savetheearth | [Computer, Audio Only]

Well, this damn sure isn't what I expected when I decided to move back here.

[The new voice on the network is definitely an adult male, but the accent that comes with it is a little unusual - definitely mostly American, but with slightly rounder sounds and letters that are sometimes more and sometimes less distinct than is found in a typical American accent, of any region of the country. The speaker also sounds more resigned and slightly irritated than shocked or scared.]

Locke's been showing up more and more on the national news over the past few months, but it's all been about things like bizarre animal attacks, people dumping toxins in the water, and all the shit that's been going on in the Dead District. Now people're adding conspiracies and talking animals and maybe mind control along with who knows what else to the mix and what're we supposed to do about it? How do you keep the people around you from getting involved in this crap and maybe getting hurt by it?

[There's a fairly long but low groan, mostly under his breath.]

I think I need a drink.

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

[and only maybe fifteen minutes later, Hjalti's doorbell rings. It's a stab in the dark, really, but he didn't quite think of the possibility that his brother might not be at the address that he has of him, and if he isn't he'll have to actually call him.

But he's always much preferred to not have a phoneline or similar between himself and others when important matters were at hand.]

[When the doorbell rings, Hjalti ditches the laptop on the couch and goes to check who it is through the peephole. He walks quietly so that if he doesn't want to talk to whoever's on the other side, they won't know he's there - but that turns out to be a foolish precaution. It's his brother, and really, he's not surprised that this happened.]

[Thorir might hear a fairly deep sigh from his side of the door and a small thunk as Hjalti lets his head hit the door, but he's taking off the chain and turning the look so he can open the door. He's already heard from Killian who all's on this thing, so he doesn't bother with trying to pretend this is anything else.]

You heard.

Can I come in?

[He won't have this conversation out in the corridor where people might here. Because it would be dangerous, mostly, but also because important talks should not be held where anyone could be accidentally eavesdropping.

It's fairly obvious from his grim expression that he is not happy about the situation.]

Yeah, come on. Want anything to drink? [He's seriously thinking about a whiskey himself. One of the habits he picked up in Ireland that stuck.]

[Hjalti's apartment isn't really decorated, with things on the walls and little knick-knacks everywhere; moving around a lot tends to make you cut down on stuff to haul. And with the exception of the big pieces of furniture (the sofa, the bed in his bedroom) and the few electronic things he has, everything looks handmade because it is handmade. It was cheaper for him to just build things like his coffee table and the one bookcase he has than buy already-constructed ones that would hold up over time. It gives a strange feel to the apartment, like it's not finished being built yet.]

Killian told me - you, and Fil, and a couple friends of yours.

[He shakes his head at the question - he feels like he wants a drink, but he also wants a clear head for this, so, later - and wanders a few feet into the room before he stops and turns towards his brother again.]

Too many. There is Gabriel, Eliot, John ...and friends of the children as well. Gerald, Julien, Shou, and there might be more that I'm simply not aware of yet. [He breathes. Frustrated.] And now you.

Isn't Gabriel that friend of yours from London? [He was young at the time, but he'd spent enough time in the company of that man that he can vaguely remember him.] Who're the rest of them, though, anyone I should know?

[Well, he's going to have that drink. He keeps the liquor in the kitchen, since he never got around to building a mini-bar, and he pulls a tumbler out of a cupboard and find the bottle of whiskey he'd picked up a few days before but had yet to open. That's quickly solved, but the drink he pours isn't that large, considering - he wants to keep his head on straight now, too.]

Nothing happened the last year, even hearing about all the weird crap that was going on here. Then I come back to the smithy, and... [He makes a vague motion with the hand not holding the tumbler, and shakes his head.] We had other things to worry about that day or I might've said something then.

You'll probably be able to recognize him much more easily than you should. [He'll find himself a chair and sit down for the moment while Hjalti is in the kitchen.

It's not a position of getting comfortable, though, leaning forward with his lower arms on his thighs and his hands touching each other somewhere between his knees.]

How much have you been told, yet?

[And then they can get on what his brother experienced there. For now, he'll just note down with a pleased notion that Hjalti "might have said something then". He doesn't want to have to have conversations about the worth of telling family - mostly because they leave him with the worry that his arguments might have hit deaf ears.]

[He's going to give his brother a slighty weirded-out look over the glass at that comment about Gabriel.] I know you models tend to age well but that doesn't sound like that. What's happened to him?

[Hjalti stays in the kitchen, since it's one of those not-quite-a-rooms that's connected to the living room and only separated by a breakfast bar. His focus is on Thorir pretty closely, his eyes slightly narrowed. Not a habit he had when he was younger.]

Enough. Killian's on it, so are you, Fil, and Gabriel and Eliot. Killian triggered something else, so it sounds like whatever you guys were doing, I was doing it with you.

[A habit that is noticed and tentatively disliked (mostly because of why it might have become one), but that won't be commented on - it's not like there is a good thing to say towards it, anyway.]

He's getting younger, or at least his body is. He doesn't know when it will stop, but he's lost at least ten years by now.

[The close watching is returned, and Thorir's expression sharpens when Hjalti mentions what he'll just interpret as a pulse caused by himself.] With a group of people that were roughly your height or shorter? [Sure, they must have done more things in their lives, but a few things that seem like childhood memories aside, the shared memories of actual events that binds together uncle, nephews but also Eliot and Gabriel and, apparently, even Teagan... They seem to have been connected through that group.]

[Computer, Audio Only]

but the action is here!

yay so much action!

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject