[ORP] Getting the band back together

[Oliveman]

Writ laid on the front steps of his home, staring up at a cloudy night sky, through the glare of the streetlights he could see flashes of lightning silently lighting up behind the veil of clouds. He laid there, with a can of cheap beer in his hand and some old memories in his head.

The nostalgia streaks have worn off throughout the months, between finding a job and going through with his half-thought-out plans, he had less time to reminisce about the past. It was about time too, now was the time to stop wallowing in his own self-pity. Of course, there were times, usually when he was a couple beers in, that the memories of Southern would creep up on him.

There were storms back in Southern, none of this ominous bullshit in the sky. When there was lightning in the sky, there was going to be a storm, no doubt. But in Central, it was different. There was always lightning, but there never was anything else.

It was never this dry back at home.

Writ sniffed. Drinking always made him reminisce about the stupid s**t.

It had been a boring few months. After the initial race out of Southern before it exploded, things had slowed down to nearly a standstill. He was settled in now, with a stable job and a solid home, he had to admit, he could get used to it all. It beat scrounging the dumpsters for food.

As nice as it all was, Writ couldn’t help but feel that it was way too quiet. He liked having a few months off, but he felt like he was getting soft. He felt like he should be fighting something right now, or hurling something explosive. His thoughts drifted to where to start.  

[Kokonotsu]

As idyllic as it would be to say that over the last few months Faylen had settled into his new surroundings, started fresh and started to perk up...well, it would be a lie, quite frankly. As if the poor German could have it so easy!

The initial phase of settling in had initially been a sweet relief to Faylen, granted. The bustle of getting moved in, unpacking what paltry goods he'd managed to squirrel with him had been a delicious distraction to keep his mind from focusing on the facts that a) the only home he'd ever known had blown to kingdom come, b) that included his mother who he still had loved until the end (despite everyone's best attempts to get him to feel otherwise) and finally, c) he was- aside from his sister and his Goddess- entirely alone; There was nothing familiar here for him to cling to.

Alone...it was a terrible sensation for a young boy to have to handle. It was why any distraction to break the grip of neurotic fear and enormity of the situation was welcomed with open arms.

Unfortunately, such felicity could hardly last forever.

Soon, the bustling distraction of moving in, reconnecting with others and poking about new places melted into the placid slurry of time that reigned for the next few months. In this stagnation, the thoughts that buzzed around the edge of the boy's overactive mind began to dart in and seize his brain with sharp teeth. The nightmares started invading his thoughts as well. Dreams of screaming city-goers consumes by flame, clunks of their face melting and oozing off. The ones where his mother screamed at him, demanding to know why he didn't try harder to save her were the worst. He still had a lot of guilt over the woman's death, for all she did to him growing up.

He should have talked to his sister about it but...he didn't want to worry her or trouble her. So he worked on cultivating his long-standing ability to simply smile politely and hide the stress. It was better that way. Better for everyone.

He further coped with the stress much like he did while staying at Mr. Quinn's house- he cleaned. It had always been relaxing to him. The swish of the scrub bursh! The slosh of soapy water! The hissing spritz of windex! It was like the finest symphony to him, all tied together by the lemony fragrence that wrapped him up. He took solace in the thought that every swipe of the cloth and every stroke of the broom was clearing away some grime- even if he couldn't clean up the biggest of messes in life, he could at least take care of these small ones.

So wrapped in his quest to compulsively clean, he hardly noticed the self-imposed isolation. He didn't notice the days and weeks slipping and sliding away. He got out, sure, mostly to go to the library for books (oh, he read a lot!) or to the store for food. His contacts with people weakened and he rebuffed any attempt to call this to attention.

His goddess didn't pressure him too hard to get back into the Game either. Ayida-Wedo's thought was that forcing the boy back into Play in such a fragile state could only end in disaster. Plus, she had all the time in the world and while her charge didn't...the game wouldn't be lost in the span of a few months. Everyone was slowing down for a moment. Maybe they'd both get lucky and some of the older players would fight amongst themselves and shrink the combat pool.

