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[spaceracist]

[Well, this has been a hell of a day...couple of days? Emile's not entirely sure, since his mission clock isn't synching with anything. He's completely out of his element here, especially after the little white fuzzy bastards put him in some kind of stasis a couple times. The idea of those things controlling everything here--which they clearly do--isn't comforting in the least to him. He's also not entirely sure what to make of this little snake...thing that he supposedly "made" from those weird pieces.

At least there was something to fight here, and a few battles with Nightmares had done a lot to calm him down. So now he was poking around with the communicator, and wonder of wonders there do in fact seem to be other people here. Might as well see what kind of afterlife he's landed in.

The video clicks on to show armor that might be familiar to anyone who's been paying attention to the Freelancers, but there's a very distinctive skull pattern carved into the domes gold surface of his smooth EVA helmet.]

This is Noble-Four requesting contact from any UNSC-friendly forces in the area. This don't make any goddamn sense.

--And are those little white bastards shitting me or is it really called "munny"?

Comments

[colorbymemory]

[Namine's not too good with social constructs herself, nor would she consider herself nice. Maybe they'll get along after all.

If he can say he's not cruel for no reason, then he has a leg up on some others she knows.]

I think so. [She nods as she makes mental note of the name.] My name is Namine.

[spaceracist]

Emile. [Congratulations, you're the first person he's...actually said that to. Not sure why. Possibly because kid.]

Where you from, Namine?

[colorbymemory]

[Being a young girl who looks fairly harmless tends to earn Namine a certain level of trust. She doesn't intend to take that lightly.]

Nice to meet you, Emile. I was staying in Twilight Town before I came here. How about you?

[spaceracist]

[That's kind of a trick question. Emile hesitates briefly.]

A place that ain't around no more. After that, world called Onyx.

[colorbymemory]

['Home' is a tricky question for some of them.]

I see. Have you found any of your friends here yet?

[spaceracist]

[There's a pause.]

They ain't around no more, either.

[colorbymemory]

Oh! I'm sorry.

[Namine hadn't thought she'd be bringing up anything painful as that, though he's obviously a soldier, and she knew sometimes people didn't come home...]

[spaceracist]

[Emile shrugs. It's still recent enough to hurt, badly, but he's been dealing with it in his own way.]

It happens. But there's people here, ain't there? Somethin' to start with, anyway.

[colorbymemory]

[Namine nods.]

If you need anything, you can use the communicator to ask. Like I said, most everyone here is friendly; they'll help.

[spaceracist]

Appreciate it. And you get in over your head with these Nightmares, you let me know. Combat specialist.

[He wouldn't want to get twitchy from not fighting enough, after all.]

[colorbymemory]

Thank you, I will.

[She's doing better handling them on her own these days, but you never know. The more help, the better.]