etraya | text, un: hawkeye

i think our limits are supposed to decide what happens to us and our worlds. if everything isn't a lie.

but you think there's something off about the cities and ai set up? i thought it was just easier to manage groups of people

call me paranoid but i don't think anyone in the business of kidnapping groups of people from their worlds for the express purpose of judging them is inherently trustworthy.

in this situation, being paranoid isn't a bad thing. you've said some things that i haven't thought about as possible. not a lot feels possible to me right now except deciding my limits.

i don't know that i want to decide my limits.

you're either going to have to take the time to choose them of your own volition, or you're going to be forced into deciding them at the worst possible time.

i'd recommend taking the time to think about who you are and what you want your limits to be.

[ There's a small delay before: ]

yeah. you're right. i should.

( a pause that manages to be a little longer, and then— )

how old are you?

[ uh oh he's getting asked his age. ]

17

( well, that explains one or two of the responses. )

look, it's not like you need to figure out everything all in one go, but it's good to get a feel for what's right by you.

and what's right by you at 17 isn't necessarily what's going to be right by you in another 15 or so years.

i think it gets complicated when your friends and family are on the line. school was hard but i had a good idea of who i wanted to be and what i wanted to do.

but if any of this is true then i could be putting them in danger. and getting another world destroyed for mine. but i know that there's a chance i can't make a difference no matter what i do?

it could all be a lie. but it would help if we could see what the truth is or a possibility to change it.

[ He doesn't want to hurt his friends in the long term, his parents. What's the right answer? Could he be ruthless if that's what it took?

For all his thinking, it's very hard to do. ]

we've all got friends and family on the line, kiddo. i know how complicated it can get.

if we're being told the truth, then they're gonna be in danger regardless. if it's not you representing your world, then it's going to be someone else. but having been in a boat that looks just like this one more than once, i can say there's always another option. it might not be obvious, but it's always there.

[ ... ]

okay, i'll keep that in mind. i want to believe it.

( so does he. )

name's clint, by the way.
if you ever need a sounding board for figuring things out.

[ Oh. ]

i would like that, thanks.

my name's gorgug. can i ask you more about your time here in etraya and what you've done? in private?

sure, kid.
( wait. )
gorgug.

send me a message, or else i stay at that brownstone you can see across the way from the cafe.
top floor, apartment with the 'H' above the door.

[ He was thinking through the network, but--maybe in person is good? He doubts it'll make a difference to anything (he's not sneaky, not paranoid enough to look at an in-person meeting as a positive), but... ]

i'll visit. thanks.

[ Padme told him to get to know people. It's good. It's good speaking practice, too.

So he makes the travel from one set of apartment buildings to another (possibly having to deal with the fact there's no bridge connecting to the two isles, BUT THAT'S OK HE HAS FANTASY JUMPING BOOTS), half-cursing the way everything is laid out in Etraya, but he's committed himself to the journey, and anyway: he's been given a lot to think about in the conversation with Clint. Things that had already been roiling in his head, but even more so.

He wants to be optimistic. He desperately wants that hope. He should change his frame of mind, and make it easier to carry.

At least he can be glad that nobody (hopefully) witnesses him navigate an apartment building that doesn't seem full, lively (nothing ever does in Etraya), lost and awkward in that way one is anywhere new that they're not sure they should be. Making his way up, always feeling out of place, but being sure not to let himself slouch as he finds the door with the H above it, knocking carefully on the door, or pressing the buzzer if it has one.

And if Gorgug hasn't landed in an alternate universe or just been very unlucky, Clint will hear a sound, and be able to open his door to a 6'6" half-orc dressed in the most teen fashion of a hoodie and jeans, yellow eyes set against black sclera with crow's feet wrinkles beside them, and a half-wince that's aiming to be a smile against tusks protruding from the sides of their mouth.

Please no dumping him in an alternate universe on his walk over, Etraya.... ]

( clint, too, hates the way everything is laid out in etraya. it's inconvenient in every which way except for the one that means clint is forced to keep up-to-date with almost every change to the city, simply by virtue of there being no other means of traversal.

(maybe he'll ask aurora for his skycycle one of these days, or else one of the motorbikes he used to own—.)

he's not doing much of anything when there's a knock at his door — in truth, he hadn't expected gorgug to come so soon, but logic dictates it's not bobbi (she wouldn't knock) and it's not kate (she might knock, but she'd also walk in immediately afterwards, making the process of knocking all but pointless). no, when the knock happens, clint is all but sprawled out on his sofa, mindlessly flicking between watching one of the movies repeated every day on his tv, and the network.

it's enough that he's startled when the knock occurs, enough that it takes him a moment to register than no-one's stepping inside and therefore, he needs to get up and answer the door. when he does, whatever he'd been expecting from gorgug, what he gets clearly isn't it.

