sixthiterationlogs | [MINGLE] Wendi-go-go to the inn

[MINGLE] Wendi-go-go to the inn

WHERE: 6I Village and Inn
WHEN: 27-31 July
OPEN TO: ALL - Mingle
NOTES: The Wendigo threatening the village will be killed mid 28 July, with a Blue Lily, per these threads. Plot details here. Note: The final fight is close enough to be seen from the upstairs inn windows.
WARNINGS: Wendigo attack mingle, please warn in comment headers if discussing violence, gore, or related trauma. Possible mentions of character death.

The urgent warnings come from villagers returning south from the lake: a creature twice the size of a man, antlered and voracious. Larger than any they've seen on the plains, stalking its way to the main village. Some might have their own names for this hunger in a skin of shadow; others might remember that it was the first to claim a life, in their village's short history.

Whatever context one has for it, best to secure all pets and loved ones before it arrives. With weapons and food stores at the inn, the call goes out to gather — And to bring back any tools, because there's no telling what doors and windows can do to stop such a creature.

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

Vergil had moved out the day after he met Steph, only coming back when he was with Danny, or reading the guide book. Or eating, he needed to learn to cook but that was on his vast to do list. Vergil was annoyed with the situation but, it would take someone good at reading people to figure that out. His teal shirt and hair had blood stained in them, staining the whitish silver hair to an almost pinkish rust color.

When she huffs, Vergil's tired blue eyes shifted up. "Steph." He spoke her name to catch her attention. "The others are more crowded, if you are trying to look out." He offered, a hand motioning to the window as he moved to the side a little as a silent invite to join him, even if he looks a little like a horror show.

Steph is more interested in her own internal turmoil than Vergil's, but she does pause when she hears her name. Vergil's not so bad, as people go. A little pretentious, but very easy to mess with, which is fun.

She hesitates a moment more, then turns back to head for the window again.

"Hey Vergil. I'm not interested in the show. I just need some freaking air."

Vergil's termoil was something he could push past easily enough. Emotions were simply something that could be turned on and off as he needed to get whatever needed done done. Maybe it wasn't normal but it was how he got as far in life as he had.

When she responded he gave a simple nod before flipping the lock, and gave a simple motion to the window again. "Then breath away."

She shoves the window open, leaving her hands on the sill and looking out for a moment. Then she eyes Vergil, considering. Would he try to stop her?

Probably, if she didn't offer some kind of explanation.

"Ever gone out on a roof before?"

He didn't say anything when she shoved open the window. In face his face looked almost void of emotion. When she asked he gave a shrug. "Of course, who hasn't?" Granted he did it mostly as a way to sneak in and out of the warehouse before he sealed up any way out but through optical scan. "Are you inviting me?" He asked after a second, figuring she wanted to be alone.

She shrugs.

"I was gonna offer to teach you. But you're allowed, if you want." She doesn't feel like she really has the right to refuse company on the roof at a time like this.

She climbs up on the window sill before turning around to start finding handholds.

"Luckily, I am not so helpless." He tried to sound joking but it came out rather empty. He held the window a moment giving her the chance to move as she needed before following suit. Something in him hated he didn't have Yamato, that he wasn't fighting.

But he wasn't a fighter as much as a planner.

He was quiet as he followed. At least it would be a better vantage point.

She clambered up the roof, making her way to the chimney. Shingles can be difficult, and it's good to have something to grip just in case. Once in place she makes herself comfortable, looking out over the fight with a dead-eyed stare similar to Vergil's. A month ago she would have been out there fighting, even if she was only armed with her very large stick. Now the thought terrifies her, and it makes her uncomfortable in her own skin.

"Do you know any of them?"

Vergil couldn't just teleport or rely on the fact a fall wouldn't kill him, luckily all the work with Danny was really helping his upper body strength so he followed after her. While she came up to the chimney he stood close box once his boots were on steady-ish surface and crossed his arms looking down at the battle.

"The woman with the dark hair, her name is Rose." He spokes a touch of envy in his voice. He should be down there but he's already bloody, and with his upper arm wrapped up to. He didn't need to be down there. "Rumor has it, someone has already dead." He added, a touch of sympathy in his tone, but it didn't quite reach his eyes, those blue orbs stayed cold as could be.

It struck her as odd that she didn't feel anything at that bit of news.

"Occupational hazard," she noted, her voice devoid of emotion. She'd always known that being a vigilante could get her killed. She'd just hoped it would have been faster than it turned out to be. The people down there, at least they wouldn't suffer for long.

"Sorry. You must be worried."

Maybe it was better that way.

"Exactly, you can't have a war without casualties." Surely members of the order had died, you can't make an omelet without cracking a few eggs.

