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[OTA] Is there life on Mars?

WHO: Sirius Black
WHERE: Fountain & Bridge outside of town
WHEN: 26 June, 28 June
OPEN TO: ALL - Please mind the notes for the prompts
WARNINGS: Standard Padfoot warnings

It's a God-awful small affair;

Open to ONE thread, fcfs

Sleeping was always a bit of a risky prospect within the hallowed walls of Azkaban prison. If you were the steady sort and could dutifully ignore the constant wailing, it was one of the few activities a prisoner could manage with any consistency. The trouble was, the ratio of steady to unsteady wasn't exactly through the roof to start, and it was nearly guaranteed that whatever marbles you brought in were well lost within weeks.

And a bad dream, the sort that everyone in the place eventually fell into, night sweats and jolting awake to a heart hammering in your ears? Like honey to the Dementors. Good luck staying sane then.

As a matter of fact, Sirius reckoned he was the sanest person in the joint, which didn't say much for the general level of mental health in the British wizarding prison system. And it was only being a dog most of the time that allowed him that dubious distinction — With a few notable exceptions, he'd spent most of his life as the dodgiest person in the room.

The days ran together, but he got his hands on a newspaper every now and then, and was clear enough on the date. Nearly five years he'd been locked in this cage, fueled by a deep-seated anger, his savior the very thing that had allowed his nemesis to escape (relatively) unscathed. The wailing didn't bother him anymore, nor the fleas. He gladly ate what slop he was given, and kept a sliver of his strength up by tenacity alone. He stayed a mangey black dog more often than not, and his sleep was blissfully simple.

The shift now he felt before waking, the heaviness of human thought sliding into the watery place between sleep and awareness—

Wait, no. That was actual water.

Sputtering, he surfaced with a spate of violent coughing, his arms skinny and wobbling as they pulled him over the lip of the fountain and to the worn stones surrounding it. On hands and knees, he hacked up the rest of his dinner, indifferent to the mess as he blinked into the startling brightness of a clear summer day.

So much for being the sanest person in the place.

To the seat with the clearest view;

OTA

As unlikely as it had seemed even then, at first Sirius had thought he'd been victim of an apparating accident. Granted, he'd not been trying to disapparate, and certainly wouldn't have been aiming for someplace so far from England, but it wasn't unheard of.

Well, unheard of from inside bloody Azkaban, but not generally.

But apparently that wasn't it at all, it was something that was odd enough and inexplicable enough that two full days later, he was still not entirely certain he hadn't simply, finally had the mental break loads of people had been predicting for years. Not that he was complaining, really; if this was what a mental break was like, he reckoned he ought to have had one years back — Free food that tasted better than he remembered anything ever tasting, free lodging with an actual bed with an actual mattress, loads of sunshine, a giant box full of cigarettes with his name on it, along with the freedom to go wherever he liked... If Peter had been here to strangle when he'd first arrived, it would've been practically paradise.

Presently, he was seated on the edge of the wooden bridge that crossed the river just outside of town, his long legs straddling one of the supports for the railing, idly swinging heavy black boots over the water while he smoked a cigarette and just took it all in. It was loud and quiet here all at the same time, all the sweet, everyday noises he didn't realize he'd forgotten replacing the cacophony he left back in prison.

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Well, add a cleanup kit to the fountain watch: from what he hears, people are coming in more often, and having a worse time of it of late. Half of them won't talk for days, Noctis could barely string a sentence together. At least the weather is cooperating--no water dried up or late snows, sudden hail to pelt the new transplants as they roll around and throw up.

Living as close as he does, with his chores varying by day and number of fucks, it's an easy shift to sit in the park with a spare towel and a bowl of peaches. Kira swats Hoshi from his shoulder to the back of the bench, handing him a peach pit to keep him occupied.

In a really fucked up way, watching the guy flop out and barf, the fountain is kind of how they're born. Thinking of everyone as a big shitty infant certainly lowers his expectations for first words and hand eye coordination, and makes him appreciate that nobody comes through naked.

Especially Skeletor here. For once, Kira actually is one to talk.

Crouching down outside of arm's reach, he leads with the towel, dangled into view. "The whole what is your name, who is the president bit hasn't been going well of late," he says, not expecting any real reply. "But I've got peaches and optional medical care, if you want either."

