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tampered2006-05-30 09:37 pm
hannin.livejournal.com) wrote in tampered2006-05-30 09:37 pm
Log: In progress?
When; Sunday, late evening to the present
Rating; PG-13 (swearing)
Characters;![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
hannin and anyone can join...
Summary; A mysterious vagabond appears in the city. Lost, confused, and quite soaked through, he's looking for answers from anyone/anything that will tell him what the heck is going on here.
Log;
The sounds of footsteps echoed softly in the darkness, the slow and steady rhythm of worn shoes scrapping across decaying asphalt. In the far distance, the lights of the city shone down, twinkling like fallen stars through a thin veil of fog that was rising up from the warm pavement as the cool night air settled in. Buildings with tall spires rose up into the dim horizon, stabbing towards the black above the unnatural aura that clung to the skyscrapers from the lights of the city.
It looked almost supernatural. Or it would have, had he seen it.
But his gaze was locked on the dull gravel at his feet, winding across the grassy areas of the manmade park. He watched the frayed pant cuffs move back and forth. He watched way the light barely reflected from the shabby boots, recalling for only a brief moment a time when the shoes shone black in the night as they crossed countries. And he watched the tattered edges of the long coat twist and dance as he walked the night, recalling a time before when the clothe was dyed a rich black.
Once, years ago, the clothes had been new, pressed and taken care of. But it seemed only a blink of an eye. Now they were falling apart, as ragged and worn out as their wearer. The coat even the black leather boots were now faded the same dull gray as the long disheveled hair which fell in front of the man’s face.
He was tired. So very tired.
He was sick of walking, always on the move. He could not settle, but he did not think that he could go much further.
Finally, the man’s uncovered eye lifted, catching the light of a nearby streetlight set up beside the parkway to illuminate the conveniently placed benches for the park goers. It looked comfortable, inviting him to stop … just for awhile, just for a night.
And what was one night to him?
He took another step, stumbling a bit and breaking the rhythm suddenly and violently in a crescendo of furious scraping rocks. For an instant, the loose hair tumbled from the vagabond’s face, revealing an eye much paler than its twin. Milky white, it seemed to be blind … and yet.
Quickly, the man moved towards the bench, restoring the rhythm and increasing it twofold until he reached his repose. A relieved sigh escaped his lips and he lowered himself down onto the hard wood and metal. It felt … good to sit after such a long time … a very long time.
The vagabond laid himself down on the park bench, rolling onto his side. He pulled his knees up, trying to fit as best as he could. It was too small for him to lie down properly, but it would keep him above the grass that would be undoubtedly dew-covered in the morning.
The rest felt good. He closed his eyes … and felt himself slipping, falling.
He twitched, half-asleep the instant his eyes shut, and felt himself roll backwards into … water?! He flailed and floundered momentarily managing to inhale and swallow more than a few mouthfuls of water before his head broke the surface. He choked and wretched up the water before hoisting himself out of what appeared to be … a fountain?
He shook his head slowly, dripping water from the hair matted in his face. He glanced around, confused. The city lights shone down around him like before. And yet, they were different. Different arrangements, different buildings … he frowned, knowing the most obvious answer to this most troubling question. He was in a different city.
How?
He frowned and picked himself up off of the pavement. He glanced around, shaking himself like a wet dog and spraying droplets all around him. There seemed to be no immediate danger, though it was hard to tell right now. And he had no idea how he got here.
He sighed. No more benches meant no more resting.
He rose to his feet, wearily and shoved his hands into his wet pockets before turning away from the massive fountain. It was time to move on … again.
Rating; PG-13 (swearing)
Characters;
hannin and anyone can join...Summary; A mysterious vagabond appears in the city. Lost, confused, and quite soaked through, he's looking for answers from anyone/anything that will tell him what the heck is going on here.
Log;
The sounds of footsteps echoed softly in the darkness, the slow and steady rhythm of worn shoes scrapping across decaying asphalt. In the far distance, the lights of the city shone down, twinkling like fallen stars through a thin veil of fog that was rising up from the warm pavement as the cool night air settled in. Buildings with tall spires rose up into the dim horizon, stabbing towards the black above the unnatural aura that clung to the skyscrapers from the lights of the city.
It looked almost supernatural. Or it would have, had he seen it.
