nomoneystillproblems | call me maybe

[If he didn't know he was from Japan he might spare a moment to be stunned that he's taller than another boy for a change.

The carrot orange hair though, that's different. And also seemingly not a dye job. All in all there's something squirrelish about the kid's unruly hair and wide eyes: if Hinata wasn't the very definition of bright eyed and bushy tailed he'd eat his hat.

Not the frog one.]

Yeah. Peter. [Or should he specify that he's Thing 1 and not his taller, more benevolent counterpart? Ugh. You know what, no, unless Hinata drags that up he's not going to address it. They have bigger fish to fry.]

You were saying about a death-and-resurrection assignment?

[R.I.P., frog hat.]

It happened... a week or two after I arrived? [from silence in the camp to the deadened silence of near a quarter of the crew missing. it'd been a wake up call, alright.] Blue team members were ordered to select those they trusted the most. Then it was, what was it-- either they killed the person they selected, or the person they picked had to kill them.

[the point being obvious now, however reluctant one may be to accept it.]

The people that died woke up completely fine two Ajna days later. No one expected it; the instructors didn't tell us anything. It was meant as... you know, a lesson.

[Kill or be killed. How...incredibly tacky of them. Peter's expression sours at the description, the dip between his brows turning as stern as a court judge.]

Some "lesson." [He folds his arms, thoughtful.] Did they still have traces of their wounds? Did they have any birthmarks or freckles that were absent, or in different places? Maybe they found a way to fix that, but cloning back home wasn't perfect. Things like that still got randomized, even if they had the exact same DNA.

Edited 2015-03-14 14:09 (UTC)

[head bows, raises, turns to the left and up -- eyes roving over ceiling and wall, all better a place to stall upon than the look on Peter's face. people had been upset on Ajna, the order's effects long-lasting and far-reaching, but as far as he knew, no one had outright fought against it.]

[for the better, wasn't it?]

[...]

[debatable. he'd maintain it was their most pointless, wasteful order to date.]

I don't know about wounds. [but Jean and Noh-Varr from before and after--] I didn't know many people then, and no one had any cameras. But as far as I know, everything's remained the same. Nobody said anything about physically changing.

Then it's still up in the air, huh?

[Peter presses a hand to his mouth. Thoughtful. Then it drifts, grips his side.

The only scar he still has. The hole where the bullet went through. It's fading now, like all his other marks had. Something to do with having a body juiced up by OZ serum, no doubt, but it's creeping him out that he had the scar at all. If they cloned did they carve it into him for realism's sake?

God.]

Look. I don't think we can say anything's for sure. Even with deaths and resurrections and whatnot, because it's just...when we're dealing with a scope that's this broad? Like I don't understand half the crap that's going on with other people's worlds. And magic is definitely a real thing, even back home. Who's to say we're not getting hocus-pocused back to life every time we bite it? There's so much we don't understand, I just don't know where to even start.

[Peter sighs, pinching the bridge of his nose.] I feel like a cave man trying to solve a mystery in the twenty first century.

call me maybe

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