(no subject)

[initiates]

Date: April 1st
Location: The Initiative Hold & Courtyard.
Characters: Everyone.
Summary: New Transports arrive and are shuffled into the Courtyard after their initial briefings.
Warnings: None.

You've just been hustled and bustled through mazes of information and literal, wide corridors of the Initiative Hold and you've been equipped with your weapon—be it a gun, a sword, or even your existing powers. They've handed you this light netbook and a small pouch of coins (or a debit card, if you're more inclined), and there are several Transports before and after you going through the very same motions. You can hear the Greeter's voice as she walks alongside large groups, telling them all about the history of this place and sharing with you your purpose here in a hurried and urgent tone. "You're in luck that we have enough rooms for all of you; the housing building is getting awfully full. Please, let me show you into the courtyard."

You pass what looks like huge gymnasiums, all with dummies and targets strewn and splayed around the room. Training areas. There are even classrooms, and a few small offices. You're rushed past a large library while the Greeter informs you that you can find almost all your information there, if you've got the time to look—and trust her, you'll have time. You don't spend a lot of time in the bank, and it's a bit of a blur of exchanges with more and more of these strangely-accented and oddly polite-seeming members of the Initiative.

Soon enough, you're in a massive courtyard bustling with all the other Transports. It's not exactly what you'd expect, and it looks more like barracks than anything—huge walls of concrete and stone, separating you from all of the hallways you'd just passed through. It's raining heavily, and dark clouds loom in the air, though it hasn't turned to snow. It's a chill cold, and there are shelters—long cloth hangings that extend from the walls of concrete to house you from the rain, but not enough. Most notably, the courtyard is filled with a marketplace. Even in the cold and the rain, there are several citizens seated at their covered booths and tables, bundled up against the weather. They're selling all manner of their own handmade goods and foods, and citizens and Transports alike are traveling from one small covered shop to another in search of all manner of necessities.

The Greeter's voice has become so faint now, but you swear you can make it out in the back of the crowds as she tells you, "Good luck. Be safe!"

Her voice is drowned out by the busy marketplace, though even the transactions taking place are somewhat subdued. Nobody is overly happy, really, though most citizens can be found with smiles on their faces. It doesn't seem like they're that shocked to see you, either; even if you're not bound in tattered rags and wrapped in heavy shawls as they are. You're welcome to walk up to a shop, and find yourself something to eat—hey, maybe you'll even find something akin to a raincoat. Or, you can join the others under the coverings against the walls. Where am I? What war? She was talking so fast, and it didn't all make very much sense… did anyone else catch it all?

Welcome to the courtyard. Welcome to the Initiative Hold—and most importantly, welcome to Exsilium.

Comments

OPEN

[swamtofrance]

War. Carlisle had lived through wars, had seen people being sent back to the states injured and without much chance of recovering us of limbs or missing some. He’d never tested his restraint in a war, all the blood spilled during them, and he hadn’t expected to end up doing so now. At least Carlisle knew that the scent of human blood didn’t affect him anymore, like with others of his kind.

The Greeters voice, quickly as she talks, makes no difference to Carlisle. He’s spoken much more quickly (and quietly) to his family before. His new debit card was carefully tucked into his wallet with his other cards, family pictures and several twenty dollar bills, tablet tucked into the pocket of his lab coat and then he’s outside in the courtyard, rain falling down on him and the others here. Perfect weather. For him anyway. And as she splits off, leaving him with only a message of good luck, Carlisle looks around to get an idea of just what he should do now.

First thing on his list was to, hopefully, find some kind of hospital or clinic. He was a doctor after all, with a couple centuries of medical practice. Not a soldier like Jasper had been, or eager for a fight like Emmett always is. Second was to find out how long exactly he’d be here. Carlisle didn’t like leaving his family too long if he could help it.

[agodintheopen]

Lestat hated the infirmary. The blood they fed him was synthetic, and any blood they used for transplants was off-limits to him. Still, it was a pleasant environment for one of his kind; cold, occasionally dark, and more importantly, dry. He had met other vampires here, sure, but not one like Carlisle. And certainly not a doctor.

Actually, it was a brilliant choice of career for a vampire; all the access to vulnerable mortals he could want, some of whom were going to die anyway. Of course, it was risky, as well. Doctors were often on-call, which means they could be brought in to work at a moment's notice depending on their patients, including during the day.

Naturally, Lestat has yet to encounter a vampire from this particular universe. In his? It was far more risky.

"It's about time" Lestat greeted, just as he was about to receive a package of synthetic blood. He didn't exactly like it, but after the incident with Lucy, he was going to lay low for a while, at least until he found a more willing 'donor.'

"And a doctor. Really? I don't suppose you passed your own physical with flying colors?"

