just a thought

[fancypost borderwidth=0px; height: auto; width: 550px; text-align: justify; font-size: 12px;][font=constantia][color=white]fuck if i know i'm kinda preoccupied
jk jk but um hmmm
what
what do you usually do for these kinds of things?? c:
as you can tell i haven't really rped su before sooooo //shot

[fancypost borderwidth=0px; height: auto; width: 550px; text-align: justify; font-size: 12px;][font=constantia][color=white]umumum
hhhhhhh
anything catches my interest these days
i don't mean to be so useless but i'm just
so clueless
what has more..
possibilities i guess i could say? like, something that won't die/get too old too fast bc i have the attention span of a goldfish

[fancypost borderwidth=0px; height: auto; width: 550px; text-align: justify; font-size: 12px;][font=constantia][color=white]i'm probably gonna just stay with pyrope bc i want to develop him more and as you stated before jet has a case of the gay though i am debating on keeping cobalt around since i can kinda see a mentorship-sorta thing with her and jet?? she'd probably look up to him since he's both hella old and hella talented and she's kinda neither and wants to be/do more
hell, depending on the situation, i could even make more characters, even if they might play more minor roles in terms of the story
y'know, just like we kinda did with our other war babies

i know if we did something along the lines of a survey/scouting mission like the group thread or a wartime thing you could incorporate your baby fordite in some manner
what do you have in mind? :3c

[fancypost borderwidth=0px; height: auto; width: 550px; text-align: justify; font-size: 12px;][font=constantia][color=white]your babbling is fucking perfect okay and nothing could tell me otherwise
and then sometime after that incident they find themselves cornered and/or in a situation of severe stress and threat from many sides
ya see from that particular point forward these two gaylings bad stuck closer together (though often much to pyrope's lament bc dammit jet doesn't need to be putting himself through the full extent of battle)
and this point is exactly why pyrope sometimes would just growl and yell and demand that jet remain behind or at least from a better, safer vantage point (maybe bc he'd never really even see the tol techie fight before so he has this overwhelming feeling to protect and serve)
anyway they're pretty much fucked with any reinforcements just too far off or too busy trying not to get pooled and/or shattered themselves
pyrope gets poofed just trying to keep jet behind him and trying to keep himself between the adversaries he'd come to absolutely hate and loathe
though he doesn't give himself time to heal or even take a breather as only mere moments after he poofs, he just reforms again
and it happens again
and again
it's clearly painful and exhausting but he keeps fighting and trying even as he's being yelled at and perhaps even pleaded with to just stay down because dammit-
"look at yourself! what did i tell you? i don't want to lose you."
"what do you think i'm trying to do?"
"you're trying to get yourself killed!"
"i'm trying not to lose!"
"who cares about losing?"
"i'm not losing you."
"what-?"
"i'm not losing you, either. no one's being lost this time."

oh the pain
i love babbling with you

[fancypost borderwidth=0px; height: auto; width: 550px; text-align: justify; font-size: 12px;][font=constantia][color=white]oh my god this hurts
this hurts so good

mmmmm yes yes we should
leave SOMETHING to the imagination yknow
mmmmmmmmmm
could you pls
since i'm useless /finger guns/
+ you just seem to know what you're doin over there with your clever self so <:3c

[align=center][fancypost bgcolor=#1c1c1c; border: 5px solid #151515; width: 470px; min-height: 300px; padding: 0px; padding-top: 20px][fancypost bgcolor=; border: none; width: 470px; height: 60px; padding: 0px; font-family: baskerville old face; color: #8A0808; font-size: 40px; line-height: 40px; text-align: center; text-transform: uppercase; letter-spacing: -4px; text-shadow: 0px 0px 2px black]pyrope .[fancypost bgcolor=; border: none; width: 470px; height: 20px; font-size: 20px; line-height: 20px; text-transform: lowercase; letter-spacing: -2px; margin-top: -8px]why explore the universe, when we don't know ourselves? [/fancypost][/fancypost][fancypost bgcolor=; border: 3px solid #151515; width: 500px; height: 20px; padding: 0px; background: url(http://bestanimations.com/Natu…e/fire-animated-gif-4.gif); margin-left: -18px][/fancypost][fancypost bgcolor=#151515; border: none; width: 470px; height: 27px; padding: 0px; font-family: verdana; color: #e6e6e6; font-size: 10px; line-height: 24px; text-align: center]agender masculine || military general || pink yellow diamond || beta kindergarten[/fancypost][fancypost bgcolor=; border: none; width: 450px; min-height: 152px; padding: 10px; font-family: verdana; color: #a4a4a4; font-size: 10px; line-height: 12px; text-align: justify]

Ever since he'd erupted from the ground, from this hellhole dubbed Earth, he'd been fighting. He'd known his purpose from the start, and knew his enemies from his first breath. He knew he was made to fight, to persevere, to win. He hadn't been alive for very long, but even so he was given the task to lead. Wasn't sure why, wasn't sure why he out of many of his caliber, who were often sent off to the blacksmithing shops for weaponry and defense, was chosen to fight and defend the grand ideals of the Empire and awesome might of his Diamond Authority, but he couldn't say he was complaining. He couldn't say he was ungrateful for the opportunity, couldn't say he would rather be elsewhere or even be back in the shops. He'd rather face the very real risk of shattering while defending something he was fiercely loyal and passionate about rather than standing on the sidelines and waiting for an outcome he'd have no part in. He wanted to make an impact, he wanted to showcase the masterful prowess and pure power that the Empire could provide and put to use, he wanted to snuff out the flame that burned so irritantly in the eyes of his leaders. He wanted this stupid rebellion crushed, and with every Homeworld-aligned Gem that fell to the dirt and was split into fragments by these- these ruffians, these traitors, he yearned more and more for their destruction.

He couldn't say that he did not admire their tactics. He couldn't say he wasn't taken aback by their sheer might and their growing numbers, but it didn't mean he wasn't at all disgusted. How dare they turn their backs on their own species, on their own kind? How dare they become so ungrateful, so insolent, so vile as to taint the word and the gospel of their culture, their greatness, their Authority? How dare they. Every back turned deserved a blade through it, or a war hammer knocking them into oblivion. Every gem turned black by rebellion deserved to be shattered, for they were defective. They were wrong, they did not deserve what their great and generous leaders had given them. They deserved punishment, prosecution - they deserved death. There was no room for diplomacy, there was no chance at reconcile, no use in trying to settle this with peace. Only war would bring a compromise, as much as it often repulsed other minds of other morals. And even then, there would be no compromise at the end of this war - only a victor, and a loser. He was to make sure that these rebels were to be put in their place, to be put under and left in defeat.

Anyway. Moving on.

It'd been a while since he'd been out on the field. It wasn't a large amount of time, but every night/day cycle on this godforsaken rock with water just made it feel that much longer. Every 'day' Gems were being poofed, being shattered and thus killed, and he wasn't able to do anything about it. He was just forced to remain here and plan more with fellow militant leaders and strategists as surveyers went out to observe the enemy's movements and planned accordingly with estimates and multiple alternate movement patterns in the case of something going awry. Something nearly always went awry now, and it was incredibly irritating to have to plan more retreat routes than offense movements. While Homeworld definitely had the edge with numbers, the 'Crystal Gems' (ugh, the name made him want to retch!) had durability. One of their members could easily take down some ill-experienced Quartz soldiers, especially those of their older regime. He'd never had the chance to face them, those who were there since the beginning. That cheating, vile fusion showcase that made him feel near ashamed to share a typing with; the Pearl that had defected her owners and stepped too far out of line, actually believing she had a mind of her own and a will to do as she pleased; and that- that conniving, murderous, manipulative Rose Quartz.

If he'd had the chance, the opportunity, he'd shatter her himself. He'd risk his own skin just for a chance to lay a number on her - they needed her. They all depended on her, worshipped her...without her, they'd fall. They'd break, they'd leave an opening just wide and crucial enough to shatter their so-called 'cause' into a million pieces. He was sure of it, and she was so reckless as to fight herself on the field...it was a surprise nobody had gotten her already. Sure, she was a Quartz, made to fight despite her 'friendly' and 'compassionate' appearance, but you'd think she'd let her guard down at some point, if she was so dearly focused on her precious Crystal Gems...
Ugh, enough of that. This meeting was making his head hurt, and it wasn't like he was paying much attention anyway. He promptly excused himself, though he doubted he went about heard, seeing as the focus of the room was a Vermarine and a Citrine butting heads over tactics and maneuvers.

Folding his hands behind his back accordingly and leaving the room once the doors parted, he made his way down a levitating stairwell, brushing shoulders with a couple of Chalcedony-Quartz soldiers, specifically an Aventurine and Chrysoprase, as they rushed their way up onto the next floor. He didn't have the mind to care as to why they were in a hurry, and simply continued his way down, trying to remember if he needed to take care of anything while he was down here. His head was a hurricane these days...oh? His eyes narrowed slightly to focus on a particular white/black-themed Gem wandering about the ground floor, as if looking for something in particular. Spotting the White Diamond insignia crested upon the towering being's cap, he'd just remembered something he'd been waiting for: someone's arrival. There'd be little other reason for a White Diamond's court member to be here, seeing as this place was mainly infested with those under the authority of Yellow Diamond as a sort of military base, though those of Blue Diamond's court did meander here and there.

