sixthiterationlogs | (OTA) A not so warm welcome

WHO: Seifer Almasy
WHERE: South Village Park fountain; Around town
WHEN: December 7th - 8thish
OPEN TO: Anyone
WARNINGS: Swearing. Usually lots of swearing.

Fountain Arrival:

One good thing about growing up near the ocean your entire life was that it's very uncommon to not know how to swim. The downside being the water was never this cold. It felt like a dream, no, worse, it felt like clawing through Time Compression all over again as he breached the darkness into blinding daylight with gasping breaths. The shock of icy air was in many ways worse than the water, chilling him straight to the core as he flopped gracelessly in a sopping pile on the ground, coughing water out of his lungs. Hyne, what a terrible way to wake up.

After spending a few moments laying on the ground spluttering water out of his lungs and wondering what his life had come to Seifer finally pushed himself up, shivering. Miserable. It was cold, he didn't know where he was, and he had no idea who he'd pissed off this time. Whoever it was he must have really done it to find himself tossed, presumably drunk, into a fountain in the middle of winter. Wait.

"...When the hell did it turn winter?" He glanced down at himself then, finally realizing that his clothing didn't feel right. "And why the hell am I dressed like this?" He looked like a mental patient. Did he have a psychotic break? If so, who the hell throws mental patients in fountains? Even giant assholes like Seifer. Not that he could blame them, but still! That's just screwed up. With no one immediately around to hear him talking to himself, he presumed, Seifer decided to shuffle off toward the nearest building he could find. Maybe someone would take mercy on him and give him a towel before he froze to death.

Out and about the town:

This place had a serious rodent problem. He'd never been anywhere with mice just running around out in the open like it was nothing. They could really use some of Timber's cats here, or a truckload of traps. So far in his wanderings Seifer had managed to dodge stepping on any of the bold little creatures though it was quickly becoming increasingly hazardous to explore. Everywhere he went was a minefield of mice darting around, chewing on things, skittering right at him as though he weren't large enough to step on them and make them into tiny mice pancakes. Although, something was weird, anywhere the mice went was covered in thick ice. Which didn't make much sense to him at all, were they that hungry they were trying to eat ice? Or was he missing something?

Wait, no, crazy, of course. Just one big hallucination that was the obvious answer to all of this. He never expected he'd go this crazy, and yet the evidence couldn't be denied. One such piece of evidence was a small evergreen shrub of some kind he'd just witnessed a mouse go skittering out from beneath that was now a very intricate ice sculpture. Idly he meandered over to tug at one of the frozen over branches in wonder. "Guess I have a vivid imagination." He mumbled to himself, now more certain than ever that he was just lost in his own delusion. Probably meandering down the street somewhere screaming at himself. Or locked up in an institution.

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

Trying to eliminate an entire population of dangerous mice? Yeah, not that easy. They'll need a lot of poison and some very clever traps. Couldn't put the work on predators, they'd just be frozen. The poison might also be frozen. How do the mice eat? Something to think about if this continues to be a problem.

"A... cornfield. Out of nowhere. What?" That didn't make any sense at all. Why would that happen? "Was there a reason for the corn field?"

Alright. Either he's definitely absolutely nuts, this is some kind of science fiction simulation, or he's dreaming. Maybe all of the above.

"It was for a harvest festival, of sorts. Whether or not that's a good reason for there to have been one is another question, but it wasn't entirely without some sort of justification. Although I have to admit that the fact that whoever's responsible for this can create a cornfield entirely out of nowhere raises certain questions as to the nature of where we happen to be."

Ones that he very much has his own thoughts on, although he's just as willing to let Seifer come to his own, should he choose to not directly ask about that. But either way it's not the sort of thing that bodes particularly well, even if they're supposed to have exited whatever simulation they might have been in previously. (Personally, he has his doubts, but it's hard to tell for certain if they are or not.)

The idea of a harvest festival isn't that foreign to Seifer, not that he's ever been involved in one. Holidays exist, they're just not that important in his world. Everyone likes a day off of work though. "I still don't see why there'd be a corn field outta nowhere," What was the point of the field. Did it do something? He didn't get it. "How the hell d'you put a whole growing field somewhere overnight where there wasn't one before anyway?"

It didn't make any sense. He knew of magic, plenty of magic in fact, and yet nothing like that. That's reality warping Sorceress level stuff, and even then utterly illogical. Now if someone were to mention simulations to him he might find that easier to digest. His world's technology wasn't up to snuff for something like that but it didn't mean it was impossible. Only improbable.

There's a brief shrug and a headshake from Picard at the questions. While he knows that they had been there, the reasoning behind why is just as much a mystery to him as it is to Seifer. It's true enough that there isn't really anything present in the village that needs too much work, when it comes to bringing in a harvest, but that alone isn't necessarily something that he'd imagine would require the addition of a whole cornfield. Especially when the corn itself hadn't been harvested at any point. Assuming, of course, there'd been any - he hadn't looked particularly closely and doesn't remember one way or the other.

"I'm afraid I don't have any answers. Not besides the fact that Observers must have decided to put it there, regardless of what their reason for doing so was."

And there's no real way to ask, either. Not when no one is even able to tell if the Observers are physically present somewhere. They aren't likely to be in the village, that much he's fairly certain of. But past that... it's honestly anyone's guess, and even several years of searching hasn't turned up anything particularly significant.

The whole thing was just baffling. Honestly the whole situation was baffling, and this new information wasn't helping. Nor was it helping to convince him that he wasn't, in fact, currently suffering some kind of psychotic episode. It was suddenly feeling more likely in light of the situation. Mice that froze everything they touched, magically appearing corn fields.

"Yup, definitely crazy." He muttered to himself, shaking his head. Well, whatever kind of odd delusion he was having it sure was persistent. "The Observers?" Maybe this will have an explanation that might make him feel less insane.

This was a lot to swallow on your second day on the island.

It's a lot to take in. And while it is real instead of just being an elaborate psychotic break (albeit, a sort of 'real' that doesn't rule out everything being something generated in a holodeck), that's also not something that is easily proven. To say nothing of the fact that he's still not aware of the fact that Seifer is even so much as considering that particular possibility, or at least not until he catches the comment Seifer mutters to himself.

"The individuals presumably responsible for us being here in the first place."

And possibly also the various remnants of technology left behind, few and comparatively recently discovered though they might be, But that is something that's still uncertain, and besides, he figures that Seifer likely has enough on his plate to deal with as it is, to judge by his comments thus far.

Psychotic break felt like the most reasonable conclusion given everything he was learning and being exposed to at this time. The holodeck, if he had known such technology existed, might also sound plausible to him. For now he's certain that he's just nuts, and that's all there is to it. Never expected to feel so lucid while he was completely insane, maybe that's why they say crazy people never realize they are, huh?

"So that's what we're calling them." Okay, he has a name for them. Good enough. It's something solid he can put a pin in.

"Alright. So. What does everyone do here? Is there a list? Like... just what do you do in a situation like this?" He's lost, sorry Picard you're the nearest one answering questions.

"It seems to be most commonly used term to refer to them, at least."

Not the only name he's heard, of course. But it does still seem to be the most common, in his experience. And if having even that much gives Seifer a foothold against the sheer ridiculousness that everything else can be, than he's glad to have offered it. He might, admittedly, like to have been able to offer more, but he's also more than aware that isn't always possible.

"That depends. As far as we've been able to tell there isn't a way to leave, and while I can't imagine there aren't still people looking for one, it's not always feasible to be constantly looking."

Which is also not likely to be terribly comfortable. But it is still the truth, nonetheless.

"'Least I got a name." It's something. Sometimes those little things to help you feel just slightly in control of what's going on is what you need to stay sane.

It's the little things that can help keep a person from dissolving into a full on existential crisis. Especially when said crisis might result in being an icicle. It would be fairly tragic if he died his second day there.

"No, that'd be too much," He agrees. And while at the precise moment he didn't care that much about escape it might change in the future. Right now he was just trying to figure out what the hell was going on. "So what do you do when you're not lookin'?" Seriously he needs ideas.

It would be tragic if anyone were to die from becoming an icicle, regardless of how long they had been in the village. Just as it would have been for any other death, regardless of the cause. But all the same it would certainly be inauspicious to have someone die so soon after their arrival, and given that there's only so much that can actually be done about the mice he certainly can't blame Seifer for being wary.

"Survive, mostly. The specifics tend to vary from person to person, but if you were looking for specifics... exploring is one option, as is hunting or otherwise seeing to the needs of the village."

Which is, he'll admit, still a little vague. But it should at least help give Seifer a basic idea of what most people tend to do, at the very least.

(OTA) A not so warm welcome

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