[swamtofrance]

Synthetic blood. They certainly hadn't gotten that far back home, for him, and he hadn't abused his ability to get sources of blood before. He didn't plan on it either and his family was on a strictly animal blood diet anyway. Perhaps the Volturi might better appreciate the irony of his career choice with Lestat?

Carlisle entered the infirmary and made himself familiar as Lestat greeted him, careful to go at a normal human pace so as not to bring any suspicion onto himself. And then that comment.

"Beg pardon?" Completely innocent.

[agodintheopen]

"Another one that hides. That's disappointing," Lestat answers disapprovingly, just he rips open the unit of blood, letting it fall into a cup he had procured that looked just a little too much like a beer mug. Hey, it's Exsilium. He can't have a fancy, shiny, golden chalice.

"I'd take up my own profession, but I have yet to find anyone who would be worthy of performing on stage with someone like me."

[swamtofrance]

The casual way he drinks the blood, so openly and as though it's completely normal to have a mug full of blood, almost makes Carlisle cringe. Sure, he's used to the way that the Volturi live, proud of their immortality and embracing their human diet but they didn't act like this. It was... different. Different in a way that Carlisle wasn't entirely sure he wanted to experience.

Of course, none of this shows on his face. He's had several centuries of experience in training his expressions, in learning to hide what he is from other people. His only comfort for the moment is that the Volturi isn't here to chastise him.

"How exactly do you know what I am?"

[agodintheopen]

"Do you think I wouldn't know another of my kind when I see one?" Lestat asks, almost insulted by the question. He can tell Carlisle isn't exactly comfortable with the situation, which is rather disappointing to Lestat. For the life of him, he'll never understand why so many vampires choose to hide what they are, when mortals clearly think they're just the coolest thing ever and are willing to throw money at him just to see him perform or hear his stories.

His ego just loves being stroked like that.

"My name is Lestat. A pleasure to meet you, doctor."

[swamtofrance]

"You don't exhibit the same characteristics as vampires that I'm familiar with." His voice lowered as he spoke, lips barely moving, in case there were anyone near enough to eavesdrop. Even so far from home, Carlisle was painfully aware of the rules that the Volturi had set down for their kind.

"Carlisle Cullen, a pleasure to meet you." In direct contrast, Carlisle didn't like to have his ego stroked. He liked to try to be as human as he was capable despite how often he and his family had to move and how little contact they had with humans whose subconscious told them not to draw to close.

[theboywhodied]

Cedric has had a bit of a rough morning. He's weary from the last few days of battle, taken the message from the false attack on the city seriously, and started a more intense round of training. He's taken a beating in the training room, and by the time he steps out there are thin lines of blood trickling down his arms from a few scrapes.

He knocks on the side of the doorway, calling to the unfamiliar doctor. "Excuse me---I was just wondering if you stocked gauze here? I slipped in my training. Don't worry, nothing serious, I'll be on my way in a minute."

[swamtofrance]

While he'd been alone, Carlisle was quickly searching the infirmary to familiarize himself with it. As the scent of blood hit him, Carlisle slowed while he waited for the source to reach the room. Setting a couple things back in their cabinet, Carlisle turned to greet him and answer but froze.

It was only for a moment, barely noticeable to human eyes, but he did. It was Edward. It was his son but... He was bleeding? And he didn't smell like Edward had back in Chicago. Quickly, he cleared his throat.

"We do but you don't mind if I take a look, do you? Better to be safe than sorry."

[theboywhodied]

"Yes of course, Doctor."

Cedric entered, easing his way in to avoid hitting anything. The wounds looked worse than they were, honestly, but he'll stop and get to know the staff. That might be helpful later.

"I don't think I've seen you here before."

[swamtofrance]

Carlisle grabs some gauze and peroxide from one of the cabinets, then a few cotton swabs and walks over to join Cedric. He can smell that his injury isn't serious but Carlisle always preferred to be careful. Especially with what he saw here already, he wouldn't chance infection setting in.

"I just arrived today, actually. I'm Dr. Carlisle Cullen."

[theboywhodied]

Cedric sits on the patients' table, looking down to assess the damage. Small bloody patches showed through his t-shirt---wow, he'd misjudged that knife. Good thing it was a thin graze. His protection spells and quick reflexes had kept him on his feet, but that didn't mean it didn't sting.

He rolls his shirt over his head, then shivers and speaks. "Cedric Diggory, sir. And you're this settled into your job already? You must be really eager to work."

[swamtofrance]

"A pleasure, Mr. Diggory." He chuckles at the addition comment as he grabs a pair of gloves, more for the comfort and concerns of others than for any worry for a blood-based infection of any sort.

"I've always loved my work, helping people when they're hurt, saving lives. Ah-! excuse how cold my hands are." He's checked the cuts on his chest now, making sure there's no dirt of anything.

[spongetastic]

Peter was getting the hang of new people coming in every month. He took a break from offering umbrellas or extra jackets to the soaked newcomers to stop in at the clinic. One never knew when a new face would arrive with injuries. He was about to grab his medical bag when he noticed the new face.

