smaller patch of fading sky [ open ]

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WHO: EVERYONE. All PCs thus far will be in this log, through active tagging or implication.
WHAT: THRILLS. SPILLS. Hiking trip toward the Diamond City.
WHERE: The Overworld.
WHEN: Forward-dated to May 1st (Tuesday) through May 7th (Monday).
WARNINGS: May contain violence or other mentions of physical harm. This is not summer camp.
NOTES: More information can be found on the OOC post here. Please read it!

Gathered in the morning haze, Sleepers were brought to the mouth of the Cave with plenty of supplies and equipment. Compasses that would point them toward the City. Backpacks full of clothes and food, medical kits, tents and even weapons. Stun rifles and knives — to fight off any unwanted company, they said. ("Watch out for their bite," Ryan had commented. "Those fuckers are downright feral.") The straight and narrow path would get them there in six days if they kept a good clip. They were sent off just like that. Refusals to leave were met with a wall of guard force officers blocking the entrance back into the cave city. No way to go but forward, unless someone was particularly stalwart about remaining.

From the exterminator's station near the mouth, leaving the Cave was as simple as a short hike upward into the fresh air of the Overworld. Dust and an uncomfortable sort of heat pervaded the atmosphere, light winds stirring up the sand and teasing the meager bits of vegetation that had grown. No matter what direction you looked... it was all wasteland, cracked ground and desolate emptiness. Jutting up from scarred ground were boulders and small spires made entirely of glass and patches of stone; instead of reflecting the harsh sunlight, they seemed to absorb it and only add to the muted loneliness of the atmosphere. As far as the eye could see, there was no life to be found.

With no other option, the Sleepers eventually made their way onward.

| Day 1: Calm

| Day 2: Animals

| Day 3: Sandstorm

| Day 4: Mansion

| Day 5: Thomp

| Days 6&7: Long way

Comments

Day 3 (May 3rd)

[resetbutton]

What was that? Not the cry of a wild cat, but a gust tugging at your legs and ready to knock you over. It roared from the west, building up speed and ferocity, until all that could be seen was a wall of sand racing toward the group from the far distance.

Run, Sleepers. Run faster than the storm about to engulf you or search for shelter. Make it to the crevasse, or buffer yourself with the scenery, or look for some sort of third option. Do not get caught out alone.

[tartanisstylish]

Aziraphale was ready to give up by the third day.

Not that he was proud of it. Not that he would. But had someone stopped him for a moment his legs would have given out and he would have dropped to the sandy ground. He wasn't used to being tired. He didn't like being tired.

So when he felt - and saw - the oncoming storm, he briefly passed a hand over his face - Someone needs to give me strength - before looking around wildly for some sort of shelter. There was a crevasse not too far distant that looked reasonably promising, but could they get there in time?

He gestured wildly at those who were closest to him. "Look, try in there - over there, do you see it?" he yelled over the rising wind. "Get out of the open!"

And then, hesitating, looking over his shoulder in hopes that others would follow, already second-guessing that his idea was even safe, he ran.

[delightme]

He had gotten over the oddities of being fully human the first night, learned how to handle his frail body in a fight the second day, but nothing had prepared him for running in pure fright. It was quite possibly the worst emotion he had ever experience; the knowledge that this was one thing he couldn't fight against, that his option was to run. It didn't agree with the deep-seated instinct to stand against the force of nature and clash with it. As an angel, he had been fascinated by Father's nature, but as a human, well, mother nature could sod right the hell off.

He didn't question where Aziraphale was running to, just following. For someone so exhausted, he ran like a track star.

[tartanisstylish]

Adrenaline was such a lovely and terrible thing. Aziraphale made it to the gap in the rock in record time, skidding to a stop just inside the lip of it. When he saw Balthazar coming, he stepped aside and made room, despite the fact that, if he had chosen a cowering companion, the likelihood of it being Balthazar would have been very low. While it was (had been) his job to have compassion for all creatures, Balthazar had laughed at him several nights ago, and as a result a very small, very unangelic part of him (the part that was not terrified by the oncoming storm) relished the look on Balthazar's face as he ran.

Hot on the other man's heels came the storm, and Aziraphale closed his eyes briefly against the wind. This was so unnecessarily unpleasant.

[delightme]

"Just bloody lovely," was all Balthazar managed to get out before the beast of a storm made its way over them like a freight train. For the first time in, maybe, ever, he flinches slightly at the howls of it. This is quite possibly the worst day of his life, not counting the whole dying thing, but it's pretty close to that. Balthazar heaves a relieved sigh when he knows they're safe (for now), the tension in his muscles slowly bleeding out.

He managed a glance at Aziraphale, smirking despite himself. "I would say thank you, but you honestly look like you would rather I just leap back out into the storm."

[tartanisstylish]

Squinting out at the storm, Aziraphale didn't register Balthazar's words at first. Instead, he was torn between marveling at the strength of the wind - even being trapped in it, it was magnificent - and hoping it would end soon. The air was close in here, and the sound of the wind echoed off the stone walls.

When he did realize what Balthazar had said, he turned to the man quickly, schooling his expression into one just slightly more pleasant than neutral. "I don't know what you're talking about," he said, and it was mostly true.

[delightme]

An eyebrow was raised at the rebuttal, but Balthazar let it go. Instead, he drew his legs up, put his arms over them, and put his head down for a moment. The noise outside was a little dreadful, but eventually it all drained into the same, static background noise. Enough to relax him, anyway. Eyes closed, breathing evening out, he could fall asleep like this. A nap would be harmless, right?

"I should've picked a better meat suit to parade around in." The statement was mostly to himself, the exhaustion suddenly settling in.

[trickntreats]

"You have got to be shitting me." Gabriel groaned. Oh, he kind of liked storms. He just didn't like sandstorms. Of all the natural weather phenomenon, this one, he felt, was exactly like Raphael: abrasive, oblivious, and never-endingly the same hour after hour.

He turned tail and ran for the crevasse, losing sight of his brothers as the wind picked up around him and threw sand around. It wasn't easy; he wasn't a very fast runner, and it wasn't long before there was an almighty stitch in his side and his chest burned.

Shit. Shit. This is why smart humans exercise in proportion to their sugar intake, you idiot.

The sand scoured his face; his eyes were protected by the goggles, but he held his arm up to protect the rest of it. He'd lost sight of the crevasse, and it felt like his heart jumped wildly all over his chest even without the exhaustion. Not just fear, but terror. He could do without it.

"Hey!" he shouted. Or rather screamed. The sand got in his mouth and he coughed. He had to be close to the crevasse; he just couldn't see it. He just needed a direction. "HEY!"

[brightblueeyeshadow]

Re-l was several metres ahead of him when she heard the shout. She turned and recognised the man she had met several days earlier. She couldn't say she was happy to see him: he'd put her back up without even trying, yesterday, but when she heard the panic in his voice, she knew she had to help. He had been clever, he might be useful later.

She wasn't as fit as she had been, but she was still strong, still tough. She covered the distance easily, her hood pulled up against the stinging sand, and knocked into him, drawing close enough to shout over the lashing wind.

"Have you hurt anything?" she said, coughing against the sand. "Do you need help?"

[trickntreats]

The supply depot chick materialised out of the sand so suddenly it would have made Gabriel jump if he hadn't had other considerations. Instead he wrapped an arm around hers to keep them together and support each other against the growing wind. Though it was probably more a support for him. He had never exactly bothered to work out as an archangel, because it wasn't necessary, and it never occurred to him as something he should do as a human. He was regretting that oversight now.

"I lost sight of the ravine!" he shouted, keeping his mouth protected with his arm. He was still squinting through the sand, cursing his human vision. "Hope you've got better eyes than D--God gave me."

[brightblueeyeshadow]

The sand was blinding, and Re-l's were close to shut, but her sense of direction hadn't failed her, and she was used to walking in darkness. Gripping the man's arm she moved forward, step after step, buffeted by the savage wind and the vicious sand.

"It's over here," she said, and she wasn't sure if she was reassuring him or herself.

Then there was a tilt, and a bump and Re-l fell several feet into shocking silence, pulling her companion with her. Little particles of sand still whipped in, but the ravine was protected by a deep overhang, and for the first time in minutes, she could really breathe.

"We won't be going anywhere until that settles down," she said, coughing.

[trickntreats]

Gabriel yelped as gravity abruptly took hold and the archangel landed with an oomph on a pile of sand. Their weight made the edges cascade downward, and Gabriel's hand slipped as he tried to push himself up with a groan.

"Not what I was thinking of, but I'll take it," he said, and also coughed, tongue working against the awful gritty feeling in his mouth. He grimaced, fumbling for his water canteen and touching his face with a wince. The sand and wind had started to rub his face raw, and they'd just been on the edge of it. "Those storms always looked so much better from above."

[brightblueeyeshadow]

Re-l stood up slowly and pulled off her coat, shaking it away from her. Sand poured out of the lining and the pockets, whirling away into the ravine. When she was finished, she shrugged it back on and sat down. Her skin was still stinging from the storm, but she felt moderately more human.

"I am going to need a bath when this trip is over," she muttered. "No, five baths."

Her attention eventually redirected to the man beside her, and when she heard what he said, she couldn't help but be interested.

"Everything tends to," she said. "Lack of messy details. Were you a pilot?"

It wasn't subtle, but then she wasn't really in the mood for subtle.

[knifedances]

It was only day three and already his body ached in ways he hadn't known possible, the harsh environment and tireless trekking forcing him to endure hardships he would never have conceived of in his 'dream' life, and now this had happened, the rising storm swiftly gaining ground on them, bringing a sharp spike of a fear he was unaccustomed to feeling piercing through his chest. Not even the general fear and panic of those around him could be enough to bring him any sense of comfort right now, not when his own life was so very clearly at risk.

It was tempting to simply drop the pack that he was currently encumbered with, lighten the load and make it all the easier to flee, but providing he survived this he knew he wouldn't last long without the provisions they'd been provided with, and so he maintained his hold on it. He was fast, very fast, something that had saved him from the threat of danger many times in the past, and despite his body's exhaustion he at least knew he could continue to rely on this ability now. Eyes focused on the crevasse in the distance, he began to run.

[deshabille]

It wasn't that she was unused to bad weather. Borogravia's climate had been a third blizzards and a third torrential rain. What Mal was not used to was sand, and as she ran she winced at the way it stung at her forearms and her face. Sand flew down the back of her shirt and caked in her eyelashes, forcing her to squint helplessly towards a distant crevasse, the only shelter she could see.

By the time she made it to the lip of the crevasse, her skin felt raw all over, and she stumbled inside with a rare lack of composure, gasping for breath and looking curiously at the man who'd entered with her.

[knifedances]

He was now feeling glad of the advice he'd received from one of the other Sleepers the day they'd set out on this unpleasant excursion, that he'd kept his face partially wrapped in cloth; he'd been able to avoid the worst of the damage, and while his skin still stung in all areas the sand had been able to reach, it could have been much worse.

He stood leaning with his back against the wall of the crevasse, his own breathing still just a little shallow and rapid from the bad dash to reach cover. After a moment he glanced in her direction, however, pulling the cloth from around his face in order to offer her a small smile.

"You made it, then. It should be safe enough here until the storm passes," however long that will be...

[deshabille]

"Ideally, yes," she managed, gingerly rubbing the skin on her face, already sensitive from the sun and now raw from the assault of sand. Edging away from the entrance, she gave up on style entirely and collapsed onto the ground, leaning her head against the stone.

"Of course, given our luck thus far, it'll last days," she added, and let her head loll to the side so she could give him a sardonic grin.

[knifedances]

A grin that he returned, small and sharp, and seeing her all-but collapse to the ground he allowed himself to slide against the rock behind him until he was sitting with his back pressed against it. It was a far cry from anything he'd ever experienced before - or at least, ever remembered having experienced before - accustomed as he was to urban living and the relative comforts that came with it. He was tired, every part of him ached, and each day it seemed they were faced with some new difficulty, as she had so aptly pointed out.

"Ah, I wouldn't be surprised. Though if it forced us to stay here and rest a while, I'd be lying if I said I wouldn't welcome it," though there was the small matter of just how long their supplies would last, but right now there was no point in thinking about it.