"The wha— The pre-president," Sirius echoed in a voice painfully rough from disuse, the word then tumbling into a wheezing peal of laughter that sent him toppling over, splayed out on his back across the stones, matted hair missing the sick by a centimeter or less. It hurt a bit, the laughing, but it was equally as brilliant, the fucked absurdity of it all, his body bunching in on itself as he coughed out the sound.

Without warning, he was on wobbly feet, immediately in the stranger's face and the laughter ended as he stared down at him with wide, sunken eyes. "Do you have a mirror—" he began, and then snapped his attention to the raven pecking listlessly at a seed lodged between the slats of a nearby bench. Sirius lunged that way, turning only when he was at the bench, the bird cawing at him with a warning slap of its wings.

"Is this your bird?" he demanded, eyes fully wild now. "Can it carry a message?"

Except... who would he write? Remu— no. Dumbledore? Maybe.

Edited 2018-06-27 06:56 (UTC)

Danny is about to cross the bridge when he spots the guy and he decides to stop for a chat. The detective doesn't have anywhere useful to be right this minute and from what he can tell this is someone new. He could make sure to get their name for the census.

He knocks on the wood of the bridge to alert the other to his presence as he leans against the railing an arm's length away. His own scrubs have a few marks on them, signs of daily wear and his hair is a bit of a mess from the lack of hair products. But overall he looks good, having gained a bit of strength and a tan being out working a lot.

"Peaceful isn't it?"

The knock seemed far away, and it took a moment for Sirius to pull his attention from the burbling water to the man standing above him, as cheerful as the yellow sunshine. A far cry from himself, sunken cheeks and a fine tremble in his fingers where they held his cigarette. At least he was clean, which was more than he could say three days ago.

"It is," Sirius allowed with a nod, his voice still sandpaper rough. "It's been awhile since I've seen anything like it."

Danny takes it all in. Being a cop he has seen his fair share of people who look like they've been on the rougher side of life and he softens slightly. He doesn't have any indication that this guy is a danger after all.

"Yeah, I've lived in cities all my life and sometimes it still surprises me how quiet it is out here. I am Danny, by the way"

"Sirius," he offered in return, and motioned to the spot beside him on the bridge. "You're welcome to join me, if the smoke won't bother you." Because he most assuredly wasn't going to be putting the cigarette out until he was good and ready, not after five years without.

"It's loud in a different way, I think," he added, sliding a look back to the river streaming out beneath them. "The water and wind, the birds." Someone was hammering in the distance, too, the noise rolling out over the rooftops and fading against the trees. The detail was so mundane, so fucking ordinary, it was nearly overwhelming all on its own.

"Nice to meet you." Danny smiles and settles down next to him. The smoke doesn't bother him that much."Don't me started on the birds. There is some right next to my bedroom window that likes to start screaming at the crack of dawn. It is impossible to sleep in." Danny's default mode is ranting about something.

And that was mundane, too, the privilege of ranting about the early birds and the sanctity of the dawn. Sirius had heard them himself that morning, but he'd already been awake, laying in his bed as he watched the light slip over the window ledge.

"I've come from a mad house, mate, so I'll take the birds screaming over what I used to wake up to any day," he said now, and took a slow drag from his cigarette.

Danny blinks. Stunned into silence for once. That was very much not what he had expected to hear as a response. For a few minutes, he just sits there, looking at the water.

"Makes sense." He finally says, a lot quieter now. "Sorry." And he is, his rant had been inconsiderate when he didn't know shit about this guy. "You've been here long? I don't think I've seen you around before." Yes, desperately try to change the subject.

"Nothing to be sorry for, you didn't put me there," Sirius replied, eyebrows briefly pinching as he looked back to Danny. Could be he was actually sorry he was sitting next to a madman; probably best, then, that he didn't know he was also sitting beside a convicted murderer.

"A couple of days. Still trying to sort it all out, to be honest."

Considering some of the people Danny's both worthed with and for that matter put behind bars himself it might be just as well he doesn't know.

"Yeah, that can take some time. This place is pretty new to us all though. A few months ago we all came from the last place we'd been to this one. But if you need a place to sleep or someone to show you around let me know and I'll do what I can to help."

