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Picking up the Pieces

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Picking up the Pieces

Post by Dunstan Hue on Tue Oct 30, 2012 12:31 pm

"So my life kind of became very directionless since the explosion."

It wasn't an easy thing to admit to himself, but Dunstan managed it. The explosion both took his life away and gave him a whole new one. His life was a blank, but his skills weren't. His memories were gone forever, but he had the ability to make whole new ones.

What had he actually done since then? He had been arrested, he took part in a war, he blew up a few things and he spent most of that time getting drunk.

Dunstan stopped to consider this.

"Actually," he admitted, "- all of that was really awesome." However, he couldn't avoid how utterly directionless and pointless it all was; he didn't have an endgame or a motive. He was just walking around, bumping into people and drinking everything he didn't cause to explode. As fun as it was, it was draining. You can only run from the pointlessness for so long before you realise your life is empty. So Dunstan made a few phonecalls to see if he could find the only man he knew for certain was a part of his past.

Which is why he was sitting on a park bench, The Princess sitting in front of him as he casually tinkered with it and waited for Toss to show up. A fat doobie in one corner of his mouth and a stern look of concentration in his singular eyeball. The night sky hung over him, the park abandoned. He didn't know why he chose now, other than it was spur in the moment and he only sent Toss the call that day. Still, he just felt that he needed some information about his previous life, just so he could shake himself out of his funk.
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Re: Picking up the Pieces

Post by Toss Ivanova on Sat Nov 03, 2012 2:53 am

So wait. Which phone was it? Toss was digging through his mountain of cellphones, trying not to bang them too hard when they fell off the coffee table. It really was a problem, having so many. But what could he say? He couldn't resist. The allure of collecting things was just compelling. At the same time, it served oftentimes to make him late. Like now. Now, he was late because of it. He shot Savvy a sad excuse for a perturbed look, but the bird seemed to pay him no mind. Of course, his feathered friend was immune to his antics by now. Toss just couldn't win. Not today. Not any day. Ah, the misfortune of being an immortal. The Wandering Albatross squawked in compliance, giving the Ishvallan a bequeathed look. Alright fine. If he wanted to play at that game. He was lookin' at the masta. Toss strode up to the bird with a cocky look beaming through his red eyes. "What," he cooed, voice bridging on dangerous, "think I can't find it?" He spun around on his heels, crossing his arms behind his back. He then pranced back to his pile and shot a devious look over his shoulder at the large beaked bird. "Just because my memory sucks doesn't mean you get to look at me like that. Have a little faith, will ya? Jeez. It was like some weird obscure park name or sumthin'. I shoulda written it down, but I couldn't figure out which pen to use. And then the message was already over and I had to go to work. Don't you understand? Stop tilting your head at me and go do something useful. At least dogs can fetch the newspaper."

Savvy hopped off his perch, meandering across the counter top. He stopped at the sink, pecking at the faucet briefly before squatting down to cover his webbed feet with feather puff. Toss scoffed in response, turning back to his task of locating the specific device in which he received the voicemail. Goddamn, if he could only remember the color, it would help. Idiot. Idiot. Idiot. Gavin would be laughing at him right now. And by laughing, he meant that delightful look the man took on when he was highly amused by the misendeavors of others. He felt like such a failure right now. He was failing an old friend--the man who constructed his favorite type of bomb before he even managed to get into the Creig air force. They went way back, and he hadn't really heard from the guy since his strange encounter a while ago. He hadn't seemed to remember who Toss was, but he sure remembered what vodka was. And...he had wanted a sandwich. How absurd, asking for things from Greed. Yeah really, tell him about it. But now he was kinda talking to himself and it was starting to make him feel crazy. Well, losing something was definitely enough drive to make anyone feel crazy. It was degrading and belittling not to remember details of things that you've done yourself. It was an insult to memory--a folly to the conception of skills. Of which Toss definitely didn't have. The very fact he was thinking in such distinct words was bewildering in a way.

