with_my_teacup | R26 - Here comes the sun [Video]

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R26 - Here comes the sun [Video]

[The feed shows Riddick, tired but smirking just barely visibly. He's in the darkness of his room, a big wall of shadow with still squinting silver eyes. The only thing in focus is the pair of rubber-strapped welding goggles dangling close to the screen.]

I like'm and all, but they aren't real... casual. Anyone got some 21st-century style sunglasses I could borrow for a few days?

[Private to Selina]
I don't know how much you like water, but I could do with some solar heat and a little hydrotherapy-- I'm looking to hit the beach and then shop like I'm civilized and rich. You down for that?

Anything you wanna hit while we're back in all the brightness? It ain't Gotham, but somehow I see you fitting in fine anyway. I'll be a little slow, but I'm with you.

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I was just saying hey. [Deadpan]

You willing to grab me a shirt while you're out? Everything I've got is black and I could use something reflective. Which means white, don't get cute.

You were sneaking. That was sneaking. Prick.

Got it. White. With a little unicorn on it.

I could make a unicorn work.

Unicorns all the way down it is.

Card. Gimmie.

[He flips the card between his fingers, and holds it out. ]

I'll be right where we get off the barge.

[Chris plucks the card from Riddick, looking it over with deep satisfaction. Financial independence? Yes, please]

Okay. I'm getting you sunscreen too. That big bald head of yours is going to fry like an egg.

You're a sweet kid. [His mouth quirks.]

See you in an hour. [Or he's coming after you like a slow-walking horror movie antagonist.]

Yeah, yeah. [Grinning, he sticks the card in his wallet, fitting it in his back pocket]

In the words of this port's governor...I'll be back.

[Eyebrow? But he doesn't ask.

The departure point is -- for them at least-- near the waterfront. Riddick chucks his thumb at a patch of beach.]

I shouldn't be too hard to find.

[By which he means as soon as Chris is out of sight he's going to strip his shirt, use it as an eye mask, and grab an hour of sleep on the sand.]

Yeah, in the sun you stick out.

[But whatever; Chris is heading down the Barge rail, dropping happily into the sand and going the opposite direction, on a quest to find Ray Bans and a unicorn shirt]

[Riddick stakes out his territory-- what little isn't claimed, and basks half asleep in the sun. Not real rest-- too much foot traffic, too much to be aware of, but it's good to be still and let the heat soak into his aching body, brutal and deep.

Not shockingly, he tends to brown up more than burning.]

[A good long hour and fifteen minutes passes.

Finally, Chris, wearing his own shades and in newer, nicer clothes that better fit his frame, drops down beside Riddick. He's got a plastic bag full of stuff, and is holding two italian ices with the other hand]

Sup, Death Toll.

Just living the privileged life, baby badass.

[He sits up and grits his teeth through a wince as he stretches-- the muscles feel tight and stiff, without actually being affected by efforts to relax.

He squints at Chris-- just the faintest sliver of silver showing, and the light is still enough to make his eyes water.]

Find a unicorn?

It's nice, right? L.A.'s nice, but you should see New York sometime.

[He twists to the side, rooting through the plastic bag before pulling out a pair of high end sunglasses much like his own, and hands them over]

Nah. Found one with a kitten, though. Enjoy.

You sucking up to Selina or something?

[The sunglasses help. They aren't his goggles, but they'll do-- and they won't draw attention. His mouth flickers in a brief smile once he's able to see Chris' better fitting clothes.]

We hit Earth a lot-- maybe I'll get there. I can taste the magical water you need to make bagels.

I like her, but no, I just wanted to see you in a kitten shirt.

It's amazing. God, you know, you'd think I'd miss the really big, important things like my mom when I came to the Barge, but most of the time I miss shit like going to the movies or the beach whenever I wanted, or eating a bagel.

Hand over the shirt. Or don't, apparently 'shirtless' is an option. [He waves at the rest of the beach.]

By the way, thanks. I really am fucking exhausted.

Put the shirt on, this isn't Jersey Shore.

[He hands the bag over; inside is sunblock as well. And for good measure, he gives Riddick the other italian ice]

Yeah, no shit. What the fuck happened to you?

[He does put the shirt on, without fanfare, and nips a mouthful of the Italian ice off the top of the cone. Ooh, nice and cold.]

Got in a magical industrial accident, basically-- got careless, got in the way of a spell. [He shrugs]

Maybe you might not want to do that anymore, if you want to still sit around and enjoy ports.

[He digs into his own, licking the top]

How's wardening?

It's a lot like inmating, only I don't get to kill people just because they piss me off. But there's always trade offs.

How's inmating? Dent hasn't given you any more shit, has he?

You can still kill people. They just have to give you a good reason first.

You mean since he fucking destroyed Cassel?

No, he's been quiet. Every time I think I'm going to go find him and kick his ass, the idea just makes me feel tired.

Yeah, and it has to be a real good reason, nothing that I should be solving by taking them to zero or whatever.

[He slowly works his ice down, lick by lick by annoyed bite. ]

I understand how you feel. It's such tiring bullshit, ain't it-?

For real.

No, it's a weird new feeling for me. Normally I'm all about the vengeance. What the fuck's happening to me where I just...don't want to go after him? Even when he hurts the people I love?

Maybe it's a thyroid thing.

It's probably because you know it wouldn't do any good. Part of you considers consequences, log term effects. ...usually kind of a small part, but.

[Teasing.]

Somewhere in your unconscious you can see the cycle of his violence, your violence, his, yours, no way to end it, no death, no room to run. And that part of you is tired.

Or it could be a thyroid thing.

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