"Oh, hey. Ah... Sorry, I don't think I've seen you in the clinic before."

[swamtofrance]

"I imagine not. I arrived only a couple of hour ago." Carlisle looked up and smiled, a light laugh escaping him.

Sure, he had made his way to the clinic more quickly than other doctors might have but this was where Carlisle belonged, helping people. He felt more comfortable with the situation if he went right to what he knew and did best.

"Dr. Carlisle Cullen. Pleasure to meet you..?"

[spongetastic]

"Peter Petrelli, paramedic. It's a pleasure to meet you, doctor." He reached out to shake the older man's hand. "I mainly work the night shift; I hope I'll be seeing you around."

[swamtofrance]

Carlisle extended his hand and gave Peter's a firm shake, smiling and nodding at the introduction. Paramedics were good to have in a place with war. He couldn't help but wonder how many in the medical profession were here in comparison to soldiers too.

"A pleasure, Mr. Petrelli. I'm sure you'll see plenty of me, I'm used to hectic shifts."

[spongetastic]

That was actually why Peter chose that particular field. That, and it seemed like a good fit with all the abilities he could use along the way.

"You can just call me 'Peter' if you want, sir."

[swamtofrance]

"Only if you'll call me 'Carlisle'."

Unless they were in front of patients, that's how most of his co-workers referred to him. Which was fine, he thought it encouraged a more friendly work environment. Definitely something that he wouldn't mind being encouraged here, where the diversity of people being brought to fight had different moral and social code or tended to be stubborn and hide even the most simply of treated injuries.

[satsujinki]

Everything was off to a bad start. Shiki longed for darkness and for blinding light in the same sort of way. Whatever kept him from seeing the lines helped and though he would have worn his burial shroud to keep everything out of his sight, the noisiness of the city didn't help him get around too easily. He stopped himself in the street just as he reached for his glasses, hoping the strength of his eyes would have dwindled a bit during the day to let him wear them and block out the death he saw all around him.

Though, he felt his heart skip a beat the moment he raised his eyes. Right in front of him was a creature that shouldn't have existed, Carlisle stepped into the street and though he would have otherwise looked perfectly inconspicuous to most, Shiki's eyes could scarcely be fooled. The presence of death was less abundant on him and above all else, his Pure eyes could see the supernatural world around him. He hesitated at the sight of a vampire during the day, his stride coming to a halt. Though Shiki was generally more polite, it was tough for him not to stare.

[swamtofrance]

For a while, Carlisle was completely unaware that he was being watched in any particular way. People stared at times, that was normal for his family. Unnaturally pretty but giving off a sense of danger that humans couldn't recognize yet still reacted to.

When he did though, he turned a curious eye to the young man. He certainly couldn't tell anything unusual about him, it was a gift Carlisle lacked. Perhaps Edward might but he son was, thankfully, not here.

"Is everything alright?" He finally asked.

[satsujinki]

The blood finally seemed to stop rushing to his head and his vision turned less aggressive. The lines wouldn't disappear easily, but what he could suppress with some practice was his instinct to attack. Shiki smiled, albeit with a wavering presence. He felt dizzy, though from his weakened body and anemia rather than the desire to lunge out. The man standing before him wore such a plain and humble presence--there was no way he was comparable to a Dead Apostle.

"It's nothing," He waved one hand, breathing out a tense sigh. "I get dizzy and zone out every once in awhile. It's nothing big. Sorry I was staring, though."

[swamtofrance]

"I don't mind the staring, I've had coworkers that couldn't help it until they found out I was married." Heh. Oh, but that wasn't exactly the best way reassure the doctor. Really. Worry lines appeared on his face and he approached Shiki at a regular pace until he was just a couple feet away from him.

"Do you have anything to help you with that?" Things not to do: worry a doctor. Things done? Worry a doctor.

[satsujinki]

Briefly, Shiki felt himself seize up--yet, he didn't. Suppressing his urges had been something that would come and go with the passage of the day. He wouldn't have been able to make it blindly through the European country-side if he were incapable of dealing with inhuman oddities once in awhile. As Carlisle closed in, he reached up to touch his collar bone, letting out a relaxed breath.

"It's anemia," He replied somberly, looking at the ground for a moment. "If I sit down or lie down awhile, the spells lessen. Otherwise, it's nothing I can really deal with."

[swamtofrance]

If only Carlisle had his sons gift for reading minds, to know what patients would hide or know when he was making someone uncomfortable. It would make his job easier and make it easier to blend in among people. Of course, that could be done so long as Edward was around but the problem was that he was usually in school. Or with Bella.

"Do you know the cause? Have you undergone any treatments for it?" The look warranted some concern, lead the doctor to think that he probably hadn't had any treatments for it. Of course, that was in hand with how he mentioned 'dealing with it' which was saddening.