|
|
Post by Miska on Oct 15, 2015 15:53:01 GMT
"Oh, I know of a land,
Far away in the north.
With a shimmering strand,
‘Tween mountains and fjord~"It was sundown at the Chaldea compound. The metallic, proud building, for so long defiantly contrasting the white mountain was now at last blended in with the ever-winter snow. For the dusk was nearing, and in its looming presence all other colors were subdued. The snow glowed faintly like drizzling amber, peeking from the rocks, while over the cloudless sky the sun painted its purplish streak all across the world. In this serene light the tip of the tall woods around were like a lit candles, their long shadows made them seem like a dense forest. Far to the east two birds soared in the distance, gawking out loud as if declaring to the world that they were coming home. In this land of blinding white, forever shone during the day, dusk was a time of equality. A time where everything lose their color and became one. A time where all the features blended into one smoothness. A time of being together, of rest, where the mountain sleeps as the stars played their lullaby. But breaking the serene stillness was a soft voice, as gentle as the breeze and as sweet as the moonlight. A voice that, despite its perfectly in tune with the nature, was as misplaced as a sunrise in the night. The barren branches giddied in silence. Songs do not belong here; here in Chaldea compound. "There I long to be a guest,
Where my heart held fast,
With the finest, finest bands~"Standing alone in a clearing, surrounded by dead pines was a mantled figure with red hair, holding an unsheathed sword with her extended hand. Facing her was an old tree stump, on which stood a thick wooden log she had asked from the storage. ‘They have everything here,’ Miska had thought. Of course, they were simply wooden log to fuel a fireplace, which she imagined there must be many within the big compound. She had had no time to check- she had just arrived an hour ago and only had time to drop her luggage in her room. She would make sure to explore the place thoroughly later. But it needed to wait. He had noticed earlier that the outskirts of the compound had little lights. The inner buildings itself was extremely bright in what he’d seen so far, but the wilderness outside was suspiciously dark save for a few red lights to guide the planes. And so she decided to steal some time to train her sword before the sun completely went down. Around the old tree stump in front of her were littered pieces of wood chopped cleanly in half, a testament to the effectiveness of her sword. Miska herself had no problem training in a room. But somehow, the allure of the outside always drew her in. Besides, that’s what the heroes of old did, right? King Arthur never trained inside his castle... But after a few energetic swings, Miska discovered an exciting question. What if… the broad side of his blade can cut as effectively as its bladed part? Would it make him more effective in a situation where he cannot swing his sword properly? He hadn’t put much thought into it before since cutting something with the broad part of the sword is terribly ineffective. But that exactly was the exciting part: how to make it more effective. That was why she stood as she was now, staying still facing a block of wood while her mind formulated ways to make her sword’s broad part effective in cutting. And that was why she broke into a song. She felt happy now, somehow, and singing was one of the few ways Miska could use to express herself. Of course, He didn’t sing often. And those rare times he did his nanny usually told him that he had a very peculiar voice: a voice which stirs the deepest of emotions. Miska dismissed this as empty praise until one day his father stated the same. But she still did not find the courage to sing. Except for times like now, when she was sure she was alone. "And I so often be,
Longing to see this land.
And always, it pulls on me,
When I am long away~"At last, he came to a possible solution. He noticed that the broad side of his broad was not as flat as it seemed. Indeed, it actually bulged somewhat in the middle where the core steel was melded. Perhaps if he could change the angle and tamper its steel a little… With a smile, she straightened her body and brought her hand back in an arc, ready to strike at the wooden block with the broad side of her blade. If her improvements were correct, she should be able to cut halfway through. She stood in that posture for a second, perfecting every little details.
"With the awakening spring,
My longing becomes so- OH NO!! "Too late! He had swung with all his might, and (certainly) due to some miscalculations the blade simply slapped the block of wood hard instead of cutting it (as was expected of hitting a wood with the broad side of a blade). The block of wood flew high in an arc, twisted mid-air, and then aimed straight at the head of someone whom Miska didn’t realize was there! She could only watch, with wide eyes. Even if she could force herself to move twice as fast she would not be able to stop the wood from hitting its target. It was now certain to hit that someone square in the head with terrifying speed… ***
<Open to All! Other Masters or fellow Sword-wielders will be much appreciated> |
|
|
|
Post by emiya on Oct 15, 2015 17:19:28 GMT
When the wrought-iron hero needed space to think, he came out here. The inside of the Chaldea compound, while comfortable, was...artificial. He could hear the thrum of electricity and sense the pulsing of machinery. And while he was used to such things, as a modern hero, there were increasingly often times where he just couldn’t take the monotony of the feeling
Like turning gears.
