i'm done being a pawn

[moderndayassassin]

WHO: Desmond Miles
WHERE: Fountain; around the village,
WHEN: 12/3
OPEN TO: Anyone!
WARNINGS: Swearing for sure

---

Fountain arrival; ota

His hand was going in slow motion as it reached for the key to saving humanity and releasing Juno. Despite knowing it was right, despite saying goodbye to the remaining people in his life, he was afraid as he took a deep breath and prepared for the end. His eyes closed ... and then suddenly he was opening his eyes surrounded by water. Desmond flailed, shocked and horrified, this was not the way he expected Juno to take him, and was he supposed to just wait until he drowned? No, this can't be right. His feet kicked and he broke the water into air, gasping and scrambling for the side of ... what the hell was this? His eyes hurt from the water and he dragged himself out, immediately shocked by the cold of the air around him. It hadn't been cold before, why was it cold?

Desmond shakily tried to stand but collapsed hard onto his knees, his hands catching his weight. He should be dead. Maybe he was dead. Or maybe this was something else. He sat back on his haunches, breathing unsteadily, and dropping this strange pack from his back to toss it aside. Who put that on him? Juno's face hazily appeared in his mind's eye, and his confusion turned into rage. Maybe he failed. Maybe this was Minerva, furious that he disobeyed. Frustrated, he did something very stupid and dove right back into the water, going as far as he could. He had to finish this. He couldn't thwart fate. He reached around of any sign of what to do, but it was dark and he sprang out of the water again, colder and more exhausted than before.

"Juno!" He yelled, searching the sky. "Minerva! Which one of you bitches did this?" Desmond spit out water, shaking from cold or shock. "Juno! Goddamnit."

Around the village the next few days, OTA

Desmond was unnerved by everything so far and deeply suspicious. It was an elaborate lie, it had to be. A trick. He went to the inn just because there was no where else to stop freezing and not starve as far as he could tell. He sat by himself in the furthest corner away from others, making certain nothing was at his back but the wall in case of stabbing. Occasionally he ventured up to the records there, reading it but skeptical.

Later on he can be seen in the bunker trying to make sense of what was down there and if his hacking had any use. He was wandering around the village, admittedly being a little creepy as he glanced at the houses and cased the joints. Eventually he claimed House 46 and sat outside, staring off into the distance, scowling.

Comments

House 46 | Welcome Wagon Rolling In

[skyward_eyes]

So far he'd explored a good deal of things in the village. The books in the inn had been pretty interesting, his house had been comfortable once the lights had been turned on, and meeting people generally about their lives had been pretty nice too. Granted Nida still needed to find something a bit more substantial to do with himself, and thus he'd been heading toward the further edges of town. Word was there was a boathouse and 'fishmonger' (whatever that was) out in that direction. While boats weren't his primary area of experience he had decided he wanted to check them out for stability before getting fishing line and seeing if he couldn't catch something. He didn't want to go swimming again so soon.

Of course to head out there by the paths meant wandering past one of the last houses in the South Village, and thus being treated to a far off scowl. Strange how that brought back memories. Still, he let himself smile because training told him that a gentle smile was a lot easier to approach people with than anything else. Not too warm, not too welcoming, just... well, for lack of a better term, neighborly.

"Hi there. I heard the boathouse is further up this path. That true?"

No way he could know that Connor was almost as fresh off the boat, so to speak, as he was.

[moderndayassassin]

Desmond wasn't unfriendly most of the time. There was a point where he liked talking to people. He used to be a bartender for fuck's sake. He used to listen to people for a living and charm them into better tips. The way he was raised and his experience most recently were contrary to that though, and he just hadn't gotten used to it again yet. He also stopped trusting friendly people in general after Lucy. Look how that turned out.

He glanced in the direction of the guy who spoke and had to bite back a less than friendly response. It wasn't his fault that everything was shit. Probably. Desmond was still on the fence about whether all of this was real. It was seeing people like this that made him falter in that belief, because no way would he come up with random folks in his delusions. The guy looked like nothing from his other sets of memories. Fine. This was fine.

