Безопасность прежде всего.

Probeda Aero Manufacturing Owner and Manager ((OC Roleplay blog. I'll rp with anyone, just drop an ask or tag with his name, Rasputin Zaleskii! :) ))

[mischievous-shinigami-blog]

ask-thepastaguy and rasputinz started following you

[mischievous-shinigami-blog]

It was all Ronald could do to stop himself from snorting aloud with merry laughter. A black-gloved hand flew to his mouth to suppress the giggle just before it bubbled out. “Oi, suh. Got a name? I do, an’ it ain’t ‘Reaper’.” He held out his hand for a handshake. “It’s Ron. Call me Ron. An’ it’s a pleasure t’ meet ya, regardless a’ whether ya… investigate me. Or wotever.”

[rasputinz-blog]

Rasputin’s eyes narrowed quickly as the stranger spoke, his nose wrinkling slightly. He definitely wasn’t the type of person who caught his interest. There was some sort of strange power at work here, as far as the sensor in his left arm could tell, but his brain was… lacking in intellectual activity. That is to say, he had a completely average amount of brain activity, and Rasputin found that so… boring.

“Yes… Hello, Ron,” he said slowly, a practice smile on his face and a friendly tone in his voice to mask his distaste. “I am Rasputin Zaleskii, designer and manufacturer of aircrafts for the US Airforce, as well as other… ah, weaponry.” He flexed his left hand subtly. “It is nice to meet you.”

[mischievous-shinigami-blog]

Disgust. A perfectly normal human emotion—and one that had a noticeable scent to it. Ronald, in turn, wrinkled his own little button nose and pursed his lips in a childish expression of thought. He could practically feel himself being judged. He knew most humans did that upon meeting another—but with this fellow, it was… stifling, almost. Rather like how stifling a disapproving gaze from his supervisor could be….

“Pleasure t’ meet ya,” Ronald repeated, bowing a little at the other, “Mr. Zaleskii.” He didn’t dare attempt to say ‘Rasputin’, knowing that he’d inevitably drop the T, as was his Cockney way—and probably earn himself another disapproving stare. “Weaponry? So yer in th’ defense business, then. Or… somefink like tha’. Beg yer pardon, but ya don’t talk like a Yank. Yer accent… Eastern Europe, somewhereabouts?”

[rasputinz-blog]

It was easy to tell that the reaper was conducting himself much more cautiously now. Had Rasputin really been that obvious with his disapproval? He had hidden it expertly, as he was a public figure, who was experienced with hiding his true feelings in front of people. Maybe as a reaper, this man had some sort of ability to sense people's emotions.

"I am Russian," he answered the man's inquisition with his usual blank face, habitually tapping his left arm with his fingernails, making small metallic clicking sounds. "Tell me. What exactly does a reaper do? Is it like the stories I was told as a child? Do you take away the souls of the dead?"

[mammaterasu-archive-blog]

rasputinz started following you

[mammaterasu-archive-blog]

Modern choice of clothing, no doubt a mortal. She had yet to meet different humans of different cultures and so on. Eatern and western culture was checked, now for the rest. Being a goddess, Amaterasu always liked to dive deep into other customs. Knowledge is power as they say. Well in her case it was more for harmless information. 

“Arf! Arf!”

[rasputinz-blog]

Rasputin glanced down, surprised by the sudden barking at his feet. Hell, he wasn't much of an animal person, but he didn't particularly dislike them either, unless they proved themselves to be untrained or annoying. Was this animal even owned by anyone? It seemed to be a wolf, rather than a normal pet.

His eyebrows furrowing a little, he folded up his blueprints and tucked them into his jacket, then he crouched down by the wolf, holding his hand out. "Hello, volk," he said quietly, addressing her with the Russian word for wolf. "What are you doing around here, hm?"

[rasputinz-blog]

((Going to bed, it's 2:10 am here;; Good night everyone, I'll reply to rps when I wake up!))

[digital-ang3l-deactivated201207]

A new source of data has arrived.

[digital-ang3l-deactivated201207]

The units eyes scanned the others work and then click back to him.

“Nothing sir just passing through, may I ask what you’re doing?”

He glanced down at his blueprints and then back at the boy, his eyes narrowing slightly as he searches through the vast store of information in his brain, trying to put his finger on this hunch of his. “They’re blueprints for a new model of fighter jet, which I am designing to be manufactured and sold to the US Government…”

He cleared his throat and tapped the fingers of his right hand against his left forearm absentmindedly, making small metallic noises. “You interest me somehow, kid, and I’m not exactly sure why…” His Russian accent was slightly thicker, as he was trying to think as he spoke. “Anyways, my name is Rasputin Zaleskii. Nice to meet you.”

The subject is attempting to figure out your identity. Engage accordingly.

“The US government? How interesting..you must make a lot of money then. I am Lotte by the way. Nice to meet you Rasputin Zaleskii.” He sticks out a hand cocking his head a little, “How exactly do I interest you?”

“Nice to meet you, Lotte…” a smile crossed his lips as he reached down and took his hand. However, instead of shaking it and letting go, he held on, bending down to knock lightly on the boy’s head with his metal left hand.

