galratech | (no subject)

(no subject)

[Shiro doesn't remember falling, but it feels a little like he's been dropped off a high building and frankly, given the likelihood that he was teleported here, for whatever reason... he doubts, with his luck, that it was a gentle landing. He deeply considers lying prone for a few more minutes, but the sound of excited voices filter through to his awareness past the pain, talking about a 'beam of light'. Before he can think about how much he hurts, he's rolling into a tense, ready crouch, just in time for several large shapes to break through the foliage. Shiro can only gape at the variety of the figures that fan out to surround him, scales and vines and wings. He hasn't seen such a menagerie gathered in one place since, well... the coliseum.

It's not a comforting comparison.

Weary dread sluices through Shiro's body as they circle him, jeering. He seems weak! and King Darc will know just what to do with this one. and He'll be quite a prize, with this last line, an echo from the past again, ratcheting his pulse up until it feels like his chest will break. Though Shiro knows from their tone it won't do any good, he warns them to back off just once before lunging at the nearest one, hoping surprise will give him enough edge to run.]

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... [squeezes his birthmark, frowning]

Quintessence... I never imagined there would be another source of magic.

Something to pursue later. You're more worried about making us a target than being a target yourself?

[Hm... Given his markings, the gesture seems significant.]

I am. From what I understand, just the fact that I showed up in your territory wounded could have caused issues, right?

Obviously! But you don't even know us.

That's not really a good reason to get you involved in a war. Voltron and the Paladins—my team—Are supposed to protect peace. For everyone.

[he seems baffled.]

The-- Paladins? Voltron? Never heard of them.

Maybe your ancients had. But that's beside the point. The last thing I want to do is cause problems for your people, King Darc. It sounds like there's been enough suffering on both sounds already.

[BAFFLED!!!]

. . .

Hah... I've learned that there are people like you, who care about peace.

I didn't think I'd ever meet another one.

Fine. I'll believe you. As for your ability to cause problems, don't underestimate us. You're in no position to do anything but recover. You're a refugee here; if anything, caring for you will be to our benefit. I need to get the Deimos here adjusted to human presence.

[After all that, he's getting told to relax... The Deimos are a pretty interesting people.]

I'll do whatever I can to help.

[man wtf!!!!]

... I find it hard to believe you only wanted to ask about Diezweld. They haven't mattered for months.

Edited 2017-01-24 06:30 (UTC)

I wanted to know a little more about what was going on. But to be honest I was more curious about you.

[Darc straightens up, alert. He still sits very casually, so far entirely against the ground or rocks. Nothing very royal, but the intensity of his gaze on Shiro demands respect anyway.

Though he feels like he's reeling. He hasn't met any new humans in a long time. And here is another human who wants peace, who asks after his people's struggles. Who knows nothing of their war, and doesn't look at Darc with disgust, or even fear. Covered in scars, an escaped warrior slave. And curious about him. Darc's heart pounds a bit.]

What do you want to know?

Edited 2017-01-24 07:32 (UTC)

[As Shiro mulls this over it occurs to him that Darc actually seems pretty young in good lighting, voice aside. Who knows how Deimos age, but if Shiro's going by human standards, he'd put him closer to Keith's age. That merits a little more scrutiny, Shiro's gaze sweeping over him thoughtfully.]

How did you come to be King of the Deimos?

[ah. For the first time Darc doesn't scowl. He sneers instead, wry]

What, I don't look like it?

You seem pretty young, [He says honestly.] But your people seem to care about you and believe in you a lot. Seems like there might be a story there.

[Wait, what

??]

I-- I do? They what?

[... Given how obvious Camillia and those minions were, how is it not... Obvious... Shiro still feels like he's missing something. ]

Between Camillia and those people who brought me back, that's the impression I got.

[oh, Camillia.

Darc sighs.]

... Camillia is a special case. As for the rest, you're still drugged, Shiro.

The Deimos are ruled by laws of power. That's all we knew or understood, all we were born for. I dominated them by force in order to change them-- have some peace and prosperity, for a change. As you likely experienced, it's slow going. They obey me because they know I'm stronger than them, that's all. If I don't improve life for all Deimos like I've sworn to, I'll have someone at my neck sooner or later.

[He wasn't drugged when they brought him in, but that's probably too fine a point to make. Still... ]

They seem to want to follow your rules. I attacked them—not very successfully, but they still refused to hurt me. ... They said they wanted to bring me back in good shape because it might cheer you up.

. . .

They. . . [He shakes his head, sighing.]

You don't understand. That's all because they respect my power.

[does he really want to explain this to a stoned human who fell out of the sky. how lonely IS he? And how easily disarmed is he by big staring earnest human eyes, for fuck's sake. He gets an itch to flap his wings irritably, and scratches at his arm instead.]

Can't you tell that I'm not like them?

[They want him to feel better because they respect his power. That sounds fake but okay Shiro is not going to pretend he's an expert on this alien species right now.]

I've only seen a small sample size, and you've all been pretty different, so I wasn't sure.

[chuffs. He's not sure if that's comforting or not but he'll take it.]

Fair enough.

[he juts his chin up.]

I was a slave, too. That's where I got my scars.

But my father left me the responsibility to save the Deimos from the humans, and from themselves. So I fought, and killed everyone who tried to kill me, all the way to the top.

[Shiro's eyes trail back to those scars, on mention.]

... That's an incredible accomplishment.

[behind the battered silver armor, for the most part. But there's no covering all of them.

Darc stares at him, the praise sinking in to his bones. It's one thing to blast his pride in front of Deimos, but to another ex-slave... maybe Shiro understood, on some scale. Even a little.]

You've escaped and outgrown your captors as well. Your story... how you hold yourself, even drugged and wounded. I can't stop looking at you.

[Given that he just had an episode in front of Darc and tried to cover it up and the restless itch having his scars exposed stirs in him, he feels especially unworthy of the compliment and totally at a loss to respond. At least the wide-eyed astonishment he can blame on the drugs. The blush was probably inevitable either way.

Shiro picks his way through a response.]

I think... [No, he can't just dismiss it. Not coming from Darc. Knowing what Shiro knows Darc knows now, he feels so much more exposed.] Thank you. I'm really not sure what to say. I'll have to think about it.

[This last addition from stoned Shiro, a person who thinks compliments are incredible serious.]

[Darc's eyes go wider at that reaction. For a second he looks like he might sputter.

Instead, twelve different tensions all break like a wave over: he's on so many drugs

And he actually cracks a smile for the first time]

Hah... don't think too hard.