At this point, it’s hard not to take this whole world-hopping, time-bopping thing in stride but the unexpected thing here is that for the first time in a long time, there are no familiar faces from the get-go. None of the people he’d come to call family (though you’d never catch him saying that aloud) can be seen from where he’s standing, but that doesn’t really mean anything. It’s no reason to lose his shit. Not yet.
Rocket takes the opportunity instead to stretch his legs, readjusting the waistband of his uniform trousers (with the custom cut-out for his tail, of course), and strolls right on through to Libertas’ garden park memorial with nary a care for whatever responsibilities he may have been assigned at the barracks.
If someone tries to stop him, he’ll respond with a biting: ]
I was told people here were grateful I'm around. [ It's pretty clear he's only taking that at face value because gratitude is still something he’s learning to get used to; it shows up so infrequently. He crosses his arms, an ear twitching.
And don’t think the snatches of gossip he’s been hearing around town escape him, certain words seeming to draw a sense of stillness in him that feels too contemplative, too serious.
What he says, of course, doesn’t reflect whatever inner turmoil he might have. ] So what’s the deal with this thing?
[ He gestures to the memorial itself with a dark-black clawed finger. ]
goin’ up to the spirit in the sky ( free cities ) ;
[ You might catch a raccoon walking around, still in uniform, inspecting the parade of wagons with a very keen interest in the absolute nitty gritty, all the way down to the very last nut and the very last bolt. It might even be easy enough to mistake him for a judge, what with the way he’ll make an off-handedly snide remark about one wagon, and then marvel another with just a little less bite. ]
You know, I gotta give it to ‘em. That thing looks like a hunk of rolling trash parts but it’s not bad. Hope it wins.
[ He raps a knuckle against the side of a spectacularly bulbous engine, admittedly pleased with the hollow echo the sound produces and stretches his features into what can really only be described as a shit-eating grin. ]
Still. Give me an hour and I could do better.
laugh, laugh, laugh, i nearly died ( solvunn ) ;
[ It’s a little sobering to see something so grim and marked with violence in a pastoral place like this — but it’s good. It’s a good thing. Maybe this place reminds Rocket of some other life not lead, some alternate timeline (yeah he’s all about those these days) where he could have lived out the rest of his days doing dumb shit like gardening and farming and … you know, being blissfully happy.
But executions, violence, punishments and warnings … these are things that ground him back to reality. It makes the knitted wool feel less scratchy over his fur, though he’s admittedly a little overwarm right now. That's got nothing to do with the altar though. ]
Yeesh. [ He’s staring at the ashes on display, the ones of that former council member he’s never heard of. And sure, he could be a little more sensitive to something he has absolutely no knowledge about, keep his comments to himself, but Rocket likes to push buttons sometimes.
Okay, he likes to push buttons a lot of the time. He’s pushing one right now. Yep. Yep, we’re going for it. ] Guess it’s better than keeping a head on a spike, right? Less smell after a week in this sun.
wildcard ; [ ooc: canon point is just post-endgame for now while i de-rust my voice.
for now i’m just bopping between the free cities and solvunn but i’m down for any wildcard in any city while i try to figure out a good match. in between wandering around, in the free cities rocket can also be found doing a little training (imagine a raccoon flipping around, doing a little target practice, keeping his claws sharp, you know normal stuff); and daring someone to come along with him into the badlands.
in solvunn, rocket can also be found pigging out on free food at the picnic, and scoffing at all the lovey-dovey love matches and marriages, and maybe burying fully-grown radishes in the wrong plots of some unsuspecting farmer’s garden because that’s just hilarious.
the world is our oyster so if the above prompts don’t jive, feel free to leave something below or shoot me a PM! ]
rocket | mcu — free cities, solvunn — no arcana yet
[ Here we go again, right?
At this point, it’s hard not to take this whole world-hopping, time-bopping thing in stride but the unexpected thing here is that for the first time in a long time, there are no familiar faces from the get-go. None of the people he’d come to call family (though you’d never catch him saying that aloud) can be seen from where he’s standing, but that doesn’t really mean anything. It’s no reason to lose his shit. Not yet.
Rocket takes the opportunity instead to stretch his legs, readjusting the waistband of his uniform trousers (with the custom cut-out for his tail, of course), and strolls right on through to Libertas’ garden park memorial with nary a care for whatever responsibilities he may have been assigned at the barracks.
If someone tries to stop him, he’ll respond with a biting: ]
I was told people here were grateful I'm around. [ It's pretty clear he's only taking that at face value because gratitude is still something he’s learning to get used to; it shows up so infrequently. He crosses his arms, an ear twitching.
And don’t think the snatches of gossip he’s been hearing around town escape him, certain words seeming to draw a sense of stillness in him that feels too contemplative, too serious.
What he says, of course, doesn’t reflect whatever inner turmoil he might have. ] So what’s the deal with this thing?
[ He gestures to the memorial itself with a dark-black clawed finger. ]
goin’ up to the spirit in the sky ( free cities ) ;
[ You might catch a raccoon walking around, still in uniform, inspecting the parade of wagons with a very keen interest in the absolute nitty gritty, all the way down to the very last nut and the very last bolt. It might even be easy enough to mistake him for a judge, what with the way he’ll make an off-handedly snide remark about one wagon, and then marvel another with just a little less bite. ]
You know, I gotta give it to ‘em. That thing looks like a hunk of rolling trash parts but it’s not bad. Hope it wins.
[ He raps a knuckle against the side of a spectacularly bulbous engine, admittedly pleased with the hollow echo the sound produces and stretches his features into what can really only be described as a shit-eating grin. ]
Still. Give me an hour and I could do better.
laugh, laugh, laugh, i nearly died ( solvunn ) ;
[ It’s a little sobering to see something so grim and marked with violence in a pastoral place like this — but it’s good. It’s a good thing. Maybe this place reminds Rocket of some other life not lead, some alternate timeline (yeah he’s all about those these days) where he could have lived out the rest of his days doing dumb shit like gardening and farming and … you know, being blissfully happy.
But executions, violence, punishments and warnings … these are things that ground him back to reality. It makes the knitted wool feel less scratchy over his fur, though he’s admittedly a little overwarm right now. That's got nothing to do with the altar though. ]
Yeesh. [ He’s staring at the ashes on display, the ones of that former council member he’s never heard of. And sure, he could be a little more sensitive to something he has absolutely no knowledge about, keep his comments to himself, but Rocket likes to push buttons sometimes.
Okay, he likes to push buttons a lot of the time. He’s pushing one right now. Yep. Yep, we’re going for it. ] Guess it’s better than keeping a head on a spike, right? Less smell after a week in this sun.
wildcard ;
[ ooc: canon point is just post-endgame for now while i de-rust my voice.
for now i’m just bopping between the free cities and solvunn but i’m down for any wildcard in any city while i try to figure out a good match. in between wandering around, in the free cities rocket can also be found doing a little training (imagine a raccoon flipping around, doing a little target practice, keeping his claws sharp, you know normal stuff); and daring someone to come along with him into the badlands.
in solvunn, rocket can also be found pigging out on free food at the picnic, and scoffing at all the lovey-dovey love matches and marriages, and maybe burying fully-grown radishes in the wrong plots of some unsuspecting farmer’s garden because that’s just hilarious.
the world is our oyster so if the above prompts don’t jive, feel free to leave something below or shoot me a PM! ]