exsiliumlogs | hurry, hurry [OPEN]

Entry tags:

hurry, hurry [OPEN]

Date & Time: 2/20, nighttime
Location: All over the friggin' place – near the houses, the starting point, the hold etc.
Characters: Martin Darkov, YOU?
Summary: Gotta find a way out of here, man.
Warnings: N/A

No, no, no...

Martin's thoughts were in time with his panting – a mistake right away, he realized, once he felt his throat start to really feel raw and tight. That's not how you're supposed to run.

But he'd gotten scared. So scared. Everything was just...just too much at once. He didn't think to calm down, breathe through his nose when he ran, take stock of where he was going. He had no idea if he was going in circles or squares or anything, just--

I have to get back to Olvoski. I have to. I have to. Have to, have to...

"Gnah...hah..." He had to stop again, bent forward with his hands on his knees, panting hard. Nasally whimpers escaped here and there, the worst of which he fought ferociously. I must not cry. I must get back to Olvoski.

I must!

It made his shaky legs move again. Bleary-eyed and blind to real direction, he ran, seeking out the shape of a body who could, who just might be able to tell him what he needed to hear.

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"Just curious," Bariyan said, stopping to look back at Martin. But they'd barely gone ten steps, so he doesn't stop for long. "I've never seen anything like it before."

He smirked to himself. In the past week or so, most everything he'd seen had been entirely new to him.

Their walk took them around the hold and across the lawns. Bariyan's pace was slow and aimless, for the moment, trying to figure out if there was any place in particular that he ought to show Martin right now.

"Oh."

Martin swallowed, following in silence for a few paces as he mulled it over best he could. He already felt like he was in a mountain of trouble. Was it worth adding on or desperately try burrowing out now?

His hand tugged on his sleeve, losing grip on his elbow.

"I'm not allowed to talk about it," he said at last, wincing a little as he glanced up. He quickly added, "I'm sorry."

That got Martin another raised eyebrow, but Bariyan had the good sense to refrain from prying any more. He filed that way into the back of his mind though: Martin Darkov, hailing from some secretive anti-undead cult thing.

"Not a problem," Bariyan said. Moving on. "Anyway... how long have you been here? What do you know so far?"

The time stretched out again as Martin thought about it. He actually...hadn't thought too much about it, time-wise. His mouth tugged on one side before he pressed his lips together and made a nasally hmm.

"Uhm," he looked back up at Bariyan. "A couple hours, I think. It doesn't feel like a day, or...or half-a-day."

His gaze continued up further. "And...the sky wasn't this dark before. I don't think. But I was inside a place..." Back down to Bariyan. "Where the lady told me to pick something out of that room..."

"So you got the same talk that everyone else did. Weapon, money, housing..." The talk where they basically told you nothing. It'd taken a little more digging for Bariyan to figure out why they were here. Not much, but he did think it odd that they hadn't told anyone anything straight off the bat.

"What did you pick?" Bariyan asked. Genuine curiosity this time. He almost makes a jab along the lines of 'unless you're not allowed to talk about that either', but that's just childish.

He nodded a little as Bariyan ticked off the details, though he looked dubious. Honestly, he hadn't paid the best attention at the time, panicked and confused as he had been. The money was just a vague notion and housing only because he got left in a room...

Huh? Martin snapped back to attention, blinking a few times. "Oh, um. I just...picked something close. It was little." He started talking to the ground again.

"I don't know what it is."

"You have it on you?" Bariyan asked. There'd been a lot of items in the armory, many of which he hadn't recognized at all. Bariyan assumed that it could've easily been the same case for Martin. "The way they went on about your weapon, sounded like it could be useful. Not to them. To you."

Not that Bariyan had noticed any extra usefulness in his own magic. Granted, he hadn't gone and tested anything out yet.

"No," Martin replied, feeling guilty for it. All of the things he'd been given – except the key – had been left unceremoniously in the room as he darted out, desperate to leave. It just...it wasn't important to him. But slowing down, having to think it out...did they matter?

"M'sorry," he muttered. "I left it behind."

ooc; i'll have no internet until monday so forgive my radio silence!

"You do remember where you left it, at least?" Bariyan asked. It didn't matter to him one way or another, of course -- in fact, there was a distinct possibility that the quality of Bariyan's life had a negative correlation to the quantity of Martin's weapons.

He fixed Martin with another stare. "It's not important right now. Just keep that in mind for later."

It seemed as though he meant to say more, but Bariyan abruptly cut himself off. Let Martin muse on the why of that himself, for now.

[ ooc: no problem! see you then :D ]

Martin nodded in reply – twice – only giving a nasally sort of sound under the stare. It was probably a mistake to have left it anyhow, he figured; he was making all sorts of those lately. The uneasy feeling in his stomach was going to be a permanent resident, he figured.

