He was born in a cage. His mother, bless her, was not exceptionally bright because sometimes mutagens do the exact opposite of what they were meant to do. The scientists on Half-World were never particularly concerned with things like "how is 89P13 going to fare in the wild," because the answer to that, Doc, is that he wasn't.
Rocket lucked out that he got the urban sprawl and all the stores he could ever steal food from until he started making a semi-honest living. Unfortunately, it means he is extremely ill-prepared for wilderness life. The last time he went "camping," he spent the entire time building traps (which he has been doing here) and stealing everyone's leftover snacks they didn't bring to Ego's planet with them.
There are no snacks to steal here, and everything feels like a handout when people are looking at you like "dude why don't you get your own." And after that, it becomes a matter of pride.
And, to make a long story short, Rocket is now over at the lagoon, on the edge of the shore, trying to catch a goddamned fish.
And he fucking sucks at it.
It's especially funny because he hates water and looks like the very act of being in the water is making him miserable on top of his fishing failings.
After the third one has slipped from his grasp and he's ended up pitched face first into the water, he scrambles back to the shore, dripping wet, and lets out one long frustrated growl, followed by an even louder, more frustrated.] SONUVABITCH.
[ The group is hunting for food. She takes no handouts, does not offer the labour of her own hands. Fair's fair, though — if someone presses it into her hands she presses something into theirs. The open sky and fresh air are more of a relief than she'll ever admit. ]
[ — as are the fish. She hears him cursing through the trees, and so is already smiling when she emerges. ]
[ She has two short spears with her: wooden sticks, the ends sharpened by her axe. But Asha was catching fish with her fingers since she was very young, perched far more precariously on the rocks of Pyke. ]
Watch me.
[ Two minutes later, out comes one, she tosses it on the bank. ]
[He observes and, quite unaccustomed to being out of his element, looks upon her victory with sullen dissatisfaction. But for all that he is a bit annoyed with how easy this comes to her and how difficult it comes to him- and it shouldn't, because he is a highly evolved creature who was uplifted beyond the need to hunt and gather or so he'll keep telling himself.
Failure is just not a master he willingly accepts.
Rather than just wade back in, however, he picks up one of her spears, which are far longer than he is tall. That doesn't bother him- most weapons he picks up are significantly bigger than he is.]
[Accustomed to large weapons as he is, a spear is a much more difficult weapon to wield than a gun. He adjusts it a few times in his hands before he gets a grip on it that doesn't cause it to drag and gets closer to the edge. This seems a better alternative, because he doesn't have to wade into the water.
As the fish begin to panic from Asha's intervention, Rocket waits. This is a simple tactic- one he's applied on much larger enemies. It shouldn't be hard to wait until they're clustered in a panicked circle and then- THERE. He slams the spear at an angle into what he hopes is the tasty body of a fish.]
I got it! I got it! [Unfortunately, being thirty pounds soaking wet (which he is) means that there's some unfortunate physics at work here. As the spear sticks, it springs upwards, carrying Rocket with it, until there is now a spear stuck in the muddy lake bottom with a very confused raccoonoid clinging to it.]
[ It is a strategy that works regardless of his skill with a spear — Asha's spotted at least three fish she can catch by hand. ]
[ She laughs, a clear, bright sound. Hey, he didn't say she couldn't do that. She walks over to pry it off the lake bed, and waits for him to steady himself on the shore. Curiously, ]
[He drops back down onto the shore, thankful that he didn't end up back in the water, though feeling about as humiliated as he would be, if he had. He runs his paws over his head in frustration, making wet fur stick up at odd angles.]
That wasn't something I ever had to learn! If I wanted food, I stole it. I lived off the streets, not the freakin' wilderness! It ain't like I was born out here.
[He thrusts a hand at the woods around them. So maybe he's a little defensive of his inability to do a simple task. His IQ is off the charts. He can reverse engineer just about anything he gets his hands on and make weapons out of scrap.
[Oh there's a question. One that inspires a brief flinch, because there's no way to wheedle out of it and also no way to really explain it to someone who is from a society that hasn't embraced firearms yet.]
No, I'm the only thing like me anywhere. It's a whole thing.
[ Though — a different way, she was not created like him, nor did she grow up needing to steal scraps from others. But the loneliness of that position — she understands. ]
[He gives her a sidelong look.] Y'know, you'd probably be a lot more comfortable in my neck of the universe- if it hadn't gotten eaten. Badass warrior broads who can make men piss themselves in terror with a look do pretty well out in the galaxy.
[ The bitterness of this knowledge is new and growing. There are men here who do not look at her body like it belongs to them, or seek ownership during conversation. She thinks them soft, true, but it is as one starved sitting before a grand feast, with food too rich for her stomach. ]
Can you start a fire? It is quicker if I do all the fishing.
[He digs into his pocket producing a a tiny lighter, and begins dragging a few dry sticks and leaves into a pile. It's not the most handsome fire there ever was, but at this juncture, doing anything correctly is worthy of pride for Rocket, especially when it comes to lighting the fire with nothing more than a snap of a light to ignite the kindling and get it burning lightly.]
