It's a little bit pride, a little bit clinging to something familiar in a strange world, and a lot of discomfort with the way human weapons are so...well, it's one thing to splat someone that has access to a respawn platform, or even to splat them in a time of war.
But there's something about this whole city, this whole situation, that feels wrong in a way Eight can't define in words. The underground domes he grew up in, the sunny city he adopted as his home, or even between tests in the underground metro...
It was safe. Not all the time, but there was always a safety to go back to. Now the only safety he can eek out is in the ink.
"I have tricks. I can hide myself in ink puddles...humans don't seem to know to look for me. It's good for ambushes."
no subject
It's a little bit pride, a little bit clinging to something familiar in a strange world, and a lot of discomfort with the way human weapons are so...well, it's one thing to splat someone that has access to a respawn platform, or even to splat them in a time of war.
But there's something about this whole city, this whole situation, that feels wrong in a way Eight can't define in words. The underground domes he grew up in, the sunny city he adopted as his home, or even between tests in the underground metro...
It was safe. Not all the time, but there was always a safety to go back to. Now the only safety he can eek out is in the ink.
"I have tricks. I can hide myself in ink puddles...humans don't seem to know to look for me. It's good for ambushes."