing for a millisecond before their head whips around to drill fordo with a glare. their wooden hand moves to their chest instinctively, fingers curling into the patchwork fabric that keeps their passenger hidden from view. it's a flimsy shield, and one they hadn't considered the trooper capable of bypassing entirely.

"you mind askin' before you go violatin' my privacy like that? i wear clothes for a reason, y'know," they say warningly. well, the loth-cat's out of the bag now, it seems. "it ain't neither of those things," they grudgingly admit. "ain't none of your business, neither. it's harmless, least to you organics. that's all i'm obligated t' tell ya."

[moonrepeat]

#MOONREPEAT ━━━━ did you imagine it in a different way?

EMPLOYEE FILE D-1N0 was an unsuccessful attempt to increase the productivity level of their assigned crew through the introduction of a mechanized assistant. value of chassis and components estimated at ████. outstanding efficacy target as of last review. right arm destroyed during assignment on 85-rend (see attached incident report); replacement looted from guardian entity. instabilities evident in core programming. caution advised as employee is ████ ██ ████████. Y O U ' R E H E R E F O R E V E R.

NAME D-1N0 NICKNAME "Dee" AGE 64 GENDER none PRONOUNS they / them HEIGHT 6'2ft (187cm) VOICE older masculine; strong Appalachian accent

STRENGTHS extensive combat experience. physically and mentally resilient. exemplary practical skills; self-trained and self-sufficient. will always complete a task to exact specifications, insurmountable odds be damned. modular design for easy repair. FLAWS doesn't respect crew who can't pull their weight. defaults to violence as the first response to any threat. significantly corrupted data from continuous self-tampering and memory encryption. protocols demand absolute loyalty to the company. TRAITS alert, sociable, resourceful, mercurial, persistent, assertive, pessimistic.

GEAR standard company issued shovel; double barrel shotgun (stolen from a nutcracker); utility & repair kit.

[moonrepeat]

#MOONREPEAT ━━━━ indie & selective D-1N0 and JEAN SAUVETERRE. originally based in lethal company lore. mutuals only. very crossover friendly.

D-1N0 / JEAN RULES ↴

001 bigotry and harassment won't be tolerated here, or anyone who fetishizes r*pe / inc*st / etc. proship and those who associate with them dni. this blog is 18+ only. posts will always be tagged with the content warnings relevant to them, and anything explicit will be placed under a readmore. personals may interact so long as you respect basic rpc etiquette.

002 please don't overuse formatting when replying to me, it makes it difficult for my dyslexia having ass to read. small text and consistent double spacing are fine, but if the words are all over the place and interrupted by multiple graphics and fancy fonts i genuinely can't read them, especially on mobile.

003 my activity can be sporadic—sometimes i reply to things within a few hours, sometimes a few weeks. if it's been a while with no mention of something i owe you, though, you're more than welcome to give me a nudge; i'm very scatterbrained and a reminder is always welcome!

004 if i follow you, i'm interested in interacting. i'll gladly adapt D-1N0 and jean to any setting; sci-fi, fantasy, modern, etc. i love figuring out how they fit into different genres or franchises, so any queries to that effect are never a bother. i won't, however, turn them into humans.

005 if you want to write a specific kind of dynamic with my muses, please discuss it with me before bringing it up in-character. i'm not against shipping, i just don't have a lot of enthusiasm for it with how the rpc seems to prioritize it over everything else. i don't practice mains or exclusives (with the exception of my bestie cyrus' muses).

BLACKLIST please tag mentions of #child death and #child abuse. FANDOMS i will not interact with blogs that write for harry p*tter, h*llaverse, tlou or attack on tit*n; this includes multimuses and AUs.

VERSES (tags tba!)