Waiting For Rain IC: Spring Slowly Comes

[Thanqol]

As they drove through the streets of Oregon City at three thirty am, images both familiar and alien passed them by; disconnected stories, worlds going on without them. Glimpses, moments.

The Solutions logo in green shined through the dark, amidst buildings with green striped paint. The municipal elevator's lights were on, lowering down the cliff at a sedate pace. A young man with dark skin and a labcoat walks by the side of the road, face illuminated by the glowing violet light of the phone he texts on.

One part of this city is still awake, alive; the nightclub. Called The Rodeo back in the day, three years ago changed to The Cage. Strobe lights and pounding electronic music soaked through the walls and thumped over the hum of the engine. Patterns of green and violet poured out onto the street. The dregs of the party were still outside, too drunk to stand, to dance, or to go home.

There, a young man stood on his toes to kiss a bearded trucker on the lips in an empty parking lot. There, a pale hand emerged from the rolled down window of a black limo, and beaconed - two girls stumbled towards it. There, a thin man in a black tuxuedo and bow tie lay slumped against a wall, nursing a bottle and a bloody nose.

The emotion would sweep through the car. Confusion. Forgetfulness. Release. Everything these people were normally, every rule that they had to live by, every pain and memory and duty was swept away. It was absolute catharsis. The joy of not having to think.

It wasn't anything like the moment of sorrow on the bridge, not a hostile, directed emotion. This was like a feast. Almost unconsciously, they would slow the car to drink a little more of it in as they drove through, but there was no imperative to stop. If they kept going the moment would fade into the rear view mirror and be lost.

[Deadly]

Charlene glanced passively, absentmindedly out at the city as it rolled by. She sat up a bit as they passed the nightclub, the Cage... the lights and pounding music stirred up old memories, memories of joy and other feelings she had not felt for years. She had been there, or somewhere similar perhaps, all those years ago. She watched the people of the night, watched the black limo and the two girls. She knew that picture well too, had seen it before. Far too common.

The alcohol too was a familiar sight, but not the sensation it brought. Charlene had never indulged in those particular tastes. She recalled what it was to lose herself in the music, in the dance, in the atmosphere and the people, or to lose herself in prayer and silent meditation, but it seemed so very different from what she observed in others, in the wild, irresponsible drunkenness. As the emotions rolled through the car she turned away, trying to focus on the memories and block out the confusion and forgetfulness.

[the_druid_droid]

As Isabelle drove through the dark, deserted streets, Jon pointed out the turns and side roads that would take them to his home on the outskirts of the city, but as they drew closer, anxiety knotted itself into a hard ball in his chest. He had no idea what he would do once he actually was home, and a thousand different and contradictory visions of his family’s reaction kept playing through his head when he tried to think about it.

***

Jon couldn’t say if he heard or felt the club first, but he did feel himself turn in the seat for a closer look as they began to drive past. A flash, almost subconscious, of jealousy passed through him then; the people outside weren’t worried, they weren’t facing an uncertain future, they were caught up in the effortless flow of the night and the music... Jon knew how that felt - not in a club, but out running - the world focused down into the bright spot of light and trail ahead, body moving perfectly in rhythm, effortlessly responding...

As Jon watched the people move and kiss and stumble on the other side of the glass, an ache grew to replace his fear. He wanted to go off, run away for a while - not forever, just long enough to find himself, organize his thoughts before he came home for real.

“I-I don’t think I we can go back now! I mean, it’s 3 AM... they won’t be expecting me... it’s too much for tonight. I need to sort things out, or...or talk to someone, just please - “ Jon blurted out the words, looking at Isabelle, then back at Charlene, hoping someone would understand and wondering if anything he did made sense anymore. The feeling swelled in his chest in time with the music - he wanted to run away.

[BlasTech]

“I-I don’t think I we can go back now! I mean, it’s 3 AM... they won’t be expecting me... it’s too much for tonight. I need to sort things out, or...or talk to someone, just please - “ Jon blurted out the words, looking at Isabelle, then back at Charlene, hoping someone would understand and wondering if anything he did made sense anymore. The feeling swelled in his chest in time with the music - he wanted to run away.