Oh good, he was fucking crazy. "Oh good, you're fucking crazy," Kira said, all the self preservation of a bird seeing his twin in a window. "He probably could, he just can't traverse the material components of String Theory to deliver it anywhere useful."

And all of your friends were long dead and fake, by certain measures, so: have a peach.

Kira shoved himself up to follow, clicking his tongue more to remind Hoshi of his existence than to give any command. The crow leapt away from its nuisance and returned to being one on his shoulder, picking up a lock of hair--something Kira assumed he found soothing.

"We have mirrors, bathrooms--towels," he added, prepared to fling his and head somewhere with witnesses if this went south. "Do you want to sit down, or do you want to swan over to the inn with all the grace of a reanimated rotisserie chicken?"

The acrid smell of smoke impedes his forward momentum, two large dogs hot on the heels of one of those strong, silent types. The scent reminds him distinctly of Chloe, hardly anyone else in Reims had cigarettes and she had to hoard the few she did come by as it was. There are even much fewer people here in comparison, too, so he would've noticed a smoker among them before. The one dog, a slim black German Shepherd, keeps running along ahead when Frank stops, his soft step tapping out an echo onto the wood bridge's surface. He holds his breath when it's louder than he bargained for, but turns to face the stranger anyway. The black-and-tan bloodhound remains obediently at his heel, panting curiously as she flashes a look to Frank to see if it's okay to approach. Aurora has no such qualms, looping back around and colliding her pointy nose with the guy's leg, sniffing aggressively. YOU SMELL NEW. I'm A DOG!!

There's a weary, but bemused look on Frank's face as he slides his hands into jean pockets. Training her is going much slower than Aretha for obvious reasons. Most of which are that he returns her to Kira and it undoes all his progress from the day before. Still, there's no apology to be found in his gaze. Aurora is a sweetheart even if she's a little excitable. Anyone who doesn't like her is someone to keep his eye on anyway.

A rotisserie chicken sounded bloody glorious, and achieving one by hook or crook instantly jumped onto Sirius' to-do list. There were, however, matters a great deal more pressing.

"Where are we?" he demanded, stepping closer to the bloke again, only to have the bird take a swipe from his perch with a click of its beak. Sirius snapped his teeth instantly back, and then swiveled his attention to the owner.

"Who are 'we'? I need an owl." At present, he had no money to pay for one, didn't even have the parchment or ink to write note it would carry, but that could be sorted later. "Where can I hire an owl?"

"The basic bits I think I've got sorted," Sirius replied, and offered a faint smile. It still felt strange to smile at all, almost as if he'd forgotten he was capable.

"Got a room, know where to eat, wash, piss. It's all the rest I'm a bit wobbly on. The grand existential questions of the universe — Am I really here at all?" He lifted his cigarette again, and then slid a look Danny's way, squinting. "What do you reckon, Danny boy? Is this heaven or hell?"

"Neither I think." He glances over at Sirius. "I have been much worse places so it can't be hell. But if it is heaven then I'd like to file a complaint. Purgatory maybe."

He shrugs. "Or maybe this is just another simulation."

The reaction was instantaneous, really — Things were just simpler with dogs, whether you were with one or were one. Sirius, being a bit of both at the moment, reached immediately to ruffle the fur of his new companion, to lean in and whisper gruffly against a velvety ear, to nose at the long, lean snout. In no time at all, they were tangled on the wooden slats of the bridge, rolling playfully into each other, the still lit cigarette being held dutifully aloft the only indication Sirius didn't believe himself as fully canine as his wrestling partner.

"Up in my personal space," he answered, dumping the towel onto dripping hair and, in the motion to drop his hand, pressing the guy back by his sternum. Which he could feel entirely too much of under those scrubs.

The question, and the realization that it might not be a trite crazy person reference to Alice or her cousin the Jabberwocky--infinite dumb universes meant one might involve this obsession with birds--didn't improve his opinion. Wherever the man was from, he was still off, but so were half the people he took the subway home with at four in the morning.

Or the old him had, or--whatever. Crazy is a little relative, these days. "We don't have any, and you're a lot further from where you want them to fly your...messages, or whatever. Sit down, eat something, I'll tell you what I can."

