etraya | text, un: hawkeye

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text, un: hawkeye

so is pass and fail just a judgment on our performance, or do we reckon it's gonna come back and bite us in the ass in the future?

aurora said she missed us, by the way. ( those are not the words she used. ) she also said that she and eos are free to run their cities in whatever way works for the people under her care, as long as we're well-taken care of.

but, thing is, she gets to define that. says she gets to learn from her actions and inactions in relation to us.

which is something to keep in mind when we're acting as a group or not acting as a group and trying to get answers, or choosing which rules are okay to break and which rules are okay to stretch.

because between here and moorecroft, right now i'd say we've got the better end of the deal.

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( clint's not that precious.

he knows what it's like to be doubted and to be distrusted, to have people expect the worst of you because of your reputation, because of your history, because of their understanding of actions chosen for reasons they have no real want to understand.

he's not interested in pushing anyone to one side, to ignoring them, to thinking the worst of them without reason. everyone deserves a chance, even if what that chance looks like entirely depends on who they are. no two people are the same, and all that. sure, he can be short and blunt and argumentative; he can be contrary and dismissive, but between all of it, he gives a shit.

his eyebrows knit together as gorgug half-starts and doesn't quite finish three separate sentences until, finally, clint pieces together what gorgug means. aurora knew about gorgug's interests and proclivities before he'd really mentioned them.

clint exhales, a sudden burst of air through his nose. it's almost a laugh because yeah, that tracks. she'd known all about clint and his archery, even if clint hadn't been shy about it. )

It'd be smart to take her up on it, ( he comments, gaze fixing on gorgug, blue eyes seeking out yellow. ) The more we can keep her on side, the better. And—.

( he turns away and disappears towards the lounge, stopping by the sofa to pick up one of the arrows before returning to gorgug and placing it next to him atop the kitchen island. the fletching is purple (shocking, truly), but the tip—.

it's not a traditional arrow shape at all. it's cylindrical, made of a lightweight metal with grooves. clint would never invite anyone else to make arrows for him, he enjoys it too much, it's part of who he is a part of being hawkeye, but—. )

Knowing how they work means knowing how to stop 'em if we need to. Nice and easy.

( you know, if aurora doesn't stay on side. )

[ He waits without question, gaze following Clint as he moves way, letting everything pause when Clint does to go and do whatever. And that do is to get: a tube, apparently, or Gorgug thinks at first. But it's what the man leads on with--a conversation that would spur mixed feelings within Gorgug, even if he would ultimately agree with the thinking, if he had the chance to think on it--that makes him look at it again.

His hands unravel from the glass, fingers pressed against the surface of the island top. Wanting to potentially touch, but waiting. Suddenly, Etraya and Aurora or the companion bots don't matter to him as his eyes fix onto Clint with the same, lowkey tone in his voice: ]

What does it do?

[ Is this thing cool? is his real question, and of most importance. ]

( it's cool, would be clint's answer to the question gorgug doesn't ask. clint's trick arrows are his pride and joy — or one of them, anyway, sat neatl nestled amongst his pride for his skills as a marksman, his brazenness about being either charming and handsome, or handsome and likeable, or just handsome, or just likeable. you know, he's a full package kind of guy—

—is what he'd say. )

You point it at people and you hit them with it. ( is, however, the answer he gives, flat and level, attention back on gorgug. ask a stupid question and all that.

the momentary silence following the remark implies that's where clint's going to leave it, but the small tug at the corners of his lips says otherwise. sly and self-satisfied, the pause is entirely deliberate before— ) This one's a sonic arrow. Emits a loud noise about two seconds after you fire it. Get too close, and it's enough to deafen a man.

( temporarily? permanently? yes. all depends on just how close is 'close'.

(don't stick it in your mouth, kids.) )

[ There's no flash of embarrassment that comes from the first answer. Instead, there's confusion, because Gorgug knows there's a goodie right here that isn't being shared with him properly, and his lips part and there's the definite start of a furrowed brow that would have definitely led to questions of but I want to know what it does does!!

But Clint shares, he's not that cruel. It does embolden Gorgug however, the arrow definitely cool and this tool, he'd very much like to peel it apart and see how it all comes together; but Gorgug isn't going to ask if Clint makes them, or for anything that's more in lines with how he's been questioning everything so far.

