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.

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Shading his eyes, Doul stood briefly surveyed the land before him, taking in the sight and trying to match it to anything he'd seen or heard of before. He would know the Scar from a thousand miles away and surely he would be able to feel the Cacotopic Stain leeching his mind away and twisting his body? Perhaps he is further still, trapped somehow beyond Nova Esperium and into the lost lands of Bered Kai Nev. He wonders if when they enter the desert, the ground will be littered with gearships and the chitinous heads of dead khepri women or if the sun and sand have already ground them back into dust.

Since his awakening in the cave, Doul (now Downing) has kept quiet and to himself. There was no great gap between his rising and being pushed out into the desert. They have been armed and while these godspit bastards saw fit to take his engine and sword, he feels confident enough that if the guards did not lie, at least a portion of their team will make it to their destination.

Izaya (or Toshiyuki as he'd been informed he was now named) appeared entirely calm and composed as he surveyed the landscape before them, the outside world they'd been kept from since waking and now all but forced into with only the most basic of provisions. Internally, he wasn't feeling nearly so relaxed and confident as outward appearances would have one believe, however. He may have been stronger than he looked, was capable of defending himself if he had to, but the fact remained that he was accustomed to urban environments and modern comforts; he'd never so much as been camping, never mind found himself forced to survive a harsh environment like the one he now found himself surveying.

He would rather not have left the Cave at all, not without a more convenient means of transport, but it had been made quite clear that he was no longer welcome to remain there; it had been a full month since he'd up, there was no reason for him to stay any longer, he'd been informed. Besides, there was the small matter of his curiosity; the Cave had been stifling with only a limited amount of information available as to their current situation. Perhaps in the City he'd have access to both greater freedom and a deeper wealth of information. Provided he made it there alive, of course.

His shoulders shifted beneath the weight of the pack he was carrying, exhaling deeply as he sought to encourage himself to get a move on. No point hanging around here to burn, after all. "So this is what they've been keeping from us all this time."

"Have you traveled through desert before?" Doul checks his pack for a cloth to cover his face and head with; even if the dust isn't too strong now, it's wise to keep the sun off his head. They have some water with them, but there's no way they'll be able to carry a week's worth and that means either they're not expected to survive, there will be a way station, or one of their number has a solar still.

His lips curled in the hint of a wry smile, turning just slightly until he was better able to see the other man. As far as he could recall, he'd rarely ever even left Tokyo, never mind having to travel through desert. A fact that didn't bode well for him, something he was well aware of.

"Not exactly," and he shrugged dismissively, as though the concern he felt was nominal rather than something that currently centered in his thoughts, "you have, I take it?"

"I dreamt I did, so if you're willing to trust unreliable knowledge, you might want to cover your face and head." It's a touch counter-intuitive, in that it seems as if one would want to keep as cool as possible, but it's necessary to ward off vicious headaches. Ideally, he'd find something dark to put under his eyes to counteract the glare of the glass.

Izaya doesn't even question it, moving to remove his own pack in order to locate some material with which to follow the other man's advice; he fully intends on keeping it close to his chest, not wanting to risk drawing too much attention to himself and being dragged off for 'rehabilitation', but he's disinclined to believe the story they've been fed so far. He doesn't doubt his 'dream' life existed, not even for a moment.

"Unreliable knowledge, perhaps, but it's better than no knowledge at all," and he begins to wrap his face and head just as the other man had before him.

"The moisture trapped will keep your lips from cracking." Losing water in a desert is bad enough, but losing blood could attract whatever is out there. Doul sincerely doubts that the desert is as empty of life as it first appears.

"Downing. Huw Downing."

"I'll take your word for it," he shrugged; it was better than nothing after all, and as things stood he wasn't at all certain he was cut out for a journey like this. He may have been fast, skilled in parkour, and knew his way around a fight if he absolutely couldn't avoid it, but he'd done enough research since arriving here to know that the kinds of things they may run into out in the desert are far beyond his level of expertise; intelligence had always been his forte, not physical prowess. Nor was he unaccustomed to relying on anyone else, but on this occasion he knew he was going to have to get used to it; in all likelihood he'd need the rest of the group if he was going to survive.

"Toshiyuki Kaneko," the name still felt strange and unfamiliar on his tongue, but he managed to say it as smoothly as though it really did belong to him, nonetheless.

After his chat with the Doctor Gabriel had felt the urge to stay away from his brothers for a little while, just in case either one of them had overheard about his stupidity with getting himself rehabbed. Again. He found himself not far from Mr Tall And Dour, and knew, instantly, that the man was some kind of hunter. Or at least a soldier. It was in the way he walked, the way he held himself, the way he held the gun.

He was also new. So Gabriel wandered alongside the man, catching up without making it seem like he was putting effort into it (even though he was). "I don't remember you. New to this little Hell of ours, are we?"

"Downing," he said, slowing his pace to stop and shake hands. There's a moment where he looks to move as if he's going to clasp Gabriel's forearm as a warrior might, but he before it happens he moves to shake hands. He hasn't let it show to anyone, but it bothers him intensely that the wires and gears that were once woven through his arm aren't there; there's no physical discomfort, but the ache remains. "And yes, I'm new."

The first instinct isn't missed, and Gabriel wore a faintly self-mocking smile as he shook, his grip absurdly tight to see how the man would react. And maybe just because he could. "That the name they gave you or the one you had before?"

Muscle memory, even if he's not sure that the form he's in is really his own body, is harder to sublimate than what he says.

"I wouldn't know what you're talking about," he replies coolly as he ignores Gabriel's grip. Yes, it's uncomfortable, but he's endured far worse than a man who needs to prove his worth through a petty show of dominance.

Definitely the stoic type. Almost certainly a hunter. Most likely he'd be fun and aggravating in equal amounts. He released the man's hand and rolled his eyes, hands coming up in a flourish. "You know! Dreaming one life, yanked into another? Pretty sure we're free of the whole 'surveillance' shtick now."

"Pretty sure." Doul doesn't appear to be overly keen on discussing whatever his life was in dreams; either because it's a private affair or because the best disguise, like Downing, is one you learn to live with. It won't be easy to settle into the sort of life his 'real' counterpart led, but he's taken on worse masks and lived to tell the tale.

Gabriel shrugged. "Eh, if you live without risks life just gets boring. So, then! If you're going to be boring, what were you doing before we went into the coffins?"

Judging by how similar backgrounds seemed to be, or at least how similar his and Balthazar's had been to the reality, it might give him some good insight into this guy.

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smaller patch of fading sky [ open ]

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