revivalproject | Adventure Around Every Corner

Entry tags:

Adventure Around Every Corner

WHO: Marc Spector/Steven Grant and open!
WHERE: Sh'Ka
WHAT: Trying to find useful things without raising too many questions
WHEN: Now
WARNINGS: N/A
NOTES: All options start with Marc but are open to switch off with Steven depending how things progress.

I. General Area
Sh'Ka was quiet. Not that Temba wasn't quiet, but this was...well, it was certainly more obvious that the place wasn't as inhabited, even by the sparse population listed on the directory. Marc was feeling that it was less and less of a good idea to have come out this way. Sure, he wasn't absolutely trusting of everyone there but at least it was a known territory, and if anything were to happen, it'd likely be there in Temba. Not so much here, even with the subtle signs that at least some work had been attempted at restoration.

"I dunno, maybe this wasn't such a great idea," he started to say as he walked along, fingers flexing at his side as he wished they'd have obtained some kind of weapon by now, a knife or a firearm, the latter of which he preferred didn't require instructions being downloaded directly into your head. He had enough problems in that department.

The only thing keeping him from suggesting they take the train back was that it had already been a long ride out, and Marc wasn't looking forward to the return trip. "I'm not even sure what we're trying to look for, here," he muttered. He knew Steven couldn't readily respond, not without a reflection handy, but it was getting a little easier to be aware of what the other was doing, depending on who was in control. Knowing that Steven was with him still was a very minor comfort, at least.

II. Department Store
Magically produced clothes was good and all- okay, more than good, but technically there were two people to consider and not nearly enough options between them. Which, Marc supposed, was a good thing because then they wouldn't stir up too many questions when he decided to have some off-days with his fashion choices.

"This looks okay," he said as he held up some kind of jacket, eventually rolling it up and adding it to the bag he'd found to carry whatever useful things they came across. He continued along again, only glancing briefly at a partially shattered mirror that rested against a nearby column. "...wonder what they got by way of tools around here." An ax would come in handy, or a hatchet, although he had some doubts that he'd find anything of the sort as he sought out the appropriate area.

III. Corridor
Realizing that the city was a mirror-image of Temba by way of layout didn't really help when you weren't very familiar with Temba's layout as it was. Marc was beginning to see just how different Sh'Ka was as the greenery became denser and the roadway was barely discernable for how much nature had taken over. He was completely caught up in studying the overhead arches, barely noticeable beneath their green coverage, when he nearly fell as a section of the road gave way underfoot.

It was more of a sudden depression in the ground, and as Marc straightened his eyes widened slightly as he stared what was there before him. "Oh no..." They weren't just random impressions. They were tracks.

"I sure hope we don't find out whatever made those."

A rustling beyond the trees drew his attention then, every muscle tensing in preparation to run.

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

There's a metallic clattering noise from the area in question as Marc approaches. The source is, of course, Dustin - a slight figure, made smaller by the fact that he's hunched over the bottom shelf in this isle next to a pilfered backpack that's nearly half his size, sliding boxes of nails into it with the urgency of someone who really doesn't want to be here right now. He'd decided to leave when he heard someone talking elsewhere in the abandoned department store a few minutes ago, but couldn't stand to abandon all of the excellent supplies waiting here. What if Marc took all of them before he came back? Can't take that risk.

All for naught, though. He's been spotted. Dustin abruptly stands, hugging his newly-acquired and already very full backpack to his chest protectively, shielding it from--

--Well, he's assuming this is Steven. That's what his entry says in the Agrii's 'Dictionary,' anyway, and they haven't been wrong yet. Regardless, Dustin narrows his eyes at the man with naked suspicion.

"What are you doing here?" Probably the same thing he's doing, based on the bag Marc's carrying, but it can't hurt to hear what his answer is.

The noise instantly puts Marc on edge, not that he hasn't been on his guard already. Quiet places could be deceptive, and here his point was rather confirmed. Seeing that it's some kid looking for all the world like a thief caught redhanded, he chuffs a half-laugh that helps expel at least some of his tension.

"Shopping," he replies dryly, flicking a quick look around at the surrounding area, for anything useful, for possible ambush- who knows anymore. "Any good deals? Surprised the place hasn't been picked clean yet." He has a bit of a Chicagoan accent, although his casualness doesn't quite mask his cautiousness as he leans to look down the next aisle over.

Marc's levity doesn't seem to be doing Dustin any favors, especially because he picks up on how the man's body language mirrors his own. Unconsciously his eyes follow Marc's, quietly observing if he's focusing on anything in particular. Doesn't seem to be the case, though. Could be a paranoid bastard like you, Dustin considers. Does that make it any better?

No, it doesn't. "Just the usual five-finger discount," he says, shoulders hunching slightly as he takes a careful step back, maintaining distance between himself and this stranger. Simultaneously, Dustin is closing up his backpack and shouldering it - getting ready to run if he needs to. "Haven't met anyone that cares enough to set a different price. Including the suppliers."

Distracted as Marc looks to be, eyes never in one place as he scans the goods available, he's keeping track of Dustin too. He'll let the kid have his space, he can tell there's a familiar anxiety there, kept in check by a few witty remarks. Kid's too young to be as uptight as Marc is, but it's likely he'd had his own Experiences. That's unfortunate, whatever they were.

"Yeah, well that works out fine for us. Don't gotta deal with price matching," he says, stepping over to pick up some kind of flimsy rod although he can't be sure if it's for fishing or tent supports. He wiggles it around before setting it back. Not something he really needs.

He eventually moves into the next aisle over, adjusting his own bag as he pokes through a box of what looks to be chisels. Huh. Well, makes sense considering all the stonework around. Marc picks one up, hefting it in his hand to get a feel for the weight.

Dustin grunts his approval but otherwise doesn't react, tracking Marc's haphazard searching of the messy shelves with his eyes.

Doesn't seem especially interested in me - not any more than I am of him. I could just...leave. He watches as Marc wanders his way to the next isle. The idea is quickly dismissed; Dustin can't let this man out of his sight until he either leaves on his own accord, or he becomes trustworthy enough for Dustin to turn his back on him. Since Marc looks like he's going to stay here for a while and Dustin trusts him about as far as he could throw him, that makes this decision easy.

So the teenager follows Marc silently for a bit, lurking about six feet behind him while still making a point to stay out of his blind spot. He wants this guy to know he's being monitored. Eventually, though, his curiosity gets the better of him.

"Looking for anything specific?"

Marc sure as hell isn't going to clear out just because some kid's paranoid of him. He can understand not wanting to let him out of his sight, but it's a bit much. Still, Marc goes about his business. He packs away a few chisels, raising his head to look at the other things as he slowly gets up. The shelves here aren't aren't very tall, easy to see over. Weird.

"Things that'll be useful. You see any rope around here?" He's already looking even as he asks, not completely devoted to the conversation. If the kid wants something he'll have to come out and ask it, but it doesn't mean Marc has to stand around waiting for him. He picks up a hammer, brow knitting. Not exactly his ideal weapon but it probably goes with the chisels. He's not looking to do an art project here though, but all the same he tucks the hammer away as he wanders over to the next row.

"Five rows towards the front, far left column, top shelf, three bundles." The answer is automatic. Dustin does not mention that there used to be four bundles, except one is now safely tucked in his bag. Instead his eyes narrow at how Marc pauses with the hammer in his hand - the same way he assessed the chisel earlier. Not necessarily gauging them as just tools, he realizes. Definitely could be dangerous.

Unconsciously, Dustin lets a little more distance grow between them. "What do you want to use it for?"

"...." Marc slides a look back towards him at that, brow arching. He can guess that there might have been one more bundle of rope if the kid's that thorough, but it only makes sense. Rope's kind of a general thing to want to pick up. He nods, making a mental note. "Thanks."

That Dustin's spaced himself out from him isn't lost on him. Marc's not surprised. He'd rather encourage it. Never any good having people getting close to him. That's just old habit talking, he realizes. Khonshu's been cut off so he doesn't have to worry about that line of business, at least. Still... Marc's stuck here and still anxious to get back home.

