cityofhex | WEEK 01

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WEEK 01

Somewhere, a gear slips.

It's sunset on Halloween night; a night of celebration for the dead and the once-dead, a night of wariness for those bound closely to the spirits. Everything seems to move more freely on this night; the sensation of boundaries crossed is almost palpable.

A handful of those native to the city will certainly feel such. Between one step and the next, there's a feeling of pushing against something, something you didn't know was there before - and it gives. Physically, nothing changes, but you now know something is wrong, as though waking from a dream. Something has slipped, and you remember. Hajime will feel the sensation most keenly, as the things he recalls lack the sharp details of a demon's memory.

Meanwhile, somewhere in the Sixth, the New Arrivals all also find themselves taking steps - the first thing the group will become aware of in the city is being shoved out the door of what seems to be some kind of broken down factory. The alley they step into is wide enough to get a truck through, but shows little sign of human habitation; only a cardboard box, half-dissolved by rain, and a few bits of stray glass from broken bottles can be seen. Their phones and any other communication devices they possess all beep loudly, once, after the door slams shut.

Except... What door? When they next blink, while there's still a vaguely door-like outline, the concrete wall has changed; where the door was, there's a metal sheet, machined with faint circular patterns, seamlessly integrated with the concrete. Banging a fist on it produces a solid sound, as though the metal was at least an inch thick. Though there is a feeling of being watched in the alleyway, no one will approach until they leave it, not even a passerby walking the not-quite-yet-dark street at either end. Until they step out of the alley, it's as though they don't exist.

And there's a good amount of foot traffic passing the alleyway by. Though it tends towards people in a college student age bracket and people in a vaguely street punk sort of fashion with odd accessories, neither is an absolute rule by any rule. Following the flow of traffic leads to a run-down park that's mostly skatepark with a few picnic tables and a small greenspace that's been taken over for a dancefloor. The tables are covered in odd junk and there seems to be some trading going on.

Haseo and Ryoji will both have better knowledge of what the place is, and have standing invitations to the party that's starting up as the Sin-Eater trading post winds down.

Elsewhere: On a beach bordering the bay, a group of changelings holds a bonfire. Periodically, someone throws a papercraft skull into it with extreme prejudice; almost all the skulls are inhuman in some way, though the craftmanship of the paper-mache makes it difficult to tell at times. Those in the know have to be aware that such an overt display won't pass unnoticed by the Autumn King... But the tall and built woman who seems to be the center of the festivities shows no fear in the season of fear.

In the Residential District and even a few places in the Sixth, trick-or-treaters are as much a feature as they are every year. Children in costume run about with little concern for who they approach, while their parents maintain appropriate wariness from sidewalks or cars. A small group of children, however, galivants with no supervision - and there is something uncanny about the trio. It's best to give them a treat if they approach you, else you might find yourself the recipient of a cruel trick in return. Unlike the other trick-or-treaters, they're out and about well past midnight; nearly to dawn, in fact. When the sky begins to lighten, however, all three stop immediately in the middle of what they're doing and - with the sound of mad, fey giggling - bolt off in the direction of the farming district.

The prompts from the Test Drive also remain available for interaction.

The rest of the week:

Weather forecast: Though Halloween is a clear night, clouds steadily roll in for most of the rest of the week, hanging overcast in the sky with occasional breaks and sprinkles of rain slotted in. Mornings are foggy and chill, warming slightly in the afternoons but not varying all too much in temperature. Frost has yet to set in, though, making it possible to sleep outside if you have adequate cover, but it won't be very fun.

Moon Phase: The 30th was a New Moon, so Halloween's sky is decorated by a fingernail crescent that grows to almost a half moon throughout the week.

The Clean-Up: After Halloween, of course, everything must slowly go back to normal. Most folks clean up their own messes throughout the first morning of November, but shards of gutted and thrown pumpkins can be found most everywhere, and at the park where the Sin-Eaters partied, a lone Security Officer inspects the aftermath for signs of unusual activity. Aside from the remains of pumpkins, which are mostly left to rot, decorations vanish over the course of the week and all but a few are gone by Thursday morning.

The College: Though enrollment for the fall semester is over, the deadlines for winter are fast approaching, and there are a number of tables set up in a large area to entice prospective students. Most of them are manned by undergraduates, but the English program's table is staffed most of the time by a single Tired Professor with mousy brown hair. Occasionally, the Tech Student at the next table over takes pity on the man, bringing him a hot-chocolate to help warm his fingers.

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I. Halloween

Corwin remembers his last Halloween. He does. It was his first, and he'd spent it with his creator, first handing out candy to the children, then prowling the city listening to spirits and seeking out places to watch the celebrating humans. He'd found it all so fascinating, and a bit freeing, since everyone could go around with a mask and a costume and their aura of creepiness seemed to fit right in.

This year it feels different, and not just, he thinks, because he's doing those same things alone.

He has his lights on an decorations out on the little home he's renting, and is ready with his round, white mask and long, concealing cloak to hand out candy from a big, generous bowl when the children come by, and he enjoys seeing their costumes and their faces, doing his best to be gentle despite the aura of unnaturalness and his immense height at just over six and a half feet. But he's itching the whole time to be out and see what is so different this year, or if it's his imagination. For a being without a soul, he does still have quite an imagination.

