Ryner Lute (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
somnusrex) wrote in ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png)
overjoyed_logs2017-03-16 12:16 am
somnusrex) wrote in overjoyed_logs2017-03-16 12:16 am
Entry tags:
[open] perchance to dream...?
Who: Ryner Lute and whoever's unfortunate enough to see his dreams
Where: Ryner's head. I'm sorry.
When: Throughout Chapter 4
Summary: dreams, nightmares, and all the fun that comes with them.
Restrictions/Warnings: Wow, a lot. Uh. Child soldier, genetic experimentation, marginalization (is that a warning?), being shunned and outcast, gore, death of children, suicides, etc.
Various dreams and nightmares in the comments! All are open, if you'd like something special feel free to let me know! I'm happy to set something up.
Where: Ryner's head. I'm sorry.
When: Throughout Chapter 4
Summary: dreams, nightmares, and all the fun that comes with them.
Restrictions/Warnings: Wow, a lot. Uh. Child soldier, genetic experimentation, marginalization (is that a warning?), being shunned and outcast, gore, death of children, suicides, etc.
Various dreams and nightmares in the comments! All are open, if you'd like something special feel free to let me know! I'm happy to set something up.
canon memory cw: mention of mangled bodies i guess
Nothing too bad. Mainly just arrows and a bunch of soldiers on a battlefield. A whole lot of soldiers, in old timey armor. Their leader was also in armor, yelling orders.
But all Ryner could hear was the word "monster."
It was being spoken all around him, either whispered fearfully or said more loudly by those asking that he be put down, that all he could do was kill and destroy.
But no, those were different flashes, tinged in red and in a different place. A village, with huts that had been ransacked. People killed, lying bloody on the paths. Because of him.
That was what he was. A scourge on the earth, a demon meant only to tear things apart, whether or not he wanted to.
Someone important said it next. Back on the battlefield. He couldn't see him; the figure was washed out by greenish blue. But the voice was familiar.
It wasn't said to him, but the equivalence was enough. There had been an official order to kill him should he go out of control.
He left, sadly. As he usually left. This wasn't the first time and it wouldn't be the last, but the blood and bodies were simply too many and it wasn't as if he could hold it against anyone.
He didn't blame them. Any of them. This was what should happen to a monster, after all.
canon memory/Overjoyed memory: cells and confinement and some experimentation in the OJ sections
The walls shifted from stone to steel and back again, but the floor never changed temperature. He found himself unable to sleep on the cot. It was shrouded in waves of color he didn't understand but distrusted anyway.
He read a lot, in stone. In the steel too, but that was augmented with modifications to his body and mind, overheard voices deeming him a success, but with embedded failures. Not enough to deem him a failure on the whole, but "improvements must be made with the next batch" and so on.
It didn't really matter. The loneliness got to him, but it was just a part of it. Being a prisoner was like that, although no one ever called him that to his face.
And still the walls were bare.
Canon/OJ, cw: violence, gore, going berserk, genetic modifications, death
People were everywhere. Soldiers. Yelling, killing, massacring the entirety of the village, and all because of him.
It took him fast, the feeling of no longer being himself. As if from a distance, he watched the bodies of countless soldiers fall, blood staining everything crimson in the darkness. But he couldn't care. Not enough to stop until they were all dead and he was wading through the flesh torn asunder. It was piled nearly to his knees.
And then, he was larger, but still not fully grown. In a field, his friends having been killed, and he had turned on everyone. Coming close to killing people he cared about. Because there was no caring, then. Only erasure of everything that they were or had been. His eyes were closed.
Then, an R&D unit in some sector he couldn't identify. Bodies, surrounding him. His own mind humming with its cacophony of circuity on fire and the infrastructure, all technical components, completely destroyed. An explosion? Maybe. it didn't matter. All that did was erasing it. The bodies at his feet were simply bystanders, but he couldn't care. The noise in his head was too much.