"Not really." He admitted, even though his eyes were tracking something, it wasn't Rose, it was the monster. "She has told me her life, she knows the dangers and she choose to fight. She will be victorious or she will die. If she dies, I will help dig the grave, but, I believe she will come out of this. Death of a comrade tends to fuel soldiers to fight harder." He spoke, more rambled as if she had asked. It was a problem he has, he talks to much when he speaks.

"No it doesn't," she growled, suddenly shaking with rage. She wasn't even angry at Vergil. It was a little frightening, the emotion surging out of her control.

"Death doesn't help anything. Death is fucked. The whole concept of being a soldier, it's all fucked."

He looked to her with those cold eyes. As if measuring her a moment. He could think of a few things to say but the one that felt right came out.

"What cause did you die for?"

He knew he was on deaths door, he knew Peggy had mentioned being wounded, it was a running theory, and with how Steph spoke, she spoke like she had lived it. He didn't belittle it by saying it was fascinating, even if it was.

She refused to look back at him, working instead on steadying her breathing and unclenching her fists.

"None," she admits quietly, voice dripping with bitter despair. "I died for nothing."

A noise of acknowledgement was given, part of him wanted to bitterly tell her at least she wasn't betrayed by the people she loved most, but he was starting to feel like a corrupted mp3 skipping.

"If you want... We clearly have time, I wont breath a word of it if you want to get it off your chest." He spoke not bothering to try and sound concerned, just the same tone. He wanted to know for his theory more than for her mental health. His eyes finally falling on Rose again.

No, she wasn't betrayed... she was the betrayer. She only wanted to help. She was just... trying to help. Finally she ducked her head, linking her hands over top to hide her face. It was too much emotion and she just wanted it to stop.

"I can't." She can't fall to pieces. She just can't.

"If you ever want to get rid of that weight, I live in house 48 now." He offered, not about to force it. Hell, he spent his first night sobbing into a pillow over the betrayal of his brother. He wasn't ever planning to share that, and he wasn't about to force someone else to speak when he could simply wait.

She might come around eventually. He just needed to remember his old mask, the one that served him well most of his life, the polite kind gentlemen, it was the closest to what he believed himself to truly be.

She shook her head, but stored that information away. If she was going to have an emotional breakdown she sure as hell didn't want any witnesses.

It took a few moments, but finally the shakes slowed and she got herself under control. She kept taking slow, deep breaths and lifted her head off her knees.

"I'm okay."

He wasn't worried about her knowing where he lived. Hell, he found it to be smarter made him sound nice and helpful. He looked away from the fight to her a moment before back to the street.

"If you say so, I wont be one to push otherwise. Granted, I don't think any of us are okay as much as getting by."

Steph watched the fight now without really watching it.

“Close enough.” Her voice had turned dull, but the shakes hadn’t left her entirely. The surge of emotion left her tired.

"Maybe, but we are different people. I see okay as getting by without a constant ache for something. Getting by being surviving for the sake of survival... lacking something we desperately need." He spoke with a wave of his hand. A least Rose wasn't dead yet, he really didn't want to see if he had the strength to dig that hole yet. Hell, he didn't even know her last name...

Did they even do tombstones here?

“Guess that feels like asking too much. I’ll settle for not being in pain.” Though sometimes her hands still hurt when she used them too much. It seemed there were limits to how much healing the ‘magic fountain water’ could do, and tiny joints and ligaments were it.

She felt bad, being bitter about her own suffering when people were fighting for their lives in front of her. But that thought led to how she ought to be fighting, and she just doesn’t have the courage anymore to let herself be responsible for other people’s lives. She cuts that train of thought off before it can overwhelm her again. Clearly it’s safer to just not think.

“What if I left? If I climbed down and just... left. Would it smell me, do you think?”

"Maybe." He replied easily with a shrug, Vergil still gets sharp chest pains from the brotherly stabbing, but that was mostly in his head, or so he tells himself. "Pain also has it's perks." He knew it sounded a little masochistic but, it felt important to say.

"I would advise against it. That creature and the smaller one are demons." He's back on the demon train. "They can smell far better than any human, I don't need to know the type to know it is a demon." He spoke as he pushed off from where he had taken to leaning the chimney, which probably got a bit to warm at the moment. Stepping closer to the edge and looking down. "Demons lack souls, but make up for that with higher senses and unbelievable strength... in short, if you go down there without proper motivation, you will die."

“I strongly disagree,” is Steph’s very flat retort. Maybe she would feel differently later in life.

She hummed in mild disappointment at his explanation. Of course, she had no reason to think they weren’t demons.

“And get somebody else killed trying to save me, probably. It was just a thought.”

"The fun of being human we can disagree." He replied trying hard to keep annoyance from his tone. Mostly at calling himself human. He was no longer special.

"Most likely, this lot seems very willing to do whatever it takes to keep all of us alive. Which is commendable." Idly he wondered if anyone had closed that window yet... or if they would catch hell for being outside if anyone noticed.

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