"I don't know. I've been here about a day." Desmond glanced down the path and frowned. A boathouse. Huh. "Where do the boats go? Can they get us off this damn island?"

[skyward_eyes]

Seriously, Nida had to wonder just what luck it was that kept him running into new people rather than more experienced residents of this place. Still, what information he had he would be happy to give. So he paused and tilted his head, trying to figure out what he remembered from what he'd read and seen.

"Well, I suppose they could be used for that, but my understanding is that they wouldn't be particularly sea worthy, not to get far. The boathouse is supposed to be on the river, and you can follow those rivers to the lake, of course. I figure they're mainly meant to be used for that. Haven't made use myself so I don't know how navigable the river is further out toward the ocean. Of course I haven't seen the boats myself yet, so I haven't had a chance to look them over."

Given time if the river wasn't navigable they might be able to make it so, but that couldn't happen in the winter, and from what Rinoa had said about dangers like fever snakes it would be a potentially dangerous prospect. Not that dangerous was something he'd avoid. It was just sort of what he did.

"You can come check them out with me if you want."

[moderndayassassin]

"If they could get us out, people would've probably already tried." That was if this place was real and not fake, which is probably was. Some percentage of him was sure of that. But why would he come up with some random boathouse? Was it to mentally move himself down the river and back to consciousness? Desmond could almost hear Subject 16 tell him to get his shit together. Whatever this was, he might as well roll with it. Unless he wanted to hole himself up in the house forever. Which wasn't a terrible option. Get your shit together, Des.

He narrowed his eyes slightly at the kid, who didn't really look like much of a threat, and his curiosity was in play. Seeing more of this place might give him clues, or at let him know where he was so he could move around the village easily. He was going to wear himself out on paranoid thoughts alone. "Okay." He knew that she sounded a little flat, and tried to remind himself how to people. "Thanks. I'm Desmond." He walked down to the pathway.

[skyward_eyes]

"And, of course, this requires us to run the assumption that we're on an island. Which, from everything I've read, we can't fully justify saying. But there is the lake, and the boats are useful on the river and for getting to the lake to fish."

Though abandoning paranoid thoughts might not be the best idea right now. Just because you're paranoid didn't mean people weren't out to get you. And from all Nida had read so far in the records in the inn, there was a good chance something or someone was out for them. Not that he could be sure. Not enough time to gather intel.

"Nida," he offered right back when a name was given. He smiled and then tilted his head up the road to let the guy know he was going to start moving again, so catch up. Getting a few paces ahead also had the added advantage of getting his back to Desmond. Most people, even if only unconsciously, felt a bit better when you were willing to turn your back on them. There was an implication of trust in that sort of action. And the idea of doing it right now made every trained reflex and instinct cringe, because you weren't supposed to do that.

Paranoia was not a neighborly thing. Or so Nida has to remind himself. It's at least true in polite society.

"It's a bit further up. Still on this side of the river from what I understand. Could be wrong. Haven't been there myself yet."

Fountain

[connatural]

Going back into the depths of the fountain for what you lost is something that Ashley is very familiar with. Seeking the man that had been with her when she started drowning, she'd needed someone else to help force her to leave the water rather than risking leaving him in the depths.

It is moments like these that Rinoa and she have talked about, though they had worried more about the bunkers. It hadn't occurred to Ashley that whatever powers that be that were behind this place would keep bringing people through the fountain, in this cold - that likely isn't even the worst it will get - and leave them to the elements like this.

What an introduction to this place. Hi. Welcome. Enjoy your pneumonia.

Of course, he's yelling at someone, and given Ashley doesn't see anyone around, she assumes he's still caught up in the moments before he arrived rather than where he is now. Perhaps.

She does approach with caution, though she's sliding out of the Slanket jacket she wears. It won't cover much of him, but can help to dry off his face and head to help try and get back his natural warmth.

