(no subject)

[initiates]

Date: February 1st
Location: The Initiative Hold & Courtyard.
Characters: Everyone.
Summary: New Transports have all arrived and have been shuffled into the Courtyard after their initial briefings, while older Transports are returning from the mission to Uruguay.
Warnings: None.

While those who have been guests of Exsilium since at least the last wave of Transports return from their desperate mission and are pressed out of the Transporter room and into the Courtyard, the Initiative prepares to receive a second wave at the same time. And if you're in that second wave, the fresh meat, then 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

[heartsink]

And Kanaya's question, in turn, has Ruka's face scrunching for confusion. "How much of this world have you seen?" she asks, and then with a quick purse of her lips adds, "Besides that, how long have you been here?"

[speakveryclearly]

"Four months," she says, defensively, and it is at this time that she first consciously reminds herself she has the failsafe of pointing out this is Haruka's floor. "More than enough for any evidence of seasons to present itself. All of that has been in the city," (some really did call it the City, that would totally kill Ruka) "but the locals will confirm to you that this weather is a constant. It's only during our missions into the past, or fabricated images, that I've seen the slightest hint of anything like sunshine. The Initiative implied it had something to do with how your technology has been used.

"I always thought that was why you named the months of your calendar, to make the parts of the year as they passed more memorable." She shrugs. "I never inquired into that one too deeply."

[heartsink]

She shakes her head, hand moving to tuck some of her hair behind her ear. It's still as wet as the ground outside; she flicks water from her fingers off to the side. "No, the seasons are much more distinct than that. Well, elsewhere in the world, at least. This region was always pretty miserable year-round from what I remember about it, even on my Earth."

And, gently, she forces a shrug. "Then again, I suppose I can't speak with real certainty about this one."

I'm so sorry for this tag except I'm not

[speakveryclearly]

Haruka's brown hair catches Kanaya's eye for a moment. She was still trying to train herself in comprehending Earth's "ethnicities", and Haruka's name hinted at one, her hair another. Pink (Utena, Madoka), purple (Anthy), blue (Sayaka), red (Kyouko, Asuka)... brown you didn't usually get in that "culture". Stupid lousy multicultural planet. It's hard, being an alien from a monolithic civilization.

"I suppose neither of us can."

She opens the door of the stairwell to end the argument.

LMAO **IF ONLY SHE KNEW**

[heartsink]

Unaware of Kanaya's difficulties with hair color—and, even if she knew, unable to sympathize by regaling Kanaya with stories of hair color problems—Ruka simply accepts the open door and the final statement for what they are.

She crosses the threshold with a bowed head for gratitude, glancing back over her shoulder to see if Kanaya would be following her to the door itself, or leaving her here.

ONE DAY SHE MIGHT MEET A JAPANESE LA CHARACTER...

[speakveryclearly]

She does slip through the door behind her, not closing it, in a way that does not follow Haruka as closely. She points down the hall, being fairly confident Haruka's room is in that direction after rather frequently visiting her friend Roxy's in Unit 408.

"So Unit Four One Zero is... somewhere near the end of the hall there I think." Her arm remains up as she continues. "And--I'm not going to bore you with Network minutiae, if you have technological complaints here I'm sure you're familiar with that concept already." (If only she knew how familiar.) "That's where you can find me again, if you want, unless you're really enthused to climb up three more flights of stairs to Seven Zero Five, which I doubt."

MAYBE........

[heartsink]

"Oh, the climb I don't mind so much," she says, gently sidestepping the concept of the Network (similar terminology; it would be easier if all the names were different, rather than pieces here and there). "I'm used to living on the top floor, of a much taller building, and a few years ago we had to stop using elevators anyway."

A slip, passing by unnoticed by Ruka herself; her smile is something approaching genuine, if still disoriented by this whole... thing that's happened. "Now, if the distance between us were another thirty flights on top of that, then it might be another story."

[speakveryclearly]

"Well, it's not," she says with a little bit of laughter - Haruka really is one of the clever ones, Kanaya will have to remember her (and be remembered, but that's too much to hope for, or at least correctly).

"So," continues the cool rainbow drinker who has completely succeeded in this social interaction "I guess I will see you later, then." She makes a small wave and walks backwards at a normal-looking pace through the stairwell door, which she closes in front of her.

One of the main differences between her speedy movement and Gamzee's is that when kept up over an extended distance such as, for example, three flights of stairs, her feet do successfully generate a notable clattering noise.