He sighed. Alas, it was like finding a needle in a needle stack. Or however the damn adage went. Whatever. He didn't really care. He just needed to find the stupid park. Think. Park park parkparkparkPARK PARK PARK PARKKKKKKKKKKKKK! Alright. Okay, it wasn't working. "DAMMIT SAVVY." The bird raised its head in alarm. "Sorry, I'm just frustrated. Effing phone. I swear I'll never buy another. Useless pieces of shit. They should all burn. That's it. I'll just light them all on fire. That'll help. It's genius." Not really. He wasn't that stupid; he was just pissed. Which also didn't help.

After a good long time of scanning through a ton of voicemails, on the twenty-third try, Toss finally located the correct one. Jumping up for glee, he wrote the park name down this time...on his hand...in permanent marker. Not noticing, Toss waved bye to his bird and flung himself out the door to his only means of transportation: The Fallacy. It was like a sports car on crack--not the kind you give a 16-year-old for their birthday, no. This was some damn good crack. Not that Toss would know; he never did drugs of any sort. He was lucky (in a way) that his morals kept those substances at bay. It wasn't like anything could really kill him anymore. He'd already died. He was a zombie. BOO.

So then, he searched his GPS in like ten seconds for the park name and found it in like two. Taking off, he spent about five minutes in the air before landing right in front of a park bench. Oh, was that a person? His wing nearly crushed that ant. Good thing he was fortunate or...yeah guts would happen. And sirens and ambulances...and probably jail. Yeah, it woulda sucked. This wasn't war so he couldn't get away with things. Not that Toss ever intentionally killed anyone before. He kinda...just crashed shit into other shit. Yeah. Anyway, he got out and romped down, noticing that the near death-y was none other than DUNSTAN HUE HO' SHIT. Whoops. "Lookit the time, I'm late. Sorry 'bout the wait, buddy. Forgive me?" And please don't blow me up.

.....................................................................................................................................


Fluent in | Amestrian (red) | Ishvallan (darkred) | Crieg (olive) | can read Sign Language (white) | Greed | Everything has a vague Crieg accent.
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Re: Picking up the Pieces

Post by Dunstan Hue on Sun Nov 04, 2012 6:27 pm

When the Fallacy crashed down, Dunstan didn't notice. His head down, immersed in his work, the only thing he suspected about the humming of a spaceship followed by the slam of it landing on the ground was that the Princess was playing up again, business as usual. He was surprised it wasn't on fire. It already had burst into flames twice today. The hum was loud, admittedly, but it stopped quickly so he supposed that all was well.

"Lookit the time, I'm late. Sorry 'bout the wait, buddy. Forgive me?" Dunstan raised his head to address Toss.

"Late? Don't worry abou-ARGH! FUCK!" He raised his head too quickly, bringing his forehead into the red wing with an audible clunk. He rubbed his head as he looked back up. The red sleek beast. Surprisingly, Dunstan felt... underwhelmed. Maybe a distant memory of working on it, or just seeing it in action enough times to be bored by it, or even he built better. He really didn't know, but he at least had the feeling of apathetic recognition.

"Eh, I could've parked closer." He remarked, before looking back to Toss. Now, how to begin this question. "Right, you're probably wondering why I asked you to come here..." He made a pretty general wave to the burnt half of his face, the pink flesh looking no better than it did on the day of the accident. "That whole grenade business. Let's say for sake of example that... umm... it took a bit more than my beautiful face." He sat back, planting his legs on the Princess as it lazily chugged. Chugging despite the fact that the engine wasn't on. Typical Princess.

"I've lost just about almost every single memory in my head." He said, tapping said noggin with one finger. "Friends, family, things I've done, thing's I've said. I've still got pretty much all my skills, I can drive like I could, I can make and plant bombs like I could, I can repair and destroy machines like I could, but I've completely forgotten why." He explained his situation with both honesty but frankness, as if he wasn't that attached to his past. In theory, he wasn't; after all, he couldn't remember most of it so it shouldn't matter. The only solid thing he remembered for sure was, interestingly, the only two things he never told anyone. He did charity work, and he did it for a long time, but only because he believed in karma and was quite sappy by his own admission. Dunstan didn't enjoy doing it, because name a bomber or an arsonist who gave shirts to the homeless. The other thing was both more fun and more sordid...

