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Who: Rook and OPEN
What: New arrival wandering through the districts
Where: All the districts except for Astralfield and Whitewood. Just include in the subject line where you'll be running into him!
When: April 9th
Warnings: Language, thus far

Lochwell

[Well fuck. Just. Fuck. If it wasn't one thing, it was another, wasn't it? He went from having th'Esar breathing down his neck for so long to now having this bitch telling people what to do. Like she could, like he would listen. How the fuck did he even get here? One minute he'd been about to pitch Have's soul off of the rooftop, the next he was wherever the fuck here was. Except, at least, Have's soul was still in his hands, beautiful and heavy, and right now there was nothing to pitch it off of so he guessed he was going to have to hold onto it real good and tight, make sure that no one got the bright idea to try and take it from him.

He shook his braids back from his face and tucked the dragonsoul under his arm, against his side, like it wasn't a bit of a struggle right now with how he was injured. He kept it close, freeing a hand in case he needed to stab someone. You never did know. Especially not with his girl, with how she tended to attract attention. The dragonsoul was the size of an infant, glass with two metal bands wrapped around it, holding it together. The metalwork was intricate, cogs and bits of polished wood, its insides had all sorts of little gold gears and mechanisms, all with a dark red liquid swirling against the glass. He was going to have to cover that up.]

Mallowhallow

[As if it wasn't bad enough that everything was made of pillows, a lot of things seemed to be pink on top of that and what the fuck was everyone wearing? Was this place for real, how fucking bell-cracked did you have to be to seriously build a place like this?

He sneered at any of the locals who happened to look at him too long, or stare at Have's soul. Just let them come a little closer and try to touch it, he'd show them just how much of a bad fucking idea that would be. Bad for them, at least.

He got something to wrap around the dragonsoul before he left the district, whatever passed as shirts for these people, and wrapped it up good and well around Havemercy's soul, hiding all of the bright glass and polished metal.]

Orlea

[Well, this reminded him a little more of home. It wasn't made of fucking pillows, at least. Then again, Thremedon wasn't much of a home anymore, not when it didn't hold anything for him anymore except memories, and he wasn't needed. And Rook wasn't exactly the most sentimental person. Sentiment had nothing to do with why he hadn't smashed the soul yet. He was just looking for the best place to do it.

He stuck out less here, where the people were at least dressed in normal clothes and not pillows, but he still stuck out. Mostly because of how pale he still was, all wrapped up in bandages under his clothes, which were still different than the locals around him, and, oh yeah, the bundled up soul in his arms, shifted around every now and then when it got too heavy to carry one way or another. Fuck if he was going to put it down anywhere though, didn't trust someone not to do something stupid.]

Crystalden

[Bright, obnoxious, full of lights and people. It was kinda interesting, in an infuriating sort of way. The people were dressed just as brightly and obnoxious as all of the flashing lights on the buildings, and now it was his turn to stare while the locals generally ignored him. If Thom was here, Rook was sure he'd be talking his jaw off right about now. He would have something to say about everything, Rook could have bet on it. He almost kind of missed it.]

Highcrest

[Home sweet home. At least, this was where they'd told him he was supposed to go. He'd been listening even if he hadn't been caring. He'd also gone where he'd wanted to go before eventually wandering here. Sure, so so much wandering around probably wasn't good for him so soon after everything that had happened, and his side and chest was aching, but he'd never let it stop him before and he sure as fuck wasn't going to start now.

This place wasn't really much to look at, but that just didn't make it much different than some of the other places he'd been to before. It was simple, without all of those ridiculous fucking frills that some of the other districts had. There wasn't any pillows or obnoxious bright lights, some of the pubs reminded him of the shadier places he'd visited back in Thremedon, and there were even a few brothels that he would have to take a stroll into when he was feeling up to it. When the only girl on his mind wasn't Havemercy. For now, he guessed, he'd find someplace to crash.]

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Balfour was, as had become habit, wandering around Orlea once more. He was almost always in this city section, despite the fact that he lived in Mallow Hallow, in a pillow house all his own. He had gotten used to faces appearing out of nowhere, or disappearing just as quickly. He didn't pay much attention to anyone, here, anymore.

