ᴛɪᴍᴏᴛʜʏ ᴅʀᴀᴋᴇ ǝuʎɐʍ (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
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sixthiterationlogs2018-08-27 08:43 pm
ployboy) wrote in sixthiterationlogs2018-08-27 08:43 pm
Entry tags:
young, dumb, & broke
WHO: Tim Drake and (---)
WHERE: Fountain Park, nowhere and everywhere
WHEN: August 28, and surrounding days
OPEN TO: All
WARNINGS: N/A but will warn in threads
WHERE: Fountain Park, nowhere and everywhere
WHEN: August 28, and surrounding days
OPEN TO: All
WARNINGS: N/A but will warn in threads
Arrival (South Village) : Fountain
[He coughs, and he wakes up.
He wakes up because, when he coughs, there's water rushing down his throat and up his nose and into his lungs. It's not the most pleasant way to wake up after an exhausting night's work. Thankfully (for some given value), it isn't the least pleasant way to wake up, either. Not in Tim's mind. So his throat burns and his eyes have trouble adjusting to the blur of being underwater (fresh water), and it's taking a hell of a lot of control to not give in to the urge to let the coughing fit take over and instead suppress it (Tim's pretty sure he's either beet red or splotching blue at this point). He listens to training, though, and refuses to drown before he at knows what the hell's happened; he's climbing over the lip of the pool (no, fountain) in no time at all, just kind of hanging there for a moment as his eyes adjust again to the surface.
No... immediate threat, that he can process. And still, he's got goosebumps of sorts. The backpack (waterproof-- weird) is ditched and Tim sucks in a breath before submerging himself in the water again. He dives purposefully to the bottom of the fountain-- it's all solid underneath. He pushes, what bit he can. And gives up for today because he's wearing clothes he hadn't been wearing before and that's weird and the next time Tim surfaces, brows pinched in frustration and tiredness (he couldn't even get one full night's sleep)] Damn it... [he sees a-- person. You. Close by. He swings out of the fountain and prays that backpack he's slung onto his shoulders has a towel but first:] You don't look surprised to see me climb out of that thing. [Game: start.]
Arrival (South Village) : Police Station
[He's fresh from the fountain, but his navy blue shirt is hanging from where he'd tied it on a strap of his pack (for easier drying) and he's left in the tank top. It's uncomfortably moist and clings to his skin and Tim wants nothing more than to find a dryer, for heaven's sake-- but that seems like less and less of an attainable fantasy with every block of this town he passes. He's a tourist.
He takes in the sights.
And then he maps out his first destination: coming up this street is what looks undeniably like a police precinct. He makes a beeline for it. There should be records, files, computers, something familiar--
and then he is, not for the first time, so horribly let down.] People keep animals here? [Speaking to himself: check. Stating the fucking obvious: check. Tim steps... almost gingerly through the place anyway, because something has to have been salvaged, right? --god, it's obvious the boy very much wasn't raised on a farm.]
Settling In (South Village) : Inn & Housing & Boathouse
[He'll be around, trying to keep his head relatively low and (amazingly) keeping the exploration to a minimum until he understands this whole... bullshit a little bit better. But Tim isn't keeping still, isn't holing himself up, not really. He knows there's hubbub of something odd, something very uncommon going around. Three cheers for gossip and the habit to eavesdrop. He spends the next few days scouring houses that seem unoccupied, venturing into the Inn during its busier hours just to kind of... hang, and maybe ask questions when someone looks like they definitely know what they're doing.
Occasionally he makes trips to the boathouse, because he doesn't sleep (you can't prove that he does, anyway).
Here is the wildcard option.]
Settling In (A few days after Arrival)
Thanks to the encroaching heat, the windows on the first floor remain open in order to create a cross flow. It isn't a perfect solution against the humidity but it helps Kat sleep and she enjoys listening to the soft sounds of the night. It isn't like the city, which took some time to get used too, but it was nice.
It's the silence that makes her realize that someone has walked past the house, heading towards the outskirts of the village. Birds, bugs and nocturnal animals grow silent as Tim passes through and then resume their usual sounds.
It's dangerous to go walking around at night but Kat's curious and unable to go back to sleep.
She catches up to Tim closer to the boat house and makes a point not to quiet her approach.] Hey, what are you doing out so late? [She's not sure if there even are boats in the boat house.]
no subject
Last thing he wants is a rolled ankle.
Well-- no. Last thing he wants is to be idle, hence his willingness to risk a rolled ankle.
He perks up and tunes in to the sounds of someone approaching, not overly wired or spooked. He turns to the lady, and as a response he nods to the boat house just ahead.] I don't think I've heard anything about a curfew. [Which may sound snarky, and Tim doesn't mean to be snarky, to he continues in a much more mild voice.] So I decided why not check out what this place looks like after-hours, you know?
no subject
[It'll take more than a snarky sounding reply for Kat to be deterred. She's used to Vergil's gruff and Dante's advances and has ignored it all. There is very little that fazes her and they generally come down to life or death situations.]
Would you like some company?
[It isn't her plan, hadn't been her plan, but she's awake now and by giving Tim her candle, there is very little she can do. This world isn't like the city where there is enough light pollution to read by and she won't risk straining her eyes just because she can't sleep.]