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

[inequal]

No matter what the Workers had said, there was something breathtaking about seeing the world with his own eyes. It sent a powerful shiver down his spine. Everything... there was no "everything". While the Cave had been strange, foreign and intimidating, this Overworld was vast and something else entirely. It was not home, it was not safe and here they were, expected to make the trek all the way to a City none of them recalled. Anselmo had made one thing abundantly clear: moving backward was not an option.

Abruptly taking in a deep breath, Liam began to cough on the accumulated dust. "Oh, fucking hell," he muttered, patting on his own chest to try and clear the passage. If this was an indication of how the rest of their journey was to go, then they were screwed.

[myfedorarocks]

He was worried. The abilities that he had had in his dream had been just that-- a dream. He didn't have foresight to know things that might help him. It would never be much, but he would have hoped that he would have been able to find shelter at the very least. But he couldn't leave people behind. He was no leader, but he needed to help however he could.

"Can... can anyone defend themselves?" he asked in his quiet voice, uncertain. Twitch certainly couldn't. He still trembled constantly, and his head ached from the stress. But he needed to do something, somehow. His hands trembled too bad for the rifle to be any use at all to him, and he was having trouble figuring out if he could even use the knife. But he was going to try. "I should be able to help with cooking."

[inequal]

Liam turned to give a Look to the one who had spoken up. What he really wanted to do was stop and catalogue what resources the Workers had truly left them with, yet he knew staying still in the heat was no way to be — if not for himself, then for Ken and the rest of the lot. He pulled the stun rifle off from where it hung on the back of the knapsack, keeping it studiously pointed toward the ground and his finger nowhere near the trigger, and shook it for emphasis.

"You don't need to do anything more than point — and shoot with a gun. Don't shoot your friends, don't shoot yourself and don't forget about the safety, whatever you do," he instructed. Years in the War before he had died left him with equal parts healthy respect, disgust and instinct when dealing with a firearm. He did not want to be handling it (even if it really did only stun), yet would not forego the chance at protection because of his own aversion. Liam would deal with his nerves as best he could. "Can't handle it, then don't carry it. We don't need any accidents on our hands now."

[myfedorarocks]

He responded with a look at the man. Did he look like he was capable of holding a firearm? He wasn't even going to attempt. He could use the knife good enough to cut meat if need be, but that was about it. The gun would remain in his pack. He didn't trust the tremble in his hands to even hand it over as he adjusted the pack slightly. "Right," he said, "I'll stay out of the way."

[inequal]

Sighing, Liam nodded and holstered the gun. It hadn't been just for Flemming's benefit, and he hoped the others caught on to what he had been saying. He wrung his hands in his pockets and cast his eyes toward the distance they would need to travel.

"Just stick with the group," he said, giving a quick glance and smile for the man. He couldn't blame him for being frightened, though it looked something more than that. It didn't matter; they were stuck with each other and would have to deal with whatever attitudes or morals everyone held. "We'll be fine."

[myfedorarocks]

"Yeah," Twitch said, nervous. "You're right." He'd just have to make sure that he could protect whoever he could without needing to rely on the gun.

[inequal]

Liam paused, examining the man more closely. His lips pursed, then he breathed in deeply and slowly exhaled. Nothing was out to get them just yet, only the heat, the sun and the sand. He could afford to relax... a little.

"Liam," he introduced. To hell with the Workers. If they were going to kick everyone out with barely so much as a by your leave, he had the feeling they wouldn't march him right back inside for using the wrong name. (Besides, he had plenty of room to run now if they actually tried.) "You are?"

[myfedorarocks]

He gave a bit of an awkward smile. "Nice to meet you," he said, awkward but cheerful. "I don't have a name that I can remember. But the children called me Twitch." He gave a bit of a wry smile at that. It was a little on the self depreciating side to continue to use such a nickname, but he didn't mind. It wasn't as though he really had a name, and Allen Grant sounded incredibly foreign to him.

[inequal]

"Twitch?" he repeated, voice skirting on something between disbelief and understanding. It was hard not to see why. One wrong move looked like it would send Twitch shaking right out of his skin. Moving on from that thought, Liam continued, "Pleasure, Twitch. Mind if I ask what you mean... you don't have a name that you can remember?"

