attic_thunder (attic_thunder) wrote in strangergamesrp, @ 2012-10-31 14:05:00 |
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Entry tags: | closed, garrett horsefeather, gin charlie, log |
[log]
Who: Garrett and GIn Charlie
When: October 14th
Where: Infirmary and the Grounds
What: Garrett arrives and get settled in.
Warnings: None
Open or Closed: Closed
Observable: Yes
The light fell too bright. Garrett lay on his side. The sheets curled around his body, too stiff. They smelled too clean. Not an inn. Not Home. Nowhere he knew or that he had been in his travels. Garrett heard a body breathing behind him. Something shrieked periodically beside his head. Garrett knew something had happened. He was not in a place he wanted to be.
If he were, then they would forgive him.
Garrett sat up and spun in one smooth motion, flinging the sheet up and at the person beside the bed to shield his movements as his cold feet struck the freezing floor.
The only problem with such a reaction was that the person beside the bed was actually all the way up against the wall, leaning there with his arms crossed and watching the sheet fall with a particularly disinterested expression. Gin Charlie looked up at Garrett without alarm or even bewilderment. In fact he was looking bored.
Another new one, another day, he really needed to get back to his floor and finish fixing the drone that was currently spread out across his office floor.
As soon as he figured out who had stuck bubblegum to its joints.....
“Well, fuck you too.”
Garrett took in the man a good few feet across from him, glanced at the sheet spread on the floor between them, then looked back up at the man. He looked impressive, certainly. A warrior no doubt, which made Garrett more uneasy about all of this.
“You breathe very loudly.” Garrett leaned down and picked up his sheet, the only kind of weapon he had. He felt a strange weight on his ear and reached up to touch. He found a cold, metal hoops dangling from his ear.
Stranger and stranger.
“Are you here to tell me where I am and make demands?” Garrett asked carefully. He didn’t recognize any of the architecture.
Gin Charlie snorted. “I am here to tell you where you are and to tell you to calm the fuck down. Now sit down and we’ll talk about this reasonably.” Though in his younger body it didn’t quite take as much effort in a confrontation, he was still a fan of getting things solved in less final ways. Besides, the Scientists got pissy when he killed the newcomers.
“I’m calm,” Garrett retorted, but he didn’t move to sit. This man seemed to be telling the truth. Still, Garrett twisted the sheet up, hoping it could be discounted as a nervous gesture.
“Perhaps you should start explaining things,” Garrett prompted. Such as why he’d been stuck with earrings.
“If you try to garrotte me with that I will kill you.” Gin Charlie’s smile was not exactly pleasant. “You’re in a different world. The Machine has brought you here, but the Scientists can send you back, for a price. They want you to work until you pay off the debt for sending you home. Welcome to Pacis Urbs.”
“And I am supposed to calmly accept this interruption of my life and go along happily with their plan?” Garrett asked, cocking an eyebrow.
“Most people do,” Gin Charlie returned. “After a while.”
“What happens to those that don’t? Garrett asked, stepped away and looking around again. “And why bring people here only to send them back home?” Garrett could not sense any lies in what the man said, but it didn’t make sense.
“The ones who don’t cause trouble and general chaos.” Gin Charlie rolled his eyes. “They say they can’t stop the Machine from bringing people here anymore. Once she had a great purpose. These days, not so fuckin’ much. But she still does what she was meant to, and they send you back home after a while.”
He shrugged. “You can fight in the Games, or work in the Domus Hospes, or do housework around the dorms. I don’t give a damn what you do as long as you don’t start trouble.”
“Games? What kind of Games, and why would that help me get home?” Garrett twisted the fabric in his hands.
“The Games are fights for entertainment. Mock-battles or games of skill. Sometimes obstacle courses.” Gin Charlie eyes Garrett dispassionately. “You look like a fighter. You’ll do well in the Games and probably earn your way home faster.”
Garrett grimaced. “And if I die I’ll never get home. That seems a poor trade to me.” He could try to fight this, but he didn’t think it would get him anywhere. He would fight, yes, but not know. He needed to know more about this place.
Garrett shrugged. “And this is a little...light for fighting in.” Garrett motioned to the scrubs he wore.
“Dying don’t fuckin’ last here.” Gin Charlie bared his teeth in a death’s head parody of a grin. “And all your shit’s down in your room. And your damn giant horse is outside doing his best to take hands off.”
“What do you mean dying doesn’t last?” Garrett asked, pushing down the urge to ask where Thunder was if he were here and if the horse were okay.
“If you die, they grow you a fresh body and put you back in it. That costs money, too, so don’t die too often.” Gin Charlie lounged still against the wall, unconcerned....but he was ready to move and watching Garrett far more closely than first appeared.
That the words didn’t even have a trace of a lie in it bothered Garrett the most. He found the thought horrible--growing someone a new body. Death existed for a reason.
