Solving "people problems"

  "We all must act according to our nature. No matter what the psychologists and priests say."  -RP blog for Walther Dahl // contains major spoilers for Prey(2017) // affiliated with aldebaransea  

[sphinxmemesmusings]

Send me a very scandalous rumor about my muse to see how they would react.

[human-resources-coordinator-blog]

fermi-paradoxical‌:

Morgan was damn close to having her fight or flight response kick in when Kaspar began to float upwards to bonk his C.O. on the head. As she watches the exchange of words she was tempted to laugh a little, the big bad mercenary being chided like a schoolboy who had been throwing a fit, with the schoolmarm role filled by a robot. It was incongruous from what she remembered him as, but then again, many things here were nothing but that. The doctor manages to stifle her amusement and kept her poker face up.“You should listen to them. Their advice is sound, Commander.” Okay, she couldn’t turn the smartassitude completely off, but she’d at least turned it down, her tone hadn’t been mocking, just dry.

The scientist’s brow furrows as she notices that he had punctured his own skin, but she opted not to mention it. She figured he was already well aware of the fact he’d done as much by now, no need to rub it in when he was already calming down. “… Apology accepted.” she says after a brief pause. There was another one after that, and she visibly put thought to something. “I’m not certain how this place works, or if we’re even from the same quantum instance of our home universe.” She’s obviously dancing around the question here, but that’s just like a Yu, isn’t it? “I’m not sure if you’re “my” Dahl or I’m “your” Morgan. We may have made different choices, but…”

Morgan rubs at her head briefly, cradling her forehead in an L formed by her index and middle fingers plus her thumb, the latter on her left temple and the former two on the right, working them in little circular motions for a second or two. With a bitter exhalation she decides to quit prolonging the exercise in vagueness, bringing her gaze back up to the man. “You were trying to kill survivors, Dahl. That includes me.” There’s ice in her eyes and her voice — if there’s to be trouble she will meet it head on, she resolves, but she knows it likely will be smoke and fury in the face of a freight train if that comes to pass.

“Kaspar was programmed to be a bastard, I listen to them so I know what not to do,” he smirked, lightly bumping the operator with his hip and making it mutter and chime indignantly. Actually, he’d probably be dead without the operator at his side, but he wouldn’t admit that even under threat of death. “And they’re not so bold now without their laser,” he added, this time punctuated with rubbing the top of the operators chassis almost affectionately.

With her acceptance of his awkward apology, he nodded quickly and relaxed, but cautiously stuck his hand in his pocket, having noticed Morgan’s glance he now felt uncomfortable. It was small, but the obvious result of throwing a temper tantrum, like of course he would.

He stared uncomfortably, shifting awkwardly while he waited for Morgan’s answer. He was frustrated at the non-answer, but when she finally gave her response, he sucked in a breath like he had been punched.

“I-” he try to choke out more, but his throat felt like it was full of cotton, and he thought he might collapse under his wobbling legs. “I-I would do that, wouldn’t I,” he stated lowly, “Orders from William... right?” His head hurt, he wanted to throw up again. 

“I didn’t do that to you, did I?” he asked, gesturing weakly at her frame, making a more pointed motion to her cane than anything else.

[human-resources-coordinator-blog]

fermi-paradoxical‌:

Morgan was older, more tired, but she looked like she’d aged five or six years when it had only been about two since the incident, at least to her. She’d been that stressed lately, and even being as physically capable as she was right now had been after much effort to regain her motor control. The lines on her face, especially under and at the sides of her eyes, had more depth to them than they had previously. Her right eye was red as could be, but like the rest of her both of them were tired, almost languid, their lids slightly lower than the bright, inquisitive look she had sported in years prior.

The doctor nodded at the man’s explanation as to Kaspar, another glance spared to the robot before being returned to Dahl. She took note of the few new scars, and the incorrigible fact-hound in her was tempted to ask what had made them. Still, she managed to keep herself in check. “Mine too. They even took my wrench, but at least I have some tools and other things I had on me.” Morgan listened as Dahl explained what he thought had happened, but as his tone took a turn for the hostile, those tired eyes were sharp again, open attentively. She felt herself bristle a bit, but she resisted the urge to snap back, falling back on her practiced manner of speaking she used when in a professional context. She knew she was unlikely to come out of an altercation on top without any of her usual kit and half her powers on the fritz, so it was time to use her head. “No, Commander, I don’t know what’s going on here any more than you do. If we’ve had mods pulled, it was both of us, but I don’t think TranStar would send us on a vacation like this. For once, we’re in the exact same boat. Dr. Igwe isn’t a quack, either.” Was that last remark a little antagonistic? Maybe, but she liked Dayo. He was… reliable, if eccentric.

