if i stay here, trouble will find me

[unsanguine]

WHO: Hal Yorke and yoooooou
WHAT: One very nervous, very cranky vampire just got here and I don't want to subject everyone to another intropost; pls be gentle. (Or don't. Or don't.)
WHEN: Day 73, eveningish
WHERE: In/around the woods, but probably not far enough in to encounter direwolves or tigers unless someone wants that, and lbr it would be pretty great.
NOTES: Warnings for excessive prissiness.



By his own declaration, Hal cannot live anywhere without central heating, carpets, and Radio 4. So why he has decided to begin the investigation of his new and less than voluntary surroundings in the woods would be anyone's guess, except--he can't do this alone. He's almost sure of it. Has to find someone or something familiar, something grounding before he tips over into the inevitable itch in his teeth, the jagged scraping edges revealed when his routines are flipped on their backs.

To all appearances he's just a pale young man in perhaps his mid-twenties, black jeans and short sleeved black shirt, more buttons done than necessary--in fact that's his general ambience, expression on down, he looks buttoned up, and obviously new.

Also obviously not an outdoorsy person at all, given the faint to ...less faint disgust that blotches his features when he's obliged to like, touch a tree or something else repellant and gross. If Tom is to be found anywhere in this Godforsaken wasteland (which to be fair, that tiny corner of South Wales also was, hence its suitability as a hiding place for Hal) it will be in the woods, he suspects. Retreat to what is normal, that's what most people would do. Hal would take refuge in normalcy too, were it to be had, but he doesn't think he can click his pen or spin the trusty domino in his pocket a single time further without going absolutely mad.

Every sound makes him jump; he is not sure whether that's nerves or hope, the latter of which is surely one of God's little jokes.

Comments

well lucky for you someone is living in the woods like a dork

[theservant]

It's only Mordion's second day here, but he's setting up his camp well enough. He has had a lot of practice at it, to be fair. He's working on securing his tarpaulin into a suitable canopy when he can't help but pick up a living thing in close proximity. Well, almost a living thing? What is that, anyway.

He slows down his work, staying quiet but not obviously trying to hide. If whoever this is wants to walk by, he won't stop it. But it's not like he had much to hide from.

that's fine, hal will be living like a dork wherever he settles

[unsanguine]

Whether or not Hal is "living" falls under certain bizarre semantic definitions--strictly speaking, no, but then his heart does beat even if it's only about once a minute, he respirates and can eat and drink, what else is living, anyway?

Either way he doesn't so much walk by as he does lurch; he could be moving catlike, graceful, endowed with that by what he is, but ...he doesn't see the point. If whatever has brought him here has done it to kill him, he can't find much to argue with about that. What he senses in return, when he's close enough, is perhaps as strange to him as he was to Mordion--not a vampire, not a werewolf or a ghost, but something else.

Realizing he has come upon an encampment of some sort actually makes him light up, briefly, although this only serves to make him look even more repressed, as if smiling is a chore rather than a relief. It's just that if there are people staying in the woods, then--maybe this man isn't the only one.

"Good lord," he ...fails utterly at greeting, thank you Hal, "have you been banished from the village?"

His tone of voice suggests no one could be out here on purpose. Never mind that he is looking for a person who would be doing exactly that thing, Tom's choices rarely make sense to Hal anyway.

dork party

[theservant]

"We could say that I have." It's neither a yes nor no. Mordion is very skilled at those.

He looks the man over, half an eye still on his work so as not to arouse suspicion. His energy signature isn't like anything he's encountered - something dead but moving around. His heart's beating, he can hear it from here and the sluggish passage of blood through his veins, but it's off. Not to mention his body temperature.

He's knows better than to go nosing around in people's brains, now that he knows some people here can sense it. But at the same time he can't help but notice the age coming off him. Not as old as Reigner One or Two, but far more than he's seen in most living things.

This place really is giving him a headache.

there ain't no party like my nana's dork party--i'm not sorry at all

[unsanguine]

There they are a matched set, since Hal has yet to meet a single person whose makeup makes any sense to him. Then again he was already working himself into a festive migraine anyway, just for funsies. That and so he could complain about it later; Hal is happiest when he's miserable.

"Well." Awkward, party of Hal. The other man (what...ever he is) seems perfectly at home here, unlike his new conversational partner. "Have you seen anyone else in the vicinity? I'm looking for--a friend."