Just as the Gem's back was turned, Pyrope began his approach, stiffening as he began to see just how tall this one was. Ugh. Pyrope wasn't short by any standards, but many of his soldiers came to tower over him in such a manner in which that some newcomers failed to take him seriously. Of course, a routine check-and-placement often whipped them back into shape, usually coupled with a threat of a disobedience report. He wasn't sure what scared them more, but he often found himself not caring all that much; as long as they were loyal, obedient soldiers, he was fine with them...usually.
Of course, this one wasn't a soldier. He wasn't quite sure how to handle a technician, but it'd have to do.

"Hey. You're late. Trouble with transport?" He wasn't late by any means - hell, there wasn't even an assigned appointment of any sort, that he could recollect as of the moment anyway. He just liked seeing people squirm, wanted to see this one's reaction, though he looked nervous enough already. "Sheesh, you're a tall one. Wasn't expectin' that." He gave the monochromatic male a glance-over with wine-red, scrutinizing eyes before giving a snort of...either approval, or disapproval. At this point, it was hard to tell. "What do you know, and what do I need to tell you?" He decided to get straight to the point - he didn't need introductions, would rather not waste their time with one, either. Already knew their names, didn't care about cuts or facets - there was only one Jet he should be accounting for, and he was easy enough to recognize.

// this is longer than i wanted and i'm sorry it took so long ;;
[/fancypost][fancypost bgcolor=#151515; border: none; width: 470px; height: 15px; padding: 0px; font-family: verdana; color: #e6e6e6; font-size: 10px; line-height: 20px; text-align: center]template by[color=#6e6e6e] #punki-chan[/fancypost][/fancypost]

[align=center][fancypost bgcolor=#1c1c1c; border: 5px solid #151515; width: 470px; min-height: 300px; padding: 0px; padding-top: 20px][fancypost bgcolor=; border: none; width: 470px; height: 60px; padding: 0px; font-family: baskerville old face; color: #8A0808; font-size: 40px; line-height: 40px; text-align: center; text-transform: uppercase; letter-spacing: -4px; text-shadow: 0px 0px 2px black]pyrope .[fancypost bgcolor=; border: none; width: 470px; height: 20px; font-size: 20px; line-height: 20px; text-transform: lowercase; letter-spacing: -1px; margin-top: -8px]every wound will shape me; every scar will build my throne. [/fancypost][/fancypost][fancypost bgcolor=; border: 3px solid #151515; width: 500px; height: 20px; padding: 0px; background: url(http://bestanimations.com/Natu…e/fire-animated-gif-4.gif); margin-left: -18px][/fancypost][fancypost bgcolor=#151515; border: none; width: 470px; height: 27px; padding: 0px; font-family: verdana; color: #e6e6e6; font-size: 10px; line-height: 24px; text-align: center]agender masculine || military general || pink yellow diamond || beta kindergarten[/fancypost][fancypost bgcolor=; border: none; width: 450px; min-height: 152px; padding: 10px; font-family: verdana; color: #a4a4a4; font-size: 10px; line-height: 12px; text-align: justify]

The fiery redhead couldn't help but blink a tad in surprise at the sound of the other's voice, having expected something entirely different, even though his appearance and incredibly brief description alone would have told a story of being different than from others' expectations of his type and cut. His lips, stricken through with irregular currant patching, parted ever so slightly to amend the last statement he'd heard - concerning the whole 'specific time' thing, more specifically - though he'd caught himself as the taller one of the two continued talking, first asking some sort of repeating, rhetorical question before continuing on. Pyrope let his lips fall shut again, though he was incredibly tempted to say something at a certain point. Talents. He wasn't sure why that word stuck out so foreignly to him - most likely because nobody around here was uppity enough to claim they had such things; abilities or capabilities were more often used, as they simply stated that someone had the possession or means to do something in particular - talents would state that, in addition, they had a particular finesse or expertise to said skillset. Didn't know why that one word stuck with him for just a bit longer than it should have, but it lingered. Something to remember, to assess, even. See if these talents were indeed so, or just simple capacities.

Where his workspace was? Well, shoot, did he even have one? Probably, but he sure as hell wasn't notified of one... "One moment," He said rather curtly, turning and stepping away as he pressed his first two forefingers of his right hand against his earpiece, seeming to tap a few times in a specific pattern as some sort of coding to tell the computer which personnel to call.
It was about a minute or so of muttering and reiterating what he was asking for in particular before he shut off the receiver and turned to his new 'recruit', though he doubted he could even call this one as so. Didn't think he needed to train him in any sort, though his fighting skills were left to question and ponder about, so what could he call him, other than simply their technician? He didn't know much about this one except for a name and a purpose.
Whatever. Hopefully this one did a fair enough job, as well as kept himself out of harm's way - the last two didn't make it for that very reason, may they rest in peace, as they rest in pieces.