Clint teased him, and maybe he wants to puff himself up some. Not show as visibly just how much he likes seeing new technology and forms of it--no. He considers it, and decides, ]

I could make that. [ Confidently said, and after a beat: ] And a machine jammer. And magic.

[ We're out here being a bold boy right now, his back even straightening a little. H-he can be cool too, you know. ]

Yeah?

( immediate, reassessing. immediate, and clint thinks of bryce and he thinks of how stupid it is for him to let people involved in his life because they just get hurt.

but there's no parker robbins here. no enemies of clint barton, or of hawkeye, or ronin, or whatever identity clint's decided to assume this week because he's struggling (again) with the concept of who he is and where he fits into everything, because he's struggling with the realisation (again) that sometimes, sometimes what the avengers do isn't enough. sometimes it doesn't get the results you need.

the thought lingers, quietly but present, even as clint ignores it. there's a solid chance they're all going to get hurt anyway, right? but that doesn't mean he has to make it more likely.

(fuck.) )

—It's not just about the tech. It's the engineering. It's gotta be aerodynamic, too.

[ He's put himself in this position: Clint isn't challenging him. But he's fluffed himself up on a promise that he can't immediately back up, but wants nothing more than to keep. Gorgug knows he could do it, just like he can do a lot of things, just like he wants to do--he just needs time. And he wants nothing more than to prove that to himself first before anybody else.

And now, there's nothing else he wants. 'It's gotta be aerodynamic.' An itch grows in his fingers. He's never done anything with arrows. He wants to do everything with arrows. ]

I need samples, or I can read up on arrow crafts and start from there, make prototypes until I get the right weight and power. [ Confidence isn't carrying in his voice, but the energy is earnest, doubt far from present. Even as he speaks like knows he needs to convince. Wants to convince. ] I need time, but--I can do it. I've worked with weapons.

[ He wants a chance. ]

( it doesn't quite remind clint of himself — he'd been younger, a little over half gorgug's age, and he'd jumped into being a volunteer for the swordmaster's show without a second thought because it was better than shovelling elephant shit, but there's a thread of similarity there. it's in the want and the desire to prove oneself, and that— clint's very familiar with that.

clint has a soft spot for that. )

I don't have many samples, not here, ( he admits, rolling the arrow against the table. it's a distracted action, born of clint's need to do something with his hands more than it is anything else. ) No sporting goods store, no easy template to crib off without asking Aurora for help. ( which, to be fair, is easy enough to do — present it as "I've been thinking about what I need to be effective in the missions", but— mm.

he picks the arrow up, taps it mindlessly against his chin. it's the rest of it. the mechanics of it all. ) I can give you some of my duds. ( the ones that don't work, the net arrows that don't retract, the boomerang arrows that don't boomerang. not ideal, but it is what it is. )

[ There's the chance. A knit in Gorgug eases, but doesn't fully unravel: next comes everything else, the proving himself. Just as important, and more manageable than getting people to trust him with words he doesn't have. Words he wouldn't believe in, probably.

He nods at the offer of duds, but not for that. ] I've asked for books and materials before-- I was studying [ a beat ] arcanotech back home. Magic, and technology. My focus is battle smithing, making items for fighting, so it's not weird. [ If there's a concern about that--that asking for fighting-oriented supplies would raise a certain suspicion Clint doesn't want. ]

If I take scans of your working arrows, your bow too-- that could help.

[ Work backwards on the design, seeing how everything fits into place, or should. It's worth a shot. ]

( 'aracnotech' means precisely nothing to clint, and the lack of comprehension is evident in his expression, the way he pauses and looks at gorgug, but then gorgug clarifies (clint thinks), and it makes a little more sense. it still doesn't really explain the name which, clint thinks, sounds like it's something to do with spiders, but— it's fine. it's fine.

magic and technology. it's not what he'd choose to specialise in but hey, it's not like he's got powers. it's not like he can do magic. for him, choosing to specialise had amounted to "what can I do (in the circus) (that isn't shovelling shit and taking down tents)?" with a side of "I want to show off". it'd been avoiding studying — not training, he was good at that, willing to do that for hours on end — but studying? no. he'd dropped out of school in his teens with a dodgy attendance record for the years before that — hinted at by the sticky notes with the terrible handwriting and the just-as-bad spelling.

