July Arrivals

[sixthiteration]

WHO: Arrivals
WHERE: The fountain park
WHEN: July 1, 12:00 PM
OPEN TO: ALL
WARNINGS: N/A
STATUS: CLOSED

---

In the snug circle of an old park, a fountain sits burbling beneath a broad, midday sky.

Once-neat paving stones have buckled and cracked from the slow nudge of wayward roots. Benches stand covered in lichen and rust. Three paths push into the underbrush like the spokes on a wheel, the encroaching forest creating lush tunnels through the dark.

But the fountain stands singular and pristine, brightly splashing in open rebellion of the deep, muffled sounds of a place long ago gone to seed. A vibration hums through the ground, there and quickly gone, and the water in the fountain trembles, lapping against the high walls of its cool, pale reservoir.

It is the first of July.

It is precisely twelve o'clock in the afternoon.

Comments

[tobeclosetohim]

"Maybe." Is the most Jo gives him.
It's pissed, but far too sharply true.


No one knew who truly put together Milliways.
No one knew who flash-Banged them into the Apocalypse.
No one knew why they were brought to Medietas's floating islands.


Sure. Someone. Somewhere. Yeah, they probably knew. Probably did it. But it didn't absolutely mean they'd find them. Not that she wasn't still quite ready to peel someone's skin off for some answers. But this was a lot more what she expected than the last place. Confused, angry people, and not bystanders handing them phones, house numbers, and knowing their names. "It doesn't always work like that."

Beat. "Not that I'm fully game to beat the fuck out of anyone who does have their hands in making this happen."

[dnr]

Frank huffs a rough approximation of a laugh out from under about two tons of anger and shakes his head, grinding out, "Guess we've got that in common." The desire to beat the fuck out of people, that is.

And reigning in that urge isn't an easy task. Frank steps back from the fountain, wet boots pacing a few steps around the arc of its perimeter as he looks up and around, takes in the cement and foliage surrounding him. What the hell.

"And what makes you so goddamn calm about it?" he asks finally, because sure, she's pissed, and he appreciates not being the only one, but she's not chomping at the bit.

[tobeclosetohim]

[ ACK! I'm so sorry for forgetting to edit that! ]

That breath of a laugh, maybe surprised or maybe appreciative, she isn't entirely sure which or what, is all too familiar, as are the words that follow. The slightly manic grin that doesn't seem entirely out of place for the people she's known, and both been surrounded by since birth and surrounded herself with since getting out of that dodge even. The effect of which draws a sharp sort of crook tilt to her mouth, almost at a smile.

At least she wasn't surrounded on all sides by pansies and wallflowers.



The question and the lightness from his words before makes her first response a little sassier. "Lack of a target."


Even if slightly more realism follows that up with, "And experience."

[dnr]

Frank turns his head back to take a proper look at her. Good answer. It earns a note of something like warmth from him — not much, he's not that easy, but the rhythm of her sass is familiar to him, a not unpleasant surprise in an otherwise kind of shitty situation. If he's going to be abducted by parties unknown, at least he'll have decent company.

"What kind of experience would that be?" he asks without pausing his small survey of the clearing.

[tobeclosetohim]

It isn't that she isn't pissed, after all. She is, and she does pissed the way most hunters do. Sharp, biting, cold burn in wait, and merciless violence in exacting. She'd love to take whomever to task. But she's worlds past, multiverse-style, needing to actually and actively attack the wrong people for it. Drowned rats crawling out of a fountain, looking lost, confused, angry and everything else, those aren't the target.

At least she's about 90% sure of that. She's still keeping an eye on just who is getting belched out of that thing.
She doesn't have a reason to trust the people who are appearing, or to believe any of their motivations they give up.


"The wrong kind, in the wrong places." Notably the most insane places across universes. At least she was mostly certain it was across different universes, and not just across the same universe, but it wasn't as though knowing that with any certainty was her forte. She knew the dimension was elsewhere, from Milliways, that was both home and everywhere else.

After. Well, those ones were a lot more complicated to quantify and there hadn't been anyone on hand who knew.

[dnr]

He'd been wondering if she had a military background - is still wondering, really, if she might be army or something, but the answer she gives isn't what he's expecting. As much as he's expecting anything right now, at least. He squints over at her sidelong.

"As opposed to what?" Some kind of right place? Is there a good way to learn the things that have keep you alive? He shakes his head. "Experience is experience - wherever it comes from, use it."

Which is what he intends to do, apparently, as he finishes he circuit of the fountain, adrenaline finally settling into an even sort of high alert that looks close enough to calm.

"You want to tell me what you've seen so far? Anybody else, any guards or anything?"

[tobeclosetohim]

That actually stops Jo for a second, because it's getting eerie. He sounds more like the type she grew up with than the other 98% she ends up surrounded with in these places. Even when she bunks down with those like her, together they still make it a nails curve sliver of the percentage of people pulled into these things. Except.

Except for last time. But. No. No, she's not going to think about. Not yet. Not now. Not with these people.

Jo looked off, back to the people gathering, helping each other. It makes her want to rub her arms and move more, but then so does this damn scratchy, billowy, stuck to her like a damp stamp off pants choice. "No one yet. I came in first, but no one's popped up to see what the commotion is over here."