"W-what?" Isabelle replied sluggishly, her mind reeling from the combined effects of the party and a lack of sleep. She tried to focus, to pull herself completely free of that mire of emotion, but it was hard ... so very, very hard, to do much more than raise her head above its surface.

"If you're not going back now ... where are we going to go? Where can we go?"

[the_druid_droid]

Jon fought to slow his heart and clear his head, then tried again. “I...it’s just, I don’t know what I’m doing! It’s the middle of the night and if I go home now, they’ll ask me where I’ve been all this time and what happened, and I have no idea how to explain this,” he made a gesture that took in his tattered running outfit, his horns, the bloodstained seat and the truck, and even his companions. “I just...what am I supposed to do? I want to go home, but I’m not sure I can, and I don't even know if I get a choice, because we don't really have anywhere else to go...” Not even this truck is really ours, Jon remembered.

[Deadly]

"Maybe we can find a place to stay for a while, get our bearings and... work things out," Charlene suggested. She wasn't eager to return either, she had no doubt she would react with panic too if she thought too hard about it. "It is better than rushing in and making a terrible impression."

[BlasTech]

Jon fought to slow his heart and clear his head, then tried again. “I...it’s just, I don’t know what I’m doing! It’s the middle of the night and if I go home now, they’ll ask me where I’ve been all this time and what happened, and I have no idea how to explain this,” he made a gesture that took in his tattered running outfit, his horns, the bloodstained seat and the truck, and even his companions. “I just...what am I supposed to do? I want to go home, but I’m not sure I can, and I don't even know if I get a choice, because we don't really have anywhere else to go...” Not even this truck is really ours, Jon remembered.

"But ..." Isabelle said, suddenly anxious and ready to object further.

But what? But you need to go? But, you have to go?

She caught herself, unsure, but suddenly incabable of continuing the sentence.

Glancing at the side mirror she got a glimpse of her reflection against the light-streaked landscape; a lean, pale girl, but otherwise unmarred by her time in Arcadia. Not like Jon, and definitely not like Charlene.

She sighed, and pulled the truck over.

"No. No, you've always got a choice." She said. "I'm sorry if you thought I was pressuring you into going back right now ... it's just that ..."

Just what? She thought to herself. Just that if he could go back, that maybe it would be cakewalk for you? Selfish ... stupid ... it's not your decision to make.

"... nevermind" she finished.

"Maybe we can find a place to stay for a while, get our bearings and... work things out," Charlene suggested. She wasn't eager to return either, she had no doubt she would react with panic too if she thought too hard about it. "It is better than rushing in and making a terrible impression."

"Look." She said, shrugging, but not taking her eyes off the wheel. "I don't really know this city, not even before they took me. Just ... tell me where to drive and I'll take us there."

[Deadly]

"I don't know either," Charlene admitted quietly. "Maybe we can find a place to stay for a night or two, and find a way to earn some money. Maybe there's something in the car we can sell for a few coin, as a start."

[the_druid_droid]

“I...look, it’s three in the morning and we’re all exhausted. I know I can barely think straight after everything that’s happened...” Jon ran a hand over his face, trying to organize his thoughts. “Why don’t we find a place to park the truck and see if we can’t get some sleep. It’s not the fanciest bedroom in the world, but I don’t have any money for a hotel, and I wouldn’t feel right taking anything that isn’t ours to pay for one. Once I’ve had some sleep I’ll be able to figure out how to go back.”

Or you’ll just keep running... Jon tried to ignore the nagging thought; after all, he was just tired, wasn’t he?

[BlasTech]

"Right, do you know anyplace around here that might work? I don't think I could sleep if we parked here, too ... too much emotion out there right now."

It was true, the beat and the thrum of the club was still present, muted slightly by the distance but not yet gone.

[Deadly]

"It would be more of a loan than taking," Charlene felt the need to justify her suggestion. She wasn't a thief. "Just to get back on our feet, then we should return the car and pay him back. But if we can find a safe place to park, that's an good idea too." She didn't know the city, however.

[the_druid_droid]

Jon scanned the map for a moment, hoping things were still more or less like they were before his life had gone mad, and searching for a place he only vaguely remembered.

