sixthiterationlogs | here he comes [ squall and 3 open threads ]

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here he comes [ squall and 3 open threads ]

WHO: Squall Leonhart
WHERE: South Village (fountain, then inn, then house 16)
WHEN: Oct. 31st (morning, late morning, early afternoon)
OPEN TO: Any!
WARNINGS: None now!

Fountain Foundation / Morning

Water. Again.

At first, Squall could only register that annoyance. He was taken out of his familiar settings again and tossed into water again. If it wasn’t one thing, it was another. His actions were mechanical at first, and he refused to think about the consequences of this new setting. He had to swim towards the light. He had to pull himself out of the wet fountain to the cold fall air. He had to search in the backpack for a coat.

But once his immediate survival was secure, he looked around himself with a little more interior trepidation. It didn’t look like a dangerous landscape, but that was about the only good mark. He didn’t have his gunblade or his clothes…or Griever.

It was when he noticed the loss of his necklace that he really paid attention to his magenta clothes. They were far from his normal blacks and greys, and he didn’t like them at all. Nor did he have a good feeling about the device around his wrist that he couldn’t remove.

But with typical determination, he leaned back on his heels, crouched, and stared at the buildings and the cornfield.

Well, Leonheart. What’s it going to be this time? he thought to himself, trying to keep his thoughts away from his friends and family. He had to understand his surroundings. Then he could worry about where they were…and whether he would see them again.

When he noticed someone nearing the fountain, he rose to his feet and made eye contact—he should probably say something, but verbalizing wasn’t his strong suit, even now.

INNformation / Late Morning

An important job for both SeeD and…whatever he was in Traverse Town and Hollow Bastian…was information gathering. A mercenary and a member of a restoration committee could not succeed without having as many details as possible.

Thankfully, the first step for information was not very many steps. He went into the hotel—inn—and looked through the Public Records. Things that had happened, people and what they could do…

It was a lot of information to take in. It reminded him of the SeeD classroom, with lesson after lesson after lesson. Still, it would take him more than one reading to remember this without knowing more context.

He leaned back against the wall and rubbed his forehead. No sign of his comrades. No sign of anyone he had even heard of. Hyne, this is starting all over again.

House Hunting / Early Afternoon

Squall knew he could stay at the Inn, but he didn’t entertain that thought very long. He was prepared to make relationships and form those teams to do good with this village, but it was something completely different to want to live right next door to someone he didn’t know.

A part of him was also drawn to something a little…larger. Nothing would be as large and well designed as Garden, and he didn’t really mind not being in charge of that, but the house in Traverse Town wasn’t big enough. Merlin’s house was a much better base, roomier, and he wanted to find something that could be like that again. He wanted not just a place to sleep, but a place his team could meet.

Not that he had a team, but sooner or later, he would have one. It would be difficult and depressing at first, because he could never replace his friends, but this wasn’t about replacing them. It certainly wasn’t about forgetting them.

He didn’t wander far to choose a house that seemed abandoned, judging from all the dust. Keeping the door open, he started to sort through all the rooms to check for any problems.

Threaded | Flat

Ty has done a lot of work on getting their house ready, but Ashley isn't willing to let him be the only one making sure they're ready and set for the upcoming winter that some warn her can be bad.

So with the windows open, and still in her modified scrub top cut into more of a crop top and a pair of leggings she scrounged from the Inn, she sets to work with a few things they've discussed.

Clearing a space on the side of the house for a garden come spring, working on ideas for a pen in the backyard so they can bring in those cute ass purple llamas, and she's thinking maybe a kirin because it's a unicorn, dammit! But for now it's working the land, and working on cutting down some of the logs they've gathered for fire wood, and doing her best to try and get things finished around the house so they have a home.

It's in the process of working all of that she notices someone else heading into the house across the lane. A woman raised to be both wary of the unknown as well as accepting of those that are different.

Brushing stray hairs back from her brow, Ashley heads across the street and up onto the porch, tapping on the door frame.

"Knock knock," she says in time with her own knocking. "Hi. Neighbor visiting," she calls, making a face. "Or however social things happen between people in the suburbs. I have no clue."

7 isn't house-hunting so much as she is momentarily squatting while she wraps her head around this place. Still, it's important to know thy neighbor, and when she sees someone moving into a house near to the one she's briefly inhabiting, she'll sneak out and steal closer for a better look.

Do you ever get that feeling, Squall, that you're being watched?

Because this time you are.

Crouched by a window, peering in, learning to abate her breath to diminish her presence in this moment, 7 watches.

[ frank is sat in front of the fire transcribing something. there's a mug of coffee in front of him that's long gone cold and a croc-dog curled up on his lap. it's curious because there's no coffee in the inn or any writing supplies and yet here he is. hearing sharpened by the silent village he hails from, frank hears someone crack the tome of history that's finally been pieced together. it feels good to be a part of something going forward this way, to record events so that new people will know and that even people who have been here as long as he has won't give up. it's given him something to work towards, at least, which is something he didn't have for a while there.

he doesn't intend to speak up, but when squall changes to the census book he clenches his teeth, craning his neck to watch the man over and behind the sofa from his spot on the floor by the hearth. he doesn't look like much this way: long hair and beard obscuring the bruising on his face and an oversized (bright teal) athletic hoodie concealing just how big he is. he knows he's down in that book though, at least a dozen times over. he thinks about erasing his name every time someone looks at it, the itch of self-consciousness starting to creep up the back of his skull. ]

Weird that someone drew a hotdog on every page of that thing, huh? [ he's not sweating shut up. ]

Hawke's pretty sure she's reached a point where the fountain was her second home. At first she kept coming back just in case someone she knew came through, and that did end up happening once. Eventually it seemed like the nice thing to do for someone who crawled out wondering what the fuck was going on. She's about ready to go on a hunting mission so her arrows are mostly done, but she likes cutting them out by the fountain. It's peaceful there, most of the time.

She long ago dropped the yellow clothing, although she did enjoy wearing a little color for a few days. Now she's back to her blacks and grays, dull but familiar. Occasionally a spot of red in there. She'd wear it when hunting in case of the blood stains. Anyway, she was on her way there and spotted someone coming out from a distance. Another newbie! How fun! She was only there a few weeks herself, so she was cheery as she walked up to him, a flash of a smile in greeting. "Hello! Welcome to a land that still doesn't have a name as far as I know!"

Kamala is here to cook as usual. That doesn't mean she can't spare a minute for someone who is very clearly new here. It certainly doesn't escape her notice that he seems a little sad. Unfortunately her kind intentions translate to a lot of staring. Kamala quickly has to catch herself.

"Sorry for staring. You just seem super overwhelmed!" She offers a friendly smile. "I'm Kamala. Is there something I can help you with?"

Threaded | Flat