somakemelaugh (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
somakemelaugh) wrote in ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png)
riverviewlogs2017-07-15 09:22 pm
somakemelaugh) wrote in riverviewlogs2017-07-15 09:22 pm
[open]
who: Undertaker and whoever wants to bump into him
what: Adjusting to a life this new isn't easy
when: Night of the 15th
where: Various places around the city, ending on a random bench
warnings: A slightly uncharacteristically grumpy Undertaker. Give him a break, he's exhausted.
The one thing he appreciates about this place, other than the awkward reprieve that it's given him from the events of his own life back home, is that at night, it quiets down like the rest of his home once did - perhaps still does, even without him. It becomes a little easier to bear during the witching hours, when he abandons his communal bunk to walk unfamiliar streets, explore strange alleys, look into the windows of stores and shops that might well have come out of a novel. Silence does it for him, or at least, it does it for him for a while.
He still isn't used to it all, though he has been trying to learn. The technology, the way of the people, the nature of their problems. Not for the first time, more so recently than when he had first arrived, he wonders if this city pulled him into its confines because it felt he wanted out of his then-current life, what would happen with him now that his sense of displacement had been amplified exponentially? Probably nothing. Likely nothing. It had done nothing for him so far, short of leave him to struggle to get up to speed with a place that hadn't just jumped forward in time, it had lunged. The small, black device in his pocket was proof enough of that. Only recently had he learned how to properly use it, or otherwise shut the damn thing up if he didn't want to hear it.
He might have to start cutting his nails again to help him with that, but he had thus far refused. This place had taken so much from him, he needed the little things now to keep him grounded. His research. His experiments. All of it, gone in an instant, replaced with uncertainty and caution and suspicion. What could he really pick up again here, if he wanted to continue in his curiosity? Where could he step, how far could he push the boundaries before people picked up on what he was doing and then decided to do something about it? Not that many opportunities had presented themselves thus far to allow him to continue. The dead here were few and far in between.
And his solitude. That had been the hardest loss, and the reason for which he now wandered the streets at night, willing himself to exhaustion so that lying on one of the benches scattered throughout the city in some secluded area or a nice rooftop wouldn't seem so bad a bed. The first night was rough, until he figured out where he could go to escape his roommates. He didn't know them, didn't know if he wanted to know them right off, but he was amicable enough around them. He couldn't yet afford to make enemies, but after spending decades alone, to suddenly be pushed into a place surrounded by what amounted to strangers, he found it near impossible to sleep while they were near. Thus, the nightly walk around the city had begun and turned into a habit.
Habit was good. Habit gave him routine, something to latch onto while work was slow, gave him something to do. But it was slow, and restlessness was a constant, only ending abruptly when exhaustion hit him in the face. It was starting to affect him, with as little as he now slept. It was starting to affect his mood, his energy levels, and it was slowly getting worse. The last thing he needed was to start acting out and bring attention to himself out in the open.
As he walked, still willing exhaustion to take him, listening to the steady sounds of his boots over the ground, he considered his options. He needed something else to do. He needed a new place to stay, somewhere where he could be alone again, where he could rest in peace, and he needed to find a way to earn a little more income to get it. He needed to sort out his place among these people; the research team was a good place to start but it wouldn't last forever. He needed, he needed, he needed so many things.
His head spun. He lifted a hand to pull down his hat and run the other back through his hair before replacing it. Weariness had taken hold and become too much at last, and he knew it had happened when his thoughts started to chase each other in circles and he lost track of where he had been. A small mercy, he had come back into the present to find a bench not far from where he was. He beelined to it, dropped down to the hard seat and stretched out on his back a little more carefully than he'd seated himself. The sky in what he had assumed was the east had already begun to fade to purple and he shifted his hat over his face to hide his eyes from the light - it would wake him again sooner than he wanted, if the sounds of the city waking around him didn't do that first. Just a few hours, he thought to himself. Just a few hours' rest and he could start over again. Maybe look for new work, maybe look for something else to do.
