explosivecombat | 02?. [Action/Text

02?. [Action/Text - Fourth Wall]

[Kimblee has just kind of accepted this sort of thing, regarding those odd weekends where, for some completely arbitrary reason, everything is beautiful and nothing hurts (assuming that no one happens to get in the way of the explosions he's usually laying down); however, this time around he hasn't seen Archer all weekend, he's been unbelievably agitated for some reason he can't work out, and about the only saving grace is that he seems to have awakened in the Lake of Rage area today.

He can't say he minds.

He's got his gloves off today, if anyone is in the immediate area through either intent or chance; surprisingly, he isn't transmuting...obviously, though what he's doing makes it rather clear that something's going on before too long - he's never been any sort of particular genius when it comes to chemistry, but he knows certain things when he sees them, and he's currently picking up rocks along the shore, appearing to assess them as he holds them before a flash of blue fires off and he throws the result into the water.

It's surprisingly easy to get a good transference going, to get sodium out of the rocks by the waterfront; of course, sodium in water is known to make one hell of a bang. Admittedly, it's not a very aesthetically pleasing bang, but he's working on it, okay.

Of course, there are some other signs in the area that his activities haven't been quite so docile (if blowing up the surface of a lake filled with terrifying sea serpents can be considered docile); there are some rather impressive swaths cut into the ground by what look like something ripping it all up from within. However, for the time being he seems pretty content to be bored, seeming to have calmed down from the earlier...fit that caused all that; he'll be having at the whole sodium thing for a while tonight.

Granted, for those not in the area, he'll be showing up over the device later - not via video, but via text, as per usual.]

I trust you've all been enjoying playing with your toys. Some of my most prized ones weren't returned to me this time around; I'm assuming this means they're still in the region somewhere.

I imagine I'll find them eventually.

However, for the time being I find that I really can't complain; the most relevant part of what I can do is functional again, and if I had to select between having my abilities with no enhancements and no abilities at all, choosing the latter to spite the former would be tantamount to solving the problem of a low doorway by cutting off my head.

Indulge me in my curiosity, however: were things like this weekend to be something controllable, something you could do at will, what would you bring here and what sort of abilities would you retain from you world - given power like this on a regular basis, what would you do with it?

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

Yes, well. I'm glad you understand that, then.

Likely not in the same way you do, but I can understand the basics of it, at any rate.

That said, I still don't think this is anything we should pursue.

You've made your stance quite clear on that...

[...]

You're right, of course. Should things go sour between us, all of our plans will have been for nothing. We still need to be able to work together.

[WHY DO HIS KIMBLEE/EYS TURN HIM DOWN]

[...Archer, there are many reasons why, especially now, and you will like absolutely none of them.]

My thoughts exactly - and given how we are in general, things will go sour if we attempt. It's best to leave it alone.

Of course. As I said, forget I said anything.

Of course, Archer.

[He shifts a bit on the bed as he says it, withdrawing his hand from Archer's hair again, but he doesn't move away entirely; rather, he's studying Archer intently, as though trying to figure out whether what he wants to do is a good idea or not.

He still doesn't seem to have decided by the time he reaches out, his arm moving almost of its own volition; he hesitates before he makes contact, his hand hovering awkwardly over part of that automail.]

Do you mind...?

[Archer watches Kimblee attempt to work something out and then move, not even flinching as Kimblee nearly touches the automail.]

Why would I mind?

[It's a rhetorical question though, and Archer adds onto it.]

Go ahead.

[Kimblee doesn't hesitate again, setting his hand down softly against the metal at Archer's shoulder, tracing over some of the detailing before shifting back up over the plates at his neck. He refrains from touching his face, as something about that strikes him as unnatural, but he is rather plainly looking over the detailing there even if he doesn't touch.]

...how well do you see, out of that left side?

[Archer doesn't move, allowing Kimblee to examine the automail, never once looking away. The question catches him by surprise though, and for a moment he's not really sure how to respond.]

I see outlines, mostly. There aren't any details. The automail sustained serious damage in the grenade blast, but it seems to have been repaired here.

[After a moment of thought, he continues speaking.]

I don't mind if you want to touch it.

Edited 2013-06-08 03:14 (UTC)

[Well, after the initial, kneejerk response of "I am not going to touch your goddamn eye, Archer, what the hell" passes, Kimblee seems to understand what he meant; he's fairly sure that Archer can't feel any of this anyway - not if the way Fullmetal often took to flailing his artificial limbs around for the sake of absorbing damage that normally would have been obscenely painful is anything to judge by - but this entire thing is still striking him as incredibly bizarre.

He moves to touch it anyway; it's honestly so morbidly fascinating that he can't really stop himself, now that he has permission, though the contact he establishes is still incredibly gentle.]

Interesting... [It's more a murmur to himself than anything; he raises his voice a bit again when he continues.] Although you said there was a grenade?

