sixthiterationlogs | Is this what you want of me?

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Is this what you want of me?

WHO: Erik Lehnsherr
WHERE: The storage rooms, the village headed for the woods
WHEN: June 16
OPEN TO: Anyone
WARNINGS: None yet

He had thought, for a few days, that perhaps they had just missed each other. They're both busy, after all, and they don't live in the same place. They hadn't seen each other every day anyway. But after days of not seeing her around, and seeing no signs of her at her house, Erik has been forced to the conclusion that Claire is now among those who have disappeared from this place. One more loss to add to the list. It hasn't gotten any easier to handle than it ever has been before, but at least this time he can't tear the world apart just by thinking about it. Good for the world, but bad for him.

It's a good thing he lives alone, because the chair that he sends flying across the room to crash into a wall could have hurt someone. Instead the only harm is to the chair itself as it splinters. It's the sight of them, and the awareness that now he doesn't have that chair for sitting in anymore, that gets through to him. There has to be a more productive way of dealing with this.

Whoever's behind this. They brought him here, they brought her here, they must have taken her away again. They're the ones he should mad at. There's just one problem: he doesn't know who they are. Or how to find them. Or what he could do about it even if he found one of them. But he's not a quitter; there have to be answers out there somewhere, and he won't find them by remaining here.

It only takes an hour. He empties out the backpack from his arrival and fills it back up again, with an extra set of clothes, a little food, blankets, any supplies he has lying around. Then he heads to the communal store rooms to see what he can find. No tent, but he grabs an Army tarp and a rope. He can rig something up with those. A survival kit, and a hatchet, for chopping wood. Everything he might need for a wilderness camping trip.

They've found places belonging to them before, though he hasn't heard of it happening since their arrival in this new place. There must still be places out there somewhere, and he's not returning to the village until he finds one. Does he actually know how to survive out in the woods for that long? No, but that's no concern to him. He'll do what he always does: wing it.

With his backpack loaded up and his arms full, he sets out in a random direction, headed for a place where he thinks something had been found before.

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Helen often headed out into the woods in order to gather medicinal herbs and while it was slightly more dangerous now that she didn't know the terrain as well as she had before the world changed on her, she still didn't feel afraid. There were those who were familiar sights here - Beverly, Mark, the young blonde woman she knew by association as Karen. This man, though, was not familiar. She squinted a bit as she watched him hike, seemingly with purpose, and called out.

"Do you know where you're headed?" She recognized him as she did many of the long term residents but a name wasn't coming to mind.

He turns to look behind him when someone calls out to him, and then glances back at the terrain in front of him. It hadn't occurred to him yet that he doesn't know where he's going, beyond some vague idea.

"There are places out there that have been used by the people behind this. I'm going to find one."

It also hasn't crossed his mind that just because the pods existed in their previous location doesn't mean they exist in this one.

"That's all fine and good but the terrain's a bit different than it used to be," Helen warned. She'd been intimately familiar with the woods and cliffs of their former home but since they woke up, for lack of better verbiage, she was at a loss.

"How experienced are you in camping and orienteering? If you're...well, it might be that you need some help out here."

For the first time since he had this idea, he's had to think about how much of a plan he doesn't have. Which would be anything beyond 'go out and find something.' Now that he thinks about it, it's not much of a plan.

"I've done some camping. Beyond that, not as much."

"I hadn't intended on being out here for a terribly long time," Helen confessed, "but if you'd like help getting to your site and setting up camp, I have a free moment."

Since the appearance of camping supplies, Helen had thought about it herself. One of the things about being in a village of a few dozen people was that everyone knew you and it was just busy enough that people naturally drifted into conversation. Alone time had to be sought outside village boundaries for it to have any success.

It's not alone time he seeks; he gets plenty of that in his house at the end of the day. More now than he used to, and he doesn't like it. That's his reason for this attempt.

Of course it would be a lot simpler just to head to the inn and make a new friend.

He turns back to look at the woods. He's not even sure where he's heading for his campsite. "I don't know where I'm headed for the moment, but if you've got time, I could use a hand."

Or someone to talk him out of this.

"Well, I've nowhere to be at this exact moment so I'm happy to volunteer," Helen said. She offered a hand to him, deciding now would be a good time for a formal introduction since she knew his face but not his name.

"I'm Helen Magnus, by the way. I know your face so I imagine you might have been here a while but I don't think I've had the pleasure."

