shoyu: (❝ luv (sic) pt.3 ❞)
soysauce。| SEC » 006 » 037 ([personal profile] shoyu) wrote in [community profile] ataraxionlogs2013-06-15 06:34 pm

so let's raise the bar

CHARACTERS: Soysauce & open!
LOCATION: Kitchens, oxygen gardens and hallways.
SUMMARY: Trying to stay optimistic and light-hearted.
NOTES: Open for any time until next jump!

[ soysauce is a little thick sometimes; that's difficult to deny, and he's even willing to acknowledge it himself. but that doesn't mean he's ignorant to the constant danger present aboard the tranquility. he's definitely aware of how the ship can warp at any moment and throw everything into chaos; whatever atmosphere of peace that may rest over the ship at the moment is temporary at best.

but -- isn't that all the more reason to make the best of it while it lasts? he's never been good at remaining serious for too long, always searching for a silver lining to any exhausting situation, trying to keep spirits up no matter how difficult the situation. and so Soysauce spends his days cheerfully, offering the brightest smile he can manage to anyone who might meet his gaze. whenever he's not on security duty, he's out and around -- keeping himself occupied in the most high-spirited way he can. ]


kitchens ;

[ he spends a fair amount of time in the kitchens. it's peaceful there, and he likes to cook extra food whenever he can -- leaving it in the fridge in little containers, marked 'free for taking.' (he knows a few people here probably can't or won't cook -- no shame in that! -- so he'd like to make their lives just a bit easier.)

people walking by the kitchen might catch the savory scent of food cooking, the sound of pots and pans and utensils clanking. but they might also hear the lilting noise of cheerful whistling and humming, and maybe the sounds of shoes tapping lightly against the floor -- when he's waiting for things to simmer and cook, soy sometimes spends his time dancing. always keeping himself occupied somehow or the other. ]


hallways & gardens ;

[ he tends to be a bit less productive in the evenings, though. (words can't describe how much soysauce misses his home at times. the busy streets, the bright lights, the bustling nightlife of beacon -- things he holds dear to his heart and can't find anything even close to aboard the tranquility.) never content to just sit still anywhere, even while intoxicated, soy takes to wandering around the ship -- cheerfully waving and chirping at anyone he recognizes.

whiskey bottle in hand, cheeks slightly pink, pleasantly light-headed from the alcohol swimming in his veins, soysauce walks the hallways without any real destination, often ending up roaming the gardens in search of some poor person (victim?) to talk to. ]
godofthemachine: (Fucking Macs....)

Gardens ARE YOU SICK OF ME YET~~~~~

[personal profile] godofthemachine 2013-06-16 05:09 am (UTC)(link)
[Fresh air isn't something AM is entirely used to. And even in these oxygen gardens, it still feels artificial. It's not the real thing. He'll probably never get to experience the real thing, because fate has cursed him that way. It's partially due to this resentment that he doesn't spend too much time in the gardens, at least not more than he feels necessary. But he can't deny that this body needs to at least pretend to experience fresh air, greenery, something resembling Earth's natural state. What it once was. Fresh oxygen keeps the body and mind healthier, more active...

So sometimes he would go to the gardens and at least attempt to convince himself he was situated in one of Earth's greenhouses. At night he had gone, hoping there would be fewer people. Whether or not he's right, he at least stays away from them, seated by several leafy plants as he looks over his communication device.

Sad that he can hardly find enjoyment in the trivial things that humans like. Reading is the closest thing he can find pleasurable in terms of "trivial human entertainment," but only so he can scoff at the writings. Or simply laugh at their ridiculousness. Romance novels are something he enjoys so that he can utterly mock the human tendency to focus on sex - poorly-written sex at that. Or he'll read famous works of literature that he's already familiar with, simply to get ideas, particularly from religious works.

It's a sad way to pass the time, though, as he sits by the large leaves and scrolls through a digital copy of a poetry collection. Hardly anything artistic about it, really. Even with these human senses, art is something that is difficult for AM to relate to at all, especially this mishmash of words. Not too involved in his work, he at least is able to hear when someone is coming close.]
godofthemachine: (Whoa that's some freaky shit)

aaaaa clings to you grossly

[personal profile] godofthemachine 2013-06-17 03:04 am (UTC)(link)
[It's a somewhat secluded area where AM sits, where he can at least think he's sitting in a large forest or greenhouse. The leaves on these plants are quite incredible - being a couple feet in length at least, though it's not even close to what the largest leaves on Earth could be. Not that he ever really appreciated them.

He looks up from his device when he hears those slightly uneven footsteps. Soysauce. Of course. It had been probably four days or so since they had last gotten together, or something along those lines. AM, of course, appreciates him for certain reasons, but otherwise Soysauce can be absolutely annoying. Especially now, since AM can smell the alcohol, can see the bottle in his hand.]


Soy.

[He puts the device down (since really, he's hardly enjoying reading it anyway) and looks up. He still looks rather serious, but not dismayed that Soysauce has come to bother him. As annoying as the other can be, he's at least more entertaining than that drivel on his device.]