"Alright, c'mon then," He spoke in a rather tight, brusque manner with little room for adjustment or tolerance, for that matter, simply walking past the technician with a stiff, carefully tempered gait. The base looked much larger from within than it did outside, as many Gem structures tended to be, the soldier leading Jet up a differing solid spiral stairwell, connected to a floor above the one he'd just retreated from to get a breather. Along the way, as they passed passerby Gems and wandered through corridors, Pyrope proceeded to give him a run-down of what was to be expected, as well as what was to be provided and anything in between: "I don't think I have to ask of you to respect your authority, both general and Diamond-wise. I wouldn't go about running some kinda smart-mouth, considering there are many kinds of Gems in this establishment, and you might just piss the wrong one off at the wrong time. I doubt this will be a problem, however, you seem fine enough."

Rounded a corner, passed a few soldiers going on their way. There was a training event coming along soon later in the day, so Pyrope was somewhat satisfied with seeing those of his unit going about their duties accordingly. He loathed those who preferred to slack off and was quick to whip them properly back into their place.
"Better than what I've seen. Anyway, I'm sure you're aware of the expectations. Most of them are the same as they would be anywhere else, I'm not gonna treat you like some newly-formed." Well, he'll try his best not to, depending on behavior. "However, you will be expected, at times, to leave your work station in times of imminent battle to aid with repairs and the like. I hope you've had some kind of taste of the field?"

He didn't let the other reply to that one, simply going on as they moved down a corridor after a brief moment of hesitance. Some kind of holographic map was visible in the crimson-themed gem's visor, something he was following to lead Jet properly to his station. "You will have both a Peridot and a Serpentine Chrysotile on standby, if you should ever need aid or advisory guidance concerning a project or whatever. We used to have others, but," He cleared his throat, stopping just short of a doorway and halting his train of thought altogether. Oh, those details weren't important. "Oh, would you look at that. There you go." Pyrope's holographic map seemed to dissipate from his vision with the blink of an eye, and he gestured blandly at the pad positioned upon the wall next to the door, waiting for its assigned to properly open the door. "Only you and authorized personnel can access your quarters. I'm sure you could also program it to allow anyone else you might find suitable." Okay, talking like this was exhausting. He had left that meeting to avoid it, as well as avoid those petty little conflictions between those two particular squadron leads, but here he was, headache still not wiped from his mind.

"Anything else?" It was rather obvious he didn't have to go through this too much, considering his main task was handling his soldiers and working out tactics, not showcasing or touring someone around. That was usually someone else's job, but he'd do practically anything to get planning and such out of his hair for just a few moments. Besides, he'd think it'd be just a bit rude not to be associated with this so-called 'newcomer's' introduction of sorts. Not that he had anything against being rude, himself, shit.

[/fancypost][fancypost bgcolor=#151515; border: none; width: 470px; height: 15px; padding: 0px; font-family: verdana; color: #e6e6e6; font-size: 10px; line-height: 20px; text-align: center]template by[color=#6e6e6e] #punki-chan[/fancypost][/fancypost]

[align=center][fancypost bgcolor=#1c1c1c; border: 5px solid #151515; width: 470px; min-height: 300px; padding: 0px; padding-top: 20px][fancypost bgcolor=; border: none; width: 470px; height: 60px; padding: 0px; font-family: baskerville old face; color: #8A0808; font-size: 40px; line-height: 40px; text-align: center; text-transform: uppercase; letter-spacing: -4px; text-shadow: 0px 0px 2px black]pyrope .[fancypost bgcolor=; border: none; width: 470px; height: 20px; font-size: 20px; line-height: 20px; text-transform: lowercase; letter-spacing: -1px; margin-top: -8px]every wound will shape me; every scar will build my throne. [/fancypost][/fancypost][fancypost bgcolor=; border: 3px solid #151515; width: 500px; height: 20px; padding: 0px; background: url(http://bestanimations.com/Natu…e/fire-animated-gif-4.gif); margin-left: -18px][/fancypost][fancypost bgcolor=#151515; border: none; width: 470px; height: 27px; padding: 0px; font-family: verdana; color: #e6e6e6; font-size: 10px; line-height: 24px; text-align: center]agender masculine || military general || pink yellow diamond || beta kindergarten[/fancypost][fancypost bgcolor=; border: none; width: 450px; min-height: 152px; padding: 10px; font-family: verdana; color: #a4a4a4; font-size: 10px; line-height: 12px; text-align: justify]

