caveofsapphires | smaller patch of fading sky [ open ]

smaller patch of fading sky [ open ]

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.

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

Mal had seen bleak. Mal was intimately familiar with bleak. This was somewhere entirely past bleak.

She'd taken the weapons and the compass and the silly goggles and the sunscreen; she'd listened to the impromptu - what was it - stun gonne demonstration; she'd wondered if she should perhaps have stayed and looked around more - but the only way out was through, supposedly, and the more answers she found in the near future the better.

There was dust in her teeth already. She grimaced and raised a hand lazily. "Are we going, then?"

Oh, Garrett had seen bleak-- in the form of death, destruction and not knowing how the future will unfold. He lived through bleak with the eyes of the boy named Hope.

He supposed that he can do it again, the knife feeling heavy but almost familiar in his hand. The stun gun however... Guns were far larger in Cocoon and Pulse. But he knew how to operate one, take it apart, clean it, and put it back together, ammunition, barrel and extensions and all.

"I suppose we shall be going if we want to get anywhere."

"Oh, good." Setting her teeth, Mal pulled out the compass again. Apparently it would show them where to go. She was, of course, not thrilled to be taking direction through a wasteland from a compass that didn't even know how to point Hubward, but it didn't appear she had a lot of choice.

Still, the way forward was fairly intimidating. She allowed herself the briefest look back to the entrance of the Cave. At least she wouldn't burn in there.

Oh, well. Onwards and forwards, she supposed; someone had to do it. With her most practiced saunter, she slipped past the man who'd spoken and headed into the wilderness - but not so fast that she couldn't be caught up.

He took a look at his own compass to make sure that she was actually on the right path, before taking after the woman in a brisk jog.

As Hope, he hadn't done this for quite a while. Sure, he can still play within his mind how he'd flipped open a switchblade for the first time, and even used a gun as an adult when the monsters got far too close for comfort during one of his expeditions... But he didn't know if Garrett did. They looked alike, but the way the bodies had grown up were different.

... Anxiety was a horrible, horrible thing, he decided, and pushed all thoughts out of his head in favor of surviving each moment.

"I'm Garrett. Garrett Ross."

Since they would be stuck together for the journey, he thought that he might as well learn her name in case he'd need to yell at her to duck or something similar.

She couldn't help her feet falling into a steady march. It was habit by this point. And while the weight of the knife in her pocket was reasonably comforting, she still remembered very clearly telling Jackrum that she had no idea how to use weapons because vampires didn't need them. Well. She had very little idea what was going on with this body, but it wasn't the right one, and she was very sure she wouldn't be able to rip anyone's head off in the near future. Perhaps she was being punished for hubris, ha ha.

She turned to the man who'd caught up with her. Oh. Were they going to be pleasant and friendly during this trip through the wilderness? She gave him her toothiest, most charming smile. "Milena Tichý - " apparently, she didn't add. "A pleasure, under the circumstances."

Garrett gave a small smile of his in return. "Well, it could be better."

Could be worse. But he'd gone through several places before as Hope, with an assortment of people, so he knew he could do this. They could do with a few more people though, considering there were a few more of them that he could see-- strength in numbers and all that.

How he wished for his magic now. The knife and gun were good and all, but he preferred and missed his magic, but he knew there was no way to retrieve those spells unless he got himself branded again.

"Of course it could be better," Mal said, thinking: Left, right, etc. This is harder on sand than packed dirt. "But we could also be on fire, or two feet tall, or it could be even hotter than it currently is, so on the whole I'll take what we've got."

This, of course, did not mean that she wouldn't complain down the road. Long marches were one thing, but she wasn't used to them under quite these conditions. She sort of wanted to unpack her backpack and check on the bag of coffee beans that she knew she'd squirreled away before they'd left, but that would lead to odd questions, so she readjusted the pack and tried not to think about it.

Re-l spent the first fifteen minutes breaking in her stride, accustoming herself to the weight of the pack on her back and the feel of the gun on her hip. It wasn't Awakening, but it made her feel safer.

Ahead of her the road stretched endlessly into the distance, dusty and barren. Scenes of the world beyond Romdeau came one after another. They weren't so different, and that made her afraid. She squashed her fear down irritably, focusing on each step, on the measure and pace of it.