"Uhmmm... Likelihood is, if either of them are behind this, and please tell me you don't mean the actually goddesses, but if they are behind this you probably won't see them," she says, holding out the zebra striped fabric. "And try drying off your head and neck. Will help with the cold."

Fountain

[moderndayassassin]

Desmond was pretty aware of his surroundings, so it wasn't easy to sneak up on him, but he didn't really notice her at first. He blamed this situation. He was wet and exhausted and until she spoke, for an embarrassingly long moment, he thought Lucy? It was the hair, for sure, and it was crazy that for awhile every blonde head he saw reminded him of her, but he wasn't the most stable of guys lately. His brain felt like it was on fire a little at the moment from overuse and anxiety.

He suspiciously looked at her, because why was she offering him a coat, but ... fine. Desmond took it from her cautiously and did what she recommended, drying off his head and neck while keeping his eyes on her. It'd been a few weeks. He would eventually be less high strung. "They're the women who people mistook for goddesses. They're not. They're pains in the ass." That seemed like a good enough summary. They were extremely powerful, far beyond anything he could imagine, and they weren't even really alive or physically near him. They were far beyond human ability, and he hated them with every fiber of his being at the moment.

Desmond handed her back the jacket, which seemed weird since he'd just wiped himself with it, but it also seemed weird to keep what was clearly hers. He darted a look up at the sky and then back to her. "I don't know, you'd be surprised how often they end up showing up when you don't expect it." Or want it. He didn't have any of his knives on him. He just realized now that he was in new clothing, so focused he'd been on screaming at nothing.

"Shit, what is going on? Who took my clothes off?" Listen, that was a pretty important question, alright? This was really freaking him out.

[connatural]

Despite most people's kumbaya approach to this place, Ashley knew that sooner or later the people that came to this place weren't going to be the safe and loving people that most of this place seems to attract. Except she knows the truth.

Though it doesn't seem to hold her back from trying to help. It's more worth the risk than it is to turn her back on those in need. If nothing else, she knows her mother would have her ass. So she tries, accepting that life has already turned on her, and all she can do is what she knows. Help, and kicking butts if needed.

"Huh. Known some like that myself. Though less mistaken for goddess and more putting themselves into the right places to make others think they are for the ego boost and power." Which given his reaction, might be the case here.

"NOt that I've heard of anyone here by that," she says, chuckling as she took the jacket, shrugging. "It started as a blanket, but supplies are iffy here. Whole storeroom is full of these damn walking blanket things. Who even knows why."

She's definitely not figured it out, but she's willing to use what she can as she needs it.

"As for the how and who and all? We have no clue. Some call them the observers. Best I can figure after they snag you from wherever you were, they do the whole medical science experiment, dress us in scrubs and drop us down the world's worst flume ride until we end up playing in the fountain," she says, shrugging. "Not a lot of answers to all of the questions. Not that we're not trying."

She offers an apologetic look. "Sorry to not have much more," she says. "I'm Ashley, by the way. Kind of make circuits around the fountain when I'm out. Just in case."

[moderndayassassin]

Desmond was too used to everyone being a threat lately. There was a time, crazily enough, where he attempted to have a normal life. A bartender might not be glamorous, but he had a job and his own place and it wasn't so bad. He got a few years of that before it all went to shit. Maybe eventually that part of him would kick in again, when he was anxious about this insane situation, but some traumas never went away entirely. The last he can do is try not to be as much a dick to people (maybe hallucinations?) in the meantime.

"The power for sure. We are little rats to them. Or objects to push around." He kept hearing Minerva talk about how he couldn't possibly understand her high minded explanation of why burning most of the world was the good option. They thought they were so above humans. "Their race went extinct even being all powerful and shit, you'd think they would have a little humility." Not so much. Just how it was.

Desmond listens to her explanation carefully, still not sure if this is real. It actually sounded like the kind of thing his unhinged mind would've come up with in the Animus. Another kidnapping and experimentation. Or the bitches were behind it again. Either way. He accepted Ashley was telling him the truth, or what she thought was the truth. He wasn't so great at knowing when people were lying to him though.