... the smell of burning, the screams, the people running from the blazing tower, Dunstan standing a few short metres away with a wide grin on his face, binoculars focused on some mafia kingpin that pissed him off once too often as his body disappeared into the flames, along with hundreds of other lives.

Dunstan knew it was wrong, pretty much unforgivable. which is why he said nothing, but he couldn't even remember if Toss did or didn't know, so he decided to elaborate on his situation. "I know basic details; my job was bombing people, and I'm not sure that I was the nicest guy on the planet, but that's it. I'm stuck in a rut, man, and I thought if you knew anything about my life it might spark some back, or at least give me something to do. I'm too bored with my life right now to stay on a directionless path." His singular, beady eye pointed directly at Toss, almost pleading behind the casual veneer of apathetic curiosity. "I'll take anything; the name of a cat would do."
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Re: Picking up the Pieces

Post by Toss Ivanova on Sun Nov 04, 2012 10:46 pm

"Late? Don't worry abou-ARGH! FUCK!"

"Took me a while to find--" Toss froze mid-display of the newly found cellphone, having had waved it like a prize whilst speaking. However, his glorious explanation speech was stunted by the sudden clank of flesh-covered bone smacking hard against the cold metal wing of The Fallacy. Immediately, Toss acted (perhaps due to the fact of this having happened before on some occasion or maybe because he was just that good). "A-ahh I'm sorry about that. I think I may have parked too close."

"Eh, I could've parked closer." Toss laughed in response, loosening his expression of concern and patting the guy on the shoulder like he would a child. Ah, he just hadn't learned the ropes yet. The Ishvallan was clearly more adverse in the art of parking; he had to do it in all sorts of modes of transportation all the time. He wasn't sure what exactly Dunstan had used to get to the park, but he was sure that it most certainly could have been parked closer if he was concerned. "Right, you're probably wondering why I asked you to come here..." Oh, he was? Toss looked up with a blank expression, tilting his head slightly in confusion. It kind of added up seeing as Dun was the one to leave the voice mail on his cellphone, clearly having had asked him here for a reason. Ah hah! He slammed a fist into his palm with a bright expression. So that's what it was! He had something to say to him. He let his hands return back to his sides, nodding fervently. "That whole grenade business."

"Yeah?" He had no idea what he was talking about.

"Let's say for sake of example that... umm... it took a bit more than my beautiful face." Two red eyes blinked back at the plump man with half his face missing. Obviously Toss had noticed that much, but he had no idea that it pertained to a grenade in anyway. That was news to him, and well, it took more than the injury from the guy? What was he talking about? ...Wait, why did that sound so familiar? He tasted vodka suddenly (not that he was complaining), but honestly it was a fuzzy half-recollection of a time when there were too many people in his apartment and sandwiches. Yes, a raided kitchen, two drunk chicks, and SOMEONE WHO TALKS LIKE THIS, later and Toss really just couldn't remember shit. Something about stuff. He woke up in the bathtub that morning. It was awkward, and everyone was already gone by midday when he woke up. He couldn't quite place the events of that night, so he just wrote it off as another one of those times when too much of his alcohol supply was drained--when he shared too much...cringe.

But there was something more...something MOAR. He just couldn't place it: that bit of lost information pertaining to the man standing before him now with that incessant chugging sound that was making him want to tear his hair out and yell 'NOOOOOOOOOOOO' like in those cheesy Hollywood films. He was at a loss--at such a loss it was beginning to make him wonder why alcohol was so cruel as too strip him of his makeshift party's memories. "I've lost just about almost every single memory in my head." THAT. Yeah, THAT. THAT was it. Pieces of recollection drifted back from the fuzzy recesses of his mind--something about that sandwich. "Friends, family, things I've done, thing's I've said. I've still got pretty much all my skills, I can drive like I could, I can make and plant bombs like I could, I can repair and destroy machines like I could, but I've completely forgotten why."

"Why, what?" Toss asked without hesitation, his curiosity peeking whether it killed the cat or not. If he had all his skills, what did it matter? He could drive, right? He drove here. He could make bombs. That was cool. So he could still blow shit up. And he said he could repair things. What was missing, really? Friends, family, experiences? Make new ones. There was nothing holding him back or anything, right? His entire remembering capabilities seemed like it was still intact and all. So what was the problem? A blank slate sure would suck; Toss'd hate having to start afresh, but the poor lard didn't have a choice, did he. Family might be able to be found, but friends, if he didn't find the old ones right away, he could go meet brand new ones. It would be better to start seizing all you could now especially since he was starting over.

"I know basic details; my job was bombing people, and I'm not sure that I was the nicest guy on the planet, but that's it."

"Wait a minute there. I thought you just made bombs?" Blowing shit up was not just meant for his buyers; the term was meant for him. AWSHIT. You learn something new everyday. Not that Toss really knew the guy all that well regardless. And he was right, he never seemed like he could ever fit the description of being the nicest guy on the planet. There just no way coming from a bomb dealer who had sold to a white-haired ruffian kid before Toss even got into the Creig air force. They went way back. Even so, he knew next to nothing, but he didn't really pay much attention to details anyway. Toss was the kinda guy that just did.

"I'm stuck in a rut, man, and I thought if you knew anything about my life it might spark some back, or at least give me something to do. I'm too bored with my life right now to stay on a directionless path." He nodded in understanding. It made sense. What could he tell him, though? His birthday was August or something. He remembered it was hot and it was only mentioned on parting that one time. Sandwiches. He never went anywhere without tools and--WHAT WAS THAT OBNOXIOUS CHUGGING NOISE!? Vodka. He never talked about his family. He never overcharged. "I'll take anything; the name of a cat would do." ...

"Take?" Toss' eyes flashed suddenly, his face going pale. He wants to take something from you. He wants to. He's going to take it from you. Take. Distraction--find a distraction. Toss inhaled a shuddering breath, the surface of his left hand festering. "You have a cat?" He half fell onto the bench beside Dunstan, white knuckles clenching against the plastic-coated metal, fighting against something the other wouldn't even begin to comprehend. He began shaking his head, a battle raging in the confides of crimson eyes. "I...can't--I can't give it to you."


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Fluent in | Amestrian (red) | Ishvallan (darkred) | Crieg (olive) | can read Sign Language (white) | Greed | Everything has a vague Crieg accent.
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Re: Picking up the Pieces

Post by Dunstan Hue on Wed Nov 07, 2012 11:33 am

"Take?" Toss suddenly seemed very shaken. Dunstan raised an eyebrow; what had he said wrong? "You have a cat?" Toss sat down nervously. He looked ready to explode, shaking violently. "I...can't--I can't give it to you." Cat? He can't... what?

"Dude, I don't have a cat." Dunstan said, before reconsidering. He did just ask Toss about his past. "Or do I? Do I have a cat?" Then he thought about what Toss actually said. "Wait, why can't you give me my cat back? I didn't even know I had a cat and you're holding it hostage?!" He almost spat this. You couldn't, nay shouldn't, take advantage of an amnesiac. That was cheating!

CHUD CHUDDER POP!

Just before things could escalate, the Princess spluttered out a big black, treacly blob out of the exhaust which made Dunstan jump, before getting back to work on the bike. "It's frigging lucky for you I don't have any of my explosives or I'd make sure you gave me my cat back..." He looked back, considering the possibility that the shaking gentleman who seemed to freak out over nothing was NOT a reliable source of information. "Are you absolutely sure I had a cat?" And just what's your deal, anyway? You're shaking more than jelly in an earthquake.
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Re: Picking up the Pieces

