sixthiterationlogs | arrival; what joy, a perfect holiday

WHO: Neil Mackay
WHERE: Next to the fountain and then throughout the area
WHEN: February 25th
OPEN TO: OTA
WARNINGS: Possible violence or threats of it, possible discussion of past war-time violence
STATUS: Just so very open

arrival;

The fountain feels like a dream- the water, swimming up through it but feeling the pressure, the need to reach air again... it's a bit more metaphorical than most of his dreams these days, but the theme's the same. Of course, then he breaches the surface and it's all a bit more real than it should be. It's chilly and it's wet and it's definitely not the Polish forests.

Right, then.

He'll be by the fountain for a while, sorting through the contents of his backpack and trying to untangle what the fuck just happened and how he wound up this far separated from the team.

reconnaissance;

Neil's exploration- whenever it ends up taking place- is systematic, thorough, and only slightly hampered by the fact that these boots are still squelching every time he walks. The rest of his clothes are dry, it's just the bloody boots that are getting on his last bloody nerve.

He spends a lot of time on the borders of the canyon, eyeing up the cliffs and wondering how fast it'd take whatever guards this camp's got to react, how fast the guns would fire. Not a test to make in the middle of the day, when anyone can see him. He'll be back once he knows more.

He spends time in the village, too, inspecting the buildings and watching the inhabitants with disguised suspicion. Fellow inmates or something else? It's too early to say.

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

Kids should be protected and looked after. It went against Neil's sense of right and wrong that he'd seen so many cases where they weren't- though he'd seen parents and families do anything to protect them, too. But he wasn't going to get lost in his thoughts right now, he had a conversation to continue.

"So we don't know how or why we're here and we've got no idea who it is that's doing the imprisoning? That's brilliant, that is. It's not the Germans?" He hadn't seen any swastikas or uniforms when he'd been exploring the perimeters, and they usually liked to make their presence known. But he had to check.

"There have been some places found, but no people yet. If you go into the Inn there's a map and I think they've marked where things are as people explore and find them." She could be personable long enough to help the newcomer, it wasn't that hard. And she needed to practice anways, practice being at least semi-friendly in general just in case someone came that she really didn't want knowing about just how far down the road of revenge she'd gone. "It's also a good place to stay if you don't want to worry about cleaning out a house for yourself."

"Who are the Germans?" She frowned as she asked this, wracking her brain for any mention of 'Germans' that she could remember and coming up blank.

"That's good to know. Which way's that?" He'd seen a few buildings that looked to be more inhabited than the rest, but he wasn't sure which one of those the Inn would be. Not that he would have trouble figuring it out but there was nothing wrong with getting information and building a connection with the kid. He hadn't seen hide nor hair of the team and that meant that he was going to have to get allies. Kids could be useful- people overlooked them and they were usually sharper than adults thought they were. They'd used them as message runners all the time.

"The- Germans. The Boche, the Nazis- you know, lots of uniforms and saluting and yelling. I'd have thought they were definitely behind a place like this."

"Come on, I'll show you." She didn't mind the idea of slipping in for a hot drink after a day of exploration, and it would mean he was less likely to get turned around. Not that it was too easy to do so, but sometimes it paid just to do things the simple way. Gesturing as she turned to walk, trusting that he'd follow her.

"I can't say I've heard of them by any of those names. But then, insane as it sounds, many here claim to be from entirely different worlds, or if they are from the same world, they seem to not be from the same time, if you can believe that." She grimaced, knowing how mad it sounded, even if she'd come to accept that of everything that much at least was true. "The only proof I have honestly is that several of my siblings are here, and none of us seem to remember to the same point as the others. I'd say it's a terrible joke, but it's gone on too long for that, and they aren't the sort to joke about a thing like that."

"Thanks." He followed her a few steps behind, alert for any sign of her leading him into an ambush. He had no obvious reason to mistrust her, but just because his first instinct was to like her didn't mean she wasn't part of some kind of gang. Fellow coppers had fallen prey to this sort of thing back in Shanghai all the time and if there were no guards on the prison there was no telling how the inmates had organized themselves.

She was right. It did sound mad- completely and utterly bonkers. Maybe he'd just lost it in the woods and Alfred was somewhere shaking him and trying to snap him out of it. "Sure, why not? This makes complete and utter sense- never heard anything more likely in my life."

His sarcasm was as thick as he could possibly make it.

She didn't take his distrust personally. Honestly it was a good thing, hinting that if something were to go wrong that he'd be more likely to avoid getting caught in the middle. But it did mean she'd have to be mindful of how she behaved around him. But she could do that, she'd been honing her skills with Margaery, felt much more confident about her ability to appear as nothing more than a normal girl.

She let out an inelegant snort at the sarcastic response, smirking over her shoulder at him.

"Completely rational and logical right? Just like the flying pigs I've heard so much about."

He'd be in the middle of anything that went wrong, but he wouldn't be caught. He'd be punching things, as he usually did. He knew how to deal with trouble.

"Oh, yeah, who wouldn't want pigs with wings? Totally normal. Speaking of, is it normal to go around here armed? That's a big stick you've got." If there was trouble here, he wanted to be ready for it.

"Most carry something, at least a knife or something of the sort. There have been incidents, some sort of creature around the time I arrived, but since that it's been calm. But as small as the population is here, I wouldn't put it past predators to come sniffing around." She shifted the stick in her grasp, glancing down at it.

"I use sticks like this to practice my swordplay. My last one finally broke, and this one is of a size to work in it's place."

"Yeah, in an isolated place like this..." He hadn't seen signs of anything too big in the woods when he'd been searching them, but something could come down the canyon walls if they weren't guarded up at the top. "Swordplay? People still use swords where... or when, whatever, you come from?"

Kids her age played with swords at home in England, playing Camelot or what have you, but she sounded a bit more serious about it than that.

arrival; what joy, a perfect holiday

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