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(no subject)

WHO: Vergil Sparda
WHERE: The Inn, In and around House 48.
WHEN: July 17/19th
OPEN TO: All
WARNINGS: None, will update.

The Inn
Waking in the morning, Vergil set about gathering up the few things he had. More people had arrived since he had, and despite knowing the Inn was the best place to be, namely with his lack of survival skills. He was a loner by nature and the inn was just to full for his liking. The journal he had grabbed up on the day of the quake shoved in his bag with the rest of the things he arrived with in the bag.

He left the door cracked, to make sure it was clearly vacant now, moving down the steps quickly, stopping long enough to get something to eat to tide him over for awhile. Not being able to have whatever he wanted just delivered really sucked. Even pizza sounded like a heavenly gift now after the past week or so.

Around House 48 and the Mill
Vergil had walked around the village, as he had tried to do each day, but the rains and the quake had hindered his plans mostly. He had made his way around looking at empty houses, not going in just looking for something aesthetically pleasing. As if that even mattered in the situation he had found his life in of late. Some habits were hard to break.

Even his old base for the Order had been beautiful in its decay. So when he wandered his way across the water to the Mill, he found a small group of houses past the mill. It was a house with red brick and blue trim that called to him. Walking up the steps it was easy to tell this place was unoccupied. He held tighter to the backpack over his shoulders and made his way on up through the yard pushing the door open, the months and months on months and months of dust fluttered around, he sneezed loudly at that but left the door open. The first thing he did was walk around and open all the windows. It was hard to turn off the voice in the back of his mind screaming open windows invite robbers... but really? This wasn't Limbo City, and it sure had nothing worth stealing.

The door stayed open left the backpack on the porch and went in search of anything he could use to get the dust up, no broom in sight he did however find linens and stupidly decided to use one of the sheets to try to clean the dust up with it. It quickly got dirty as could be. A pillow case came next to start cleaning some of the furniture. Every now and then he would have to step outside and start sneezing loudly. Being human sucked. It wasn't fair that he had to clean, he was almost tempted to go back to the inn, but he had already committed to the idea.

Before the sun set he had found a way to beat the dust out of the mattress after stripping it and the pillows. All the linens needed washed but he was to tired to care. A month ago he would have judged himself. Sleeping on a dusty bare bed sounded more like something Dante would do than himself. He wanted a shower as well, but he wasn't sure how well he trusted the running water yet, the house had a long way to go, and the dark of the night felt a lot more noticeable by himself, still he was exhausted so sleep came quickly.

After morning came, he gave the plumbing a shot, changing into his spare scrubs after a quick cold bath. His reflection in the dirty mirror almost disappointed him, but an idea struck. Running down to the kitchen he looked around. The kitchen had dishes, and other things. He hurried down through the yard once he found the largest pan, taking the dirty bed clothes with him, though he had no soap yet, he tried his best to get some of the filth off the sheets. It made his arms ache pulling the wet sheets out and wringing them, throwing the wet pillow cases in the pan. With wet sheets over his arms folded enough to keep them from dragging. He made his way back from the river. He looked at the mill a moment, tipping his head to the side. Another idea forming but for now he had a house to clean and a survival manual to read.

It was mid afternoon when he gave up for awhile and could be found sitting on the front porch with the sheets hanging off the porch's rails, and the Army survival manual in hand, reading quietly. The house still had a lot of work it needed, and he needed to figure out how to clean the gutters and check and see if the furnace could be cleaned, but for a spoiled rich kid, he was pretty proud of what he had gotten done even if his clothes were filthy. The stolen journal from the inn's storage room was open next to him as he quietly jotted notes.

Threaded | Flat

Bela hasn't left her house much since the earthquake happened. The house itself had suffered minimal damage, and in the chaos she twisted her ankle- to say that she was pissed off is an understatement. But she knew that staying inside all of the time wouldn't help her recovery, she needed to build up her strength again.

