exsiliumlogs | (no subject)

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(no subject)

Date: August 1st
Location: The Initiative Hold & Courtyard.
Characters: Everyone.
Summary: New Transports arrive and are shuffled into the Courtyard after their initial briefings. Now with 200% more People-Seeking lists!
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. Now and then around you you might spot paper fluttering in the faint wind from somewhere relatively dry. It looks like a list.

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.

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

Is something the matter?

[ There's a gentleman at her elbow; what resembles a gentleman, anyway. He's clad in the same dark raincoat that most of the locals wear, and has an umbrella. But there's a tall top hat on his head, and rather a lot in the way of lace and ruffles at his throat. And there's distinctly something not quite right about him, starting with the way he's looking at her - or, rather, not looking. ]

By something, I mean in addition to everything, of course.

It's -

[ belle can't help it - she jolts, turning suddenly in the direction of the voice at her side. she takes a moment to catch her breath, peering at the man discerningly. instinctively, she takes a step away; the fact that he isn't looking at her as he speaks gives a sense of disengagement that makes belle uncomfortable, but she tries to keep herself under control, despite the crisis. ]

I have something to do. Something I need to do - I can't be here.

As for that, you have all the time in the world to do what you must...

[ Skittish, this one. He usually turns up in a more dramatic fashion; just appearing is actually tame, for him. But lately, however, he has been trying (with limited success) to be less like - himself. So he stays where he is, leaning on his cane. He does lift his umbrella up and hold it a little towards her. It's a modest invitation to share shelter, easily ignored. ]

Or none at all. It depends on your fortune - and your perspective.

It was fairly urgent. [ she takes a moment to just - stare blankly. normally she's fine with riddles, but what with all the confusion... she does take a step toward him again, recovering from being startled. she's already soaked, perhaps, but the umbrella's nice enough. ]

Is. It still is urgent.

Thank you.

[ When was the last time anyone thanked him for anything? It's an odd feeling. Uncomfortable. He should pull the umbrella back, just slightly, enough so that the rain will sluice off it, onto her back. Which will force her to step in closer to him than she likes, probably. Or get wet. Wetter. Either way, she'll be annoyed with him, which is...

--childish. Ugh. Shoulders stiffening, he keeps the umbrella exactly in place. ]

You have traveled a very long way. Not only in space - but in time. A lucky few return home, by chance, an instant after they left it. Or at least that is what we are given to understand. Whether it's the truth or a happy fiction - who can tell?

Then it'll be like no time has passed at all? Almost like I never even left.

[ she can't help it - that is indeed a look of bright, shining hope, followed by utter relief at his revelation. even if it isn't true, it gives her something to cling to and believe in. she can focus her efforts on fixing other things that might look relentlessly bleak, and put this one to rest. maybe. ]

- And how many have confirmed this?

[ The stiffness in his shoulders makes it all the way up to his face, coinciding with the sound of hope in her voice. Then it breaks, and he's all brilliance and smiles. ]

Why, you can look for yourself~!

There's a device in your welcome packet, a tablet, doubtless someone's told you about it already. There's a history of this place recorded in it, including the testimony of those who've been spirited home - and brought back again.

[ He'd been about to pull the umbrella away; but now he steps in, too close to her, and murmurs. ]

Look for yourself, you've no need to trust anyone. Least of all some stranger that you've only just met. Unless, that is-

[ His gloved hand opens, revealing a hard candy, handmade and precious, wrapped tight in waxed paper. ]

--you want to be friends.

It just saves it all? Every conversation?

[ it takes a moment for the stranger danger to sink in, honestly, and her hand's in her opposite pocket, reaching for the folded up tablet. oh, the wonders of technology, but then his hand and the closeness of his voice and belle freezes. her hand grips the device, still in her pocket, too tightly. she'll wonder if she broke it later.

her eyes harden and she looks from the candy, up to him. swallows hard, wary. ]

- Who are you?

[ He wiggles his fingers and -- poof! The candy disappears. ]

Ha! Ha! Ha! Dear me, did I startle you?

[ He's still too close to her, but now it's with an air of conspiratorial conviviality - as if he has only moved in to share some private joke. ]

I am Xerxes Break, how do you do?

I've been better, I think.

[ she nods. it's tense, and rather curt. he changes his tone at the drop of a hat and he's still too close, but on the other hand - shelter.

but she's soaked to the bone regardless. belle lowers her head, clearing her throat, and takes the slightest step to the side. ]

I wasn't expecting a magician.

'Tisn't real magic. Just sleight of hand.

[ He flips his hand over, revealing the hidden candy, caught between his fingers. At precisely the same moment, while her attention is hopefully fixed on his trick, he steps slightly to the side also--away from her, though he keeps the umbrella where it is. ]

What's your name?

[ she does pay attention, inner-workings always being of interest to her, but at the same time, she also acknowledge his side-step. her eyes dart up to the umbrella, then back to his hand. all in all, it's appreciated.

she's still nervous. ]

- Lacey. Lacey French.