He had been through worse. Right now, it was just the sleep deprivation talking.
what: Adjusting to a life this new isn't easy
when: Night of the 15th
where: Various places around the city, ending on a random bench
warnings: A slightly uncharacteristically grumpy Undertaker. Give him a break, he's exhausted.
The one thing he appreciates about this place, other than the awkward reprieve that it's given him from the events of his own life back home, is that at night, it quiets down like the rest of his home once did - perhaps still does, even without him. It becomes a little easier to bear during the witching hours, when he abandons his communal bunk to walk unfamiliar streets, explore strange alleys, look into the windows of stores and shops that might well have come out of a novel. Silence does it for him, or at least, it does it for him for a while.
He still isn't used to it all, though he has been trying to learn. The technology, the way of the people, the nature of their problems. Not for the first time, more so recently than when he had first arrived, he wonders if this city pulled him into its confines because it felt he wanted out of his then-current life, what would happen with him now that his sense of displacement had been amplified exponentially? Probably nothing. Likely nothing. It had done nothing for him so far, short of leave him to struggle to get up to speed with a place that hadn't just jumped forward in time, it had lunged. The small, black device in his pocket was proof enough of that. Only recently had he learned how to properly use it, or otherwise shut the damn thing up if he didn't want to hear it.
He might have to start cutting his nails again to help him with that, but he had thus far refused. This place had taken so much from him, he needed the little things now to keep him grounded. His research. His experiments. All of it, gone in an instant, replaced with uncertainty and caution and suspicion. What could he really pick up again here, if he wanted to continue in his curiosity? Where could he step, how far could he push the boundaries before people picked up on what he was doing and then decided to do something about it? Not that many opportunities had presented themselves thus far to allow him to continue. The dead here were few and far in between.
And his solitude. That had been the hardest loss, and the reason for which he now wandered the streets at night, willing himself to exhaustion so that lying on one of the benches scattered throughout the city in some secluded area or a nice rooftop wouldn't seem so bad a bed. The first night was rough, until he figured out where he could go to escape his roommates. He didn't know them, didn't know if he wanted to know them right off, but he was amicable enough around them. He couldn't yet afford to make enemies, but after spending decades alone, to suddenly be pushed into a place surrounded by what amounted to strangers, he found it near impossible to sleep while they were near. Thus, the nightly walk around the city had begun and turned into a habit.
Habit was good. Habit gave him routine, something to latch onto while work was slow, gave him something to do. But it was slow, and restlessness was a constant, only ending abruptly when exhaustion hit him in the face. It was starting to affect him, with as little as he now slept. It was starting to affect his mood, his energy levels, and it was slowly getting worse. The last thing he needed was to start acting out and bring attention to himself out in the open.
As he walked, still willing exhaustion to take him, listening to the steady sounds of his boots over the ground, he considered his options. He needed something else to do. He needed a new place to stay, somewhere where he could be alone again, where he could rest in peace, and he needed to find a way to earn a little more income to get it. He needed to sort out his place among these people; the research team was a good place to start but it wouldn't last forever. He needed, he needed, he needed so many things.
His head spun. He lifted a hand to pull down his hat and run the other back through his hair before replacing it. Weariness had taken hold and become too much at last, and he knew it had happened when his thoughts started to chase each other in circles and he lost track of where he had been. A small mercy, he had come back into the present to find a bench not far from where he was. He beelined to it, dropped down to the hard seat and stretched out on his back a little more carefully than he'd seated himself. The sky in what he had assumed was the east had already begun to fade to purple and he shifted his hat over his face to hide his eyes from the light - it would wake him again sooner than he wanted, if the sounds of the city waking around him didn't do that first. Just a few hours, he thought to himself. Just a few hours' rest and he could start over again. Maybe look for new work, maybe look for something else to do.
He had been through worse. Right now, it was just the sleep deprivation talking.
no subject
So, needing a break for the night, Shiro had grabbed his jacket to hide his arm and headed out. He had paused at the door to the floor where Keith lived then decided he wasn't going to bother him either. After continuing the remaining floors down, he stepped out into the darkness.
He didn't have anywhere he was planning on going; he just needed to go somewhere. In the quiet, his boots seemed to make far too much noise. One of those things where one wished they could turn it off, but you couldn't.