He had just glanced up when he saw that familiar face. His whole body froze, half fear, half relief because someone from home. But then it was Rook, so he knew that he was better off not knowing someone here if Rook was his only option.

So he just stood there, staring in utter shock at the pale, ragged man, debating whether to go to him and help him and risk getting his throat slit--because Rook was nasty on a good day, but he was horrible when he was wounded or otherwise weakened--or to disappear in the crowds.

Too late. Too late, Rook had already seen him.

One of the last people that he had expected to see around here was fucking Balfour. Wasn't he supposed to be in Thremedon doing whatever the fuck it was he did now? Then again, Rook had been interrupted from things too, and he was sure as shit that that was Balfour over there, gaping at him like he'd seen a ghost or something. If it wouldn't have hurt so much, Rook would have started laughing, but more pain would have been all he needed to improve his mood. Instead he strolled over.

"It fucking figures that I end up who the fuck knows where, and I've got you for company." In other words, what the fuck is this place, what do you know.

Oh, what he would have given for a trap door to take him to depths unknown right now. Balfour offered a wary grin and shrugged.

"Well, I must admit that I feel the same way," he said softly, glancing down only briefly. Rook didn't have the rest of his cronies here, so it was much less likely that he would end up beaten around quite the way he had been in the Airman.

"Though I am rather relieved that I know someone here. I'm...still not sure why I'm here." Or Rook. "Guess it's some weird afterlife, or I would if it weren't for the other stories I've heard."

Rook grinned, just a hair shy of actually pleasant. He figured the feeling was mutual, after everything they'd put Balfour through. Woulda been something wrong with him if he was glad to see Rook.

"Yeah, not dead," he snorted, "not like the others." He cocked his head to the side, shifting the dragonsoul a little to carry it more comfortably. "Now, I could figure why they'd want me, but why the fuck would anyone want to kidnap you?" Unless Balfour had become a lot more important suddenly, somehow.

Balfour chuckled, honest to god chuckled, when Rook pointed out that he wasn't very interesting.

"You do have a point, but I don't think they care much what we're worth," he said with a shrug. Financially, Balfour was worth much more than Rook, given his family funds--if one assumed his parents would actually pay--but Rook was much more interesting and seemed much more important. He just had that air.

"Who else?" he couldn't help but ask. Who else was dead or who else was alive, he wasn't sure which he was asking. But he wanted names.

He also wanted to know what the hell Rook was carrying, but he knew better than to ask.

"Then what else do they want us for?" If it wasn't because they were worth something or because someone wanted the dragonsoul, then...why?

And who else what? The hell was he even asking for, didn't he already know? They'd all been there. "Why're you even asking, you were there, you know." And that-his gaze flickered down to Balfour's hands, lingering a moment before he looked back up.

"Who the hell knows," he grumbled with a shrug. He couldn't help wondering now that it had been brought up. He'd been here for a few weeks, and yet he hadn't once questioned why he was here. He had been too caught up in the wonderful feelings of being wanted and liked, especially wanted and liked for himself.

And then Rook asked that. He shifted, rubbing his wrists involuntarily, and looked away from the man.

"The last thing I remember is Anastasia," he whispered. "I remember that-that we crashed...and pain...and that's it."

He wasn't exactly surprised that Balfour didn't know, a little irritated, but not surprised. If there hadn't been something a little more important to worry about, he would have commented on that, but as things were, he dropped it. For now.

"You don't know anything after that?" Really? "The fuck's up with that?" Oh, he was going to tell Balfour, he was just trying to understand why he didn't know what he'd already lived through. Unless everything had fucked him up more than Rook had thought.

She's walking around Orlea, shopping, picking up odds and ends for sewing. She needs to hit up the blood bank, but that's last on her list considering her cargo will need immediate refrigeration. She's got a wicker basket over one arm, which she finds rather quaint, and she's window-shopping when she catches the reflection of someone awfully pale passing by behind her. Porrim turns quickly.

"Are you a rainbow drinker?" It's a forward question to be asking a total stranger, but then again she's never been shy.

When he caught sight of her, he had to do a double take. Just when he thought he'd seen just about all of the strange shit in life, something came up to surprise him. He wasn't sure if this beat a couple of sick bastards trying to piece Havemercy back together or not, but it was still weird as fuck.

