After the terrible, albeit brief, bout of mortality Murmur was more than ready to get off of Navi and back on something resembling solid ground. The situation by which that happened was unfortunate, but at least they were back in the right bodies and he didn't have to worry about Richard blowing up the ship or causing some other unfortunate disaster. Of course, being stranded on a desert planet with Navi damaged was a disaster all on its own, but not one insurmountable. Or so he expected.
The careful optimism all but vanished upon discovering exactly what kind of planet they'd been stranded on. Of course it had to be one touched by MindsEye, and of course it had to be in the throes of robot-themed despair. Worse yet, robots designed as a disgusting mockery of angels. Murmur had been content to go along placidly enough until he caught sight of the group's leader.
Then he was gone. Well... not really gone. He'd retreated to a stack of rubble and debris to perch and observe the goings on not unlike a territorial cat. Perch was not a metaphor, he'd found the most precarious point he possibly could and was indeed balanced on his toes, curled in on himself in a posture that would be uncomfortable for any human to maintain for long. The generally neutral if faintly puzzled expression had been replaced by one of faint disgust and intense wariness. This did not bode well and they should leave immediately.
He didn't want to get involved and very pointedly had distanced himself from any conspiratorial conversations about collecting pieces of weapons or what have you. These were mortal affairs and mortal business and he would have none of it.
Murmur | OTA
The careful optimism all but vanished upon discovering exactly what kind of planet they'd been stranded on. Of course it had to be one touched by MindsEye, and of course it had to be in the throes of robot-themed despair. Worse yet, robots designed as a disgusting mockery of angels. Murmur had been content to go along placidly enough until he caught sight of the group's leader.
Then he was gone. Well... not really gone. He'd retreated to a stack of rubble and debris to perch and observe the goings on not unlike a territorial cat. Perch was not a metaphor, he'd found the most precarious point he possibly could and was indeed balanced on his toes, curled in on himself in a posture that would be uncomfortable for any human to maintain for long. The generally neutral if faintly puzzled expression had been replaced by one of faint disgust and intense wariness. This did not bode well and they should leave immediately.
He didn't want to get involved and very pointedly had distanced himself from any conspiratorial conversations about collecting pieces of weapons or what have you. These were mortal affairs and mortal business and he would have none of it.
He's absolutely going to get roped into it.