"This isn't my first kidnapping," he says wearily. "Or my first time as a science experiment." So more of the same. He rubs at his eyes, still freezing and coming down off of his adrenaline rush. "I'm Desmond. So wait people come in here enough you make circuits? How many people are here?" He was used to being the only subject.

Fountain;

[winswars]

Over the past few days, Connor had made it part of his routine to check the fountain, intent on making sure that if anyone else showed up injured that they were taken care of promptly and properly. It was easy enough to ensure that he passed by it on his way too and from places, or to spend time wandering around the woods nearby, looking for materials to make arrows.

What he absolutely was not expecting - not at all, actually - was to hear a man yelling out a name he recognized, followed by quite a lot of cursing. That much he understood, being angry at the entire experience that was arriving in this place - being taken from your home and then half drowning multiple times, only be spit out into a freezing fountain in thin scrubs that did nothing to add warmth.

Carefully placing down the bundle of sticks he had gathered that were straight enough to widdle arrows from, he slowly exiting the line of trees, moving towards the fountain from the right, footsteps slow and even - and uncharacteristically loud, attempting to announce his arrival and not further spook this poor person who was already likely frightened.

Only to realize that they were yelling at the sky.

Holding up both of his hands, he spoke out quietly: "Yelling at the sky will not help."

Fountain;

[moderndayassassin]

If Desmond had something he could actually throw at the sky he probably would. His temper was easily triggered these days, specifically whenever he was reminded of his helplessness. Saving the world was manipulated all along, but it was still his choice, his one and only choice. But apparently not. It was all a game. He ran hands through his wet hair, having no idea what to do next. Where was he? What was the next step? Des was used to someone else running the rodeo, leading him along, and now he was struck with how pathetic that was.

Fuck.

He glared at the pack and started sorting through it, when he heard a voice behind him. A very familiar voice, one he'd heard for a long time now, bleeding into his head and his life. "Yeah, thanks, Connor, I hadn't thought of that." The sarcasm came easily, because he figured it was a further hallucination, more evidence he'd lost his damn mind. The weird part was that he was used to hearing Connor's voice, but it sounded very real and loud and nearby this time. Frowning, he lifted his head and turned toward him.

"Shit!" Desmond backed up several steps and almost tipped into the fountain again in his shock. His giant ancestor wasn't some weird vision or illusion, he looked very real. He was not going to hyperventilate. "This isn't real, this isn't real." He murmured to himself. It was the only thing that made sense, because the reality made no sense. Was he back in the Animus for good?

[winswars]

A very distinct feeling of absolute confusion fell over him as he heard the other man speak so easily, throwing the words over his shoulder in that sarcastic tone as if he was entirely used to hearing such things from him. Stranger still, he had called him by name - had called him Connor, when he was almost certain they had never met before.

He had been about to speak, the curiosity written plainly on his features when the other finally turned to look at him.

And yelled out another obscenity before stumbling back several feet and even almost tipping back into the fountain. What in the world was going on?

Hands still held up in front of him, he moved forward, much slower now than before, hoping to not spook this man any further.

"Calm down. I know this must seem strange, arriving here as you have. It is unfortunate, but it is real." And then, lowering his hands, he spoke again, "You spoke as if you knew me, but I am not familiar with your face."

[moderndayassassin]

"No, no, hey, no." The moving forward did spook him, and instead of falling into the fountain, Desmond put his foot back on the wall and flipped to the right with the kind of speed and grace that would impress anyone who wasn't also an assassin. He put a hand on his wrist where his damn blade should be, but nothing was there. Not that it would do anything against a hallucination. This was insane. There was Connor, larger than life, and not in a mirror or on a screen. He only recently lived through his particular ancestor's life, so it was fresh and tragic in his head.

