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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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."

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[open] death made visible

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