caveofsapphires | 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.

The fourth day, it was Famine's turn to be a little bit cranky - something he never really dealt with before he was suddenly... human. He was tired (which was strange). Annoyed (which wasn't at all strange, but still negative). He didn't appreciate this feeling of being shuffled along, especially through somewhere like this. Well, on the one hand, the sight of a land in ruin was always a welcome sight in his eyes. But, on the other, he was experiencing this as a powerless human and was seriously on the edge of lashing out at someone instead of maintaining his normal cool. It was... very uncomfortable.

But amongst all the ruin and the nothing and the broken scenery all around them, he did spot that intact thing in the distance. It was too much of an anomaly to ignore. He wondered how it managed to survive whatever had happened here however long ago, but he didn't feel the need to ask. Besides, it's not like any of his pilgrimage companions would know.

He nodded in its direction, then pointed, and turned to see if anyone else was looking. "There may be something worth seeing over here," he offered, voice slightly raised just to get anyone's attention.

"Agreed, but it may also be infested with whatever has survived. Are you willing to risk it?" Doul doesn't speak all that often and when he does, he prefers to keep his voice pitched low and quiet. Still, he not only sounds confident, but appears comfortable traveling at a good speed and looks as if he might be some use in a fight.

“Risk can bring reward, you know,” he returned, somewhat testy. It may as well have been a challenge, honestly. It always had been fun to watch mortals squirm.... he just had to ignore that he was one now. Of course, he still had very little sense of risk. He’d only been human a short time after all. … He didn’t concern himself with it.

With that, he started toward the mansion, looking over his shoulder to see who would follow.

Surely there's some Bas-Lag equivalent to teaching your grandmother to suck eggs, perhaps teaching a Cactacae to turn to the sun or a Scabmettler to bleed. Either way, it's a safe bet that it's what Doul is thinking as he follows Famine towards the building.

Though he was usually content to travel in silence, the barren landscape and the fact that it seemed like it was never changing inspired Sable to actually speak up.

“So, what do you think may have survived?” he asked, genuinely curious. Maybe this man really had some specific idea.

"With luck, a cart." Something with wheels would make their collective progress easier and allow some of the slighter travelers a bit of rest from their packs.

"With our luck, a cart covered in mass of grindylow limb-farmers," he says not bothering to hide the distaste in his voice. Doul can tolerate the grindylow, but he will never understand their appreciation for fleshcrafting.

Aziraphale had made a point of keeping an eye on Famine since the start of the pilgrimage. He knew on some level that the likelihood of him posing a real threat was low, because - well, he would be human, too, wouldn't he? Probably. And that was where Aziraphale became uncomfortable, because "probably not a Horseperson of the Apocalypse" really wasn't good enough for him, not in a wasteland surrounded by people of varying degrees of helplessness.

If there was a meaning to their presence in this world, too, he couldn't figure out how Famine would fit into it. He wasn't a - a person, per se, he was a construct, and therefore wouldn't be given an afterlife, because - what life?

In any case, he'd stayed just far enough away from the man to hopefully avoid suspicion, while staying close enough that he could intervene in some way should a spontaneous Apocalypse sprout up at Famine's feet, or people started losing an unusual amount of weight. What he would do about it if something did occur, of course, he hadn't the faintest idea.

Glancing in the direction Famine was pointing, Aziraphale frowned. Would he go that way? Would he even be interested enough to investigated? Aziraphale wasn't sure. It was so hard to read him, although he got the feeling that was not a new phenomenon.

The probably-not-a-Horseperson-of-the-Apocalypse, while often very perceptive, wasn’t entirely sure if the man he caught staring at him every once in a while really was staring at him that much, or if he was just imagining such. He hadn’t felt the need to bring it up yet, and he honestly didn’t see a need to do so now. He had other things to worry about, after all.

But, that didn’t mean he couldn’t speak to him at all, since he was pretty sure that doing so would make the man jump. And that was entertaining, to say the least. “What do you say? Should we go look?” He paused, considering. “It could at least be a place to rest. It isn’t too far out of the way.”

It had been a good prediction; Aziraphale did jump, a bit, although he steadied himself quickly and tried to maintain an expression of calm interest as he turned to Famine.

Oh, dilemmas. He should go. He really should. But he was tired, and this seemed like some sort of adventure, or something, and why should they detour when the compass was pointing the other way?

Then again: rest. Then again: rest in the company of him. Blast.

Aziraphale hemmed for a moment, and then gave in to curiosity. "We might as well," he said, skin itching slightly at the fact that he was including himself in a 'we' with Famine, and began walking at a weary pace toward the mansion.

And with a nod, Sable went as well, forcing himself to move in a manner that would not give away just how exhausted he truly was. Like hell was he going to show any signs of weakness. He knew that while the mansion wasn’t too far out of the way, it would still be a good walk to get there. He just hoped everyone else wouldn’t slow down enough that it became no longer worth their time.

For his own part, Aziraphale made very little effort to conceal his own exhaustion and discomfort. Really, the more vulnerable he was thought to be in this particular interaction, the better it would be in the long run, although, to be honest, he wasn't acting even a little bit. His feet felt like lead. He wondered idly how people did this sort of thing for fun, ran marathons and things. It seemed masochistic.

He did end up having to speed up a bit to catch up with the other man, who was walking at a more normal pace. This was a golden opportunity to find out more information about Famine, or whatever he was currently calling himself.

Now if only he could figure out how to approach the issue subtly. Asking "What happened to you after the Apocalypse?" seemed a little bit incautious.

smaller patch of fading sky [ open ]

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

so your tag definitely made me lol ♥

I do try, I do.

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject