m-ebsen-blog

[m-ebsen-blog]

TIME: Early morning, May 11th LOCATION: Northern Woods @gwen-hayes / @paramedic-tom / @m-ebsen / @corrinalhalu

The cold nipped at his cheekbones as he walked towards the gathering group. It was overcast yet bright, though the clouds seemed to take shape in the distance as they drifted apart. Magnus peered at the sky and then let his eyes drift along the clearing, the row of trees moving gently in the mild breeze, the rest of his group preparing to go beyond the campgrounds. The scene before him felt charged with excitement and apprehension; he couldn’t tell where it was eminating from: Magnus or the others.

He moved past the others to stand near the front of the lineup. The gear strapped to his person was reasonably heavy, though not enough to slow Magnus down. A small backpack was fastened to his back with its straps wrapping around his torso, a slim utility belt was around his waist; carrying necessary tools and knives. A handgun rested against his thigh whilst he carried his machine gun, or let it hang from his shoulder.

Magnus patted down the various pockets and carriers of ammunition before checking and rechecking the weapons, safety on; safety off. With each task he mouthed along inaudibly, repeating the checklist in his head. As he reached its end, Magnus glanced up to find the group had grown in size and someone nearby was moving towards him. 

“Morning.” He gave them a somewhat cheerful smile, suppressing any trepidation he felt about their journey that day. The muscles in his shoulders had begun to prepare for the job he was hired to do and Magnus felt at peace in his role; at home. “You all set?”

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johanpetterson‌:

There was a shift in the conversation, a sudden faltering that had gone from easy to something with much more of an impact– he paused, wondering where he had gone wrong. Persia was never a good conversational subject, he learned long ago that most people got fidgety around it: the government had failed them, it was an indication that they could very well do it again. Magnus’ reaction however was like that of a door slamming shut and after he spoke, his first thought was easy. Who did you lose?

He allowed a pause to settle between them, looking away from a gaze that was searching for answers. In his throat, he felt a welling of something recognizable, an acrid mixture of guilt and shame. How are you here? The engineer kept his gaze by his shoes,  “Shattered my leg in a stupid accident about a month in. The medics weren’t properly prepared to deal with it, and I was replaceable.” Johan tucked in a breath. “My superiors called me back off world to recuperate. I was in Neos again when it happened.” 

He looked back at Magnus, the last question forcing a hard set of his jaw. “They were my team.” The whole of security had been under his watch and his mind drifted to all of those who hadn’t made it home. Connor, Tristan, Enid, Allison. It wasn’t just security that he’d drawn close to, but the entire mission. Persia was a gaping wound, his expression towards his companion indicated thus.

It became a balancing act – finding composure whilst confronted with the deepest sorrow of his past in front of a man he barely knew. It was rare for him to offer up this chapter of his book willingly. To be dependable and a leader in the field, Magnus had been forced to corner off the chaos and heartache her death brought on. Few had been able to coax out the grief-stricken parts of Magnus and he was reluctant in that moment still, but suspected Johan to be a man he could trust. A suspicion supported by the myriad of emotions he saw flash across the other man’s face; telling him they were both familiar with loss in significant ways.

“Thank God for small favours,” he said earnestly. The words were laced with melancholy, but also true gratitude for Johan’s well-being. He was often struck by how the random confluences of events that had such important outcomes. By the look on Johan’s face, however, he wasn’t entirely sure the other man felt any form of relief. He knew of the bond you form with your team, how their survival is intrinsically linked to yourself. “I’m sorry, Johan.” It was all he could muster, but Magnus hoped it was enough.

“I– I ask because you’re the only person I’ve met who was on the ground.” The emphasis on the last word hinted at his disapproval of the higher-ups who had so carelessly denied the aide from the safety of their control rooms. “I was supposed to be there but work– well, it forced me to stay on Meridian” Magnus spoke with some difficulty, “Josey, my wife. She never did have patience to wait.” He blinked at the tears beginning to form, smiling at the memory of her. 

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nacremcnamara‌:

Nacre generally wasn’t one for starting over, or second chances, or any of that, but only a week into a ten year contract maybe wasn’t the best time to be making enemies. If Magnus wanted to a fresh start – or at least, wanted to pretend to have one, to get along civilly for a while and see what happened – well, they could be amenable to that. For now. “McNamara,” they replied, glad he hadn’t tried to shake their hand as so many had. “Nacre McNamara.”

The compliment helped a little, even if they couldn’t tell how genuine it was. They weren’t really doing it to earn admiration, but admiration had never hurt. Few people appreciated that there were still things better done with human hands than with machines, things better examined with human eyes than digital sensors. Things you could feel, yourself, nuances that were lost to the mechanical age. 

     “I like to take care of my tools. I find them easier to trust, that way.”

He gave a courteous nod, grateful they chose to humour him. It was a small act but cast some hope on the years to come; where they would be, more or less, forced to become friendly – if only to keep the peace. Magnus ran through the files he’d perused, in his mind; connecting their face to the name. If memory served, they weren’t tied to the military like himself; not unlike what he’d assumed. He placed no value in either, simply noting it as fact.

“I feel the same,” Magnus shifted where he leaned, a smile tugging at his lips but not quite forming. Though human error was the culprit of many mistakes on the field, Magnus tended to prefer the human hand, especially his own. “Glad to see I’m not the only one.” 

“We rely on the machines enough these days.” The sentiment often gave way for comments on his old age, but Magnus held firm. He turned to a stack of ammunition lying out of place; sorting through them. 

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johanpetterson‌:

“Never know,” he said with a half smile, tucking in the last of his precious cigarette before flicking it off in the direction of the nothingness that surrounded their camp. It would fizzle out there, a small marker of human life that had invaded the planet. What was more of a human legacy than leaving behind trash? “It’s an alien planet, maybe they’ll evolve and start growing legs.” 

Johan nodded, finding nothing more to say about his stand in his military career. He had been good at what he had done– (wasn’t the best marker of that the fact that he was still there?) but it was also a chapter of his life that he had hoped to firmly shut the door on. Too many years had been lost being a service to someone else, too many were drenched in loss.

Had he of ruminated further in his own feelings, he would have missed the visceral reaction that seemed to ebb across Magnus’ features. Persia, Ballast, all the failed projects that had lead to nothing more than death and memories that ached. Johan forced a laugh. “I thought if I kept busy, I’d be able to bury it.” His brow raised at the sort of personal inflection that his companion used and it prompted a sort of curiosity. “I was on the team, my crew did security for Persia.”

The entrance of the tent opened to let out a group of people; their happy chattering and the murmurs from inside a stark change to the calmness between him and Johan. The group strode past them but soon disappeared to the darker, less lit part of the camp near their pods. Magnus stayed silent until they were gone, finishing his cigarette and flicking it towards the area where Johans’ own had landed.

Before he could begin to sequester that sadness that began to rumble, Magnus was brought back to the present moment with a sudden twist. It prompted his head to jerk toward Johan, brows creasing. “You were–” His throat closed up, suddenly dry and forced him to swallow. “You were on the team? How, I mean, how are you here?”

Words seemed hard to come by, feeling thrown for a loop. “I mean, the whole crew was lost.” Magnus schooled his impression as best he could, shoving his hands into his jacket for some false sense of armor. “Did you spend time with the others?” He asked quietly, voice shaky.

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nacremcnamara‌:

They checked a strap on their leg, one they habitually loosened when they sat because of the way it made their knee sit at an odd angle, tightening it back up before they pushed themself up to standing, letting the mechanism click and whirr into action so that they could take the gun back to the rack they’d pulled it from, lining it up with all the other one’s they had checked and cleaned and approved. A mental checklist, a note for where they’d stopped, which guns they’d be willing to grab and have enough faith in if worst came to worst any time soon. 

     “I think until we start getting orders aren’t set up some tents, haul some equipment around, we’ve got to make our own work to do,” they replied as they hooked it back on the rack and then turned themself around to face him again. “Not my fault you walked in at the wrong time, thought I was threatening you.” 

The anger in him slowly seeped out and made room for a need to start over, wipe the slate clean if possible. He stayed quiet as they moved around, putting away the weapon in its place. Magnus had made himself familiar with the names on the security team, but hadn’t put a face to each one just yet. As they turned back to him, Magnus held up his hands in a genuine gesture of good-will. “Maybe we should try this again?”

“I’m Magnus Ebsen.” He placed a hand on his chest, awaiting their name. The moment served to remind him of the many different people that travelled there with him; the stories and personalities forced to cooperate. Magnus felt compelled to ease the transition when he could. “And I’m impressed. It’s rare to see someone care for their weapons by hand these days.” 