"Probably not ideal for mountain climbing," he says with a shrug. "What else we got around here..." It's not really directed at Dustin specifically as he continues to wander. Screwdriver, a spanner...Steven had some decent ideas. He'd heard the Agrii had problems about weapons but the problem there really was that anything could be a weapon. "Sorry if I interrupted your looting. You're welcome to continue," he says, gesturing loosely with a hand as though to shoo the teenager off.

Dustin returns Marc's Look with one of his own, eyebrow quirked right back at him. Nothing unusual about having a good memory, right? Right. Not going to give Marc any other ideas, that's for sure.

Their tenuously neutral and evasive discourse, however, is starting to get on Dustin's nerves. It was nice while it lasted. "Glad to have your permission," he says, with a strain in his voice that betrays his fraying patience. Marc's casually dismissive gesture doesn't help. "--You didn't answer my question. What's your plan?"

Nothing unusual at all. Useful, but Marc's not going to exploit the kid on that. But it's something he'll keep in mind in case something might come up.

"Maybe there is no plan. Or maybe I don't feel like answering questions," he says casually as he stops to brush a hand through an assortment of brooms. He pulls one out, studying it as he grips it in both hands. Not terribly ideal for a staff, but it could have its uses. He turns the broom upside-down to see how easy it is to remove the head.

Dustin considers the idea of scuttling around Marc and getting in front of him - not necessarily getting in his space, rather, by making himself an obstacle that's more difficult to ignore - but he dismisses it. These isles are a bit thin and Marc is casually armed. Dustin doesn't want to do something that might set the man off, like brushing past him or blocking his way. He'll have to settle for being an annoyance instead.

"Right," the boy huffs, folding his arms. "Listen, Steven. Either there's someone threatening you enough to make you want to pick up every improvised weapon in this trash heap, or you're planning on being that threat to someone else. Which is it?"

There's no pause to consider if 'Steven' is the correct name to use here; Dustin gives it with absolute confidence and no pause for breath. Why would he have any reason to doubt it, anyway?

Being called 'Steven' has the man pause, a brow lifting although he doesn't look over at Dustin. There aren't any reflective surfaces handy or he'd consult his inner self, but he's pretty sure Steven hasn't met this kid before either. Finally he snorts, resuming his task. Okay, so this kid's good with his memory and has done some homework on who all else is here. What's his angle? Or is he just as paranoid? Well, the latter was obvious.

Deciding he'll just have to break off the broom-head, Marc leaves it as is for the moment. He sets its bristly head down on the floor, shifting into a more casual position as he leans with it like he'd just finished sweeping. His eyes flick briefly at Dustin every now and then just to keep tabs, but he otherwise continues with his survey of things available.

"Those are very specific. How about the option where we're stuck on an alien planet and don't know what the hell else is out there, yeah?" he puts forth, leaning over to finger a package before letting it alone as it proves not to be within his interests. He refrains from mentioning being around people he doesn't know if he can trust- that must be an obvious point even to the kid, especially given the way he's been tailing him. "I don't know about you but I'd feel safer having at least something on hand. Around this city especially."

Who knows what's creeping around here, even longer abandoned than Temba?

"That's an easy excuse."

If Dustin noticed anything about Marc's reaction to being called the wrong name, he doesn't show it. Instead, he seems far more interested in periodically checking over his shoulders, just in case his attention on this shifty man has invited someone even worse to sneak up on both of them. Their conversation turning towards the unknowns of this alien planet does absolutely nothing to help with that growing sense of nervousness.

"Anyone can play the self-defense card. Besides, you really think a chisel and a hammer will give you a fighting chance against whatever big fucker left those footprints out there?" Dustin lets out a huff of contemptuous laughter. "Or, what--you're gonna tie it up with that rope? Don't be stupid."

Marc turns a look directly at Dustin. "Better than nothin'," he says, shrugging. "I'd prefer something with a blade, but stonework seems more the local preference here." He snorts again as he moves some small boxes around.