I'm just reading some mindless drivel.
godofthemachine: (Not in the mood for this shit)

[personal profile] godofthemachine 2013-06-18 03:58 am (UTC)(link)
Poetry.

[He clarifies what he had been reading, a book of various Biblical-inspired poetry. Some of it had been interesting, but most is just sad. He can understand the appeal of creating such pictures with words, assigning them to a meter, but he can't consider it "art." It's just... Well, it's difficult for his highly logical mind to fully process.

He looks over at Soysauce who has now made a comfortable seat right next to him. His eyes briefly flicker to that nearly-empty bottle of whiskey, and AM is somewhat tempted. But drinking is something he has to be so very careful with that he shakes his head briefly when the bottle is offered. Only sighing when that intelligence is once more gushed over. Something Soysauce seems to do constantly when they're together. (Soy seems so pathetically stupid that AM's intellect probably overwhelms him.)]


It's one of the benefits of being a machine, I suppose. Pre-progammed knowledge, fast learning capabilities... [He grunts in amusement at that. Only he knows how horribly that turned out.]

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fuckinghysterical: (ohhhhh u)

KITCHENS, LET'S DO THIS.

[personal profile] fuckinghysterical 2013-06-16 06:35 am (UTC)(link)
[Although LB does catch a whiff of whatever was cooking, at the time, she was actually more interested in trying to dig around for a pack of instant noodles. Not the most creative thing to cook, but it was easy to make and sustainable enough.

But when she comes across the kitchen area and sees Soy dancing, she pauses, giggling a little as she sets her elbows on a nearby counter, leaning forward to nest her chin between both hands.]


Having fun? Heeheehee~? I don't think I typically see people get this excited over cooking.
fuckinghysterical: (Feeling blue)

YEEEEEEE

[personal profile] fuckinghysterical 2013-06-17 01:26 am (UTC)(link)
[A few more laughs escape her, while LB straightens her posture, as leaning forward for too terribly long got to be a little bit of a pain.]

"Watch the pot, it'll never boil", right?

[She smiles as she says it, but it's a rather mild one-- it was something she remembered her mom telling her many years ago. But-- no reason to be thinking about that, right now.]

So, ah, what are you cooking anyway?

[LB was merely curious, looking around at the pots he was cooking in, rather than hoping he was going to share some. Her mindset was still to fend for herself; asking for scraps just wasn't in her nature.]

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handelaar: (this tea is bitter)

gardens; this will go very very well

[personal profile] handelaar 2013-06-17 04:03 am (UTC)(link)
[Netherlands has spent the days since the jump just waiting for the other shoe to drop. Part of it is due to all of the shit that already has a good chunk of the ship collectively holding its breath. Skipping a jump, Hotspur's year-late post, the lone new guy. Add onto that the fact that Jaye has gone crazy and gone from the Gardens both, his space kid's head is apparently in danger of exploding, and Heather has (in his opinion) painted a bright red target on her back - well, he's a lot more high strung than normal, lately.

Probably why Josias isn't the only staff member who's been steering clear of him.

It's getting late - nearing 23:00 and he's finished enough today for him to be considering heading up to the passenger decks, play football by himself or maybe train with Russia for long enough to wind down. Maybe end up in Heather's bed or vice versa. Hm. He lights a cigarette and wheels his bike to an open-ish area on the main floor, pulls out his communicator, and. Frowns as he hears someone shuffling along. Glances up, sees who it is, and immediately becomes 1000% absorbed with the business of texting Heather because he doesn't like Soy and I like irony okay.]
handelaar: (um no)

let us count the ways

[personal profile] handelaar 2013-06-17 06:23 am (UTC)(link)
[Goddammit. He sighs out a plume of smoke and spends quite a few more seconds than necessary glaring at his comms. Jerks his chin up, shoves the device into his pocket and grabs onto his bike (didn't mean to do that), other hand at the cigarette in his mouth as he stares the guy down and narrows his eyes when he can't see any hands. The fuck is that for.

Soysauce rambles on and tries to make things better, but Netherlands becomes increasingly suspicious of whatever Soy might be holding back there. What is that. All he really gets out of all of the talk is that Soysauce wants to blab too much about feelings that Netherlands doesn't have let alone share or care about, and since he doesn't give a shit, neither should this guy. And if this guy does care? That's suspicious as hell. So it's with a bit of force that he speaks.]


Leave me alone.

[Hey, better than "go away or I'll flip you over".]

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aha

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magewarden: (☆47)

HALLWAYS This'll do, prose because I'm obnoxious

[personal profile] magewarden 2013-06-17 11:27 am (UTC)(link)
Daylen is tired, slightly ruffled as he wanders the hallways back from the security office. The world is a vague blur of activity around him, something he's rather numbing himself to. People come and go, and yet for some reason he is damned to stay in this place forever. It feels as if perhaps he has committed some great wrong and this is his punishment -- to constantly be forced to reunite with people then lose them again.

At least, he supposes, he has found something to occupy himself with now. Security might mean he has the power to prevent more of his friends, new and old, being hurt. It also might mean he has the power to make his voice be heard better, which Daylen is very much aware of -- although he isn't about to say that directly to anyone. That is a thought to be stored until he has time to understand it, to understand the order of things and what he would have to do to use it.