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johanpetterson‌:

“Looks like I wasn’t the only one with a total disregard for my health in mind when we boarded,” Johan noted approvingly, taking another pull. “Watch out for the medical team, they’ve been chasing everyone down for the past few days to keep us all in peak form.” His nose wrinkled, “One of ‘em said I needed to shave to keep morale up.”

He let the silence stretch easily between them, Johan leaned his head back against the wall of the structure. “I’m not ashamed of it, it’s where I belonged.” Feet first into hell, it was tattooed onto arm, between other designs that meant nothing next to the phrase. The engineer lowered his hand, letting the cigarette trail a wisp of smoke in it’s descent, “Left two years after Persia.” His head rolled to catch Magnus’ gaze. “Thought I’d had enough.” 

“Hardly.” The work was demanding, life-threatening and unforgiving; it took a toll on your body and Magnus had come to find some vices did less harm than they offered a moment’s relief. “Thanks for the heads up.” Not that the medical team could do much if he failed to meet their standards; they were all stuck on the planet, after all. He gave a look of surprise then. “You’re joking,” he laughed incredulously, dragging the back of his hand along his own thick stubble instinctively. “I’ll be on the look out for any razors. Not that they’d get very far.”

Magnus tapped off the excess ash onto the ground. “I respect that.” He had never placed any stock in the hierarchy, other than to keep the order. The higher up the food chain you got, the greyer the area became. He supposed he could have climbed the ranks even further, but the thought of commanding troops from behind the scenes made Magnus’ skin crawl.

His cheek twitched at the name. Years ago, the mere mention of Persia had been enough to level Magnus; like a switch that flooded his senses with grief, incapacitating him. Though the memory of her was bright and clear; Magnus found the loss had been given its own quarters in his mind, no longer a constant reminder. “You lasted longer than me,” he said eventually. “It changed things, for a lot of us.” 

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kessalazar‌:

OPEN

Kes frowned at the scope in her hands, legs crossed, gaze intense with focus. She knew that the problem with the machine she’d taken apart was to be found within it, but she couldn’t place exactly what it was. An examination of the lens failed to produce the likely culprit, with the glass still entirely intact, but the subtleties of whatever was causing the laser to malfunction – she assumed there was a piece of sand or something jamming a gear up – were clearly extremely tiny, at least to the human eye. It frustrated her, and so, too, did the fact that a magnifying glass was no where to be found in the engineering tools Vodin had sent with them. Something which, in turn, meant she’d have to go see if one of the others on the mission did have one, or at least had something she could use to take a closer look. With a sigh, she uncurled her legs, stretching as she rose, carefully bagging the scope and sticking it in a pocket before setting off in search of any of the other people who called Arcadia home.

The first person she found upon exiting her tent was vaguely familiar, in appearance if not in name, and she hesitated, uncertain if interrupting whatever they were doing was the right course of action. But she did need that scope repaired, and doing it without some sort of aid would be an absolute pain in the ass… She had to talk to them.

“Hey! Uh, I hope I’m not interrupting somethin‘ important, but do you maybe have something I could use to magnify? There’s supposed to be a tool in engineering but I think someone borrowed it or something.” Her tone was cheery, but Kes was more than a little aware of the way her accent dropped the last letter of words, of how that signaled exactly what little education she’d received to anyone with an ear for such things. Not the best first impression, but she’d tried to stifle the hint of a drawl in her voice before, to little effect.

Though the skies were overcast; no outline of the clouds, simply a cover of grey; there was a intensely bright light drenching the camp. Magnus stood grimacing at the horizon, digging around in his pockets for sunglasses, as an engineer approached him with the tablet he’d asked for. It wasn’t time for exploration on foot yet, but Magnus had requested to see the atmospheric scans they had collected thus far – along with some heat signature stills he himself had taken of the surrounding forests. 

The sun cast glares in the tablet’s screen and and the darkened lenses he wore made it difficult to see clearly. As he searched for a less sunny spot, he allowed his eyes to travel the camp and its inhabitants. The worst side effects of their travel had passed and Magnus was pleased to see the group move between the structures with purpose, and with some ease.

The engineers’ tent cast a long shadow and Magnus opted for a seat on some crates stacked outside the entrance. He pulled up the most recent aerial views encompassing their camp and the nearby terrain. Switching on the hologram, Magnus tilted the tablet and scrolled through the files. The termographic scans hadn’t captured anything of note; a disappointment but not unexpected.