"Rope's for climbing. Chisel could work too. Use your imagination, kid." The place so far looks to be lacking in crampons, but maybe he'll have better luck where the rope is. It's a tentative optimism there. He starts towards the area Dustin had mentioned, broom resting against his shoulder, backpack slung over the other.

Dustin meet's Marc's glance with an incredulous look, and continues to study the back of his head intently even after he turns away. The casual indifference, haphazardly shuffling around materials...

He really doesn't have a plan at all, does he? Probably should've been obvious from the start, but Dustin can't help but assume the worst in people, especially the shiftier ones among them. Having assessed otherwise does not make Marc seem like any less of a threat, however; the man is still fundamentally unpredictable which, by Dustin's estimation, is almost worse than if he was actively plotting to hurt someone.

Still, he doesn't need to continue wasting his time grilling Marc for information he almost certainly doesn't have. "Rope for climbing? Genius," Dustin quips instead - an attempt to deflect away from the growing sense of worry that he has for Marc's flippancy, though it ultimately doesn't work. "Your sense of improvisation is truly inspired. It could also break your neck. I hope you're not serious about the chisel--you could do better."

Marc would honestly rather not harm anyone, but it was unfortunately something he'd become good at. He's almost relieved that the teenager keeps his distance- but the kid seems to be just as cautious if not more so than himself that he doesn't worry too much about getting close.

That's no way for a kid to live and he knows it, but in his own opinion Marc's the last person anyone should trust. There must be better people around here to look after paranoid kids.

"Great. Thanks," he says almost dismissively, maybe a little annoyed at the sarcasm. "Still shopping around."

"You're not gonna find anything better than that rope," Dustin continues, apparently oblivious to the irritation his previous comment has caused his new unwilling companion. He's also starting to pay more attention to the items Marc is discarding, glancing at them periodically to assess if they're something he wants to take instead. Nothing yet; on a different day Dustin might have been happy to take all of it, but today his backpack is already almost full and he doesn't want to have to make too many trips back and forth on the train. Unfortunately he needs to be a little picky.

"Unless there's some carabiners and belays in the last few rows, which seems unlikely. Mostly scraps here." Dustin pauses in consideration. "Wouldn't be too hard to make, though."

That's the same sort of thought Marc's running by. He can carry a pretty good load but he doesn't want to be caught compromised if he runs into trouble in unfamiliar territory. Given things look to be pretty lightly picked around here, he's not too worried that things would suddenly be in short supply any time soon if he had to suffer another train ride.

"Probably," the man concedes, holding back a sigh. There doesn't seem to be very much reason for proper climbing equipment around here. "Guess no one around here figured things would break down enough that you'd need to find other means than stairs to look around." He pauses, looking back over at Dustin then. "Yeah? ...guess there's always room for improvisation."

Dustin shakes his head vigorously back at Marc. "Not improvisation," he says firmly, sounding a bit frustrated. "Improvisation is trying to climb the side of a building with a chisel. I'm talking about making a proper set of pitons."

...Which, honestly, there's not too much difference between the two save a carabiner connection point. That being said--

"I'd just need a welder," Dustin continues, like this is the simplest request in the world. "Although a weld joint is a point of failure, especially if we're establishing a common path. Better yet would be to take some of the scrap steel lying around, shape and temper it whole. A furnace for working steel isn't too much more difficult to achieve than a stick welder. Probably the better route here."

Marc nods like he's only half-listening, but Dustin's got his attention, even if his eyes are roving over more of the items strewn about the shelves he's by. "So you know metalworking," he observes absently. Not so strange a thing for a kid Dustin's age, he supposes. Then again Marc's open to a lot of things these days. Being the avatar of an Egyptian god kind of sets a high bar. Well, former avatar.

"There's a forge marked on the map for the main city," he says as he reaches out to take hold of a shovel. Probably would be a lot more useful than a broom.

Dustin does not directly confirm nor deny his presumed metalworking abilities. Surely his knowledge speaks for itself. The schematics for most of the things he's mentioned have long since been committed to memory, which should more than make up for the fact that he has never once actually worked a forge, or welded anything by hand. He's confident he can figure out the practical applications later.

