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magitech
[ Hunk is overwhelmed.
At first, it was in a good way. It's still in a good way! It is! Just... He can only relay the exploits of Voltron so many times, can only scrape so many details from his memory to convey, can only answer so many questions before he's just emotionally tired. And now that feeling is fighting with all of the other stuff twisted up in his guts, a mix of the usual anxieties coupled with brand new ones, courtesy of Earth's invasion and the battle they'd just finished.
He's afraid to leave his parents, which feels shamefully childish when he thinks about it. He knows it's not true, but... If he leaves them for too long, what if they're not there when he gets back? The security of their current situation, of being home, feels almost like it can't be real. What if he makes some sort of wrong move, and everything stutters and stops?
(He tries to tell himself that this is impossible thinking, but... Bob. That felt really real. And it was, in a sense, maybe? At least the current climate isn't a game show.)
Eventually, though, his need for some form of meditation wins out over illogical fears. He excuses himself after dinner to go check on the lions, which... There's Garrison-sponsored studies going on around them, now, but the Paladins are still allowed access without much comment, save for the occasional question concerning their ongoing recovery. Since it's later in the evening, though, anybody else attending the area's gone off-duty for the day.
Well. Most everybody. Pidge's current work area, a table littered with tech parts and a laptop or three, parked at the Green Lion's feet, is currently occupied. That's fine, though. Pidge is part of what he's grown into in his time away from Earth. While things here feel ill-fitting and tense, falling into the habits they kept in space feels like a natural remedy, and Pidge is pretty low-maintenance. They've sank into long bouts of silence over work plenty of times, and it stopped being uncomfortable a while ago.
He holds up a hand in greeting as he approaches, figuring he'll at least say hello before he pretends to tend to something with Yellow. With scores of people around them now and so many things to catch up on and things that need doing, they haven't seen each other as much as they're all used to. It's... weird. Just another thing that feels weird. ]
Hey, Pidge. How's it going?
At first, it was in a good way. It's still in a good way! It is! Just... He can only relay the exploits of Voltron so many times, can only scrape so many details from his memory to convey, can only answer so many questions before he's just emotionally tired. And now that feeling is fighting with all of the other stuff twisted up in his guts, a mix of the usual anxieties coupled with brand new ones, courtesy of Earth's invasion and the battle they'd just finished.
He's afraid to leave his parents, which feels shamefully childish when he thinks about it. He knows it's not true, but... If he leaves them for too long, what if they're not there when he gets back? The security of their current situation, of being home, feels almost like it can't be real. What if he makes some sort of wrong move, and everything stutters and stops?
(He tries to tell himself that this is impossible thinking, but... Bob. That felt really real. And it was, in a sense, maybe? At least the current climate isn't a game show.)
Eventually, though, his need for some form of meditation wins out over illogical fears. He excuses himself after dinner to go check on the lions, which... There's Garrison-sponsored studies going on around them, now, but the Paladins are still allowed access without much comment, save for the occasional question concerning their ongoing recovery. Since it's later in the evening, though, anybody else attending the area's gone off-duty for the day.
Well. Most everybody. Pidge's current work area, a table littered with tech parts and a laptop or three, parked at the Green Lion's feet, is currently occupied. That's fine, though. Pidge is part of what he's grown into in his time away from Earth. While things here feel ill-fitting and tense, falling into the habits they kept in space feels like a natural remedy, and Pidge is pretty low-maintenance. They've sank into long bouts of silence over work plenty of times, and it stopped being uncomfortable a while ago.
He holds up a hand in greeting as he approaches, figuring he'll at least say hello before he pretends to tend to something with Yellow. With scores of people around them now and so many things to catch up on and things that need doing, they haven't seen each other as much as they're all used to. It's... weird. Just another thing that feels weird. ]
Hey, Pidge. How's it going?
no subject
[ Coming back around, though... Maybe it's that latching onto something analytical is comforting. The Atlas' transformation is a mechanical mystery, after all. Something to really sink their teeth into.
Metaphorically speaking, of course. ]
Do you think Shay and Rax would have any insight? I mean, is it the Balmera crystal at the root of it, as the power source? Or is it more locked into the Altean tech?
Or maybe both. 'Cause, y'know, they're-- [ He claps his hands together, interlocking his fingers. ] Mashed together.
no subject
when hunk mentions shay and rax, and then interlocks his fingers, pidge adjusts her glasses, as she often does when she's considering his advice. ]
It couldn't hurt to ask Shay and Rax. I was also thinking it had something to do with the Balmera as the source of the crystal, and then the Altean tech in the ship and - Allura's crystal that she gave to Shiro, all three of them working in tandem.