“What about the horse? Is he alright?” Garrett asked.
“Terror on four legs with teeth. He’s so fuckin’ fine he like to killed Terry. Damn near kicked his head in, cotton-brained boar.” Gin Charlie rolled his eyes. “Clothes and weapons first, or horse?”
“Horse.” If Garrett had Thunder, then he had a weapon. Garrett dropped the sheet back onto the bed. “Did any people happen to come through with me?” Garrett asked, doubtful, but it didn’t hurt to ask.
“No. Just you and apparently your horse. Rules are: no fighting, and no killing.” Gin Charlie unfolded and pushed off from the wall in an easy, lanky motion. “Got that?”
Garrett bowed, wondering who else would follow these crazy rules. “I understand.” But he would fight if others fought him. Garrett straightened and eyed the man. “My horse?”
Gin Charlie nodded and pushed aside the curtain. He stepped out into the quiet tiled hall and headed for the elevator. “This is the infirmary. Come here when you need it. And yes, there are healer here who can take care of your horse.”
Garrett nodded and followed Gin Charlie out. He looked around the alienly whole room, turning and wondering if the entire place would look like this.
Gin Charlie poked the button for the elevator. “This is the elevator. Got these?” he asked, as it dinged and the doors opened.
Garrett rocked back as the door opened. He looked at the little box of a room carefully before he stepped into it. Well, if they had a “Machine” that brought people from other worlds, what other strange things would they have here?
“No,” Garrett answered.
Well, the war-horse and leathers had clued him in - not very technologically advanced equipment. Granted that wasn’t a sure thing but Gin Charlie had been at this a while. He shrugged and stepped on the elevator. “Works on electricity, pulleys, instead of stairs.” He punched the button. “First floor to get outside, infirmary button here, third floor - where your room is - right here.”
“Do I have to stay in my room?” Garrett asked. He’d rather sleep outside with Thunder, truth be told. Unless it was freezing. Garret almost stumbled as the elevator moved. He braced himself with one hand.
“I’d prefer it. Makes it easier to get hold of you in an emergency,” Gin Charlie answered, calmly. The elevator doors opened and Gin Charlie stepped out. He headed for the glass door of the lobby at a steady pace.
“Do you have many emergencies?” Garrett looked around the room. This, at least, he semi-recognized the function of. This would be the training rooms. There were a few people in it, though they didn’t pay much attention to Gin Charlie and Garrett. Garrett took this to mean that newcomers weren’t that odd or exciting.
“Not regularly but not infrequently,” Gin Charlie answered, pushing open the glass door and stepping out into the thin fall sunshine. The wind whipped strong from the harbor, trees creaking; there was a storm from the ocean coming in the next day or so. The strong eastern wind was brisk with chill. Gin Charlie wore no shirt but didn’t mind the temperature or the wind much. He was from a less temperate climate and had never lost the habit of it.
Leaves were bright autumn colours though the grass was still the rich brilliant green of summer, lush and soft beneath Gin charlie’s moccassins. Thin clouds scudded over the pale sky.
A lost seagull blown in by the wind cried out and landed on a windowledge.
Garrett took a breath. He could smell the ocean. A storm, given the wind and the clouds. Garret pushed his hair back behind his ear. He didn’t mind the cold weather, though the wind cut through his scrubs and raised gooseflesh on him.
Garrett stepped away from Gin Charlie and raised his hands to his lips. He cupped his hands and blew into them, releasing a mournful whistle into the air. Garrett paused to listen, then whistled again. This time, a shrill whinny answered. Garrett smiled to himself and stepped forward. Thunder came from the woods, where he’s probably been hiding from the wind. The horse charged towards Garrett, sixteen hands of terrifying muscle and a steel shod hooves.
Garrett held out his hands and Thunder came to a bouncing halt in front of Garrett. Garrett winced, glad he hadn’t been on the horse when that had happened.
“Hello, friend, enjoying yourself?” Garrett asked, getting a nose shoved into his face. Thunder blew out a warm, grass scented breath, then began nuzzling Garrett, looking for pockets and treats. Garrett set his hands on either side of the stallion’s head and breathed out as Thunder’s forehead pressed to his breastbone.
“Is there a place for him?” Garrett asked, turning his head to look at Gin Charlie. Thunder lifted his head and snorted at the other man, ears pricked.
“There is.” Gin Charlie appraised the horse again. It was a good horse. “This way.”
He turned and continued walking, heading along the line of the dorms and the inner wall, the wind behind him.
Garrett followed, one hand on Thunder’s neck to keep the horse with him. Thunder flagged his tail and kept his head up, but otherwise behaved.
Gin Carlie walked steadily, the earth solid beneath his feet. The time of dying, of renewal, harvest and bounty and death creeping closer. He felt the seasons not as a fighter but as a farmer, and the years as a warrior could not change it. He had once been rooted deep to the earth, and still he felt that.
