exsiliumlogs | you've traveled far, what have you found?

Entry tags:

you've traveled far, what have you found?

Date & Time: 7/26 - 7/31 ish, give or take a few days
Location: streets of the city, training grounds, her rooms (unit 108)
Characters: Roslyn & YOU
Summary: Roslyn is on her way back to society. She guesses.
Warnings: Ros is in this log.

She'd spent too long just wandering, and the rain was getting too much for her to continue just tramping through the wilds or wandering around aimlessly ignoring life. So now she was back, full time.

She spent a lot of time in her room, idly browsing the network. She wasn't spending as much time taking notes as she had when she'd started, but she still occasionally noted down something that seemed important.

The rest of her time she spent in the training hall, for the first time spending most of her time there actively training herself, going through exercise after exercise. When she could find a willing sparring partner she practiced her hand to hand. When she couldn't she simply went through routines or practiced her aim or returned to spending some time simply watching others.

When she wasn't in either of those places, she could still be found in the streets of the hold and the surrounding city, searching for something. She couldn't have said what.

[ ooc: run into Roslyn anywhere you feel like it, really! or come knocking on her door or whatever. ]

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Jane's exploring again, wandering the streets of the hold, making sure she knew where things were, just in case. Being here has made her a little more paranoid, considering everything she's seen and heard so far.

She's not been training, not caring about what the Initiative thinks. Call it her own little rebellion.

She recognizes the face, and though it's safer now than it was before to wander the hold by yourself it's still not something she feels comfortable leaving a self-assessed non-fighter to do on their own. Not in this world.

Her approach is casual and as nonthreatening as she can make it, coming to a stop near her and holding out her hand. "I hope you're being careful."

Jane turns at the sound of someone speaking to her, but she stops and stays where she is at, keeping space between them. "I'm being careful."

"Roslyn Small - I didn't introduce myself, but we discussed housing briefly." An introduction is probably a good idea here. "They like us better these days, but they aren't entirely thrilled about us still."

Jane nods. "I remember you. Jane Foster, by the way. I'm not sure if I gave my name, or not." She shrugs, a little. "I'm used to being around people who aren't entirely fond of my presence." She was referring to the townspeople who wondered what that strange woman was doing running around in the desert watching the sky.

He hadn't heard from Roslyn in a while except from a while back on his trainwreck of a post about aspiring hate romance and the jerks involved. Despite that, he'd only thought of actually checking up on things now because his situation was a little less hectic; hectic being fights, breakups, teen drama and pointless self-described anguish.

The idea was a little weird though; most of the time she's just a face behind dull, uninspiring text on a screen, aside the rare video feed, and that one time way back when during the first mission in Rome, but it was different back then. He didn't think much of her at the time.

So he hovers around outside her unit for a few minutes, thinking it over, then finally knocks on her door and hopes to god she's the first one to answer.

She hadn't kept as close an eye on Eridan as she'd meant to, her own bleakness overwhelming her, and even now that she'd managed to pull herself out of the pit to a certain extent she wasn't caught up.

She'd told herself that he could handle himself, and that he'd contact her if he needed anything.

Still, she's more than a little surprised to find him on her doorstep when she opens the door, casually dressed and her hair pulled back into a messy bun.

"Hey," she says after a short moment, stepping back. "Want something to drink?"

"Yeah. Anythin' is fine."

He gives a noncommittal wave of his hand, inviting himself in and stepping into her apartment. He starts looking around once he's in, though for nothing in particular, instead just comparing the appearance of her place to his own.

Mostly he just wonders why the hell he has to share a block with the two worst roommates ever. As he speaks, he's still casually looking around.

"Havven't heard from you in a wwhile. Thought maybe you'd left.

"You been busy or somethin'?"

She moves to the kitchen to get them both water, taking him at his word, wondering why precisely he's here.

There's nothing in particular for him to see. Anything of hers is in her room, and even in there everything is organized neatly and stacked up, very few personal touches. The living room and kitchen are Artika and Loki's to do what they want with. She doesn't need much space of her own.

Handing him a glass of water, she takes a sip of her own, watching him thoughtfully. So that's why he's here. It's... unexpected.

"I was travelling in the countryside for a while," she says. "Exploring, really. It didn't feel like there was much for me to do here."

"Oh."

Well, that explains it. He contemplates asking why she didn't tell him, but that would look totally needy and unprofessional, which he is, but then he doesn't want people thinking that ~~assuming they don't already~~ so decides against it.

"Did you find anythin' useful?"

At which point he takes a sip from his own glass.

"Quite. It was a -- more or less spontaneous thing."

Which is to say, she'd stood up one day, decided she couldn't take one more minute in the Hold, and taken off for a while.

"A few places I wouldn't mind living. Talked to some people. Nothing new, really."

Hospitality, right. That was considered important by most people. She gestures to a seat on the couch, taking her own on a chair.

"What have you been doing?"

"Livve, huh? Like wwhere?"

Oh, don't mind him Roslyn he's already halfway towards the offered seat by the time she remembers to offer him the spot in the first place.

"Ugh, don't evven get me started Ros; it's been nothin' but shit all month."

"Some good camping spots, mostly. Found a couple caves that could fit quite a few people at a pinch." She shrugs. "It's best to keep options wide open."

Her eyebrows raise just slightly. Last she'd heard, something good had been happening.

"I'm sorry. Do you want to discuss it at all?"

Camping and caves; suddenly thinks she might not be right after all, considering the royalty mentality. Caves and camping outside are so not his thing.

So instead he'll ignore that and just focus on his problems.

"God, where do I ewen start; Sol totally fuckin' sabotaged my whole thing I had goin' on with Eq, then we got into a fight an' the guy cheats his way into a stupid unfair wictory an' the undead just seem to make a uniwersal case a' gettin' into my affairs an hasslin' me for no reason. It's just a real pain."

Desperate times, Eridan.

She listens carefully to what he's saying, trying to figure it out. So the troll... hate romance thing, that seems to have ended in a way that he's not pleased about. Nothing in her life has qualified her to deal with this.

"Undead in the multiple sense? How many do we have here?"

"Oh, uh, no...it's. Complicated. Mostly shit from home, they gawe me a lot of flak back there too. One of 'em [Pause]...tried to kill me. Honestly, it's ridiculous I gotta be gettin' hostilities from 'em here too."

He swirls his glass a little, staring into the water for a moment before taking another sip.

"I wonder sometimes why some people don't just stay dead. That's how it's supposed to work."

She waits through that, still trying to sort it out in her head. What is she supposed to say to that? Someone please give her a -- a manual or something.

"In my experience, they do stay dead." But she looks up at him. "I guess in your world it's different. Why are they still hostile towards you? It's a new world. A clean slate would make everything easier."

"You're askin' the wrong guy, Ros. If I knew why they were so set on bein' out to cause me trouble I'd a' rectified whatewer it is by now."

Sadly even if there was a reason, he probably wouldn't.

"I didn't ewen know the guy."

"Perhaps sometime I'll ask them." Thoughtful, for a moment, a certain hardness in it.

She may not know how to handle it, but sometimes Eridan reminds her of her brother.

"And Sol - Sollux? - sabotaged your relationship."

"Yep."

Oh, just mentioning the name alone causes this huge, bitter scowl to form across his face.

"Not the first time he's done this sorta thing, either."

"Do you want to talk about what happened or would you rather not?"

She feels a little bit like she's treading on eggshells, but she would like to do what she can for him.

"Ugh, just - I don't know what he said, but the guy sent me messages tauntin' the fact it weren't gonna last, then I hear Eq' flippin' out an' leawin' and breaking the front door, an' Sol just said somethin' to the effect of you hear that, it's the sound of your relationship endin'. Except it was this really fuckawful pun."

Sighing and just. Feelings and problems everywhere. ~~Also delusion~~.

"I can't ewen describe how much I hate the guy Ros', ewen before comin' here we just been at odds since day fuckin' one."

