Maes Hughes | Manga (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
ontheline) wrote in ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png)
ataraxionlogs2015-10-20 02:33 am
ontheline) wrote in ataraxionlogs2015-10-20 02:33 am
Entry tags:
[closed] long live the king (no dead dads though promise)
CHARACTERS: Roy Mustang and Maes Hughes wander the jungle during stampedes. Whelp.
LOCATION: In the skirting jungles, in the path of said destruction on the 19th.
WARNINGS: N/A
SUMMARY: Hughes needs to keep his mouth shut sometimes.
[Living is a weird thing when you're technically dead. He has a schedule, a typical way of going from day to day, but it's also really damn weird when you know you're in your own personal 'afterlife'. Anyway, those are deep thoughts he can focus on when he's alone at night trying to close his eyes and sleep. Whatever. Bigger things to think about. Like how he can drag Roy out around the jungles for scouting, collecting, and whatever else happens to be out there. Truth be told, the combination of those newly found crypts and a sneakingly suspicious shrinking supply pile makes Hughes fear that maybe there's more going on than expected.
He's thinking maybe he should bring up this concerning observations to Roy, since he could use an extra pair of eyes. It'd be nice to figure out if they were alone on the planet and it was all in his head, buuuut... well, if they're not alone... yikes, right? Right. Time to drag Roy off to be a mountain man.
He's sorry but he's also not.
Instead he struts through the heavy greenery, chopping at the plantlife with a machete made out of ship scrap. He's always been way better with blades than guns, and it's paying off for him in a place like this. Though fortunately, he's never had a reason to use his throwing knives on people in particular. Small mercies.]
How's it going back there, Colonel Jungle Explorer?
Missing city life?
LOCATION: In the skirting jungles, in the path of said destruction on the 19th.
WARNINGS: N/A
SUMMARY: Hughes needs to keep his mouth shut sometimes.
[Living is a weird thing when you're technically dead. He has a schedule, a typical way of going from day to day, but it's also really damn weird when you know you're in your own personal 'afterlife'. Anyway, those are deep thoughts he can focus on when he's alone at night trying to close his eyes and sleep. Whatever. Bigger things to think about. Like how he can drag Roy out around the jungles for scouting, collecting, and whatever else happens to be out there. Truth be told, the combination of those newly found crypts and a sneakingly suspicious shrinking supply pile makes Hughes fear that maybe there's more going on than expected.
He's thinking maybe he should bring up this concerning observations to Roy, since he could use an extra pair of eyes. It'd be nice to figure out if they were alone on the planet and it was all in his head, buuuut... well, if they're not alone... yikes, right? Right. Time to drag Roy off to be a mountain man.
He's sorry but he's also not.
Instead he struts through the heavy greenery, chopping at the plantlife with a machete made out of ship scrap. He's always been way better with blades than guns, and it's paying off for him in a place like this. Though fortunately, he's never had a reason to use his throwing knives on people in particular. Small mercies.]
How's it going back there, Colonel Jungle Explorer?
Missing city life?
no subject
[But Hughes doesn't particularly look like he agrees with his own words.
Have a moment of seriousness.]
The ship we were on... I don't know how to explain it, but it was — controlled by some weird source, some being that seemed to toy with everyone and make the ship a dangerous place to live. Constantly shifting hallways, doors locking before jumps, temperature fluctuations and creatures in the halls that used to be human... The place has history I was hardly able to skim the surface of.
[He raises his eyebrow.]
It wasn't a welcome wagon for sure.
And then a dictator-type named Van Rijn came to try and take back the ship with his fleet of ships.
[He's still trying to wrap his head around space travel.]
no subject
How much of that weirdness-- [Roy cuts himself off to shove some foliage out of his face. This place is ridiculous.] --of that weirdness crash-landed with the ship?
[Obviously, he's not too worried about constantly shifting hallways out here where there are no, you know, hallways but general weirdness and creatures that used to roam hallways possibly roaming through jungles does lend him a bit of concern.]
no subject
I'd say all of it, probably — but time'll tell before we see if it can actually do any damage outside of the actual ship. [He throws Roy a cheeky grin, though, looking peachy keen.] But hey! On the bright side, weather pending and finding food notwithstanding, it's not so bad out here.
[Look out for that plant whipping at your face.]
no subject
Roy fumbles with getting the plant out of his face, thank you very much, manages to duck under it and grumbles under his breath as he readjusts his gloves. Would that he had his other gloves.
Or a lighter.
This place would go up in flames in about half a second flat.]
Oh, yeah, it's great. [Grumble, grumble, complain. It almost covers up a faint thundering in the not-so-distant distance.]
no subject
[#BEST FRIEND AWARD
He stops, though, perking at the distant thrumming. Roy'll probably bump right into his back at this rate. What the heck's that sound supposed to be? Adjusting his glasses, he peers, suddenly none too thrilled at what may be... drumming? Wildlife? Where—??
..................]
