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Ink is Never White or Black
Jan. 28th, 2017 08:36 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
agent3Who: Thida and Thaum
Where: The Octarian Kettles
When: After Cap'n Cuttlefish's kidnapping, but before the final boss in Splatoon's 1st player campaign
Open/Closed: Closed
Rated: PG 13 for violence and themes of racism
What: He's a mimic octopus. She's the secret agent infiltrating his home to dismantle a rebellion. This was never going to end well.
[There had been a touch of coldness to Thida's movements in the kettles after the Cap'n got taken. Instead of the dizzying heights of the platforms making her sick to her stomach, she only pushed herself to jump further, fly higher, aim sharper at the next ledge. Instead of walking into enemy sight on accident, she hid and waited and watched until she could secure a path of attack. It was never in her to wait with a shooter, preferring to make intuitive judgments with a brush instead, but she had taught herself. She had learned. Not just for every Zapfish she saved, but now for the Cap'n too - the only adult in this entire city who cared a lick about the loner squid with nothing to her name, who supported herself on Turf War earnings and couldn't follow a trend to save her life, let alone make a proper friend.
But...was that entirely true? Thaum, she supposed sometimes on the surface, was a peculiar kind of friend. They weren't very kind to each other, often butting heads in battle and in the plaza, but they had always seemed to come together, and through that they had come to know each other. And...he was an Octoling. That made it all the more difficult, it really did, which was why she didn't think of him while in the kettles. She had to think of the Cap'n, well past his prime and her dear mentor. She had to think of the Octoweapons she'd fought before, and the terror and destruction they would bring to the surface if she couldn't stop them. For everything else's sake, she just couldn't think of Thaum.
But perhaps she really should.]
Where: The Octarian Kettles
When: After Cap'n Cuttlefish's kidnapping, but before the final boss in Splatoon's 1st player campaign
Open/Closed: Closed
Rated: PG 13 for violence and themes of racism
What: He's a mimic octopus. She's the secret agent infiltrating his home to dismantle a rebellion. This was never going to end well.
[There had been a touch of coldness to Thida's movements in the kettles after the Cap'n got taken. Instead of the dizzying heights of the platforms making her sick to her stomach, she only pushed herself to jump further, fly higher, aim sharper at the next ledge. Instead of walking into enemy sight on accident, she hid and waited and watched until she could secure a path of attack. It was never in her to wait with a shooter, preferring to make intuitive judgments with a brush instead, but she had taught herself. She had learned. Not just for every Zapfish she saved, but now for the Cap'n too - the only adult in this entire city who cared a lick about the loner squid with nothing to her name, who supported herself on Turf War earnings and couldn't follow a trend to save her life, let alone make a proper friend.
But...was that entirely true? Thaum, she supposed sometimes on the surface, was a peculiar kind of friend. They weren't very kind to each other, often butting heads in battle and in the plaza, but they had always seemed to come together, and through that they had come to know each other. And...he was an Octoling. That made it all the more difficult, it really did, which was why she didn't think of him while in the kettles. She had to think of the Cap'n, well past his prime and her dear mentor. She had to think of the Octoweapons she'd fought before, and the terror and destruction they would bring to the surface if she couldn't stop them. For everything else's sake, she just couldn't think of Thaum.
But perhaps she really should.]