sixthiterationlogs | When I was stranded at the crossroads it was dismal and grey

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When I was stranded at the crossroads it was dismal and grey

WHO: Diego Hargreeves, No 00.02
WHERE: The fountain, around the village, the inn
WHEN: First days of March
OPEN TO: All, only one for the fountain please
WARNINGS: Will keep spoilers to a minimum, try and avoid details unless told they're okay, otherwise language, will update

Fountain, Arrival late in the evening

This was it. There was only one answer, one chance, and if it failed then they weren't any worse off than they already were. They were together though in ways they hadn't been for longer than Diego wants to think about. Just like he doesn't want to think about those lost. All they can think about is the chance they have now.

Panic and pain give way to peace, to knowing that all they've done, all Diego has done in training, has been meant for this.

And then he's inhaling water.

Years of training kick in and he scissor kicks his way to the surface, gasping for air as his lungs burn and the world comes into blurry twilight color as he blinks away the water. Bitter cold air bites into his skin, stealing the precious breathes he's taken with the the frigidness of the air. Managing to catch the edge of the fountain, Diego gives one last kick, pulling himself up and out and flopping onto the ground beside the fountain with wet thwock.

Laying there panting, ignoring the pressure of something under him in the form of of a backpack and not yet aware of his missing fear and clothes. Staring up at a sky slowly turning from purple to dark navy, a fine shiver beginning to set in as the cold not only settles over him but seeps in from beneath.

"F..." He tries to start and find the words failing. The worst hasn't happened, but this isn't what it is supposed to be. Closing his eyes, Diego forces himself to picture the word. Four letters. A single word. A sibling's name. "Five," he manages with the barest hint of a tremor. "What the hell have you done?"

The Inn

The inn seems to be the hub of the town, such as it is, and Diego spends a lot of time in that area with a hope of finding his missing family members. As the days go on, he knows he'll have to face that they've all been scattered to the four corners of the universe, but he's not willing to give up hope.

Not that he's happy in those damn red scrubs. How the hell is a person meant to do anything circumspect dressed like an escapee from a horror movie asylum? Most of the time he has the heavy black coat on, trying to cover up the fact that he's new enough not to have somehow come across a wardrobe as so many in this place seem to have managed.

Most days he can be found sitting in the back of the room, chair turned with his back to the wall, eating or reading whatever he might have found, his gaze moving too much to really absorb any of it. Much too suspicious to do more than watch and wait more often than not.

Around the village

During the daylight hours Diego is often pacing the area of the village, slowly exploring everything within "city limits" and then working his way outwards as the days go on. Figuring that most have asked for answers, and that he isn't the first one here, but he's looking for things in particular. His father's writings, signs of his siblings, a freaking briefcase that he's heard about that could mean getting the hell out of here.

Most of it leads to frustration as little shows up to help, and there's no sign of those he's looking for. It isn't until several days into things that he figures he should at least set up and get in some practice. Snagging some butter knives and a pillow from an empty house, he heads to a tree by the edge of the forest to practice.

And finds something is definitely wrong.

Sure he's hitting the targets because twenty-five years of practice means that he knows what he's doing, but the aim is just a little off. It's not as easy as it's been his entire life. Gathering them up time and again, throwing them hard and with all he's got, snarling as they don't go just as he wants them to. And instead of looking for the reason, he keeps practicing, putting small cuts in the pillowcase as he tries desperately to click with the very skills he was born with and now seems to be missing.

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"Well, the whole purgatory thing falls apart with Lucifer and Thor around," North agrees. "Do you want to borrow my coat for the walk? I'm really concerned about hypothermia chances."

Don't mind him, he's going to hover with that brotherly concern on his face, that isn't going away.

"But don't discount the death thing. I died before arriving here."

Diego can't help but chuckle at that, shifting to pull down the pack he's never seen, frowning at it. Which is about when he notices the clothes. "What the ever loving fuck," he mutters, running his hand over the bright red of the thin fabric. "Where the fuck are my things?"

Raising his gaze to this man, arching a brow. "You have to know how you sound, right? And my life is full of weird shit, and I'm still staring at you like you're nuts. For one? Only my brother sees ghosts. Two, after everything? I really don't believe in Hell. No offense man if you do, and if you think you died and you're not dead? That's great for you but..."

But yeah, he lost him somewhere around Lucifer and Thor. The dead part he could handle, but it's not his deal.

"You seen a kid around here about this high," he says, gesturing with his hand. "A lot of attitude and probably telling everyone what to do?" He figures starting there is the best bet. "I can describe the rest of my siblings, but he's going to be the loudest and most annoying if you ran into him. And what the hell if up with the scrubs? What year is it?" That might explain some things.

Well, yes, North knows how he sounds. He pauses and turns to look at Diego. "I'm from 2554, after Earth and her colonies had been at war for the entirety of my life against aliens seeking to wipe us out to a head because their religion demanded it. Or they thought it did. And I'm telling you that since my arrival here, I've met Thor of the Aesir, who remembers things from thousands of years in my past, I've met a man who goes by Lucifer Morningstar who speaks of missing his wings and refers to his 'father' with an actually audible capital letter there. I've met women with naturally blue hair and right now a portion of our village has been whisked away by unknown means in pairs of two, out into the wilderness to collect things like feathers from an archeopteryx, which is a dinosaur that is long extinct, and the feathers can make you float. So I assure you, no matter how weird I sound, you're going to learn to adjust."

And he hasn't even mentioned the self-aware and fully intelligent computer program in his own head. But he's left offering Diego a soft, sad smile. "You're not in Kansas anymore, Dorothy."

As for the other thing, North closes his eyes for a moment, letting Theta run through the whole of faces of those he's met here. At last he shakes his head. "I haven't met anyone like that before. The youngest person I've met here was an older teen than that. As for the scrubs, we all show up here in them near as I can tell, with a pack of other supplies. The technology seems just prior to proper good things, not all the houses have electricity or appliances. And at this point I'd ask that you hold further questions until we can get you somewhere to warm up a bit. We don't have much we can medically to address things like pneumonia if you were to develop it."

"You know, I have a brother that talks just like that," he says, nodding and while his words don't change, his expression does. A bit softer, not quite as aggressive as he has been, even if he's cold, and hungry, and trying to figure out how his brother could leap through fucking time to pick up girlfriends and umbrellas for his damn margaritas, but this time when it's most important, he fucked it up. But his experience is making him think one thing specifically, and if that's the case, he feels for the guy.

"And when he does, I have to take it all with a grain of salt and a shot of tequila because just because he believes it's real doesn't make it reality for everyone."

Which is him being much kinder than he might have been to many. He knows a lot of it is reality for Klaus, and some of it is but that's the voices coming through to him from the other side. The rest is a lot of drugs to shut out those same voices.

"You know running down all of that and then expecting a stranger to follow you after they've woken up like they've been unwilling committed is basically asking a guy to accept he's running up the stairs rather than out the front door of a horror movie, right?" He doesn't wait for an answer though, just gestures with one hand. "But sure, lead on. I'm willing to play along."

"We don't have tequila, but I hear Iron Bull, and you're definitely going to have trouble taking how appropriate that name is with a grain of salt, and Desmond are working on beer. So give it a while and you'll at least have something."

Reality is what the world around you reflects, North is coming to realize. Which is definitely not comforting. But the guy isn't fighting him, and that's all North needs. It's just across the hall, it's a public place, and North's only care is warmth. He lets Diego grumble all he wants as he guides the man across the street and right in to the warmth of the inn. Which his lights on, but they're Edwardian electric lights, they are not modern at all, and the fireplace is clearly a better source of light at this hour than anything else.

"Bathroom is that way. In your backpack there's a change of warm clothes. The pack's waterproof. I suggest changing in there and spreading your clothes in front of the fire. After that I'll show you the kitchen, you're welcome to prepare your own meal. You strike me as paranoid enough not to trust me to cook for you."

"You'd be amazed at how much I can dismiss when I put my mind to it," he says, though a giant Bull isn't much different than his ape brother so maybe that one will be easier than most. "Sad part is? Much as I joke about it, I don't drink that much. I'm kind of always on call and drinking like would be needed is risking my life and others," he says.

But he follows, heading for the inn. Not looking at all impressed when he got inside, considering the place and the hint of smoke in the air, and that smell that likely reminds many people of camping. He's never been though.

"Paranoid people live," he points out, considering the pack he's carrying. "But sure. Give me a minute and I'll get changed and see how much more insane this place can sound," he says with a bright smile and heads for the way indicated.

"You're not wrong. Until they die," North shrugs as he moves to settle down by the fire. But look, he's still got the clothes he took from here. With a thought he sits by the fire and starts folding it in front of the fire. Better to have the clothes tidy again.

It's not long before he comes back, gingerly carrying the bundle of clothes that are not quite dripping from where he has wrung them out.

"Anyone got any idea how much experimentation they've done on us before we show up drowning? My last memories were not in scrubs, and who knows how long they keep us drugged before leaving us to literally sink or swim."

It's obvious what's been on his mind when changing from one set of the scrubs to another.

"Not sure, but when I woke up it was in something like a cryostasis tube. So it could be quite a bit. I've got scars I can't remember, but I can explain them now that I have some information I didn't have when I woke."

He reaches out and takes the clothes, carefully draping them over the backs of chairs he'd brought over to the fire for the purpose. However, he can't say very much about the rest of it.

"You okay with leaving these here while I show you the kitchen?"

"Yeah, that's not even surprising," he says, nose wrinkling at the thought. "What do you mean that you can explain them now?" Frowning at that, head cocking to one side. "Do you have any information on what they did to us then? I mean, come on. This has alien abduction written all over it," he says with a snort, not sounding at all convinced. "Personally always wondered why the government didn't step in with our dad. Maybe they're just late," he mutters, shrugging at that question.

"Technically they're not mine, so sure. None of my things were actually here, and whatever the psychos behind this want to give us doesn't make them mine."

"The only sorts of aliens I've run into were more likely to kill you with a plasma blast or energy sword than abduct you. Humans aren't worth study."

Sorry, he's a bit used to aliens, and that is out of their wheel house. Still, this man is definitely another weird one. not as weird as Lucifer, but North would be glad not to meet another like that.

"I met someone here, from a bit in my own future. He could explain them," North shrugs. That he really had died.

"You say that like you aren't one? Are you? Because I beg to differ, if you know the right humans."

Because he knows the ones that want to study the hell out of his brother, and the rest of them as well. And they're humans. At least as far as he knows. Not as if they were told anything else to think otherwise.

"Funny. I met someone from my future too. He told me the apocalypse was coming. Wanna guess what happened?" There's still so much bitterness in his tones, pain that he isn't sure how to handle. This place means that he can't be there for them to try and stop the world ending, and he's pissed as fuck to be yanked from that.

Really? Is he? Of course he is. Look at him. Clearly a human. Doesn't see a point to arguing that because what else would he be? If it looks human and speaks human, it's human.

A man from the man's future? Interesting. Not that North isn't aware of some degree of time distortion. But the way the man talks about it doesn't seem very plausible.

"That happens here, though. I've heard things about history on Earth that never made it into my history books, so I'd have to subscribe to the multi-verse theory, which would suggest that possibly the apocalypse you were warned about may have been from another offshoot of time."

"Not reassuring," he says, already starting to wonder if the damn Commission has anything to do with this. Hell, for all he knows, this is some kind of training base for them. Actually that thought isn't at all comforting, and fairly worrying given what they have to think about his family by now.

"Yeah, already know about it. Dealt with their timekeepers and shit, and the people the send to ensure horrible things happen to appease them or some shit," he says, anger creepy into his tones, thinking about what they did to Patch. Maybe he let that bitch live but he won't not be angry about it.

Uh, well... now that sounded weird and highly uncomfortable to North. Still, he cants his head toward the kitchen, suggesting Diego join him. Better to get the guy fed. Warm food inside will help warm him faster.

"When I'm from, the biggest threat to humanity is a set of alien races called the Covenant. Their favorite thing was using plasma blasts to glass planets, killing everything and everyone. So I guess people playing with time don't sound so surprising."

Leaving his things there, meager and weird as they are, is not the most comfortable thing to go, but he leaves them figuring if anyone wants crappy ass scrubs, they can have them.

"Always figured there were aliens out there," Diego says. "I know some say it explains people with abilities most don't know but not sure I buy that.' Because he's not an alien, dammit. "It shouldn't have surprised me, but it did. I mean, my brother had apparently died trying to play with time so I just assumed it was impossible until he wasn't dead."

"There are, and they aren't very nice," North sighs, but he does get them into the kitchen and moves to the kettle to fill it with water from the tap before putting it on the stove and turning the electric burner on. "Check the fridge, we might have some soup we can reheat on the stove."

Once the kettle is started he shows Diego the pantry with the tea supplies.

"Time is weird, I try not to think so much about it. I've got two people I know here, one from my past, one from two years in my future. And it's making a lot of tension. Like, if I tell them things now, will they make a better lives for themselves later? Would I still..."

Die?

"I bet they say that about Earthlings," he points out, figuring that most humans he knows aren't very nice at all. Or they're too nice and take chances for those that just get them killed," he says, shaking his head as he thinks about the truly good people he knows. All of whom are dead."

He moves to look in the fridge though, mostly to investigate things, to see what this place consists of. "And where does the food come from? Who prepares it?" Poking around, but not eating anything. He knows he will eventually, but not until he gets a lot more answers.

"That depends on why things happened, and who wanted them to happen," he says, glancing at him. "No matter what we were doing, the world would end. We couldn't change it because my brother is a fucking idiot," he says, making a face and rolling his eyes. "Because it was wanted, and we couldn't stop it. So depends on who wants things so badly in your world, or if they just happen to be."

Please, Diego, don't be a Covenant apologist. The very suggestion of it makes North's face hard.

"They rain plasma fire down onto planets, temperatures so hot that it flash-melts stone, leaving the planet looking like it's made of obsidian glass. It's their religious goal to wipe us out. Or it was," he explains, voice hard. It's complicated. And his tone, the way his arms are crossed over his chest, the tension in the muscles of his neck, they all say 'don't press, I'm not talking about it.'

Instead he watches Diego in the fridge, trying to figure out what to say.

"Greenhouse or fields. There's agriculture going on here. Sometimes boxes appear from our keepers with things in them. As for the food in here, there's no small number of us who work on rotation to make communal meals. To make life easier for everyone. Especially as not everyone can cook."

The rest, he's not sure what to say about it all. Tries not to think about it too much.

Diego slowly rises, staring at the other man over the door as his tones change. Staring at him, arching a brow because yeah, and he is still betting humans would do the same if they could figure out the technology. Hell, they do such a good job wiping out one another, after all. Why not aliens?

But he just bends back down, poking at the fridge contents again, sniffing at this and that, making faces.

"Oh good, the keepers just randomly disperse boxes. Never seen that tactic in war zones before... oh wait," he says, shaking his head as he closes the fridge, leaning back against it. "And then next time it's poisoned or there's explosive charges. Always a fun paranoia to put in people's heads." Nodding as he thinks of it, figuring the awful tactics he's seen in the past could easily apply to this place.

"And everyone just helps one another like that?"

Why would it seem so strange that they would help each other? To North it feels rather natural. But he was always more of a caring person when it came to things like this, wasn't he? He offers a small smile when Diego asks.

"Of course. We're stuck here together, you know? If we don't turn to each other, who can we turn to?"

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When I was stranded at the crossroads it was dismal and grey

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