“Hm…” His lips parted in a grin. “Tell me, Lotte. Do you, by any chance, have any percentage of robotic intelligence built into you, or are my sensors simply detecting lot of tinfoil under your clothes?”

The subject has entered your personal space and is examining your exoskeleton. Responding accordingly.

You hold onto Rasputin’s hand noticing it too like your interior is made of metal. Then you respond to his question. “Yes actually. I am made entirely of metal and am operating on a AI unit.” Your lips part in a smile back at the man.

[rasputinz-blog]

His lips moving to silently form the words in amazement, Rasputin leans back, releasing the boy's hand. "An AI unit... that is one advanced unit you have there." He flipped open a small panel on his left palm, which let out a jet of green light, scanning the boy before him as he closed his eyes. "Yeah. These are some marvellous diagnostics. Do you happen to know who created you, Lotte?"

[mischievous-shinigami-blog]

ask-thepastaguy and rasputinz started following you

‘Ello, lads, an’ welcome!

I’m Ronald Knox, a reaper to die for from th’ London Dispatch, at yer service! ~ ☆

[rasputinz-blog]

Rasputin frowned, analyzing the man before him. That was quite an interesting cockney accent he had there. “Reaper,” he replied, his own small Russian accent noticeable as he raised his eyebrows. “How intriguing. I am unsure whether this interests me enough to investigate further or not.”

[mischievous-shinigami-blog]

It was all Ronald could do to stop himself from snorting aloud with merry laughter. A black-gloved hand flew to his mouth to suppress the giggle just before it bubbled out. “Oi, suh. Got a name? I do, an’ it ain’t ‘Reaper’.” He held out his hand for a handshake. “It’s Ron. Call me Ron. An’ it’s a pleasure t’ meet ya, regardless a’ whether ya… investigate me. Or wotever.”

[rasputinz-blog]

Rasputin's eyes narrowed quickly as the stranger spoke, his nose wrinkling slightly. He definitely wasn't the type of person who caught his interest. There was some sort of strange power at work here, as far as the sensor in his left arm could tell, but his brain was... lacking in intellectual activity. That is to say, he had a completely average amount of brain activity, and Rasputin found that so... boring.

"Yes... Hello, Ron," he said slowly, a practice smile on his face and a friendly tone in his voice to mask his distaste. "I am Rasputin Zaleskii, designer and manufacturer of aircrafts for the US Airforce, as well as other... ah, weaponry." He flexed his left hand subtly. "It is nice to meet you."

[digital-ang3l-deactivated201207]

A new source of data has arrived.

rasputinz 

“Greetings.”

[rasputinz-blog]

He glances down from his work, an eyebrow cocked. “Hey there, kid, what’s up?”

He had a suspicious feeling toward this kid, like he was something other than what he looked like…

[digital-ang3l-deactivated201207]

The units eyes scanned the others work and then click back to him.

“Nothing sir just passing through, may I ask what you’re doing?”

[rasputinz-blog]

He glanced down at his blueprints and then back at the boy, his eyes narrowing slightly as he searches through the vast store of information in his brain, trying to put his finger on this hunch of his. “They’re blueprints for a new model of fighter jet, which I am designing to be manufactured and sold to the US Government…”

He cleared his throat and tapped the fingers of his right hand against his left forearm absentmindedly, making small metallic noises. “You interest me somehow, kid, and I’m not exactly sure why…” His Russian accent was slightly thicker, as he was trying to think as he spoke. “Anyways, my name is Rasputin Zaleskii. Nice to meet you.”

[digital-ang3l-deactivated201207]

The subject is attempting to figure out your identity. Engage accordingly.

“The US government? How interesting..you must make a lot of money then. I am Lotte by the way. Nice to meet you Rasputin Zaleskii.” He sticks out a hand cocking his head a little, “How exactly do I interest you?”

[rasputinz-blog]

"Nice to meet you, Lotte..." a smile crossed his lips as he reached down and took his hand. However, instead of shaking it and letting go, he held on, bending down to knock lightly on the boy's head with his metal left hand.

"Hm..." His lips parted in a grin. "Tell me, Lotte. Do you, by any chance, have any percentage of robotic intelligence built into you, or are my sensors simply detecting lot of tinfoil under your clothes?"

[mischievous-shinigami-blog]

ask-thepastaguy and rasputinz started following you

‘Ello, lads, an’ welcome!

I’m Ronald Knox, a reaper to die for from th’ London Dispatch, at yer service! ~ ☆

[rasputinz-blog]

Rasputin frowned, analyzing the man before him. That was quite an interesting cockney accent he had there. "Reaper," he replied, his own small Russian accent noticeable as he raised his eyebrows. "How intriguing. I am unsure whether this interests me enough to investigate further or not."

[somescarycon-blog]

Winter never usually got bored, and if he did, he usually ignored it and patiently waited for orders. But he knew no orders were coming for a long time, and the bar was not as entertaining as it looked from outside. He looked at his beer with a grimace, narrowing his pitch black eyes as he scanned the label. It said “best booze on Earth” but Winter had to disagree. It tasted like rubbing alcohol, and didn’t feel much better going down the throat.

He directed his attention elsewhere, looking at the inhabitants of the bar and finding no one particularly interesting. They were all so predictable and stereotypical, he could even accurately guess the next thing that would come from their disgustingly ignorant mouths. He chewed on the inside of his mouth and turned back towards his beer, but he didn’t bother picking it up again. 