She just hoped Dahl would believe her.

God, he did believe her, at least the logical side of him, but he could feel himself spiraling for a moment, rage blinding him. Someone fucked with him again, first William fucking Yu had his way with him, and that bastard doctor, and now, and he wanted to take it out on someone, all his fear and anxiety forming into rage as he casually considered beating someone- anything, up right where he was--

Bonk.

“Commander Dahl, I may advise you calm down.”

A metal box hitting him in the temple did a wonder on the senses, and the momentary daze brought him back to earth(figuratively, this time), but he still bitterly swatted the box away, shoving Kaspar back down to his hip level.

“Don’t advise me anything, you bastard toaster.”

Taking a shaky breath, he uncurled his still clenched right fist, where he noticed he had dug crescent moons of blood with his ragged nails, and gave the damage a scornful look.

“Fuckin- hell, I,” he frowned, deeper, more sad looking this time. “I’m sorry. For blaming you.And getting pissed.” He snorted and ran his hands through his hair, like that was almost painful to say.

Looking over her again, sudden worry overcame him. He knew he did bad things on Talos, but he wasn’t sure exactly what. Could he have cause whatever has her walking with a cane?

“Morgan, what did I do on Talos?”

[human-resources-coordinator-blog]

fermi-paradoxical‌:

human-resources-coordinator‌

Morgan probably would have objected to the term “fragile”, but since her nerves had been damaged by the Nullwave bomb’s detonation, her strength and endurance had been sapped. It wasn’t that inaccurate, in the end. Perhaps with time and more physical therapy that’d change, but…

She gazed up at the taller man, taking a step back so she didn’t have to crane her neck as far to see eye to eye with him. Her eyes made micro-movements as she took in his haggard face, although in truth she didn’t look much better than he did. Aside from her flawless eyeliner she wasn’t looking too great herself, a few sleepless nights pondering had been in the intervening time since her arrival. She glanced to Kaspar, eyebrows raising for a moment, then back to Dahl.

“I am,” she said. Her voice was cordial but cool in tone as she tried to keep up her composure, getting herself back in order from the surprise of literally running into Dahl. “I’m not sure how. You are too, then? Do you have any idea how we got here, or…?” she asked, trailing off. He didn’t seem hostile, so she took it as this particular version of him as someone who doesn’t remember their past difficulties. That or he was a good actor, but she wasn’t too sure about that much. Still, she’d be remiss to dismiss the possibility entirely.

“What’s the last thing you remember?” she inquired. “I was working on a particular experiment.” Once more she was uncertain to the level of knowledge the Commander has, and Project Cobalt was top-secret, so she opted to be the Yu that she is, employing a healthy dose of being cryptic as she and her ilk were so often wont to do.

With the moments of awkward shifting, Dahl took the chance to push his hair a bit back, uncertain if he looked worse or better with his mess of hair back but his scars exposed. He hadn’t realized how small Morgan was during his prior meetings with her, the thought coming to mind when he noticed her having to look up at him.

She looked older, and more tired. He was certain he looked more tired at least, and there were some new scars on his face, but he was surprised to see Morgan in that state. When she looked to Kaspar, he snorted. “Don’t worry, their laser is gone. Was gone when I woke up.”

“No idea how I’m here. All my guns and knives were gone when I got up, and everything before that is just... Nothing.” He furrowed his brow, and a starkly distressed expression came across his face. Someone tampering with his memories again made him feel like he was going to throw up.

“L-last thing I remember is, landing the shuttle, I think, did-” his expression changed to a more angry one when he looked at her, “Did you have that quack perform another neurotomy on me when we landed? I don’t remember anything between getting orders from your scumbag father and waking up in that blasted chair, and now I don’t remember anything from landing the shuttle until now, it’s- you had to have something to do with it,” he snapped. His hands were shaking, and he was angry at both Morgan and himself suddenly. Of course he lost it first chance to talk to another person, bastard he was, but if another Yu tampered with his memories he was really going to lose it.

[fermi-paradoxical-blog]

It was misty that day in the Sea of Crises. Morgan couldn’t see that far ahead of her on the street, but she’d been trying to figure out what in the hell was going on lately with her new environs, her new home for lack of a better term. She rested her head here, anyway. The good doctor hummed lightly to herself as she headed out of the Palilicium’s doors, a few empty bags hooked over one forearm. Today her knees weren’t killing her, so she managed walking sans her cane, although it was still folded up in one pocket.