Edited 2018-06-29 22:04 (UTC)

Frank rolls his eyes good-naturally when they two tumble and wrestle across the bridge. He doesn't discourage the rough-housing, merely trying to steer them not into the water. That would be a bad day for everyone, he thinks, even if it might be funny at first. Aretha looks at him and Frank nods, and the bloodhound bursts forward to get involved by lapping sloppy kisses all over Sirius' face while he's downed. The Mayor finds himself biting the inside of his lip against a bigger grin. Maybe he's finally met his match in dog person af mode. He's impressed with it, in any case.

Patience had never been one of Sirius' particular virtues. Nearly five years locked behind the bars of Azkaban might have winnowed away other, less firmly-entrenched aspects of his person and personality, but whatever patience he had shown inside had been necessity rather than the result of any personal reflection.

When he asked a question, a simple fucking question, he expected an answer, not to have a towel thrown over his head and pushed bodily back as if he were a strident mare. One hand whipped the towel to the dusty ground as the other stabbed forward, thin but tenacious fingers locking over the other man's skinny little throat.

"Where. Are. We," he growled, ragged, grimy nails pressing into the erratic thrum of a pulse. "Tell me now."

It should matter more that this was happening. Really, it should matter more that a man had just come out of a previously empty fountain, and that Kira should be just as far around the bend for having seen it. They should both be horrified, and Kira should feel it from him, and know it, and care. He used to care. He had an entire journal, in his handwriting, the pages bloated with use and weather and giving a shit.

His breath wheezed in, his shoulders went tense, but he was tall enough that the grip held him back, not up. The squeeze of fingertip to tendon was part of his sneer, and he sucked what air he could through his teeth.

Fuck you, miss new asshole. One hand took the man by the wrist, the other batted Hoshi back from, presumably, clawing out his eyes. Kira swung his leg up twice, first to knee him in the balls, then to kick him soundly in the hip, letting those ratty nails scratch across his throat in the dismount. The crow bustled and clawed between them, catching Kira's arm as much as anything, as he warded the fucker off with a warning hand and coughed into his elbow. "On another planet, in another dimension--choose your own adventure and next time, buy me dinner first."

Edited 2018-06-30 02:57 (UTC)

Her crocdog was always at her side whenever she left the house, preferring to keep her company than roam freely as the other animals in her care did. While he might not afford much protection, it was comforting to have him nearby, more so when she ventured out of the village alone. There was little reason to be wary of the others living here, but that natural suspicion was difficult to remove, not after hundreds of years alone.

The man seated on the side of the bridge was unfamiliar to her, dark and carrying an air of foreboding. She understood danger enough to sense something in him, whether it was a threat or not, it was difficult to tell. Instinctively, she reached for her pouch, wanting to feel her potions close at hand, but there was nothing. Her magic was limited now.

"You are new?" She asked, her crocdog charging ahead of her to greet him.

This wasn't heaven or hell. On that count Sirius felt certain. It seemed impossible the fruition of so much waiting might be cut so cruelly from him. No, he was going to find Peter and kill him, even if it took the rest of his life to do it.

But some sort of purgatory, maybe. He hummed briefly, consideringly. There was something impermanent-feeling about the place, but he wasn't unaware that there was only one place he'd been all of his life that had felt otherwise.

"Hold on," he added after a moment, jerking his attention fully back Danny. "What do you mean, another simulation?"

"A couple of months back we were in a different place that was a lot like this. Minus the crazy animals. And then we all got pulled through the fountain again. We had long hair and beards and looked like we had been asleep for a long time."

As could be expected, the cigarette was lost to the fray. Sirius turned his head just in time to see the pale blur of it bounce off one of the wooden slats with an anry puff of sparks, and then slip through the adjacent gap and down to the surging water below. He had plenty more, so the loss hardly mattered, but even if he hadn't, he might not have cared. This was as normal as he'd felt in over five years.

Outnumbered, he eventually gave up, splayed back across the boards with his hair a wild halo, legs still hooked at the knee over the edge of the bridge. The dogs settled a bit, too, feverish kisses giving way to gentle nudges to be petted as Sirius slid his gaze to the figure standing nearby.

"Evening," he said, as if this all were perfectly normal.

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[OTA] Is there life on Mars?

It's a God-awful small affair;

To the seat with the clearest view;

Fountain

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