It occured to her at that moment that she'd been matching steps with another traveller for some minutes. She glanced to her right and took in the short-haired woman. They weren't close, and she decided her actions probably hadn't been noticed, but Re-l still drew her hood a little closer around her face.

These empty places took away her voice.

A good try, but movement tended to catch her eye. Mal turned her head curiously, appraising the woman next to her. Hm. Young, sort of tense-looking. Interesting, but then anything would be out in the middle of nowhere.

She allowed her stride to edge left until she and Re-l were walking next to each other. "Scared of the sun?" she drawled. It was only half a joke. She was fairly worried about it herself.

The sun. It was dim, only faintly there, but still brighter than anything Re-l remembered from her dreams.

"Not used to it," she said, and part of her couldn't help adding, with more than a little sarcasm, "I suppose it was all that time in the cave."

She took another look at her walking companion, and noticed that the woman had the whitest skin she'd seen in years. Maybe ever. Paler than her own colour, which was colourless enough. Pale enough to be albino, if the dark hair didn't contradict that.

"Does it bother you? Are you allergic?"

Once Re-l had a problem in mind, nothing would make her let go of it. That hadn't changed from one world to another, and likely it never would.

"Yes, it does take some getting used to after those gaudy crystals." She grabbed one wrist behind her back and let her stride relax slightly. This wasn't the army, regardless of what her body seemed to think, regardless of the fact that it was, well, a forced march. She could stand to pace herself a bit.

"Allergic? No. Not as such." Tilting her head, Mal looked forward again and smirked. "Although yes, it does bother me. It's a family trait." How relevant the family trait was remained to be seen. She wasn't burning yet, and after this time she should be feeling some effects.

Maybe they hadn't been lying. Maybe she really was human now. Wouldn't that be a turn-up for the books.

It was relaxing to walk, and to be using her body properly. The tension that had been trapped in her shoulders since she woke melted away a little, and for the first time in over a week she felt that she could breathe. The horizon stretched endlessly before her, bisecting the world into a shallow bowl of earth and a huge sky. The clouds that moved over them were endless variations on the same theme, now allowing the sun to warm her and now shadowing it, so that shivers ran down her spine. All in all, it was shaping up to be a good day.

"Family? Is that here or there?" Re-l glanced around to see if she had been overheard, but the group was streched out over a large distant, and the tramping boots cut off echoes. Still, she moved slightly closer to her new companion.

Mal hopped over a crack in the ground, grinning a bit at Re-l's question. "Oh, don't worry - I hardly think we're being watched here," she said conspiratorially. "Authority hates getting its hands dirty. Or, in this case, dusty."

Still, she leaned in closer, her voice sinking to a whisper. "There," she said, "if by 'there' you mean in the glorious land of dreams." She straightened up and glanced sideways at the other woman, her voice returning to normal. "I wasn't told much about my family here." From what she had heard, they sounded unpleasant. She wondered idly if they had 'survived', if she would be expected to pretend to know them, then dismissed the thought. She'd get to that when she got to it.

Re-l nodded.

"That's certainly true, but I can't discount spies. The level of technology here seems somewhat inconsistent, and that could mean danger."

"Still," and she shrugged, "there's nothing we can do about it. Information is worth the risk."

The doubts that had been nagging at Re-l unceasingly reared their heads again. Her life story matched her personality and her dreams remarkably well, considering. Could she really be sure that it wasn't true?

Far off blue on the horizon caught her gaze, and for a moment her eyeshadow mirrored the sky.

"It makes more sense not to," she said, focusing once more on her companion. "The stories have to be plausible, and the more intricate they are, the harder that is." Her eyes flickered to the energetic woman beside her. "It's odd. There was a time, in the other world, when I was trapped in dreams, or something like a dream. Dreams within dreams within dreams, or something even more complicated?"

A hawk cried out far above them, and Re-l tilted her head up to catch a glimpse. The creature soared over her head, wings firmly outstretched, a solitary creature, without the need for names or identities or uncertainty. Re-l couldn't help but be a little jealous.

"My name," she said, "is Re-l. They call me Masa, here, but I'm Re-l, really."