Silence persisted with a number of doubled footfalls, becoming like war drums in his ears for as long as Martin endured it. Soon unbearable, it pushed him to actually speak, a shaken whisper after an initial burst of sound.

"What-- happens if I forget?"

"Then you rely on that magic of yours," Bariyan said, immediately. He had no idea whether it was magic or some sort of alien technology, of course, but in his opinion the two equated to the same thing anyway. As far as he was concerned, even the netbooks were 'magic'.

They cleared the buildings and came down to a road, empty and dimly lit.

"Anyway," Bariyan said, figuring he better make good on his promise to tell Martin what he knew, "you can't see from here, but this place is surrounded by water. We're on an island. And we're meant to stay on it."

Martin's shoes scuffed a step as he hurried to make up the distance building; every time something new came into play and he had to think about it, he'd slow, only to realize it and play catch-up. About then, his mouth opened to protest magic, but the time passed and he clammed up again, dropping his eyes to their feet and find the right distance.

Island meant nothing to him. He'd never heard of it before. Surrounded by water sounded more like near a big lake in his head...sort of. His mouth twisted into a frown as he started thinking hard on it, steps slowing once again. He didn't see any water around...

His head snapped up again, trotting another couple steps to catch up. "But why?" he blurted, his tone taking a huffed turn as he sped up. "I can't stay here right now."

"They don't care about you," Bariyan said. He'd slowed his pace down, so that Martin didn't have to skip to keep up. "They don't care about any of us. We got brought in here to fight their war, that's all."

He comes to a halt then, and gestures vaguely towards their surroundings. "Running away or trying to get off this island won't help you, anyway. This isn't your world. You were brought here through... magic, or something. I'm not sure. I don't think anyone's sure."

Island again. That...that and all the rest, it wasn't making a whole lot of sense to him. Martin shuffled to a stop, taking a step back once Bariyan had stopped, looking up at him, watching his profile features as he spoke.

Of course it isn't his...his world. Home. However anyone wanted to say it. That was obvious. But talking about magic didn't make it make any more sense – not to Martin, anyway. And Bariyan didn't sound any more certain, either.

"I'm not," he uttered, low and to the ground.

"Yes," Bariyan said, with a shrug. Of course he wasn't sure. Bariyan was, quite frankly, surprised that no one seemed to recall the exact circumstances of their arrival, but that seemed to be the truth of it.

He scratched the back of his neck, and collected his thoughts together in one spiel. "So. I don't know how you got here, I don't know how I got here, no one does. I can tell you that we didn't come from any place across the water, which is why I suggest you don't wander off. Won't get you anywhere."

Martin looked up and watched him talk, giving up all his attention to the task rather than allow himself to get bogged down by his misgivings right away.

It sure was a lot of no, though...He didn't like where it was going. Maybe it's a trick? Even if the tempering stones didn't work... He blinked a couple times, trying to clear his train of thought.

"But," he grimaced, looking around the street. "Where am I supposed to go...?" I have to get back.

"You stay put for now," Bariyan said, knowing full well that Martin wouldn't like that answer at all. "Look around. You want out, then you look for the people who brought you in."

Which was, of course, much easier said than done. Bariyan was fairly certain that most of the native residents here didn't know anything. And he was almost as certain that the guides who'd been their first point of contact would be just as unhelpful. And beyond that... he'd yet to look for higher authorities. It hadn't been much of a concern of his, so far.

The people who brought me in...

Martin stared past him as he processed it. The lady, the one who walked him around, said about a hundred things with only a few making a lick of sense. He could look for the lady, or...or someone who wasn't like Bariyan.

A resident, that was. Living or otherwise, since that...that seemed optional. And confusing.

His gaze flickered back, mouth a thin, taut line. With seconds passing, Martin finally gave a small nod, shoulders sagging with his exhale.

Look for the people who brought me in.

Bariyan had been watching for Martin's reaction-- and the very near lack of one was somewhat surprising. He figured there'd have been more confusion, at the very least.

He just hoped this sudden acceptance wasn't a prequel to another attack.

"One other thing," Bariyan said. "Off the island -- if you do go -- it's a completely different land. Apparently the people out there don't like us much."

'Us' didn't feel like the right word to use there. Bariyan didn't feel real kinship with anyone here just yet, and certainly not with Martin. But semantics weren't much of a concern here.

Off the island...which meant away from the water? Martin was sure he hadn't seen any; his brow crinkled as he tried to remember. The land right there in front of him was different enough – he couldn't really imagine it being any worse than it was already.

People not liking his kind was natural, too; maybe it was the land here that was off? What with...with a dead person walking, talking, and offering advice. Martin's mouth tugged down in an uneasy frown, feeling the weight of alienation and befuddlement again.

"Alright," he replied, automatic. It took him a second after saying it to actually accept it, looking back up and taking a bracing breath. "I'll remember."

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