(no subject)

[demonic_divinity]

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

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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.