revivalproject | [open] death made visible

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[open] death made visible

WHO: Kuchiki Rukia, open to all!
WHERE: around Tembra
WHAT: help the newb
WHEN: January
WARNINGS: none at this time

One would have expected Rukia to have learned a lesson or two about approaching glowing orbs. Especially absent the understanding of how she came to this place to begin with — a place more sparsely populated than the endless dunes of Hueco Mundo, in spite of its endless flora, inviting in its vibrancy. Some of her closest companions might have been the type to grab at it immediately, preferring to keep any danger in their possession and grasp rather than leave it to their enemies for the taking, but Rukia isn't normally so foolish. Too many lessons learned the hard way.

Still, as her mind and pulse alike race — Where is she? Where are the others? Why can't she feel the spiritual pressure of any of her comrades? Is Ichigo safe? — Rukia blinks, suddenly finding her fingers wrapped around the smooth, cool surface of the orb.

Everything changes.

Rukia staggers away from the orb with a stuttered breath, eyes roving in every direction as her hands return to the place they belong, tight around hilt and scabbard. She's been given an explanation, knowledge settled neatly in every corner of her memory, synapses firing in new directions. But Rukia has long since learned that reality has a way of being distorted.

With a distant drip of water ringing in her ears, Rukia pulls her lower lip between her teeth, worrying at the skin as she turns to head in the direction of the nearest spiritual energy she can sense.

[ Have a handy link for Rukia's current physical appearance. Feel free to hit me up on Rukia's Permissions Page with any questions or if you want to propose something specific for her interaction with your character! ]

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Even having lived out in the middle of nowhere away from the hustle and bustle of a busy place like New York City, being in a place so completely cut off from anything has just been...strange. It just seems like it's taken a while to actually sink in for Raphael, now that things have calmed down long enough to get an idea of what it's really like in a largely abandoned, ruined city.

The buildings around the place are either too widely spread out, damaged or of too varying heights for a proper rooftop run, but the turtle teen still prefers to be up somewhere with a view when he's left to his own thoughts. Leaning over the edge of Civic Center's roof, Raphael looks down at the empty square with a sigh that he cuts short as he realizes it's not completely empty at all.

"Huh?" He squints at the figure in black. With how few an amount of people there are around, it's not difficult to pick out a new face, especially not someone wearing Japanese attire.

Being part of the Kuchiki house comes with certain expectations. It would be unbecoming if Rukia were to be swayed by any little surprise that comes her way. It's one thing to be adaptable — a trait that comes part and parcel with being part of the military — and another entirely to handle matters with grace. That expectation, more than anything else, helps keep Rukia's reaction relatively muted as her eyes register a turtle hybrid in her path.

Her eyes widen for a second before she tilts her head in acknowledgment. Based on the information provided earlier by the orb, this individual doesn't look like a native of the planet. But she doesn't have any other point of reference to place them either.

Rukia's stance remains grounded as she forces her shoulders to relax. The last thing that she wants is to put this creature on the defensive in surroundings as unfamiliar as these.

"Are you a native of this land?" she asks, tone kept carefully neutral.

Yep. Definitely new. Raphael's actually impressed by her reaction to him, or lack thereof. It sure beats screaming or any amount of strange looks, but then that's been one of the upsides being here. No one's completely freaked out upon seeing him.

Still, her question does have him arching a brow. "Do I look pink with three eyes and fangs?" he replies, but then he has to consider just how much info had been given the first time he'd showed up. Folding his arms, he shakes his head. "I was brought here same as you. I think that's gonna be the story for anyone you see around here. The Agrii don't come planetside, not with the storms and stuff."

A slight flush rises on Rukia's cheeks in response to the turtle's wry words. She could easily counter with the fact that she's only just arrived — but to give up that information would only be exposing her weaknesses, and as her brother would note, a change in paradigm doesn't excuse a lack of logic. More importantly, nothing in the stranger's initial countenance suggests that they're hostile.

So she stamps down the humiliation, lowering her chin just a touch.

"It would be naïve of me to take everything that was shared with me at face value," Rukia replies. She nearly shifts to match the stranger's pose, pausing only when she realizes doing so would forfeit her hold on her sword. "Do you know how we were brought here? Has anyone been successful at making contact beyond the planet?"

