yippee ki-yay motherfucker

# lasthail . hail  mary  ,        full  of  grace  , holy  mary  ,        mother  of  god  ,        pray  for  us  sinners  ,      now  and  at  the  hour  of  our  death  .

Independent ,     private ,   &.   plot-based  rp  blog  for  dr. captain ryland grace  from  andy weir's project hail mary  (novel)  &.   project hail mary  (2026) .  book-canon  with  movie  influences .  written  by  kat ,  she/her ,  30 .  i  am  not  affiliated  with  andy weir .     read  my  carrd  !     no  minors  please .

and so, the sparrow's wings never could truly be clipped. he would find his way alone, no matter the cost, lest he be eaten by the guilt that came with no effort at all. even if trying meant failure; proving right to the claims of recklessness. he remembered breaking free from tedious briefing with more shame in his heart than what he started with, the commander's reprimand, the end of the day relief his body was in one piece.

" you kept your word. " quieted observation from where he sat, knees to his chest, the ridges of cybernetic spine jutting out like an arching feline. he needn't look towards familiar footsteps, his face angled away simply so he didn't have to. it was thankful, despite his posture. " i could not allow the danger to my home to continue, neglected. " jaw shifted. " in doing so, i only made a fool of myself. "

He seats himself comfortably besides him the way they'd been able towards the twilight years of Blackwatch before everything had flown a kamikaze trajectory. Cole breathes out, emphatic, "There's nothing foolish 'bout wanting to protect your home, Genji. Could've gone better, sure, but it could've gone 'lot worse." He plants a consolidating palm on his shoulder, squeezes, "I'm just glad we got you back in one piece."

There's a coldness that overtakes him in the instant after Cole's curiosity digs deeper.

Hakkai's smile becomes closed-shut, an involuntary reaction rather than a hostile one to a question that picks at still-fresh wounds. There's a sudden tension to every part of his body. Unbidden, his fingers twitch, itching to clench themselves into the same fists that held his utility knife on the night of—

"No," Hakkai answers, trying and failing not to show how strained the answer is. "No, I don't imagine she would have been. But she's dead, so thankfully the consequences of my actions can't do very much to her."

A distance has settled itself into Hakkai's voice, disguised by the same polite tone he uses to greet anyone and everyone he doesn't care to allow close. Then his head, which has remained fixed in its position to allow him to bore a hole into the ceiling with his eye, returns to holding itself upright atop his shoulders. The frost melts all at once from him as he changes the subject; "I don't suppose you've lived even half as orthodox a life? You really don't strike me as the type."

His head dips, and his voice follows its direction in an octave lowered, "I'm sorry for your loss, Hakkai." No more smokescreen and obfuscating trail dust. He's earnest, expression emphatic, and he's not surprised when the question is turned to him.

Cole smiles a humorless thing, but he is laxed in this cot, flesh and prosthetic hand clasped leisurely together in some facsimile of a prayer as his arms hang loosely from their perch on his knee caps.  "Lost my arm to a machine workin' on some mega farm and fell on some bad times," He unfurls to some leisure lean back; lungs decompressing over the ache of a cigarette craving, the dirty work of exhuming a grave. "Met a woman." He chuffs and his eyes dip down, corners shearing off into crow's feet. His head knocks forward and shakes, grin bowing off to some crooked, wry thing, "And she was one hell of a woman."

tiny box as a hole in the ground, extended by rickety stairs that descended from tightened hatch. johnny remembered asking about it, upon arriving to now familiar middle of nowhere and getting a lay of the land, none convinced it would ever come into any use. wrong, like he was about a lot of things. he was learning an awful lot about the weather during his stay; overhead clouds unlike he had ever seen before. come to learn it was far more serious than an ordinary gloom, which meant holing up in a shoebox until rumble and roll quieted down.

sitting still, never something he was good at. not only used to rounding a race track but running headfirst into danger. attempting to stop it. perhaps the human torch should be no match for a tornado, knowing him, he'd still try. a science lecture from reed was hidden somewhere.