Post by Toss Ivanova on Sun Nov 11, 2012 9:09 pm

"Dude, I don't have a cat." Toss was horrified. But he had just said that the name of a cat would do? Didn't that imply that he had a cat or something? Honestly, Dunstan Hue mainly came to his place so he wouldn't really know if the guy had pets or not. S'why he asked, so now he knew. The guy didn't have a cat. He found himself nodding, loosening his grip a little on the bench, and sitting up straighter. Okay, he could do this. It was progressing away from taking things from him and more towards absolute confusion. Why would he even mention cats then? It didn't make any sense. "Or do I? Do I have a cat?" Toss blinked fervently. What. Now he was changing his story? How could someone not be sure if they had a cat or not? For christ's sake Savvy wouldn't leave him alone long enough for him to forget his sorry tail feathers. Cat's were kind of elusive (especially outside cats), but seriously how could he not know? He'd have had cat food and stuff where he lived; it would have been obvious. Plus, it wasn't like Toss had inquired much about Dun's personal life. Seriously, even if he had, he didn't remember anyway. "Wait, why can't you give me my cat back? I didn't even know I had a cat and you're holding it hostage?!" ... Wait, so now he had a cat? Did Toss have his cat?! If he did, it had to be dead by now. He wasn't feeding it or anything.

"I, uh, I don't think I have your cat. Do you even have a cat? Why'd you mention one 'cause I've never seen it..." He was kind of nervous now. He was suspected of holding a pet hostage? While it was certainly in his nature, Toss wouldn't necessarily do such a thing to a friend. That was just weird. He tended to stay away from weird...for obvious reasons. Suddenly after he got the words out, black smoke invaded his lungs and made him cough and turn away. THE HELL WAS THAT. He blinked and realized it was coming from that bike Dun seemed to be tirelessly working on. A shame to see mechanics wasting away in the throws of death. Black smoke usually meant it would become unsalvageable, but Toss knew this guy better than that; he'd be able to save it.

"It's frigging lucky for you I don't have any of my explosives or I'd make sure you gave me my cat back..."

"Explosives? I have some." The Ishvallan reached into his pockets, dodging the fuses with his metal, ringed fingers. He grasped a couple and took Dun's hand, thrusting them into it. "Got these from you a long while back. You can have those since I have boxes at home." Insert crazy eyes here: widened red eyes that hardly knew danger, spiky, white hair thrashing in the night wind. He laughed, but immediately grinned, hitting Dun's knee as if a slap joke was just cast. "Except I don't have your cat."

"Are you absolutely sure I had a cat?"

"I don't think you had a cat goddammit! You were the one who started it."

"And just what's your deal, anyway? You're shaking more than jelly in an earthquake."

"I thought you were asking about yourself, not about me."

.....................................................................................................................................


Fluent in | Amestrian (red) | Ishvallan (darkred) | Crieg (olive) | can read Sign Language (white) | Greed | Everything has a vague Crieg accent.
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Re: Picking up the Pieces

Post by Dunstan Hue on Sun Nov 25, 2012 10:38 pm

"Explosives? I have some. Got these from you a long while back. You can have those since I have boxes at home." Dunstan could do little as Toss thrust a few small bombs into his hand. The bomber looked at the bombs for a while, the more analytical, mechanical parts of his brain took rein. Toss went unheard as Dunstan's eye almost bugged out as he peered at the bombs.

"... well, either you're lying, or I was crap before I lost my memories." He said proudly, before pulling a pencil out of his pocket and prepared to stab the bombs, a maddened grin on his face. Not even Dunstan was safe from his own ego; he'd boast that he was better than himself, and indeed has, just did and would continue to do for a long time. With a lot more energy and lack of regard for life than one expects from the process of bomb-making, Dunstan shanked the pencil deep into the bombs, penetrating the hard metallic casing, before yanking out a few wires dangling off the pencil, which he spun to gather up the wiring as he peered into the bomb itself. "Hmm, needs a bit more kerosene but we'll work with what we've got. That should be in that second blob, there isn't enough..." Dunstan's ramblings became quieter and more personal as he began to toy with the explosives that all began to tick ominously, with Dunstan either not noticing or caring. His random hand movements became a lot less controlled as it went gone, included stabbing the bombs. It didn't look at all sane, but things got out of control when Dunstan fixed the explosives together with duct tape, before proudly showing it to Toss.