Winter searched his pockets, hoping to find something to entertain himself, but all he had was his wallet, and he already knew everything about its contents. He settled on chewing the tip of his beer bottle, seeing which would break first: his teeth or the bottle?

[rasputinz-blog]

It was an unusually chilly day in the city today, and as Rasputin made his way idly along the busy streets, he could only wonder what normal people did on days like this. It couldn’t be anything actually worthwhile. That woman there was probably going to buy shoes for her kid, based on the way she was dressed and the magazine she was clutching in her hands as she walked deliberately toward the mall. That man was most likely going to a meeting, to discuss whatever mundane product he sold at his small business, judging by his moderately formal clothes and his briefcase.

But these people didn’t interest Rasputin in the slightest. They were normal civilians, with normal, stupid little minds. He only cared about those with higher brain activity, who actually understood things of importance.

However, one group of people that always amused him, despite the slower processing speed in their brain, was the group of drunkards in the dingy local bar that he sometimes glanced inside of. He never went in, as the beer was atrocious and he had enough money to buy his own winery, but it always entertained him to just take a quick look at what those rowdy people were doing at the time.

“Grigorii, hold on for just a moment,” he ordered his faithful old butler, who immediately stopped. With his usual strut, he strolled over to the window of the dark bar, glancing inside as he leaned against the woodwork. As usual, there were the drunks, one of which was on the table, dancing and singing while the others gathered around him, clapping and singing along. Rasputin smirked, and his blue-green eyes started to wander to the few lone figures around the bar. A couple women who looked as if they didn’t want to be bothered, a large and muscular man who was giving off a clear “come near me and die” message, and another man, sitting at the bar and chewing on his bottle…

Hm. How interesting. From what he could see from his vantage point by the window, the man didn’t seem as ignorant as normal people. Granted, he definitely wasn’t genius as Rasputin himself, that was a rarity that Rasputin had only seen once, which had turned out to become his arch rival; but this man at least had an understanding gleam in his eyes, rather than the dull, mindless gaze of an average human being.

After staring for a long time, debating about it, Rasputin finally decided to try talking to him. Hell, even if he was wrong, maybe the man could turn out to be a good drinking partner. He would probably enjoy the expensive Kauffman vodka which Rasputin had had imported directly from Russia much more than the grime sold here… anyone in their right mind would.

“Grigorii, I’m going to step inside for a moment,” he called back, keeping his eyes locked on the man. “You wait out here, I’ll probably be right back.” Quickly adjusting the collar of his high-class pea coat, he opened the door and walked in, ignoring the amazed stare of the bartender, who probably thought he was going to get business from a celebrity. Hah, in his dreams.

Without hesitation, he walked straight up to the man at the bar and sat down beside him. “Tell me,” he said, his voice low and quick as usual, his Russian accent very thick, “is it just me or do you perhaps have a higher cognitive processing speed than the average person you see in this bar?” He drew close to the man, looking up at him intensely, analyzing every twitch of his facial muscle and every uncomfortable glance of his eyes.

[somescarycon-blog]

Winter blinked, his completely black eyes widening ever so slightly in shock at being approached so directly. He looked the man over, analyzing everything about his appearance, and muttered out of habit a small “processing…” under his breath and looked up.

“Perhaps so, though I may not be what you’re looking for…” he grumbled awkwardly, nervously puffing the pale blonde hair out of his eyes. He never actually knew how to…. “socialize”, nor had he ever been approached. And he didn’t see this man in the bar before, so that must’ve meant he came from outside, and he could see that he hadn’t ordered a drink yet so he must have come in just to speak with him but that didn’t make sense because-

“GAH!” he gasped aloud as his eye began twitching rapidly, “Sorry, I don’t…talk…ever….hi….I’m W-Winter,” he murmured quietly, tripping over his words spoken in a thick German accent.

[rasputinz-blog]

Well, that was quite an interesting reaction. Rasputin blinked, befuddled for a moment, before his smile returned. This seemed to be a very peculiar person, and he wanted to study him.

“It’s very good to meet you, Winter,” he replied smoothly, with the social expertise of a celebrity. “My name is Rasputin Zaleskii. I’ll tell you what, Winter. If you come with me to talk for a while, I will offer you some of the world’s best vodka. I just want to talk.” God, that was a terrible way to put it. He sounded like a rapist. He cleared his throat and added in a fake, but very believably friendly tone, “I just want to get to know you, I promise. Nothing sketchy. Boredom is an awful thing for a super genius like myself.”

Damn it, James had told him not to let his ego show to strangers. Oh well, it was a mistake, and he didn’t actually care that much.

“…Please?”

((Wow sorry I took so long, Zombie. I had this saved on my iPod, but I was too distracted by Tony Stark and attractive people. No good excuses on my part;;))

[somescarycon-blog]

Winter chewed on the inside of his cheek, giving Rasputin a very confused and analytical look before awkwardly murmuring, “You aren’t a rapist, are you?”

It took Winter a while to register just what exactly had come out of his mouth, but his face instantly turned bright red and his black eyes widened.