But as he wandered outside, he did spot someone further up the way sitting on a bench. He couldn't tell if he was asleep or if he was sitting outside this late at night.
no subject
The hat over his face hid the light outside, but he could feel it was still cool out. The sun hadn't yet poked its bright face over the horizon, or he was lying in a shadow. Either way, he wanted for sleep still. His eyes didn't want to open, still heavy with weariness, yet the footsteps approached. Annoying. He wouldn't be able to sleep again until they had passed him and were gone, but if one person had awakened and made their way here, others could as well. None of that thought did him any favors.
Begrudgingly, he shifted one foot up to free the other and slowly bent the knee, foot resting on the bench seat, to let it rest and relax again. If it was early enough, he might return to his apartment and see about another hour so for a nap.
no subject
As he did get closer, he noticed that the other person shift on the bench, trying to get comfortable again. So he had been asleep. Seemed to be an odd place to sleep, but who was he to judge. If he was tired enough he could fall asleep anywhere. Whether he stayed asleep or not was another question.
"Everything alright?"
With the hat pulled down over his face, Shiro couldn't tell that this was someone he had spoken to previously. All he could really see was that he was sleeping on the bench.
no subject
What would it be? Their own curiosity? An opportunity they thought they might have found, for good or ill will? It was sure to happen one day or another, he groused mentally to himself. It was a city, larger and grander than any he had ever seen, and people were everywhere in it. He had taken risks in wearing himself out on his nightly walks and then allowing himself to pass out on the nearest public place. He should have gone to a rooftop again. It was less comfortable and the sun hit him sooner than he would have wanted to wake him up, but people didn't normally vault to the roofs as soon as they left their homes.
But it was the first time he had been disturbed. Maybe he should count himself lucky.
Giving in, he stretched one arm back and over the bench arm nearest to his head. "Aye," he groaned, shifting to stretch a little more with the movement now that it had induced a stretch fest all down his torso. "Just fine."
no subject
At least Shiro was only disturbing him to make sure he was alright, since falling asleep on a park bench seemed really weird to him. He had no ill-will towards the other person. It wasn't his style to go after someone had encountered on the street.
"Good. Glad to hear it. Just wasn't expecting someone to be sleeping out here." Since didn't everyone at least have a bed on a communal floor. Even if they didn't have the money to go anywhere else, they did have that.
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He flipped his hat up briefly, showing a wide grin until it flopped clumsily back over his face. "Bed didn't feel right." It was a pitiful excuse, even for him, when he thought back on what he'd said a moment later. Was that really the best he could come up with? He really did need the rest. "I'm used to something a little harder."
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When the other flipped up his hat even that much, he could see that smile. He recognize it as Undertaker, one of the people he had spoken to recently. He recognized it as a flimsy excuse. There were other options, including the bed in his own apartment. So it seemed there was another reason.
"A shame that you would need something harder."
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So he made a decision and left his hat where it was while he was at it. "That it is. I've heard it's easier the other way, but never got used to it."
A lie. The bench hurt, and he would have preferred his own bedding back home, but the one provided to him worked well enough. When he could comfortably sleep in it with roommates around.
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"Are you sure the bench is a better option?"
Also...
"If you want me to leave, tell me."
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Sure. He could be truthful about that, at least. He was too weary for any real shenanigans, whether or not he wanted to be. "I'd prefer sleep, if it's all the same to you." He considered elaborating on that, but held off on it for the time being. Maybe he could avoid that altogether.
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At the comment, that he would prefer sleep, Shiro nodded. "Then I won't keep from going back to sleep. Take care of yourself."
Both because he was outside sleeping on a bench and because sleeping outside in the open wasn't exactly the safest thing to do.
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Maybe luck was with him. It seemed like the man was looking to do just that. "You as well." He hadn't started to step away just yet, but already Undertaker felt the muscles in him starting to go lax again, despite the ache here and there from his choice of bedding for the morning. An afterthought, he added, "Thanks for the concern."
no subject
"Thank you."
He nodded in response to the last, turning and heading off, letting the other attempt some more sleep.
no subject