"There we go!" He said, offering the now singular bomb back to Toss, the bomb itself violently shaking. "Made it into a bomb that's powerful enough to take out a fucking skyscraper! Just touch the red button and run away, and don't let it near water or it'll set on fire... wait, you said I don't have a cat, right?" He pondered a little to this answer. "Well, it's a start at least. Are you sure you don't know anything else? Just something to keep me occupied, I'm bored stiffless and I thought chasing up my past might shake things up a notch"

(As for what Toss says, his history's in his app but it's vague enough that you can add all sorts of weird ass stuff you like)
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Re: Picking up the Pieces

Post by Toss Ivanova on Mon Nov 26, 2012 5:47 pm

"...well, either you're lying, or I was crap before I lost my memories." The eye was bugging out. It was totally bugging out. It looked like it was going to fall out of his skull--or, well, half of his skull. The other half was a bit...yeah. Toss cringed, trying not to look sympathetic. It was easy now for him to feel sympathy towards people. He never used to be that way, but after being saved by the queen bitch and healing back from the dead, he felt mortality bleed away into something else entirely. HA-HA sorry man, I can heal from all sorts of shit. In a sense, he sort of wanted to tell Dun about it, yet at the same time, he never wanted to reveal the inner secrets lurking just out of reach. Even a bugging out eye couldn't determine just what Toss was hiding from everyone. It was better that way even if he did end up feeling sympathy like a coward. Sorry. It just happens, he guessed. It feel sort of unnatural coming from a guy that laughed danger in the face.

"Don't be so hard on yourself! They work really well--serve their purpose and all. You're saying you can make better now?" Toss broke out another smile, twirling one of the bombs fearlessly around in his fingers. The fuses were dangerously close to the metal rings on his fingers, easily able to click together and create a spark. BOOM! Just kidding. "At least you remember enough to progress right? But nothing about yourself...that really sucks." The Ishvallan paused, tapping his chin in thought. There wasn't really much he could do for the poor guy. He just didn't know much. It wasn't his style to pry and ask useless things of people despite asking random questions sometimes... It was pissing him off, really. Cause what if Dunstan had slipping something in in passing and he just didn't remember it because he was a idiot? It would mean that he was failing his friend. He had nothing to give, but giving, in and of itself, was just impossible for him anyway. That's right. He frowned, flexing his fingers, and shoving the rest of the bombs away.

When he looked up, Dun was holding a pencil violently like a mentally disturbed child with a murder wish. Toss froze in horror. Wait. No. That's--that's a waste. His heart thumped loudly in his ears, hands poised just within reach of prevention. No! It was too late already, the man began babbling to himself about technicalities. He rolled his eyes in boredom and laid his head back to gaze at the stars. To each their own. "There we go!" Hm? Toss turned, lost in thought, to see duct tape affixed bombs that looked less like a killing mechanism and more like a high school student's get-rich-quick scheme. A bomb was placed in his hands, quivering like it was alive. A skyscraper--that much power? It could then take out an enemy's plane. It was...it was a masterpiece. "Just touch the red button and run away, and don't let it near water or it'll set on fire..." He was nodding fervently, but stopped. "wait, you said I don't have a cat, right?"

"Right. Don't think you do."

"Are you sure you don't know anything else? Just something to keep me occupied, I'm bored stiffless and I thought chasing up my past might shake things up a notch."

"Uhhhmmmm." He kicked up dirt with his white boots, chewing on his lip as he thought. "Stuff about your personality, but nothin' about your past really. I think you boasted one time that you took out a crime ring singlehandedly. But I took out the Kremlin." Cough. "By accident." Cough. "And your dad owned a McDonald's. Or that could have been someone else. I'm not really sure." He sat up a little. "I know you mentioned your parents once, so I think they're in Carraig?" He shrugged with a inquisitive look. "Speaking of Carraig, are you looking for a job?" Toss stood up with animation, poking at his precious ship. "A festival is coming up in Central, Amestris. We were invited to display our skills. I'm going to fly this baby into space. But we need an able mechanic we can trust..."

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Fluent in | Amestrian (red) | Ishvallan (darkred) | Crieg (olive) | can read Sign Language (white) | Greed | Everything has a vague Crieg accent.
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Re: Picking up the Pieces

Post by Dunstan Hue on Sun Dec 09, 2012 7:53 pm

"Right. Don't think you do." Well, no cat, at least. Dunstan wasn't supposed to be feeding anything. He was slightly reassured that he wasn't going to find a faithful companion half-starved to death.

"Stuff about your personality, but nothin' about your past really. I think you boasted one time that you took out a crime ring singlehandedly. But I took out the Kremlin." A small cough. "By accident." Dunstan raised his only eyebrow suspiciously.

"Are we thinking of the same Kremlin?" He asked, before snorting loudly and proudly. "Well, it's a start. Not as good or cool as me, but a start at least." The bomber nodded through the rest of the details; nothing spectacular. A parent working at McDonalds, maybe, and that was it. Dunstan nodded a little, neither unimpressed nor disappointed with the answers he got. Nothing to really excite, which was what he was after, but his parents hadn't been killed by an army of mutated wasps emerging from meteorites. "Well, I suppose I'll see if I can chase them up. I'll be on my..."

"Speaking of Carraig, are you looking for a job? A festival is coming up in Central, Amestris. We were invited to display our skills. I'm going to fly this baby into space. But we need an able mechanic we can trust..."

Dunstan looked up when he heard this. Now here was an interesting prospect. Working on what appeared to be a spaceship. In a whole new country, no less. Spreading the number of people who knew his face. A wonderful opportunity to make money.

"Well, I'm not an able mechanic; that's an understatement. I'm essentially a god of machines." He explained. "What kind of work and pay are we looking at? Fixing? Driving? Exploding"
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Re: Picking up the Pieces

Post by Toss Ivanova on Mon Dec 17, 2012 10:47 pm

"Are we thinking of the same Kremlin?"

"The only." He placed his hands proudly on his hips and stuck out his chest in boast. Except he really wasn't that proud of killing a shit ton of people. He wasn't...a killer; he was a pilot. There was a difference. At least he thought so. "Well...used to be." He looked to the side, hiding the shame that momentarily slithered into his ethereal red eyes. He knew at least Dun couldn't care less about the people in the equation so long as the thing in which he was blowing up came down. Who cared if there were people stupid enough to still be inside? Toss did. He cared about life...even if it no longer mattered to him personally; not everyone was immortal. Like Iris for instance. If that chimera--what was his name...Kit had actually been a murderer and killed her, she'd be dead right now. Nothing. He could...so easily fathom it--he'd been so close to falling into the void and vanishing forever. So close, but now... Well, now Toss had hardly anything to fear.

"Well, it's a start. Not as good or cool as me, but a start at least." A start? Maybe that's what it was. It was a start...that's all. Would Gavin ever send him into war--into battle? Would have have to fight--have to kill? Would that ever been an objective? He was...he was a militant. Even if he flew planes, tested them for their worth, crashed them, designed them, working on them, etc., he was still a soldier through and through. If Vanity called for his assistance again, would he go? Would he abandon everything he had here and work for that bitch? No, no he'd never leave Gavin again...not for anything. It didn't matter if she tried to destroy her creation, he had an ultimate shield and many other tricks up his sleeves. The blue-haired whore of the North could suck it! He was not a slave. There were more important things. Somehow this meeting with his old friend, Dunstan, was reminding him just what he was doing all this for.

There was a slight pause while the man thought over Toss' blurted proposal. He waited, arms falling from his hips to hang slack and querying. A struggled expression found its way onto his face. What if he declined? Toss was suddenly unsure. Maybe this was too much? If he couldn't even remember who he was...then that time when they were drinking together, he had hardly known who Toss even was. Yet here he was asking questions about himself...that Toss just couldn't answer. It was a crime. He felt both nonchalant and pained about the whole ordeal, dancing among the tombstones of memory. "I'm essentially a god of machines."

"Oh, I know."

"What kind of work and pay are we looking at? Fixing? Driving? Exploding"

Toss played with a stiff piece of white hair for a second, staring at The Fallacy as if the spaceship could answer for him. "Her." He pointed, eyes alight with a strange energy that always took him when speaking about flying. "I would like to request your help in setting her up at the festival for take off. For pay we will have to speak to King Gavin. How's that sound? There could be no one else he'd trust with the task.

[EXIT THREAD]

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Fluent in | Amestrian (red) | Ishvallan (darkred) | Crieg (olive) | can read Sign Language (white) | Greed | Everything has a vague Crieg accent.
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