While usually he'd consider that a rude question (and end up asking it anyway), it was suddenly relevant to much more than Liam's idle curiosity. Was it something like what the Workers had done to him only a few weeks back?

[myfedorarocks]

"I don't remember anything," Twitch elaborated. "From my dream. Not a thing beyond a certain point. You can remember your whole life, right? I only remember maybe three months." He spoke uncertainly, scared to say much more in case someone overheard them. "Can't remember my name, either."

[inequal]

Liam could hardly imagine it. Losing his life right out of the blue—not even having it replaced with something else—all of those years of his life and un-life... simply disappearing? Considering who and what he was back home, if that had happened... well, he might have vanished all together. Poof. Just like that. It wound his tense nerves up even further, a sort of anxiousness he couldn't shake coming from multiple directions.

"That must be rough," he said sympathetically. "Can't even bear to think what that'd be like, personally."

[myfedorarocks]

"I was trying to remember before I woke up here," Twitch admitted. "A lot of the children didn't like me," he added, a little hesitantly. He wasn't stupid, he saw the connection. Whoever he was, it was someone that the children feared. It made him afraid to know who he was for any certainty, not that it did much good here.

Especially not if the dream hadn't even been real. "I'll... give myself a new identity here. That I can remember from the start." He rubbed at his wrists, smiling a bit. "Just so long as it doesn't involve using a gun."

[inequal]

Brow furrowing (the children didn't like him?), Liam nodded slowly. He didn't have all of the information for this, and it was becoming increasingly more apparent that Twitch was missing a bunch of the pieces as well — along with simply not mentioning the ones he actually was in possession of. For another time, perhaps.

"Suppose some good has come of all... this," he admitted reluctantly. "Gotta say, that's a pretty rare viewpoint on the situation, though."

[tartanisstylish]

After the initial shock of sunlight and fresh (well, fresh enough) air and the fact that they would be walking for a week, Aziraphale had had the good sense to look around. Catching sight of Liam was no difficult task - they weren't, after all, a very large group - but Aziraphale hesitated to approach him. He kept asking himself why, and came up with several answers.

Because they might have done something worse to Liam than they had to him.

Because it had been his fault in the first place.

Because Liam might not remember any of it at all.

In the end, though, he caught Liam during a rest and managed a "Hello" before realizing he wasn't sure whether to say Sorry or What happened?

[inequal]

The rest wasn't going to last long and Liam was taking the time to sip at his own water while glancing out into the wasteland. It was much easier with the goggles, as they doubled as sunglasses, which was really just one of those little small conveniences that annoyed the hell out of him. Mostly because he couldn't figure out the Workers' angle on being so... thoughtful about their provisions compared to everything else that had happened in the Cave. He jolted out of the reverie to look over to Aziraphale and quirked a half-smile when he saw the man.

His memories of the incident were foggy and only got worse the further he tried to follow them. There was the offer of a meeting, their talk and realization, the guard force showing up. They were cornered, Aziraphale pleading and Liam simply lashing out — literally, in one case. He distinctly recalled throwing a punch and could only guess by the bruise that was now mostly-healed that he had hit something and been hit back. That was where it more or less ended.

"Good afternoon," he greeted sardonically. It was anything but good, after all. "You doing all right?"

[tartanisstylish]

"Oh." Aziraphale shrugged. "I'm all right. Just a touch out of my element." He rubbed his nose and winced. It stung. He must have missed a spot with the sunblock. Although really, who could blame him, it wasn't as if he'd ever used it before.

"I was wondering if you're all right, er, as well. Considering." He shrugged, hands wide, palms up, a touch helplessly. He wondered if the worry showed on his face as much as he thought it might.

[inequal]

Liam tilted his head away automatically, then sighed and forced himself to look back up. "Considering the right load of trouble we got ourselves into... I'm fine. My head's already back on straight. Hell of a lot quicker this time." For Aziraphale's benefit, he grinned and added, "Maybe I built up a tolerance. Wouldn't that be nice?"