Later, a blonde warrior with a sword telling him that if he'd really wanted to kill her, he would have by now. She finally closed his eyes and made things better, but he cried because, even if it hadn't really been him, he'd wanted to kill her. To make her into nothing.
A ship, light years from anything. A mission, of some sort. His mind was buzzing again, and all the diagnostics of the technology were hitting him like a thousand bricks at once and it hurt. But it wasn't him, just figures and tables and ways to make it stop working, to dismantle it entirely, to destroy the whole ship. Which he'd come close to doing already, if the mangled and detached body parts were any indication. But the auxiliary life support system was still functional...no. "If anyone's still alive, get out! It's going to - I can't make it - it won't be destroyed, only erased -"
just silliness, really. Overjoyed memory; afternoon nap
but there were footsteps, as there always were. Even when he left, Sion kept staff on hand. Which made sense, but he was going to be in for a reprimand if found. And then Sion would come back and scold him and it was all too bothersome to deal with.
He was stretched out on the couch, the fuzzy blanket over him, wanting to catch up on some sleep.
It wasn't as if the couch was too small, or anything like that...
"Before you come in, just know that we're the only ones here, no one cares if you take a nap. I'm gonna, and I won't tell if you don't. There's room here if you want it."
no subject
Company protocol stated that discipline was important, that breaches should be reported and punished. A perfect strategy for those looking to climb the ranks via brown-nosing and back-stabbing -- but Ango wasn't looking for that. Or was he?
(Too much trouble for a game he's watched others play, really.)
"Pardon my intrusion, then."
He's polite -- it isn't his office, after all. But there's a frown he wears as he glances around the room -- he seems to be looking for something (or someone, or somewhere?). Hmm indeed.
no subject
Oh, sure, protocol was important, if you cared about that sort of thing. Ryner, however, didn't. At least not when it came to himself. His colleagues, sure, he'd do pretty much anything to make sure they stayed out of trouble, but he didn't care in the slightest when it came to him. It would just be a headache for Sion if this was reported, that was all.
no subject
(Yes, please.)
"No. I'm in a hurry," came the reply from his turned back as he traces a hand over the binder files on the shelves. "Don't let me get in the way of your nap."
Someone's testy...but for good reason -- these files he's browsing through have been arranged in such a haphazard fashion on the shelf that the calling index has been rendered woefully useless. And there's four more of such shelves, and more files stacked in a neat pile in the corner over there.
Given a few minutes, Ango will have finally taken to pulling the files off one by one to flip through them with growing irritation.
"...what's with these? You can't find anything here at all."
no subject
Oh, Ryner could grump with the best of them, but he was on a comfortable couch with and even more comfortable blanket and was in a pretty good mood because of it.
He watched the guy going through the files, a slight sense of uneasiness floating through him as to what he might be looking for. But Company business was Company business, he supposed, and shrugged at the question.
"The Director's a slavedriver. I'm sure his organization makes sense to him, but he's not exactly normal. What are you looking for?"
Because yeah, chances were that Ryner had worked on whatever it was.
Sorry for the delay! I had a paper due. ;;
An armful of material from a file labelled 2A - Field Reports yields reports from five years ago-- Ango gestures with them half exasperatedly. "It's simply not efficient enough."
...and then, he pauses.
"Can you make sense of this?"
No worries, school is a harsh mistress!
Ryner still had no idea how Sion found anything at all, especially since he never seemed to have trouble with doing so. Still, the piles upon piles of files didn't seem to have any real kind of categorization. A mystery for the ages, he guessed.
"Ehhhh...well. I've worked on a lot of them on his orders, so I might be able to figure some things out. Not a whole lot, though. Sorry, it's just as annoying for me."
It always is, tell me about it.
"I'll take whatever help I can get at this point, honestly." Pause. "It's a start."
Speaking of starts and first times, it's probably the first time in this conversation that Ango notes that he can't really match a name to the face. Sure, there's other questions like where the rest of the division has gone but you know, first things first.
"...in that case, I'll need all files on major incidents within the last six months."
Look, maybe that offer wasn't such a good idea after all.