vatheon | (no subject)

Who: The Psiioniic and...?
Where: primarily Larmline apartments
When: 3/18 throughout the day
Status: Open

[ The routine of a Helmsman usually involves more powering interstellar space travel and unspeakable agony. In the bubble-city of Vatheon, however, it is a slow and surprisingly calm routine for the most part.

The Helmsman makes breakfast for three or maybe even four, just in case. He takes a cup of tea up with him as he checks on his bees, assures their health, and spends an hour or two up on the rooftop. Back down to the hive to watch television of dubious quality, then make lunch, and back to those shows that really don't make much sense at all. It's serious business, the study of human culture via television programs.

It's odd how often Vatheon Shore seems to come on, too.

A few hours like that, back to the bees, and back down again. Run the occassional errand, never going terribly far from the hive, and then it's dinner. All the while, his thought bubble is just a stream of incomprehensible code.

At some point, he might even talk to people. ]

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

[Of course the Helmsman can play too! Everyone knows that him and Darkleer are the Awkward Team national champions in Vatheon. ]

[Putting his device away, Darkleer clasps his hands together on his knee and puts on his best straight face.]

I wanted to... apologize for the wretched state you found me in not too long ago. It was rather disgraceful for someone like myself.

[ Together they will awkward all over the entirety of the bubble! ]

You do not need to apologithe to me, thir. You know thith.

It is only proper.

[H-Huff! Gosh, this is so obvious, Helmsman, come on.]

How has your status been so far?

Phythical improvement may have plateaued. Programming continueth to deteriorate-- notithably enough that Orphaner Dualthcar hath commented.

I see. We will continue to work on your physical issues; we don't want you to deteriorate in that area. There's not much we can do for your programming, unless we were to build a Helmsman station proxy, I suppose.

[Which Darkleer really would rather not, but, well... His thought bubble is a bit more revealing. He's been mulling over a station that would actually allow free will, and not be so painful a process, and the designs are more than obvious, constantly being tweaked and changed in his head.]

[Getting up, Darkleer walks over to Helmsman with his hand on his chin.]

How has the Orphaner been treating you?

[ He flinches a little, dropping his gaze. He knows enough to recognize a helmsman station, certainly, but the designs flicker through the man's thought bubble in a way that brings him a great deal of trepidation.

He can't see that Darkleer rather wouldn't, after all. ]

Ath ith appropriate for hith thtathion, thir. He hath not offered any harm to me.

[A narrow eyed glare behind his glasses. The schematics are interrupted, briefly, by the image of Dualscar being hanged.]

How else has he been treating you?

Within hith underthtanding of proper parameterth, thir.

[ Still not looking up. He was supposed to have told Dualscar to leave his horns alone as per engineer's orders, but had never actually managed it. ]

Ah.

[Slowly, he relaxes.]

Good. [...Great, now what is he supposed to say?] Your bees are looking well.

They are. [ He perks up just a little at that. ] The curtheth of Vatheon have left them unharmed.

That is a blessing, then. You take exceptionally good care of them. It is quite impressive.