“Here it is! There’s an RV park just over here,” Jon pointed to a small symbol on the map, “if we... well, sneak in, and park the truck long enough to get some rest and think about what we’re doing, I don’t think anyone will mind.” After making the suggestion, he glanced hopefully at Isabelle and Charlene, a little embarrassed that his best plan amounted to living in a car until he found the courage to face his family...and see if they would take him back.

[BlasTech]

"It'll do I guess" Isabelle replied with a shrug. Ordinarily, she might have had more to say, maybe objecting to the RV site simply due to the risk of them being run out for not paying the fare.

Tonight, though, she was far too tried to think or act with such forethought. Her mind had only one real desire; to get to sleep and get this crazy day done with. Who knows, maybe she'd awake tomorrow only to find it had all been some strange dream ...

Then again, probably not.

[Deadly]

It was a plan, which was better than what Charlene could think of at the moment, so she just nodded and returned to silently stare out at the night outside the car.

[Thanqol]

The foremost hazard of sleeping in an illegally parked borrowed truck in the early days of spring was the cold. The car's heater was solid work and had served them well to this point, but when the engine was darkened and the lights turned out the chill would seep in through the glass and moisture would condense on the windows. By the morning, the group would be extremely dehydrated.

But, after moving some tools, leaning back the seats, and pulling some old coats out of the back, sleep would come shockingly fast. Exhaustion of the deepest kind just took over, when the mind stopped holding itself awake it sank like a stone.

Not home yet, but far enough to rest.

[Chapter Close. XP acquired:

1: Attendance
1: Dangerous situations
1: Roleplaying
1: If you can articulate something your character has learned or a way in which they've changed

Arcane XP (Can only be spent on Wyrd)
1: Encountering an Ogre
1: Encountering emotional manipulation magic]

[the_druid_droid]

When the truck had come to a stop in the RV park and room for sleeping had been made, Jon closed his eyes, half-expecting ghost images of the too-green forests and luridly bright flowers of Arcadia to flash before him - memories of a life that had been more than life for so long. Mercifully, the effects of exhaustion and his return to the mortal world conspired to overwhelm him, and he slept like a stone: the first night he’d managed to sleep so in what seemed like ages. For a few hours at least, all the worries about his family, the Hunt, money and his own fate were blotted out, and whether the morning would be full of hope or menace, only time would decide.

[Deadly]

Charlene closed her eyes and welcomed the sleep, the impressions and concerns of the night taking on a life of their own as her conscious mind let go. Neat rows of houses in the suburb, visions of people, so many faces behind windows, all familiar and yet so strangely alien, and one was missing. A phantom in the mirror, a face but not a face. Perhaps it had never been there.

Foxes chasing through fields, something on the hunt. A change of scene, more faces, more recent ones. Jon and Isabelle with their families, strangely familiar faces, unfamiliar feelings of joy; the hunt over, the nightmare banished... for a while.

Lonely streets. A slow, throbbing beat, a slender hand with long nails beckoning at two girls from a blackened car window. Its skin gray, its victims blind but for the lure of money. Soon the nightmare begins again, again, and again...

Charlene opened her eyes at the blinding rays of light, lifting a hand to shield herself from their warm, unbearable glow. The visions of the night still churned in her mind, more lucid now than the dreams of those bygone days before the nightmare. She couldn't go back... couldn't return to a life that wasn't hers. But perhaps through others she could find her way, find her own life, her own meaning again.

[BlasTech]

It took some physical effort for Isabelle to open her eyes when she awoke, in part due to the early hour. The misty haze of the false dawn surrounded the truck, obscuring the other vehicles nearby and making seem as if the three of them had parked in the middle of a cloudbank.

Sleep, when it had come, had come hard, and Isabelle felt like someone had taken a stick of glue to the inside of her eyelids. Groaning, she rolled over, letting in a chill burst of air through the crinkling folds of the worker's jacket she'd appropriated for a blanked.

She had to struggle to muffle the reflexive coughing that resulted from her poor choice of insulation. Thankfully, by the time her wheezing subsided, the others were still asleep. However, if the rasp to their breathing was any clue, their throats probably felt as raw as hers did.

She spent a moment hunting through the truck's cabin before she located an empty plastic bottle of appropriate size. Taking care to make as little noise as possible, she cracked the door and slipped out into the cold morning air.