Which is why Bela has decided to venture outside today, aided with a stick to help her balance and a canvas bag slung over her shoulder. She was hoping to gather up some food and other supplies to last her for a few days, to save herself from going out multiple times.

On her way to the inn she passed by Virgil's house, noticing a man seated on the porch reading a book. He wasn't someone that Bela recognised but it reminds her of the day she arrived and how she found herself sitting outside her claimed home, wondering what the hell she was going to do.

That was over six months ago now.

Shifting onto her uninjured ankle she called out to the man. "New arrival or just bored with the decor?"

Danny was still learning about the village, the people and the world, and was trying to find his place in it. For the moment, he was happy at the inn. He had company and he felt as if he could lend a hand wherever a hand was lacking. He liked helping and the act often fought away the feeling of uselessness that had begun to gather like ice in his stomach.

He hated feeling helpless and that's what this world did.

His path cut through the village towards the river. He didn't know the river very well but he wanted to take a look and see if fishing was a real possibility. Danny could hunt but he'd never fished before and he wanted to give it a try. His steps slowed when he noticed the backpack sitting in front of a propped open door and then heard low disgruntled coughs from inside.

He didn't have to wait long for Vergil to emerge with a cloud of dust billowing behind him.

"Looks like you're having a rough time again." He smiled as he stepped up to the house. "What are you trying to do?" Danny really couldn't tell.

The small patch of houses beyond the mill were becoming occupied. There was a point where it had been quiet on this stretch of land, abandoned by former occupants. Then the red headed woman moved in nearby and now this lad (who appeared to be out of his element.) Lyanna had returned home after hunting, carrying a few rabbits and preparing to dress them. The dogs that Jon acquired ran about the house, smelling fresh meat and blood in the air. Rather than be stuck inside where it was stuffy, she preferred to do this business on the porch. At least then she could have some fresh air.

She watched the new arrival between her work, curious and uncertain. He was as odd looking as the rest and clearly not from her world. Though it was clear that he didn't know very much about cleaning. There were small mistakes someone would make if they had lived a life where others cleaned for them. She had done that as well, but a year here had cleared her of it.

"Slow going?" She called out to him when he was closer.

Jon took notice of anyone who was new to the village and was even more aware when said new person lived very near he and Lyanna. Their home was somewhat away from the main part of the village, far down the road, and yet Circe and now this new man were their neighbors.

The man had the Targaryen look. Jon had never met a Targaryen but he knew how they were described: platinum hair, light eyes. This man seemed to fit the description. Was this Rhaegar or some kin of his? He had no idea.

"You're new," Jon said, lifting a hand in greeting as he approached. "I thought it was only polite to introduce myself."

Druitt is, mostly, familiar with Vergil in passing. Not that it's surprising, mind. They've both been staying in the Inn, and for all that they might not really have spoken their paths have nonetheless crossed a time or two in passing.

It's only luck that has him spotting Vergil as he stops for a bite to eat before making his leave, and while they might not have spoken much before, the sight of the bag the other man is carrying with him is enough to have Druitt pausing for just a moment.

"Going somewhere?"

By the tone of his voice, he sounds more curious than anything else. He's hardly about to stop anyone from deciding to go anywhere else, but that doesn't mean he's about to simply ignore the sight either. Not when it's come so soon (comparatively speaking) after he first started seeing Vergil about the place.

Days and days had passed since Vergil had moved into his new home. A lot of work had gone into making it livable. He owed Danny a lot for helping him, and his neighbor, Circe. The linens were clean, his clothes were cleaner, he had actually changed it no a pair of jeans he had snagged from the inn's store room and a flannel shirt, a belt holding the pants up as they were just a little big for him, but not to bad. A size to big or a little more.

He was inside the house, with the windows open again, sitting in front of one of the bigger windows jotting notes from the survival manual into the journal he had snagged. He knew daylight was precious and he should be working, but he opted to just stay home for now. To work on his notes while he had the light of day.

Threaded | Flat

Outside House 48 (July 19th)

Outside House 48 (July 17th)

Outside House 48

house 48

Inn

House 48, July 25th