wнen тнe мoυnтaιn тoυcнeѕ тнe valley. (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
midvalley) wrote in ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png)
pullmeoutalive2014-06-27 11:45 pm
midvalley) wrote in pullmeoutalive2014-06-27 11:45 pm
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You think they can handle her? Chances are pretty high that she'll attack someone.
At best? She won't. I think she can tell we're related.
At worst, she mauls someone and they call her a spirited warrior, and opt to give her a wider berth.
At worst, she mauls someone and they call her a spirited warrior, and opt to give her a wider berth.
[ He offers a longish pause and a slightly wary look. ]
...That's. An interesting place you come from.
...That's. An interesting place you come from.
You have to understand, my kind treat the Old Ones as deities. To actually come face-to-face with one... they'd treat her with great care and respect, but they would also not forget that she needs space. That she needs to hunt and to run, and to defend herself if necessary.
She is what we were, and Raptori don't forget that.
She is what we were, and Raptori don't forget that.
[ Another pause, but a considering one, rather than a bemused one. At length, he offers a nod, though given reluctantly. The guy could very well be talking out of his ass, but Owen doesn't get that sense -- and he typically imagines himself to be a good judge of character. ]
Granted, this all depends on us actually being able to track her, avoid detection from InGen, and managing to get the both of you some place safe enough for your-- [ He waves a hand vaguely. ] --God. Friend. Boss. Whatever. To zap you back.
Granted, this all depends on us actually being able to track her, avoid detection from InGen, and managing to get the both of you some place safe enough for your-- [ He waves a hand vaguely. ] --God. Friend. Boss. Whatever. To zap you back.
[ Dorian waves a hand. ]
Perhaps our dragons are merely your dragons' oft-ignored inbred cousins. It would logically follow, given their inexplicable acts of rage, should someone so much as place a toe in their territory.
Perhaps our dragons are merely your dragons' oft-ignored inbred cousins. It would logically follow, given their inexplicable acts of rage, should someone so much as place a toe in their territory.
Well... I've faced worse odds and come out on top.
[ He flashes Owen a grin, though it quickly falls from his face, and his ears give the slightest twitch. ]
Someone's at the door.
[ And sure enough, a moment later there's a scuffling sound coming from the doors. One door nudges inward slightly, and Blue's muzzle pokes through the gap, sniffing the air. ]
... I had a feeling she'd find us.
[ He flashes Owen a grin, though it quickly falls from his face, and his ears give the slightest twitch. ]
Someone's at the door.
[ And sure enough, a moment later there's a scuffling sound coming from the doors. One door nudges inward slightly, and Blue's muzzle pokes through the gap, sniffing the air. ]
... I had a feeling she'd find us.
[ At that little bit of information, he brings the assault rifle around. If it's one of the InGen troops, he'd prefer not to hurt anyone -- but he doubts they have any such compunctions. Better to look threatening and bluff than go quietly.
But the light scratching is slightly familiar, and he lowers the gun, watching as Blue parts the door further, stepping into the room, crouched low and casting a wary eye at the two of them. Her sickle claw clicks sharply against the floor, agitated, as she surveys her environment.
Owen's shape must remind her of the InGen soldiers milling around outside, and she snarls, lip curling away from razor-sharp teeth. ]
--Easy, Blue. Easy.
[ He carefully puts the assault rifle on the ground, keeps his other weapons holstered as he puts up his hands. She sniffs at the air again, and she seems to recognize him at last, though her gaze swivels to Ian. Her head tilts to one side, curious as she approaches. ]
But the light scratching is slightly familiar, and he lowers the gun, watching as Blue parts the door further, stepping into the room, crouched low and casting a wary eye at the two of them. Her sickle claw clicks sharply against the floor, agitated, as she surveys her environment.
Owen's shape must remind her of the InGen soldiers milling around outside, and she snarls, lip curling away from razor-sharp teeth. ]
--Easy, Blue. Easy.