surprise, clear and obvious and lightly questioning, sits in his expression, although it soon gives way to realisation. (oh, right—). it's not often clint has to look up at anyone, even if there are only a handful of inches in it, but it's the thing — aside from the green — that takes most of clint's immediate attention. )

Uh, hey. ( a breath of a pause. ) Gorgug, right? ( where gorgug is TEENAGER, clint embodies MID-THIRTIES. dishevelled, mussed blonde hair, a subtle air of TIRED accompanied by a lingering smell that suggests he drinks a lot of coffee; a t-shirt — purple — and a pair of cuffed cargo pants that suggest he's wearing them both for utility and comfort. he waves his hand, loose and dismissive, before turning to head back inside. )

C'mon in.

( the interior says that this wasn't something that aurora came up with on her own, says that this is probably clint's. (hence, perhaps, the 'H' above the door). it's an open-plan loft apartment, with walls that are a pale, pale lavender, a bow on the wall above the sofa, a couple of well-used targets in front of the windows (featuring, naturally, purple curtains).

on the kitchen island is a (purple) mug of half-finished coffee that clint gravitates towards, picking it up purely out of habit before turning back to gorgug. )

Don't worry about shoes.

Edited 2024-08-17 19:05 (UTC)

Hi. [ He manages to get that out, right around when his name is asked, with a nod and a flicker of something--uncomfortable, his gaze shifted for the moment when Clint's expressions could be read for anything. Certainly the unexpected, and Gorgug's used to that. Still feels awkward about it, in this bubble filled mostly by humans.

Nevertheless, Gorgug follows on in, a splash of dark amongst the very softer colour scheme. Makes sure to close the door behind him, to then be faced by his first hurdle when he stops at what Clint says last.

Shoes. His eyes go down. Don't worry about them? So, don't worry about... ]

--Keep them on? Okay. Thanks. [ We sure hope we got that one right because it hadn't even crossed Gorgug's mind to take them off.

He lurks somewhere midway between Clint and the way he's come, more willing to move towards the kitchen and its islands if there's chairs, but also not wanting to assume Clint's final destination, and figuring, anyway, he should first say more before assuming anything. He asked to speak to Clint. He should do some speaking.

So: ] Thank you for seeing me. I've been here a month or two-- I showed up on a spaceship, and then I went to Moorecroft with everyone else. My friends have told me about the missions they've been involved in, but I guess I...wanted to know about any others they weren't here for, and anything you know about Etraya. And Aurora?

[ His gaze doesn't keep well, isn't overly wandering, but slinks in that way when someone thinks they're looking at someone for too long, but redirects it back so as to not be rude, and it settles back onto Clint at mentioning Aurora. ]

It sound like you've talked to her over time. You said she's changed. [ He pauses, then gives a shrug, gaze lowering again--but again, in that awkward teenager way. ] I wanna know I know everything.

( clint's not especially precious about the interior of his apartment, partly due to an upbringing that'd lent itself to that being a second-thought and partly due to the fact that worrying about that'd simply be an added stress he doesn't have time for.

he stays in the kitchen — it's the first quote-unquote room to the apartment — and though gorgug's discomfort doesn't escape him, he doesn't do anything special to set him at ease. instead, he leans against the kitchen island, mug half-raised to his mouth, as gorgug speaks. it's—

—not quite the spiel he's used to from teenagers. it's a little less certain, a little less sure, and clint doesn't miss the way that gorgug's gaze shifts from clint to apartment and back again, like he's trying not to be rude and hasn't quite decided how best to manage that. abruptly, as gorgug tails off, as he mentions aurora and talks about wanting to know "everything", clint winces. his coffee's cold, and cold coffee is uniquely shit.

he mms, the noise serving as acknowledgement more than anything else before he turns away, towards the sink. cold coffee down the drain, then a fresh pot on, and then they can talk—.

and so he doesn't answer gorgug's questions, not yet. instead, he looks over his shoulder back at him, and asks—. ) Coffee? Water? Don't really have much else. ( much else is beer in the fridge, but gorgug's a kid and so it doesn't, for obvious reasons, get mentioned. he doesn't, either, move to take a seat at the island despite the chairs — gorgug can, although clint doesn't explicitly invite him to, he's not used to the necessity. it's not a deliberate lack of politeness, it's just being used to people with a certain inherent demand and command to them. )

What d'you wanna start with? Etraya or Aurora?

[ For his energy, he doesn't get more anxious, standing there without direction or from losing Clint's attention temporarily. He's been thinking about his hands at his sides, how he'd like it more if he'd worn his tools sash and could hold onto it, but doesn't, finds a place in his hoodie to shove them instead.

