with_my_teacup | R35 - Carnivore animal

R35 - Carnivore animal

[Public & Kitchen Spam]
Noch breffast, chicos.

[Anyone who comes into the kitchen will notice that Riddick is all but non-verbal. He doesn't really understand English or any of the other major languages, and anyone who doesn't have a grounding in several common Earth languages won't understand the language he speaks-- the child of accented English and space-travel Spanish and technical Chinese with loanwords peppered in like... well, pepper, subject to extreme grammatic drift, with even the familiar verbs conjugated in unfamiliar ways and prepositions hiding where they're least expected

So he's not talking much. Instead, much pantomime, much grunt and shrug. ...And much picture. Enjoy your breakfast menu, barge.]

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[Riddick had a scowling shadow earlier this morning, and left to fend for himself Arthas has abandoned all attempts at either communication or manners. He cuts in line, takes four or five muffins at knifepoint, and fully intends to flee with them.]

[Riddick watches, not unamused, and clears his throat. He makes a gesture -- sheath the knife, he mimes-- and crosses his arms.]

[Arthas grumbles something incomprehensibly Nordic and instead uses it to spear some fruit for himself.]

Ég hata alla á þessum bát.

Hasst tu errywon boat-in? Quitare-tu doch anotha sconn.

[He makes sure another scone makes it onto Arthas' plate and tips his head towards the coffee pot.]

Edited 2013-12-10 06:56 (UTC)

[Arthas grunts a vague affirmative at the indication of coffee and makes a matching gesture. Meet?

Someone tries to reach over him for scones. He slams his hand onto the counter hard enough to make it shake and glares. They retreat.]

[Since he's actually trying to communicate instead of just being a dick, Riddick nods instead of answering verbally, and slips out when he has a few minutes to meet.]

[Arthas spends the interim time prowling around the coffee machine like he's worried it will be stolen. The scones are gone. He has inhaled them.]

Eh?

[A grunt with raised inflection -- universal inquiry. Whether Arthas can guess Riddick is asking about how he's doing, less certain. Riddick keeps the distance he knows is comfortable for Arthas, close but not all over his space.

Ég er frábær.

[Arthas is flipping his fruit knife and pacing, frustrated.]

[Riddick thumps his shoulder carefully. Didn't get a word of that, but the tone is clear. His own tone is soothing, and ends in a question.]

C-E-S-in ge'hn; or?

C-E-S?

[That's pretty easy to pick out. Unless that's not translating either, which he wouldn't put past this flood.]

[He nods, repeats the letters, mimes opening the door. Then he holds up two fingers.] Mi is xià bān en dos horas. Wai' kalt, kalter boi.

[Arthas just stares at the two fingers, uncomprehending.]

Dos. Horas. [A gesture to the clock on the wall, then a significant step back towards the kitchen.]

Oh.

[Yeah, okay. Two something more in the kitchen, maybe minutes or hours, probably the latter since he interrupted Riddick's shift. Arthas nods and waves - bye.]

[Riddick nods and waves, with an apologetic look.

It's slightly more than two hours before he shows up at Arthas' door, but the delay was to get him a mug of weapons-grade stomach-lining-destroyer strong coffee, and pick up his impatient, confused dog.

Partner, fortunately, speaks hand-signal and Riddick's language.]

[Arthas yanks the door open suddenly, sword in hand, then relaxes when it's just Riddick and Partner.]

Það tók þig nógu lengi.

[He nods in greeting, then-]

CES?

[Riddick nods, quirks a smile. Partner cocks his head; what sounds are you doing with your face, undead friend? That is not normal face sounds.]

C-E-S.

[He holds out the metal mug.]

Coffee.

Thank you.

[That's in English, with only a slight accent. He's heard that particular one enough today to mimic and he's pretty sure he knows a handful of other words too - "hello," "please," "flood," and one that means "calm down" or "stop pointing that knife at me" or something like that. And now, "coffee."