“OH DEAR!! I-I DIDN’T MEAN IT LIKE THAT!! I-I just never get approached by anyone and I’m never invited anywhere to drink and chat so the more robotic side of my mind tells me that it’s to do something bad but you don’t look like a robber or anything so it jumped to conclusions a-and I’m very sorry I will stop ranting now yes I would love some vodka.”

[rasputinz-blog]

At the sudden exclamation, Rasputin jumped, shocked at this man’s random switch from quiet murmuring to shouting. “Ah… yes… you are correct, I am not a—”

He came to an abrupt stop as he registered what had just been said. “Wait, hold on, did you just say… robotic mind?” He stared, involuntarily moving closer in his excitement. Now this was interesting!  ”You mean your brain itself is an artificial intelligence!? Incredible! I didn’t realize it was possible, it—” He paused, a slow grin coming to his face as he turned, tapping the fingers of his left hand to his lips in thought. “Oh, the things I could do with this knowledge! So many improvements, so many technological advances!”

With no warning, he suddenly straightened and held his left arm out in front of him; then, with his right, he opened a small metal compartment in his forearm, revealing a network of screws, bolts, and metal pieces. “Look, Winter,” he said quickly, his voice quick and low with excitement. “I am also partially mechanic. My left arm and my right leg, I lost them both in a failed test flight for one of my planes, and I replaced them both with robotic prosthetics.” He tapped one of his rings against it, producing the high ring of metal hitting metal. “All I have to do is conceal the metal with artificial skin, and it looks completely natural, except for a very subtle difference in skin tones, which you can see if you look very close.”

He looked back up, and then hesitated. Maybe he should try to tone his mannerisms down a bit, he might frighten his subject— or, acquaintance.

Sighing, he continued more slowly. “I know it may seem a bit unusual for me to ask this of you, Winter, but may I test you, perhaps?”

[somescarycon-blog]

Winter fidgeted and squeaked in discomfort, looking away to hide his sudden fear. He didn’t want to be tested anymore, and besides, it was only a small part of his brain that THEY had tampered with. He unconsciously shuddered, and shook his head rapidly.

“I-I apologize, however, it appears you may be, uhm…confused….t-to start, it is only one portion of my mind that has been REPLACED by people in an incident that I-I would rather not talk about, so as you can imagine, I am rather….against testing…that, and, it is nothing that you could really find to be of use…it only acts as a hindrance….”

Winter paused and stared at his bottle, uncomfortably itching the back of his head and heaving a hefty sigh. He remembered what Ty told him about meeting new people. She would always say, “look, weirdo, everybody is a fuckin’ suspicious character to you so don’t be a god damn idiotic dumbass. Give people the benefit of the doubt and don’t talk to them like they’re a target, you might make a friend you’re glad you have. And stop talking like a robot, believe it or not, it freaks people out.” Ty always was one of his more inspirational friends.

“Though…I do have friends that are entirely robotic in every sense of the word, though they live off-planet…I could probably find one that wouldn’t mind being tested on if you’d like…?” he offered with a shy, apologetic smile.

[rasputinz-blog]

Damn it. So he wasn't going to cooperate. How irritating. He would have to be more cautious about it... He couldn't pass up this chance for entertainment.

In a comforting gesture, Rasputin reached out and placed a hand on the man's shoulder, smiling. "Winter, you have it all wrong. These tests I want to conduct... I'm not going to do anything to you, I just want to talk to you about it. Ask you some questions. You know, just a chat, right?" He leaned back in his chair, spinning it as he waited patiently. There was nothing he could do now except bargain. Evidently, there was no way he would be conducting any sort of neuro studies until much later. He would have to just wait.

[digital-ang3l-deactivated201207]

A new source of data has arrived.

rasputinz 

“Greetings.”

[rasputinz-blog]

He glances down from his work, an eyebrow cocked. “Hey there, kid, what’s up?”

He had a suspicious feeling toward this kid, like he was something other than what he looked like…

[digital-ang3l-deactivated201207]

The units eyes scanned the others work and then click back to him.

“Nothing sir just passing through, may I ask what you’re doing?”

[rasputinz-blog]

He glanced down at his blueprints and then back at the boy, his eyes narrowing slightly as he searches through the vast store of information in his brain, trying to put his finger on this hunch of his. "They're blueprints for a new model of fighter jet, which I am designing to be manufactured and sold to the US Government..."

He cleared his throat and tapped the fingers of his right hand against his left forearm absentmindedly, making small metallic noises. "You interest me somehow, kid, and I'm not exactly sure why..." His Russian accent was slightly thicker, as he was trying to think as he spoke. "Anyways, my name is Rasputin Zaleskii. Nice to meet you."

[digital-ang3l-deactivated201207]

A new source of data has arrived.

rasputinz 

“Greetings.”

[rasputinz-blog]

He glances down from his work, an eyebrow cocked. "Hey there, kid, what's up?"

He had a suspicious feeling toward this kid, like he was something other than what he looked like...

[rasputinz-blog]

Well then...

I suppose it's about time for me to stop hoping for the impossible and to move on with my life. ...Fuck.