[ He carefully puts the assault rifle on the ground, keeps his other weapons holstered as he puts up his hands. She sniffs at the air again, and she seems to recognize him at last, though her gaze swivels to Ian. Her head tilts to one side, curious as she approaches. ]
[ Ian, for his own part, remains where he is, watching as Blue seems to settle a little. So she does know this man- what a fortunate set of circumstances.
Then she's approaching him, nostrils flaring. He'd admit, he doesn't know what to do to earn an Old One's trust, but he's hoping he's not so removed from her family tree that she sees him as Kin more than dinner.
He can't die, but that doesn't mean that getting mauled hurts any less.
So he cautiously holds out a hand to her as she approaches. ]
Hello. Remember me?
Then she's approaching him, nostrils flaring. He'd admit, he doesn't know what to do to earn an Old One's trust, but he's hoping he's not so removed from her family tree that she sees him as Kin more than dinner.
He can't die, but that doesn't mean that getting mauled hurts any less.
So he cautiously holds out a hand to her as she approaches. ]
Hello. Remember me?
[ Her head tilts again, the opposite direction this time. There's no malice in her stance, and she lacks the restrained, tense air she had only moments ago as she stepped through the door, all coiled muscles ready to spring at a moment's notice.
Ostensibly it's because there's something she recognizes, now -- the man who raised her, obviously, but maybe she recognizes something in Ian. Something familiar.
She sniffs at his hand, and Owen-- doesn't freeze, exactly, but his body stills. He waits, watching the exchange between the two of them and really hopping this doesn't end in a spray of blood. But once Blue has picked up Ian's scent, she does little more than rock back on her heels, glancing between Owen and the pirate with curiosity. She chatters softly. ]
-- I'm guessing that means she likes you.
Ostensibly it's because there's something she recognizes, now -- the man who raised her, obviously, but maybe she recognizes something in Ian. Something familiar.
She sniffs at his hand, and Owen-- doesn't freeze, exactly, but his body stills. He waits, watching the exchange between the two of them and really hopping this doesn't end in a spray of blood. But once Blue has picked up Ian's scent, she does little more than rock back on her heels, glancing between Owen and the pirate with curiosity. She chatters softly. ]
-- I'm guessing that means she likes you.
[ Ian remains calm as she scopes him out- being nervous will certainly get him nowhere.
It seems he was right. Ha. If only his nestmates could see him now. They'd die of shock. ]
I do like to think I'm rather likable. Now then, we should probably--
[ He's cut short when Blue whips her head towards the door, body tensing again. Ian's hand goes for the hilt of his sword out of habit, and he falls silent to listen.
"The tracks lead this way." "Why the hell would she go to the old park?" "Hell if I know, man. Let's just take a look and get out of here." ]
Gods damn it all. It seems our search for a safe place continues.
It seems he was right. Ha. If only his nestmates could see him now. They'd die of shock. ]
I do like to think I'm rather likable. Now then, we should probably--
[ He's cut short when Blue whips her head towards the door, body tensing again. Ian's hand goes for the hilt of his sword out of habit, and he falls silent to listen.
"The tracks lead this way." "Why the hell would she go to the old park?" "Hell if I know, man. Let's just take a look and get out of here." ]
Gods damn it all. It seems our search for a safe place continues.
[ Goddammit. Owen can really never catch a break. He can't make out the words, but he at least hears the quiet murmur of voices.
He lets out a low whistle. ]
Blue. Eyes on me.
[ Her head snaps to Owen this time, and she chuffs at him. He can't help the little satisfied smirk that curls his lips, but he smothers it. He makes a demonstrative motion with his arm, directing her down a hall. ]
Go.
[ And she runs full pelt as directed, disappearing around the corner. Owen casts around momentarily before he frees a what might have been a femur from the pile of bones, sliding it through the handles of the door. Then he nods at Ian to follow before he takes off after Blue. ]
He lets out a low whistle. ]
Blue. Eyes on me.
[ Her head snaps to Owen this time, and she chuffs at him. He can't help the little satisfied smirk that curls his lips, but he smothers it. He makes a demonstrative motion with his arm, directing her down a hall. ]
Go.
[ And she runs full pelt as directed, disappearing around the corner. Owen casts around momentarily before he frees a what might have been a femur from the pile of bones, sliding it through the handles of the door. Then he nods at Ian to follow before he takes off after Blue. ]
[ The pieces are falling into place as to why Owen is here in the first place, and it’s clear he cares about Blue, which is enough to make Ian smile, even as he’s being told to run. He takes off down the hall just as the door tires to swing inward, only to be halted by the dinosaur bone there.
Ian keeps his pace closer to that of the human, ending up somewhere between Blue and Owen in the hall. He glances over his shoulder. ] Do you know where this lets out?
Ian keeps his pace closer to that of the human, ending up somewhere between Blue and Owen in the hall. He glances over his shoulder. ] Do you know where this lets out?
[ The tragedy at Jurassic World flooded headlines the morning after everything took place. Thanks to social media and Isla Nublar's sturdy comm towers, news got out quickly; representatives were contacted for comment even as Pteranodons and Dimorphodons still rained down from the sky, stealing people away or clawing them to shreds. The pictures were gruesome. The live tweets were bleek and outraged. Jurassic World's logo was plastered on every news outlet around the world, along with Simon Masrani's face, and they would be for weeks to come.
Victims still seeking answers in wake of tragedy.
Eyewitness: 'It was chaos. Everyone was screaming.'
Who's to blame for 'Jurassic' disaster?
Owen's lucky enough to be a low man on the totem pole. Aside from brief fact-finding interviews conducted by Masrani Global and InGen for his involvement in the hunt for the Indominus Rex, he was mostly left alone. He was only a handler, after all, who happened to step up when things went to shit; that his Velociraptors turned on him and the InGen soldiers didn't seem to faze his interviewers. "You're a hero," one of the corporate shills told Owen as the interview drew to a close. It was obvious that they were looking for heroes. For acts of daring and selflessness performed by park employees to spin the tragedy into something positive. An unfortunate disaster, but look at these normal people, doing extraordinary things for their fellow man.
He felt dirty. Disgusting. The shower he took after that was a long one, and he nearly used all of the hot water scrubbing the feeling of slime away. But luckily, they didn't use his story in the newsreels. Too violent, probably. Too easy to see the gaping holes where they would leave out the moment he lost control of his raptors. They would never want to mention how in trying to save the park, Owen guided a platoon of men into the waiting jaws of his own dinosaurs, and how they died screaming.
Yeah. Probably not the sound bites they want going out over the waves.
Claire, though, had no such luck, and she became their posterchild and spokeswoman all at once. The grainy security camera footage of her standing before the infamous Tyrannosaurus Rex, flare in hand, had been leaked -- probably by Masrani Global's doing, if Owen had to guess. Not only was Claire busy fielding questions and rehashing the mistakes leading up to the disaster, but she also had to contend with being put up on a pedastal. Look at this brave woman, who saved her guests, who did everything she could to protect her nephews. Wasn't she courageous? Isn't she beautiful?
If nothing else, Owen is at least glad they aren't using her as a scapegoat. He's been in that position before, and he knows exactly how unpleasant it can be.
The two of them haven't seen each other much since their bosses ramped up their response to the media circus, which means the topic of them has yet to be fully discussed; they happen to cross paths as they're both leaving separate interviews at Masrani's HQ in San Diego -- more info-gathering, for Owen; a debriefing, for Claire -- and decide to grab lunch together to catch up. Easier said than done, however, when they're greeted by a crowd of reporters at the front doorstep. Claire seems to ignore them well enough, and Owen follows her lead, carefully shouldering past men and women to clear a path. They're nearly in the clear when one persistent man stands in front of them, a digital recorder jammed in Claire's face.
"Ms. Dearing," he said. "Footage of you guiding the T-Rex out of its paddock has surfaced recently. Do you have any comment on your irresponsibility for unleashing not one, but two dangerous creatures on Isla Nublar? Or do you have anything you'd like to say in response to accusations that this video was manufactured by Masrani Global?"
Owen's not sure how Claire feels about the bullshit the guy just vomited out of his mouth -- she always did have one hell of a poker face -- but Owen, at least, steps between the two of them, annoyance seeping from every pore. "You want to get out of our way, sir."
The reporter continues to hound the two of them as Owen guides Claire away. "Ms. Dearing. Do you have any comment on naysayers stating your position as the park's lead asset manager was earned by sleeping with Simon Masrani? Any comment on rumors stating that the creature known as the Indominus Rex never existed, owing to the fact that the creature has never been seen, and that stories regarding its accidental release were invented to conceal your incompetence in maintaining the park's security? Any comment on--"
At around that point, Owen surprises the reporter by punching him, and he felt the satisfying crunch of cartilage beneath his knuckles. He shakes out his hand, moving to guide Claire away again, when the reporter surprises him by jumping back to his feet and driving his fist into Owen's gut.
Things got a little out of hand, after that.
One broken nose (the reporter's), one bleeding nose (Owen's), two black eyes (one for each, though the reporter's was worse), a split lip (Owen's), a torn shirt (the reporter's), twenty bruised knuckles, and two citations for causing a public disturbance later, Owen finds himself at the wrong end of icy silence from Claire. She's brought them back to her apartment (which, by the way, is really nice, though Owen finds it difficult to compliment her digs in the face of her quiet rage) with hardly a word, and he's directed to sit at the kitchen counter.
Dirty, disheveled, and with a wadded-up napkin up his nose is not how he imagined himself in Claire Dearing's home. At length, he swallows his apprehension and finally breaks the silence. ]
Alright, go ahead. Tell me how pissed you are at me.
Victims still seeking answers in wake of tragedy.
Eyewitness: 'It was chaos. Everyone was screaming.'
Who's to blame for 'Jurassic' disaster?
Owen's lucky enough to be a low man on the totem pole. Aside from brief fact-finding interviews conducted by Masrani Global and InGen for his involvement in the hunt for the Indominus Rex, he was mostly left alone. He was only a handler, after all, who happened to step up when things went to shit; that his Velociraptors turned on him and the InGen soldiers didn't seem to faze his interviewers. "You're a hero," one of the corporate shills told Owen as the interview drew to a close. It was obvious that they were looking for heroes. For acts of daring and selflessness performed by park employees to spin the tragedy into something positive. An unfortunate disaster, but look at these normal people, doing extraordinary things for their fellow man.
He felt dirty. Disgusting. The shower he took after that was a long one, and he nearly used all of the hot water scrubbing the feeling of slime away. But luckily, they didn't use his story in the newsreels. Too violent, probably. Too easy to see the gaping holes where they would leave out the moment he lost control of his raptors. They would never want to mention how in trying to save the park, Owen guided a platoon of men into the waiting jaws of his own dinosaurs, and how they died screaming.
Yeah. Probably not the sound bites they want going out over the waves.
Claire, though, had no such luck, and she became their posterchild and spokeswoman all at once. The grainy security camera footage of her standing before the infamous Tyrannosaurus Rex, flare in hand, had been leaked -- probably by Masrani Global's doing, if Owen had to guess. Not only was Claire busy fielding questions and rehashing the mistakes leading up to the disaster, but she also had to contend with being put up on a pedastal. Look at this brave woman, who saved her guests, who did everything she could to protect her nephews. Wasn't she courageous? Isn't she beautiful?
If nothing else, Owen is at least glad they aren't using her as a scapegoat. He's been in that position before, and he knows exactly how unpleasant it can be.
The two of them haven't seen each other much since their bosses ramped up their response to the media circus, which means the topic of them has yet to be fully discussed; they happen to cross paths as they're both leaving separate interviews at Masrani's HQ in San Diego -- more info-gathering, for Owen; a debriefing, for Claire -- and decide to grab lunch together to catch up. Easier said than done, however, when they're greeted by a crowd of reporters at the front doorstep. Claire seems to ignore them well enough, and Owen follows her lead, carefully shouldering past men and women to clear a path. They're nearly in the clear when one persistent man stands in front of them, a digital recorder jammed in Claire's face.
"Ms. Dearing," he said. "Footage of you guiding the T-Rex out of its paddock has surfaced recently. Do you have any comment on your irresponsibility for unleashing not one, but two dangerous creatures on Isla Nublar? Or do you have anything you'd like to say in response to accusations that this video was manufactured by Masrani Global?"
Owen's not sure how Claire feels about the bullshit the guy just vomited out of his mouth -- she always did have one hell of a poker face -- but Owen, at least, steps between the two of them, annoyance seeping from every pore. "You want to get out of our way, sir."
The reporter continues to hound the two of them as Owen guides Claire away. "Ms. Dearing. Do you have any comment on naysayers stating your position as the park's lead asset manager was earned by sleeping with Simon Masrani? Any comment on rumors stating that the creature known as the Indominus Rex never existed, owing to the fact that the creature has never been seen, and that stories regarding its accidental release were invented to conceal your incompetence in maintaining the park's security? Any comment on--"
At around that point, Owen surprises the reporter by punching him, and he felt the satisfying crunch of cartilage beneath his knuckles. He shakes out his hand, moving to guide Claire away again, when the reporter surprises him by jumping back to his feet and driving his fist into Owen's gut.
Things got a little out of hand, after that.
One broken nose (the reporter's), one bleeding nose (Owen's), two black eyes (one for each, though the reporter's was worse), a split lip (Owen's), a torn shirt (the reporter's), twenty bruised knuckles, and two citations for causing a public disturbance later, Owen finds himself at the wrong end of icy silence from Claire. She's brought them back to her apartment (which, by the way, is really nice, though Owen finds it difficult to compliment her digs in the face of her quiet rage) with hardly a word, and he's directed to sit at the kitchen counter.
Dirty, disheveled, and with a wadded-up napkin up his nose is not how he imagined himself in Claire Dearing's home. At length, he swallows his apprehension and finally breaks the silence. ]
Alright, go ahead. Tell me how pissed you are at me.
[ Claire has gone nonstop since they got off the island. She barely has time to breathe, barely time to think, to process, but she pushes forward and endures. She has no choice in the matter.
So for a while, it's good to be with Owen again. Her life has been lacking in any sort of normalcy or anchor for so long. Owen is straightforward, he's consistent, and... damn it, she's missed him. There's something reassuring about his presence at her back as she's facing down yet another mob of reporters.
But that all goes right out the fucking window the second he steps in front of her.
So now, here they are in her kitchen (and this is not how she envisioned inviting Owen over to her apartment at all). He's well-aware he's fucked up- hard not to be, given the fact that Claire has been silently fuming at him from the moment he and the reporter were finally separated.
She fishes in her drawers for a rag and is in the process of wetting it in the kitchen sink when Owen finally speaks, and her gaze snaps in his direction, cold and furious. ]
I have to tell you? Here I thought you would have figured it out by now.
[ It comes out clipped and angry. She wads the rag in the hand and squeezes it, presumably to get the extra water out, but after a moment her grip becomes white-knuckled, and she rounds on him at last ]
What the hell were you thinking? Were you trying to add to the feeding frenzy? That little stunt you pulled is going to be on the front of every gossip magazine for weeks!
So for a while, it's good to be with Owen again. Her life has been lacking in any sort of normalcy or anchor for so long. Owen is straightforward, he's consistent, and... damn it, she's missed him. There's something reassuring about his presence at her back as she's facing down yet another mob of reporters.
But that all goes right out the fucking window the second he steps in front of her.
So now, here they are in her kitchen (and this is not how she envisioned inviting Owen over to her apartment at all). He's well-aware he's fucked up- hard not to be, given the fact that Claire has been silently fuming at him from the moment he and the reporter were finally separated.
She fishes in her drawers for a rag and is in the process of wetting it in the kitchen sink when Owen finally speaks, and her gaze snaps in his direction, cold and furious. ]
I have to tell you? Here I thought you would have figured it out by now.
[ It comes out clipped and angry. She wads the rag in the hand and squeezes it, presumably to get the extra water out, but after a moment her grip becomes white-knuckled, and she rounds on him at last ]
What the hell were you thinking? Were you trying to add to the feeding frenzy? That little stunt you pulled is going to be on the front of every gossip magazine for weeks!
Back exit. Through the garage.
[ And sure enough-- well, the garage has seen better days. Like the main area, it's overgrown and filthy with dirt and grime, but it also has a giant hole where a wall used to be. Blue is waiting for them there, as if awaiting further orders.
At this point, there's really no adequate direction to take them, except away, so Owen just chooses a direction, probably towards the coast, and gestures for them to follow. ]
[ And sure enough-- well, the garage has seen better days. Like the main area, it's overgrown and filthy with dirt and grime, but it also has a giant hole where a wall used to be. Blue is waiting for them there, as if awaiting further orders.
At this point, there's really no adequate direction to take them, except away, so Owen just chooses a direction, probably towards the coast, and gestures for them to follow. ]
[ He offers a noncommittal hum. ]
That we do. And in overabundance.
[ During this time, Dorian has led him through the main hall (to further curious glances and whispers from soldiers and nobles alike), up a set of stone steps, to a corridor lined with doors. Evidently the private quarters. ]
I believe the furthest room is unoccupied.
That we do. And in overabundance.
[ During this time, Dorian has led him through the main hall (to further curious glances and whispers from soldiers and nobles alike), up a set of stone steps, to a corridor lined with doors. Evidently the private quarters. ]
I believe the furthest room is unoccupied.
[ Yeah. There it is.
Owen rolls his eyes, sighing, as he pulls the napkin from his nose. He's pretty sure the bleeding has stopped by now -- and when he presses the tips of his fingers to his nostril, he's proven right. He tosses the wad into the nearest trash can. ]
The guy was way out of line.
And you're right. I just gave that dick one hell of a story. He'll be thanking me in a day or two.
Owen rolls his eyes, sighing, as he pulls the napkin from his nose. He's pretty sure the bleeding has stopped by now -- and when he presses the tips of his fingers to his nostril, he's proven right. He tosses the wad into the nearest trash can. ]
The guy was way out of line.
And you're right. I just gave that dick one hell of a story. He'll be thanking me in a day or two.
They're always out of line, Owen. It's always about who I'm sleeping with or how I'm responsible for what happened. They want me to snap at them.
Did you seriously think you were defending me back there? If you thought that was bad, now it's going to be ten times worse because you couldn't keep yourself in check.
And I swear to God, if you roll your eyes at me like that again, I will re-bloody your nose.
Did you seriously think you were defending me back there? If you thought that was bad, now it's going to be ten times worse because you couldn't keep yourself in check.
And I swear to God, if you roll your eyes at me like that again, I will re-bloody your nose.
[ He almost does it again. Just to test her. Their relationship, such as it was, was always a bit of give and take, after all.
But maybe now's not a good time to test that theory. He does, at least, huff out another breath. ]
I can handle whatever mud they sling at me. It's different when they sling it at you.
But maybe now's not a good time to test that theory. He does, at least, huff out another breath. ]
I can handle whatever mud they sling at me. It's different when they sling it at you.
Where the hell have you been the last several weeks? They've been slinging mud at me since day one. Just because it doesn't get printed doesn't mean it doesn't happen.
If you started a fight with every reporter who insinuated I was screwing my boss, there wouldn't be any left.
If you started a fight with every reporter who insinuated I was screwing my boss, there wouldn't be any left.
Edited 2015-08-04 04:08 (UTC)
That's not the point, Owen.
The point is you stepped out of line and I'm going to have to bear the brunt of that.
The point is you stepped out of line and I'm going to have to bear the brunt of that.
I'm pretty sure I'm the one that punched the guy. If anything, they'll come after this mysterious dude who came out of nowhere and decked a reporter.
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