Speaking of 'being practical,' here's an excellent example of how Dustin is not. "...Someone lives there," the boy mumbles, glancing away with a small frown.

Setting the broom down, Marc grips the shovel experimentally. Already he can tell it's more solid in construction, but that's no real shock. Definitely more useful.

"So ask if you can borrow it?" It seems a simple suggestion enough, but Marc can already tell that's not the case for Dustin. Truthfully he'd be wary about it too, but if he knew how to piece anything together and that was the only resource to do so, he'd look into it. "Could ask whoever's there if they can do the work themselves too- there's gotta be a reason they'd have chosen that place to shack up."

"Yeah, sure." A very simple suggestion indeed, but Dustin's tone is a lot more sarcastic than it should be for someone that actually considered 'asking to use someone's stuff' a viable solution to his problems. "Or maybe they're deliberately bottlenecking the supply of tools and product for their own gains. I'm not taking that risk - I'd rather spend more time and just make it myself."

Paranoia makes for an excellent excuse to lean on. Sounds a lot more convincing than the alternative, anyway, which is that Dustin is far too proud and full of anxiety to approach people for help.

That reasoning sounds a little weak even to Marc, but he won't discount the possibility completely. He shrugs. "Maybe. Sounds like something to look into, either way." He'll ask around. Or pay a direct visit. Direct is more his style anyway. He hasn't any immediate need for a forge, really, but if they're stuck here, it'd be nice to know what actually functioned.

He shoulders the shovel. "Risks are going to be everywhere around here, kid. You just gotta gauge which ones might be worthwhile. Although if we've got time to spare then there's probably not much hurt in working things out on you own. Still." He offers another shrug. "I got enough unknowns to worry about, I'd rather nail down the things I can in the meantime."

Turning, the man starts to resume his walk towards where Dustin had told him the rope would be.

Dustin takes a step to continue tailing Marc, but stops himself from going any further. He has determined that this man is not interested in doing anything deliberately harmful to himself or others, and aside from picking up and testing the weight of a few bludgeoning-type objects, has not acted in a way that is directly threatening. Does he really expect that to change any time soon? If anything, continuing the press the guy might make him snap. Speaking of gauging risks...

With that comforting thought in mind, Dustin shakes his head and, wordlessly, slips away behind the corner of the isle, leaving Marc to his business while he slinks for the store's exit. He's got a train to catch.

"Okay, I'll admit that's a good choice, yeah."

While Steven hated being stuck inside of the so-called headspace, he really had no choice in the matter when Marc at the helm. It also meant there wasn't much around to help him get through to the man while they were exploring Sh'Ka, forcing him to be the silent passenger along for the ride.

The department store had its share of mirrors, however, and he took advantage of it, reappearing as Marc began passing in front of one that was mostly intact.

"Maybe we can work in a few more shirts while we're at it? Or some trousers. Trousers will be good."

It wasn't something that could necessarily be helped, especially given how much 'drier' Sh'Ka was in comparison to Temba for the lack of repairs done to the waterworks. There weren't very many places to catch his reflection, so he didn't make too much of a fuss as Steven appeared to him here.

He opened his mouth to object before quietly relenting, offering a stiff nod. "...yeah. Yeah, okay, sure," he said, looking around at the piles of clothes, most of which appeared to already have been rummaged through. "Well, let's see what we got."

Marc picked up one shirt from the top of what probably had once been a neater pile, holding it up with a slight face. He started to set it aside, moving things around as he sorted through the garments.

Everything was far from ideal, but the least Steven could do was reluctantly cooperate. From the mirror, he leaned in a little as Marc rummaged, trying to peek over his shoulder from the angle he was affixed to.

"Yeah. Fine, that's fine," he commented, fidgeting as if he wanted to dig through it himself. A patch of color then caught his eye and he pointed. "-That one, try that one!"

"What, this one?" Marc stopped, glancing over his shoulder before patting about until he picked up the one Steven was eyeballing. "Really?"

The look he gave it was a dubious one, but he supposed he couldn't be all that surprised, given the times he'd found himself in Steven's wardrobe. He still didn't look completely sold as he turned to the mirror and reluctantly held it up in front of himself, one brow arching at his reflection.