The turtle shrugs at that. "Fair enough," he says. His green eyes flick towards the sword at her waist, briefly as he sizes her up. She's not that much shorter than him, and given her caution he can tell the weapon's not just for show.

"Not really. I mean, I'm guessing it's some kind of weird alien tech thing. As for your other question, I guess technically we have? Not that it's done much good, but if nothing else, it's proven the Agrii are real and not just some story."

"Meaning you've contacted... the Agrii?" Rukia asks, hazarding a guess. As a newly arrived stranger, she supposes it can't be helped that everything is being explained in broad strokes, but still the frustration grates. Weird alien tech thing doesn't get her any closer to an answer about motivation, about the strength of her captors—

—though it does carry a degree of acceptance. One that Rukia's not willing to adopt just yet.

Noting the stranger's glance towards her sword, Rukia silently releases her hold, having increased her confidence that whatever their true motivation might be, a direct attack probably isn't on the top of their agenda. She rustles around in her pockets, unearthing the device she found upon her arrival. It looks not unlike one of the cell phones she'd grown accustomed to in the Living World, though she hasn't taken much time yet to play around with the device. (She'd found cell phones to be quite the headache.)

"Can't help but feel like everything is set up to make pawns of arrivals," Rukia mutters, turning the device over in her hands.

To be fair, Raphael's not exactly a prime choice for offering explanations. He'd come fresh from a space experience of his own before being plopped into the Agrii mess, so weird alien tech about covered anything he couldn't specifically explain, so far as he was concerned.

If she'd gotten a headache with cellphones, she'd have even worse working her way around the Agrii's communication tablet. Their pictographs don't really help much, but even worse is their grasp of actual language any of them can understand. Raphael nods at the thing once the girl digs it out.

"Oh, I wouldn't be surprised if everything was a set-up here. The problem is I don't know who to punch in the face to fix it." He nods at the tablet. "You can contact anyone else here through that. I think supposedly you can do so to the Agrii too, but I haven't seen anything since the emergency message from however long ago."

At the mention of punching someone — or something — in the face, Rukia's expression cracks for the first time, a small grin passing over her lips. The statement is so blunt and direct that she can't help but think of her comrades back home. Her chest aches at the thought that Ichigo, however willing and eager he might otherwise be, wouldn't be so much of a help in situations like this anymore.

(But that's a good thing, she reminds herself. He deserves the rest. He deserves normalcy.)

With a small huff, Rukia turns her attention back to the device, frowning at the symbols and nearly indecipherable language. "Are there many of us here?" Rukia asks, tone slightly hesitant. "Have all the outsiders formed a working group?"

Seeing that grin, no matter how brief, does make Raphael ease up a bit himself. At least she didn't laugh at him or look at him funny.

"Eh, there's a bunch of humans and some robot guy. Little more than...twenty, maybe?" he guesses, squinting as he tries to do some quick math. "We all pretty much know we needa look out for each other and work with everyone else if we wanna get through this, so that's not a problem at least."

"Twenty?" Rukia asks, expression taken aback. Never has she found herself in any realm, apart from the space between worlds, that is so sparsely populated. Twenty seems hardly enough to keep everyone fed and safe, surviving from day to day, let alone capable of devoting any energy towards helping the former natives of the planet find a way to reinhabit their home.

Cheeks colored over her outburst, Rukia lets out a slow exhale. "Have you and the robot been the only non-humans here?" she asks, keeping the question relatively vague. There seem to be at least a few individuals with interesting spiritual energies, but Rukia wouldn't be surprised if they kept the true nature of their identities a secret. A beat later, she adds. "Sorry for all the questions."

Raphael smirks a bit, shaking his head. "Eh, don't worry about it. That's about the norm for anyone who's just got here. And hey, at least people are here at all. When I showed up, no one was around at all because they were all in some underground tunnel or something. And if you arrived like...man, I don't even know how long it's been now- a month? Two? We would've all been in space."

He scratches his head. "Anyway, so far as I know? Yeah, that's about it. Oh, and a catgirl. I mean, she's more human than I am but she's got like...the ears and the tail. And claws."

Rukia's eyes widen, trying to imagine arriving on a fully deserted planet. As strange as it might have been to run across a stranger so willing to disseminate information, Rukia can only imagine how much worse it would have felt to have shown up alone, with only a dubious orb to rely on for information. She shakes her head, as though to physically push away the thought.

"Yes, I... will consider myself lucky, then. As lucky as someone can be when dropped suddenly on a different planet," Rukia huffs, allowing herself a small grin. "Do you have any regular meetings? I'd like — I'd like to be useful to the group, as long as I'm trapped here."

That's a point Raphael has to agree on. He's not sure how the multiversal lottery works here, or at least the Agrii's requirements for pulling someone they deem a 'he row' to help them in their plight.

"Meetings? Not really. Guess I could see how something like that might be good now and then. Touch base and all that. I don't think there are too many set tasks around? Some guy's been working on planning for fixing up the city, other people deal with the food stuff. There's a sad little library. I dunno, I think any effort you put into things will be welcome."

After having spent years chasing after Aizen, to find herself in a place with no set goals and a lack of coordination leaves Rukia feeling unmoored. It's not that she's a stickler for plans — if anything, sometimes the existence of a plan seems to serve the purpose of breaking from expectations — but it feels a little like coming to a sudden halt in the midst of a marathon.

What's her purpose here? Should she focus on finding a way to leave?

Should she try to help those stranded on the planet?

"I suppose I'll scour the area and see what I can learn," she muses in an undertone, before raising her gaze to meet the turtle's. "Ah, I never introduced myself," she stammers, briefly bringing a hand to her chest. "My name is Kuchiki Rukia."

If he's taken notice of Rukia's uncertainty for the lack of direction given towards any specific tasks, Raphael says nothing about it. All he really wants to do is go back home to his brothers and his father. If helping these Agrii guys gets it done, he'll stick it out, and doing that means supporting the other people around here. He's no good at figuring out technical things, but survival's something he's familiar with.

"Huh? Oh, that's right..." The turtle scratches the back of his head sheepishly before he gives a nod at her. "Name's Raphael. Uh...Hamato Raphael," he adds.

"Hamato-san, it's nice to meet you," Rukia replies immediately, bowing her head. Although Raphael hasn't yet offered much information about himself or his background, there's a certain straightforwardness in his character that Rukia appreciates. Focusing on what's directly at hand helps to distance herself from the unease — a little trick she picked up from Ichigo.

With a quick exhale, Rukia lifts her chin and grins. "Anything you've been working on? I might look small, but I can carry more than my fair share."

"Likewise. You can just call me Raphael." Hardly anyone bothered to use full names for them that he's not used to being called by clan name. It'd just throw him off.

He laughs a little at Rukia's eagerness to do something, not that he can blame her. "I'll bet that sword's more than just for show too," he grins back. "If you ever need a sparring partner, I'm always up for some practice with my sai. As for general work... really wasn't up to much at the moment. Guess there's always stuff to clear out or move though."

"I know my way around it," Rukia admits, a soft pride pulling her shoulders straight as she pats her hilt with a hand. There were many years where she felt lacking, never quite meeting the high standards of her house — but with the pivotal role that she was able to help play as they brought Aizen to justice, Rukia understands now that one's usefulness can't be measured in exams or strength alone. Everyone has a part to play.

Maybe that same truth will hold here in Temba.

"I don't think I've sparred against someone wielding sai for some time, but it sounds like a fun challenge, Raphael-san," Rukia grins, before quickly holding up her hands. "Ah, don't let me pull you into work if you were relaxing. I don't want to be a burden. You've already been very generous with your time."

Satisfied at the response in regards to sparring, Raphael nods before he blinks and then shrugs at the latter. "Eh, don't worry about it. Wasn't really relaxing. Just had a lot on my mind."

It was kind of nice having the interruption. His thoughts usually turn towards home, so he's always glad for a distraction. "I'm sure you'll find someone who's got something to do though. Everyone's pretty cool so if you have any more questions, people will try to answer 'em."

With the former library being right at the center of the town and Jon having come to spent a lot of time within the building again, it's hardly a surprise that her steps carry her into the at least somewhat restored structure. She is met with a large hall, filled with large, mainly empty shelves. A total of two books can be found on them and one shelf is filled with notebooks and cassette tapes. There are reasons why the Archivist refuses to call the place a library any longer. As for the man himself, he is busy at what appears to have been a collapsed entryway to either a different room or even one of the nearby buildings.

The tool he is using for the task isn't necessarily a usual one. It's a heavy-looking metal gauntlet on his right arm and hand. As long as Tony is fine with him using it, Jon will be using it to slowly and meticulously blast his way through the rubble still clustering big parts of the former library's main building.