While he was used to snow, he’d come upon it somewhat regularly, even though a great deal of his life was spent in the southern part of asia and europe, there were winters, and there were mountains. But...whenever he looked on the bleak expanse of a Russian winter, all those felt miniscule, like the feeling one would get by being on a vacation instead of -in- the snow. It was a kind of serenity, to be completely engulfed by the whirling ice.
However, this time, something intruded on his thoughts. The first thing he noticed was the rhythmic thunk of metal striking wood. Curious, he turns in the direction, and his reinforced eyes can see someone training. It was only then, that he was paying attention, that he was able to hear the singing voice over the wind.
Archer was curious. All the more so, when the amount of magical energy exuded from the singer was low enough that it could not possibly have been a human. Even more when, as he got slightly closer he could tell she wasn’t wearing nearly enough cold-weather gear. “Hey, you should get back inside. If a storm picks up, you’ll probably-”
In a flash, a piece of wood, likely a training equipment, flies off, as if it had been struck with a bat. As whenever such things occurred for Emiya, time seemed to slow. He considered what would be the best way to deal with the projectile flying for his head. He could catch it, and it would likely not injure his hand, but there was a possibility. He could fire an arrow at it, that would work so long as the arrow was strong enough to deflect the course, but the heavy winds and snow made that less appealing. So he settled on the default option.
“Trace on.” In his hand, a cloudy, white sword that matches that of the snow appears, and in one swift motion, slashes the sword out of the air, leaving two, perfectly divided pieces in the ground behind them. Picking them up, he tosses them over at the girl. “That could have hurt someone.” His words aren’t harsh or judging, but amused.
|
|
|
|
Post by anton on Oct 15, 2015 17:40:03 GMT
Anton wasn't a particularly outdoorsy type of person. For various reasons he was a much more indoors kind of guy, he liked comfort and warmth making him not all that keen on the cold and snow. Yet for more educational reasons he was willing to leave his comfort zone, he nearly spent two weeks in rains chasing after thunder. Luckily he had good health and never caught a cold from that experience at least.
This was one of the few occasions that Anton went outside "Just because" was as much as he could explain. Well since coming to Chaldea he had been doing a few more escapades than it was usual for him. But who could blame him? he was out there risking his life in wretched time singularities. Did he want to help? yes but originally he thought he had been recruited was to work as a researcher, maybe as an analyst or as something that wasn't a provisional master. He wasn't exactly comfortable around Servants though so far the ones he met were people, nice albeit intimidating people.
Anton still managed to clock hours in the labs between missions but sometimes he needed some space. He could use breaks from the debates and from the stress, as well as anxiety of going back to that hell. Right now he was returning from one of his walks, it wasn't aimless but Anton had found a little bench out-ways of the base. No one ever seemed to go there as it was always covered in snow whenever he went there. He'd even found it by mistake, his guess was that one of the previous workers in Chaldea's had put it there then eventually left the organization or something and the bench was forgotten.
If he could enjoy one thing about this ever winter land was the sound of the crunch of snow. In an almost melancholic way Anton enjoyed it crunch under his feet, that he was the only thing warm and how his breathing formed vapor. He had with him a half full thermos with coffee and a half eaten bar of a frozen chocolate bar with him. Though he'd prefer a strong drink, Anton the ever worrying preferred not getting stone drunk in the middle of the wilderness.
But rather unexpectedly he heard a voice, well more accurately he heard someone signing. It wasn't that he was enchanted, it certainly meant that if he approached he'd have to socialize something he didn't want right now. It was merely a case of curiosity got the best of him that made him leave his small secret path and approach the clearing. He stopped by the edge of the trees to see a girl with a sword, or wait was it a boy? Anton squinted, he couldn't tell the difference really. She or he had a sword so that probably meant she was a Servant, probably. He would describe that person as "normal" but then again he reminded himself of Dr Jekyll. Then Anton saw someone else approach, now that man with tanned skin and white hair, like the swords-user they weren't wearing winter appropriate outfits and he did look like a Servant.