[ she says it and then in an instant, she doesn't know why. and she goes still for a moment, while there's time to revoke it, but no. it's a good cover, for those who worry her. a not-cursed name will come when she can trust him. ]

It's nice to meet you. You're - um - very talented.

Lacie--?

[ He startles; his eyebrows shoot up. An instant later, he has recovered, murmuring "coincidence" to himself. He twists the candy open with the fingers of one hand and pops it in his mouth. Crunch! The waxed paper wrapping flutters to the ground. ]

It's nice to meet you tooooo~!

[ His voice has flipped over again, into a silly sing-song. He begins to move, twisting and floppy, loose-limbed like a rag doll. His hand comes up, hovering behind her shoulder, not touching but clearly shepherding. ]

Dear me! My goodness! I saaaaaay, you're going to catch a terrible chill if you stay out like this. You want tea and cake -- and maybe a towel, hmm?

I - um - [ a glance behind at the way he's practically herding her, before she looks back at him. really, she can be as standoffish as she likes, but when it's a matter of being this uncomfortable in the outdoor environment -

belle figures that as long as she remains on her guard, she can stay out of trouble. and it isn't as though he's made obvious attempts to hurt her yet. he's simply got an unexpected attitude. ]

Sure. Tea sounds wonderful, actually - the towel, too. [ combined with a resolute nod and a hesitant laugh. ]

[ He's already moving towards the apartments, umbrella held aloft between them, though now he is grasping a cane in his other hand, and swinging it with an over-energetic, eccentric jauntiness. Embedded in the end of each swing is a fluid arc that sweeps out in front of him. The tip hits a small rock (leftover rubble from the recent bombings); he flicks it away. ]

So, Miss... Lacie--

[ He pronounces her name with a delicate emphasis. ]

Did they give you an actual place to stay, or are you stuck on a cot with the rest of the most recent arrivals?

(ooc: I really am sorry for the delay, I blame insomnia leading to writer's block. But I did manage to catch up to the latest episode of OUaT!)

( ooc: it's fine! i've been busy with moving back to college anyway - but i hope you're feeling better! and yes excellent re: catching up! )

I -

[ she frowns. prominently. even going so far as to glance over her shoulder back the way they've come from, to see if there are any professionals she can consult on that matter. ]

Am I supposed to have one? It - doesn't really sound like that's usual.

[ the slightest hint of a grimace. a sheepish one. she should know how to be more efficient than that, but in her defense, she was more than overwhelmed. ]

I didn't ask.

They would have given you a key to your apartment, if you had one. There used to be much more room in the present building, but--

[ A sabotaged spaceship crashed into it. That's hard to explain, and perhaps she doesn't need to know everything at once... ]

Ah, haha! It's undergoing renovations.

[ she shakes her head. that - does not sound efficient at all whatsoever. ]

You said something about a cot, but - where do they expect all of us to stay?

They can't open up another building even though there's dozens of people coming in every month?

[ Brightly ]

Welcome to Exsilium~! I believe you'll find the decision making on par with the highest levels of bureaucracy.

[ Now opening the door to the housing building ]

Another apartment building would be an obvious choice, but most housing here is hardly fit to live in. Bombs and disease will do that to a place, alas.

Then -

[ bombs and disease. oh, that sounds wonderfully pleasant. belle digs in her heels and stops at the door, frowning, nearly delving into scowl territory. her eyes glance up at the building in front of her. ]

We're their soldiers. They should treat us decently.

[ she shakes her head. ]

There isn't anywhere safer?

[ He's not sure why she has stopped, but he'll keep holding the door open in any case. He begins to answer her, but seems to think better of it. A twitch of a half-smile and then he asks, gently: ]

Do you... know anything of soldiering?

I -

[ she's fought. she really has. she hadn't the experience but somehow she'd managed to get through it, but does a chance adventure really count as fighting a war? do overheard conversations between her father and knights count as knowledge?

she takes a step forward. ]

I know enough.

Good, good!

[ She knows nothing, he's sure. Ah, well. She'll learn. He flashes her a bright, puzzled sort of grin. ]

Are you coming in? Or are you enjoying the weather too much? Or are you expecting to be carried across the threshold like a bride~? ♥

[ her face hardens, slightly, a glare taken aback, and finally she shakes her head. ]

That's not necessary at all. [ and finally, she's through the door. potentially ready for more sickness and bombings. awesome. she rubs her hands together, thankful to be out of the rain, but does not remove her coat. ] Thank you.

[ He's already shutting up his umbrella and twirling it. ]

Ha! Ha! Ha! No need to be so put out, my dear, I'm only joking~♥

[ There's a lift; his fingers slide with a studied sort of carelessness across the buttons and he pushes the one that says, "up." ]

A little levity is essential to cast out the damp and darkness, don't you think?