James Tiberius Kirk (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
universal_charm) wrote2013-04-05 08:50 pm
universal_charm) wrote2013-04-05 08:50 pm
Entry tags:
8th World: Ramifications [ Video / Action ]
[ video ]
[ Kirk's face appears in the journals, distant, cold - at least for the Captain. His head had been itching all morning, and all day yesterday, waiting, hoping it was just Spock needing alone time, but...]
Spock's been kidnapped, so, if you had anything planned with him for the next week... well, going to have to put it off. Sorry.
[ How does he know? Well, that's for him to know and you to pry out of him. But that's his message for everyone, and perhaps it's more of reassurance for himself, though he doesn't like it, not one bit. He ends his message there, though. He'd answer questions about it later, if there were any
Though how to explain to Arya what this was, and that it could happen to him or her or anyone if someone hadn't done it already. Fun.]
[ action ]
[ Kirk can't abide sitting around and moping. It's not him, even though a part of him wants to. First the draft and now this? Sure he had been told it wasn't really the Malnosso's fault, but who else do you blame for this? He wished he could wrap his hands around one of their throats and squeeze and squeeze until the life was out of them, but that wouldn't accomplish much, and he'd probably get in trouble with the Fleet for it, wouldn't he?
Since his favorite option wasn't really an option, he voted for some physical exercise instead.
Sweats on, he went out for a jog around the edges of their little village and then back in through the streets. The burn kept his mind sharped and focused without letting it drift to places it should not. Like... no, no don't go there. He and Spock had talked that out and he wasn't supposed to go there. Sweat dripped down his face and neck, staining his shirt, and he kept pushing until his legs gave and he collapsed by the fountain, gasping for air between dunking his face into the water. He would worry about possible sanitation concerns later.
Later, he would find his way into the Battle Dome, calling up a simulation. He didn't want to bother any of his friends/teachers for a lesson at the moment, preferring to pummel his opponent with the private bubble of his own rage. He keyed his opponent as one of his well remembered bar thugs (and might have born a bit of a resemblance to a certain crew member on his ship with the endearing nickname of "cupcake"). Out of old habit now his arms were rising into the defense postures he'd learned from people like Steve and... and Zevran, feet shuffling into position. One breathe, another, go in for the strike....
If you didn't catch Kirk there, they'd probably find him later, sitting outside Buffy's bar with a beer in hand. He wasn't prone to drinking when upset, or at least he was trying not to be, but neither did he want to be in there, around... around people or huddled in a corner. So he sat outside in crispe air, taking slowly draughts from a brown bottle and looking up at the sky and suddenly cringing, recalling another guy's rather gut churning revelation - those stars were fake, a simulation for their benefit.
And because he felt like being petty in that singular moment, he tossed his hand up, middle finger raised in defiance. It was small, but it made him feel a little better, at least.]
[ ooc: respond to Kirk via the journal, or catch him jogging around town, at the Battle Dome, or out drinking in the evening. ]
[ Kirk's face appears in the journals, distant, cold - at least for the Captain. His head had been itching all morning, and all day yesterday, waiting, hoping it was just Spock needing alone time, but...]
Spock's been kidnapped, so, if you had anything planned with him for the next week... well, going to have to put it off. Sorry.
[ How does he know? Well, that's for him to know and you to pry out of him. But that's his message for everyone, and perhaps it's more of reassurance for himself, though he doesn't like it, not one bit. He ends his message there, though. He'd answer questions about it later, if there were any
Though how to explain to Arya what this was, and that it could happen to him or her or anyone if someone hadn't done it already. Fun.]
[ action ]
[ Kirk can't abide sitting around and moping. It's not him, even though a part of him wants to. First the draft and now this? Sure he had been told it wasn't really the Malnosso's fault, but who else do you blame for this? He wished he could wrap his hands around one of their throats and squeeze and squeeze until the life was out of them, but that wouldn't accomplish much, and he'd probably get in trouble with the Fleet for it, wouldn't he?
Since his favorite option wasn't really an option, he voted for some physical exercise instead.
Sweats on, he went out for a jog around the edges of their little village and then back in through the streets. The burn kept his mind sharped and focused without letting it drift to places it should not. Like... no, no don't go there. He and Spock had talked that out and he wasn't supposed to go there. Sweat dripped down his face and neck, staining his shirt, and he kept pushing until his legs gave and he collapsed by the fountain, gasping for air between dunking his face into the water. He would worry about possible sanitation concerns later.
Later, he would find his way into the Battle Dome, calling up a simulation. He didn't want to bother any of his friends/teachers for a lesson at the moment, preferring to pummel his opponent with the private bubble of his own rage. He keyed his opponent as one of his well remembered bar thugs (and might have born a bit of a resemblance to a certain crew member on his ship with the endearing nickname of "cupcake"). Out of old habit now his arms were rising into the defense postures he'd learned from people like Steve and... and Zevran, feet shuffling into position. One breathe, another, go in for the strike....
If you didn't catch Kirk there, they'd probably find him later, sitting outside Buffy's bar with a beer in hand. He wasn't prone to drinking when upset, or at least he was trying not to be, but neither did he want to be in there, around... around people or huddled in a corner. So he sat outside in crispe air, taking slowly draughts from a brown bottle and looking up at the sky and suddenly cringing, recalling another guy's rather gut churning revelation - those stars were fake, a simulation for their benefit.
And because he felt like being petty in that singular moment, he tossed his hand up, middle finger raised in defiance. It was small, but it made him feel a little better, at least.]
[ ooc: respond to Kirk via the journal, or catch him jogging around town, at the Battle Dome, or out drinking in the evening. ]
Re: [Action]
[ He nodded, another sip, rubbing the back of his neck. ]
I just... I'm angry about the whole thing still, you know? There was no damn reason for us to be there...
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[It was a calculated way of looking at things. Practical. She could understand their thinking, their necessity in this, even if she didn't like being one of those statistics.]
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Some blue guy told me that they're trying to... get us home. I wanted to believe it, at the time, but, you know... not so sure anymore.
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Who knows. Maybe they're just playing with things they don't yet understand or know how to control. Maybe that's what they're trying to figure out.
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[ He shook his head and finished his bottle of water, crunching it in his hand. He looked up at Natasha and reached up, smoothing those curls against her neck. ]
Are those pig tails back there?
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[His move surprises her, her eyes widening a moment as her gaze darts to his face and she goes still. But then she relaxes, gives a laugh and nods.] They might be.
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[ He chuckled, but seemed to sober again and took another swig of water. ]
Do you.. ever regret it? Being what you are?
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