Humming a tune lightly, she let her booted feet carry her across the sidewalk down the block to the nearest grocery she had managed to figure out a route to and from. She sadly hadn’t managed to find any Sichuan peppercorns to make mala sauce with, but at least they had chilies and so on, and she was feeling like making something spicy that evening. The good doctor’s stock of food had been low, hence the jaunt.

Her attire wasn’t that complex, just a coat she’d bought with some credits, woolen and dark gray, a simple button-up white blouse, and slacks with her boots she’d acquired, the pants bloused into the footwear.

That was when she rounded a corner in the fog, and then walked headlong into a bearded, long-haired gentleman. “Shit,” she swore as she stumbled, “I’m sorry, I didn’t see-”

Wait, what the hell? She pauses, cutting herself off, eyes flicking across the man. She knew that man, even bedraggled as he was at the moment. Oh, shit. It was Dahl.

“… Commander Dahl,” she said in begrudged greeting, acutely aware she was unarmed (if one didn’t count the cane as a weapon) and not as physically capable as the other.

[human-resources-coordinator-blog]

When Dahl wasn’t really sure what to do with his time and there was no beer to drink, he wandered. So, he threw on a bulky canvas coat with a high collar, pulled his hair in front of his scarred face, and caught a train.

He told himself to get his bearings and he would try, but he found himself in a fogged daze among the many people. Kaspar, bobbing at his hip as to be unobtrusive, recorded much of it for him anyways, if he remembered to ask about it later. 

His stomach growled, and he turned to get something to eat, when a head of brown hair entered his vision and bumped into his broad chest, prompting him to pull his hand out of his pocket to try and steady them.

“It’s fine,” he stated lowly as he stepped back and took in the stranger’s appearance. They were rather fragile looking, and he looked at his hand for a moment, hoping he hadn’t grabbed them too hard.

When she said “Commander” he flinched like he had been burned, but redoubled his effort in looking this person over. God, his head was foggy. 

“Morgan..?” he stated with a questioning note, his brow furrowed. Shit, why couldn’t he remember? Vague memories of her face came to him from their time on the shuttle, and he gripped his hand into a fist, digging his nails into his palm trying to relax himself. “Then, you’re here...” Keen observation, but he wasn’t sure what else to say. 

What had happened between them? he wondered as he continued looking over her and trying to call back some memory not pulled out by a neuromod.

[human-resources-coordinator-blog]

△ Do you think you deserve to be forgiven for the things you've done?

7/10

Dahl breathed harshly through his nose, and retreated further behind his shaggy hair.

“I don’t know what I did, but I doubt it. Things are as they are, and I have no doubt I’m irredeemable as I’ve always been.”

“I don’t think I would know how to repent if I tried.” 

[the-write-ideas]

Send me a △ and ask a really invasive question aimed at my character

They’ll have to:

Rate on a scale of 1-10 how much they don’t want to answer that question.

Answer that question.

[human-resources-coordinator-blog]

“Commander Dahl! Commander Dahl!”

He was awoken on the Ark by Kaspar’s wailing, as he often was when he passed out in unfamiliar places. He wasn’t on the cold tile of a neuromod removal room or the hard bed of a Transtar infirmary, or even the wet pavement he often found himself on, and he didn’t remember going home.

He shot up, hand going for his gun, but it was gone, and he was just clawing uselessly at his holster. Panicking, feeling trapped, he looked to Kaspar, who bobbed closer to his face.

“I have registered no threats, Commander. It is safe to stand down.”

Like hell he would. Grunting and yanking off one of his heavy belts, he was prepared to bean someone with it if need be, and got a handle on his surroundings. A room. There was a closet, what appeared to be a bathroom, a nightstand, with something that looked like a Transcribe. He slid the transcribe off and into one of his pockets, and left the room wielding his belt like a flail, Kaspar bobbing nervously behind him.

He’d never seen a place like this, and he’d seen a lot of fucking places. It was time to get out, find his shuttle, find someone who could explain this to him at a safe distance, something.

At one of the fastest paces he had ever run, he dashed down the staircase and stumbled into the main lobby, whipping his head around, and then looking to Kaspar with a panicked expression.

“Where in the hell is this?” he snapped, relaxing his improvised weapon and sagging against a wall.

[human-resources-coordinator-blog]

Starter call for Walther Dahl! info can be found on app page or on the Prey wiki, capping at 2 for non castmates and three for for castmates to start! 

message me on discord at  rat man 🦐#8194 or on my tumblr at cursewworms if you want to plan or plot, id be happy!