Despite the late hour which they'd arrived last night, she'd made certain to pull in nearby the public restrooms that serviced this end of the caravan park. It turned out to be a fortuitous decision as, despite being only a few meters away, the restrooms appeared as only hazy shadows in the morning's mist.

Staggering, she shouldered open the wooden doors and managed to fumble the taps into providing a few mouthfuls of water. As she straightened, she caught a glimpse of her visage in the mirror above the sink. She had never been one of those “high maintenance” girls, who needed to spend hours in the bathroom before stepping outside, but neither had she been one to completely ignore how she looked. ‘Good enough’ had been her motto in that regard; enough to be presentable, but not so much as to be trying too hard.

Today, oddly, she found it very hard to feel bad about how she appeared. Despite the fact that with her dirty blonde hair and bags under her eyes, she looked like a tawny owl with a bad case of bed-head, she didn’t really care. In fact, she found herself smiling at the sight. Even though she looked horrible, she still thought she looked beautiful; no horns, no scars …

Her smile cracked, and she sighed as her mood fell.

Cleaning and filling the water bottle, she trudged her way back through the mist to the truck. If nothing else, at least she could make sure the others awoke to a fresh drink.

[the_druid_droid]

When morning came, it was the cold seeping into the truck that woke him. Jon shivered and rolled over in his seat, cold and suddenly very thirsty, but trying to put off the day for just a few minutes longer. He shut his eyes again, though sleep wouldn’t come; outside, the sounds of the early morning were growing louder - the buzz of insects and the soft creeping of warm, wary things through the undergrowth. As he listened to them in the stillness of the truck’s cab, Jon realized that the sounds seemed clearer than he remembered.

Because now you know what to listen for...

[Thanqol]

As he listened, someone rapped sharply on the windshield of the car. A sharp, brusque knocking, with no ceremony or pity.

"Licence and registration," came the dull, uninterested voice of a policeman with a too-fat neck and mirrored shades.

[Deadly]

Charlene remained lying in the back, trying to work up the courage to face the light. She could definitely use something to drink, but she would have to get up for that. They would also need to face the many questions of the day. Her heart skipped a beat and she instinctively held her breath at the appearance of the policeman.

"We'll become known criminals, hunted by the law..." suddenly that terrifying thought invaded her mind. "I can't be seen..." was the next thought. Something about the uniform, vaguely visible through the window from where Charlene lay, stirred up memories, a recognition. What if he recognized her? Somehow that seemed imminently possible in Charlene's half-panicked mind, as irrational and unlikely a thought as it was.

Charlene tried to remain still and avoid attention. Instinctively an urge to change face emerged. She couldn't be seen like this, couldn't become known as a criminal. She wasn't a criminal, but what wouldn't this man think?

[Don't know if I need to roll anything to not be seen for now]

[the_druid_droid]

The suddenness of the noise startled Jon, and he sat up in his seat, rubbing his eyes and trying to make sure the officer outside wasn’t some hallucination. Realizing that there was indeed someone standing outside the truck, he tried to recall the tips on police interaction he’d heard once at a Student’s League meeting, but it didn't look like the man’s patience would last long.

Rolling down the window, Jon tried to swallow and clear his throat, noting to himself that their vehicle was technically stolen, in addition to being illegally parked - charm was probably only going to get him so far...

“Morning officer,” the words came out raspier than he would have liked, but he kept going, “I’m sorry, but I don’t have my wallet with me, and I don’t own the truck. Can you wait until the driver gets back?” Suddenly, Jon was glad that Isabelle was nowhere to be seen - it might give him time to negotiate.

[BlasTech]

Isabelle froze ... there, near the truck was a black bulk of a shadow. Though the mist obscured most of its features, it seemed human. What was it doing? Trying to break into the truck?

Not on her watch.

She lept forward into the attack, yelling a battle cry that sounded something like "Hey! What do you think you're doing!" but which ultimately trailed off as she got close enough to make out the police uniform.

Awkward silence reigned for a moment.

"Oh, um ... sorry ... sir" She stammered, lowering the waterbottle. "I, er, thought you were trying to break into that truck"

Her brain, still in the process of deciding whether to be embarrassed or to panic, locked up for a moment leaving her both red in the face and wide eyed at the sight of a lawman in such close proximity to what might be taken for a stolen vehicle.

