reyes (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
vidal) wrote in ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png)
sixthiterationlogs2018-12-02 12:40 pm
vidal) wrote in sixthiterationlogs2018-12-02 12:40 pm
things happen, that's all they ever do.
WHO: Reyes Vidal
WHERE: The bunker; the inn; the village generally
WHEN: Dec 2-5
OPEN TO: OTA, multiples for inn/village allowed
WARNINGS: Nothing really
WHERE: The bunker; the inn; the village generally
WHEN: Dec 2-5
OPEN TO: OTA, multiples for inn/village allowed
WARNINGS: Nothing really
Arrival in the Bunker (now locked to Kat)
The last he knew, he’d been trying to hitch a ride off Port Meridian, the crashed ark turned human city. He’d been standing in the elevator while it rose sluggishly towards the shuttle bays. Boring enough, yes, because the elevators always seemed to run far too agonisingly slowly despite their complexity, but it hadn’t been nothing out of the ordinary—
Until, the next he knows, the elevator has filled with water. The thought Is the ark malfunctioning manages to run through his head, but then he’s far too busy trying to find the door, failing, running his fingers along the crevices and edges of the container, realising it isn’t actually the lift anymore, and then, his worst nightmare: panicking.
Reyes’ nerves are steely even at the worst of times, but water is simply inexorable, unstoppable, unbargainable. Thankfully, the wait isn’t long before the seal hisses open and the water starts draining and someone (his liberator, he supposes) is helping him out, shaky and wobbly-legged and swearing in Spanish.
South Village Inn, a couple days later (OTA)
Predictably, Reyes gravitates towards the inn. It’s the closest thing to Tartarus, the bar he used to haunt — communal spaces where he can people-watch, get a sense for the group as a whole, possibly even eavesdrop.
But unfortunately, this place is nothing like the neon-soaked dive bar on his slum planet.
The room starts off empty when Reyes begins his inspection, but after a while he hears the creak of footsteps on ancient floorboards, and his head pops up from behind the bar, looking a little sheepish — and empty-handed, dusty. Poking around every single cabinet and shelf has led to absolutely nothing. “Is it true?” he asks with a gesture towards the empty bar, with the sound of a man who’s recently received a horrifying diagnosis from the doctor.
Around the village (OTA)
Reyes will be doing the usual for his first few days: roaming, information-gathering, people-watching, committing the layout of the area to memory. He’s also trying to suss out who lives where and if the fuss of a house is worth it, so can probably be found lingering and staring thoughtfully at the empty buildings, where a neighbour can catch him. He would also appreciate anyone willing to show him where to get/find food etc!
no subject
He’d tossed his backpack onto the stripped bed of his new room, running a finger thoughtfully along the dusty wall panels. But then the sound of a familiar name and recognisable location made him swivel on his heel and suddenly perk up more. Not Limbo City, not Panem, not Gaia, but— “Yes,” Reyes said quickly, eagerly, then paused and amended, “Well, technically. Earth does exist, and I know people who’ve visited New York, but in my world we’ve expanded far beyond it. We live on other planets and stations. Your world, it’s not just in the medieval past, then?”
Time could be surprisingly malleable; that was one thing he’d learnt here. “Is yours one with magic?”
no subject
Such as seeing the way his face lit up with recognition, and she smiled back at him. "There's a lot of New Yorkers here. You'll be in good company if you know anything about it." Hawke really wished she could get a glimpse of it. They kept telling her about it, but it was difficult to think of a city that large. "Oh no," she waved a hand dismissively, "not at all the past. We're from completely different spheres. We have dragons and ogres and elves and yes, a whole bunch of magic." And so many very complicated twists and turns about each of those parts of her world. But simplicity was never their way.
"My sister is a mage and my father was one too. I've been buried up to here with magic my whole life." The here of course being all the way to her lovely neck, and all of the bloody trouble that went along with it.
no subject
They were clearly both chatterboxes: Reyes talked fluidly, in an easy patter where it was only after the fact that you realised he liberally shared details of his world, but the details about himself were harder to come by.
“Anyway, I must have interrupted your schedule. I noticed you were sewing downstairs? I’m alright with stitches, if you’d like some help. I could think of far worse things than spending my day in such charming company.”
Plus it was a further opportunity to get to know each other, and carefully gauge this new connection. If he was going to be letting his guard down and sleeping here, it would do to understand Marian Hawke. And, honestly, to lean into this enjoyable playfulness, the gentle flirtation that ebbed and flowed beneath her voice. Something that he had picked up on, caught, and was volleying back, but cautiously. (Don’t piss where you eat, Reyes, was a chiding internal conscience that sounded irritatingly like Keema. Still. He’d ignored her advice before.)
no subject
She grins at the light flirting, thinking something much the same at the moment. Don't shit where you eat. But it wouldn't be the first time. In general though Hawke liked chattering and sometimes that led to flirting both harmless and not harmless. It would be difficult for her not to tease and flirt as a natural flow of conversation, so it was nice to both have that sort of natural knack.
"Mostly it's nights and mornings that I have a schedule. Patrols most nights. Scouting most mornings. Sometimes hunts. I train archery during the day, if people show up." Hawke flips her hair over her shoulder and winks at him. "I'm a very important person, you know. A fan favorite. I would love the charming company though." She had the remarkable ability to say nice things about herself but not really mean it in the least. She gestured for him to follow her back downstairs.
"My mother was the sewer. She could mend anything, and I should know, I brought her many things ripped." She made do whenever possible. Hawke mostly managed to talk about her without the normal stab of pain. So far so good. She went right back to her perch and nodded nearby, if he wanted to join her. "I am mostly just lazy about it."
no subject
While Hawke went back to the arm of the chair (perched quite a bit like her namesake), Reyes brought down the few things he had to mend. During his brief tenure at the inn, he'd raided the communal items and come across a fleece hat and pair of gloves -- both indispensable, considering the weather -- both a bit frayed and worse-for-wear, so he nabbed an extra needle and thread from her then flopped on the sofa, looking for all intents and purposes as if he'd always lived here. It was a skill, making himself look so at home anywhere.
"I'm unimportant beyond measure, so that means we balance each other out, I think." There was a touch of self-consciousness or self-aware humour in his expression; it was hard to tell the difference. (It was, perhaps, something of an inside joke. He'd been quietly important, once.) "I'd like to contribute to your hunting, though. I need to know how to provide for myself and not just be dead weight." Not least because he didn't want to starve if someone else withdrew their assistance or the communal meals dried up.
CONCLUDED