tony stark. (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
propulsion) wrote2014-01-11 04:33 pm
propulsion) wrote2014-01-11 04:33 pm
fade rift. inbox.
"You have reached the life model decoy of Tony Stark."
sending crystal
written correspondence
private scenes
"You have reached the life model decoy of Tony Stark."
sending crystal
written correspondence
private scenes
Rhodes-Potts. Of the Hoboken Rhodes-Potts.
And. Huh?
And. Huh?
Before I shift procedure and disappoint our local drunks, is there any shorter version of your name?
[ for the report he's filing slash potential blame game ]
[ for the report he's filing slash potential blame game ]
[ Scrawled out hastily because she's actually still in the middle of the conversation.]
We have a microscope
We have a microscope
[ It's been somewhere around a week, maybe week and a half, since Athessa came down with the grippe and she's officially on the mend even if her voice isn't quite all there yet. It's a little squeaky, a little hoarse, a little little and fades out over the course of conversation but she's sick of using the book to communicate! ]
I have an earnest question and I would appreciate that if it's a dumb one, you at least turn off the crystal before you laugh.
[ She's not going to delude herself into thinking she can prevent anyone from laughing at a stupid question. ]
What the fuck does Schn-oo-kums mean?
I have an earnest question and I would appreciate that if it's a dumb one, you at least turn off the crystal before you laugh.
[ She's not going to delude herself into thinking she can prevent anyone from laughing at a stupid question. ]
What the fuck does Schn-oo-kums mean?
Uhhh. Well the ringing in my ears has faded to a quiet whine, so had to be at least a couple days.
[ Slight gear shift as he actually registers the question-- ]
Why? She okay?
[ Slight gear shift as he actually registers the question-- ]
Why? She okay?
[ He hears the office he's looking for well before he sees it. The noise claws its way all the way back to the stairwell, that uniquely awful yowl of wood-on-wood as it's dragged, constantly flipping between low-pitched groans and shrill scratches. It's helped along by the fact that the heavy door to the Felandris project office is propped open.
Fitz, dressed in slightly more leather than he'd been back at the rift and looking about 99% more local, pauses just outside of it. But the one plus to the noise is that it makes it difficult to overthink (or think at all), and he only lingers for a moment before leaning in to knock on the door. ]
Mr. Stark?
Fitz, dressed in slightly more leather than he'd been back at the rift and looking about 99% more local, pauses just outside of it. But the one plus to the noise is that it makes it difficult to overthink (or think at all), and he only lingers for a moment before leaning in to knock on the door. ]
Mr. Stark?
[ Mr. Stark is currently dragging a desk around from the single window in the room after having determined a couple times that lifting it wasn't gonna happen. It's a big desk, and how they got it up all these friggin' stairs is anyone's guess. Well, no, it was probably magic. ]
Hey, [ he says, sparing a glance. ] Help me out, would ya. You get that end.
[ As he is most days, Tony is likewise 99% local, something still anachronistic in the way he styles himself, even the way he moves, somehow. But he's in shades of grey, shirt sleeves rolled, and from the centre of his chest, there's a dull blue glow that snags and emanates through cotton. ]
At an angle, opposite the door. I'll say when.
Hey, [ he says, sparing a glance. ] Help me out, would ya. You get that end.
[ As he is most days, Tony is likewise 99% local, something still anachronistic in the way he styles himself, even the way he moves, somehow. But he's in shades of grey, shirt sleeves rolled, and from the centre of his chest, there's a dull blue glow that snags and emanates through cotton. ]
At an angle, opposite the door. I'll say when.
Mister Stark? My name is Miles, I'm one of the more recent arrivals here via those charming green tears in spacetime. Julius told me you were the man to talk to about technology. Pioneering it, that is.
That's me, the man.
Welcome to the olden days, here be dragons. What can you do for me?
[ --in the same cadence as the more expected 'what can I do for you?' ]
Welcome to the olden days, here be dragons. What can you do for me?
[ --in the same cadence as the more expected 'what can I do for you?' ]
[ What time is it? Fitz isn't paying attention, but you can bet it's a bad time for a phone call (for normal people who sleep, anyway). ]
Okay, [ He starts, in that uncertain tone of someone who's only halfway processed the thoughts they're working on spitting out. ] What if none of this is real. Not as in we're all dead or dreaming or whatever, but it's — it's just VR. An advanced simulation.