Anton was about to leave when he heard a swing, an "Oh no" and then the sound of something being cut. By the time he turned around whatever happened, had happen and the tanned Servant was holding a curved short sword. "A Saber then, huh?" Instead of acting like a creeper and leaving thought that was honestly his desire Anton entered the clearing, he walked slowly and casually. One hand holding a plastic bag with the Thermos and frozen chocolate and the other buried in his grey winter jacket.
"Yup, like specially to a normal guy like me." He was teasing or rather joking but with a straight face, still he severely doubted he could have dodge out of the way of an object moving fast enough that made a Servant draw his weapon.
|
|
|
|
Post by Miska on Oct 16, 2015 14:54:54 GMT
 Miska ran to the crime scene as fast as he could. It seemed that he had “batted” the wood quite far indeed. Which means that the broad side of his sword is effective, but for another purpose. Yay! Discovery!
And there she saw a white-haired man with a sword of his own. Beside him were two halves of the said log cut perfectly. “S-sorry,” Miska said under her breath, “I- ah- woah!”
Unexpectedly, the man had thrown the pieces back to her. Never one to waste something, she automatically tried to grab them but slipped, succeeding only in making her fell face-first to the hard ice. Lucky that she managed to plant her elbows firmly before her forehead banged. This ice was not the fluffy, welcoming-your-fall type. It was the cold, rock-hard type that could really cut flesh.
‘Great.’ he thought to himself, ‘Your first day and you already looked like a clown.’
Feeling somewhat miserable, Miska quickly stood up before anyone could help him in a last ditch attempt to save his dignity. I mean, no noble act like that, right? Like his father said he needed to be a proper lord.
So, he straightened himself and patted the snow off his mantle, the two halves of the wood firmly clamped under his non-wielding armpit. Prim and proper. Yes, like that. His back should be strengthened, poised. Ready to spell any command.
But then she realized who she was facing and she blinked. The white-haired man facing her was HUGE. Miska, standing proudly at 155 cm, had to look up to see his chin, and even then she wasn’t sure whether that was his chin or somewhere in the center of his chest. Furthermore, he had brought a friend. Another guy walked out of the clearing behind him, which made Miska remembered that the most effective way to bully someone was to bring another friend along. This made her instantly on guard.
“Sorry- erm, I mean…” she cleared her throat, desperately trying to look more dignified. And she succeeded, somewhat. That last flick she gave to her mantle was decidedly lordly, “Forgive my misconduct putting you both in harm’s way. I, emm.. promise that will never happen again.” She seated her sword as she said so, making one sweet, smooth, perfectly tuned sound of steel grinding its scabbard.
He smiled inwardly. ‘Now that is right.'
He blinked again, watching the two. Someone said something about when starting school… so, uh… oh right! This the moment when one introduce himself! “So, you are both in Chaldea, too?” He continued –somewhat- nonchalantly. “I have just arrived this afternoon. My name is Miska of Malamö, Lord Kopparsvärd IX. (which was partially right. Her grandfather was Lord Kopparsvard VII, and if everything went well his father should be next, and him after) It is a pleasure to be meeting you.”
And with a small smile she regally extended her non-wooded hand towards the white-haired man, although from the height difference it looked like she was about to punch his belly. Just then she realized that she might need to extend her hand to the bespectacled guy too or he would think of her as rude. Her hand shifted mid-way, but then she realized that the white-haired man had not returned her handshake so she probably needed to finish business with him too before moving to the other guy. Her hand shifted three-quarter way, but then she realized that if the bespectacled guy had seen her hand moving before he might thought she was introducing to himself first. Her hand shifted again, but then she realized that maybe it was a bad idea….
It was one, long, confusing handshake initiation.
*** Thanks for joining! I hope we can have fun! Tagging: emiya anton |
|
|
|
Post by emiya on Oct 16, 2015 17:41:30 GMT
Emiya returns the handshake easily. "Archer. Good to meet you." It was clear the swordsman had his pride injured by the entire situation, so he made his best effort to move past that. He had noticed the man behind him, but didn't comment. He thought they'd go different paths into the tundra, but that hadn't seemed to happen. "I'm sure our friend here can be patient. I'm sorry for the confusion."
Shrugging at the apology, Archer smiles a bit. "It's nothing to worry about. If I couldn't have dealt with something like that, then I'd be a rather pathetic Servant, wouldn't I?" He allows the traced Bakuya to disappear into the mist. Turning back to Anton, he chuckles "It was just convenient that I was able to stop it from hitting you on the head."
