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deercountry2022-05-07 11:47 am
distant_one) wrote in deercountry2022-05-07 11:47 am
[Open] Long and Weary
Who: D, his Left Hand, and anyone
What: D arrives and wanders around and behaves strangely.
When: Early May
Where: Various places.
Content Warnings:: None in the prompts, will be added to subject lines as needed
Just after arriving in town for the first time
Outwardly, D was perfectly calm and collected despite having just washed up on a beach as a squid. He was dressed in his familiar hat and heavily patched great coat, his sword on his back and his blue pendant around his neck.
There was no sign that this was anything other than an ordinary day for him, except perhaps the fact that he was carrying a saddle and attached saddlebag over his left shoulder. That, and every now and then the fingers of his left hand would twitch.
While looking for somewhere suitable to store the saddle for which he had no use and to claim as a place to stay, a strange noise came from the vicinity of his hand and the saddle slipped from his grasp. Rather than immediately pick up the saddle, D flexed the ungloved fingers of his left hand and squeezed his hand into a tight fist a few times.
Watching the rain around town, a couple days after arriving
D had been around the city, but mostly kept out of plain view, visible often only as a dark figure blending in with the shadow of whatever was near. He wore his normal dark clothing, but now the robe he'd been given when he arrived was worn outside the heavy coat, and still wearing a glove only on his right hand.
Reassured of his self control, D ventured into areas with more people. He found unobtrusive places around more populated areas of the city to stand and observe, seemingly paying attention only to the rain. None of myriad of insects present throughout the city would come within a few feet of him. When they drew too close, they would suddenly decide to fly very quickly away from him.
When the rain was finished, D would move on to find another location to observe, but his steps caused not even a slight ripple when he stepped on a puddle.
Practice makes perfect, in a deserted, previously quiet alleyway
Even the slight changes in this existence were enough to have D test out his abilities and test the thousands of years he'd honed his skill and precision. D was still cautious and alert; he wasn't going to practice while anyone was watching. His senses were acute enough to catch the faint sounds of footsteps, or breathing, or even a heartbeat approaching over the soft sound of fracturing stone that echoed through the evening air.
D wasn't going to let people stop, but he also wasn't going to flee, either. Anyone who followed the sound of stone breaking, sharp but not too loud, would find D still in the location he'd chosen for his practice. He was calm and unmoving, his attention on a large block of quarried stone which had once likely been part of a larger structure.
The surface of the stone was no longer even, rough-hewn wooden needles protruding at various lengths and with cracks radiating out. They formed a grid pattern so unnervingly precise from center to center of each needle that they could have been used for measurement.
What: D arrives and wanders around and behaves strangely.
When: Early May
Where: Various places.
Content Warnings:: None in the prompts, will be added to subject lines as needed
Just after arriving in town for the first time
Outwardly, D was perfectly calm and collected despite having just washed up on a beach as a squid. He was dressed in his familiar hat and heavily patched great coat, his sword on his back and his blue pendant around his neck.
There was no sign that this was anything other than an ordinary day for him, except perhaps the fact that he was carrying a saddle and attached saddlebag over his left shoulder. That, and every now and then the fingers of his left hand would twitch.
While looking for somewhere suitable to store the saddle for which he had no use and to claim as a place to stay, a strange noise came from the vicinity of his hand and the saddle slipped from his grasp. Rather than immediately pick up the saddle, D flexed the ungloved fingers of his left hand and squeezed his hand into a tight fist a few times.
Watching the rain around town, a couple days after arriving
D had been around the city, but mostly kept out of plain view, visible often only as a dark figure blending in with the shadow of whatever was near. He wore his normal dark clothing, but now the robe he'd been given when he arrived was worn outside the heavy coat, and still wearing a glove only on his right hand.
Reassured of his self control, D ventured into areas with more people. He found unobtrusive places around more populated areas of the city to stand and observe, seemingly paying attention only to the rain. None of myriad of insects present throughout the city would come within a few feet of him. When they drew too close, they would suddenly decide to fly very quickly away from him.
When the rain was finished, D would move on to find another location to observe, but his steps caused not even a slight ripple when he stepped on a puddle.
Practice makes perfect, in a deserted, previously quiet alleyway
Even the slight changes in this existence were enough to have D test out his abilities and test the thousands of years he'd honed his skill and precision. D was still cautious and alert; he wasn't going to practice while anyone was watching. His senses were acute enough to catch the faint sounds of footsteps, or breathing, or even a heartbeat approaching over the soft sound of fracturing stone that echoed through the evening air.
D wasn't going to let people stop, but he also wasn't going to flee, either. Anyone who followed the sound of stone breaking, sharp but not too loud, would find D still in the location he'd chosen for his practice. He was calm and unmoving, his attention on a large block of quarried stone which had once likely been part of a larger structure.
The surface of the stone was no longer even, rough-hewn wooden needles protruding at various lengths and with cracks radiating out. They formed a grid pattern so unnervingly precise from center to center of each needle that they could have been used for measurement.
no subject
"And your companion...?"
no subject
"Are you implying that I should not?" On the surface, he's doubling down. But it's also something of a challenge. What reason does he have to trust D, a man who he has only just met? He doesn't even trust those he's closest to with his true nature.
"My companion is a Ghost." Which, he assumes, means something rather different to everyone else here, so he clarifies: "A machine lifeform."
Technically more a sentient paracausal energy signature in the form of a tiny, sassy drone, but who's counting?
no subject
"An interesting use of the word Ghost. Where I'm from it's used for the lingering souls of the dead or things that are mistaken for him." There's a bit of poetry to it, a synthetic ghost haunting a machine.
"You're from a very machine-centric society I take it."
no subject
And he says that as casually as if he were talking about the weather. Should he find it more strange than he does? Perhaps. But from his perspective, it's normal. The Risen were once dead. And the Risen will die again, hundreds, thousands of times. It's their Ghosts which give them life.
That's an interesting observation, however. Machine-centric. What an odd way to put it.
"Humanity was... advanced, if that's what you mean, though much of what they'd built was lost during the Collapse. But Ghosts were not created by humanity."