Deep in the western corner, near the walls, was a neat little one-horse stall. Very tidy with hay stacked near under a tarp, and the straw within fresh and fluffy-clean.
Garrett walked past Gin Charlie and took his time examining the barn. He checked the boards for wind proofing, and sat down in the straw himself as Thunder nosed around. The stall would be a bit smaller than what Thunder had at home, but he didn’t have to be closed up. He could come and go as he pleased. Garrett would have to get him a bucket for water, and maybe some grain for the colder months.
If Garrett stayed that long.
Garrett finished inspecting and walked back to Gin Charlie, trailing his horse. “It will do.”
“I’ll let them know you approve,” Gin Charlie retorted, dryly.
He paused, face growing distant for a moment, then turned at pointed. “That window there, on the third floor, is yours. So you should be able to see him if he’ll stay around the stall.” Gin Charlie hadn’t known many horses that wouldn’t. They were greedy things and liked food.
Thunder propped his head on Garrett’s head. “I doubt it, but thank you for the consideration.” He should check his room for his tack. “Where can I find a bucket for him? And grain?” Not that the pig needed grain yet.
Gin Charlie listened again, then walked around to the back the the shed. He opened a door and there was a tiny little tack room, where saddle and bridle and other equipment rested. Buckets and a bin of grain, and more hay. Gin Charlie nodded. “There should be a bucket of water in there. You don’t have to worry about cleaning the stall or keeping the water filled unless you want to. They have kids they can hire for it.” Every child needed a good honest work, in gin Charlie’s opinion. Kept them out of trouble.
That was a much better setup than carrying his tack down every time he needed it. “I suppose when I need more hay and grain, I should report to you?” If Gin Charlie was in charge. No mention of going outside this walled area to work had been made. Garrett assumed he was stuck in this place--he certainly wouldn’t let strangers from other worlds wander around in his city.
“You can. The grass will stay good year-round. You shouldn’t need much hay.” Gin Charlie stepped aside, bent, and scooped up a rabbit. The flop-eared, fawn-furred creature sat complacently in the crook of his arm, chewing. “Just try not to run over too many people when you’re riding.”
Thunder stepped around Garrett and tried to give the rabbit and good sniffing and inspecting. Garrett stepped out of the way, smiling wryly. “We will attempt to preserve the well being of all the creatures here...”
“Good. Also, stay the hell out of the pond. The anha likes a fresh liver.” Gin Charlie watched the horse inspect the rabbit, who sat complacently in his arms. Not all rabbits would, but these saw a lot of strange things on a daily basis. Curious horses did not even top the list. Gen Charlie offered the flat of his hand for inspection as well.
Thunder moved his ears and eyed Gin Charlie’s hand before he deigned to sniff it. Personally, Garrett took the fishing comment as a challenge. If he didn’t need a team of oxen to pull it out, that was. He didn’t mind fishing for things to large, but he didn’t have oxen here. A quick release harness and Thunder would probably do the trick.
Gin Charlie flipped his hand over and patted the whiskery nose once, before he stooped to release the rabbit. It bounced away, lazily. Gin Charlie straightened, a hand habitually going to his back even though nothing hurt anymore, young and flexible.
Thunder sniffed Gin Charlie’s hand long enough to smell he had no food, and then went on to follow the rabbit. Garrett watched the horse go, then eyed the man in front of him. Gin Charlie looked young enough, though he acted as if he could be older than he looked. Garrett didn’t think that made this man any less of a threat. He could probably still take Garrett apart if Garrett were not careful.
Garrett bowed at the waist. The strange weight of the earrings pulled at his ears. “Thank you.”
“Finally, someone with manners,” Gin Charlie sighed, and bowed in return. He added the light brush of fingers to forehead, the outward flick ending with palm turned towards Garrett. Maybe the man would know it, was from a similar enough culture to recognize it. “You’re welcome.”
Garrett laughed. “After all the hours...” He could not count how long people had spent cramming manners into his head. Garrett shook his head.
“Strange, that across worlds some things still mean the same.” Garrett shook his head. “Does it show that badly?” He had a circlet in his things, but it wasn’t very fancy.
“Only to one who looks,” Gin Charlie admitted. “And the horse. There aren’t many soldiers with a horse trained like that.” Though anyone could train a horse, and many were obedient to the trainer, Garrett was also a soldier and the horse was clearly bonded closely to him. That privilege was not often one available to common soldiers.
“I hope there are few who look, then.” He’d rather not be branded as “royal.” People could take it in odd ways, and who was to say there wouldn’t be those who would target him because of his birth?
“Some might.” Gin Charlie shrugged. “Take care. I have other duties to see to. My office is on the third floor if you need to find me.”
Though he’d know before then. Molly would let him know.
Garrett nodded. “Thank you for your time, good sir."