exsiliumlogs | (open) The wall

Entry tags:

(open) The wall

Date & Time: Tuesday (today)
Location: Out in the city!
Characters: Stanley Lucerne and whoever stumbles across him.
Summary: Stan has the feeling he could plaster a wall if he set his mind to it...so he gives it a shot. He hasn't recruited anyone, so all are as likely/welcome to be there as you want.
Warnings: Cursing. He's an American teenage boy from the modern era. Also drugs, whoops. You know, stuff like that.

((OOC And any format is fine, I'll follow. Just starting in prose because it's less work on my phone.))

It wasn't a gradual thing. Gradually, it might've made sense. Maybe he could've mulled it over in his sleep and worked things out. People did that. Famous people. He'd fallen asleep in many a history class to the drone of 'and in a dream, inspiration solved x huge historical problem.'

Instead, it was sudden. As soon as that lady with the weird speech patterns had suggested it, he'd known it was in there. The ability to help. The knowledge of how to go about rebuilding. Which was weird, frankly, since he'd never so much as lifted a hammer before in his life. Yeah, sure, there were tools in the garage back home. His dad might've even known how a few of them worked, though that was debatable. A certainty was that he had never even attempted to show them to Stanley, who had always made his disinterest in manual labor known to those around him.

So it was more than a little unexpected when this morning he woke with not only the feeling that he was capable of helping in the aftermath of the bombing, but the alien new feeling of actually wanting to do so. Which was how he found himself gathering stones and materials, and quietly setting to work. It didn't even matter what the buildings had been before, because he wasn't interested in helping anyone specific. It was sort of like being possessed.

Then again, it could've been worse. He could've been levitating and vomiting pea soup. That would've sucked...

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"You're used to being bombed?"

She doesn't come off like just any normal girl it's true, but that's still a surprise. He can't imagine anyone being used to it.

He's also not sure he should let the compliment slide when technically, it's not true. So he glances away, pretends to be interested in his blueprints again.

"I hid."

"I'm not used to it," she says. How could anyone be 'used' to bombing? It's not something she would ever want to be used to.

"Is that a bad thing?" Hiding is sometimes necessary, after all. If he had nothing to defend himself, then it's perfectly acceptable. Even if he did have something that could work as a weapon against the bombs, it doesn't mean that he knew how to put any use to it. He's young, from what she can tell. She really doesn't blame him for hiding.

"I don't know."

Glumly, he sits on one of the rocks, now that he's sure the girl is alright. It kept him alive, at any rate. He definitely wouldn't stand a chance against bombs. Or even bullets. Probably not even like, a chimpanzee that knows how to use a knife.

"There was this little girl. We pulled her out of some...but she couldn't have been the only one in that hospital wing. You know? Just. The only one I could hear crying."

Babydoll's heart sinks. She had been going from hospital to hospital, at least as much as she could. There were some places she couldn't reach, no matter how much she tried.

"I know," her voice lowers into a soft whisper, "I know. It's horrible." She sighs, moving in to stand closer to him. If she can offer him anything, it'll be reassurance.

"You saved her. You did really well."

"I just got her underground." He confesses, pulling his knees up to his chin and frowning. "When we got down there I just...I don't know. I threw up. The big guy had to carry her the rest of the way."

He glances up at the woman again, uncertain about all of it. And still haunted about all of the horrors that there was nothing to be done for. The disembodied limbs just lying in the streets. Whatever was left of the streets.

It's a lot more disturbing when you see it in real life than it is at the movies. Just thinking about it makes him shudder.

Babydoll crouches down in front of him and reaches out, squeezing his shoulder softly.

"It's going to be hard, I know you know that. But you'll be able to help more people if you really want to. You saved her and you could have left her," she gives one more final squeeze to his shoulder before standing up straight again.

It is disturbing. She was surprised to see how many people were out, risking their lives to save people, despite not even knowing some of them. It was just that need to help, to save and continue saving, that gave Babydoll more faith in humanity.

"What kind of creep would leave her?"

