transport log » ❝ welcome to Exsilium ❞

[initiates]

Date & Time: Sept 23rd, 2012.
Location: The Initiative Hold & Courtyard.
Characters: Everyone.
Summary: New Transports have all arrived and have been shuffled into the Courtyard after their initial briefings.
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. "This isn't standard," she's saying, walking perhaps faster than most of the people she's dragging around. "We don't normally have so many Transports at once. 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. 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. 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

[onblackwings]

[ WELL YOU BETTER MAKE TIME!!! Khisanth waits to put a few paces between them, and only then does she start out after her.

She has the... feeling that she's handling this encounter really badly, though. A real human would probably be more friendly, right? She frowns as she walks, trying to work out how to fix this. ]

[payback]

[OH KHISANTH. It's okay. Rin will forgive her later. Probably. Maybe.

In the meantime she just walks along, slipping through the crowd with the occasional glance back to make sure she still has Khisanth in tow. Thinking she should've asked this girl about shoes, but Khisanth doesn't seem too uncomfortable. Huh.

In a few minutes she stops at the front step.]

Well, this is it. Home sweet home!

[onblackwings]

[ She stops as well, casting a doubtful glance up at the outside. It doesn't look like much. It's definitely nowhere she would seek to stay as a dragon, but... well, humans have different needs, she supposes.

She glances over to Rin, and tries on a small smile. ]

Thank you for your help.

[ There, that was pretty human of her, right?? ]

[payback]

[Oh, what a pleasant change! Rin gives her a small smile in return.]

Yeah, well... good luck, anyway. Get some shoes, your feet will get cold.

[onblackwings]

[ oops there goes the smile, and she just... stares blankly. ]

Some what?

[payback]

[Weird look... as Rin points slowly at her own feet... which are safely ensconced in shoes...]

Shoes. You know? For your feet?

[onblackwings]

[ ...Oh. She looks down, then promptly back up again, trying to swallow the embarrassment and irritation that it brings. ]

I know that. I didn't hear you correctly.

[ ...shit, she's gonna have to find some of those. Where do you get the shoe-coats?? ]

[payback]

Um, okay... [Weird girl.] You can, y'know, find them in the market around here. It might be hard to find ones that fit but it helps... with walking around and stuff...

[onblackwings]

[ Wow, are humans really so weak that they need help with walking? She looks seriously unimpressed for a few seconds, but nods. And, while she still has Rin, here's a far more important question: ]

Where do I find food?

[payback]

`[A weird look in turn. Rin gestures back whence they came...]

Out there. You've kind of got to pick through. Everyone's selling a bit, you know?

[onblackwings]

[ She glances back over her shoulder, frowns a little, but nods. A quick look back at Rin, considering. She should probably play nice at her again... ]

Thanks for your help.

[ Yeah, that'll do. And off she goes, striding back for the market place. The apartments can wait, apparently. Food is way more important. ]

[payback]

[Rin is okay with that brusque departure. What a strange girl, she thinks, as she heads off on her own business. At least whatserface tried. Apparently.]