No blasting is happening when Rukia enters, at least. Jon rather pauses and turns around, greeting the young woman with a surprised look, not missing her attire - And the part where she is carrying a weapon. "Oh, hello." He greets, offering a smile, sparing both of them the obvious question of whether or not she has just arrived in the city. He also makes a point to not outright ask her any questions to hopefully avoid any potential compulsion. "I have some tea ready if you would like some."

Since arriving on the planet, Rukia has tried a number of methods to make her way back to the city of Karakura. The most obvious tactic was to use her sword, attempting to unlock passage to Soul Society, from where she would easily be able to open a path back to the Living World. Unfortunately, no matter how many attempts she made, the senkaimon gates would not open for her. Ascending high in the atmosphere came with its own dangers, and ventures out into the wilderness proved unfruitful — both were tempered by some type of draw back to the main city. Rukia still hasn't decided whether to believe it to be some type of spiritual force, or if her own fear has sunk more deeply than she'd like to believe.

It's one thing for someone of great strength to corner and trap her in a realm. It's another entirely for the captor to feel faceless. Absent.

With some reluctance, Rukia makes her way into a large building, squinting slightly as she adjusts to the lighting inside. The shelves stood around its perimeter seem to suggest some type of library or archive, though like everything else in the city, it feels mostly abandoned and fallen into disrepair. By one of the entryways stands a man, thin of build and average in stature. There's something unusual about his spiritual pressure, though Rukia can't quite pinpoint what — enough, however, to keep her hand close to the hilt of her sword.

Surprise registers on his face, but fades quickly into a smile. Rukia blinks in turn at his offer. "Ah, hello," she replies, bowing her head politely. She's easily reminded of another man — a little taller, paler. But the similarities are enough that her lips tentatively curve in response. "I didn't mean to intrude."

Shaking his head, Jon turns towards his visitor, keeping the gloved hand in front of him and supported with his free hand. "That's fine. Still used to be a public building and while I- Well. Sort of live here, I suppose? - Any of my possessions aren't kept in the open areas. And those may serve as shelter for some of the storms." At least that's the goal.

Releasing his own hand, he gestures for Rukia to follow him inside. "Jonathan Sims. Or just Jon. I've been-" A pause. Which is followed by a surprised expression. "... Christ. It's almost a year since I've been brought here, I believe!" But without a way to properly measure time, that's hard to tell. "I mean, it... It's been some time already. I should be able to answer most of your questions."

With his friendly demeanor unabating, Rukia can't help but bow again in gratitude and deference alike. She's not completely naïve, but so far nothing that she has encountered seems to contradict the core truth that many of them have been brought to this place without prior knowledge and against their will. Even if personalities and desires conflict, there's good reason to believe that all of them should be allied in the desire to survive, and potentially make it back to their respective homes.

Rukia follows Jon's lead, up until she finally processes the latter part of his statement. "A year?" Rukia exclaims, clamping her mouth shut when her voice echoes slightly through the hall. Oops. Cringing, Rukia takes a breath. "I-I mean, it's a pleasure to make your acquaintance, Sims-san, I — my name is Kuchiki Rukia."

At a loss, Rukia shakes her head. When she speaks again, her voice is lower still. "I can't afford to stay here for a year."

Jon leads Rukia to a small corner near the entrance into the main library hall where a couple of mismatched chairs and crates are set up to create a decent little spot to sit. He picks up a thermos flask from a nearby shelf along with a new clean mug which he sets down on the makeshift table where a different, an already used mug already sits. Listening to her introduction, he fills both mugs with some hot tea before offering the new mug to Rukia.

"Well, time is hard to track here, but, yes. I believe it may around a year. And I- W-well... I... May be needed back on my Earth myself, but-" And he pauses for a shrug, setting the thermos down to pick up his own mug. "Time... Stops? While we're here. No one knows how or why, but it does. Sometimes people come from the same world but entirely different times. People have returned to their home world and came back and reportedly they were returned exactly to the place and time they had been taken from."

He pauses for a moment, then adds, careful to not outright ask, "You are from Japan, if I'm not mistaken."

