InsaneJournal

who | Emma Winchester (currently going by "Lydia") & OPEN
what | Exploring the city.
when | Early evening.
where | Random streets.
rating | TBD
status | In Progress

While everyone else was busy either talking about the situation over their PDAs, or doing their part to help others, Lydia was busy familiarizing herself with the city as well as the inhabitants who did seem to have their memories in tact. She had noticed, the day before, that someone had pointed out the people with memories, but she had figured it out much sooner than that and saw no reason to share her information with either the woman who had made the observation nor to anyone else. In fact, Lydia really saw no reason to speak to much of anyone who was currently amnesiac. They just didn't interest her very much. Not when they didn't know anything about themselves.

Was it hypocritical, considering she didn't know anything about herself either? Yes. A bit. She would freely admit that. However, what she did know was that there was something in her that made her curl her lip in vague disgust at how helpless they all seemed. The fact that there were beings in the city who weren't helpless, who had jobs and memories and lives? Well, those were the ones she thought might be worth a bit of her time.

The only problem was, trying to strike up a conversation with veritable strangers when you had nothing personal to add to the conversation wasn't the easiest of things to do. But that hardly stopped her because, apparently, one of her particular skill sets was a pretty good ability to lie on the spot. Which meant she was more than capable of making up her own life story, improvising as she went depending on the circumstances, and the only thing she really had to keep straight was the name she'd given herself.

Well that, and making sure she didn't lose control of her temper and seriously hurt someone. But, after her first night there - when she'd backhanded some guy through a wall for trying to get handsy with her - she'd managed to find a way to keep herself in check. The fact that she instinctively could fight, that her mind - as muddled as it was in the memory department - could pull up various techniques and battle strategies at a moment's notice, helped. It was much easier to avoid getting into sticky situations that would pit her against the police force when she knew her triggers. And if ever there was a trigger for her, it was some smarmy guy who thought he was superior.

Why she felt that way, she didn't know. She didn't really care, either. It was a feeling, almost something instinctive for her, and she wasn't going to question it. Instead, she was going to keep right on doing as much information gathering as she could and, sooner or later, figure out some way to fix whatever had been done to her. Then she was going to find whoever was responsible and beat them to death with their own arms.

All-in-all, it seemed like a pretty good plan. In fact, it was enough to bring a slight smirk to her face as she stepped out of the restaurant where she'd had dinner and turned up the collar of her coat against the cool night air. Or maybe the smirk was due to the sight of a guy across the street getting the crap kicked out of him. That was entirely a possibility too.

Either way, though, it wasn't important. What was important was finding some way to spend the rest of her night. And that's precisely what she set out to do as she turned on her heel and made her way down the sidewalk, wondering who, or what, she might discover this time.