[ A weird spiral to be having several months into the game? Maybe. ]
Okay, [ He starts, in that uncertain tone of someone who's only halfway processed the thoughts they're working on spitting out. ] What if none of this is real. Not as in we're all dead or dreaming or whatever, but it's — it's just VR. An advanced simulation.
[ A weird spiral to be having several months into the game? Maybe. ]
Okay.
[ Tony responds immediately enough to indicate that he was himself not sleeping like a normal person, but that doesn't mean he isn't tired. ]
Well thank you, first of all, for inviting me within the parameters of your solipsism. It's an honour. How does Poppell or other transdimensional Rifters figure into your theory?
[ Tony responds immediately enough to indicate that he was himself not sleeping like a normal person, but that doesn't mean he isn't tired. ]
Well thank you, first of all, for inviting me within the parameters of your solipsism. It's an honour. How does Poppell or other transdimensional Rifters figure into your theory?
[Introductions are for punks.]
When we last spoke-- some time ago, so you would be forgiven for forgetting-- you mentioned a desire for a layman's guide to Thedas, written for the benefit of other Rifters.
When we last spoke-- some time ago, so you would be forgiven for forgetting-- you mentioned a desire for a layman's guide to Thedas, written for the benefit of other Rifters.
Did I?
[ When a surprise comes over the crystal, you can be surprised about it on your own time. Tony replies like they talked just the other week. ]
Thoughtful, resourceful, ambitious -- sure, sounds like me. Don't think it left the ground.
[ When a surprise comes over the crystal, you can be surprised about it on your own time. Tony replies like they talked just the other week. ]
Thoughtful, resourceful, ambitious -- sure, sounds like me. Don't think it left the ground.
Please consider adding vital scientific research as you see fit.
[And then he copies this in full.]
[This is written so Tony can't hear him laughing.]
[And then he copies this in full.]
[This is written so Tony can't hear him laughing.]
The latest crop (quite literal) of University essays arrived this morning from Markham. Food production is of vital import to the war effort — as another year of disrupted harvests underscore — but the reams of dry parchment contain even drier language; as if some terrible meta-textual commentary on drought.
Somehow they've even made weevils boring. Weevils!
"If we ate the pages," He's been staring at the same spot for the past ten minutes. "Do you think we could call it an experiment?"
Somehow they've even made weevils boring. Weevils!
"If we ate the pages," He's been staring at the same spot for the past ten minutes. "Do you think we could call it an experiment?"
[At some point in the middle of filing paperwork in the Felandaris office (despite the fact that she is emphatically and obviously not a member of the project, merely an occasional contributor), Wysteria pauses, removes her arms from the filing drawer she's folded herself down beside and pivots toward Tony on the points of her boot heels. They're invisible under her skirts, and so the full effect of the motion draws some faint resemblance to a slowly spinning top or a small automated toy dog on the verge of yip-yip-yip-ing before performing a backflip.]
You recall Enchanter Averesch, do you not? Specifically, how he summoned those little spirits from the Fade while we were all down in the ruin.
You recall Enchanter Averesch, do you not? Specifically, how he summoned those little spirits from the Fade while we were all down in the ruin.
Puffballs. Is the technical term.
[ According to an annoying teenager, anyway. Tony doesn't look up from his own work, registering the clean pivot out the corner of his eye without blinking it. ]
[ According to an annoying teenager, anyway. Tony doesn't look up from his own work, registering the clean pivot out the corner of his eye without blinking it. ]
'Kay, but I get a free elf question if you do.
who told
[ Probably Jos. Right? Girls he knows shouldn't be friends. ]
[ Probably Jos. Right? Girls he knows shouldn't be friends. ]
[ She'll start with his room and move on from there. Having spent the better part of her life among Carta enforcers and thugs, she doesn't bother with stealth or subtlety. She lifts a stool and starts slamming it against the door until something gives or someone shows up to stop her. ]
[ The door swings open. Her stool is already in swoop down momentum, Tony barely catching it at the edge with a— ]
Hey now.