Rukia's gaze softens as she takes in the sight of mismatched furniture and repurposed crates. Decades ago, she had lived in a similar manner, scrounging for whatever scraps she could, occupying abandoned buildings. To say that she misses it would be an overstatement — too many days spent hungry, sometimes too weak to move — but there was a certain kind of freedom that came from being a person of no consequence. She smiles, slightly tight-lipped as she accepts the mug with another bow.

The warmth from the mug spreads quickly, settling deep in her chest. It helps to keep the anxiety at bay, little more than a gentle thud in her ear.

"Ah, yes, I suppose you could say that I'm from Japan," Rukia nods, subconsciously drawing herself closer to the mug. "Not originally. But that's where I was living last." Not a lie, though not the complete truth. Idly, Rukia wonders if there's anyone in the population who knows of Soul Society. She hasn't detected any other shinigami, but the fact that Jon is able to cite Japan suggests that there is overlap in the worlds they know.

After a small sip of the tea, Rukia smooths her thumb over the surface of the mug, gaze dropping to the surface of the liquid. "Time stops," she murmurs softly, letting Jon's knowledge sink in. She's known this phenomenon to be possible in dimensions between the worlds, though she's never heard of anyone choosing to live in such a place. Pausing time usually has its consequences. "I see. You mean in the sense that the way that we experience time here doesn't flow at the same pace as our home—" Rukia pauses, searching for the right word. "—worlds? But then, the way that we age, does that stay with people when they return?"

"Time stops, yes." Jon nods, then shrugs. "But I wouldn't be able to tell for sure how age works here. Not enough data so far, but- One of us went back home not too long ago. He was gone only a couple of days. When he returned, however, he was years older." Which is still something Jon finds himself puzzling about. "we now have a pair of twins here that are years apart in regards of age."

He moves to sit on one of the chairs, leaving it to Rukia to decide whether she wishes to join him. "A lot of us have urgent matters waiting for them back home. Christ, quite a lot are actual super heroes, wielding magic or are born with incredible super powers." Jon's words trail off for a moment. Wouldn't it be great to bring a few of them to his own doomed Earth? They would have more of an idea about how to prevent it getting pushed from one apocalypse to the next.

But this isn't the time to dwell on that.

"Anyway. Ah- I suppose you may want to know where you can find shelter and food. For the first, there is the hotel for example. It's across the central square and has a few perfectly usable rooms. The diner is near it. Tommy runs it. Most of the food is grown in the agriculture building."

"Ah, thank you," Rukia mumbles, bowing her head again and quickly taking a seat on another of the chairs. Perhaps her current situation isn't the most surprising out of everything she's experienced in life so far, but the impulse to pay deference to a stranger is. Still, there's something calming about Jon, in his gentle demeanor and unassuming words. He has no obligation to be as helpful as he's been, offering knowledge without being prompted.

It has the dual effect of settling Rukia into the mindset of expecting to remain on this planet for some time, shoulders hunching slightly with the weight.

"For both offering me a seat and for... well, helping me to learn more about this place. For sharing the practical knowledge I need to have," Rukia continues, words becoming clearer as she goes on. "I guess I — what I still don't understand. How are you so at peace with the situation? It seems strange to settle in captivity. No matter how honest our captors may be."

He chuckles softly, then looks over to the empty shelves. "I suppose that is because for once I... I am happy?" He turns his attention back towards her and his expression turns bleak. "The Earth I come from is not in a good place. And most people aren't even aware of it. But... I know what's going on, unfortunately. But as long as I am here, I can... Live a comparably normal life. And with time not moving forward while I am gone, neither of my friends will be harmed in my absence either." No one hunting him, no one trying to kidnap or murder him. It's nice.

Turning his attention back to Rukia, Jon nods down towards his right hand as he turns the imp around to show her the large burn scar covering most of it, then raises the same hand up to indicate the scar across his neck and from there one up along his pockmark-littered face. "Also... I have been in worse captivity than this."

It isn't uncommon for shinigami to carry scars. Some wear them as badges of honor, some can't be assed to get them healed, others still don't make it to the medics on time. Rukia's own body belies her experience. Subconsciously, she raises a hand to her chest, slightly above her heart. No physical scar remains, but perhaps the expression on her face mirrors Jon's own, lips pressed thin.

"I see," she murmurs, gaze carefully tracing over the scars and marks. The way they're shaped doesn't much resemble the look of injuries sustained in outright battle. "I did not mean to cast judgment on your reasons for being content here. Whether it be war or plague that engulfs your world, I'm sure it's exhausting. To have a reprieve, however given, can be a blessing."

She pauses, hesitating over her next words. "Perhaps being here will also help you find a way to enlist assistance for your home."

"I would like that." Jon simply agrees, even offering a little smile again. He hasn't missed the motion of Rukia's hand. It's obvious that she has a story of her own. A story he would like to hear, obviously, but there is no way he will risk trapping someone in one of his perpetual nightmares again.

Instead, he offers, "I can tell you more about it at another time if you like. Once you have settled in and gotten to know more of those residing in this place. Focusing on that first seems only reasonable."

"A-ah, yes," Rukia stammers, blush suddenly high on her cheeks as she stares resolutely into her mug. It wasn't her intention to pry, though she can't deny the curiosity. She's always enjoyed exploring new places, and while she can't always do so with as much enthusiasm as she did in her youth, getting to know people has always been a joy to her as well. Still, in retrospect, perhaps she shouldn't have stared. Perhaps she shouldn't have inquired after Jon's home.

To ask, even with only a gaze, is to tread upon another person's heart. Hard to do so without leaving tracks.

"I have thought about seeking every individual out, though it feels — almost forced?" Rukia muses, tentatively raising her gaze again. "I am more grateful than I can express for your hospitality and time. But I don't expect everyone to be so open. Perhaps..." Pausing, Rukia runs her thumb along the lip of her mug. "Perhaps there is some type of task I can be helpful with? Is there anyone coordinating the efforts on the planet?"

Jon blinks twice at the question, then shakes his head. "Ah, no. No, I don't believe there is. Most people stick to where their strengths lie. And while there are the different data points to pick to assist..." He trails off and glances down guiltily. "...it can be difficult to find a match. Medical, agriculture, communications, engineering, piloting and security. Those are the data points. At the moment I believe we don't have many tending to the greenhouse, but the decision is up to you."

He looks back up with a bit of an apologetic expression. "I tried security for a while and it went badly. Medical I found is not something I am suited for either. So far I haven't hurt anyone by attempting communications."

Medical, agriculture, communications, engineering, piloting, and security. It's quite the laundry list, all with varying degrees of familiarity for Rukia. Piloting is a complete unknown, with most shinigami having no need for vehicles when they're perfectly capable of remaining levitated in the air, and agriculture isn't typically left to them either, with any soul being capable of growing food regardless of their spiritual energy. But the others are all viable options, loosely aligning to the various divisions within their military forces.

"Security isn't for everyone," Rukia smiles, thinking no less of Jon for his admission. "Nor medical, being both complex and emotionally draining. Do you know if anyone else has chosen either of those two? I might have some natural strengths, but." Rukia glances down at the hilt of her sword. "It seems like it'd be best for at least one or two individuals to be familiar with each set of skills."

"Well, I know Lauri is in security and Billy may have medical since he has taken to run the hospital. I try to help him with it, but all I do is make sure the place has some painkillers and salves. He mostly uses his magic to heal people." Which makes whatever knowledge Jon has in regards of first aid rather pointless. "But I believe both medical and security could use some extra hands. Medical maybe more than security. The greatest danger around here appear to be the storms. And against those any weaponry is pointless. They rather mess with our perceptions or draw out the things we fear most." Which may or may not play into Jon's strengths at least.

He gives a small nod towards her weapon. "So you are versed both in combat and treating wounds, I take it.Then maybe I should also mention that you can switch those data points freely whenever you like. And they aren't strictly necessary to help with tasks, but they add a little extra knowledge."

In his armor, Echo is an imposing figure, faceless and ready to fight the moment danger arrives on the scene. Thankfully, nothing is setting off any awareness or danger sense/paranoia of late, and the armor he normally wears is instead being maintained. Red fatigues stand out against the desolate streets as the clone sits off to the side by what used to be a wall, the pieces of his kit and his blaster neatly laid out next to him as he inspects the inside of the helmet that rests upside-down in his lap.

So maybe a little of that danger sense picks up on the sounds of someone approaching the area. With it being as quiet as it is, he's making as much noise as whoever else is within range. Plus being in the open like this would be frowned upon, but he recognizes the mistake the moment he decided to do it.

Still, he looks up from his work, his posture straightening in case he needs to get to his feet for any reason. "Who's there?"