It was eventually his sister that took action on prying the boy from their apartment. She had a keen sight, able to notice the boy slipping deeper and deeper into a depressive rut even though he continued to spew his smokescreen of fake happiness. She insisted he get out more, and that he'd feel much better if he stepped outside of his boundaries. It was just...this place was so new. He knew nothing of the streets, landmarks and dangers beyond the trip to the store and to the library. This place...it made him nervous. He was always paranoid he'd get jumped and taken away by the Blacksuits that seemed to ooze out of the city's every pore. It was frankly safer to stay home, he argued.

Plus, he had grouched back then, walking made his hip hurt.

She left him with little choice when she shooed him out the door, locking it behind her as she headed to work. He sulked outside the first day, fidgeting nervously and looking up and down the hall wildly, as though the 'Suits would flood the building and carry him off. The second day he hunkered down at the library. It was there that the librarian suggested he check out the community center's Kids Club program. It was through there he picked up a job.

Nothing major, just a small paper route. Child labor laws didn't allow for much more. The familiarity of the job soothed him and got him out. One job eventually lead to another, more clandestine job, though. He worried about his sister, see. Making barely more than minimum wage didn't pay bills well nor did it leave them much money for food. Government aide was out too- with no ties, no documents, no nothing...they could get anything. Plus...it was best not to attract attention for the city's higher-ups. It was too great a risk.

Having two jobs was a lot of work for a young boy, though. It left him exhausted and drained most days. He was up by dawn to head over to the other job, stocking shelves and cleaning up at a local shop (it was all very under the table, granted, thanks to the aforementioned labor laws). Then it was off to the community center to pick up the loaner bike for his route. It was coordinated perfectly, really- his sister never woke before 8am so she'd never notice him missing at the crack of dawn. She did know of his paper route, so him being gone when she did wake up was never anything too odd. If anything, she supported his small job as it got him out of the house more. By the time he got home, she was off to her job, which allowed him time to take a quick nap before getting up for the rest of the day. No one had to know anything else. No one had to worry. He so hated when people worried on account of him!

It was, in the end, work that left the boy absolutely exhausted but...at least it provided enough money for them to scrape by. Fay had never realized just how much his mother had done between her binges and bouts of violence. Growing up and being responsible was hard. Especially when one had to grow up long before he ought to have.

Tonight, though, instead of sleeping he was up and roaming the streets. He couldn't sleep, for all his exhaustion. The nightmares...still persisted and it mad him more than a little nervous of sleep. He couldn't quite remember where he was or how he got here, so wrapped in tiredness (and frankly, depression)...it was no surprise he just about missed Mr. Writ sitting outside.

A few feet past the stood, though, he paused, stopping dead. He turned around slowly, looking at the older godling with tired eyes. They widened quite a bit as they confirmed what he'd thought he saw.

"Hey! Hey!" he said, voice coming out quiet and dusty at first, but picking up with excitement. "M-Mr. Vrit! Is it really you?" It wasn't very eloquent, but his mind failed him at the moment.  

[moonlit-raven]

Padma was also out and about, now that she had finally adapted to being older. It had taken her a little while, but things were working out well now. Part time job, at a little local bookstore run by a very nice couple who didn't care about the fact that she didn't really have paperwork, less of a bother about living by herself, since she had a 'growth' spurt to say, so, she really couldn't complain, although the strange calmness of Central was slightly off-putting. She hadn't run into another player for a while now, and that, more than anything, had her slightly concerned.

On the other hand, they had all just been dropped into a whole new place, and had to figure out just how they were going to survive, so perhaps it wasn't all that odd. They would have had just as much things to figure out as she did, and for Writ, possibly a few more. He was old enough that some of the things that would be looked over for a kid wouldn't be for him.

In any case, when she noticed Faylen and Writ, two of the players that she actually had met before up ahead, she quickened her pace so that she'd join them sooner. It was nice to see a pair of familiar faces. "Hey guys," she greeted them. "Long time no see."  

[Oliveman]

Writ tilted his head down to see Faylen. Of course it was him. He looked down at his apron with the Cherries Jubilee logo. Ah. Writ could see why Faylen would do a double take. It was the first time Faylen's seen him as a somewhat ordinary upstanding citizen. Usually when Faylen saw him, he was in the midst of scheming, or setting something aflame. A sedate Writ must've been a surprising sight for him.