[deshabille]

"A rest would be astonishingly welcome," she agreed. "And some time out of the sun." With a few blinks, she got most of the sand out of her eyelashes, then shook out her shirtfront onto the floor of the crevasse. A small sand dune formed; with a sigh, she pushed it off into a corner.

"I've decided I hate sand," she added conversationally. "And sun. And walking."

[inequal]

Ever since the day before, since Ken's injury and subsequently slower pace, since he had started to move distances without moving so much as trying to move, Liam had been very deliberate about how he stepped. It wouldn't do to keep phasing all over the place without any idea how to control it properly. This wasn't like how he did it before, back when he had reason to be popping in and out on a whim.

So, he walked carefully. The wind kicking up around them was enough to catch his attention early and he huddled into his windbreaker... and noticed the sound from behind them. "Shit," he muttered, hand automatically going to grip at Ken's arm while stepping to the side and getting ready to move as quickly as he could. It was the panic that shattered his concentration and the next thing he knew, he was through the empty space and stumbling over the ground several yards away, without Ken, and...

... that was a cliff. That was definitely a cliff he was sliding toward. A short one, relatively speaking, but when its face was apparently made of glass, the perceived distance shot up dramatically. Liam rolled down it and crashed to the bottom with an oomph. He rocketed to his feet and started yelling upward before he could even notice the safe haven several yards off to his left: nature's makeshift shelter of a wide glass spire meeting with the edge of the cliff at an angle to form a very crude sort of tent.

"Ken! Ken!" Despite the clock ticking against him, he desperately reached around for footholds on the sheer surface to try and get back up. As the search turned more and more futile, he began to mutter, "Fuck, fuck, bloody fuck, this couldn't have come at a worse time...!"

[itemfinder]

A headache (or habit) somehow always seems worse after a reprieve. As glad as Chivy was to be feeling anything resembling normal, it would have been nice for things to change at a point that wasn't already at less than optimal fun levels. As the wind started to pick up, he pulled his shirt up over his face (wishing, for one ridiculous moment, that he had a scarf like Sefton's) and started to run. He almost fell when he heard someone shout to his left, trying to turn without dropping in speed.

"What? Are you okay?" he called, trying to be loud enough to be heard both through his clothing and over the rising wind.

[inequal]

"What do you think?!" Liam yelled back, an automatic and frenzied response. This was not good. None of it was good and he was at a loss because he was alive again, yet desperately wished not to be, if only so he could do anything worth a damn.

He pressed his forehead to the glass, one arm raised to cover the side of his face in an attempt at blocking out the rapidly rising dust and sand in the air. He was right on the verge of panic, breaths coming in short coughs and starting to hurt. Liam couldn't breathe, Ken was out there injured and alone—and was it mentioned that he couldn't breathe?

[itemfinder]

Chivy had never gotten a handle on why people would respond like that — because, honestly, if they were irritated because the first question was a waste of time, their response wasn't exactly helping either. Not much would be helpful short of stopping the dust storm or finding something to block it with.

It would be nice to think that the glass would provide some kind of barrier to the dust storm, but it just seemed to be in the way of getting anywhere. Looking around quickly, Chivy noticed the overhang and pointed its way. "Over there! Come on."

[inequal]

Coughing harder as the seconds ticked by, Liam forced himself first to look at Chivy to see where he was pointing, then to follow the gesture. At least he didn't need to worry about getting anything in his eyes... He bent over halfway, hand covering his mouth as his legs threatened to give out. Yet another reason why being alive was a stupid hindrance right now and why couldn't he figure out how he was doing that teleportation thing now that he needed it? Maybe he would die (again) from his lack of breath and that would be that.

This clearly wasn't going to work very well, and Liam knew it. He used his free hand to wave widely toward the slanted tower of glass and hoped the other man got the point. He'd follow if he could, but waiting for him would simply be a bust.

[itemfinder]

Chivy shook his head, not bothering with trying to argue it, and went over to try putting an arm around Liam to help propel / support him. The situation wasn't under debate — Chivy wasn't getting to safety by himself. He would apologize once breathing wasn't quite so complicated.