[ though the guards that dragged roy from the van gave him orders that would have him weeding and vegetable tending all day, they did not think to tell him to do it quietly. ]
I've been waiting for Harvest Moon to go dystopian future for years, but I thought there'd be more robot chickens by now.
[ roy's lucky enough to have woken with a shaggier head of hair than most, but it's nothing like the shoulder length shock of ginger hair he used to sport. even short, between the flash of red, the freckles, and the none stop yammering, he's hard to miss as he turns from the stranger on his left to the stranger on his right to continue his one sided conversation. ]
But hey, at least it's not Soylent Green is People, right? [ whoever he's talking to doesn't seem to be catching on to any of his references here, and roy sighs, looking a little deflated. ] No? Okay.
[ he'll just go back to minding his own garden business. and feeling extremely uneasy the fact he's been mind-controlled into community service in an alternate dimension. ]
safehouse;
[ after sleeping off the effects of the drugs for a few hours, roy wakes at some early hour of the next day. he slinks from his cot and sets to inspecting every last inch of the safehouse, nearly silently (there might be a metal click here or there when he checks to see if a door is locked). roy will be at it for a couple hours, and once he's satisfied there's no currently available escape route, he shuffles back to bed. anyone roy spots awake and watching while he goes about his business gets a sleepy half smile, a wave, and a single finger lifted to his lips - shh.
roy isn't awake again until past noon the next day, then spends the two or three hours after waking, lying sprawled across his cot, pillow folded up over his arms and head flopped to the side on top of it, looking barely conscious half the time. there's one socked foot bent up in the air, slowly penduluming from one side to the other, looking like a bored cat's tail.
really, he's eavesdropping, listening in on conversations and questions going on inside the safehouse from where he is, observing people, watching, trying to piece this puzzle together in his head. but that doesn't require a whole lot of moving around right now, and roy feels like he's generally more approachable as a burnout than a Hero Guy. the important parts of the latter can be performed without exiting the state of the former.
eventually, once conversation has come to a lull and activity has died down, and they've all realized they're going to be locked in here together for the next 4 freaking days, roy pipes up in the relative quiet. ]
I spy... something grey.
[ almost everything inside this creepy warehouse is some shade of grey. ]
wildcard;
[ hit me with whatever, i'll roll with it! if you want to plot something, you can reach me at wuzzafuzzle ]
Roy Harper | DC Comics | OTA
[ though the guards that dragged roy from the van gave him orders that would have him weeding and vegetable tending all day, they did not think to tell him to do it quietly. ]
I've been waiting for Harvest Moon to go dystopian future for years, but I thought there'd be more robot chickens by now.
[ roy's lucky enough to have woken with a shaggier head of hair than most, but it's nothing like the shoulder length shock of ginger hair he used to sport. even short, between the flash of red, the freckles, and the none stop yammering, he's hard to miss as he turns from the stranger on his left to the stranger on his right to continue his one sided conversation. ]
But hey, at least it's not Soylent Green is People, right? [ whoever he's talking to doesn't seem to be catching on to any of his references here, and roy sighs, looking a little deflated. ] No? Okay.
[ he'll just go back to minding his own garden business. and feeling extremely uneasy the fact he's been mind-controlled into community service in an alternate dimension. ]
safehouse;
[ after sleeping off the effects of the drugs for a few hours, roy wakes at some early hour of the next day. he slinks from his cot and sets to inspecting every last inch of the safehouse, nearly silently (there might be a metal click here or there when he checks to see if a door is locked). roy will be at it for a couple hours, and once he's satisfied there's no currently available escape route, he shuffles back to bed. anyone roy spots awake and watching while he goes about his business gets a sleepy half smile, a wave, and a single finger lifted to his lips - shh.
roy isn't awake again until past noon the next day, then spends the two or three hours after waking, lying sprawled across his cot, pillow folded up over his arms and head flopped to the side on top of it, looking barely conscious half the time. there's one socked foot bent up in the air, slowly penduluming from one side to the other, looking like a bored cat's tail.
really, he's eavesdropping, listening in on conversations and questions going on inside the safehouse from where he is, observing people, watching, trying to piece this puzzle together in his head. but that doesn't require a whole lot of moving around right now, and roy feels like he's generally more approachable as a burnout than a Hero Guy. the important parts of the latter can be performed without exiting the state of the former.
eventually, once conversation has come to a lull and activity has died down, and they've all realized they're going to be locked in here together for the next 4 freaking days, roy pipes up in the relative quiet. ]
I spy... something grey.
[ almost everything inside this creepy warehouse is some shade of grey. ]
wildcard;
[ hit me with whatever, i'll roll with it! if you want to plot something, you can reach me at