He looks at the sliced wood she stored inside her arm. "Was there a reason you sent that flying? I didn't mean to interrupt your training, but that was a rather inefficient way to use a sword." He smirks slightly. "They're not really all that complicated weapons, so I wonder how you managed it."
He felt slightly sorry for the sarcasm after he examined the swordsman a bit more. It was clear he was a rather awkward person, and it wasn't guaranteed he would accept it in the way it was intended. "Are you to be a Master for Chaldea? I didn't think swordplay was something often practiced much in modern times, save for idle sport."
|
|
|
|
Post by anton on Oct 16, 2015 21:37:05 GMT
Anton started feeling bad at his attempt at teasing when the girl? uh boy? fell flat on his or her face. He looked at the Servant to see what kind of reaction he would do, he himself managed to not squeeze a sympathetic smile and tried looking as aloof as possible when the poor person got up looking all dignified. Anton could never make that work. Looking dignified that is, he was pretty sure he could fall flat on his face if he wasn't careful. "Uhm, yeah thank you for that." He said, pulling his hand and scratching the back of his head. He adjusted his glasses and took a closer look at the two he encountered. Originally he had assumed both to be Servants but then watching the girl? boy stumble down made it clear it was a human in the flesh. Speaking of which she was young, maybe it was how effeminate she was that made her look younger but even then this person couldn't be older than eighteen. Was Chaldea getting desperate or something, or was this person very talented. To not lose hope Anton chose to believe that Chaldea was getting competent people. The Servant on the other-hand was just what he'd expected one to look like. Tall, strong reliable and intimidating enough. Anton also briefly examined the weapon and how it vanished. "Projection huh? Some kind of Caster then."Anton broke out of his thoughts when eventually was his turn to give a handshake, the poor kid must be nervous. "Jeez her hands are small." Was what came into mind when they handshaked, he also for now decided to address the new member of Chaldea as a she or until he was proven embarrassingly wrong. "Uh, I'm Anton Artzen, one of the Provisional Masters, part timer at the laboratories as well..." He replied, then let go before the hand shake became awkward. He shifted his gaze to the horizon for no reason in particular, letting out a sigh with a small cloud of vapor he looked at the fading sun, he thought he should get back to base soon. "I didn't think there many Magi families that still practice swordsmanship, maybe the ones with regalias." But then again, he thought he knew next to nothing about how some families could be very old fashioned. "But I could be wrong." He added. Frankly speaking he wasn't a magus that up until now never got himself involved in fights, danger yes but as far as fighting he didn't have much experience. His family background wasn't one that did not have a very violent oriented background either. So for all he knew the Miska's family was one of those mercenary like magi that he had heard about. *** OCC: Nice meeting you! |
|
|
|
Post by godfreya on Oct 17, 2015 10:57:19 GMT
The land was enveloped by a white blanket that stretched for miles. It was a nostalgic feeling for Godfreya, whom have never experienced snow ever since she led the Crusaders and resided in Jerusalem. The snow, slowly falling from the night sky, would glitter like diamonds in the dark. It was a beautiful sight that made even Godfreya gasp in awe.
"Beautiful. . ."
She murmured to herself as she gazed at the environment. She played with her head, moving it from left to right, to gaze at the falling snow. She raised her hands which was covered with parts of her armor but retracted them as a snow drop fell on it, touching her white skin instead. Servants do not feel the cold as much as humans or mages do but Godfreya couldn't help but imagine the feeling of it. It was cold, cold enough to make her body shiver in excitement. It was truly nostalgic.
"Mother, Father, Eustace, Baldwin. . ."
She mumbled as her eyes somewhat began to produce tears. She reminisced a scene in her past, a time where she was young and was still a woman at heart yet having that brazen courage she was known of. She remembered on that fiery place inside their home in the little town of Baisy. It was a comfortable home with her family where both her brothers will play, chase around the house, and she would ask her father to teach her how to swing a wooden sword and her mother will just watch them on a wooden sofa while knitting a cloth.
"Indeed, I missed all of you. . ."
She said to herself as she smiled while she clenched a snowdrop and placed it on her forehead. That winter night was one of the days and nights of that winter. That winter, was the last time of that year, and the last time that she was ever there at their home. Because after that time, she had chosen to change her fate. However, she doesn't regret her choice. But, many times, she thought that, she would have loved to have had the opportunity to be all together one last time.
As she covered her hands with her gauntlets once again, and was about to turn into spirit form and leave, she suddenly heard a beautiful song. It was a song, a beautiful song of a maiden, which sang of earnest yearning. It was a song with a harmonious tune which spoke through Godfreya's heart. It jibed with her heart that she recalled the same feeling she had for her family and for Jerusalem. She shook her head to look around but she can't seem to find the singer due to the thick raining of snow and the dark night. Nonetheless, the song made her heart vibrate and it made her very curious. Quickly, she walked through the snow and under the night sky, to look for that singer.
While she had walked for a minute, she suddenly lost the song from her ears. Maybe the singer had stopped or she had gone too far away from her? But, it couldn't be possible. A Servant's ears are many times more powerful than that of a human. It wouldn't be possible for her to miss the singer's location out. Suddenly, she heard and felt a commotion, a wooden board being torn to bits and steel clanging.
"A fight? Here in Chaldea?"
She asked to herself as she ran towards the direction. There, she saw three people conversing: a girl wielding a sword, a boy with glasses and a man dressed in a red robe which she could definitely discern as a Servant by his aura. She decided to slowly approached them as to ask what had happened and also to find out if that girl was the singer.
"What had transpired here, fellow Crusaders of Chaldea?"
(OOC Note: Godfreya would initially call agents as Crusaders but would change them if she deems them as heretics.)
|
|
|
|
Post by Miska on Oct 17, 2015 17:08:21 GMT
Miska gave a curt nod at the white-haired man’s answer. So this is what a Servant looks like... Tall and strong and…scary? The thought made Miska squirmed inward. If all Servants were like this, how could he be expected to be the Master? He was supposed to lead them, right? And on his book a leader should be like King Arthur to his knights: outstanding, dignified, and somewhat intimidating to them. How could he- oh this do not bode well… Secretly, Miska made a mental note to herself to redoubled her efforts to act more fitting to her role. And when the white sword disappeared, a surprised look visibly swept on his face before he could bring it to control again. Could he be-? “Archer,” she repeated in an attempted formal voice after their handshake. ‘Archer? Funny name…’ “And Anton Artzen? I don’t think I’ve ever heard of Artzen before.” She turned towards the bespectacled boy, somewhat snobbishly with a raised chin. This was what the other children do whenever she attended a noble gathering, and poor Miska thought that was the proper way to socialize, “Where is your family's territory, if I may ask?” He meant, of course, of a tract of land designated by the Association specially as a family’s territory. Every noble family worth their blood have one, so Miska naturally wrote it down in his guideline in greetings. Little did he know that it might be offensive to some. Then “Archer” commented on how inefficient she was and Miska’s face abruptly changed. Oh! If the feeling called hurt could have an expression! That expression would be the very expression Miska was wearing now. Some people do have certain words they like to avoid. But for a member of The Third Family, whose sole purpose in life was to find ways to increase the efficiency of everything they find, being called inefficient was like telling them their whole life was useless. A wound worse than death. Archer was sharp indeed to guess that the red-haired child might not take the joke as it was meant to be. He stayed still for a while as his fuming mind tried to find an answer to the outrageously hurtful accusation when the topic shifted to swordsmanship. From what they were saying it seemed that most Magi nowadays did not practice swordsmanship, which was news for Miska. “I don’t…know, really,” she said somewhat defiantly. She did not understand yet where this questions would go so this scared her a little. “I thought- But my family put emphasis in physical training, and I simply followed Father.” Wait. That last part sounded a bit too childish. Perhaps she should have stated proudly that this was her choice? He drew his sword once again. This time, his automatic flair really made him look like a lord going to battle. “Besides, it can be useful. Like in that famous visual novel folktale where the red-haired protagonist practiced swordsmanship even when others rarely did. It proved useful later where he was plunged into a battle royale called Holy Grail War he never expected before.” His face was dead serious, so it was clear that he wasn’t joking, He expected his audience to know the story the way members of Three Families would. Extending her sword-wielding arm, she made a gesture as if to demonstrate something. Partly because she really did, and partly because she was still hurt from Archer’s remarks earlier. From her posture she did not lie when she said she put effort to physical training. Her body might look small and slender, but there were sure some muscles there. Which might somehow remind Archer of a certain golden-haired knight, also a little short. “Allow me to demonst-“"What had transpired here, fellow Crusaders of Chaldea?"