"This is surreal," he mumbled, his momentary panic turned into cautious curiosity. Desmond stepped forward carefully, watching Connor closely. He was much too smart to actually touch the man; if he wasn't real his hand would go right through, if he was real, Connor would smack his hand off for trying. He experienced that enough times to know better. He was coming off as wary as a stray dog at the moment, every step forward uncertain.

Desmond eyed him and offered his hand, giving Connor the choice to take it, but honestly not even sure if he wanted him to be solid or not. One meant he was definitely crazy now, the other meant this was so much more confusing than he expected. "I'm Desmond." He had no idea what to say after that, so he considered it, and then well fuck. "I'm, uh, your descendent." Which he hoped explained a little bit about why he was so freaked out.

House 46 — welp

[retributes]

Leaving House 51 had probably been a mistake. No, it would be. With Connor out and about, that left her to wander about the interior idly and make a mental checklist of what they had and what they would need. Not they—she. Just her. The house came with two bedrooms but she would never expect Connor to stay the entire time. He did seem adamant on taking care of her and that no doubt would extend into the time it took for her stitched injury to fully heal. Lucy did appreciate it, every moment, still finding herself overcome with bouts of weakness when it was least expected.

Deciding that it was as good a time as any to step out for some air and stretch her legs as she was getting restless with laying down for too long, Lucy was slowly making her way back to House 51, following along the path past the other houses. She knew that some were empty while the others were occupied. There was no double take, there was no second glance, in passing by House 46, barely catching sight of the man seated outside in her peripheral. Someone who should've been so familiar to her. His face had been the last thing she'd looked into that seeing it there should have stopped her in her tracks.

That was the thing—Lucy, in her teal scrubs and her hair dressed down in a braid, would never have imagined that Desmond of all people would also be there. To her, this place was some kind of a Hell; after all, she was dead, wasn't she?

Her pace was slow as she continued on, body leaning somewhat to the right, still favoring that one side, and she wasn't looking forward to crossing the river again.

[moderndayassassin]

Desmond was deciding whether or not he should keep prowling around or simply go back inside, lock and put furniture in front of the door, and stay there until the next shoe dropped. He was certain this was a trick, or it was all within his own head, or possibly a kind of strange hell that wasn't actually awful just weird. That is, until he spotted Lucy, and he was positive this was a mix of mental illness and hell. Desmond got so used to being haunted by visions of things that weren't there from the Bleeding Effect. It only seemed natural that Lucy would be a hallucination his mind would come up with, or a mocking by one of the goddesses to torture him.

He watched her go by and so many emotions ran through him that he couldn't pinpoint one of them. He went through a lot in his short life, but nothing left a cut on him that went deeper than Lucy Stillman. His own death didn't hurt him as much as hers. Both were, in the end, his decision. He was manipulated and twisted into an impossible position, but it was still his choice. This specific kind of torture felt like Minerva's bitterness over him picking Juno instead. That is, until he noticed she was limping.

He tilted his head curiously. Much like Connor, she seemed very real. And he was fairly certain this was not how he'd envision her. Something in his chest felt heavy and twisted, and Desmond moved away from the house to follow her. He could stalk her, but she was too good for that, and he felt like there was so much burning inside of him right then that he might burst into fire or he had to talk to her. "Lucy." He pushed the word out of his pained throat. He already mistook one blonde woman for her since coming here. He couldn't imagine how, since he knew every line of her face. Wishful thinking? No. No that.

"Luce." Desmond stopped when he was still a few feet away from her, so he wouldn't crowd in on her. If he was right, he didn't know what came next. She was injured. He feared what that meant.

[retributes]

His steps were heard before anything else, more defined than the breeze passing overhead through the trees. She assumed it wasn’t someone following her but someone else walking the same path, that was until she heard her name, heard the way emotion choked it. And then it came again, the shortened version from someone who was familiar with her, could perhaps have been close with. Friends even. Lucy stopped, staring off a head at the road and not really seeing it. Luce. No one else here had yet to say her name in such a way.

This isn’t real. This is just some fucked up part of my imagination, remnants of trauma. Was that what she’d been hoping?

Her heart was pounding in her chest, throat tight. Part of her wanted to wait and see if they would speak her name for a third time.

Keep walking, she told herself. Don’t turn around. There’s no one else there.

Lucy stole a glance back over her shoulder, caught the glimpse of his figure from the corner of her eye. Slowly, ever so slowly, she began to turn to fully face him; she was staring at a ghost, he wasn’t real. Oh god. Her head shook. She closed her eyes immediately and reached up to dig her fingers in at the inside corners.

“This isn’t...” Needing to try that again, this time there was emotion threatening to choke her. “You’re not really here. This shouldn’t even be happening.” His name nearly slipped out, it took everything in her power to bite it back, finally looking across at him again.

[moderndayassassin]

Desmond was for real starting at a ghost. The ghost of someone who meant a lot of different things to him. If he was a better guy, maybe he would've stayed away from her here. When she spoke those words, all he could do was push out a sudden inappropriate laugh, rubbing a hand over his face. "You stole my lines." It was what he was thinking exactly. She was a vision. He was still stuck in the Animus. She was dead. But Connor was long dead too. He let his eyes move over her face, struck by the vivid and horrific memory of staring into her eyes as he was forced step by step closer to her. He made the choice, in that last second, but he was dragged there first.

"I'm pretty sure I'm hallucinating. I think this whole place is one. But if we're both hallucinating, one of us isn't real, or we're both real." It was a testament to how fucked up their life was that reality was so easily warped. If she was real, he let himself think, the question was from when. If she was injured, there was only one option. He wasn't stupid. He could play stupid and maybe he should. She was one hell of a liar but maybe if this was all real, the lies could stop. Dream on, Desmond.

He put out a hand toward her, palm up. He didn't come any closer, but it was a way for them to see if the other one was tangible. If she tried and went right through him, or he went through her, well, they'd know then, wouldn't they? He really and truly did not know yet which one he wanted it to be. "Lucy," he said again, quietly this time.

Wandering

[ombranera]

"You know-" Helpful advice wasn't something Zevran handed out so often or so easily but this was ticking a few boxes in the back of his mind, settling into a creeping suspicion he couldn't quite shake that this man had many of the same instincts that he did. That this man had the same itching paranoia under his skin, the wariness in his bones. "Generally if you are attempting to seek for points of entry or perhaps where you might crack a window for a burgle- you'd have some visible excuse for wandering about and looking so intently."

Offered while he, well, wandered about, looked intently, and sketched. A map of the village for his own use in a notebook taken from the store room. Not at all a conspicuous or strange thing to be doing, no Ser. "Just an observation."

[moderndayassassin]

Desmond glanced over at the guy and bit back his own surly instinctive unfriendly response. It's not other people's fault everything sucks, Desmond. Since this was pretty definitely a huge hallucination, Desmond wasn't sure where this guy really fit in with the types of people he'd come up with. He really was not this creative. It was the biggest reason he doubted that he was crazy, and sometimes leaned on 'this is hell' instead.

After a beat, he smirked at the guy, loosening up a little. "You probably shouldn't give trade secrets away like that. Then there will be a whole lot of us innocently creating personal maps." It was a good suggestion though, and one he noted to himself for later. He wasn't trying to be a creep, but he also figured everyone here was made up so. Eh.

"I'm not a thief, I like having endless amounts of exit strategies." Or stealth spots. Jumping into someone's home was a very good option for that. He'd done it more than a few times. Running and hiding was a huge portion of how he - and his ancestors - survived when things got rough. He did have the movement of an Assassin, graceful and quiet, but vey little ability for deception and lying. "Too much is out in the open here or badly secured."

[ombranera]

"Oh no. This is the greatest betrayal of my Guild I have ever committed. How shall I go on? Allow me to throw myself upon my sword- oh wait." Zevran rolled his eyes with a sly half smile, flipping his notebook closed and tucking it away fr the moment. No crow he, this man. And to his word, no thief either. There was a difference in how one held themselves; and there was a tension here that didn't come from mere sneak thievery.

"No, you are an Assassin or Spy of some sort, yes?" No Orlesian in his tone, so not a bard. But he was coming to learn that there were many strange people in this village and many strange worlds yet to explore. "The windows for the upper floors have not yet frozen shut. Most swing outward upon odd hinges but an odd number of them pull directly up."

If there was anything Zevran could understand well? It as the need for a quick retreat. "Worst comes to worst you could head for the forest, plenty of cover there and most are reluctant to travel in the dark."

[moderndayassassin]

"That's ... an interesting assumption to make." The Assassins and Templars were secret organizations in his world and always had been. This may not be the type of guy he thought it was easy to invent, although it made him think a little bit about that elf guy in those super long movies, but the term Assassin could easily be planted in his subconscious. Or Connor told him. Very unlikely. Connor was sworn to secrecy just like everyone else. Right? Right.

Desmond wasn't refuting the question though, which he should have done immediately. It might as well be him painting a giant neon Yes I am an Assassin sign on himself. If this did turn out to be another Templar trick, he was going to be really pissed. He glanced up at the windows while Zevran spoke, narrowing his eyes slightly. "People need to lock their windows tight. Who knows what kind of map makers might be wandering around outside." It's far from a threat. For all his training and his experience now, Desmond was not a killer at heart. Desperation and darkness could make a killer out of anyone.

"This place feels unsafe to me. There's something tense about it. Like the other shoe is about to drop." Dying wasn't enough. Now his paranoid was getting a real chance to shine. "I'm new though. Maybe there are a hundred shoes already dropping and I'm late to the party."

Around the Village

[mediumhoodie]

"New?"

Kat was heading back to her house from the inn when she had spotted Desmond wandering around the village. She didn't know everyone who was currently trapped in the village but the look on his features suggested that he might be taking a better look around.

"Do you need help finding anything?" She was wearing a dark green dress that looked like a form sitting long sweater and a pair of tight black stockings with her boots. Her hair was short and pushed behind one ear while a blue star marked the center of her forehead.

[moderndayassassin]

See this was the problem with thinking you were crazy. Desmond was still fairly certain about that, but he can't imagine why his mind would come up with random faces he'd never seen before. Maybe they were from crowds or the bar he worked at, and his subconscious was filling it. Or maybe he was crazy for thinking he was crazy. It was all very exhausting. He glanced over at her, trying to remember how to function like a person. He was going to need to get comfortable with that if this was his new reality.

"I'm new, yeah. I don't know. I guess food?" That seemed like a good thing to know about. He wasn't sure if the suggestion was to go scrounge around, which he could do, but not as well as Connor. "I'm, um. Desmond." If she was a hallucination she probably already knew that. Or not. His head hurt.

[mediumhoodie]

"The inn." Kat pointed at the large inn-like building that was towering to their left. "Kate organizes meals there at mid day, for everyone in the village, and they're working on storing food for the village for the winter." It was one of the systems here that Kat liked. It was nice to see everyone banding together to stay alive.

"I'm Kat. It's nice to meet you Desmond." She glanced behind her. "Considering the situation."

[moderndayassassin]

Giant building nearby. Sure. Of course it was. Desmond glanced at it. Inn felt a little old timey of a word, or small town-sh, which made since as this reminded him more of an old school village than anything else. Definitely not modern. He hadn't seen any computers outside of what was on his wrist. No TVs or phones, and the thing on the wrist was unique. He was going to look closely at it later and see if there was anything to glean. "Kate who? She own this place?"

He stared at her for a long moment and then hesitantly offered a hand. She could still be a hallucination. It was easier to know if he had contact. Plus that's what people did, right? "Yeah. Same." She seemed practiced as this, though, or at least someone who didn't have trouble looking at new strangers. "How many people are there here?"