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sixthiterationlogs2016-07-25 11:29 pm
booklegging) wrote in sixthiterationlogs2016-07-25 11:29 pm
001 ♙ open
WHO: Jess Brightwell.
WHERE: The fountain, the town, and later on, the inn.
WHEN: July 25th.
OPEN TO: Anyone!
WARNINGS: Wet, grumpy teens and probably swearing.
STATUS: Open.
I. Fountain
Jess woke up to bone-chilling darkness. A wet darkness, some part of his mind supplied when a pressure pushed on him from below and he felt his limbs, sluggish and heavy, cut through liquid in an uncoordinated thrash.
Water. He was in water.
The jolting realization came too late to stop himself from doing the one thing he shouldn't do: open his mouth and inhale. The burn of frigid water in his lungs and up his nose instantly woke Jess up, and then panic was setting in for real, colder even than the gloomy water in which he was submerged. Instinct was a screaming voice in his head propelling him in the direction he'd been pushed. Up, he prayed. Let it be up.
Just when Jess thought he couldn't hold back the need to expel his lungs a second longer, he breached the surface, coughing until every muscle in his chest felt like it was spasming. He paddled his arms, fighting to clear his eyes, his movements made extra jerky by an unfamiliar weight on his back. The backpack was hardly as heavy as the fully-stocked travel packs he'd trained with, but between it and getting caught by surprise, he wasn't as graceful pulling himself from the pool as he would've liked. Half-rolling, Jess ended up in a sprawl, caught at an awkward angle on his side because of the backpack like a turtle flipped on its back.
If Glain could see this display, she'd have him running laps around the training field for the rest of his life and then some.
... Glain. The High Garda compound. The barracks.
Now that he wasn't in any immediate danger of drowning in his sleep, the questions were tumbling in. How had he gotten from there to here without waking up? Wherever "here" was.
Instinct told him something was wrong, horribly wrong, eclipsing the sweet relief at having air to gulp down. Wriggling out of the backpack, Jess pulled himself onto his knees and looked down at himself, and what he saw justified the renewed panic beating in his chest like a second heartbeat. He didn't recognize a single thing he was wearing. Where was his uniform? His belt with his tools? Anything? He reached for the bag--also unfamiliar--and tore into it, shoving aside more unfamiliar articles of clothing. Nothing. No knife, no Codex. Things he wouldn't leave behind and people wouldn't dare take from him. What the hell.
This was bad. It certainly couldn't be good.
II. Town
Later in the day, Jess could no longer resist the urge to get out from under prying eyes and take some air by himself, prompting him to head out into town on alone. Seeing was believing, and Jess needed to see what he was up against with his own eyes.
Keeping away from the main drag to avoid notice, he cautiously picked his way along the outer fringe of the settlement. Everything had a threatening newness to it that had Jess on high alert, pausing at every unfamiliar crack of a branch and checking over his shoulder at each turn to make sure he wasn't being followed. The town was larger than he'd expected and had the uncanny appearance of a set piece. Like an elaborate replica of a pioneer village that time had forgotten.
It's strange, ghost-like feel made Jess uneasy, and he put a concentrated effort into avoiding the view of windows, approaching from the rears of building until he was close enough to peer in through them. He wasn't sure he wanted to meet whoever lived in these ramshackle houses, if they were even occupied.
At one house, he tried a side door. The knob turned soundlessly under his hand. It felt like a trap. All of it did. This entire town. He'd never thought he would, but for once he missed his armored uniform and the heavy High Garda weapons that went with it. He'd feel safer with something besides a dull fear pounding in his head.
III. Inn
By all rights, Jess should be dead to the world after this rotten day--the cherry on a shite cake as he hadn't been averaging much sleep in the days proceeding this anyway--but no amount of mental and physical exhaustion could dull Jess' prickling nerves, even after day gave way to late night, and the quiet town grew even quieter.
He'd taken shelter in the inn once it'd started to get dark, seeing no better option, yet he couldn't bring himself to touch the abandoned beds. Eventually Jess crept into the front room and picked a perch near one of the windows, staring out into the inky darkness beyond with restless intensity.
He should rest. He needed to rest. He was running on fumes, stomach churning with hunger and unease both. But he just couldn't. He was used to the noise and bustle of Alexandria and having his fellow recruits around him in the barracks. This place was as quiet as a grave... and that was definitely not a comparison he appreciated, especially with how conveniently timed his abduction was when he considered all the variables at work. They'd been making moves against the Artifex, and suddenly he ended up in the middle of nowhere without his Library identification? Too well-timed.
Explanations chased themselves around his head--how he'd been taken, who would've taken him, who would notice him gone--and ended up at the same dead ends each time. Jess rested his chin on his knees, frustrating with each fruitless loop. The not knowing would kill him if the jaws of the trap he could feel closing around him didn't first.
WHERE: The fountain, the town, and later on, the inn.
WHEN: July 25th.
OPEN TO: Anyone!
WARNINGS: Wet, grumpy teens and probably swearing.
STATUS: Open.
I. Fountain
Jess woke up to bone-chilling darkness. A wet darkness, some part of his mind supplied when a pressure pushed on him from below and he felt his limbs, sluggish and heavy, cut through liquid in an uncoordinated thrash.
Water. He was in water.
The jolting realization came too late to stop himself from doing the one thing he shouldn't do: open his mouth and inhale. The burn of frigid water in his lungs and up his nose instantly woke Jess up, and then panic was setting in for real, colder even than the gloomy water in which he was submerged. Instinct was a screaming voice in his head propelling him in the direction he'd been pushed. Up, he prayed. Let it be up.
Just when Jess thought he couldn't hold back the need to expel his lungs a second longer, he breached the surface, coughing until every muscle in his chest felt like it was spasming. He paddled his arms, fighting to clear his eyes, his movements made extra jerky by an unfamiliar weight on his back. The backpack was hardly as heavy as the fully-stocked travel packs he'd trained with, but between it and getting caught by surprise, he wasn't as graceful pulling himself from the pool as he would've liked. Half-rolling, Jess ended up in a sprawl, caught at an awkward angle on his side because of the backpack like a turtle flipped on its back.
If Glain could see this display, she'd have him running laps around the training field for the rest of his life and then some.
... Glain. The High Garda compound. The barracks.
Now that he wasn't in any immediate danger of drowning in his sleep, the questions were tumbling in. How had he gotten from there to here without waking up? Wherever "here" was.
Instinct told him something was wrong, horribly wrong, eclipsing the sweet relief at having air to gulp down. Wriggling out of the backpack, Jess pulled himself onto his knees and looked down at himself, and what he saw justified the renewed panic beating in his chest like a second heartbeat. He didn't recognize a single thing he was wearing. Where was his uniform? His belt with his tools? Anything? He reached for the bag--also unfamiliar--and tore into it, shoving aside more unfamiliar articles of clothing. Nothing. No knife, no Codex. Things he wouldn't leave behind and people wouldn't dare take from him. What the hell.
This was bad. It certainly couldn't be good.
II. Town
Later in the day, Jess could no longer resist the urge to get out from under prying eyes and take some air by himself, prompting him to head out into town on alone. Seeing was believing, and Jess needed to see what he was up against with his own eyes.
Keeping away from the main drag to avoid notice, he cautiously picked his way along the outer fringe of the settlement. Everything had a threatening newness to it that had Jess on high alert, pausing at every unfamiliar crack of a branch and checking over his shoulder at each turn to make sure he wasn't being followed. The town was larger than he'd expected and had the uncanny appearance of a set piece. Like an elaborate replica of a pioneer village that time had forgotten.
It's strange, ghost-like feel made Jess uneasy, and he put a concentrated effort into avoiding the view of windows, approaching from the rears of building until he was close enough to peer in through them. He wasn't sure he wanted to meet whoever lived in these ramshackle houses, if they were even occupied.
At one house, he tried a side door. The knob turned soundlessly under his hand. It felt like a trap. All of it did. This entire town. He'd never thought he would, but for once he missed his armored uniform and the heavy High Garda weapons that went with it. He'd feel safer with something besides a dull fear pounding in his head.
III. Inn
By all rights, Jess should be dead to the world after this rotten day--the cherry on a shite cake as he hadn't been averaging much sleep in the days proceeding this anyway--but no amount of mental and physical exhaustion could dull Jess' prickling nerves, even after day gave way to late night, and the quiet town grew even quieter.
He'd taken shelter in the inn once it'd started to get dark, seeing no better option, yet he couldn't bring himself to touch the abandoned beds. Eventually Jess crept into the front room and picked a perch near one of the windows, staring out into the inky darkness beyond with restless intensity.
He should rest. He needed to rest. He was running on fumes, stomach churning with hunger and unease both. But he just couldn't. He was used to the noise and bustle of Alexandria and having his fellow recruits around him in the barracks. This place was as quiet as a grave... and that was definitely not a comparison he appreciated, especially with how conveniently timed his abduction was when he considered all the variables at work. They'd been making moves against the Artifex, and suddenly he ended up in the middle of nowhere without his Library identification? Too well-timed.
Explanations chased themselves around his head--how he'd been taken, who would've taken him, who would notice him gone--and ended up at the same dead ends each time. Jess rested his chin on his knees, frustrating with each fruitless loop. The not knowing would kill him if the jaws of the trap he could feel closing around him didn't first.
no subject
But he has the same determination as Peggy to break down walls. If Jess can't bring it down by force, he'll go over it. It doesn't matter what it takes, every day he wastes here is one less day he's searching for Thomas, and what's happening to his friend must be ten times worse than what he's seen happening here.
Peggy's comment earns a short, dry laugh. "It'd be quicker to list what isn't suspicious to me," Jess says. "And what I haven't found is just as suspicious. But I guess that's the point. This is psychological warfare."
He's had the entire day to come to that conclusion and it's the answer that fits best, as disheartening as it is.
no subject
When he calls it psychological warfare, she thinks that he's absolutely right. Everything in this place seems to be a mind game. She's used to staying aware all the time, but that had been during wartime when everyone had been on high alert and every day could be your last. She doesn't know how long that they can do this without running into exhaustion.
"Are you thinking of going out to map the canyon?"
no subject
There are so many blanks left to fill. What this place is, where it is, who to talk to, who's behind this. If this isn't the Artifex's retaliation, then what is it?
He still doesn't have an adequate explanation for how he'd been caught unawares and left to drown in a fountain, and that thought's going to haunt him, chasing away any chance of rest tonight. He knows himself--he'll be turning the last memory he has of being in the High Garda barracks over in his mind until he has an answer. It's going to be a long night and a hard day tomorrow, that goes without saying, but it doesn't stop Jess from saying, "First light tomorrow. They made one big mistake, and that was letting us roam free."
no subject
"I'll be there," she says firmly, because she doesn't want to miss out on any discoveries or acquisition of information. She might not want to put her name out there to lead, but she also doesn't want to be kept in the dark when it comes to developments. "What are you hoping we'll find, beyond that hopeful way out?"
no subject
Besides, the commanders he'd follow aren't here, and for all he knows, the High Garda did this.
While he's thinking this, the woman's response surprises him a little and Jess blinks. Hold on, what? "You want to come with me?" he asks with some uncertainty. He hadn't taken a partner into account. He'd assumed everyone would be out for themselves until they turned something substantial up.
no subject
She's not going to offer him an out so much as wait and see what he has to say.
no subject
"Because you just met me."
There's an unspoken question in the words. Is going off with somebody she doesn't know not something she'd think twice about? He could be anyone. He could be dangerous. Or worse, he could be grossly incompetent and not know the business end of a gun from its grip. She'd have to wait and see and by then it could be too late.
It'd been a long week even before this; maybe the constantly having to look over his shoulder is getting to him, making him see everything through lenses of wariness. Dodging the Library hadn't left him in the most trusting of mindsets, and this town is the cherry on the paranoia cake.
no subject
"Not knowing you and having just met you is only more of a reason to come along," is her reply, like the logic is absolutely clear.
no subject
The woman who says she's from the twentieth century doesn't trust him?
"Don't forget, I'm also apparently from the future. I could be here to screw up the past or whatever it is people do when they step outside of time." This is definitely teasing.
no subject
"The best way to avoid that is just to have me there, too."
no subject
Jess can't think of anything when escape is his priority. Escape. Find a way to contact the others. That's all that matters.
To that end, he doesn't have the luxury of being picky over who he's sharing his figurative prison cell with and he recognizes he's at a disadvantage when it comes to knowing what kind of terrain is out there. He nods finally. "I'd appreciate the extra set of eyes. You have more experience with this place better than I do."
As long as she can handle herself and won't slow him down.
no subject
"We'll find a way out," she says, as determined as ever. "We can't possibly be stuck here without a way out. It's just that we haven't found it yet."
no subject
He doesn't take it personally. The proof is in the pudding and she has no way of gauging his skill set, that he has a perfectly capable set of sharp eyes, made all the sharper by noticing things that others overlook the same as her. Pride underscores the thought; he's been underestimated and pushed to prove his worth, too, and he's not about to fall short of the challenge, not with other postulants, not with the Library, and not here among a group of ragtag survivors.
"Glad to hear it." That she's tenacious. That she means business. "I can't speak to correcting the time continuum, but people don't just build towns in complete isolation. Worse comes to worst, we climb out. If this is some kind of place where they make people disappear like I'm thinking, it has to be guarded. Either way, we draw them out."
He'd be a lot more confident of the plan if he had a gun and knew where to aim it. That said, letting the unknown variables paralyze him could be even more disastrous and he can't allow that.