Steven nodded vigorously, brushing his curly bangs away from his eyes. "Really. Let's give it a proper gander..." Unlike Marc, he took some time to scrutinize how it would look on them, turning this way and that like he was trying it on himself. The shirt didn't twist with him, but he didn't seem to mind in the moment.

"Yeah." His brow lifted. "We're taking it."

Looking back and forth between the shirt and Steven, Marc sucked in a breath, not quite sighing as he nodded, scrubbing a hand through his hair. "Okay, okay," he muttered, starting to wad up the shirt to throw in the bag before he thought better of it and attempted to fold it.

"You see anything else while we're at it?"

A quiet kind of delight was taken in the small victory of now owning an alien shirt. As Marc worked to fold the article of clothing, Steven wasted no time diving into another answer. "Ah, let's see...I think I see some pullovers back there. We'll also need shoes, undershirts and pants- " In the middle of pacing, he paused, blinking as he looked over again. "Oh. Did you mean, other than clothing? You were spouting off about finding tools somewhere in here - if there are any." He shrugged. "Maybe there may be something sharp and pointy for you to find if you go in more."

In spite of himself, Marc found himself laughing a bit, although it was more of stilted exhalation. It helped take the edge off of things a little. When was the last time he'd really laughed?

"Yeah, we'll get to that. Think we'll hold off on grabbing too much clothes just yet, but at least we know where to look." He stepped over towards another display of clothing, picking through the pants there before he tucked a pair into the bag. "I did have in mind something sharp and pointy," he nodded. "Wonder how well that'll go, but hey. You never know, right?"

Marc turned, looking towards the other roughly sectioned off areas for the most ideal place to hunt down tools.

Steven's mouth quirked, following along since he didn't have anywhere else to go. "At least these make sense. Better than the selection back at Temba." He pondered, wondering about the possible tools Marc would find as he glanced in the same direction. "A screwdriver," came his first thought after another couple of beats. "Or a hammer, if nothing pointy can be found. Although it'd still count! If it has the hooked back of the head thing."

His hands continued to form a loose shape of a hammer, making it more oblong. "Or a spanner? Spanners can be useful." Another beat. "Wait, why am I even contributing to this, that's all kinds of awful."

A half smile tugged at his lips then. "There's an idea..." He paused in front of another mirror, brow quirking at his reflection. "Don't let me rub off on you too much," he said, keeping his tone light even as he turned towards a promising looking aisle.

Please don't be like me, he thought. You're not supposed to be me.

"Hah. Not by a long shot," Steven sniffed, remaining oblivious to the true meaning of Marc's subtle concern. "I'd rather maintain the possibility of civilly talking things over. Like people ought to do. Instead of resorting to violence."

As he looked to Marc, his brow furrowed, wondering why he was taking his time. "Something the matter?"

"...no. No, just...thinking of what else we should be looking for while we're here. Make the most of this trip." Marc pushed back his feelings, trying to quash the annoyance and the slight sting that had stirred up from Steven's commentary.

"Least we know where to go if we need more clothes I guess," he said, gesturing back at the department they were starting to leave. "Just take a several hour train ride to nowheresville."

Steven nodded. "The only downside to it, really. Aren't there faster ways of getting around? Like...the ships." He perked up. "Can't we use them?"

"Probably need to download instructions," Marc said, tapping at the side of his head. It was obvious how he felt about that. "Guess we could always ask for a lift if anyone cared to play taxi, but otherwise I'm not sure how much faster. I mean, it should be if we're flying."

"Figures," Steven frowned, shoulders slumping as he crossed his arms. He knew how Marc felt about it. His feelings about downloading instructions into their brains were similar, after all. But his eyes light up again at that. "It'd be worth a try, yeah? See who's up for traveling, maybe ask if they also do return trips..."

Marc looked less enthused about the idea, but then he wasn't sure how many people could be trusted around here, cautious by nature. "Yeah..." he said carefully, a reluctant agreement.

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

Adventure Around Every Corner

II

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

II

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject