#buzzy.

[satellitecrater]

satellitewar → adventure-based muses

seth shawky, archaeologist buzzy cohen, archaeologist benjamin gates, treasure hunter and cryptologist dr. abigail chase, archivist

[satellitewar-archived]

continued from this, with @areito

buzzy has always enjoyed the hotter climates, the warm hug of humidity — if he stays hydrated and shielded from the sun for the most part, he and shawky can easily manage a long day on a dig site doing what they love and uncovering treasures. it appears that this man, fitzwilliam darcy, the sole supporter of this dig, is inclined to cooler spaces and air conditioned rooms. and that's fine, of course (not everyone is made for outdoor archaeology). it simply adds to the slight amusement, the knowing grins and shared looks between his crew and their biggest contributor. has he ever been on a dig site? has he ever tumbled into a giant dug hole or tripped down a haphazardly thrown together staircase? "do you need an umbrella or something?" buzzy finally asks, joining him by the water cooler and helping himself to a big sip of water. hydration. very important. "keep you cool while we keep looking? i could probably find one in the tents for you, if you'd like."

as for the puzzle, buzzy beams. "oh, we're most definitely thinking this may lead to alexander. if this isn't his current tomb and current whereabouts, then it's the place where ptolemy put him for a while. he was moved around a lot, from what we understand. i still think he's buried in alexandria, personally, probably under some current day building, but until we investigate this spot, we'll never know." buzzy fills up his cup again and studies darcy's expression. "do you fund many expeditions, or is this your first?"

[satellitewar-archived]

from @wovetales: you make it hard to focus. / milo for buzzy!

"is it my humming? i'll stop." buzzy zips his lip with two fingers, then tosses an invisible key over his shoulder. at once, he starts rocking back and forth on his heels, hands behind his back, not humming. milo is taking a very long time to solve the puzzle — which is fine, of course, if it were a casual thing in a garden somewhere or on someone's back porch with their grandmother — but this is life or death. this is they've been trapped, and the only way to escape is through this locked door, through this strange puzzle on the wall. milo took point, and now buzzy, with a strained expression on his face, braces for the worst.

"okay, can you or can you not solve it?" at last, buzzy breaks free of his silence to poke his head over milo's shoulder. "it's a nonogram. can you solve a nonogram?" he very much adores his friend and trusts him with his life (as anyone would), but there does come a point where the near-death experience outweighs any shred of kindness. "can i help? i won't hum. i swear. just — can i try? do you mind? or do you see that as an offense taking over of your territory and, subsequently, your manhood?"

[satellitewar-archived]

from @sarastuss: how did you find me ? / for buzzy! (okay get this, archeologist & a legendary/ethereal warrior core)

buzzy immediately scrambles to put his flashlight away. the light emanating from this woman in the dark, her stance ethereal, her presence, divine, is more than enough to illuminate the entire cavern tenfold, with no flashlight needed. "what are you?" a bit shaken by this monumental discovery, the explorer is forced to squint against her radiance, unable to comprehend the reality of his situation. he was just exploring. he said he'd go alone through the bits and pieces he and the rest of the team had already explored. they've already traipsed their way through this tunnel, marked important locations, and made a map of the extensive system of tunnels. he's been down here before, but never has buzzy seen a sight like this. where did she come from? who is she?

"were you hiding in one of the rooms we haven't opened?" buzzy vocalizes his theory to the bright space, to the woman standing there, blinking and glowing her way past his awkward squint. he shields his eyes, head tilting, and takes a tentative step closer to her to see what happens. "what's your name? maybe i should have asked that from the start." he's dumbfounded, but that's no excuse for bad manners. "fuck. shawky's not gonna believe this when i tell him." will anyone believe he just wandered down here in the dark and stumbled upon a living, breathing person in the temple? probably not.

[satellitewar-archived]

from @drewspawn: if you hadn't guessed, we're in a tight spot. - for buzzy!

"i'm working on it!" the strain in his voice is a clear indicator of how hard he's pushing on the door to keep it shut, fighting against the banging, the loud shouting, the repeated attempts to break it down. buzzy's clinging to hope as he presses all his weight into the door, eyes wide and frantic. he finds jess behind him, equally panicked, and starts motioning frantically with his head. "get something to put in front of the door! quick! i can't..." more banging. the shouts outside the door turn to curse words. "— i can't hold this much longer, jess, you need to... i don't know! do something!" surely there's got to be a piece of furniture they can use to block it off... buzzy's just not in a good place to go get it. if he moves, they get in. if they get in, they're done for.

"you're strong!" he asserts randomly, another chin-jut jessica's way. "drag one of those desks over here and throw it in front of the door. i can't — fuck!" one particularly painful shove nearly breaks the door in half, and buzzy recoils, but leaps back into place just in time to grab the door again. "we're running out of time!" his eyes are frantic. "are you armed? what do we..." buzzy's running out of energy. the shouts intensify. he locks eyes with his friend. "what do we do?"

[satellitewar-archived]

continuing from here, with @tragicale

they've ensconced themselves within a stranger's bedroom in the large estate, and while it's an odd place to meet, to hide from dizzying confrontation, it does its job fairly well. james conceals buzzy's presence within the room with a few awkward remarks about waiting for a lover, and now they're balancing against them. thank you for not saying anything, buzzy wants to repeat over and over as he loosens his tie, suddenly too tight at his neck. "that's emil carlsson," buzzy spits, giving james's face a quick once-over before he begins wandering the room. it's spacious, standard, nothing too ornate or overly sentimental. buzzy looks out the window and attempts to determine their position within the house. what do they overlook? is that the garden, or the front yard? "he's... an avid antiques collector," the archaeologist goes on, eyes still catapulting around the grass below. "violent sort, actually, though you'd never get that from the way he holds himself. he shot at me once. shot twice at shawky, too; he'll do just about anything to get what he wants, every artifact, every scrap of old coin, every precious metal and bone fragment. his men do nasty work on our dig sites and pull on the laws of the land to get them to bend for him. wants every glass case in house filled with artifacts. if he knew i was here..." back to james, back to where his friend lingers by the door and peers out. "well. you did me a favor, and i thank you. you're a good actor," he adds, patting his friend's shoulder with a wide smile. "should do that for a living." a joke. more smiling. buzzy, too, checks the hall. "yes, let's leave before he comes back. he really... really doesn't like me. and if he finds out you just hid me, he really won't like you, either."

[satellitewar-archived]

buzzy cohen & seth shawky, best friend archaeologists

[satellitewar-archived]

a message from @strnza: thank you for asking me to come along. (for buzzy!)

buzzy's enthusiasm is unmistakable, his smile, broad and full across his beaming face. every step he takes is a jump, a leap, a carefree, light-as-a-feather footstep on the way to his favorite place on earth. with eliza hooked on his arm, buzzy guides the musician up nine marble stairs and through the too-tall glass doors, pushing his way through and into the extravagant front hallway of the boston museum of fine art. there, he lets go of her arm, says hello to the security guard standing watch nearby, and points into the museum's cavernous rotunda. waving away eliza's thanks, buzzy nearly bounces out of his shoes as the anticipation starts to rise. "oh, it's no problem. no problem at all. i'm really glad you said yes." she was his first choice for a date to this event — especially with his mom on a trip to visit family in another state. eliza's more than a worthy substitute; she'll appreciate this just as much, if not more, that buzzy's mother would, and that's what buzzy needs tonight. he needs a pat on the back; he needs a hug and the praise that comes with this brand new exhibit, his own name on the wall. he's got shawky, of course, who's never shy at gifting compliments, but shawky's a staple in his life. eliza is new to him — she's a friend, not yet fully familiar with all of their work in the desert. kudos from her might mean more. it might feel better. it might make him happier than he's ever been.

"let me take your coat to coat check." buzzy waits for eliza's approval before he eases her jacket from her shoulders and folds it carefully over his left arm. "then we can... i think shawky said to meet him in the courtyard by the café." courtyard here just means a two-story, glass-encased room at the heart of the museum, crowded with tables and a towering fake plant that extends all the way up to the glass roof itself. "from there, we'll walk to the new exhibit." when buzzy returns from coat check, he's ditched his own jacket, as well — a fact that only makes the man a little jumpier. "ready to go?"