[artem-amorum]

Intoxicated as he was, it seemed strange to James to see Rasputin being anything less than his usual excitable and confident self, even for a moment. Yet still, intoxicated as he was, the alcohol hadn’t stopped James’ inner caring friend from making its way to the surface and doing what it could to make sure the man he knew so well remained the man he knew so well. 

“Whaaatever, you don’t need all those sleazy women, y’know? You’re better th’n that, ‘nd besides, you have me, Ras!” Half of James was hardly sure what words were coming out of his mouth, or if they even made sense at all, but the other half, the half that had his heart in it, wanted nothing than a smile on his friend’s face. In and out, coming and going. None of these women ever really meant a damn thing to Rasputin, and James knew it. He deserved love, he deserved someone who cared, he deserved happiness.

Well, James cared, didn’t he? But no, that didn’t matter…not when it came to love. James would do anything for Rasputin, but he knew that. 

Didn’t he?

It was true that he never particularly conveyed any of these feelings to the other. But they were men, and best friends. Not that the fact of gender mattered to the older man, but Rasputin was interested in women, and though James was always the smooth talker with women, fearless and confident, it was different with Rasputin. After knowing him for so long, after going through what the two of them did together, he’d hoped it was at least obvious that James cared deeply for Rasputin.

But no, he couldn’t bring him love, and the happiness of it. After all the happiness Rasputin had probably unknowingly brought to James over the years, yes, he definitely deserved a good amount of his own.

“Heeey Ras,” he drawled, though quieter and more gently this time, “you oughta have a hundred somebodies, y’know? But y’should love one of em. You should find one that you reeeally love, y’know. And they’ll love y’too.” 

[artem-amorum]

At this point, Rasputin couldn’t even tell if James was talking earnestly, or if the alcohol was speaking for him. He was slurring and flopping around, despite Rasputin’s hold on him. Maybe giving him 195 proof vodka wasn’t the best idea; but then again, hardly any of his ideas were exactly genius, unless he was blueprinting a new model.

As James drawled on, his heart began to beat faster and faster, making him feel almost panicked. His hand started squeezing his friend’s shoulder tightly without his notice, and his head drooped a little. His vision was a bit fuzzy now, but he wasn’t sure whether it was from the alcohol or… something else.

To hell with everything James was saying. He should find someone he really loved? Too bad, that wasn’t going to happen, because the person he loved didn’t exactly love him back. He was a narcissistic, sarcastic, selfish, reckless alcoholic, and James had Amelia, who was nice and… well, normal.

“Ugh, I know, I know! Enough!” He finally snapped, letting go of James and throwing his arms in the air in exasperation and defeat. “All this talk about love, always dogging my ass! Do you think I haven’t thought about it? Well, since we’re all being up close and personal here, yes, I have thought about it! I’ve thought about it quite a lot, in fact, but the thing is, it’s… it’s impossible for me. It won’t happen. I’ve… I’ve fallen in love with… I don’t know how it…”

He trailed to a stop, then groaned in frustration and poured himself a large drink, gulping it down quickly. His lips were taught and frowning harshly, his eyes upset. Hoping his friend wouldn’t see, he turned away and wiped them with his already wet hand. This was absolutely deplorable.

“…You’re drunk,” he said quietly after a short silence. “Your brain isn’t working at normal capacity.” He wasn’t sure why he had pointed that out, or why the fact sort of hurt. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Grigorii poke his head out the door, his attention caught by his master’s raised voice, but Rasputin waved him off quickly. He didn’t want the whole goddamn neighborhood seeing him like this, one person he loved was enough.

A frown couldn’t help but make its way to James’ face at the scene before him, even with as little sense as most of it made, but there probably wasn’t much that would make sense while he was in a state like this. It was bad enough that this intoxication came so quickly too him, even with the excuse in his defense of the alcohol being strong, but no amount of drinks could drown out a certain kind of feeling for this man. It wasn’t the first time he’d seen his best friend like this, in fact James had lost count of how many times he’d had to comfort some sort of drastic “depression” from the man while he’d be intoxicated so many times. It was nothing new, but this…this was different. This wasn’t the man he knew, and this expression on his face wasn’t one that he’d ever seen. It felt wrong. He would have done anything to stop it, except…

Well, right now, he was quite drunk. And the only thing he could think straight long enough to do was to reach out to the other, putting his hand on his and leaning forward, looking at the other through his half-lidded eyes.

“Ras…?”

[rasputinz-blog]

Okay, so maybe that one extra drink hadn’t been such a good idea… at least, not right now, when he really just needed to keep a straight head. Now, as he looked down into James’ eyes, his mind muddled and confused, all he could really register we’re those warm hazel eyes, staring up at him through drunken half-lids.

He knew those eyes so well.

He always saw them; always saw their owner,, whether he was doing something bad, or had told a funny joke or said something completely perplexing and unfathomable to the normal human mind… but James were different. The way he looked at him, he could always tell he understood him, as no other person had. He knew, when he rambled about some completely ambiguous topic such as statistics of various things or the stupidity of normal people, exactly what he meant, exactly when he said it. It didn’t take him a long time to digest the information, look through the cognitive processes of his brain, check the stores of the limited vocabulary he possessed (normal people, at least), and translate into stupid people speech. He already knew and he could follow up the rants with a valid response, usually with teasing banter.

…And god damn it, Rasputin loved him for it. He loved him so much, it hurt. It felt like a knife in his heart every time he mentioned Amelia, or love, or anything. It had become so bad that every word hurt.

But now, as he drew closer, looking at Rasputin with the usual concern on his face, despite being completely inebriated, Rasputin couldn’t stop himself. The alcohol goaded him on as he lifted his hand, running it gently through the hair on the back of his friend’s neck, and then pulled lightly, guiding James’ lips to his own.

Despite everything; despite Amelia and friendship and all of the risks, Rasputin pulled James close, his arms wrapped tightly around him, his lips pressed against his, tears barely held back behind closed eyes. Despite everything, Rasputin kissed James for the very first time.

[artem-amorum]

Through the intoxication and mellow mood, James’ eyes shot open in surprise at the sudden kiss. It wasn’t clear if the red tint to his cheeks was from the buzz of the alcohol, or because of the surprise of the lips against his. 

It felt different, strange, but under the influence of everything he drank, he only settled into the embrace and let his eyes droop half-closed once more as he took it in. There was a part, of course, that was still completely concious of it all. This is your best friend, come on, aren’t you going to do something? Phrases of the sort tumbled around in his mind, but it all required too much brain power that he didn’t possess to do anything.

But even if he did want to try and stop it, the longer it went on like that, he could feel a warmth from his friend, and an intensity from his kiss that made James think that even if he did have the power to pull himself away, he should have probably just let it happen until it was over.

[rasputinz-blog]

Kissing James and holding him close was the best feeling Rasputin had had in a long time. He felt a strange sort of relief, as if all of his stress from his confusion had flooded out on him as soon as their lips touched.  

But it wasn't to last.

Slowly, his rational mind caught up with his actions, and he remembered everything. This was his best friend. His best friend who had a girlfriend. It was... it wasn't to be. He was just fucking everything up, causing problems for the one he loved. What a terrible friend he was.

With the alcohol influencing his emotions, the tears quickly began to flow as his eyes shot open, an he pushed James away, feeling a bit of his heart break off and follow after him. For a moment, all he could do was stare with wide eyes as he registered this sudden crippling pain in his chest; then he swallowed, and cursed in a deadpan voice.

"Fuck."

He had to somehow fix this... but not right now. He had done it, he had committed the crime, and now he needed to avoid James for a few days... a few weeks? A month or so. However long it took for him to get over these feelings he had... maybe even years.

"James, I..." No. He had to just leave. There was no excuse for this, nothing he could do to redeem himself. Quietly, he muttered, "I'm sorry," before standing and turning away, stumbling hastily back toward the door.

[somescarycon-blog]

Winter never usually got bored, and if he did, he usually ignored it and patiently waited for orders. But he knew no orders were coming for a long time, and the bar was not as entertaining as it looked from outside. He looked at his beer with a grimace, narrowing his pitch black eyes as he scanned the label. It said “best booze on Earth” but Winter had to disagree. It tasted like rubbing alcohol, and didn’t feel much better going down the throat.

He directed his attention elsewhere, looking at the inhabitants of the bar and finding no one particularly interesting. They were all so predictable and stereotypical, he could even accurately guess the next thing that would come from their disgustingly ignorant mouths. He chewed on the inside of his mouth and turned back towards his beer, but he didn’t bother picking it up again. 

Winter searched his pockets, hoping to find something to entertain himself, but all he had was his wallet, and he already knew everything about its contents. He settled on chewing the tip of his beer bottle, seeing which would break first: his teeth or the bottle?

[rasputinz-blog]

It was an unusually chilly day in the city today, and as Rasputin made his way idly along the busy streets, he could only wonder what normal people did on days like this. It couldn’t be anything actually worthwhile. That woman there was probably going to buy shoes for her kid, based on the way she was dressed and the magazine she was clutching in her hands as she walked deliberately toward the mall. That man was most likely going to a meeting, to discuss whatever mundane product he sold at his small business, judging by his moderately formal clothes and his briefcase.

But these people didn’t interest Rasputin in the slightest. They were normal civilians, with normal, stupid little minds. He only cared about those with higher brain activity, who actually understood things of importance.

However, one group of people that always amused him, despite the slower processing speed in their brain, was the group of drunkards in the dingy local bar that he sometimes glanced inside of. He never went in, as the beer was atrocious and he had enough money to buy his own winery, but it always entertained him to just take a quick look at what those rowdy people were doing at the time.

“Grigorii, hold on for just a moment,” he ordered his faithful old butler, who immediately stopped. With his usual strut, he strolled over to the window of the dark bar, glancing inside as he leaned against the woodwork. As usual, there were the drunks, one of which was on the table, dancing and singing while the others gathered around him, clapping and singing along. Rasputin smirked, and his blue-green eyes started to wander to the few lone figures around the bar. A couple women who looked as if they didn’t want to be bothered, a large and muscular man who was giving off a clear “come near me and die” message, and another man, sitting at the bar and chewing on his bottle…

Hm. How interesting. From what he could see from his vantage point by the window, the man didn’t seem as ignorant as normal people. Granted, he definitely wasn’t genius as Rasputin himself, that was a rarity that Rasputin had only seen once, which had turned out to become his arch rival; but this man at least had an understanding gleam in his eyes, rather than the dull, mindless gaze of an average human being.