He's distracted, fiddling with his network device as he walks, when he catches sight of movement out of the corner of his eye and looks up to see the person moving towards him. Soysauce, his mind reminds him, some kind of marksman. Good cooking skills. Also a musician. In security too.

Ah, someone he'll be working with then. He makes an effort to smile despite the tiredness pulling at him, nods a slightly formal greeting.

"Ah, good evening. It seems like we may be seeing more of each other in the future, I have just been approved into the security contingent."
magewarden: (☆9)

[personal profile] magewarden 2013-06-20 10:21 am (UTC)(link)
He mirrors the headtilt, examining Soysauce more critically. Inebriated, he thinks, and years of tolerating Oghren finds him inured to it. The man is at least cheerful, and not offensive or aggressive in his drunkenness.

"By firearm," he begins, "do you mean your marksman's weapon? I will certainly attempt to learn, if it is required of me. I have been learning some basic hand-to-hand combat, although I find I am now... devoid of my practice partners. If it is useful or necessary, my magic is of course available to the department. I am an elemental mage at my core, although I have learned the art of being a shifter too for what it is worth."

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walksonrooftops: (creeping)

kitchens

[personal profile] walksonrooftops 2013-06-18 02:51 pm (UTC)(link)
[The day after the solstice is always a bit of a lazy day, spent taking naps or loitering around between his room and the halls. But most importantly, there's barely a day in the year on which Asato feels more hungry, and sooner or later his ventures out of his room take him towards the kitchens in search of a snack or two to scavenge, though what he really hopes for is to find someone cooking--Bardo, perhaps, or--

There's food. Tentatively he sticks his nose in the air and sniffs a time or two, and once he's sure this scent is coming from the kitchen on their floor and not from a passenger room (he's starving but not raring to start kicking doors in and stealing dinners from unsuspecting passengers), he quickens his pace to a trot as he heads down the hallway. While it's harder to spot than on some of the more outspoken inhabitants of the ship, Asato's in a good mood, mellow and still almost dreamy in the aftermath of one hell of a day yesterday... A drowsy, hazy look still dwells in his eyes, and he reaches the kitchen before he's fully aware of having done so.

But. Food. Somewhere in the back of his mind, he registered the whistling and humming as Soy before he actually sees the guy, but though he'd prepared himself to see Soysauce in the kitchen, he hadn't expected the dancing. For now, he keeps his distance, coming to a halt right outside the doorway and glancing in, his ears perked in curiosity--half about the dancing and half about the food.

Food wins out.]


What are you making?
walksonrooftops: (hopeful)

[personal profile] walksonrooftops 2013-06-19 11:08 am (UTC)(link)
[Asato's line of sight follows Soy's over to the pot on the stovetop, where his attention lingers long enough to leave little doubt about what might have brought him here. The singing, dancing, and humming are as much a source of confusion as they are of intrigue, but none of these things take him wholly by surprise after he's had a few patrols at Soysauce's side, listening to his humming and committing the few words he catches here and there to memory, but never participating with the same energy.

It's tolerable, if he's looking for something to break the silence. And he could use a little bit of company from a familiar face right now, leaving Konoe some alone time to do as he pleases. Maybe he can bring a little food back for him...

After Soy's made his offer, Asato quietly inches into the kitchen, not afraid but still a little unsteady on his feet, less concerned about keeping up appearances when he's not on his work shift and has only Soysauce around to watch. The stovetop's his main target; once he's close enough he peers down, reaches carefully for the pot's lid but changes his mind--probably best to leave it be if it's not done, right?]


Is there really enough? [His tone's hopeful as he looks back up to Soy, smiling subtly. Nothing but good moods today, and if he can get some food in his belly, then that's even better.]

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sweetmotherofgod: (football season is over)

backdated to just after Ned being a wad haha

[personal profile] sweetmotherofgod 2013-07-02 08:19 am (UTC)(link)
[Dancing in the kitchen? Actually not that much of an abnormality to Heather. She's always been the type to want to help (or... interfere, depends on your perspective), and due to her tendency to be a near total flop in the culinary arts, her father had found a range of ways to make tiny Heather - still Cheryl, really - feel like she was helping without actually doing anything. Like handing her a jar of salad dressing, cranking the radio and instructing her to shake it up. Anyway, it's always good to see Soy and especially good to see him in the kitchen, so she might just groove on over. Yes sir, I can boogie.]

Whatcha makin'?
sweetmotherofgod: (I knew that loose was too noose)

[personal profile] sweetmotherofgod 2013-07-07 09:49 pm (UTC)(link)
[Honestly? She wouldn't have noticed if he hadn't mentioned it. People generally look one version or another of totally shitty around here and sometimes it just seems more polite not to mention it.]

I'll take your word for it. I always used to try McDonald's fries and a coke as big as my head.

[It does smell incredible, though. If any soup could cure a hangover - and she's not saying it could - that stuff'd do the trick. She turns to lean against the bench and watch him, trying not to smirk.]

Was there at least a good time to go with the hangover?

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