Draft Log #3: During v. 2.0

[lucetimods]

Who: Everyone on the draft
What: Day 3-5
When: August 27th-August 29th
Where: ONCE MORE INTO THE-- ...BEACH
Summary: Like it says above. The draftees reach the beach.
Rating: V FOR VIOLENT BEHAVIOUR!!


Once again, That Handy Useful Information Link. Also a link to the previous draft log!

Comments

[markofthewise]

It's a good thing he bit this arm and not your other one. You'd be dead now, otherwise.

[Bleeding underwater in the ocean? Not a good combination.]

[automailed]

No kidding. If I lose any more limbs I'll start looking like a robot.

[markofthewise]

I think it's technically a cyborg. [What? He has a lot of time to read.]

[automailed]

I wouldn't know the difference, we don't have the kind of thing in Amestris.

[markofthewise]

Neither do we. I've just been in Luceti for way too long.

[He cleans out some other gunk from the automail, but aside from some harmless dents, it seems to check out.]

Looks like your arm is fine.

[automailed]

Good to know, thanks. [He gives the arm a thorough movement check, rolling his shoulder.] Feels better already.

[markofthewise]

Want me to check your leg? It probably got the worst of it. [At least, that's his guess, since he had to walk on it underwater.]

[automailed]

Are you really okay with that? [Edward shrugs, pulling off his boot. Sokka's right, though- the whole automail foot is gummed all to hell with muck from the bottom of the ocean. He tries to wiggle his toes and the result is an audible squish squish.]

[markofthewise]

It's a metal leg. It's not like I'm giving you a foot massage.

[Although now he's starting to realize it's kind of gross.]

[automailed]

[Edward lifts a brow, picking away at the muck to try and dislodge it.] Hey, if you want to offer full service, I'm not gonna argue.

[markofthewise]

[FULL SERVICE YOU SAY?]

I just don't want to be the one that tells Winry you didn't make it back because your leg didn't respond fast enough. [She'd probably blame herself. Or Ed.]

[automailed]

I'm less worried about the mud and more about the Shifters. If anything breaks, I've got this. [He taps the bar she'd installed to stabilize his leg.]

[markofthewise]

Well, that's why you should stick with the group after this.

[Sokka will start going over the leg just as he did before. He scrapes off a nasty looking slug stuck on the back of the leg with his screwdriver, grimacing at the sight.]

[automailed]

[Edward peers over, making a face.] What is it about metal that makes them want to cling so badly? That's what, five things that've been pulled off me?

[markofthewise]

Frankly you should just count yourself lucky they aren't elbow leeches.

[Okay now he's just going to start cleaning out the gunk and seaweed.]

[automailed]

Elbow leeches? [That just sounds disgusting.]

[markofthewise]

Yeah. Leeches that go for the elbows. And also the knees, but knee leeches never caught on as a name.

[He doesn't spend as much time on the leg, but all in all it looks to be in pretty decent shape. A little roughed up, but fine otherwise.]

[automailed]

Why the elbows? There's not much bloodflow in a place that's just bone.

[Not nature's smartest creation, clearly.]

[markofthewise]

[Sokka shrugs and gets to his feet.]

I've not exactly studied them. Maybe blood isn't what they're after.

[automailed]

[Well, Edward doesn't care that much, so after that dismissal he leans back, rolling up to his feet and grabbing his boots to walk them over to the shore, intent on washing them and the automail out with cleaner water.]

You've got weird animals on your world, then.

[markofthewise]

I spent almost a year riding around on a flying, ten ton bison. Trust me, I know.

[Now it's Sokka turn to be on guard in case of any attackers.]

[automailed]

...Flying bison?

[Okay now you've got to be screwing with him.]

[markofthewise]

Yes. Flying bison. Does this look like my making stuff up face?

[Hint: It doesn't.]

[automailed]

Like I'd know what you look like when you're lying.

[markofthewise]

... my lying face doesn't look like that. [It tends to be nervous and with lots of looking away.]