After staring for a long time, debating about it, Rasputin finally decided to try talking to him. Hell, even if he was wrong, maybe the man could turn out to be a good drinking partner. He would probably enjoy the expensive Kauffman vodka which Rasputin had had imported directly from Russia much more than the grime sold here… anyone in their right mind would.

“Grigorii, I’m going to step inside for a moment,” he called back, keeping his eyes locked on the man. “You wait out here, I’ll probably be right back.” Quickly adjusting the collar of his high-class pea coat, he opened the door and walked in, ignoring the amazed stare of the bartender, who probably thought he was going to get business from a celebrity. Hah, in his dreams.

Without hesitation, he walked straight up to the man at the bar and sat down beside him. “Tell me,” he said, his voice low and quick as usual, his Russian accent very thick, “is it just me or do you perhaps have a higher cognitive processing speed than the average person you see in this bar?” He drew close to the man, looking up at him intensely, analyzing every twitch of his facial muscle and every uncomfortable glance of his eyes.

[somescarycon-blog]

Winter blinked, his completely black eyes widening ever so slightly in shock at being approached so directly. He looked the man over, analyzing everything about his appearance, and muttered out of habit a small “processing…” under his breath and looked up.

“Perhaps so, though I may not be what you’re looking for…” he grumbled awkwardly, nervously puffing the pale blonde hair out of his eyes. He never actually knew how to…. “socialize”, nor had he ever been approached. And he didn’t see this man in the bar before, so that must’ve meant he came from outside, and he could see that he hadn’t ordered a drink yet so he must have come in just to speak with him but that didn’t make sense because-

“GAH!” he gasped aloud as his eye began twitching rapidly, “Sorry, I don’t…talk…ever….hi….I’m W-Winter,” he murmured quietly, tripping over his words spoken in a thick German accent.

[rasputinz-blog]

Well, that was quite an interesting reaction. Rasputin blinked, befuddled for a moment, before his smile returned. This seemed to be a very peculiar person, and he wanted to study him.

“It’s very good to meet you, Winter,” he replied smoothly, with the social expertise of a celebrity. “My name is Rasputin Zaleskii. I’ll tell you what, Winter. If you come with me to talk for a while, I will offer you some of the world’s best vodka. I just want to talk.” God, that was a terrible way to put it. He sounded like a rapist. He cleared his throat and added in a fake, but very believably friendly tone, “I just want to get to know you, I promise. Nothing sketchy. Boredom is an awful thing for a super genius like myself.”

Damn it, James had told him not to let his ego show to strangers. Oh well, it was a mistake, and he didn’t actually care that much.

“…Please?”

((Wow sorry I took so long, Zombie. I had this saved on my iPod, but I was too distracted by Tony Stark and attractive people. No good excuses on my part;;))

[somescarycon-blog]

Winter chewed on the inside of his cheek, giving Rasputin a very confused and analytical look before awkwardly murmuring, “You aren’t a rapist, are you?”

It took Winter a while to register just what exactly had come out of his mouth, but his face instantly turned bright red and his black eyes widened.

“OH DEAR!! I-I DIDN’T MEAN IT LIKE THAT!! I-I just never get approached by anyone and I’m never invited anywhere to drink and chat so the more robotic side of my mind tells me that it’s to do something bad but you don’t look like a robber or anything so it jumped to conclusions a-and I’m very sorry I will stop ranting now yes I would love some vodka.”

[rasputinz-blog]

At the sudden exclamation, Rasputin jumped, shocked at this man's random switch from quiet murmuring to shouting. "Ah... yes... you are correct, I am not a--"

He came to an abrupt stop as he registered what had just been said. "Wait, hold on, did you just say... robotic mind?" He stared, involuntarily moving closer in his excitement. Now this was interesting!  "You mean your brain itself is an artificial intelligence!? Incredible! I didn't realize it was possible, it--" He paused, a slow grin coming to his face as he turned, tapping the fingers of his left hand to his lips in thought. "Oh, the things I could do with this knowledge! So many improvements, so many technological advances!"

With no warning, he suddenly straightened and held his left arm out in front of him; then, with his right, he opened a small metal compartment in his forearm, revealing a network of screws, bolts, and metal pieces. "Look, Winter," he said quickly, his voice quick and low with excitement. "I am also partially mechanic. My left arm and my right leg, I lost them both in a failed test flight for one of my planes, and I replaced them both with robotic prosthetics." He tapped one of his rings against it, producing the high ring of metal hitting metal. "All I have to do is conceal the metal with artificial skin, and it looks completely natural, except for a very subtle difference in skin tones, which you can see if you look very close."

He looked back up, and then hesitated. Maybe he should try to tone his mannerisms down a bit, he might frighten his subject-- or, acquaintance.

Sighing, he continued more slowly. "I know it may seem a bit unusual for me to ask this of you, Winter, but may I test you, perhaps?"

[hellobritish]

[somescarycon-blog]

Winter never usually got bored, and if he did, he usually ignored it and patiently waited for orders. But he knew no orders were coming for a long time, and the bar was not as entertaining as it looked from outside. He looked at his beer with a grimace, narrowing his pitch black eyes as he scanned the label. It said “best booze on Earth” but Winter had to disagree. It tasted like rubbing alcohol, and didn’t feel much better going down the throat.