Still in the process of changing mental gears, her brain lurched forward like a car on the edge of stalling. Forget the truck, he was probably wondering what the heck a half-deer man and a bloody torture victim were doing in the driver's compartment!

[Thanqol]

"Uh huh," said the cop, showing no sign of reaction to the deer man or the torture victim. He was acting like this was the most boring part of a boring job. "Well, you can tell your 'friend' that his truck is illegally parked and I'm going to have to -"

He turned slightly when he heard Isabelle's shout. One hand lazily went towards a pistol in what was distinctly more a warning gesture than an actual intention to fight.

"... write you a ticket." he said eventually, turning back to his note pad with a 'whatever' shrug.

[There is a social roll of some kind to talk your way out of this. There is still plenty of time to stall to gather more information about the officer before you make a pitch. Once you decide on your approach a penalty or bonus will be applied]

[the_druid_droid]

OOC:

Spoiler

Show

Since I could spend either Willpower or Glamor to improve a Social roll (at least if it involves Presence or Manipulation), I figured I should find out when I need to declare that I want to. Basically, if you've already told me the roll modifier, is it too late? Also, if it is, how can I signal that I'd like to use a boost like that if things go south beforehand?

The policeman seemed uninterested in them, which was good, since it meant that he probably wouldn’t arrest them if things were handled well. On the other hand, most of the pointers Jon remembered for dealing with cops had been intended for situations that had degenerated to the tear gas and pepper spray level - he was going to have to make things up as he went.

Letting out a sigh he hoped sounded appropriately worried, Jon began to speak, trying his luck, “Geez...look, this is my brother’s truck, and he’s gonna be pissed if I get him a ticket. We borrowed it to come out and kick around for a few days - I grew up here, and I was telling her,” he gestured to Isabelle, “how nice it is when spring comes, y’know?”

A lot of the story was more or less true, and it didn’t look like the man had anywhere better to be; with that in mind, Jon hoped that he could derail the conversation into weather and local gossip until the officer warmed up to them.

[Thanqol]

"Oh yeah? You got family around these parts?" said the cop, looking up from his notepad for a moment.

[You can spend Willpower or Glamour at any time without consulting me. You declare that in the same post as you roll the dice]

[the_druid_droid]

“Yeah, I moved away from home a few years back. I was actually planning on visiting my folks while I was in town; I haven’t seen ‘em in way too long.” Jon brightened just a little as he said the words. It was true, after all, he had a family and wasn’t just some bum sleeping in a truck - he just needed to convince the policeman of that. Briefly, he glanced at the man’s chest, trying to find a name he could use to address the officer.

[Thanqol]

"Oh yeah? What are they called?" The officer asked. It was hard to catch a glimpse of, but on his badge was the name Brewewski.

[There's an opportunity to namedrop here, requires manipulation+streetwise to know this cop and who he'd toss the ticket for. Alternately, you could pick a known public figure and go for manipulation+subterfuge - something you can only attempt thanks to your dot in politics. You can pass both up and keep talking but this is a good opening.]

[BlasTech]

Her confusion growing by the second, Isabelle watched the ongoing exchange between Jon and the officer. Did he assume that Jon was just cosplaying or something? But ... he didn't even show any sign of noticing the 'costume' at all. Couldn't he see the two antlers on the head of the guy talking to him?

... Maybe he couldn't?

It ... might make sense.

[the_druid_droid]

Brewewski. Jon rolled the name over in his head; it didn’t ring any bells, but that probably meant he was just an average beat cop, which would explain why he was handing out parking citations at this hour. It also meant that if he really wanted out of the ticket and the trouble it would bring, he might be able to appeal to a higher authority.

For a moment, Jon hesitated - it was a big lie, but then again, none of them had ID and they were currently occupying a truck that was as good as stolen. Officer Brewewski didn’t strike him as being particularly likely to believe that fairies were the cause of it all.

“My family name is Swift. Dad’s a musician, he plays jazz at some of the local clubs, and my mom’s in business: she works as a liason for Mark Gottlieb, at Solutions. As for me, I’m just another college kid who forgot how much he misses home.” Jon had tried to let Gottlieb’s name slip casually, as though he were used to referring to powerful corporate suits in everyday conversation. He just hoped he wasn’t overdoing it...