kore_logs | (no subject)

Who: Oliver and whoever's in the mood
When: Day 65
Where: In and around town
What: Ollie just needs to get out and about. Anybody who'd like to run into him is more than welcome.

He's tired of being cooped up in his attic and he can't stand to sit still for very long anywhere else in the house with the way that the quiet ticking of the clock grows ever louder in his ears, echoing in his skull. Reasonably, Oliver knows that he isn't being watched from there. The strategically placed cameras to which he's slowly beginning to grow accustomed are a blatant reminder of that. But still. Old habits.

It still hurts a bit to walk but he has otherwise mostly healed from his battles prior to arriving in this town. Walking (or limping) around the place, he supposes, will not only help to clear his head but is probably also good for rehabilitating his injury. So, early in the morning, he tugs his flat cap down a bit to block the rising sun from his eyes and begins. He has half a mind to drop in on Charles at some point in the day but that is about as close as he gets to having any purpose save shaking off his restlessness.

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Unfortunately for Oliver, Gabriel's out and about too. Even worse, now that he's no longer human, he's obnoxiously chipper and frankly he's abusing his powers. It's understandable, in a way; he's not used to being weak and human and powerless, so he's making the most of being nigh-omnipotent again, but nevertheless it's more than a little irritating.

Perhaps if he kept to himself, it wouldn't be so bad... so of course, he does the opposite. When he sees Oliver limping along, he considers it his civic duty to go and try to cheer him up. Or, more likely, to amuse himself at Oliver's expense, but he figures it's close enough.

"Howdy, stranger. Nice hat. Very, uh, farmer-chic."

Oliver raises his eyebrows. He has no particular inclination toward wariness at the moment, though he's still getting used to the idea that speaking with strangers is a perfectly normal activity. Back home, it was always a worry that any stranger could be reporting every word back to someone far more dangerous than themselves.

"Is it?" He smooths the top of the cap out of habit, as if brushing something away. "Having never seen a farm myself, I wouldn't know."

"No? Keep it that way, if you can. They're boring and they smell bad... kinda like my brother."

A casual grin, intended to be disarming - he almost certainly doesn't mean it, and joking's generally a good way to get a friendly conversation going, right? It's that or lie, in Gabriel's experience-- or, well, definitely lie and probably joke too, generally at someone else's expense, which may explain why he doesn't have a lot of friends. Still, Oliver doesn't need to know what a dick he actually is, not just yet.

"So, who're you?"

Having proper feet, and toes, and the ability to wear pants, are all rather nice, but Wallie's decided today's a good day to spend sitting on the step of his house, whittling away at an interesting chunk of wood he found in the woods.

His house is just on the end of the main street, too, so it's not hard to see someone wandering about. He raises a hand in greeting when he sees Oliver.

While he is unused to being hailed or welcomed by strangers, Oliver is coming to appreciate the freedom of it. As such, he responds with a smile and a raised hand of his own, slowing his pace until he comes to a stop by Wallie's step.

"Seems a pleasant day," he says by way of proper greeting.

"No complaints from me." Wallie grins easily. Honestly, there's more than a few things he could complain about, but on the whole it's as nice a day here as he could hope for. "I'm Wallie. Have a seat, if you want to."

He gestures to the step beside him with his knife.

He's been focusing on keeping his power at a low ebb as though even hearing other people brings up the taste of Ned's blood on his tongue. He walks and he tunes out everything else - does his best to pretend he is human at all costs. The cape is beautiful which is awful. Beautiful things tend to hide a level of violence, he knows that better than anyone. Still, some things leak in. Charles' mind is like a dam and anything can jar it.

He can't ignore the low level of pain coming off Oliver and he deviates from his path to come across him.

"Oliver."

He offers up a smile - less of his usual beam but genuine, "You're outside. Are you all right?" He had been interesting to speak with, and he sparks up a level of curiosity that Charles doesn't really want to fight. It makes him feel normal.

It's a pleasant surprise to find a somewhat familiar face without having to actually look for it in the end and Oliver returns the smile with a nod of greeting. "Charles."

His smile grows ever so slightly as he laughs at the question. "Do you ask because of the preceding statement or...?" Pausing to let his words trail off, he turns his eyes upward, squinting slightly at the still-foreign existence of sunlight. "I was growing a bit claustrophobic. A change of scenery seemed in order." Here he would usually ask after his companion's well-being but, given what little he knew of recent events, perhaps it was best he not.

"The houses do tend to get a little ... overbearing sometimes."

Especially now his is empty. He doesn't like the silence and tends to grow maudlin left to his own devices. With the past few days he doesn't want to give himself any opportunity to brood. "Do you mind if I walk with you?"

"Mine has recently taken to reminding me a bit too much of home." The dark, the clutter, the clock-- He hardly knows how to handle daylight and birdsong, as such, but nature is a perfect distraction.

Oliver nods. "I would be glad for the company, I think."

Falling into step beside Oliver is easy. Charles has his hands in his pockets and the sleeves of his too big shirt hanging over them but he doesn't care, just cocks a head in his companion's direction. He knows very little about Oliver's home world but that doesn't mean he isn't naturally curious.

"That sounds rather dire."

He offers a smile, a small joking kind of thing.

Oliver laughs. It's a quiet sound, tinged with bitterness, even though he continues softly smiling. "It is a bit. Was. My home was-- ah, in turmoil before I found myself here. I can only pray things have improved."

He walks with no real purpose, hands clasped behind his back, and pauses in his speech before laughing again, this time more absently amused. "Perhaps I would pray if I believed in such things."

"I wouldn't bother with that, I've run into an angel or two since coming here and they don't seem all that interested in listening to pleas."

Charles doesn't believe, per say, but he can hardly ignore the very real existence of them on the island. "Save your energy."

"So noted." It's not hard for Oliver to believe in angels but, then, he had no choice but to believe in gods - very angry, dangerous gods.

"I've never known a creature supposedly answering directly to any form of god that was particularly interested in helping others," he admits, eyeing Charles sideways. "Cloaks, we called them. I cared little for their ways and they cared little for mine."

He hums thoughtfully, clearly absorbed in whatever Oliver is saying and what he might say. It's the scientist in him that burns away all normal social attitude and makes him want to know.

"Well at least I can't offend you with my blatant disregard for religion then; that's good to know."

(no subject)

sorry about gabriel, he's a berk

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