"By now it would be over a year." He doesn't know exactly how long he's been here, but he's been through two winters. He shakes her hand. "Erik Lehnsherr."

His hand falls back at his side. "The village layout is the same. If the observation pods are in the same locations, then there should be one in that direction."

"I haven't tested that theory but there's no time like the present," Helen agreed. "It would stand to reason that if the basic layout of the villages has remained, those observation pods would still be there."

She tapped her mouth lightly, thinking. "And there are things in there I want more of a chance to research. I never got to look at the documents for very long last time I was in one."

"You saw some documents?" Automatically he's even more interested. He'd seen the pods before, but hadn't been looking for documents. "I tried to find a way in to the one with the blood samples in it, but had no luck."

This time though he'd just take any of the pods that he can find. Anything that might provide a clue.

"I went to the one that opened first, back when we chased the wendigo. There were some documents there about genetic manipulation, about splicing together chimeras essentially. I wasn't able to remove any of them," she explained.

"I wonder if it's related to the blood samples," she mused. "It would stand to reason it might be different phases of the same experiment."

That's enough, right there, to get him to stop in his tracks. Those are words he never wanted to hear, and when combined with the knowledge that the people behind this have their blood? Now he's got twice the reasons to want to be somewhere that isn't here.

"Genetic manipulation?"

And, well, experiments. There's that too.

He needs to get out of this place.

"From what I could tell? Yes. Considering I've tampered with my own genetics in the past, I'm not keen on others making the choice for me. It's not exactly what I'd call ethical - it was one thing to do it to myself, quite another if they're planning to do it to us against our will."

Helen frowned a bit. "I'll help you try to find one of those pods and see what we can find, all right?"

He nods. That will do for him. He starts walking in the direction they agreed on. "I was born with a genetic mutation." A lot of people are, sure, some obvious, some not so much. But most people who are born with a mutation aren't born with one that makes them part of a different species. "It allows me to manipulate anything metal, and magnetic fields themselves."

He doesn't know how she'll take that, but she seems to be scientifically-minded. Hopefully she'll take it in stride. "Can I ask, why did you tamper with your genetics?"

"Honestly? Because I'd studied those like you who were born with mutations and thought it might be a clever idea. I wasn't blessed with forethought as a young woman."

She'd been impetuous and rash. "What I do is champion the cause of the different - I provide them with a safe place to live and be themselves. I find that it helps when they know that I, too, am different."

Studied them. That admission could have turned out poorly for her, given the things that have been done by some of those who studied mutants. "I've never heard of anyone wanting to be a mutant before." At least not those who hadn't been born as one.

He wonders for a moment what her world is like. "You give people like me a place to live? Back home, people seem more concerned with wiping us out."

"In mine too," Helen agreed. "Humans always react with violence against those things they don't understand. It's a defense mechanism, though sometimes with poor and erratic results. I provide a place that mutants, if you will, can live freely and without fear. That has always been my goal. Sometimes it's difficult to live alongside the human population."

There was talk about the village about various places in the woods that she hadn't seen. It was the shrine that had her intrigued. While she didn't expect to find an altar similar to those belonging to her family, she still hoped to see something familiar. That seemed to be common in this world, everything was odd but bordered on the edge of recognizable. It was almost like a glimpse of home, meant to tease her or torture her, though she hadn't lingered very long on the thought, preferring to accept this as it was.

She didn't seem to be the only one interested in the woods that day, as a larger man with a pack appeared to be venturing out as well. She only had a basket at her side, holding a small meal and the crocdog at her heels.

While still uncertain of those she hadn't met, she approached him, quickening her pace until she was at his side. "Are you going exploring as well?"

He gives the crocdog barely a glance -- he's seen them around by now -- and shifts his pack from one side to the other. "I suppose that would be a term for it. I don't know precisely where I'm going, so I'm unsure where I'll end up."

He may not have thought about this very much.

"You could follow me? I heard there were shrines in the woods and I wanted to see them for myself." She needed to know if there was an altar, what sort of gods oversaw this island. If there was anyone in particular that brought them here or even if her family was involved at all. It was better than simply wondering and doing nothing.

"If you have no thoughts on where you go or where you will end, then there is no harm in sharing the path with someone else? You seem as though you are carrying a great deal." Not a pack or tools, but something on his mind.

A shrine isn't exactly what he's looking for, but it could be helpful anyway. Shrines don't occur naturally, which means someone put them there. Presumably whoever put everything else here, which is what he's determined to find out.