Also? He's staying exactly where he is. Gorgug: didn't think to take off his shoes, but also doesn't think to invite himself any farther inside this apartment without permission. ]

Water's fine. [ --but he'll take that invitation, tone appreciative, and he will see where the drink goes. Down on a counter or held out, because either indicates that he should come over to wherever it is, than to keep Clint waiting, or to ignore it.

For now: where to start? He does consider it, just a moment, and: ] Etraya. That seems important.

[ Or with more to be said. ]

( coffee for clint, then, and a glass of water for gorgug. the glass is placed at the edge of the island, an unsaid invitation to sit down. etraya's a good place to start, he thinks, and his gaze shifts to one side, towards a curtain against the wall.

fine. fine.

the cup of coffee he's just poured is placed back down with a soft thud, a dribble running down the side onto the side. it's ignored in favour of the curtain, which clint draws apart to reveal a corkboard half-filled with newspaper cuttings, a handful of polaroids of buildings, mostly, a hand-drawn map, and sticky notes of what is, frankly, an atrocious, nigh unreadable scrawl.

(unless your name's 'clinton francis barton'.) )

Four months. ( give or take. one of the first things he's done on arrival was to search out a calendar — or something close to it — to try and figure out when he was. etraya had proven not to have a calendar one-to-one to earth, but close enough, a kind of off-brand, budget version of the names of the month. ) Arrived with the second group. They'd been here about a month, so Etraya's about five months old, I guess. Maybe six. Depends on how long it took Aurora to piece it together. It was pretty empty when we got here — the hospital, which is where most of us woke up, the apartment buildings near the hospital, the Kwik—. ( an abrupt pause. ) Kwik-Trip? ( kwik-save? whatever, it's not important. ) Roxx. The diner. That was pretty much it.

( it'd sucked. it'd been boring. clint has never done well with being left to his own devices, which in part is why he'd started to pull together the corkboard.

that, and the hope that it'd give some kind of information as to what was really going on. )

The rest of it, all the other buildings, are stuff that's familiar to someone here in some shape. Asked Aurora 'bout it one time, and it's one of two things: either she provides it, free of charge, to provide— ( clint gestures, broadly and vaguely with a hand. ) "Comfort", or else it's somethin' someone asks for, and that costs points.

( he pauses there, the question of 'do you know what 'points' are?' sitting unasked in the momentary silence between them. )

[ Gorgug moves over to the island with the drink now upon it, gives a thanks--he doesn't mind giving those, apparently--and slowly takes a seat, like there's still the possibility he's making the wrong move. Figuring now that words will come, the time for him to listen, and that does, except--

a corkboard first, dressed up so well that Gorgug's eyes widen. Oh. Riz would like this-- Riz would like this very much. The thought of his friend is buzzing in his head, and how this moment would be gold for him. Why isn't he here? He should be here instead. Would love this, be jumping right up and over to take everything in.

Unlike Gorgug, who doesn't rise upon the sight of the piece and its attachments. He stays seated, eyes flitting between it and Clint when the man starts speaking at first, but eventually landing on him to keep his attention on, the trickle of information. Five or six months, fewer amenities, buildings for comfort free or purchased. Points. ]

She took points for some books and materials I asked for, and wanted points for a gun. [ But he's thinking about that now, the fact that people have gotten buildings with or without asking. ] --Are you unlucky if she doesn't make you a building for free?

[ You can't ask for it, and get it for free. And by the question, the frown and wrinkle of his brow, Gorgug has the look of someone who didn't get a winning scratch card.

where's his free building???? ]

( the corkboard is, for all intents and purposes, the most organised clint barton tends to get, even if his apartment isn't untidy. there are hints as to his propensity for it, for when it gets the better of him — or when his life becomes busy enough that keeping his apartment tidy drops to the bottom of his priorities — in the small yet haphazard collection of discarded coffee mugs scattered about the apartment, the newspapers shoved to one side on the small table next to the sofa, the arrows laying in a pile across the top.

he pulls a face when gorgug mentions asking for a gun, his gaze dropping to give gorgug a once-over, curious and considering and, just a little, judgemental, like he's trying to work out what gorgug would want a gun for. what he'd do with a gun.

it's not like he's inherently opposed — he's dated spies! married one! — but guns are impersonal. they make it easy.

instead of saying that, instead of asking about the gun, he says— ) She and I, we got into semantics about my bow. I asked for it, she said it wouldn't be the same thing, blah blah, it'd be a copy. Seems to me like she deducts points for things that serve a purpose, and gives us stuff that serve an emotional need. I did try and argue that my bow's very comforting to me, but she didn't seem to buy it.

( all of this is to say, really, that, ) Which is what I reckon it comes down to more than luck. ( a breath of a pause in which clint returns to his coffee, glancing at the circle of wet it leaves behind as he picks it back up. eh, whatever, he'll deal with it later. ) And there's a whole lot more of us than there were when I got here. I figure she's having to split her attention more, having to be more selective. It's not like Etraya's gotten bigger as the population increases.