[ She eyes the lighter. Another on a long list of items Asha has to acquire and master. She has been glancing over at others without making it seem too obvious — many say she has an accent, and many do not mean that kindly. ]
[ Asha brings the fish over, wrapping them in leaves to make them easier to carry. She sets two stones by the fire, balancing some thin sticks on them. Unwrapping the fish, she lays them over the sticks. It's rudimentary, but without a pot for soup or a metal rod for a spit, this will do. She has eaten worse. ]
[ Fun fact: she's actually never done this before. Cooking and making fires is work for smallfolk and thralls. Asha sees it and knows the principle, but little else. ]
Swim or drown. [That gets a weak chuckle out of him.] Shit. I've been livin' large for so long I forgot what the hell it was like to need to be that adaptable.
Here's hopin' you get somewhere to put a fleet when we get where we're goin'. Or I could always just teach you how to embrace a more superior kind of ship. [He waves a hand at the set-up.] Fair trade, so I don't feel as pathetic for being a survivalist wash-out.
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beatupgrass) wrote2017-07-02 05:08 am
ACTION; for Asha Greyjoy
He was born in a cage. His mother, bless her, was not exceptionally bright because sometimes mutagens do the exact opposite of what they were meant to do. The scientists on Half-World were never particularly concerned with things like "how is 89P13 going to fare in the wild," because the answer to that, Doc, is that he wasn't.
Rocket lucked out that he got the urban sprawl and all the stores he could ever steal food from until he started making a semi-honest living. Unfortunately, it means he is extremely ill-prepared for wilderness life. The last time he went "camping," he spent the entire time building traps (which he has been doing here) and stealing everyone's leftover snacks they didn't bring to Ego's planet with them.
There are no snacks to steal here, and everything feels like a handout when people are looking at you like "dude why don't you get your own." And after that, it becomes a matter of pride.
And, to make a long story short, Rocket is now over at the lagoon, on the edge of the shore, trying to catch a goddamned fish.
And he fucking sucks at it.
It's especially funny because he hates water and looks like the very act of being in the water is making him miserable on top of his fishing failings.
After the third one has slipped from his grasp and he's ended up pitched face first into the water, he scrambles back to the shore, dripping wet, and lets out one long frustrated growl, followed by an even louder, more frustrated.] SONUVABITCH.
[That was subtle.]
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[ — as are the fish. She hears him cursing through the trees, and so is already smiling when she emerges. ]
You should sing to the fish, they may be moved.
[ B) B) B) ]
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Double dammit.] That's real cute. [He throws his arms out.] Well, get a big eyeful of the loser who can't catch a damn fish.
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Watch me.
[ Two minutes later, out comes one, she tosses it on the bank. ]
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Failure is just not a master he willingly accepts.
Rather than just wade back in, however, he picks up one of her spears, which are far longer than he is tall. That doesn't bother him- most weapons he picks up are significantly bigger than he is.]
What about these?
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Stand at the edge. I will chase them towards you.
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As the fish begin to panic from Asha's intervention, Rocket waits. This is a simple tactic- one he's applied on much larger enemies. It shouldn't be hard to wait until they're clustered in a panicked circle and then- THERE. He slams the spear at an angle into what he hopes is the tasty body of a fish.]
I got it! I got it! [Unfortunately, being thirty pounds soaking wet (which he is) means that there's some unfortunate physics at work here. As the spear sticks, it springs upwards, carrying Rocket with it, until there is now a spear stuck in the muddy lake bottom with a very confused raccoonoid clinging to it.]
Don't say a word...
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[ She laughs, a clear, bright sound. Hey, he didn't say she couldn't do that. She walks over to pry it off the lake bed, and waits for him to steady himself on the shore. Curiously, ]
How is it you cannot hunt?
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That wasn't something I ever had to learn! If I wanted food, I stole it. I lived off the streets, not the freakin' wilderness! It ain't like I was born out here.
[He thrusts a hand at the woods around them. So maybe he's a little defensive of his inability to do a simple task. His IQ is off the charts. He can reverse engineer just about anything he gets his hands on and make weapons out of scrap.
But he can't
catch
a fucking
fish.]
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Are there many like you, in the city you come from?
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No, I'm the only thing like me anywhere. It's a whole thing.
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[ Though — a different way, she was not created like him, nor did she grow up needing to steal scraps from others. But the loneliness of that position — she understands. ]
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[ The bitterness of this knowledge is new and growing. There are men here who do not look at her body like it belongs to them, or seek ownership during conversation. She thinks them soft, true, but it is as one starved sitting before a grand feast, with food too rich for her stomach. ]
Can you start a fire? It is quicker if I do all the fishing.
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[He digs into his pocket producing a a tiny lighter, and begins dragging a few dry sticks and leaves into a pile. It's not the most handsome fire there ever was, but at this juncture, doing anything correctly is worthy of pride for Rocket, especially when it comes to lighting the fire with nothing more than a snap of a light to ignite the kindling and get it burning lightly.]
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[ Asha brings the fish over, wrapping them in leaves to make them easier to carry. She sets two stones by the fire, balancing some thin sticks on them. Unwrapping the fish, she lays them over the sticks. It's rudimentary, but without a pot for soup or a metal rod for a spit, this will do. She has eaten worse. ]
We may turn them soon.
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So he's just staring at their little makeshift campfire with an incredulous expression.]
You, uh... Must have to do this a lot, huh?
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Swim, or drown. I make my choice.
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[And he's not ashamed to admit it.]
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I had my own fleet. My crew would die for me. [ She values loyalty far more than fear. ] They may sleep, but I am still their captain.
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[ etc. etc. ]
But I wish to hear what you think I should have.
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