A/C. [Zarkon is not a fan of this emotion-based power system. Technology shouldn't be based on emotion. It should be logical, controlled. It doesn't help that he's been having trouble with it. Yet—at the same time, he doesn't like not being in control of things, so he's making An Effort. This morning, he decided to practice his emotions outside the city. It hasn't gone well. He's making a mess.
A few trees have already been knocked over, and Zarkon's attempts to put them back where they belong have left him covered in dirt and leaves. He accidentally sends out an aggrieved message over the amulet.]
This isn't going to work.
D. Alpha Lava [If there's one person you can rely on to be helpful, it's Zarkon. Or—that's what Zarkon thinks, and he's often right. He is a defender of the universe, after all. So of course he'd agreed to help with these drills. Drills are important; people should know how to react in an emergency.
It had taken Zarkon about 4.2 seconds to become frustrated with the drill.
It had taken Zarkon about 5.36 minutes to start an argument with one of the drill team members. An argument he is currently in the midst of. It's not hard to hear what he's saying. His voice carries very well.]
You're going about this all wrong! Yes, you are. Which one of us has evacuated numerous cities?
[Zarkon, that's who.]
F. On the Clock [Zarkon's not entirely sure how this happened. He's not one for "walking tours", but he'd taken one, because he must learn as much about his current surroundings as possible. Which is why he ended up in the clock shop. Which is why he ended up conscripted and pushed out the door—clock in one hand, directions in the other, bicycle leaning up against the nearest wall.
Zarkon peers at the bicycle. He's supposed to ride that thing? It's flimsy. But he should help—he can't abandon his duty. He frowns down at the written instructions in his hand. They're not very well-written.]
These don't make any sense.
[His irritation, unfortunately, creates a cold wind—which promptly and mischievously blows the paper from his hand.]
Wait, come back!
[Zarkon goes for the paper, but unfortunately, his irritation is continuing to create various breezes and gusts, so the paper dances through the air, out of his reach.]
Zarkon | Voltron: Legendary Defender
[Zarkon is not a fan of this emotion-based power system. Technology shouldn't be based on emotion. It should be logical, controlled. It doesn't help that he's been having trouble with it. Yet—at the same time, he doesn't like not being in control of things, so he's making An Effort. This morning, he decided to practice his emotions outside the city. It hasn't gone well. He's making a mess.
A few trees have already been knocked over, and Zarkon's attempts to put them back where they belong have left him covered in dirt and leaves. He accidentally sends out an aggrieved message over the amulet.]
This isn't going to work.
D. Alpha Lava
[If there's one person you can rely on to be helpful, it's Zarkon. Or—that's what Zarkon thinks, and he's often right. He is a defender of the universe, after all. So of course he'd agreed to help with these drills. Drills are important; people should know how to react in an emergency.
It had taken Zarkon about 4.2 seconds to become frustrated with the drill.
It had taken Zarkon about 5.36 minutes to start an argument with one of the drill team members. An argument he is currently in the midst of. It's not hard to hear what he's saying. His voice carries very well.]
You're going about this all wrong! Yes, you are. Which one of us has evacuated numerous cities?
[Zarkon, that's who.]
F. On the Clock
[Zarkon's not entirely sure how this happened. He's not one for "walking tours", but he'd taken one, because he must learn as much about his current surroundings as possible. Which is why he ended up in the clock shop. Which is why he ended up conscripted and pushed out the door—clock in one hand, directions in the other, bicycle leaning up against the nearest wall.
Zarkon peers at the bicycle. He's supposed to ride that thing? It's flimsy. But he should help—he can't abandon his duty. He frowns down at the written instructions in his hand. They're not very well-written.]
These don't make any sense.
[His irritation, unfortunately, creates a cold wind—which promptly and mischievously blows the paper from his hand.]
Wait, come back!
[Zarkon goes for the paper, but unfortunately, his irritation is continuing to create various breezes and gusts, so the paper dances through the air, out of his reach.]
Wildcard
[Do as you will!]