SHITSTORM EVE (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
shitstorm_eve) wrote in ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png)
vesanalia2019-02-24 06:17 pm
shitstorm_eve) wrote in vesanalia2019-02-24 06:17 pm
Intro Post
Welcome to Carlyle...Waking UpIt's happening again. All around town. Maybe it's in the cereal aisle of the general store while no mothers with squalling children are traversing it. Maybe it's in the middle of the town's lonely graveyard, full of hundred-year-old graves in the middle of the night. Maybe in the local city hall restroom, eyes opening to a gaze-full of toilet paper, or in the town's settler museum full of wagon wheels and old farming paraphernalia. There are still a few government workers milling around since the first influx. People in bland suits of various shades of grays and browns, nothing particularly impressive, but if they approach someone who doesn't seem to belong they'll bring them through the intake process. Though there's a chance that, instead, they'll meet a kindly marshall. Average middle-class white guy, a tall Midwesterner with some scruff and a formal uniform and a stocky build. He will discretely move them through if it's needed, make sure they have an ID and paperwork and phone and some concealing clothes if they have the body type that works for it. If they look special or like someone the government might want, he'll try to keep things on the down-low for them. Better than to lose people again. Getting FamiliarizedWhen investigating the town, they'll find it with trace damage from the night before. Someone is replacing a door that has ax-marks in it. Another is rebuilding a fence, a crashed car ready to be towed away. And yet another person is filing an insurance claim with his agent, his shed completely burned down and the air closeby filled with the scent of settled smoke. Most of the residents of Carlyle are friendly. If you stop and ask for directions, they'll give them. It's also a time of year in which there are lots of outsiders, on top of current events. Unfortunately, if anyone's dressed in an entirely unfamiliar way, someone might over-react. They may excitedly run to get one of the agents, or they might scream about it happening again, or they might be absolutely delighted and want pictures so they can go viral on FaceBook. There's a cafe in town where there's are a slew of reporters, talking about post-Vesanalia clean-up and the lost arrivals. At first, someone who wanders in might be mistaken for another reporter, there to order coffee or jam microphones at the management outside. But someone might be smart. A towns-person might notice something off, a familiarity in their gaze, or might hear them say something suspicious. The next thing they know, those reporters are turning their microphones towards the newcomer. Settling InSomeone might need somewhere to sleep. Well, there's a nice little hotel where it's free. There's probably government surveillance if you care about that sort of thing. Otherwise, your rest will go undisturbed and have the average conveniences of a mediocre bed, a Febreeze smelling duvet, a somewhat new TV, and bathroom with a tile pattern installed in the 80s. One could try a barn, but there's a chance they'll be run out by an angry man in honest to god overalls and an unironic cowboy hat with a pitchfork. They could also try to sleep in a vehicle. Let's just hope the owner doesn't come checking before morning. |
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You can stay if you'd like.
[It's not really a big deal, at least not to Connor. To him, this is all just another mission- to look and act human. He appreciates the concern though, and gives Hank a tiny smile before turning back to the mirror.
He leans in, brows furrowed as he lifts the scissor attachment to his LED. He digs it in, twists, and the LED pops out without much fanfare. It leaves behind a shallow indent in the white plastic beneath his skin, which quickly heals over until there's no trace of him ever having one in the first place. He automatically runs his fingers over the area, but it doesn't feel all that strange.]
no subject
[Well, he'd never look average, that's for damn sure. But right now he looks like a human. 'Looks good' doesn't sound appropriate. It's not something he's really choosing and the implication would be that he looked bad as an android. ]
[He steps up behind him, then. Puts his hands on his shoulders. ] How does it feel to look like your average Joe? [He'll just take the route of a joke. ] ...Average fucking.... 2019 Joe.
no subject
Not too much different from looking like an android. Physically, at least. I do feel better about not having to hide myself, though.
[Connor picks up the LED and tosses it in the bin. It's 2019, nobody is going to know what that is.]
What do you think?
[Hank's opinion is important to him, after all. Does he look okay?]
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[He gives him a little buttpat of encouragement.]
You look good. Don't worry about it.
[Just throw them the shitty babydoll eyes and he'll destroy someone.]
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I do need more clothes, I guess. I don't have to wear this uniform anymore.
[Even if the android jacket is in someone's bush right now, he still feels like he's in uniform.]
I'd like the opportunity to pick my own clothes.
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[Then his eyes drop down to his uniform, and his brain picks through the super obvious words that he'd like to pick out his own clothes.]
Right. Clothes. You need those. Humans tend to dress in more than one outfit and not like some Scooby Doo character. Yeah, lets get you something.
I have fuck all for money, though. So we might have to schmooz a little. [As much as he hates to admit that.]
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I can fix our money problem. Just take me to an ATM.
[He won't take much, but both he and Hank need clothes and Hank will need food and drink, too.]
I promise I'll look for a real job as soon as I can, but for now we're going to have to do whatever is necessary.
no subject