"What the fuck are you? And the fuck's a rainbow drinker?"

[It's not like she hasn't heard this before, looking as different as she does, but she still flinches a bit.]

I'm a troll. And a rainbow drinker is someone who thrives on blood.

[Rook has no manners :| None at all. He even flunked sensitivity training.]

The fuck's a troll? And I ain't no damn vampire if that's what you're asking.

[He just happened to take a knife between the ribs recently. And a whole lot of other scrapes and bruises all over.]

[She crosses her arms, growing a bit defensive at his tone.]

I'm an alien, fuckass. It's my species. And there's no need to get so offended.

[Offended? Nope. Why would he be offended because someone asked him if he was something that doesn't even exist? No, he's never seen a vampire, why would he? Now, call him a Cindy, and he'd be threatening her at knife point already, most likely.]

I ain't offended. Just stating the truth. [He shrugs.] Never seen any aliens before though. [Still not sure if he believes it, even.]

[Little does he know, he has seen a vampire, and she's standing right in front of him. This is just a day of firsts. Porrim softens, just a little bit.]

Well, now you have. From a different planet, and everything.

No shit, I never would've guessed that an alien was from a different planet. [Isn't that what aliens are? Or what they're supposed to be. Normally he'd shrug this off as bullshit, but he was kind of staring right at the proof.

He shifted the bundled up dragonsoul from one arm to the other, eyeing her up still.]

Why'd you ask if I was a rainbow drinker? [That or vampire, they both sound ridiculous to him.]

No need to be sarcastic. [Her tone's returned to neutral, perhaps a little wry now. She watches him shift whatever's in his arms, curious, but it's difficult to tell what she's looking at with her blank white eyes.]

You looked a bit pale, is all. [She smiles, showing rows of sharp white teeth.] Though I suppose your kind would call it a 'vampire.' Less variety in the human hemospectrum.

[There was always a need to be sarcastic, if you asked Rook. It was just the way he was.]

Pale is what happens when a man just about bleeds out all over the desert. Ain't nothing to write home about, though.

[Yeah, totally no big deal. He's been through worse. More painful, at least.

Hemo-what? He has no idea what that's supposed to mean.]

You were bleeding? [She's almost a little too interested in that, and she switches gears quickly.]

I'm sorry to hear that. You're fine now, though, right?

Yeah. Ain't like it was nothing new though. [Same shit, different day for an airman. Well, ex-airman.]

Just fine. Nothin' to worry about.

[She pulls her shopping basket a little closer, adjusting it as it becomes a bit too heavy for the crook of her elbow.]

Good. I had to stitch someone up, actually, the first day we were here. So many of us come in injured...it's bewildering.

Be stranger if everyone was just fine, wouldn't it?

[Makes sense to him. Whatever anyone was doing before they were brought here, some injured-like him-some not. Nothing strange there, aside from the kidnapping.]

Terezi smelled something delightfully pale and glittery, and tracked the scent around a pillow-house. She found it - human and metal, bright and sharp and golden-clear. She paused and snuffled, before wandering fearlessly up to the human in question.

Terezi was slender and not very tall at all, even given her slim tapering candy-corn horns. She stood tall and straight, grey skin gleaming under the sunlight, short black hair lightly mussed from earlier romping around. She wore a black T-shirt and jeans, and red sneakers. She tapped her dragon-headed red-and-white blind man's cane in front of her as she went, snuffling along with the scent. The red lenses of her glasses his her blind burnt eyes.

"Well. You are a new human here, aren't you?"

Well. What the fuck was this? Not just the strange whatever the fuck this woman was, but the fact that she was fucking sniffing out his dragonsoul. He shifted it under his arm, possessively, protectively, and narrowed his eyes. His other hand was free, ready to reach for one of his knives if he needed to.

"Yeah, I am. The fuck are you?" Blunt and to the point, as was typical of Rook.

"I," said Terezi with grand importance, "Am a troll. My name is Terezi. What's yours? And what have you got? It smells crackly and sharp."

Like electricity or static, buzzy and tingly. Terezi stepped closer and leaned forward, scenting like a cat in short, sharp huffs of breath drawn through her nose and mouth. Her breath hissed lightly over her fangs.

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