Again, like he'd thought before, he didn't know how to handle a technician over a soldier. So, over the course of several days, as he'd heard nothing from the newly-assigned Jet, his attention on the lithely-built Gem both increased and seemed to fizzle in existence. Meaning, he'd began to grow a bit more worried, perhaps with a tad of professional concern, over the ever-extending time period, though he never seemed to act upon his concerns to check up on him and his support team. Always convinced himself that they were both too busy for that sort of thing, so he never got around to it. A day turned into two, and then four, possibly six from there on out, before he heard anything.
Of course, he didn't hear anything about him at all, per se. Not even a warning, as he probably would have preferred...nope. All of a sudden, his vision became blurry and blocked by a wall of words, much without his permission and or invitation, which had made Pyrope pause with complete confusion, repeating the message under his breath, as if in disbelief. That'd- that'd never happened before. How did he--?

Next thing he knew, he was on the floor with his eyes facing the sky. The skies overhead had been relatively cloudy for the past day or so, with the colors of the overcast atmosphere growing darker and heavier, becoming grayer and grayer. He'd been here long enough to know what rain was, and with the stiff blowing wind current, he suspected some sort of storm. Nothing too heavy, but he wasn't expecting some light shower of rain for about twenty minutes. Maybe constant downpour for the upwards of an hour or so...then again, he hadn't been expecting much at all that day, and now here he was - in the dirt, weapon left abandoned at his side, still seeming to stare at the sky as he received yet another message, coming to snort with oncoming distaste for his situation after reading it through accordingly. Seriously, how was he doing that?
"I know you didn't just let me knock you to the ground. Are you okay, sir?"

Pyrope blinked up at the soldier hovering above him, not saying anything as he extended an arm outwards for aid as his other hand grabbed onto his weapon just a foot or two away. The Carnelian hesitated for just the beginnings of a heartbeat before grasping her commander's hand, pulling him up to his feet-- only to get knocked to the floor as Pyrope's foot squarely met their chest, the height-disadvantaged of the two having stabbed the endpoint of his weapon into the soft earth to use his polearm as leverage to hoist him up for a moment to deliver a kick. "I'm fine," Pyrope replied to their earlier statement and question simply, allowing for his weapon to dissipate into the air and back into his gemstone before proceedingly helping his soldier to her feet again. "I do need to leave, however."
Once back up on her feet and seeing as he wasn't posing an immediate threat anymore, the Quartz rolled her shoulders forward, then back with a sigh, arching a pale reddish-orange brow at her leader's statement. "How do you know? If y'don't mind me asking, sir."
"Just found out."
"...Meaning?"
Pyrope seemed to brush it off, stretching his arms over his head as he tipped his head back for the back entrance, gesturing that she should follow him back inside. "Your swings are accurate in placing, but if you could actually get them to land, then we'd be talking something else. Is there something wrong with your war hammer?"
"Er, no sir," She continued lamely, shrugging a bit to herself as she handled the weapon in her hands. It wasn't her own, instead crafted by outside resources - a common weapon for those unable to summon them at the time. Truthfully, the weapon didn't feel balanced at all, leading for many of her swings to become miscounted and inaccurate, but she didn't tell him that. She was supposed to manage otherwise, wasn't she? "Though, you didn't answer my question-"
"Go to Citrine for further instruction. She'll know what to do with you, though it'll most likely be strategy training."
The exasperation was clearly written along the warrior's features, though as she was turned to in further acknowledgement, the Carnelian dipped her head, mane of pale reddish-orange hair kept short to touch her shoulders, though her hair was as wild and unkempt as many Quartz soldiers. Made for a rather intimidating appearance, more often than not. "Yes, sir." She addressed him accordingly, dismissed promptly with a wave of his hand as he left for the solid, spiral stairwell, having to reload a map of the building once again, since he'd only been up there once, and that was a while ago...

The commander was hesitant to press his hand against the pad, moderately surprised when it had responded to his print and allowed for the doors to slip open. Did he do that, too? He was still left to wonder just how he'd managed that manner of communication, since he didn't think he'd had that sort of thing happen before - all of his messages so far were in the form of verbal communication, often on live lines or messages left for him to hear and not promptly respond to. Now, he was aware of this sort, which he supposed could be useful in moderation; blinding him momentarily obviously was a downside, though most of that could be contributed to the complete and utter confusion. He let the other two leave before he allowed himself in the room, the doors shutting in automatic response once his presence crossed its sensors to indicate he was inside. Burnt eyes quickly zipped about the room, a common reflex to survey the situation at hand, noticing only minor changes. He hadn't gotten a good glimpse of the room before, anyway, though his attention was immediately pulled away by the topographical map projected by the holoboard, along with markings for defensive and offensive maneuvers and current notes as well as coordinates and updates being displayed in respective text boxes alongside or below the central map face.