[ she'd said it was just a fragment of a balmeran crystal, but maybe it was like the mice - infused with her energy after 10,000 years? pidge hadn't thought of that, and she turned around to quickly type to ask allura about it again. ]
It's hard to tell, we're still working with a lot of variables. But I think you're right that it has to do with it all being mashed up.
And I think part of it is just... the intent. Like how our bonds with the lions help them recharge faster.
no subject
Usually, their lives are in danger when the big guns and extra armor roll out, so it's easy to not question them in the moment. Plus-- ]
I guess it's easier to shrug and blame Space Tech Magic when we're just dealing with Altean-made things. Now that we've tossed Earth into the picture, that... It somehow makes it more confusing.
[ They should be more readily able to decipher Earth tech, but mashing it up with something else has just made it the most confusing. And that thought makes everything feel daunting all over again.
He huffs out a sigh. ]
Maybe I should've gone to raid the fridge. Voltron stuff was bonkers enough before it got a big, baby brother.
no subject
[ that's... a little mean, even for pidge, but she's willing to acknowledge she's more than a little bit grumpy about this right now.
when he mentions food, she sits up, stretching one arm, then the other before she shakes her head. ]
You know, it has been a while since I've eaten. Why don't we both go raid the fridge?
no subject
Aw, Piiiidge. Did you not have dinner? [ He's not the kind of person who can let this stand. He nods affirmatively at the suggestion, already starting towards the nearest route to the mess. ] C'mon. Let's see what we can rustle up.
[ He feels a little wary about nosing through the kitchen, by merit of it still being the Garrison, home of Important Rules. He wasn't above it when he'd been a student, though, and now... Well, they're more than students. They can raid the fridge without much fear of repercussions. Old habits, though.
The feelings fade once he's actually at it, entering the cafeteria-styled kitchen, mostly structured to support large batches, and peeking through cabinets. It doesn't take him long before he's Ooh-ing and Ahh-ing at the things he's finding. He's been away from Earth, from many of these simple things he'd loved, for a long time. ]
Ooh, Pidge! There's mangoes! [ And tinned pineapple, and ground beef, and tomatoes, and rice, and... ] Oh, man. Anything you'd want, in particular?
no subject
of course, he fusses over her having skipped a meal (she didn't, she protests, she just had a protein bar! that's fine!), but she's more than content to follow him to the kitchen.
she has no such qualms about the cafeteria and rules. she's been breaking the garrison's rules for quite a while just by being here. it's nice they've given her an official enrollment and everything now, though. she hops up to sit on the counter while he rummages through stuff. ]
Something with mangos! Really, anything's good, I'm just hungry.
[ hey, a fruit she likes. her heel taps against one of the cupboards. ]
The faux mango chutney you made with that fruit from Movus just wasn't the same.
no subject
[ And pretty much everything else, honestly. It's amazing that they've got to go to the edge of the universe and back, sure, but Hunk probably would've been just as content on Earth the whole time.
The major upside is that they're on the edge of putting out an evil, intergalactic empire, which is a huge upside, but still. Facts if facts. Earth's got the good stuff.
A couple more minutes worth of digging and affectionate noises, and he's settled on what he's going to fix up. Avocados are another good find, and limes, chicken breasts... ]
Grilled chicken and mango salsa? How're you with cilantro?
this killed me because i love cilantro
[ who was left to make one of everything all over, actually? or even in the city? it was an aruptly sobering thought, one that makes pidge fall silent for a moment as she thinks about it.
god, outside of just atlas and the garrison, there'd been so much destruction they had to focus on recovering and rebuilding from.
but he asks about cilantro, and she's never been more grateful, even if she wrinkles her nose. ]
Tastes likes soap to me, sorry. Garnish?
[ she can pick off cilantro. ]
It is soap to me, and that's probably why I remember that this is a thing.
He clears his throat before answering, shaking his head. ] No, um... I was thinking about making it part of the salsa, but it's-- Well. You know. People taste it differently.
I figured it was good to ask before I ruined a meal for you.
[ Would've been crap service if he'd offered to cook then serves up something inedible, huh?
He hums and moves to start, letting the comfort of having a task, of cooking, wash away some of the anxiety that bubbled up at the thought of the invasion.
Pan oiled, over head, knife and cutting board found... Conversation? Good things? ]
So, uh... Matt settling back in alright?