http://clockworkrepeat.livejournal.com/ ([identity profile] clockworkrepeat.livejournal.com) wrote in [community profile] trans_92011-07-08 08:45 pm

[ open ]

Today, she decides to spend a bit of time exploring. It's important, Homura thinks, to get her bearings straight. To familiarize herself with the passageways of this place, the ins and outs, to feel comfortable under the swell of Stacy breathing. It makes her feel small and trapped to be inside a being so huge, but it's okay. She just needs some time to adjust.

The first thing she does is head towards the city level. Once there, she dives down streets and alleyways and figures out how the place is set up. Observing the online network of this place has given her a map, which she follows. You might have noticed her there, walking around. Wandering isn't the word to use for what she does-- nothing Homura does is without purpose.

Moving through the city and figuring out the general size of it takes most of the day. She has yet to explore every nook and cranny, but that will come to her with time.

So she heads to another place that she'd heard of in passing, read on a map.

The main armory.

Weaponry was a practicality as well as something she held some interest in; bombs, rifles, handguns. At one point they'd frightened her, considering how illegal they are in her home country. But no longer. She instead takes some comfort in the familiar weight of a gun. It's something that never changes between timelines; a bullet is always so strong, a bomb made with this ratio of materials has this much firepower. It's good, to have some consistencies.

The technology here however is far beyond her wildest imagination. The weaponry is no different. Flipping through the holographic display, she finds things that are familiar to her and then things that are not. She looks through it all appearing at first rather stoic, but she's really quite interested-- and that's obvious in the way her eyes scan over each weapon that appears before going to the next. There's fondness too, as she sees something she recognizes. Something she's handled. It's something hard to really see, but it's there.

But isn't it a little odd to see a girl who looks only around fourteen years old so familiar and at home with weapons?

[identity profile] guardian-wakka.livejournal.com 2011-07-09 07:44 pm (UTC)(link)
There's someone else in here, but he hadn't noticed you yet, because you're much too quiet.

He has no idea how to run holomowhatever displays and has no idea how to make anything work and doesn't want to learn and has been spending his time with his face plastered to the glass, looking at what looks like an infinite number of weapons, desperately trying to look for a spiked deathball that he's missing.

And then things start moving around when you start moving them around. And this is both helpful and confusing, as he gets to see new things but he wasn't done looking at some of that stuff before it moved away and out of sight.

"Come back," he says, futilely, his face pressed into the glass, "I ain't done lookin' at that bit yet."

He still has no idea that you're in here, too.

[identity profile] guardian-wakka.livejournal.com 2011-07-09 10:10 pm (UTC)(link)
Wakka is sort of surprised that it came back.

"Why'd that happen," he said. He didn't understand. Unless... unless... the machina could hear him.

"... hey machina. You. You listening, ya?" he asked, his face still pressed to the glass, still looking at the rows and rows and rows of weaponry.

[identity profile] guardian-wakka.livejournal.com 2011-07-10 01:36 am (UTC)(link)
"It's talkin'!" said Wakka, thinking that the machina was now talking to him. "Who don't hear me, machina?"

[identity profile] guardian-wakka.livejournal.com 2011-07-10 03:03 am (UTC)(link)
Nope. Wakka is still standing there with his face pressed to the glass, looking in. "Who's over here?" he asks. What a strange name that is.

[identity profile] guardian-wakka.livejournal.com 2011-07-10 03:01 pm (UTC)(link)
THE MACHINA WAS TAPPING HIM ON HIS SHOULDER.

Wakka whirls around to look at... a little girl.

Oh.

"Oh, you ain't a machina, you're a girl."

She's a girl. Not a machina.

[identity profile] guardian-wakka.livejournal.com 2011-07-10 05:58 pm (UTC)(link)
"My blitzball," said Wakka. "It's missin' ya."

This man is clearly already clutching a slightly lumpy, blue-and-white ball to his chest.

[identity profile] guardian-wakka.livejournal.com 2011-07-10 07:55 pm (UTC)(link)
"Name's Wakka. You mean how to get it to move the stuff around?" Wakka asked.

Re: sorry for the late!

[identity profile] guardian-wakka.livejournal.com 2011-07-13 01:39 am (UTC)(link)
"Touch what?" said Wakka. "That machina thing?" he said, looking at it suspiciously.

[identity profile] guardian-wakka.livejournal.com 2011-07-13 03:12 am (UTC)(link)
"Don't like machina," replied Wakka.

Wakka, if he knew the term, would consider himself to be a Luddite.

[identity profile] guardian-wakka.livejournal.com 2011-07-13 04:12 am (UTC)(link)
Because he spent his entire life, up until about a week ago, believing that machines were the entire reason why the bane of his world came into being.

"Maybe you can do it for me. I'm lookin' for a blitzball."

[identity profile] guardian-wakka.livejournal.com 2011-07-13 09:28 pm (UTC)(link)
Machines got his brother killed.

"It's round and it's got blades all round the sides, ya," said Wakka. "It's called the World Champion, ya."