[tartanisstylish]

He couldn't help but smile a little at that. "Yes," he said, "it would. Convenient, too." He didn't see it as likely that the more fuss they made, the less they'd be affected by the punishment for it - that seemed overly sloppy for what they'd seen of the authority figures in this place so far - but it was a nice thought. He would hang on to nice thoughts, improbable though they might be.

Was it significant that he couldn't remember much? A girl and a young man, a decent amount of shouting - he'd been sad for her, which in retrospect was ridiculous, but felt perfectly natural. They can't have made him feel it; everything else had worn off.

Breathing in the stagnant air, Aziraphale felt face-deep in an oven. He'd wished for the sky a while ago, but he'd wished for it with rain, or stars, not this horrible oppressive heat. With a sigh, he pulled the compass out of his pocket and fiddled with it, watching the needle spin as he turned it. "Sorry," he added. "For even bringing it up." His lips twisted. "And for not fighting."

[inequal]

Twisting up his face, Liam looked at Aziraphale long and hard before he shook his head. "None of this would have happened if it weren't for those bastards who took us in."

Truth be told, he was exasperated with Aziraphale. Not exactly angry or bitter, but the sort where Liam wasn't entirely sure what to do with the man. Begrudging people who didn't fight wasn't his style, but that didn't mean it wasn't frustrating when they felt bad for being themselves. If this were like old times, he would have disappeared from Aziraphale's view until he had a better idea of what course to take... but that was the entire problem now, wasn't it?

He took another sip of his drink before capping it and putting it away. "If you'll recall, we're both equal parts to blame for bringing it up, anyway."

[tartanisstylish]

Shrugging in acknowledgment of Liam's words, Aziraphale looked away, not sure how to articulate what he meant. If he had, it might not have gone over well. He'd had millennia as a field agent to gain a sense of personal responsibility for humanity, but on a grand scale, never personal. His few run-ins with individuals outside the context of helpful nudges in the direction of holiness had been brief and routine. Otherwise, his interactions had been limited to Crowley and the host. Feeling an emotional connection to a human being was an entirely new experience.

He felt responsible. He couldn't help it. But he was also beginning to feel that perhaps he shouldn't. It was confusing, particularly for someone who'd spent thousands of years in a rigid state of certainly.

"Well." He straightened his back and smiled stiffly, retreating into formality. "It's good to know that you're all right. Hopefully things will be a bit better where we're going."

[inequal]

Oh no, he wasn't going to get off that easily. Liam realized he might not be the most welcoming person right now, but there was something he'd wanted to ask once he realized they were outside the Workers' reach. Something they couldn't punish him for, and something he should have already known.

"Yes, let's hope. Since we'll be travelling together, I ought to ask: what's your name?" he asked abruptly, before the man would get his chance to pull back entirely. "And don't tell me it's John Gates."

[tartanisstylish]

That caught him off guard, enough that he let out a surprised laugh. "Oh," he said, "I never - " He supposed he hadn't.

He glanced up, looking for Famine. The likelihood that the man would recognize him from name alone was silly, it wasn't as though they'd exchanged cards, but he'd caught sight of him earlier and felt obliged to keep an eye out. And it wasn't as though his name could pass for anything but the name of an angel. At least Gabriel could get away with it.

"Aziraphale," he said, "it's Aziraphale," and laughed again, squinting at Liam uncertainly.

[inequal]

Liam raised a brow, head tilted as he took in the name. The paranoia was easy to assume as looking for Workers ready to crawl out of the glasswork instead of directed at any of the Sleepers.

"That's certainly unique," he said after a small laugh. "Me? I've got nothing on a name like that. Whatever the case, it's a pleasure to meet you, Aziraphale." Holding his hand out to shake and make it official, he added, "You already know mine, yeah?"

[tartanisstylish]

"Unique is a word for it, yes," Aziraphale said, his odd laughter resolving itself into a genuine smile. He shook Liam's hand, feeling a certain level of calm returning. "And you're Liam. It suits you better anyway."

[inequal]

"I've always thought so," agreed Liam, studiously ignoring the period of time where he did not. That was over, and to acknowledge it would only leave a sour taste in his mouth. He paused, looking around for emphasis, then smiled. "Looks like we're home free."