exsiliumlogs | (no subject)

Date: May 1st
Location: The Initiative Hold & Courtyard.
Characters: Everyone.
Summary: New Transports arrive and are shuffled into the Courtyard after their initial briefings, while those Transports on the mission to Wollongong return.
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.

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

Good point. Apparently we just came out of a time machine, there's more worrying stuff going on than some guy talking to himself.

[That's not without a hint of self-deprecation, but it's mostly in good humour.] I'm. Not really sure if a month sounds like a really long or short amount of time to spend here, actually.

I've met people who have been here for a lot longer, actually. I'm hoping it won't be much longer than that for them. ['Or for us', is implied. And before he forgets-]

I'm Peter.

[Jaime winces, but he doesn't look too surprised. Even though he had maintained hope, even only having been here for a little while, it's been made fairly obvious by the volume of the population alone that there's not a big red button you can push to go home.]

Jaime, [he says in return, sticking out his hand for him to shake.] Nice to meet you.

[Hand: shaken.]

You too, Jaime. Where are you from?

Earth, if we're speaking generally. El Paso, Texas if we're not. [He figures it's worth it to make things clear, considering the whole different-worlds schtick.] How about you?

[That makes him smile a little. It's sort of ridiculous how expansive the origins are sometimes.]

I'm from France. Also Earth.

Cool. So... you must speak French? [He gives the tablet he's still holding a little wiggle.] How's the auto-translator on this thing?

Edited 2013-05-27 00:14 (UTC)

I'm - [Pause. huh!] I'm actually not sure. We could check it out.

You haven't tried it out? I would've figured most people here speak different languages. Pretty sure not everyone here's native language is English. [Or Spanish, at that rate - but he hasn't exactly seen a whole lot of other Latinos around here.]

[Peter just shakes his head, lips pressed awkwardly to look down at the device, hands now hiding in his pockets.] I guess I didn't really think about it.