Lord-Governor Kang (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
governorkang) wrote in ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png)
trans_92011-12-31 11:00 pm
governorkang) wrote in trans_92011-12-31 11:00 pm
Entry tags:
Second chances at life lost [Bendytimed to post-plot]
There was a lot of cleaning up to do after SHODAN and her robot armies had been defeated. Among the structural damage was parts of the Drunken Dragon Tavern: the store room and everything in it had been utterly destroyed, the pots that had rarely been used on-ship were strewn around the kitchen, and a couple of tables, one bench and a chair, and a portion of the stage needed repairs. The building next door that Kang used for half of his storage and called home had managed to escape relatively unscathed.
He had sustained some damage himself, with a few minor cuts and bruises, and a rough hole slightly larger than an orange missing from the membrane of his right wing. It hadn't healed completely yet, and the bandages didn't hide it very well at all.
He had personal matters to attend to before reconstruction could begin, though. Two draconians had been killed in the pod caverns, two that he'd known personally; they had served under him for over thirty years when he'd been Commander of the First Dragonarmy Engineering Regiment. Unlike the others that had been killed, there was nothing left of them. Vlemess, as a kapak, had melted into a pool of acid, and Urul the baaz had turned to stone, and then dust.
It was customary, because of the nature of draconian deaths, to simply place a headstone along with any personal possessions that could be salvaged. Sakura had helped Kang procure two suitable stones from the wreckage of the Great Wall, and he'd decided to place them in the little herb garden Kali had started before she'd gotten repodded (said garden hadn't been cared for since). It was visible from the tavern, and he felt that it was appropriate to have them near a piece of home.
He knelt down to clear a space on the north side of the garden, digging shallow holes for Urul's belt and one of Vlemess's bracers. He'd gotten lucky in finding their few possessions in the lockers.
[OOC: He invited/mentioned it to anyone that he counts as family or a friend, but it's cool for others to stop by too if they'd like. Threadjacking is also encouraged!]
He had sustained some damage himself, with a few minor cuts and bruises, and a rough hole slightly larger than an orange missing from the membrane of his right wing. It hadn't healed completely yet, and the bandages didn't hide it very well at all.
He had personal matters to attend to before reconstruction could begin, though. Two draconians had been killed in the pod caverns, two that he'd known personally; they had served under him for over thirty years when he'd been Commander of the First Dragonarmy Engineering Regiment. Unlike the others that had been killed, there was nothing left of them. Vlemess, as a kapak, had melted into a pool of acid, and Urul the baaz had turned to stone, and then dust.
It was customary, because of the nature of draconian deaths, to simply place a headstone along with any personal possessions that could be salvaged. Sakura had helped Kang procure two suitable stones from the wreckage of the Great Wall, and he'd decided to place them in the little herb garden Kali had started before she'd gotten repodded (said garden hadn't been cared for since). It was visible from the tavern, and he felt that it was appropriate to have them near a piece of home.
He knelt down to clear a space on the north side of the garden, digging shallow holes for Urul's belt and one of Vlemess's bracers. He'd gotten lucky in finding their few possessions in the lockers.
[OOC: He invited/mentioned it to anyone that he counts as family or a friend, but it's cool for others to stop by too if they'd like. Threadjacking is also encouraged!]
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Sarcastic, yes, but he was actually trying to understand this.
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"One, we are not dragons, and two, technically we were all military from the day we hatched. Our first generation were adults by two years."
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"...Oh."
What the hell did you say to that?
"I was in the army for like... maybe three years and it was the shittiest thing of all time. So. Uh. I am really, really sorry about that like you have no idea."
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He sort of wanted to know how crazy brave you had to be to give any serious shit to a bunch of guys who looked like Kang did. Grif had been plenty disrespectful and defiant, sure, but there was a limit to even his blindness to terrible decisions.
"...Why did you tell me?"
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It was easy when the entire race was male, and had been raised by said humans to worship them. At least, until they'd wizened up and rebelled. "Tell you what, the truth? It's not like you couldn't find most of that in a history book if you really wanted to know."
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"You didn't have to. Look, I'm going to be serious with you for a minute. Or maybe less than that, whatever. I know I am pretty much an asshole. It's my life's calling or something. I'm cool with that. You could've just told me to go jump off the Vatican or something and I'd've left you alone."
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"...Really?"
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"...Okay. That's cool. I like being alive and this would not have been the first time somebody in charge of me was trying to kill me. So thanks?" He stretched his neck a bit; it was an awkward fidgeting thing.
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Being able to turn something into a joke helped him feel like he had a grip on things again. Grif knew where that road went, and it was comfortingly familiar territory.
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He looked back at the graves. Two people had died and they were bigger, tougher people than he was. He'd just been luckier, like he was luckier than the GIA soldiers he'd seen die on Lirath doing the same work he was. Grif could posture until the sun burned out, but he knew it was not any particular skill on his part that had kept him alive.
"Sorry about your dudes."
He was sort of repeating himself, but he was hoping this could be a reasonable means of leave-taking. He had some things to think about.
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