He directed his attention elsewhere, looking at the inhabitants of the bar and finding no one particularly interesting. They were all so predictable and stereotypical, he could even accurately guess the next thing that would come from their disgustingly ignorant mouths. He chewed on the inside of his mouth and turned back towards his beer, but he didn’t bother picking it up again. 

Winter searched his pockets, hoping to find something to entertain himself, but all he had was his wallet, and he already knew everything about its contents. He settled on chewing the tip of his beer bottle, seeing which would break first: his teeth or the bottle?

[rasputinz-blog]

It was an unusually chilly day in the city today, and as Rasputin made his way idly along the busy streets, he could only wonder what normal people did on days like this. It couldn’t be anything actually worthwhile. That woman there was probably going to buy shoes for her kid, based on the way she was dressed and the magazine she was clutching in her hands as she walked deliberately toward the mall. That man was most likely going to a meeting, to discuss whatever mundane product he sold at his small business, judging by his moderately formal clothes and his briefcase.

But these people didn’t interest Rasputin in the slightest. They were normal civilians, with normal, stupid little minds. He only cared about those with higher brain activity, who actually understood things of importance.

However, one group of people that always amused him, despite the slower processing speed in their brain, was the group of drunkards in the dingy local bar that he sometimes glanced inside of. He never went in, as the beer was atrocious and he had enough money to buy his own winery, but it always entertained him to just take a quick look at what those rowdy people were doing at the time.

“Grigorii, hold on for just a moment,” he ordered his faithful old butler, who immediately stopped. With his usual strut, he strolled over to the window of the dark bar, glancing inside as he leaned against the woodwork. As usual, there were the drunks, one of which was on the table, dancing and singing while the others gathered around him, clapping and singing along. Rasputin smirked, and his blue-green eyes started to wander to the few lone figures around the bar. A couple women who looked as if they didn’t want to be bothered, a large and muscular man who was giving off a clear “come near me and die” message, and another man, sitting at the bar and chewing on his bottle…

Hm. How interesting. From what he could see from his vantage point by the window, the man didn’t seem as ignorant as normal people. Granted, he definitely wasn’t genius as Rasputin himself, that was a rarity that Rasputin had only seen once, which had turned out to become his arch rival; but this man at least had an understanding gleam in his eyes, rather than the dull, mindless gaze of an average human being.

After staring for a long time, debating about it, Rasputin finally decided to try talking to him. Hell, even if he was wrong, maybe the man could turn out to be a good drinking partner. He would probably enjoy the expensive Kauffman vodka which Rasputin had had imported directly from Russia much more than the grime sold here… anyone in their right mind would.

“Grigorii, I’m going to step inside for a moment,” he called back, keeping his eyes locked on the man. “You wait out here, I’ll probably be right back.” Quickly adjusting the collar of his high-class pea coat, he opened the door and walked in, ignoring the amazed stare of the bartender, who probably thought he was going to get business from a celebrity. Hah, in his dreams.

Without hesitation, he walked straight up to the man at the bar and sat down beside him. “Tell me,” he said, his voice low and quick as usual, his Russian accent very thick, “is it just me or do you perhaps have a higher cognitive processing speed than the average person you see in this bar?” He drew close to the man, looking up at him intensely, analyzing every twitch of his facial muscle and every uncomfortable glance of his eyes.

[somescarycon-blog]

Winter blinked, his completely black eyes widening ever so slightly in shock at being approached so directly. He looked the man over, analyzing everything about his appearance, and muttered out of habit a small “processing…” under his breath and looked up.

“Perhaps so, though I may not be what you’re looking for…” he grumbled awkwardly, nervously puffing the pale blonde hair out of his eyes. He never actually knew how to…. “socialize”, nor had he ever been approached. And he didn’t see this man in the bar before, so that must’ve meant he came from outside, and he could see that he hadn’t ordered a drink yet so he must have come in just to speak with him but that didn’t make sense because-

“GAH!” he gasped aloud as his eye began twitching rapidly, “Sorry, I don’t…talk…ever….hi….I’m W-Winter,” he murmured quietly, tripping over his words spoken in a thick German accent.

[rasputinz-blog]

Well, that was quite an interesting reaction. Rasputin blinked, befuddled for a moment, before his smile returned. This seemed to be a very peculiar person, and he wanted to study him.

"It's very good to meet you, Winter," he replied smoothly, with the social expertise of a celebrity. "My name is Rasputin Zaleskii. I'll tell you what, Winter. If you come with me to talk for a while, I will offer you some of the world's best vodka. I just want to talk." God, that was a terrible way to put it. He sounded like a rapist. He cleared his throat and added in a fake, but very believably friendly tone, "I just want to get to know you, I promise. Nothing sketchy. Boredom is an awful thing for a super genius like myself."

Damn it, James had told him not to let his ego show to strangers. Oh well, it was a mistake, and he didn't actually care that much.

"...Please?"

((Wow sorry I took so long, Zombie. I had this saved on my iPod, but I was too distracted by Tony Stark and attractive people. No good excuses on my part;;))

[rasputinz-blog]

.

[rasputinz-blog]

.