You hear that?
no subject
... and then there's an actual question.]
I think I do.
[That... doesn't seem good.]
1/2
no subject
What the — !!
no subject
Roy takes a few quick steps backward to avoid being run over by Maes and ends up staring wide-eyed after the... uh, animal(?) as it careens through the underbrush.
But then he realizes that the thundering sound isn't actually getting fainter. Eyes widening in realization, he gropes for Maes's shoulder while staring in the direction the thing came from.]
Get up. Move.
no subject
It looks sturdy, and it's one he could actually get up in time.
But even as he focuses on a plan, within seconds they're already getting the trickling of the front of the herd -- the creatures come bounding in, and dodging them left and right seems like a good idea, eh, Roy? Hughes veers himself left to scarcely avoid another; it's muscular shoulder grazes his own for a split moment.]
We gotta get out of its way!
[Basically, running isn't going to do jack shit.
It's like thunder now; damn, they're fast.]
no subject
No shit he's getting out of the way. Hopefully, he'll manage it without getting run over. It may have been some time since he's worked with Maes but it's like falling into old patterns; it takes about half a second to realize that Maes is going for the closest sturdiest tree.]
Right behind you.
[And he is -- and Roy can be pretty damned fast when he has to be. He maybe could find a way to alchemy his way out of his, but that would involve techniques and materials he's not quite used to. He'd rather not risk it.
Not that climbing a tree is going to be much easier.
Roy has to dart to the right to Very Narrowly avoid taking on one of those creatures head-on; it just makes it clear how absolutely huge these things are. He gets to the tree, manages not to pull a faceplant on any roots or other obstacles, and goes for the lowest hanging not-tiny branch.
Here's hoping stampeding alien-beasts can't climb.]
no subject
Good thing you're faster than you look — !!
[The hooves are loud, nearly drowning him out. He wraps his arm tightly around the branch, grimacing as the world shakes around them. Shit.
The branch groans under his weight, quiet under the mask of rabid creatures.]
no subject
Or something.
He'll think about it later. Right now, he's grabbing Hughes' hand and pulling himself up out of the way of thundering hooves. There's a moment when he's just there, not quite pulling his own weight (but, you know, putting it all in Maes' hands) before he plants a foot on the trunk, pushes himself up, and wraps a hand around the nearest unoccupied branch.
... So this is a great position when one's hands still occasionally ache after a long day.]
no subject
Now it's just the matter of not, you know, falling. The tree is vibrating so violently he can feel his bones shaking in his body, thrumming from the energy, and he looks with uncertainty toward Roy to make sure he's alright — after all, he was having a hard time climbing out of the ship, and Hughes knows it's because his hands haven't gotten up to snuff —
Crk.
The branch he's clinging to drops a few inches, and his foot slips just a little against the bark.
Crap—
The world under them is just a flurry of color and sound, hooves violently striking the roots and jungle floor.]
no subject
His hands aren't exactly happy with all this and Roy has the sneaking suspicion that his hands are probably going to ache like hell after all this is over. Hell, the way he's going, he'll probably have aching hands at the end of every long day for the rest of his life.
Wonderful. Also not in the least relevant.
When he sees the branch drop, he honestly takes about half a second to think about alchemy and how he'd probably mess it up terribly because wood is not fire. Instead, he braces his foot against the trunk and reaches out to grab a handful of Maes' shirtfront because you are not falling, got that?
God, his hands are unhappy. This needs to end. Soon would be good.]
no subject
He glances over his shoulder -- looks like they're down to the stragglers.
Which is just great, because the branch finally does snap, and they both fall right the hell out of the sad abused tree. It's not a very high fall, but one thing Hughes thinks is oh great, the colonel is going to land right on me. Suppose this is fate's revenge for making Roy use his healing hands to keep him from getting stampeded.]
OOF!!
[IT'S ALL GOOD, I'M DURABLE.]
no subject
That's great. Roy isn't entirely sure what hits where first -- he's pretty sure there's a shoulder or an elbow to the side of his head somewhere along the way -- but his hands are stinging pretty badly after contact with the ground. Or Maes. Or whatever. There was contact, it was unyielding, and ow.
... This jungle is going to be the death of him.
He rolls off to the side, idly rubbing one palm with the thumb of his other hand, and keeps a careful eye in the direction the herd came from. Just in case.]
Always knew you were gonna bring me down with you.
[Okay, so it's a bad joke and there's a certain breathless, distracted quality in his voice that speaks to, well, distraction, but hey. He's durable too.
Sorry about the probable elbow-in-gut, though.]
no subject
Shut your face.
As he flips over with a groan, he hesitates — and then reaches toward.]
Huh...
Don't suppose this could be why we almost got ourselves stampeded on?
[When he flips over to sit up, he holds out a rather large and bloodied spearhead.]
no subject
He looks at what Maes is holding and just... just blinks at it for a second.]
I'd run from that, too.
no subject
We're not alone, then.
Thought so.
[Well.
Fuck.]