[theservant]

"If you mean in the woods, I'm afraid not. There are more than a few in the village, however."

He's still giving Hal an odd look, but doing his best not to look like it.

[undomesticated]

Riley had spent the late afternoon hunting; managing to catch a bracer of rabbits along with some kind of medium-sized reptile that was too slow to avoid a boot to the back of the head. She had them tied together and slung over her shoulder, all bodies dressed and ready for cooking. She might not be able to provide a cheesecake, but she could sure put meat on the table when it was needed.

She was walking quietly back through the woods when she picked up the strange scent. Strange because she'd never smelled anything like it before and strange because she wasn't certain what it was? A captor? A new crazy thing in the woods with an appetite for the residents? She slowed her footfalls, coming closer but keeping trees in between her and whoever, or whatever, it was.

i am REALLY BAD at past tense fair warning, i'll try not to lapse into present <3

[unsanguine]

The awareness of a new presence on his periphery brought out prickles on the back of Hal's neck at once; for a moment it was familiar enough that his heart attempted to surge into his throat, but--no.

Still, it was a signature he knew, or nearly, at least. He was becoming rapidly and unhappily aware that wherever he was, it was crawling with unknown elements, and he dealt with disruptions to the known about as well as he dealt with cockroaches. Which was to say badly, and wearing elbow-length gloves if possible.

He stopped stock still and cleared his throat. Helpfully. Whatever he could sense wasn't a werewolf, but it wasn't ...not, either, and he knew what their hearing was like.

If you slip into present, I'll match it. I'm just used to writing past.

[undomesticated]

She paused at the sound, recognizing it for what it was but not quite sure what it meant. Coming closer, she saw a figure and she stopped beside a tree, ready to bolt or climb it if she needed to.

"Can I help you?"

Because he might not be an evil scientist or have any involvement with them being here. It wasn't like new people didn't just crop up all the time.

I shall do my best!

[unsanguine]

The sound Hal made in response to that was probably not one fit for polite company, although he recovered after a second with a visible straightening of shoulders and more appropriate posture for talking to a ~lady. Manners. Somewhat hilarious given his general demeanor and affect were probably best described as bitchily awkward, but then the second was still fully in place. He looked about as appropriate in the woods as he would have on the stage in the middle of Swan Lake.

"Possibly," he hazarded, one hand disappearing into a pocket to re-emerge with a single worn domino. It flipped over and over between his fingers without seeming consciousness, although that was deceptive--he was counting; the number of flips had to be even. There were other rules too, that was just the most easily quantifiable. "Are you--you're not a werewolf."

....yes, thank you Hal. His voice and expression weren't hostile, though, just confused. Wistful. "You're something else. I'm a bit out of my depth here."

There was something resembling a laugh there, although it was mostly just another meaningless noise, this one of self-defense. "A bit doesn't begin to cover it."

[undomesticated]

She glanced up at one of the cameras looming over them, a frown on her face as she came closer. "I don't know what you're talking about." Another pointed look at the camera before she looked back at him. There were hunters in town and the last thing she wanted was to be outed. Even if Brigid had said one was okay, Riley still hadn't met them and she was holding her own judgment for that occasion.

The scent was definitely coming from him, something different than what she was used to. Not human, then. Not if he could pick up on her being something that had fur. So he was familiar with werewolves, but not any cats? Figured. No one was familiar with cats, it seemed.

"Did you just arrive here?" She could pick up the confusion, eyes moving to the flash of something moving in his hand. White and rectangular. Was that a domino?

[rulebreaks]

[Buffy is just... wandering along, stake at the ready. It's not so easy to get out of patrol mode, and she was pretty sure in this place it was a good idea anyway. Even if it wasn't a job for Mr. Pointy, he was security blanket-y. That's just how it was.

So anyway, this is the part of the movie where Hal is wandering, and Buffy is wandering, and somehow they walk into each other kind of backwards.] --Woah! You are. Um. I so didn't see you. Sorry, Queen of the klutzes that's... me. [She quickly hides the stake behind her leg, trying for a smile though it comes out uneasy as fuq]

ah, using this icon. /good times/

[unsanguine]

Hal may or may not catch a glimpse of the stake, it's largely immaterial in the face of the context surrounding it. He senses Buffy just before she actually breaks into his vicinity, and the hairs go up on the back of his neck--not a vampire, not a werewolf or a ghost--and he's becoming if not used to that at least less surprised, but this is different. Dangerous and old.

Not a vampire, but more like one than anything else he could name.

Something dark and endless (like him), and by the time Buffy has gotten to her apology he's drawn back, eyes blown to black and lips skinned back, vibrating with predatory wariness, the tension in his body heightening to something new; it would be vibrantly alive, except that it's ...clearly dead.

lmfao it never doesn't make me laugh

[rulebreaks]

[That brings the stake right back out. It's instant. But is he even... a vampire...? He seems. Alive. That can't be right.]

Woah there, monster-guy. Or. Whatever you're supposed to be. [She's edging closer, trying to give him limited places to go.] Put the fangs away and we can discuss--calmly, like adults--if I'm going to kill you or you know, not.

it is /flawless/

[unsanguine]

Once Hal's gotten over what amounts to a totally paralyzing spate of shock and confusion his eyes and teeth return to normal, expression stricken. That wasn't supposed to happen, he's supposed to have better control than that. After 500 years it certainly ought to be the case, but he's in a situation that makes absolutely no sense to him and cut off from all the things that make anything resembling a normal life possible.

She's still pinging his senses in impossible ways, and as much as he tries to defy what he is by nature those instincts still exist; his nerves stay at a high jangling pitch. He should run, or at least prepare to defend himself, but--

But there doesn't seem to be much point to the idea. If he fights he's going to lose, or worse, he's going to win, and then what does he do after that? Every reason he'd had not to just pitch himself onto the nearest wooden object is somewhere impassably far away.

He realizes after a second of delay that the sound he's making is ...probably a laugh. "That won't be necessary." His hands drop to his sides and his shoulders drop; bizarrely it's probably the first time since they happened upon one another that he's looked---well, looked relaxed. "Go on. I won't stop you. In fact you'd be doing me a favor."

no u r

[rulebreaks]

[Boffy is just going to be blinking over here. And maybe it's because he seems relaxed, or because she can't sense vampire on him at all, that her hand goes limp, stake hanging uselessly by her side. The Slayer was screaming kill it but this place didn't make sense yet. She couldn't know what the repurcussions could be. Maybe Hal was like Oz, maybe he had no control over this... thing. But if Oz had then maybe this guy could too.

In any case, he didn't seem dangerous. Not more dangerous than she could handle. Not for the moment.]

...That's not what I'm used to hearing, you know. Usually it's all with the quipping and the fighting before we get to the begging for mercy stage.

[hark_and_hush]

Ruby's learned to be quiet in the forest, not silent, but quiet enough. She takes slow, careful steps as she slips through the trees, looking for deer.

She doesn't find a deer, though. Instead, she finds a man looking more than a little unhappy about being here at all.

"Are you lost?" She approaches him from the side and and as her voice breaks through the quiet din of woodland creatures and woodsy noises, she hears something not far off scurry for some sort of cover. At least it sounds like a rabbit and not a deer.

[unsanguine]

Thank God a werewolf Hal ...absolutely does not say, because one does not simply out a person like that until at least his second sentence. "Not as such," he manages to string together, coherently. "That would require having any idea where I might go to be found."

His eyes flick briefly to where the rabbit scurried off; it should probably be given credit for spectacular evolutionary intelligence, given its proximity to two Big Damn Predators of varying degrees. "I'm looking for someone. I don't suppose you've seen a young man in an army jacket? You'd probably have only understood every third word he said, but he'd have been--kind, regardless."

[hark_and_hush]

Smiling a little, she shakes her head. "I haven't seen anyone else out here in a few hours." And she can't smell anyone, either.

"Have you listened to your little thing?" She nods her head towards his communicator. "Your friend might not be here at all. Some of us have been stuck here for a while."

[unsanguine]

As seems to be the norm for him this evening, Hal's expression slowly collapses like a flan in a cupboard. "No, I suppose it was too much to hope that he would be. You'd know if you'd met him, he's--"

He fiddles vaguely with one hand, attempting to come up with some veiledly polite way to say this, and then decides he really does not care to create any more delicate euphemisms. "He's a werewolf."

Go on, try to tell him he is insane! It would fit in with the way his night is going.

[hark_and_hush]

She stands up just a little straighter, tense. She's not used to people being so forward about things like that, even here. She'd asked Gwydion what he was before he'd said anything to her.

"And how would I know a werewolf from a regular person?" Playing dumb about this is just second nature at this point. She can smell something off about him, but that doesn't mean that he knows what she is, does it?

[enchangement]

It's possibly a little silly for River to check up on Ned's tiny garden when she knows that he'll do it himself; however there's something to be said for the comfort of the familiar and the reminder of that one perfect evening when they were both so happy. It helps to press out the confusion of new people and her own nostalgia for voices she's more in tune with.

She'd started to dream that members of the crew of Serenity, living and otherwise, had arrived in Cape Kore. She doesn't know if it is just a dream or a desire or a fear or all three. Maybe she just is homesick. Maybe she is just afraid that they won't go home, or they will and suddenly the little family she's tried so hard to build will be scattered amongst several small infinities and she'll never see them again. What would be better? What would be worse?

Lost in the small universe in her head she doesn't really pay much attention to the new person interacting with other people and things until he approaches closer to Ned's bower ...then she freezes in place, her head filled with the grief and screams of countless deaths over centuries.

She claps both hands over her face in an attempt to chase those images away, to fill them with anything else, and of course what it settles on are the faces of the people that the man is looking for.

Despite the fact that he isn't looking in her direction she knows he knows she's there, so: "Your friends haven't arrived. Apologies, perhaps, but perhaps for the better. There isn't a consensus."

[unsanguine]

Hal has, to be fair, had many a person react to him this way and for good reason, but--it's been quite a long time, and then he'd liked it, it had sent a ripple of power through his sluggish blood, knowing it would soon be quickened by just the person who had been foolish enough to show him their fear.

Now it just makes his stomach turn over. It's as if she's seeing through him, rather than just looking at him; if blood running cold was an expression that applied to Hal in any but the most literal and constant sense, he'd have felt that. He is most certainly looking in her direction by this point.

"I'm sorry?"

Better to engage in polite conversation, rather than shaking her by the shoulders and demanding what she knows. He doesn't do that anymore, isn't that anymore.

At least he doesn't want to be.

[enchangement]

"Are there only three kinds where you're from? No one who can see the past written on a soul?" River gives a full-body shudder before drawing in a breath. "It doesn't matter. You are sorry, behind us and beyond us and we won't discuss it.

Your friends, however, the boy with the scars and the soft smile and the woman who has died and is living again, almost corporeally, they aren't here. Would have noticed, would have heard. But a promise, I'll make a promise to you now: if they do, I will tell you, and I will tell them, and you'll be centered and stable and a whole thing again."

She looks away, running one of her hands over a random flower near her knee. "Nice to meet you, Hal."

[unsanguine]

Hal ...gapes a while, head tilted, brows attempting to decide whether or not they want to escape from his face entirely. "I--"

He's moved, for one thing, barely beating heart doing its best to skip, or stop, or any number of other things it can't do. Those reactions, figurative or literal, tend to be reserved for hearts in human chests. "I've only the barest idea what you're talking about," he decides upon, eventually, since that is both true and at least a modicum of politeness. "But I do appreciate--er. The effort."

A whole and centered and stable thing, he imagines, suddenly wistful and looking now as if he might be considering smiling, his face just isn't quite sure how to reach the expression. "Tom and Annie? The three like us?"

Excuse him, he's ...parsing slowly.

[enchangement]

"Three like you. Tom and Annie and Hal. The first and most important prime number. Perfect triads, perfect for balance; three legs stabilizes an object while four makes it immovable and two tends to topple to one side or the other. Three, san to sheng, past, present, future, three observational spatial dimensions, the triple codon system." River's face lights up the further she goes in, the fear and shock from earlier dissipating like fog under the heat of a noonday sun. "Three canals for balance, in the ear, three main galaxy classifications ...oh three is a good number. Can't complain too much then that there are no real psychics.

Here," and she says this as if she's conspiring with Hal a bit, slightly bent in his direction and stage-whispering, "there are more. One, two, and many. Not as simple and balanced as where you're from."

A shrug as she straightens herself up. "Most people only have the barest idea and it is still uncertain who adapts more quickly, she or they. So you may get used to it, the way I speak, or I may learn how to say things easier for you to hear and follow. Don't feel bad. Not a flaw on your behalf."

She smiles, softly. Yes, Hal has done terrible things but he is also fighting it every step, every moment. She can admire that. She can't do that at all, herself. "Would you like mint? Do you drink tea? Coffee is not always easy to find."