Suddenly, a regal voice rang in the air. Miska froze, watching a lady-in-armor that was approaching them. Some explanations quickly flashed in his mind, but nothing which he understood. ____________________
A question, directed at: Subject: fellow Crusaders of Chaldea Crusaders (n.) : Plural form of crusader. Crusader (n.) : Person engaged in a crusade. Crusade (n.) (plural crusades) 1. Any of the military expeditions undertaken by the Christians of Europe in the 11th to 13th centuries to reconquer the Levant from the Muslims. • I only know myself to be a Christian. Maybe the others are too? But this is not 11th to 13th centuries.
• We aren’t trying to reconquer- next. 2. A grand concerted effort toward some purportedly worthy cause. • Are we in a grand concerted effort? Maybe. Oh it can be that....
____________________
“Uh, w-what?”
And while Miska still tried to understand something, she usually did not try to tamper with it unless she was really fascinated. For now, it might be better for more smooth-tongued people to react to the question. |
|
|
|
Post by emiya on Oct 17, 2015 17:46:08 GMT
Archer turns to Artzen, slightly bemused. “Oh? You work in the laboratories? Chaldea seems to have gathered very adaptable magi.” Considering the majority of magi he had met in his life tended to range from “ignoring” technology to “causing explosions just from their presence,” someone who was able to be a help was somewhat out of the norm. “You’ll have to show me around sometime.”
Miska’s defensive nature brought out a grin. “Heh, Far be it from me to say that a magic user picking up a sword is a bad idea. So long as you’re not an idiot about it, it can be an effective way to fight. It’s just, it was my understanding that an effective swordsman usually tries to hit it’s target with the edge of a sword, rather than the fuller.”
Her summation brought out a sigh. “He sounds like he was an idiot for getting involved, but I’m not going to judge something I don’t know anything about.” The story was so vaguely worded that it could have been hundreds of stories, but he couldn’t help thinking about what happened in his own life. That had been basically what had happened to him, though it was being very, very generous as to the amount of impact he was able to have.
His eyes widen as she prepares a demonstration. However, that was simply something that never was able to occur. A new person, obviously a Servant, trudged onto their gathering in the snow, asking questions with a somewhat strange word choice, though nothing too strange for a Servant. Archer just shrugs. “Nothing worth being concerned. I got too close to Miska as she was training, and there was a mishap that I prevented from causing harm.”
|
|
|
|
Post by anton on Oct 17, 2015 20:08:07 GMT
Anton made an awkward expression when it was inevitably asked who his family was or the point they've never heard of it. Or where were they based and obviously what kind of status did they held. It was always a downer when that topic came up for him, he wasn't embarrassed or ashamed of being the first head of the third resurrection of the Artzen line. But it wasn't exactly easy to be proud of the fact that his family had sunk two times already and all but vanished because of their troublesome Sorcery Trait.
Anton smiled a bit trying to look as "noble" and "indifferent" as possible, but hiding away his reluctance was something he did not do quite so well. "I guess you wouldn't, my line has a tendency to vanish from the world every now and then." When in doubt, turn it into an amusing anecdote, that was something he learned from his Sister. "Without making it a long story, I'm the 3rd, 1st head to the Artzen line, no territory... uuh yet. Hopefully working with Chaldea will give me the boost I need." He said, once again scratching the back of his head and finding quick relief on Archer's question. "Oh, yeah sure I don't have access to the classified areas yet but I'm sure I can give you a tour without getting into trouble." He said, using the time to work out of his not so prestigious family history downer.
"I've not heard that one, must be a local story in your area." Anton said, he couldn't really give an opinion on the matter of swordsmanship as for one he lacked experience on the field and secondly wasn't something he was interested in. For safe measures Anton took a step back to watch Miska's demonstration, however there was no need as an interruption appeared. Anton glanced at the direction of the new arrival, a Servant given her attire and also her way to address them. Talk about old fashioned.
"Not much really." He said, when questioned about what had happened. He nodded at Archer's comment, then placed his free hand back into his pockets. "Lots of folks out lately, before I could hardly run into anything living here. I'm guessing the base is getting stuffy." He commented, to no one in particular.
|
|
