Screaming like a stuck mynock.

Kazic III, far flung beyond the edges of civilised space, has always had it's own odd spirituality - Superstition and mysticism, finding significance in the most random of natural events, seeing omens in coincidence.

Atton has hated the superstition as long as he remembers. He knows was at least a factor in his people's decision to fear him, and while he doesn't question the wisdom of their choice (that, at least, was made clear in the coming years), it still stings that they took so easily to the idea of a living bad omen in their village, and that they decided so quickly to respond with hate, or at least fear.

On Kazic III, on an island in the middle of a lake, he kneels before a badly put together memorial and runs through the prayers for the dead anyway. He falters frequently, forgets the words, needs to check the datapad Lyman prepared for him, but continues nonetheless. The prayers are sung, low and mournful, to the mess of wood and stone in the centre of the island.

It takes a while. The prayers are long. Throughout his song, it strikes him several times that he's not a religious man, and he doesn't believe in what he's singing, so what's the point of it? He continues nonetheless, pushing his self-loathing down, justifying it to himself, in his head, in several different ways, each more convoluted than the last.

Eventually, he reaches the end, wipes the paint off his face and pads away to the nearby boat.





Technically he should also shave off his hair, but there's no way he's doing that.

Atton is stumbling down the hallway, dragging one leg behind him. He's wearing his sleep clothes, which pretty much consist of a pair of wool trousers, and he's covered in soil. Blood, too, as he seems to be have gashes on practically every part of his body, and the two have mixed together to form some sort of brownish-red paste that masks the wounds and bruises below.

He's not entirely certain where he's heading. It's not down to the bar, but he forgot the actual destination some time back.

Atton left Sam a note, earlier, telling him to come up to his room in the evening. The evening's sort of getting here now, so Atton's waiting outside the door to his room, leaning against the wall.

He looks decidedly smarter than usual, which is to say that he's wearing jeans that don't have holes in the knees, and a t-shirt that doesn't have any patches on it. It was quite an effort - Undamaged, neat clothes naturally reject Atton. It's in their nature.

Jaq has been attaching relatively heavy machinery to furniture.

Specifically, repulsorlifts. The idea is to make floating sofa-islands.

He's been there for a while, now.

Atton's training. Which means he's shirtless and barefoot in the snow, which is usually not a great idea, but is made rather worse by the fact that he's also wearing a kilt.

Despite this, he doesn't seem too bothered. He's been training for long enough that he's starting to get a bit sweaty, even with the cold.

Focus training is very important, see?

Hence why Atton, having sent a note to Will asking him to come find him so that they can actually try going out on a date, is standing on his head. For focus.

Not just because it amused him. Obviously.