Mm coffee. Arthas takes a sip as he steps out and closes his cabin door behind him.]

You're welcome.

[That's in English, too, in the US accent that prevails on the barge.

Riddick is visibly relaxing as he walks; there was just a little tension in his shoulders from the whole... dealing with people he couldn't talk to thing.]

[Arthas claps him on the shoulder - too gently, like he's afraid he'll hurt Riddick by accident - but in grim agreement. Awful flood. Very annoying.]

[An eyebrow at him. Who's fragile here, deadman. But then a nod: this sucks.

Riddick leads him up to the deck, through the warden area and to the door of the CES, giving him a little 'after you' wave. Partner recognizes the door and shifts in agitation, whining happily.]

[Arthas nods and opens the door - as usual, the first thing they're greeted by is a blast of cold air. They're on the banks of a clean, restless river that rolls down steep cliffs where time has scraped the grass off of the underlying bones of the land. Redwoods thicker around than the Barge's main hallways dig into the frosted earth all around them. No snow, not yet, but the sky is a pale china-blue that shows winter is close.

Arthas makes a satisfied noise and strides inside.]

[Riddick slips the leash off Partner's harness as soon as the door was shut behind him, waving him off with a 'go play' that sends him charging into the woods.

Riddick's mouth quirks again. His desert dog; short hair, huge heat-venting ears, optimized for heat and low moisture. He'd hate this environment if he was still alive, if there was any heat to vent.

He shivers, but he knew they'd be someplace cold; he's wearing more than his usual arm-bearing getup, and he pulls the hood of his cloak up over his head. ]

Partner! Hup!

[The dog comes pelting back at a run.]

[Arthas wants to say: I know this place, here's where I walked, here's where we fought, here's where a were-worgen tried to shoot one of my val'kyr. If we go east I can show you eagles, north of here is an entire city inside a hollow tree.

But he can't, and lets out a frustrated hiss instead and jerks his head off in the direction of the eagle roosts. Come on, there's a thing over here when you're done with whatever you're doing with the dog.]

[Riddick grabs a stick and hurls it into the wilderness for Partner to go find, and then falls into step with Arthas.

Partner comes running back before they get far, shoving the stick against Arthas' hand to try to make him throw it.]

[Partner likes him! This is news to Arthas, who is generally oblivious about that. He crooks a smile and fluffs its neck before throwing it again - off to the west, so he doesn't run into any birds of prey along the way.

The next group of redwoods they pass opens into the remains of a stone temple, bombed-out, crumbling and scorched. Every inch of what remains is carved with intricate spirals and on the highest pillars that are still standing are dozens of nests. The eagles circling are large enough to pick up a person, but Arthas doesn't seem concerned. He does, however, stay at a healthy distance from any occupied nests.]

Edited 2013-12-15 14:10 (UTC)

[Riddick makes a little 'hmm' of interest, following their flight with his eyes-- and takes his cue from Arthas, whistling Partner back from anywhere that he might get attacked. Partner is currently more engaged in his stick, anyway, dashing back to whoever's closest, bowing playfully, trying to get up a game of tug-of-war.]

Mmmm?

[Are they going someplace in particular? he means.]

[Selina peruses the menu, eventually pointing at the quiche.]

No fish or mice, huh?

[He got the animal names, at least.]

None mice gebakt en quiche: dey sabe deys mejor, wen dey frittata-in is an t'ing.

[And she understands just enough of his tone and the familiarity of his face to catch more or less what he's saying. Enough that she laughs.]

Well, mice wouldn't be a popular menu choice anyway.

[She hums, drumming her fingers on the counter, and points vaguely at it, looking at him, eyebrows raised. Recommend something?]

[He considers, then smirks; lays two plain scones on a plate and pours cream over them liberally.

Good? His head tip asks.]

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R35 - Carnivore animal

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Spam, perhaps timeskip or assume or whatever you like

It's just a jump to the left

and then a step to the right

Surrender now or prepare to fight (Wait no)

riffraff that's right!

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