Having been completely zeroed in on the work, Magnus barely heard the woman approach. “Hey–” He glanced up with a blank stare before regaining some focus on reality. “No, no, you’re good.” Closing the application, he rested the tablet on his knees. At her request, he began patting down his jacket and cargo pants. “I’ve got some reading glasses?” Pulling them out, he offered an apologetic look. “I hear whiskey glasses are good for that, with the concave bottom and all that.”

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nacremcnamara‌:

     “Calm down,” they said, holding the gun up to show him its side, where the safety was clearly and visibly still on, no risk of accidentally firing a shot off at anyone. They were nothing if not disciplined: admiring a weapon didn’t mean they had to take the risk of shooting their own foot off, even if they wouldn’t feel it. 

Still, they set it down, on the table amidst the various cleaning supplies, the solvent and cleaning cloths. There were machines that could scan the weapons for any sign of wear and tear, but they preferred to do these things by hand. 

     “You a little gun-shy, there?” He was security, too, they knew, though they only vaguely knew his name. There were a couple of others on the security team they kept mixing up, all of a similar ex-military breed. “Nervous? I hear the doc’s got something for that, if you need it, sedative or some shit.”

Magnus barely let the annoyance he felt show in his expression, merely tilting his head back ever so slightly and sizing them up. Even as they suggested he relax, their lack of concern had him wincing. He no longer felt threatened, but the thought of anyone else being confronted by a weapon aimed at their face was worrying. In the early days of a colony, tensions were high and one wrong move could have catastrophic outcomes. Magnus wasn’t willing to risk it.

He moved further inside, rounding the table and staying closer to the walls. The table was covered with tools and rags. It wasn’t messy, however, Magnus could see they had a method to their work. “Gun-shy? No, not quite.” He huffed a dry laugh at the thought. He wondered if their goal here was to rile him up.

Magnus leaned back onto a locker, arms crossed. The initial upset he’d felt turned into something akin to defeat; too exhausted to carry on an argument that he expected they’d only find amusing. “What can I say, I think we have a responsibility that shouldn’t be tossed aside. I’d hate to see the others begin to doubt us.” 

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johanpetterson‌:

“The second I lose it, you’ll be the first I call.” Johan stretched, exhaling a lazy cloud of smoke into the starry sky. They hadn’t polluted the planet yet with light, not like Neos or Earth, the stars blinked back brightly. The outlines of planets stood out brightly, and he felt peace at the quietness of their new world. “If it’s not these, it’ll be something else.”

His brow raised, but still he reached into his jacket, indulging Magnus’ request. “Yeah, sure. Wish it was something stronger, but it was a bitch to even get these approved to bring up.” They hadn’t been– but Vodin was too far out of reach to discipline him for it. 

Johan nodded. Lieutenant. It made sense, given the other man’s stance and experience. The question flipped back and he snorted. “I served almost sixteen years.” He tapped his ash, wondering if he’d hear complaints about pollutants on the planet’s surface tomorrow. “Never ranked higher than Sergeant.” He wasn’t bitter about it, it suited him– he was a helljumper, better on the ground.

Apart from the murmur from within the tent and the water splashing gently onto the shore, Magnus was struck by the silence that surrounded them. It was an entirely new atmosphere, however familiar the planet was and at moments like these, he was faced with the reality of their new lives. He hummed in agreement with Johan and accepted the cigarette with a nod of thanks.

He fished out a lighter from his jacket pocket and lit it up. “Don’t worry, I’ve got a stash in my pod that I’ll pay you back with.” Magnus smirked and took a drag. It felt wrong, mixing the utterly pure air with smoke in his lungs. But he couldn’t find it in him to care; his priorities elsewhere.

“I thought as much.” The man had the posture of a soldier and it put Magnus at ease. Any misgivings he had of the government he’d served didn’t extend to the people he served with; the ones who got the worst of it when things went sour. “That’s no small feat, you shouldn’t sell yourself short.” He surveyed the area around them, more out of habit than concern. “16 years. Did you have a late start or leave early?” Magnus asked, taking note of Johan’s age.

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johanpetterson‌:

Johan shrugged, taking a pull from his cigarette before smiling crookedly. “It’s a shame for you, Ebsen– you’re gonna need all the beauty sleep you can get.” His gaze fell to the gun at the other man’s side, catching the way that he let his fingers graze upon it. He wondered if this habit was ingrained now, that even off duty he found himself reaching for a weapon that was always there. It was something that he had feared for himself, another reason he had left the military.