Usually when a girl squeezes his shoulder, it's Michelle. So it gives him this funny warm feeling in his stomach, and a weird moment where he's almost positive he can smell her perfume. It's disorienting, to look up and see someone else.

He shakes his head, trying to rid it of ghosts and cobwebs he hadn't even realized were in there until just now.

"That's just it: a creep," she says. She knows of a few people who would leave someone struggling in order to save their own life. She knows what kind of person it takes to be in order to do that, and she's glad that Stanley isn't one of them.

Babydoll lets out a sigh. "It's hard to think about others when you might die, but sometimes you have to." She waits a moment to speak up again, finding the right words, "sometimes you have to choose."

"Sounds personal."

And not like an actual choice at all, honestly. But that's not a part of the conversation he wants to dwell on. It seems too real, now that he's in a place where sometimes people really are dying all around you.

"Death is personal," it's something that she wants to avoid, something she never wants to have to watch someone go through again. Yet, Babydoll realizes that it's not always going to be that way. People will die.

There's not much to say to that. HE hadn't been under the impression it was a spectator sport or anything, but considering the shit he's just seen, he's not so sure the idea of life being sacred is as widespread as he'd always assumed it was.

He rubs at his face, and tugs at his hair, still trying to come down from the adrenaline high that just remembering the other day brought on.

"There's not enough. Shelter. I mean, if they-"

Stanley stops when his voice breaks, and clears his throat. Jeez, that's embarrassing.

"If that's normal. There should be more places to hide. Especially for the local people. They didn't know where to go, either."

"I know. Too many people died because of that." Babydoll looks down at the ground, tapping a few pieces of rubble with her heel. "I spoke to a man about it. The Initiative wants to use quantity over quantity."

She pauses, head tilting back as she looks at the sky. It's not a nice place here, no matter how nice the people.

"There are so many people here who don't know how to fight yet."

That makes him grit his teeth. It's bullshit, and he's pretty sure they both know it.

"No shit. I'm going to seriously die if they toss me on a battlefield."

"I can help you, if you want." It would be a lot of work, but Babydoll's willing to help people who wanted to fight, who wanted to use the weapon they were given. It wouldn't be a bad idea, trying to gather people who wanted to train and fight for their lives instead of standing by.

"But you don't have to fight. You can wait until it's over, if that's what you want."

Does he want to fight? Hell no, he doesn't want to fight. Then again, he's not sure it's a smart move to dismiss free training when it's handed to him. It might keep him alive a little longer.

Or get him horribly, horribly mangled first before the inevitable death happens. Because he doesn't even have a weapon, and even if he happened to get one from somewhere, he definitely wouldn't know how to use it.

"I don't know. I'm not really that guy."

"No?" Babydoll's a little surprised. She thought he might at least want to learn a little something. It doesn't necessarily mean he has to go out in battle, but it helps to know a few things to defend yourself.

"That's okay."

"Nah, not soldier material."

He admits, shrugging. He'd been honest with people about it. The fact that they still don't seem to think it will be a problem is disturbing, but there isn't much he can do to change their mind besides dying gruesomely. Which he's not exactly in a hurry to do.

"What brings you out in this fine weather?"

Babydoll accepts his answer, she can't do anything about it and it is his choice to fight, so she doesn't push it. His question makes her raise an eyebrow at him.

"I don't like staying inside all the time," she motions to the wall he's attempting to fix, "how's it going?"

"Not bad." He answers, genuinely surprised by it himself. He'd expected a lot worse. It was stil hard to believe that he had some idea of what he was doing, but all the same he seemed to. "The stones are heavy, so it's going kind of slow. But it's going."

"Keep up the good work," she smiles, even if it doesn't quite reach her eyes. takes a step back, looking over the wall once again. It's definitely hard work and she finds herself being a little proud of him giving back to the community. Or, whatever community it was. Exsilium wasn't exactly a community, not to her.

"Good luck with it."

"Can't do much to make it worse, right?" He offers her a small smile in return, shrugs, and picks up another stone. "See ya."

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(open) The wall

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*some wreckage whoops

i figured it's all good!

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quality*** wow i even double checked it

I thought there were of two minds on the matter.

noo it was quantity over quality c:

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