#machineborne

This must be Kalmar. He was easy to identify: he really did wear nothing but those sad shitty robes.

This was not a conversation Rowan wanted to be having. He was unhappy enough Red was here, of all places; Rowan would prefer to forget he existed. He wanted to disappear, and Red represented a shining silver thread that tied him to his family Sofi and Garrot.

Nonchalant, he shrugged, cracking open a soda. "How the hell should I know? People get pissy with me all the time; he's not special."

"Fair enough." He grins at them, whatever you say, cheerfully suspending judgment on the truth of the matter. "Hell, the number of people who decide you offend them for no reason whatsoever --"

Tsk. Kalmar folds a hand behind his head and lifts it back onto the cushions, goes back to staring at the ceiling. "He's mentioned you quite a bit," he muses, carelessly. "Mostly to spout insults, mind you, but still, good lot of headspace. Pretty damn embarrassing for him, hm?"

Sofi cups the tiny figurine in her hands. “Divine purpose..? What purpose?“ It was so small… and round… and cute… It was hers now.

Red just looked at her. "Divine purpose," he said solemnly. His hands were covered in paint. A little array of figurines marched across the coffee table, some marked with stripes and strokes of paint, while others were decorated with splashes of color that soaked their miniature bodies. Still others were bare, dried, white clay blank and waiting for his creative touch.

Rowan nodded, giving the weird curve tool thoughtful consideration, before they started counting off their picks on their fingers. “Not bad. I gotta give it to the knife, my classic. A fork’s a helluva shocker if you can manage it, stalls ‘em better than any stun gun. Tin can lids will fuck you up; they’re dangerous as hell, especially the big ones restaurants toss. Frozen bone will really fuck you up too. I’d love to try stabbing something with the nose of a swordfish someday. How many’s that, is that five?“

Red looked up from his desk, staring off into the distance as he counted on his fingers. A knife, fork, discarded can lid, and bone amounted to four as he said, "Sword nose doesn't count. Besides, you can't stab someone with a swordfish nose. Maybe beat them up pretty bad, but not stab them. 's not how it's used. Pick another one."

Sofi shivered as Nicole’s fingers brushed the back of her neck, gathering up every last lock of hair for braiding. “You know, it’s been ages since I’ve had anyone else do this for me.“

"I bet," Nicole said. "You live by yourself right? It's not easy to do this kinda thing by yourself, cuz it's really time-consuming and pretty hard if you don't know what you're doing. Like I've been doing this forever and I still have to get my mom to come help me sometimes."

She laughed lightly, gathering and twisting Sofi's hair and looping a hairtie around the end of the braids. Then, gently, she took the braids, wrapped them around Sofi's head and pinned the hairdo in place. "There you go. The only thing left is makeup, clothes, and shoes."

“After awakening with no memory, this fellow finds himself caught in an armed conflict between a corporate army and a collection of freedom fighters, battling for control of a metal junkyard planet far removed from all the rest of intergalactic society.

“After awakening with no memory, this fellow finds himself caught in an armed conflict between a corporate army and a collection of freedom fighters, battling for control of a metal junkyard planet far removed from all the rest of intergalactic society.

“After awakening with no memory, this fellow finds himself caught in an armed conflict between a corporate army and a collection of freedom fighters, battling for control of a metal junkyard planet far removed from all the rest of intergalactic society.