The question concerning current...issues with their offensive movements made his jaw clench with dissatisfaction, though he briefly admired the fact that he wasn't beating around the bush with the fact that their long-range tactics left something to be desired. The proposition left at hand, however, did make his scanning of the plans overhead pause, eyes stopping and lips halting their movement, as they had been silently mouthing the words left upon the screen in repeat. He remained quiet for a good while, never taking his eyes from the map as they began to dart around again after a few moments of stillness. He seemed to be thinking over something entirely different than he had been before, making new plans and routes, as well as dismissing others. He wasn't very convinced, given the knitting of his brows and the hardening of his two-toned lips into a thoughtful frown, though he still seemed to be considering it.
"And what are you expecting to see once you get out there?" He asked after a while of silence, the air having fallen still in the moment of waiting, "You are aware of the risks, right?"

Then, he came to snort just after the latter question, amending himself with a, "Of course you are. You didn't run off." He better not run off at any point in time, be it from this base or even from their metaphoric survey team, which didn't exist as of that moment, but was currently in the process of being assembled. Not without authorization, and even then, he'd never be permitted to go alone, with always at the very least one experienced Quartz soldier to be at his side, ready to shatter first.
Pyrope supposed he could understand and, therefore, entertain the technician's suggestion.

"I will be considering it. Tell me, do you think we should leave within the cover of night, or the full alertness of day?" Pyrope's eyes finally tore from the screen to Jet, blinking once as they questioned with innate curiosity. It was a test, more or less, but at the same time, he did want to know his input. He was the one asking, after all.

[/fancypost][fancypost bgcolor=#151515; border: none; width: 470px; height: 15px; padding: 0px; font-family: verdana; color: #e6e6e6; font-size: 10px; line-height: 20px; text-align: center]template by[color=#6e6e6e] #punki-chan[/fancypost][/fancypost]

[align=center][fancypost bgcolor=#1c1c1c; border: 5px solid #151515; width: 470px; min-height: 300px; padding: 0px; padding-top: 20px][fancypost bgcolor=; border: none; width: 470px; height: 60px; padding: 0px; font-family: baskerville old face; color: #8A0808; font-size: 40px; line-height: 40px; text-align: center; text-transform: uppercase; letter-spacing: -4px; text-shadow: 0px 0px 2px black]pyrope .[fancypost bgcolor=; border: none; width: 470px; height: 20px; font-size: 20px; line-height: 20px; text-transform: lowercase; letter-spacing: -1px; margin-top: -8px]every wound will shape me; every scar will build my throne. [/fancypost][/fancypost][fancypost bgcolor=; border: 3px solid #151515; width: 500px; height: 20px; padding: 0px; background: url(http://bestanimations.com/Natu…e/fire-animated-gif-4.gif); margin-left: -18px][/fancypost][fancypost bgcolor=#151515; border: none; width: 470px; height: 27px; padding: 0px; font-family: verdana; color: #e6e6e6; font-size: 10px; line-height: 24px; text-align: center]agender masculine || military general || pink yellow diamond || beta kindergarten[/fancypost][fancypost bgcolor=; border: none; width: 450px; min-height: 152px; padding: 10px; font-family: verdana; color: #a4a4a4; font-size: 10px; line-height: 12px; text-align: justify]

The fiery-eyed of the two in the room hummed his agreement softly once Jet had finished, having simply stood by to fully face the taller technician once the holoboard had flickered off, leaving for him nothing else to train his gaze upon other than the one he was referring to, himself. Once Jet delivered his proper input and explanation behind the decision, he nodded in understanding, eyes shutting briefly as he nodded his head once. "We do have a lower chance," He came to agree on the monochromatic Gem's explanatory statement, though it was clear he were to continue his thought, expectantly in rebuttal, "-though the difference of frequency between night and day attacks are nearly minuscule. Just letting you know, so I wouldn't get all cozy." It might've sounded just the slightest bit bitter, or something akin to such a tone, though it wasn't intentional - Pyrope often tended to just sound like so when confronting professional matters. It was something he didn't catch, and therefore, didn't strive to fix. "Though, I will ensure your protection. Not a scratch." It sounded like a promise, if not a statement in all of its own, like a fact instead of some sort of declaration. It was his duty, anyway. His manufacturing, coding, and training wouldn't allow room for error, wouldn't allow that he do otherwise. It was what he was made for, though that may have applied to him in particular, or a few select Pyrope Garnets, those chosen to fight rather than weld and create.

His head turned upon hearing the slightest of commotions outside the room, though it seemed like Jet was already headed for the door to investigate. An automatic thought was to insist that he check first instead, though he dismissed it, as the commotion did not at all sound threatening or remotely harmful. He did still peer out though, bending slightly at the waist to look outside, eyes immediately catching the duo in the corridor. Odd how they were on the third floor...looking for someone? He supposed he'd have to confront them and ask, though he didn't remember an expected arrival, exactly...then again, he hadn't gotten around to touching those few voice messages left for him over the span of two day/night cycles, the notification still popping up now and again to remind him, often at the most inopportune of times. Just didn't have the time.

He listened mutely to Jet as he stepped from the door, removing his cap and pushing long, nimble fingers back through his hair. The simple action had made a cranberry eyebrow raise, if only slightly, hardly noticeably. Call for me when the group leaves, he'd said last, which made Pyrope frown just a smidgen before his lips fell stoic once more. He couldn't quite put his finger on what might've been wrong, if anything were wrong at all, even, but he certainly wasn't going to ask. He wasn't...connected to those sorts of things. Just didn't work with him, couldn't read people as well as he would have liked. He knew how certain Gems acted, often due to prolonged experiences with them, but they never fell into a range closer than acquaintances, co-workers, or trainees, so he didn't know personal things about anyone. It didn't change his automatically protective, fiercely loyal nature to those he was sworn to protect from his beginnings, of course, though it did often hinder his judgment with certain people. He'd never had to understand too much about people - the most he'd ever had to read was actions, and foreseeing/predicting future actions just from their movements, and this was utilized on the field and primarily only there.

Other than that, you could say he was...socially, or emotionally, detached. Whichever of the two applied to the fact that he couldn't fucking read the air as well as he wanted to be able to. You couldn't teach that, could you? You just learned it on your own, he supposed...anyway, he couldn't get what was off with the taller of the two, so he didn't address it, instead giving Jet a brief look of subtle confusion before he simply headed for the door, though he stopped in the entrance, just as it had opened. "Are you not coming?" He came to ask, though the question was softly spoken, not to be heard by others as his head turned in recognition to the referred. He was asking about meeting the two visitors, as he might as well if Jet was to be around for a while - couldn't just be cooped up in his quarters like he had been all this time! - though, he didn't suppose he was going to force anything. Something still felt odd, which was enough of a precursor, even if he didn't know what or why.

// jesus fuck jet don't do that oh my god even i'm swooning hooooo-
[/fancypost][fancypost bgcolor=#151515; border: none; width: 470px; height: 15px; padding: 0px; font-family: verdana; color: #e6e6e6; font-size: 10px; line-height: 20px; text-align: center]template by[color=#6e6e6e] #punki-chan[/fancypost][/fancypost]

[align=center][fancypost bgcolor=#1c1c1c; border: 5px solid #151515; width: 470px; min-height: 300px; padding: 0px; padding-top: 20px][fancypost bgcolor=; border: none; width: 470px; height: 60px; padding: 0px; font-family: baskerville old face; color: #8A0808; font-size: 40px; line-height: 40px; text-align: center; text-transform: uppercase; letter-spacing: -4px; text-shadow: 0px 0px 2px black]pyrope .[fancypost bgcolor=; border: none; width: 470px; height: 20px; font-size: 20px; line-height: 20px; text-transform: lowercase; letter-spacing: -1px; margin-top: -8px]every wound will shape me; every scar will build my throne. [/fancypost][/fancypost][fancypost bgcolor=; border: 3px solid #151515; width: 500px; height: 20px; padding: 0px; background: url(http://bestanimations.com/Natu…e/fire-animated-gif-4.gif); margin-left: -18px][/fancypost][fancypost bgcolor=#151515; border: none; width: 470px; height: 27px; padding: 0px; font-family: verdana; color: #e6e6e6; font-size: 10px; line-height: 24px; text-align: center]agender masculine || military general || pink yellow diamond || beta kindergarten[/fancypost][fancypost bgcolor=; border: none; width: 450px; min-height: 152px; padding: 10px; font-family: verdana; color: #a4a4a4; font-size: 10px; line-height: 12px; text-align: justify]

It been a few earthly minutes that he'd stood there alone, hands folded behind his back with his eyes trained upon the staircase, waiting for that familiar figure to make his way down. The Watermelon Tourmaline at the front desk had sent up a call to Jet's room upon orders, though it had taken her a moment or so, as she had been in the middle of another, unrelated communication. Not many Gems were walking about the central lobby area at this time, huddled in quarters, most likely, or having gone elsewhere, since many of those who tended to the base were those who just came and went- not many were considered of permanent residence, like he was. Well, he wouldn't call it a permanent stay, but he'd been here for a very long while, within this certain facet of the planet, and had been transferred to this base in particular a few solar revolutions ago. Which wasn't that long ago, considering a Gem's infinite 'natural' lifespan, but every day that passed on either went by in a dizzying blur or in a painfully slow drag. He yearned to spend as much time as he could out on the field, though his duties often restrained him to board rooms and training arenas nowadays, since it had been a relatively quiet month or so of activity. It was almost suspicious...left him on the edge of his seat, loathing the qualities of the unknown, the unpredictable future.

Due to the earlier mentioned low-levels of activity, he decided not to waste any resources or needed hands on this simple surveying task around the area. Surely, he could handle it himself? He'd considered acquiring one's assistance at first, and had already had one or two Gem soldiers in mind, though at the last minute he decided against it.
His train of thought had been cut short as he spotted a sleek, two-toned figure descend the staircase he was currently facing his attention upon, the garnet straightening his shoulders accordingly and reciprocating the polite nod of the head as Jet approached. Pyrope said nothing as the other suggested their beginning route and destination, tearing his scrutinizing gaze from the technician as a map blew up upon his visor screen, before shrinking and adjusting automatically to the right corner of his field of vision. The gently-spoken apology concerning the abrupt messaging from earlier just had the soldier shrug in nonchalance, though the ending statement had him raise an eyebrow. "A bit more than blinding, yes. I should hope you refrain from doing this again while I'm out and away?" He decided to spare further details, simply expecting for Jet to understand what he was alluding to; Jet messaging him in such a manner while he was out on the field, possibly in the heat of battle, where there was no room for mistakes, for distractions. A possibly fatal mistake...he was sure he understood. He didn't seem dim, though of course, he didn't have much to go off of for this one. The information on this particular Gem was surprisingly scarce, which was troubling even then.

He didn't mind the silence that enveloped the two of them as they set out into the dark of the night. The redhaired Gem hadn't quite expected for the sky to have cleared so much in such a small span of time, as earlier the skies had been dense and grey, as if a storm had been brewing, though he could describe the skies now as more of a partly-overcast appearance. The clouds still seemed dull and gray, blotting out sections of the sky above and occasionally drifting over the shining half-moon. He didn't quite...like the night, though he could admire its peacefulness now and again. He just felt stronger during the daytime, when the sun was out and warming the Earth with often-blessed rays of solar energy. He liked being able to see, to watch out for oncoming threats, as in the cover of the night...not only would they be covered from sight, but so would any adversaries that happened and dared to lay their eyes upon them in malevolent tendencies. Thankfully, his visor equipped him with some sort of nightly-vision adaptations, so he wasn't completely blind in the darkness. Couldn't be - couldn't do his job with a handicap of any kind.

So...Pyrope...How long have you been fighting?

The question didn't seem to faze his composed exterior, for he seemed more focused on the ground beneath his feet as they started to descend down a slope, with the calm, moving rush of water somewhere nearby. He didn't seem to be having too much trouble finding footholds, though he certainly wasn't being as nimble as his current companion. "Are you looking for an x-amount of years? Or a generalization of time?" Some loose dirt and pebbles scattered beneath his feet, the loosened rocks scrambling down the rest of the slope, as if in a hurry. With a short exhale, he continued, "When did the Beta Kindergarten in Facet Nine begin its operations... It was shortly thereafter, not very long after I emerged."

The ground seemed to level out once they reached the trough of the slope, though the footing didn't seem to be terribly stable, as the sloping earth made way into a naturally formed stepping stone-esque structure, with rocks of all shapes and sizes laden across the way. The river still ran just over them in some of the lower spots, though the stones seemed to be some sort of damming structure, worn just about flat and smooth from water erosion and shaping. It seemed safe enough to cross, though Pyrope had reason to doubt the stability in some places. Wasn't an immediate danger - if anything, someone could probably just fall and get needlessly damp, seeing as the river was hardly anything more than a creek or stream at this end, narrow and shallow. "There's simply no time for adjustment; you go when they call. I hope that's a sufficient answer."

He wavered for a moment. "And...how long have you been doing what...you do, I suppose I could say," It was a bit obvious he just wasn't one particularly for idle conversation, but he wasn't going to ignore him for the sake of his comfort. "Has it been long since you've completed your training?" Probably, who knows how long he's been around? He wanted to ask more prying questions, though that seemed unsuitable and in ill taste.

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