When it finally gets to be too late for more trick-or-treaters, he shuts off the lights and goes out in his same costume, stopping by the Sin-Eater party, the changling beach bonfire, and a couple costume bars... but mostly he's drifting around the city, looking for something amiss. Whether he'll recognize it when he sees it, though, is anyone's guess. He was only born a year ago, after all.

II. The Clean-Up

After an hour or so to recharge at home just before dawn, Corwin is back out again, this time sans costume, to help the city with clean-up after all the parties. Now he's in a dark hoodie with the hood pulled up over his ragged hair, heavy pants that are slightly too short for his frame, heavier boots, and a city-provided reflective vest while he wanders the streets and parks plucking up litter and tucking it into his trash bag, or unwinding lights from a tree in the square, or lifting the shattered and gooey remains of a pumpkin from a playground into the nearest dumpster.

He's a little tired still-- one hour of rest and recharging really isn't enough-- but it's work, and seeing what people leave behind always fascinates him.

III. The rest of the week

Corwin's actual job is hardly any more glamorous than Tuesday's clean-up: he drives a garbage truck. So every morning from before dawn until a little past noon, he's out with the noisy thing, collecting people's trash and carting it back to wherever the odd city dumps it.

He's friendly if anyone happens to come out to see the truck, despite his creepy aura and decidedly ugly appearance, and he always keeps his hood up and sunglasses on. Nobody wants to see his white-less eyes and his ragged ears, or the occasional tears in his skin under his sleeves that leak darkness.

In the afternoon and evening, he settles somewhere to people-watch and try to learn something new: a bar, a club, a park... even though he might get distracted by attempting to lure a cat to his hand for scritches. Considering they all hiss at him, his attempts rarely bear fruit.

Edited 2016-10-30 17:53 (UTC)

She's not sure why she started tailing this guy. He seems to be about as out of place and aimless as her. Even more so, perhaps. She at least has the aim of keeping her head down and not being seen. But perhaps that is it, in a backwards way. A feeling of familiarity.

And, she has to admit after a while, he keeps finding interesting places. Marketplaces and bonfires (which she keeps a solid distance from) and many other things.

She stays outside the bars, but that is just as well - there is Kindred inside, she is certain of that one. But sometimes people will walk out and pass out without any help, and she can drink until she is full that way. Sure, she feels a bit light headed now, but who is she to frown on a full belly. And if she didn't have to worry about delayed reflexes and thinking, this feeling would even be nice. Things seem a bit less fearsome.

Almost all night, Corwin will have a fox following him, sneaking from shadow to shadow and ducking under bushes, doing her best to not being noticed. The fox will vanish an hour before sunrise ...unless of course Corwin notices and addresses her at any point.

A fox is not a cat-- Corwin is inordinately fond of cats, even though he can't usually get near enough to them to pet them-- but any animal coming that close to him still piques his interest, particularly a wild one that he catches sight of more than once. After the third time he spots the splash of red fur, he moves towards it, curious how close he can get before it runs away like most animals.

She had been elated when she took her animal forms for the first time and found one of them to be a fox. A fox, biggest predator of Denmark and very frequent urban wildlife. Nobody, she knew, would raise an eyebrow at a fox wandering around the city at night - much unlike wolves, the form that all other clans were limited to, or most fight forms that other Gangrel took. She hadn't been surprised, as it was the same form as her sire's, but she had still been quite happy. Being unobtrusive had been a something that she strove for even before ending up like she looked now.

She'd never wondered if a fox would be the same kind of unobtrusive in big cities elsewhere, but then she hadn't been around much and not been the greatest academic, either. Nor has she ever wondered if all humans were as aware of the presence of foxes in the city as her streetkid self had been. So she doesn't think that she might look in any way unusual now, sneaking around the city parts of Hex.

When Corwin turns around, she stills and stares at him, ready to bolt but not moving yet. He's not really approaching, after all.

And when she freezes like that, Corwin pauses, too... and then slowly crouches down to be closer to her level. He doesn't approach, but he does stick out a hand and murmur, "Are you hungry? Either there are more foxes in Hex than I thought there were, or you have been following me. I don't have food... but I could get some." He'd have to go back inside, but he could.

Not that he expects a fox to understand him. But he's always talked to animals, even when they're running away. A quirk his creator hadn't anticipated, but had always found amusing.

She isn't interested in food at all, she couldn't eat it anyway.

But... she's had more people talk to her today than she has talked to in months. It's overwhelming, and frightening, and ...nice. She has always been solitary, but that doesn't mean that she's a recluse. She didn't miss people while she was out and about in Lapland, but now that she's slowly working her way back up to the surface of being a person just how much she needed human-like interaction comes crashing back down on her. Friendly interaction, that is. She's been starving for that for years.

So she stays, nervous and ready to bolt but not shying away. Finally, she takes a half-step forward and sniffs that hand. Perhaps she can find out a bit more about this strange guy that way. As far away as she stayed before, the thousand smells of the city made it hard to single him out.

One thing Corwin has in spades is patience, so he holds very still-- unnaturally so, almost-- while she approaches and has a sniff. "You are more curious than I expected, little one. And more brave. I've never had a fox investigate me before."

He smells like mist and ghosts and death, and a little bit like garbage given his day-job, but also candy and alchemical reagents and a strange kind of fire that has no smoke. Though his body is human, technically, that smell is far less obvious than all the others. There's also an aura of something off about him, something unnatural, but his voice is soft and friendly, and he's making no move to try and touch her.

Corwin Gardener | Native (Promethean) | OTA

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