But his gaze was locked on the dull gravel at his feet, winding across the grassy areas of the manmade park. He watched the frayed pant cuffs move back and forth. He watched way the light barely reflected from the shabby boots, recalling for only a brief moment a time when the shoes shone black in the night as they crossed countries. And he watched the tattered edges of the long coat twist and dance as he walked the night, recalling a time before when the clothe was dyed a rich black.
Once, years ago, the clothes had been new, pressed and taken care of. But it seemed only a blink of an eye. Now they were falling apart, as ragged and worn out as their wearer. The coat even the black leather boots were now faded the same dull gray as the long disheveled hair which fell in front of the man’s face.
He was tired. So very tired.
He was sick of walking, always on the move. He could not settle, but he did not think that he could go much further.
Finally, the man’s uncovered eye lifted, catching the light of a nearby streetlight set up beside the parkway to illuminate the conveniently placed benches for the park goers. It looked comfortable, inviting him to stop … just for awhile, just for a night.
And what was one night to him?
He took another step, stumbling a bit and breaking the rhythm suddenly and violently in a crescendo of furious scraping rocks. For an instant, the loose hair tumbled from the vagabond’s face, revealing an eye much paler than its twin. Milky white, it seemed to be blind … and yet.
Quickly, the man moved towards the bench, restoring the rhythm and increasing it twofold until he reached his repose. A relieved sigh escaped his lips and he lowered himself down onto the hard wood and metal. It felt … good to sit after such a long time … a very long time.
The vagabond laid himself down on the park bench, rolling onto his side. He pulled his knees up, trying to fit as best as he could. It was too small for him to lie down properly, but it would keep him above the grass that would be undoubtedly dew-covered in the morning.
The rest felt good. He closed his eyes … and felt himself slipping, falling.
He twitched, half-asleep the instant his eyes shut, and felt himself roll backwards into … water?! He flailed and floundered momentarily managing to inhale and swallow more than a few mouthfuls of water before his head broke the surface. He choked and wretched up the water before hoisting himself out of what appeared to be … a fountain?
He shook his head slowly, dripping water from the hair matted in his face. He glanced around, confused. The city lights shone down around him like before. And yet, they were different. Different arrangements, different buildings … he frowned, knowing the most obvious answer to this most troubling question. He was in a different city.
How?
He frowned and picked himself up off of the pavement. He glanced around, shaking himself like a wet dog and spraying droplets all around him. There seemed to be no immediate danger, though it was hard to tell right now. And he had no idea how he got here.
He sighed. No more benches meant no more resting.
He rose to his feet, wearily and shoved his hands into his wet pockets before turning away from the massive fountain. It was time to move on … again.
no subject
Where am I? Why am I here? What is this place?
The thoughts echoed through his mind, dimly. First and foremost he needed to scout this place for oddities. His eyes darted around the area around the fountain. He moved slowly, as if he was simply regarding the curious architecture of the surrounding buildings. He walked all of the way around the fountain.
This place, he concluded very quickly, makes no sense ...
Strange sensations tickled the back of his “blind” eye, leaving everything fuzzy and lost in a blur of milky white after images if he moved the orb at all. It actually caused him pain. More than that, it was making him dizzy.
He stumbled back towards the fountain and, ignoring the misting water that sprayed out from the jets that arched high in the air and only adding to the continuously falling water, he collapsed against the stone side of the fountain with a slight groan. He dropped his face into his hand and covered the eye. That seemed to help a bit. The throbbing pain eased, though it did not end.
He sighed, fumbled in the pockets of the soggy coat. The eye patch he occasionally kept was missing. Perhaps it had fallen out when he fell in the fountain, or maybe someone had lifted it the other night when he had slept under the overpass. Whatever the case, it would need replacing. Maybe there was a place he could find a job or some money?
He patted down his other pockets, fishing out a variety of objects that he carried. There was a small pocket watch, dog tags, a few pins, some metals, a dog-eared brown leather wallet with some coins and several old photographs. Very little of the objects would be worth anything. There was also a small key marked with the number four. That meant that it was back in the city he had been, not here. How many nights until you show up again?
He stood up, though his knees threatened to buckle under the strain of nausea, his eyes scanned the area around the fountain. Perhaps someone here could point him in the direction of a local marketplace?