Teenagers. She takes a long sip of water as she listens. Had she ever been that emotional as a teenager? She suspects she was and is just remembering it through rose colored glasses, but it doesn't feel like she was.

"Perhaps you could talk to one of the more technologically inclined people about being able to block messages from him."

John here is just walking along the streets, having taken a brief break from his time at the clinic before he manages to spot Roslyn not too long after. It was immediate relief to know she was okay, not that he hadn't been keeping in touch, but you never know what could happen around here. So he makes for a direct approach to her in a brief jog until he's at her side.

"Up to anything?" No real point in starting with a hello or an awkward hey, just getting straight to the point was good enough.

She doesn't startle easily, but she's distracted enough that she didn't see him coming and there's a certain wariness in her eyes when she first turns to him, quickly replaced by her standard neutral look, though there's more than a hint of a smile in it.

"Not particularly," she says honestly. "I've been sitting back. You?"

John doesn't so much as see the wariness as he sees that hint of smile, he's too busy showing a smile and chuckling briefly at her reply. "Busy as any doctor will be. It's not so bad. It's.. a nice pace of busy, keeps me something to do." Which is to say better than that incident with being sent out to those missions.

He's still on his toes though. He keeps awaiting for the next assignment for everyone to be sent back for some other war in history. Things at least haven't been terribly on edge here. ..Well, more like it is, but nothing to have people freaking out about. "Seems kind of quiet, doesn't it?"

"A nice pace of busy is better than overwhelmed," she says with a slight shrug. "Better than nothing to do, too."

She casts a quick look at him when he says that, nodding emphatically. "I keep wondering when the next outbreak of awful is going to be. That probably makes me a little cynical, but."

"Exactly my thoughts." Though when she adds in, he can't help but nod along. It's true, really. You learn to adapt but you also learn to expect for something to happen. It was never peaceful or quiet here for long. If, at all.

"Something you're use to. We all are. I don't think any of us expect it to stay quiet for long."

"No, I guess we don't." Her sigh is quiet, an exhale of air. She looks out into the distance, her lips thinning in a frown.

"I should be doing something more with my free time, probably, but after the most recent disasters - I'm not sure what I could do."

"It's got us all in a difficult position. But I know you'll think of something." Probably something along the lines of why he has such belief or trust in her should be questioned, but from what he's seen of her since the beginning.. he doesn't doubt his words.

He glances back around, watching the few moving about. "Sometimes I feel like I don't do enough."

"Your faith is remarkable." And unwarranted, she feels, but that's not something she feels comfortable saying out loud.

But that last comment turns her attention to him sharply, frowning. "John, you do a great deal. You don't owe anything, and if you did you'd have paid it three times over already."

Bucky gets up at 5AM in the morning every day. It's that frisky military routine, you know. Who knew it would be really damn hard to get rid of. It's the end of his physical and he rounds up with an hour or two in the shooting range. Aim's no big deal for him. It's seeing who else is here, and some are better than others.

"Hey," he smiles as he approaches, hands in clear view. "Wanna make this more interesting?"

She lowers her gun, eyeing the target with mostly satisfaction. Sharp shooting was one of her talents, and it's good to know she hasn't lost it during her time stuck here, the initial time spent with little training despite the Initiative's insistence on it. Glancing over at his approach, she considers him for a moment.

"Interesting in what way?" she says. "I can think of a few different ways to make it more interesting."

"You know what they say about great minds." He tips his head towards her and shoulders his rifle, his hand grips the butt of it loosely.

"First five bulls-eye with each other's weapon gets a free drink from the loser." Not that he knows where to find a pub here, but he's a gambler. He bets on himself winning all the time. Suppose it's arrogance, or just foolishness.

"We'll see about that." But she does look interested, even a little welcoming. And that does sound like an interesting proposition. She hasn't used a rifle in several years, but it's not the sort of skill that ever entirely goes away.

"It's a deal." She pulls her Glock out, letting it balance in the palm of her hand as she extends it. Normally handing her weapon over to another person would be slightly more worrying, but she can't be bothered with worry these days.