[ —and a defensive, slightly delayed raise of a knee. ]
I need those to live. What the hell are you doing?
[ He looks better, anyway. Younger, too, and decently fed, with appropriate muscle mass filling out his shirt shoulders, complexion healthy. Healthy enough. It's winter, who couldn't use a little of that D. ]
Hey now.
[ —and a defensive, slightly delayed raise of a knee. ]
I need those to live. What the hell are you doing?
[ He looks better, anyway. Younger, too, and decently fed, with appropriate muscle mass filling out his shirt shoulders, complexion healthy. Healthy enough. It's winter, who couldn't use a little of that D. ]
Hey, Stark.
How're you with magic radar, or is that something you need a hand with?
[Amos speaks without pride or ego; his voice is calm the the point of being near expressionless.]
How're you with magic radar, or is that something you need a hand with?
[Amos speaks without pride or ego; his voice is calm the the point of being near expressionless.]
Edited 2021-02-05 18:02 (UTC)
Hello.
I am wanting for you to make for me a glove to be doing party tricks with. I have decided this.
I am wanting for you to make for me a glove to be doing party tricks with. I have decided this.
[A number of hours removed from The Incident, not because she is avoiding the subject but because she is being considerate and because it isn't a big deal or anything—]
Mister Stark, I have some notes we should review together when your schedule will allow.
Mister Stark, I have some notes we should review together when your schedule will allow.
Hey.
[ He sounds very awake, pitching that greeting across the crystals without properly registering what she said. ]
Hi. You wanna compare?
[ He sounds very awake, pitching that greeting across the crystals without properly registering what she said. ]
Hi. You wanna compare?
( tony isn't in his room when joselyn gets there, but it also isn't locked to keep her out so—this is only a temporary obstacle. presumably he has to come back to it at some point, and she figures she won't be the only person that's going to have kind of an unproductive day immediately following the dreams that they all shared.
there's—
they were a lot. both dreams, actually. she isn't completely sure what the logic was behind bringing her satchel with her—what she'd imagined she'd find, when probably he woke up just the same as she did—but she sets it down, and looks around. tony isn't here, and she doesn't know how long he'll be gone, so
the trunk is locked, but she already knows what's in it. she looks at his papers, next, but most of them are unreadable; she is diverted by it briefly all the same, skimming to see if he's sketched anything that she might recognize, giving up when there's just only so long you can stare aimlessly at foreign words until it's clear they're definitely not going to spontaneously become comprehensible. the wind-up light that seems to her eye vaguely dwarfish (whether that's because it is or because she just associates things of its nature with dwarves before anyone else: debatable) occupies her for probably longer than she'll admit to tony, later, but by the time he does return she's sat down at his table and is writing a letter on some of his blank pages.
she leaves out the dreams. the reason why she's just thinking of you all this morning. they hadn't really been there, she knows; too far away for the magic to have drawn them in, they must have been...constructs, spirits. but it's been a long time since she saw the children, and what a reminder of how fucking fragile everything is. )
there's—
they were a lot. both dreams, actually. she isn't completely sure what the logic was behind bringing her satchel with her—what she'd imagined she'd find, when probably he woke up just the same as she did—but she sets it down, and looks around. tony isn't here, and she doesn't know how long he'll be gone, so
the trunk is locked, but she already knows what's in it. she looks at his papers, next, but most of them are unreadable; she is diverted by it briefly all the same, skimming to see if he's sketched anything that she might recognize, giving up when there's just only so long you can stare aimlessly at foreign words until it's clear they're definitely not going to spontaneously become comprehensible. the wind-up light that seems to her eye vaguely dwarfish (whether that's because it is or because she just associates things of its nature with dwarves before anyone else: debatable) occupies her for probably longer than she'll admit to tony, later, but by the time he does return she's sat down at his table and is writing a letter on some of his blank pages.
she leaves out the dreams. the reason why she's just thinking of you all this morning. they hadn't really been there, she knows; too far away for the magic to have drawn them in, they must have been...constructs, spirits. but it's been a long time since she saw the children, and what a reminder of how fucking fragile everything is. )
[ The door swings open with the confidence of someone expecting an empty room.