“Doesn’t matter how many times I do it, cyro’s still a bitch.” Johan stretched, glancing back over. They had ten years together, and it prompted him to engage conversationally. “What were you doing before this?”

Magnus couldn’t stifle a smile at the playful jab. He feigned being hurt, hand on his heart as he grimaced. “We don’t all have our youth, handsome. Call me when you’ve got a few years on you.” The easiness between them had Magnus relaxing some, leaning back onto the frame as Johan was. “Those things’ll kill you,” he said on command as the cigarette smoke reached him. 

He breathed in, smiling impishly. “Got another one?” It was a habit he had tried to squash once or twice, but it never quite took. Still, he was mindful of the amount; careful not to allow it to affect how well he performed at his work. 

“Before this? Private military contractor.” Magnus scratched at his jaw as he paused, the title disagreeing with him still. “Before that, Lieutenant. Military,” he classified. “Like you, I’m assuming?” They had yet to delve into their lives prior to this, but Magnus felt sure enough the other man had spent some time in a uniform himself.

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johanpetterson‌:

“I’m no doctor,” Johan drawled, leaning against the frame that made up the recreational building. “But I feel like throwing us right into sixteen hour work days right after a month of cyro is really bad for the body. I’m on Neos time, I’m basically jet-lagged still.” He gestured up, towards his companion. “Anyways, how’re you feeling?”

The volume of the people inside the tent wasn’t bad by any means, but Magnus had felt a need to sweep his eyes along the clearing once more. A pleasant breeze met him as he left the structure; not too cold but a welcomed change. He barely moved a few feet before a voice caught his attention. Glancing back, Magnus tilted his head at the familiar face. “You have a point, but I doubt they’re concerned with our beauty sleep.” 

He joined Johan’s side, hand resting on his holster absentmindedly, eyes wandering along the edge of the forest. “Me? I’m fine. My body’s used to the wear and tear by now. For better or worse.”

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nacremcnamara‌:

     ( open )

Still unfamiliar with the people they’d be sharing a home with now, Nacre had taken to spending what little time they had free doing something very familiar: hunkered down somewhere near weapons storage, they were cleaning guns, making sure that the long transit here hadn’t left any parts rusted or jammed, disassembling each individual one to check for any flaws. The one currently in their hands, its last piece finally snapped back into place, was nice, and even with the safety on they aimed down the sight just to get the feel of it in their hands– 

                             –and directly at somebody headed right their way.

     “I’m not going to shoot you,” they called, their voice as dry and close to humor as it came as they watched the figure warily approaching them, but they didn’t set the gun down, not yet. “Long as you don’t get too close, at least.”

There was a sense of trepidation lingering in Magnus’ chest, still there since they had first touched ground. It left him wound tight, shoulders squared and ready for their apparent safety to give way for some unknown danger. It had become his default way of handling any situation, long before they brought him in for this job. Dropping the ball was never an option when lives depend on you staying on task and on alert. He knew what role he played in the survival of this colony and the weight of it rested firmly on his shoulders. 

Magnus knew the abrupt and extreme change of scenery that they all faced needed solid ground to lean on and as such he found himself building up routines; even outside of those that were expected of him. After each perimeter sweep, he would check the weapons storage. The coldness of the guns and the smell of the room offered some familiarity. 

The barrel aimed at him had Magnus reach for his own weapon, but opted to simply lay his hands on its shape; leaving it snugly tucked into his holster. He ground his teeth before responding, assessing the situation. The safety was on. “Hey, what’re we playing at here? Let’s put the gun down.” He stayed put, raising one hand as in surrender. “You alright?” 

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               “I remember                my childhood                as a wish                to be elsewhere.”                — Louise Glück

FULL NAME: Magnus Ebsen PRONUNCIATION: MAHNG-nuhs Eb-sen NICKNAME(S): Ebsen, Nomad, Boss BIRTH DATE: April 27th, 2240 PRONOUNS: He/Him SEXUALITY: Demisexual

BIRTHPLACE: Westby, MT, USA ETHNICITY: Danish, Swedish PARENTS: Bjørn Ebsen, Thea Ebsen (neé Claesson) SIBLING(S): None SPOUSE/S.O.: Josey Miner (deceased)

CAREER: 

Second Lieutenant, UN (2270-2275)

First Lieutenant, UN (2275-2289)

Private Military Contractor (2289- )

Security Detail, Arcadia Project (2294- )

SKILLS: Marksmanship, reconnaissance and military strategy SHORTCOMINGS: Struggles with administrative jobs. Prefers to command a smaller squad and stay in the field; has no patience for bureaucracy.  LANGUAGE(S) SPOKEN: English, Danish, Swedish, some Spanish and Mandarin

>>>>>>

If successful, Arcadia will become one of the first non-government operated off-world colonies. To ensure its success, we seek dedicated individuals who demonstrate faith in our cause. What is your opinion of the Vodin Company and its pursuits?

Magnus dragged the steel chair out and sank down on its hard seat. He leaned back and adopted an easy stance. The harsh shine from the fluorescent lights above reflected in the impeccably clean surface of the table in front of him. The nondescript features of the room left him tense; it was a glaring change of scenery. Once he’d taken note of the small space, Magnus focused on the interviewer. They weren’t playing games; that much was apparent. “I’d say it’s about time someone else got their hands dirty,” he smiled humorlessly, “so to speak.” Magnus paused and chose his words carefully. “I see the importance of our colonies, I think Vodin would agree.” After Persia, the once pristine image he’d had of his government had collapsed along with the colony. Magnus was hesitant to afford his loyalty to another faceless command. “Whoever might be running the ship, I’m here to keep it afloat.”

Each member of the project, along with yourself, has been offered a non-negotiable ten-year-minimum contract. Our limited resources will not allow for you to travel back to Earth. What are you leaving behind by joining us? How do you think you will cope with this separation?

He glanced down, amused by the idea of him suffering any separation. “That won’t be an issue.” Magnus rubbed the back of his neck. It wasn’t nerves that had him fidgeting, rather an excess of energy that was being suppressed. “Earth wasn’t more than a birthplace and as for what I will be leaving behind? Well,” He huffed a laugh and leaned forward; hands clasped underneath the table. “I was at the military’s beck and call for, uh, 30-odd years. Before I went into the private sector. Never been much room for settling down or growing roots.”

Magnus sat up, head tilting as he shrugged. “I’m content offering up my last years to a worthy cause, which I’m inclined to believe this is.”

How did you find yourself in your chosen professional field? Describe how much experience you have in this specialty.

“How much time do we have?” Magnus felt the heft of the past decades on his shoulders. It was a consistent weight that offered both comfort and some unwanted baggage. What he remembers of home are barren fields and an empty stomach. He used to sit perched on a rickety fence near their ramshackle of a house, watching father’s horses; gaunt yet beautiful; as they walked the grounds. It had been a ranch, though Magnus never quite knew what that had meant. The sickness and pollution had brought the small town to its knees. Magnus was no more than 17 when he’d enlisted, desperate to flee the death of his home. “I enlisted when I was a kid. I’ve spent most of my career on the ground, in the thick of it. Lieutenant for uh, 14 years before I left.”

“I’m guessing you’ve got a decent grasp of my work history there but,” he nodded at the folder by their hands before continuing. “I oversaw a few squads, was brought in to advise on some colony projects for the UN.” He listed them off in an almost blase manner, not one for counting milestones or medals.

And of course, tell us what made you decide to join the Arcadia Project? What are you hoping to accomplish, if anything?

“Some years ago now, I received news of transmissions sent out from Persia. I was still with the UN at the time and got to hear some of them myself.” Magnus felt the static messages echo even now, as he broke eye contact with the other person. “Friends of mine were part of the colony.” He chose not to continue on, wanting to maintain his composure. “It set about some changes in my life, which lead me to this moment. I’ve done some private work, none of it more than a way to earn a living.” He leaned back, crossing his legs under the table; its cold edge dragging at his thigh before he settled.

What are you hoping to accomplish, if anything?

“I’m in it for the bigger picture. I’m not here to accomplish anything, I’ve checked most of the boxes on my bucket-list.” If he ever had one. Magnus doubted his time alive had not been one long escape from some unknown, bleak possible fate. “The goal here is to find success on Arcadia. I have the knowledge and experience. I’m qualified to keep this colony safe, whatever the cost.”

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Mads Mikkelsen by Stephan Vanfleteren 

for Le Monde (in Cannes 2018)

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ALIEN: COVENANT // Aesthetics

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