Ah, I suppose I didn't explain what happened. I was sent to protect Central Headquarters from the rebels. They opened fire on my men first, which did nothing to me, of course, then opted for a grenade. That still didn't kill me, but I received information that the Fuhrer's manor was under attack, so I drove there... and ended up in a car crash. Driving is much more difficult with the automail than I had anticipated.

[YES HE LITERALLY DROVE THAT CAR]

Anyway, I arrived at the Fuhrer's manor in time to see Mustang leaving; I believe I shot him, though I'm not entirely certain I killed him - the next thing I knew, I was being shot in the back by Hawkeye.

[He looks incredibly displeased about that.]

So yes, there was a grenade, a car crash, and several shots fired, and I would have survived through them all had Hawkeye not targeted my back.

[He might actually sound rather proud about that!]

[Kimblee doesn't pull away from what he's doing while Archer explains; it's...rather odd that Archer doesn't really need to move his face to speak to him properly and he isn't too sure what he thinks about that. After a moment he simply decides to find it interesting and not comment; he smirks a bit after Archer finishes speaking to him.]

Well, Hawkeye aside - that is rather impressive, I'll admit.

[His expression settles quickly, however, and he hesitates for a moment before shifting his hand up a bit toward that...whatever the hell apparatus Archer has going on over his left ear; he doesn't try to touch it, though for a moment he seems to be considering.]

Was the initial damage so extensive that this...alternate method of speaking was necessary?

[He seriously can't imagine that it was - he has no idea how Archer would have survived otherwise - but Archer had also mentioned an inability to eat normally as well...hm.]

I mean, what I'm not reconciling is that they managed to repair the damage here - [and his hand trails down over Archer's neck as he speaks] - and yet they couldn't fix the issues that came with it in any other way? I don't understand what they did with that, exactly.

Ah, no, there wasn't any severe damage there. I was still capable of screaming perfectly fine.

[That's sarcastic, but true...]

No, instead they fitted me with this-- ah, you might want to move back.

[He'll wait for Kimblee to move before, well, showing off that gun in his mouth. This probably raises far more questions than it answers, but like hell if Archer has the answers to those questions.]

[Kimblee moves back when Archer suggests that he do so, though he's giving him more than a bit of a skeptical look as he resettles; surely Archer knows by now that not much in general alarms him, and Kimblee knows better than to touch whatever he's about to show him if he's told not to -

And then Archer actually shows him, and Kimblee is suddenly very aware of the fact that he hasn't moved back enough. There is not enough space in this entire damn room for him to move back enough.

The noise he makes is strange and choked-off, and he's not sure when he moved again after the initial warning but the way that his back is suddenly slammed back against the head of the bed is more than enough to verify that he has unconsciously made sure to put a lot of space between Archer and himself; Kimblee has never had a particularly strong sense of what is normal and what is not (outside of assessing whether something is an immediate threat), but that entire business is striking him as so viscerally and undeniably wrong that it's making his skin crawl.]

Don't...don't ever do that again.

[That's the most he's going to be managing, words-wise, until he can get his breathing to slow down and he regains control over his face, thank you very much.]

[Archer is quick to put the gun away, but he doesn't miss Kimblee's expression. At first he can't quite place it because it's the very last thing he'd ever expect, but when it finally comes to him he almost wants to laugh. Kimblee's actually scared of it. He's tempted to ask why - he's sure it looks horrifying, but surely that's not enough, is it?]

I won't.

[Not if it scares Kimblee that badly, at least.]

Are you going to be alright?

[Kimblee nods a bit, though he doesn't seem to be relaxing very far, even if that gun is well out of sight.]

...well, that...certainly explains a lot, I suppose...

Yes, it does. It certainly wasn't a necessary addition, but I didn't have much of a say what was done to me with the automail.

[The Fuhrer really hated him, okay.]

I can imagine not, from what you told me about your condition before this happened. Honestly, I'm surprised you survived all that in the first place, much less...what seems to have come after.

I suppose you can say I'm very resilient.

[But judging from the smirk, he's just joking.]

I have no idea how I survived the array, but the automail protected me against the majority of what happened afterwards.

Well, I suppose that I'm one of the last with any right to question exactly how much a person can live through...

[He seems to be calming down, at least; he lets his eyes slide closed for a moment while he concentrates on forcing himself to relax.]

My apologies for my reaction just now, I wasn't expecting...any of that.

I suppose I should have warned you. I didn't think it would startle you that badly.

[He has no idea how bad it looks, is it obvious?]

[...okay, now he's just staring again, thank you.]

Well, it's a bit alarming-looking.

Ah, is it?

[Head...tilt...]

I've never seen it, obviously.

...you don't want to, believe me.

That bad?

[Well, he sounds a bit amused by that.]

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject