shitposting rave 3: Dawn of the third rave

That's really sad, actually.

 

He smiles.
"It counts, in my humble opinion, as I feel honored by your concern. You are a good uh-.... person. Let us go with person, which I assume is the safest bet right now."
He laughs apologetically.
"I agree with you anyhow, but I fear that rogue element is quite beyond any kind of help."

He calls over his shoulder, coldly.
"Sir you seem to be under the misapprehension that your casual tender feelings were the same as the bone deep devotion I feel for my lady wife. And while I will not police you on your romantic endeavours, or try to make you feel as deeply as I do, I can, for certain, say, that if you can take a new lover into consideration without a lengthy mourning period, then your feelings must have been shallow and lackluster at best."

 

Aw, and now you're being kind of an asshole too. Seriously?

 

He levels an unimpressed glare at the gentleman.
"I'm quite aware, Sir. Have you missed the part where I am not a gentleman, I just pretend to be one while at work? And as Doctor Pines so beautifully put it recently, being deceased generally ends one's employment contract quite immediately."

 

So, you're being a dick about how other people do romance because you're dead? That's... sort of a weird way to go about it.

 

His grin is definitly not a happy one.
"No, Sir, I am impolitely judgemental about this man's relationship choices since I do not see him as enough of a threat to attempt to be charming anymore. He took his mood out on a young lady and is clearly a most dishonorable element. I have conferred with such before, but for my own soul's sake I do not generally do it without a mission enforcing such interaction. And without the mission statement making me play nice and pretend at courteous- Well."
He winks.

 

That's incredible. So your race has a castes based on blood... I suppose that isn't so different from the practices of ancient Earth, though substitute the blood's color for the individual's parentage. Bajor as well had a caste system in place, though during their fifty years of occupation it became impractical to continue putting stock in it.

Your system seems almost less arbitrary, particularly with the implication that each color comes with its own physical advantages, though delineation by physical traits has been... disadvantageous at best in nearly every species I've read about, to say nothing of my own species' history. Tell me, have you found that delegation of labor has been made more or less complicated?

And you power your ship... that's incredible! Your power output must be... phenominal. Are abilities like yours common to your species? What happens if you were to take ill, or something happened to your body while you're working... I've only ever heard of someone controlling a vessel via telepathy, and only for a few hours at a time and it was an enormous strain on their mental faculties. I can't imagine placing sole responsibility of the ship's power on one individual, except as a last resort.

-He laughs.-

Your genetic, biological predecessors... or, I suppose, the adults taking care of you. I shouldn't presume that every species is cared for by their own progenitors.

 

Why would adults take care of kids~?

 

Jesus, that's really sad too. I mean, he's a giant fucking asshole and I'd dump hot coffee on his dick with half a second's motivation but that's like... retail brainwashing times ten.

Still sort of a dick thing to say though, man.

 

What's a genetic predewhatsit?

 

He laughs. The laugh is also not a happy one.
"As I said. I'm well aware, Sir. And that is what an agent does. Infiltrate, collect information, proof, anything the mission statement demands, then extract from the situation as quickly and cleanly as possible. If it involves batting my lashes at less than savory company while at a dance or laughing at jokes I do not find funny at a soirée, well it is still an occupation I have chosen and it frankly is a lot better than some of the alternatives."

 

thats vwhat ivwe been asking my ENTIRE LIFE. here on beforus? thats called culling and its MANDATORY for highbloods.

 

you. i like you.

 

I'm gonna be real, running around getting punched in the face sounds about ten times better than that. Government work kills your soul.

Or I guess, you in this case? Is that how you died, when you had your accident?

Why does this feel like a trap. This feels like a trap.

 

He attempts to hid his embarrassment behind his coffee cup.
"No see, ahaha. That. Quite the peculiar turn of events. See I had just struck a deal with Mister Samael Schuyler, a man of great renown and questionable honor, and as he well delivered with his assistance at the task. The shot went high, not injuring me. I let myself fall off the bridge, confident in my ability to fake my own demise. Overconfident by quite some as it turns out, in my ability to calculate trajectories."
He rubs at the jagged scar on his face that looks impossibly fresh.

 

fair enough.

 

Well, someone's got to look after you until you can do so yourselves!

They are the source of an individuals genetic makeup, the donators of the building blocks of their life, though depending on the species they might be the sole contributor or one of several. My own species requires two for reproduction.

 

Is he your brother?

 

Well, shit. Uh. Sorry to hear that. Why were you faking your death in the first place?

*He looks pretty embarrassed to have asked.*

I've got my eye on you. Just so you know.

 

in my experience, anyone vwho DOESNT think im an asshole is either a bigger one or vwants something from me.