And when he does not experience one, Tony freezes in the doorway, and then unfreezes, stepping more deliberately inside and closing the door with his back to it. He looks—
He looks well, just as she remembers. Less grey in his hair, for one, more meat on the bones, vitality in his—I don't know, teeth, whatever. He also looks a little like he just rolled out of bed, hair wilder and hair grain grown in around goatee, clothing basic and a little rumpled.
Under an arm is a leather-bound folder, of kinds, barely containing pages. ]
You touching my stuff, Smythe?
And when he does not experience one, Tony freezes in the doorway, and then unfreezes, stepping more deliberately inside and closing the door with his back to it. He looks—
He looks well, just as she remembers. Less grey in his hair, for one, more meat on the bones, vitality in his—I don't know, teeth, whatever. He also looks a little like he just rolled out of bed, hair wilder and hair grain grown in around goatee, clothing basic and a little rumpled.
Under an arm is a leather-bound folder, of kinds, barely containing pages. ]
You touching my stuff, Smythe?
Edited 2021-02-27 03:55 (UTC)
Does Tony have a little workstation in the Research offices? Hope so, because John is occupying it when he arrives.
"I've a question for you, if you'll entertain me for a few moments."
No, it's not about the beard oil from Satinalia before last.
"I've a question for you, if you'll entertain me for a few moments."
No, it's not about the beard oil from Satinalia before last.
The Felandaris office is easily identifiable, kept with surprising orderliness for anyone who might be familiar with the sheer chaotic energy of the person who works here.
Tony pauses on his way in, squinting at Silver, before continuing his trajectory to his desk. His hands have mail in them.
"Try leaving it in over night," he says, because obviously it's about the beard oil. "You'll be in goose down city in no time."
Tony pauses on his way in, squinting at Silver, before continuing his trajectory to his desk. His hands have mail in them.
"Try leaving it in over night," he says, because obviously it's about the beard oil. "You'll be in goose down city in no time."
[Whenever he actually makes his move into the division office, at some point a dorky and much dented kettle helm appears on his newly inherited desk. The note attached to it reads--]
Provost Stark,
I will grudgingly allow that there are very few individuals who I can think of as more qualified for this position, though I would advise that you not allow either the compliment or the role to go to your head. If I am confident in your abilities, then I am equally sure that I could easily enlist a sturdy arm to strike some sense back into you if pressed.
Respectfully and/or Best Wishes,
W.A. Poppell
He considers, eventually, that Miriam had had a point. And maybe it's because he remembers a lyrium-glow from Tony — or dreamt one, anyway — that he chooses him for this conversation. Or maybe just that it'll just be easier to explain to someone familiar with, like, electricity.
Regardless — Jim stops by his office space, with a brief knock at the door to announce his presence.
"You busy?"
Regardless — Jim stops by his office space, with a brief knock at the door to announce his presence.
"You busy?"
Edited (waIT i changed my mind) 2021-04-14 22:34 (UTC)
"Yeah."
—is not encouraging, but also, the door is partially ajar. Sunlight comes through tall windows. The large, heavyset desk that Tony had to pick out himself and have moved all the way up here is covered in books and paperwork, and there's some furniture for comfortable seating that has been dragged aside.
Tony is cross legged on the floor, surrounded by thin sheets of parchment, protected from the floor with wooden boards. Measuring tools and various drawing implements are scattered around him. He doesn't immediately look up as he finishes tracing out a curved line. Next to him is a heavy leather book, huge, laid open with some weights holding it as such, one he keeps referring to as he draws.
"Come in," is the follow up. Save him.
—is not encouraging, but also, the door is partially ajar. Sunlight comes through tall windows. The large, heavyset desk that Tony had to pick out himself and have moved all the way up here is covered in books and paperwork, and there's some furniture for comfortable seating that has been dragged aside.
Tony is cross legged on the floor, surrounded by thin sheets of parchment, protected from the floor with wooden boards. Measuring tools and various drawing implements are scattered around him. He doesn't immediately look up as he finishes tracing out a curved line. Next to him is a heavy leather book, huge, laid open with some weights holding it as such, one he keeps referring to as he draws.
"Come in," is the follow up. Save him.
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