It's taken some time for Rukia to grow accustomed to being visible to everyone she's encountered. In the Living World, it wasn't uncommon for animals and other creatures to be aware of a presence nearby — for dogs to bark in her direction even when their owners couldn't perceive a thing — but most of the time, she was able to go about her business undetected. In Tembas, being seen is more the rule than the exception, and Rukia has found herself a little clumsy in accommodating that fact. Her steps aren't as quiet as they could be.

She blinks, hands tightening out of instinct as she meets the man's gaze. Giving her name probably doesn't serve much purpose yet, with her being a relative unknown to most of the population. With one hand left close to her sword's hilt, Rukia holds the other up, palm open, a slight peace offering.

"Me," she replies. "New arrival, I guess."

Better to be prepared for hostiles than not. Echo understands, nodding as he stays where he is. He also lifts his hands away from the helmet so that she can see he has nothing hidden from her sight.

"It's happened to the best of us," he says with a lopsided smile. "Welcome to Temba."

With only twenty or so non-natives on the planet, it's understandable that there's a bias for kindness, every individual leaning into the group in order to stand a chance of survival. Still, Rukia can't help but marvel at how easily everyone has opened up to her so far — even a small gesture like raising one's hands requires a certain level of vulnerability that Rukia would never typically offer a stranger.

But circumstances change.

She lowers her hand away from her sword, offering a bow in return. "Thank you," she replies with a small grin of her own. "I... wish I could say that I was glad to be here? But I appreciate the welcome." A pause. "My name is Kuchiki Rukia."

"Nice to meet you, Kuchiki. I'm Echo," Echo nods in return, letting his hands settle onto the sides of his helmet. "I'm sure you've already noticed how populated this place is. Still, it's been pretty peaceful, so there isn't too much to worry about aside from the wildlife and the structural integrity of the city's existing buildings."

"Fewer than thirty individuals, as I was told," Rukia nods, expression a cross between a smile and a grimace. There are certainly times when she prefers solitude and space, but Temba's current state is another situation entirely. Numbers this small make them into more of a nomad group than an actual city.

But it could be worse, she reminds herself. They could be alone. Or they could be split amongst themselves, dividing into hostile factions. So far, Rukia hasn't encountered anyone who isn't at least neutral to the needs and whims of the broader group.

"I originally wanted to explore more beyond the city, but it never seems that I can get far," Rukia admits, glancing over her shoulder, gaze following the twist and turn of vines. "Which I assume is by design."

The clone considers. "Sounds about right. Unless I've missed anyone else, I haven't seen too many new faces in the few months I've been here."

He's sure it's a few months, give or take a week or two. Space travel and a different setting altogether threw his schedule off a while ago.

"I haven't tested that myself, but I don't think there's really much else," Echo then confirms. "It's mostly forest from what I can recall. There's also a beach a ways from here if ever you're interested in seeing the water." His brow lifts slightly as he tips his head in said direction. "Word of warning, though: stay clear of the caverns that line the shore. They seem to have strange effects on technology or anything that's metal."

Being told to stay clear of a location has the opposite effect on Rukia's interest, and she makes a note to herself to explore by the edge of the water. The warning about metal is well-heeded, Rukia's hand subconsciously pulling closer to the hilt of her sword. Judging by the repairs that Echo appears to be making, Rukia assumes he's had first-hand experience with whatever strange forces are inside of those caverns.

"Do the Agrii offer any information about such risks?" Rukia asks, approaching Echo a little more before finding her own seat on the ground, pulling her knees to her chest. "Bringing us here probably wasn't trivial. I would think that they'd rather keep us safe, if we're supposed to be their means of probably inhabiting this planet again."

To be fair, being blinded by his helmet's HUD and getting constantly shocked is not fun. However, his experience is probably only a fraction of what others with supernatural abilities go through once they enter the caves.

"Maybe it would be better if more people used a buddy system," the clone muses in the meantime, trading the helmet for his right gauntlet once he sees nothing else is wrong with the former. When Rukia sits, he casts a sidelong glance her way. "I suppose they do if you ask. All I know is that they watch us and that they can't land on the planet due to the storms." Looking back down at the gauntlet, he shrugs a shoulder. "We're designated 'heroes' in their eyes and they've seen how well we can take care of ourselves for the most part, so they probably figure we'll be fine while we try to figure out the storm problem."

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

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