Mal hunched her shoulders, playing it off like she wasn't listening very closely. In fact, she was quite interested, even as she looked off into the distance at those odd glass shards. The odd thing, of course, was that she was not certain what they were risking by discussing this. Certainly something frightening enough to account for the workforce's threats, but there had been no real way of getting specifics without - well. Getting them hands-on.

"Well, of course," she mused. "No sense in making a lie more complicated than it needs to be. Although they did tip their hands a bit when they put up penalties for disagreeing." It reminded her of home, although of course she knew what the penalties were for going outside of the norm at home, and had ignored them. It was easy enough to decide what rules do and don't apply to you if you can frighten the makers of said rules into leaving you alone.

She smiled, displaying perfect teeth, and stretched out a hand somewhat awkwardly as they walked. "Mal. Milena, if you prefer, but I don't."

In the empty shapes of the wasteland shadows of the old city could be seen. Re-l took them in with empty eyes, seeing and not seeing, half-mistaking them for the old bones of her own world. It was a pattern that could only be seen from above, and as the wind picked up a little, catching her hair and spreading it thickly around her, she thought of the Cenezon. Vincent and Pino were somewhere. She had to believe that. She would fight for that.

"It's a clever trick," Re-l agreed. "Nothing keeps people off balance like a lack of surity. But it leaves them open, too. There's one thing that's obvious from the vague threats. They won't do anything permanent to us. If they were willing to kill, they would have made that explicit. It would be more effective."

She shrugged her shoulders, which were stiffening a little from the weight of the pack, and fumbled for the water on her hip. The dust was a demon here, coating her tongue and throat, and water was too precious to keep washing it away.

"More effective, but it would ruin the ruse, as well. That we've all just woken and all of this is for our own safety." With a quick look at her companion, she pursed her lips. Would Re-l draw the same conclusions that Mal had? That they were important in some way? Although perhaps that was simply wishful thinking. Perhaps she had gotten used to the illusion of being important. Shouting at scared little boys and girls to stand up straight and walk like men got into your bones after even a short while.

Mal shrugged, mimicking Re-l's movements, and let herself fall back into a march. It was easier - old habits. She patted the weight of the knife in her pocket.

Were they actually meant to stay alive through all of this? It was paranoid, surely, but she couldn't help but wonder . . . out here in this emptiness, half of them untrained and half of them, like her, trained wrong, for somewhere entirely different. She wondered if she could die of things like thirst, now, and decided firmly against testing out any theories.

"I hadn't thought of that." Re-l combed her fingers through her hair. "But why tell us that unless they need us for something? You only keep people safe if you have a purpose for them."

She had fallen into Mal's gait again, and it occured to her that it was a marching walk. Military, or merely police? There were so many questions to be asked. A cloud passed over her, and she shivered, a bead of sweat caught in the hollow of her back. She was beginning to feel the edge of hunger in her stomach, a tightness that warned against the future.

Something caught her eye, and she glanced to the side. It was a half-buried ruin, the fragments of an old dome. A hundred times to small to ever have been Romdeau, but the echo of her once home made her very nervous.

"What kind of place was your there?" she said, a hint of urgency in her voice. "Was it - did it look like here?"

"Well, who says they don't need us for something? Just because they haven't said anything yet . . . " Mal smiled sardonically. "I'm sure they'll let us know when we can help."

Wiping her brow, she grimaced at the sky. She'd kill for a breeze at the moment. It was so - still. Hot. Oppressive. It was as though she was being pressed in on from all sides. She almost wished for a Borogravian winter. It would at least be refreshing for a brief few minutes before making her want to hibernate.

And speaking of - "No," Mal said ruefully. "It was cold. Lots of mountains. Tremendously dreary, though, so no differences there. Yours?"

Re-l nodded. Trusting people had never been her forte, but Mal was appropriately distant, and obviously very clever. Her mouth crooked up almost unconsciously.

"Indeed. Although in the what they want us for might be the most worrying thing of all."

The sun creaked slowly towards the horizon, like a clock winding down with agonising slowness. It was just beginning to become irritating, high enough to be bright and glaring, but low enough that it was slanting into her eyes. She turned her head slightly, which brought her gaze back to Mal.