[ Gorgug misses any judgment--if there's anything to be read, he's distracted by his own speaking, his thoughts moving onto luck and not luck. But the disappointment that had been waiting in the back of his throat doesn't come, deflated even by Clint's words, about Etraya getting bigger, Aurora's attention being split.

It's hard to be grumpy towards her after recent conversations. Offers, even. ]

If Moorecroft's older, then maybe that's how they do it--start smaller, then keep growing... unless it's what the AIs think. I didn't ask Eos if she always ran it the way she did, but she said she liked it the way it was. Thought it worked best. [ ... ] She could've come to that over time.

[ After who knows how long--he really didn't ask as much as he wishes he had now. Focused too much on the current culture. ]

Etraya seems like Aurora's still figuring things out. [ So Gorgug says after a beat, and hopefully Clint knows what he means without explaining, sharing instead: ] I said it would be good if she asked what we wanted-- she asked me for my ideas after I talked about Moorecroft, and I thought there's places people can hang out and get to know each other, if that's what she wants. That's what I thought after the beach hang out and the bracelet trade.

[ Eos was focused on building community--Aurora seems to be the same. ]

( it's occurred to clint that he hadn't done quite as much exploring and questioning in moorecroft as he'd have liked to, retrospectively speaking. he doesn't know if clint and bobbi being assigned to the same family, being assigned as husband and wife was deliberate, or—. no, scratch that, he's certain it'd been deliberate, but what he's not certain about is why. had it been at attempt, foolish and pointless, to try and get them to reconcile? they've done that dance time and time again, and as much as clint would like—.

it's not going to happen. it always end in tears.

the other option, of course, was that it'd been a distraction. something that he'd been guaranteed to focus on rather than moorecroft himself. and if that'd been the aim, well, it'd worked.

that and the jobs. maybe that was the point of those, too, more then, or even just as much as, the community aspect. it's hard to spend time fucking around and making a nuisance of yourself if you're working forty hours a week. if you're tired from the day-to-day mundanity of your life.

those are the thoughts that don't get vocalised as gorgug speaks, his brain picking at the occasional remark. )

—Aurora said they're all free to run their cities in whatever way works best for the citizens under their care. Said that she's still gettin' to know us and what works best for our comforts during our time with her. ( their time with her. the implication that it's finite, despite moorecroft being around for years. he knows he'd said it earlier, but it'd been without the additional context of the broader conversation and what clint had been trying to get at with asking it.

he's not quite dumb enough to think that aurora can't hear what they're saying even when they're not wearing the earpieces, but he does think there's more security to be had in a private conversation held in person. ) Said, too, that she's designed to learn from her actions and inactions, and Eos was designed to "evolve" and learn from her experiences.

( a breath in, a sip of coffee and a quirk of his lips. it's almost a smile. ) Which is the long way of saying — sure. I'd put money on Moorecroft having looked a lot like Etraya when it first started out. It was probably those first few arrivals that had an effect on the look of the place and how Eos runs it.

—And, uh, not as part of this conversation, can't even remember how it came about. ( no, he can, it was because they'd been talking about his brother—. ) But she's got a full history on all of us. Knows about our childhoods, conversations we've had, relationships we've had. All of it.

[ He's thinking as Clint speaks, listening to him and them finally getting into the conversation putting Gorgug in a certain kind of ease: their situation isn't seen any better, that hope he had been wringing himself over believing on the way over not any more cemented. There's no full picture to be found, even over the text, that much was obvious; but there are lines being etched into what's visible, even if they're sketchy, without colour. Maybe it's just nice to get to talk to somebody else about, as much as Gorgug appreciates his friends.

It's been that nagging worry he'd expressed to Padme about who they can trust, how much they can depend on others when they were being put into competition. It's so easy to fall in your own groups--it's so easy to suspect people you don't know.

And who can blame them, when home is on the line? (Could he be ruthless?)

Nothing about this should be comfort, and Gorgug still sits on the island chair, hands loosely wrapped around the glass, but it's close enough. He isn't lost in his own head, even when he does think; and think he does when Clint last speak what he does, and Gorgug's eyes widen slightly--then look away, thinking, trying to know what that means to him. Is there anything there in his history he cares about her knowing? What does knowing him mean?

--Oh. He looks back at him, realisation in his gaze. ]

She knew I wanted to know how to build her companion bots. [ But-- unless? The creases by his eyes wrinkle in doubt. ] I asked her where they came from, and... I could've asked her how she fixes them before she said that...

[ Now is he being the paranoid one? He only remembers being surprised, not expecting it, but he can't help but to second-guess himself. Still, even with a sheepish note to it: ]

She said she'd teach me.

[ A sheepish, happy note. ]

text, un: hawkeye

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