(no-one, not even clint barton, would describe clint barton as 'book smart'.)
(and he relies on autocorrect far more than he'll ever admit.)

and so he makes a noise that amounts, mostly, to a grumble, although it's not clear why. is it the fact that gorgug has said about scanning his bow? (yes.) is it the idea of his arrows being scanned? also yes. but mostly, it's the bow thing. mostly, it's because the bow is back in the lounge, hung above the sofa, and he just came from the lounge. )

Bow's just a bow, ( he says, and it's mostly true. there's nothing special about clint's bow — it's not cheap, sure, and it's been custom-made, but there's nothing unusual about it beyond its draw weight. it's a point of pride for clint that, as far as these things go, it's simple. it's meant to be personal and deliberate, even if trick arrows complicate matters a little. )

How are you scanning it? ( is what he asks, but what he means is "you're not taking it anywhere without me". )

[ Unfortunately, the reaction is one that's common enough whenever he try to explain his artificing, that Gorgug talks through it hoping this is a better explanation than all those times before. He tried. He failed. He's not going into it further unless he's asked. He's bad at explaining anything even if he's meant to be smart now.

But speaking of explaining. ]

I have goggles. [ Gorgug doesn't have goggles on him, signalled by the fact he mimics holding a pair above his head before pulling them down over his eyes. ] They can, um, help tell me the properties--give me the weight and let me, well. [ Oh, god. ] Usually I have a lab, and then I can take the data and read it on a device and then I can try to replicate the item I want if I have it, without just looking at the item, since-- a lot of what I do is about putting in the right amount of magic, or making items without instructions. Learning the blueprint for yourself.

[ Some of it. What he learns is a lot, three years of school being crammed into one, and covering every angle of artificing that will get him the grades he needs. He hates it. He loves it (deep down). He craves the knowledge and the need to get over the hurdle put before him, though none of that is applicable here, in Etraya. What counts now is him doing something, showing that he can. Proving he hadn't made a mistake, that a barbarian like him who always lacked self-confidence could create more than destruction. ]

If I make scans, I'll have that data, and I won't need your bow or your good arrows.

[ But this is the main reason he wants to take scans. ]

( it's a little awkward, a little stilted, but clint gets the gist — or enough of the gist. it's not really anything that makes sense to clint, but given what gorgug does say, clint think he doesn't really need to.

he thinks, too, that gorgug would probably love to meet tony, even if tony's, you know, tony. it's almost — almost — a pity he's not here, except for all the ways it's really good that, like, none of the other avengers are here.

the other thing that clint takes away from it, the thing that's more interesting, actually, than the fact that gorgug can theoretically make arrows and clint will need to feel less precious about making arrows, is the fact that it sounds like gorgug would also be able to make clint another bow. (it's always good to have back-ups—).

it sounds, too, like it's not a million miles away from what aurora does — of course, he's guessing, he's got no proof, but it's that word. "replicate". aurora had made a big deal about the stuff she provides is a copy of the original, not the original itself. maybe it's why she's agreed to let the kid take a look at the bots, because what he does and what she does has a base of similarity? it's something to think about. he doesn't know what it means, what it could mean, but it's something to keep in mind.

but it's just that one part of it all he gets caught up on. the putting in the right amount of magic.

(he hates magic.)
(—no, he doesn't, but it's COMPLICATED and he's not sure how much he wants to trust something of his that's been imbued with it.) )

—What d'you mean by 'putting in magic'?

[ Should he ask questions? Ask first how much Clint knows about magic? Gorgug hesitates, wondering if he should, but it's a simple enough answer that if he's treating Clint as dumb by what he thinks to say, then-- maybe he'll let it go. ]

Most of the items I make need me to put my magic into it. [ He gestures a hand to himself, at his chest. ] Even if there's another source, like crystals or elemental gems, the magic I put in, is like, instructions. So, uh...

[ He's starts to look around, but lands quickly on the glass of water he hasn't drunk from yet and picks it up. Thinks about the most obvious choice he can make, and picks it up: steadying the bottom against the palm of one hand, and then holding it around the top side with the other. His gaze is on it, but he closes his eyes, and soon: the sound of an ocean begins to emit from the glass, sloshing waves, the faint call of seagulls...

...and the rhythm of drums picking up a beat in the background.

It takes a couple of seconds at most, and Gorgug opens up his eyes again, places the glass down back on the counter. The noise continues, and there's no new marks on the cup: it's simply playing a loop of sound, of waves, birds, and a drum beat somewhere in this scene that isn't visible. ]

I can remove it. [ Just so Clint knows he hasn't haunted his glass forever. ] But, that's what-- that's what I do.

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