Having taken guns and grenades off dead soldiers, he doesn't think much about giving his away momentarily. He's got hers, anyway. And Bucky's a real good shot, even with new weapons.

"Nice." He turns and inspects her gun. Her Glock is a shinier toy than what he's used to; old scraps of metal turned revolvers, they jammed too often to be expected but it caught him off guard still. This is lighter and got a heck of a grip.

"They gave this to you when you got here?"

She hefts his gun in her hands, testing the balance and weight. It's an older model than any she's used, but it shouldn't be entirely out of her depth. A lot more concentration required on aiming, she suspects.

"Yes." She pauses, looking over at it. "I had one of my own at home. The Glock 22 is the standard issue weapon for an FBI field agent." And returning her attention to his weapon, she checks whether it's loaded. "Was this your weapon of choice, then?"

"FBI, huh. Funny how they changed names, isn't it?"

Around ten years ago, the newspaper headlines were filled with just that. BOI changed to FBI. Just for fun, he remembers an old fella saying. He moves to stand at his mark, the target is lofting and waiting.

"Yeah, sort of. I just grabbed what I can. I didn't think this was really going to be a long-term stay." Bucky eyes his rifle. The standard colt assault rifle is still taking some work to get used to. It was newer technology, who can say no to newer technology. Heck, if he had to go pick again, he'd look for HYDRA weapons.

That comment buys him only a slight questioning look, the FBI's name change over half a century in her past, something she's hardly even aware of.

"That's what everyone thinks when they first get here." She looks over at the targets, assessing them. "It's a good weapon, though. How long have you been here?"

"A month or so. You?"

He cocks her weapon, straightens his arm and his Drill Sargent's voice comes to his head. None of that stuff you see in your fantasy, kid. You play with that thing and you die. He remembers and smiles, just a bit wistfully. Two hands comes up to balance the weapon. He fires once, his aim is steadily. His just off the center shot is proof of it.

Bucky's a bit in surprised there's no shake in his fingers afterwards. So unlike his own revolver back home. He shakes it off and looks smugly back at her.

Edited 2012-08-07 02:27 (UTC)

"Almost six."

The shot's a good one, and she nods at him before lifting his weapon in turn, tilting her head to look through the sights. She waits a long moment, letting her breathing set a rhythm, waiting for steadiness. It comes after a long moment.

The kick is stronger than she expected, her aim just off but close. Adjustment to a new weapon, and she squints at it for a moment but shrugs. "Your turn."

He kind-of stares at her then. Six months is a long time. He's trying to see if there's any sign of war on her. Only thing is, staring for too long gets a bit awkward. He clears his throat and gets into a shooting stance.

"Thought of being stuck here for another month. It's itching at my bones."

He misses the target off by a point this time, distracted by the thought. Target practice seems more like a information gathering trip now, and Bucky doesn't bother hiding the curiosity.

"Any kind of progress on get the hell out of here?"

She's always carried herself the same - contained, controlled. Being here hasn't changed that, really. At least not around strangers.

"I'm afraid you'll just have to live with it."

She raises his gun, takes her time lining up the shot. This doesn't particularly matter, but these days she's putting the same careful attention to everything, even the tiniest things. It helps somehow.

"People have tried quite a few things. Barring a sudden breakthrough, which I don't expect, we're quite stuck."

The crack of the shot is louder than she expected in her ear, but the aim's good.

Serah only briefly remembers the original tour she'd been given of the hold, and it's only as she's exploring the streets that she realises she probably should have paid more attention. She wanders idly, keeping an eye out for a familiar landmark that'll direct her back the way she'd come. When one fails to appear, she starts to look around for somebody to ask instead.

Rounding a corner and seeing Roslyn, Serah smiles, walking closer to her. "Hey... sorry to bother you, but do you know your way around at all? I think I'm a little ... lost."

Roslyn raises an eyebrow, but shrugs and nods. Her own sense of direction is excellent, but the Hold can be confusing.

"I know my way around fairly well," she says. "Where are you looking for?"

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you've traveled far, what have you found?

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sorry super late!! ;;

i backtag forever, no worries!

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