"It was like this, and not like this," Re-l said. "Colder. Darker. More people, but in worse condition. Everyone had a sameness that's totally missing here. Most of the people I've met could never have come from the societies we created." She kicked a pebble with her toe, watching it roll away across the sand.

"What anyone wants anyone for in a place like this is worrying," Mal retorted. "Not to mention the fact that we really have no idea where we're going, or what we'll find when we get there." It was an effective tactic, now that she thought of it - holding back just enough information to keep everyone off balance.

Re-l's next comments made Mal terribly curious for the first time in this conversation. She perked up slightly, paying close attention to Re-l's words and movements.

"When you say 'created' . . . " she said, hoping for more information. Interesting choice of words. Very interesting.

Mal's words were simple, but they made Re-l aware of something she'd been ignoring.

"We might have one strength they're not counting on," she said, as coldly as she could. "Each other. I'm not foolish enough to think there's much chance of all the Sleepers being friends, but we could at least pool our information."

Re-l sighed, and found it prudent not to mention that friends were something she'd never really understood. All it ever seemed to mean was complications.

She didn't want to dwell on that, and answering Mal's question was enough to provide a distraction.

"It's a long story," Rel said, "and even I don't understand all of it. My world died, you might say, a long time ago. Like here. There was a disaster, and more than a disaster. Eighty-five per cent of all life was wiped out. Humanity created some failsafes, though. One of which was a race of superhumans. Proxies. Designed to replenish the earth. And they in turn created their own peoples. Pseudo-humans like me."

Re-l bit the ball of her thumb savagely.

"I expected to find the crack in my story there. I'm completely infertile, after all. But they even accounted for that. Apparently I was sick as a child."

The infertility didn't bother her. She'd never wanted children. But the completeness of the illusory life she might have lived gnawed at her mind.

Mal scoffed quietly. She couldn't help herself. "Sounds simple enough, but look the collection of us." Gesturing broadly to the scattered group of people slogging through the sand, she raised her eyebrows. "We've got to communicate if we're going to pool our information, right? How would you organize this communication? It's not as though we're very well connected, or like each other, or have remotely similar experiences. What's the starting point?"

She had to admit a bit of shock at Re-l's admission. All of it was odd, but the discussion of her infertility struck Mal as uncomfortably personal. Not to mention completely out of Mal's area of expertise.

With an unusual amount of tact likely borne of discomfort, she averted her eyes from Re-l's face. "They pick up on strange details, apparently," was all she said.

Re-l grimaced.

"Don't look at me. But the less we talk, the easier their job is." She paused. "Whoever they are."

Tired as she was, Re-l felt energy coursing through her. There was only one thing worth finding in this desolate place, and she would find it. The truth. No matter what it took. And if she did find it, she might also find them. Pino. Vince.

The sun beat down on her face and neck, and she wiped away the sweat with a sleeve.

Re-l caught Mal's twitch, and watched her carefully. She had always had trouble with people, but even she could tell she'd said something wrong. She just had no idea what.

"Yes. If it is a story - if this isn't true," the and I don't believe for a second that it is was left unsaid, "then they know about our pasts, inside and out. Which is strange. Impossible."

Re-l sighed. She really was getting uncomfortable.

"I wonder what time it is?"

"Well, then." Mal stretched, hands clasped together above her head. "Let's talk as much as we can while we can. No telling what's coming."

For some reason, she had no real illusions about finding anyone she knew. Maybe it was because she wasn't all that close to anyone, not on any sort of deep level. There was no one she knew well enough to confide in, certainly. Having Polly around might be comforting simply because she knew Polly knew what she was doing, but they would not be having any heart-to-heart conversations.

Anyway, hoping would likely be futile. It was a big, empty world out here, and Mal had herself to worry about at the moment.

Making a face, she let her arms fall to her sides. "Intrusive. I'm sure there are things about their lives they don't want everyone knowing. Rude beyond belief." She was only half-joking. Honestly, she was perfectly fine with people not knowing who she'd been before she'd become a Black Ribboner. It was embarrassing.

Glancing at the sun, Mal calculated automatically. Assuming the sun worked the way hers had . . . "About four?" she hazarded. "Roughly."

smaller patch of fading sky [ open ]

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