"I would like to see these shrines."

He seemed to be aimless and wandering, though some people preferred solitude in those moments. She was glad, however, that he agreed to follow her. The company would be a relief. While she trusted herself in the woods, it would be nice to have someone else. She didn't have her magic or her draughts, there was no other means of protection available for her.

"Come. I'm Circe."

He doesn't have much in the way of protection himself, but at least he knows how to use an axe. Hopefully that won't be necessary. There have been some threats, but if they're careful, they should be able to avoid those.

"Erik. You're a new arrival then?"

"I am, I arrived a few weeks ago." A time length that hadn't meant very much to her before, but now she felt the length of every second. The prolonged monotony of time. "It was after some had been taken from the village and placed in different locations. I was told they found a shrine, something similar to what was in the old village. Have you been there before?"

She had a rudimentary map, but didn't intend to use it very much. The point of this was exploration.

"To a shrine? I haven't." He hadn't even heard about them before now, but he hasn't been involved in much since arriving in this new village. "I was in the old village though. This one is the same, but different. I don't quite know how to explain it."

There's a pretty good amount of banging and the distinct sounds of rummaging coming from the storeroom, and Mulcahy's going to go take a look. Yes, everything in there is free to borrow (and he's fully aware by now that some things in there most people would be only too happy if they "disappeared" entirely and never returned), but that's a fairly unusual amount of noise coming from somewhere most people only need to spend a minute, maybe two. He remembers all too many instances in the army of people trying to hoard things for various reasons, and maybe he's being overly cautious, but it's something he'd rather just keep an eye out for in order to stop any... unfortunate circumstances.

But in checking out the noise, he does find out exactly who's causing it. And the man searching through the stacks of equipment looks a little... frantic, not entirely certain to be thinking straight. Concerned, Mulcahy steps into the door, unconsciously blocking it. "Erik? Is everything all right?"

That his rummaging attracted attention shouldn't be surprising to him, but it is. He gets laser-focused on one thing until something or someone comes along and pulls his attention away. Unfortunately he either hasn't recognized this about himself or doesn't care to make an effort to change it.

"There are no actual tents in here," he says as he shoves another pile aside. "All I've found so far is canvas and rope."

Deflecting. Ignoring the real issue. Another thing he excels at, and hasn't bothered to change.

"I thought for sure there were tents in that delivery that showed up during the change," Mulcahy mutters, for the moment swept up in Erik's intense drive to complete whatever task he's trying to do. He's always had a bit of an issue of his own with getting swept along with strong feelings, and at the moment he doesn't see any reason why Erik shouldn't grab a tent. "I'm pretty sure I tripped over one at some point."

Coming into the room fully (no longer blocking the door), Mulcahy begins on the other side of the room from Erik, sorting in a less focused way through a pile about a third of the way in. He doesn't find it, and switches to the next, and then in the third it finally shows. "Ahh, here we are! Much more waterproof than what I'm used to, I imagine." It's not a small tent, but it's compacted down to a fairly small size for something that manages to sleep four people. "Wanting to do a little camping, then?" he asks as he begins to remove it from under a couple of tool sets, an axe, and a shovel.

He hadn't been paying enough attention to the details of the change to notice, obviously. He's been more focused on the fact that someone else (in this case, an entirely unknown entity) had exerted control over him again. He doesn't yield easily, and particularly not to threats. Instead of interacting with the rest of the group, he'd retreated to his house, only coming out to find food.

"I want to find one of those pods, and they're too far to go in a day." So he'll need to do some camping.

That declaration is met with a puzzled look from the priest; he's heard about the pods, of course, but he's never seen one. He's not a scientist and technology isn't his forte; there's never been a pressing need for him to go looking for one.

"A pod? What do you want with one of them?" And now that the object has been located, he's coming out a little from Erik's frenzy, and it's dawning on him that he hasn't seen the other man in a bit. At least not for long, not for any sort of conversation, just a glimpse of him as he left the inn. "Who's going with you?"

He's not a scientist either, or that familiar with many forms of technology. His interest in the pods is related to neither of those. It's more personal. It still rankles him that there's a pod out there somewhere with their blood in it, and no one determined when it was taken, or for what purpose.

"They should have clues about who's behind this." Theoretically, anyway, and he's okay with that. "I haven't asked anyone to go with me."

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Is this what you want of me?

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Near the Woods

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Inn

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