Writ slowly pulled himself up, it's been a while since he's seen another Godling, save for Quinn and Vale and their cafe shenanigans, but his job has kept him mostly to his own business. He took a swig of his beer and looked at Faylen. He streched his arms out and yawned before everything registered. He hadn't changed at all. Writ was somewhat impressed. The kid's survived being in the middle of his schemes, a nuclear attack and a entire change of setting, and his god still hasn't given him the good ol' growth spurt. His god must have had some kind of innocence streak.

“Faylen!” He took a swig of beer, “Man, you haven't changed a bit!”

Well, he looked a lot more tired, but Writ could understand that. He wasn't looking all that great himself. This city had that effect on people.  

[Kokonotsu]

He smiled up at Mr. Writ, a tired yet earnest grin. It was nice to see someone he knew (and respected, for that matter) from the old city. He had a brief thought that he was bothering Mr. Writ by yelling at him so late at night but...it was quickly dissolved by his contented and placid look. He rocked back and forth from heels to the balls of his feet, unsure of what to say. Needless to say, social graces had not been much improved upon over the last few months. Hell, it was a miracle his accent hadn't gotten worse given he hadn't even spoken much English either. He didn't talk much outside of the home and within the home, he and his sister settled for the familiar sounds of German (even if it was no longer obligatory).

"Um, no...I suppose I haf not. Zat is not so bad zhough, ja?" he said with a small shrug, looking at the older godling for approval. "Oh! Zat apron! Do you have a job too, Mr. Vrit?" he said suddenly, tilting his head a bit.

He still looked the same as he had before, small and unobtrusive as ever, but with a shy interest in his older players. His hair was still tipped with white and he still wore the same scales- albeit covered haphazardly with concealer so as not to draw too much attention.

Speaking of attention...Faylen couldn't help but give a nervous glance up and down the street. Many of the times he had been around Mr. Writ, some sort of trouble had occurred. It was reflexive, really. He blinked at the girl that approached, taking an instinctive step away. He...sort of recognized her. She was on the boat, right? But having never known Padma in-depth, he couldn't really recall that she'd been much smaller when he'd bumped into her.

Faylen was still ignorant of the changes that happened during the game, and his goddess had kept him that way. After all, there was no need to stress her godling about such things prematurely. When the time came, there would be plenty of time to worry about it.

His smile faltered, looking a bit nervous. He gave a small bow as Padma approached, looking down a bit. Older women outside of his sister...they made him nervous. But Mother had always said to treat them with the utmost civility. Even though she was...not here anymore, he would hate to disgrace her memory by acting poorly.

"Guten abend." he offered politely. He did recall, from his limited memory of her, that Padma was a Nice Godling at the least, so after a few moments he looked up again with a timid smile. "G-good evening, I am meaning."  

[Oliveman]

"Well, you get a whole lot more job options when you're my age, that's for sure." Writ picked himself up. It was a pity Faylen wasn't a bit older, he could've offered him a beer without looking like a creeper. He made a mental note to talk to Vale- he missed having a drinking buddy.

He stood up when Padma came over. "Well, this night's just full of players, isn't it?" Writ waved at her, "How've you been Padma?"  

[Kokonotsu]

Even if he were older, it was entirely likely he would have turned down the offer. Faylen...was never one to try the 'bad boy' sort of things in life, kept fearful from a young age and 'encouraged' by his mother to be a Good Boy. Beyond that, he'd seen just what drinking turned a person into so even without the maternally-enforced inclination to refuse, he'd likely have declined out of visceral fear of the beverage.

But that was all moot point now. What wasn't, however, was his comment on jobs. Faylen nodded emphatically in response, loathe to swap too much attention from Padma- it was impolite to be flighty-minded and turn away from a women before one was addressed, after all.

But it was also impolite to ignore someone you were conversing with initially. Manners were difficult at times.

"Ja, I vould zhink so! It vas hard for to get a job...but ve needed zhe money. It does not fall from zhe trees." he said, frowning a bit. "But...I have a paper route. It reminds me of...of back home."

His voice caught a bit and he looked down at his shoes as he thought of home, shadows cast by the hood of his sweatshirt that he wore pulled up tonight. He still missed Southern, even after a few months had elapsed. He picked at the sleeves of the watermelon-pink hoodie, sighing a bit. He swung his head back up and put forth a smile, not wanting to be a bother.

"But...I guess a new start is nice."

It's for the best, child. Having a fresh start...it opens many doors for you.

"Ayida says it is a good zhing." he added, though he didn't sound like he entirely believed it.