[log] a little snowhell oasis [closed]

Entry tags:

[log] a little snowhell oasis [closed]

Characters: Clayton, Enoch, and Greed
Location H11, house 59
Date: Early evening of day 029
Summary: Clayton and Enoch are headed east, Greed is headed west. Their paths intersect and shenanigans happen.
Warnings: Usual snowhell stuff, prooooobably some talk of amputation/other injuries

[The trip from the empty house to this ramshackle billiards room in the middle of a rubble-strewn wasteland was not a long one, but it's still taken a nontrivial amount of time to get there. This isn't great; it's a small place with nowhere comfortable to sleep and rarely anything useful inside it, in Clayton's experience, so he would much rather move on to the nice house with the rooftop hatch and get another refill on his and Enoch's water rations. All things considered, though, he supposes it could be worse--there could be nothing left of the house that used to stand here and the two of them could have been locked out for the night. As usual, Clayton is determined to keep a positive light on this.]

[Considering the circumstances, this is becoming more and more of a chore to do. They're both running quite low on food, and while Clayton has recovered enough from his bit of impromptu surgery several days ago that he can basically walk on his own without too much pain, his sense of balance is a little off, and shifting all of his weight to the side of his foot is starting to make it cramp up something fierce. Staying positive is difficult. Thankfully Clayton is a patient man and in good company, and as the lonely pillar of walls comes into view through the hazy mist of snow ahead, Clayton's mood improves drastically. He laughs in relief.]

'Bout time, ain't it? [And here Clayton's pace quickens from a slow, careful shamble to an energetic limp. He's sure Enoch can keep up with both. Both his uneven footsteps and exited voice should easily carry through the thin walls of the standing living room nearby.] Was startin' t' worry that it fell down since the last time 'round! You ever been in this place, Enoch?

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[Enoch offers Clayton his shoulder to lean on every step of the way, a hand always ready to steady him if he ever lost his balance in the snow.]

I don't believe I have... [Worry is laced into the tone of his reply as Clayton speeds up, and he instinctively reaches out with that readied hand to support him for the first several steps.] Please be careful...

[The house is only the one room so it's not like Greed can be anywhere else when two strangers show up. It's been a long time since he's run into anyone else in this place.]

Kind of a small place to camp out for the night, isn't it?

[He didn't arrive too long ago himself, so he's still standing, digging through his backpack.]

[Gosh, Enoch's almost as bad as he is! Clayton flashes a confident smile over his shoulder as he rounds the corner.]

Aw, don't worry 'bout it! Everything's fine. [He pops open the door.] --Ah!

[There's a person in here! Clayton does an awkward hop backwards--not because he doesn't trust the people he meets, but because he doesn't trust the things that aren't people. It only takes walking in on one monster to ruin that experience forever.]

[Thankfully, Greed looks an awful lot like a person and not a monster, so Clayton's fearful surprise is brief. He stops himself at the doorway, one hand on the frame, the other reaching up to clutch at his chest.]

...Lord. 'Bout near gave me a heart attack! [He laughs and shakes his head to relieve some of the tension in his neck, and...hey! He knows this guy!] ...Guess it ain't stoppin' you, Greed. How're you doin'?

[At this rate, Clayton is going to use Enoch's catchphrase (or that half of it) more than he is.

When he hops back, Enoch is already there, so he winds up catching him by the shoulders entirely on reflex.]

Ah-...oh, it's Greed? [He's not sure he's ever actually seen his face before - or if he has, it was during that time he couldn't retain any memory of faces. He peers around Clayton's head to get a look, then steps around him to guide him inside.] Come, let's get out of the snow.

[He adds to Greed as they enter:]

I'm afraid we'll have to share this place, we can't reach any others today. It's good to meet you in person, though.

[Greed shrugs, not looking bothered.]

If neither of you mind, I'm not too worried.

[It's not like Greed sleeps particularly well on a good night, after all. He finally stops digging around in his backpack and sets it aside.]

Enoch, right?

[He's spoken to Clayton before enough times to recognize him.]

Doing pretty good, Clayton. It's good to finally meet the two of you in person.

Edited (....suddenly i was back in animus) 2015-09-17 22:40 (UTC)

Yeah, I'll say.

[In spite of his previous enthusiasm to get inside, Clayton is perfectly happy to use Enoch for some extra support now that they're here and safe. He reaches a hand for his upper arm, a subtle brace for the significantly less subtle limp he's sporting as they wander further in.]

Sorry--awful rude a me. [Clayton lets go once they reach the pool table, using it instead to help him navigate to a more central location.] Enoch, Greed. Greed, Enoch. Y'all two talked before?

[Enoch dutifully guides him to the pool table, and even when he lets go shadows him from a few steps behind, fingers running along the table's edge. Eventually he stops, leaning on the table, still watching Clayton move with protective concern until the other man's introductions distract him.]

Only on the network. Even then, only in writing. I wouldn't have known him if you hadn't said his name.

[It's a little interesting, seeing that hairstyle on someone here after he'd only seen it on his angelic companion Lucifel at home. (even then, it was subtly different, but the idea remained the same...) But he doesn't comment. For all he knows, Lucifel took his hairstyle inspiration from somewhere in the future anyway.]

[Greed's brows raise.]

I could have sworn we've spoken over video before.

[Unless Enoch just has one of those faces; Greed has been around for hundreds of years, after all. Still, he shrugs it off, not too worried.

He runs a hand through his hair.]

We've been here for nearly a month, and it seems like no one has figured out what's going on. How we got here, who these administrators are-- nothing.

We have? I must have forgotten...or it may have been when I couldn't recall faces at all.

[He doesn't easily forget a face, effects of death aside, but this situation is particularly stressful...]

I don't doubt you've seen me, though, I prefer video, personally...

[Satisfied Clayton is steady and that he can get to him quickly if he suddenly isn't, Enoch sinks to his knees and leans on the leg of the pool table. He doesn't think he'll ever get used to normal human endurance again...]

...Both of which remind me, we've seen...something that moves bodies. That's better than knowing nothing at all.

[During the ensuing introductions, Clayton takes Enoch's lead and very gently lowers himself sitting on the ground between them. His overstuffed backpack makes for a convenient pillow to rest against.]

Eh--we'll get there. [Clayton waves a dismissive hand while the other works to unravel the drop cloth cape wrapped around his shoulders. Snow drifts off of it in puffs as it's disturbed.] Ain't in no hurry t' get the chance to watch that happen again, y'know? We'll find a way.

[If it wasn't already clear that Clayton's priorities are about as far away from this topic as Norfinbury is from the equator, he chooses this time to abruptly change the subject. His attention shifts to Greed, along with a wide, curious gaze.]

--Greed, ah--where's yer friend? The one with the hand?

Something moving the bodies... I guess that only makes sense, doesn't it?

[Greed laughs when Clayton asks him about his "friend", knowing full well he's been caught in a poor excuse. He raises up his left hand, still covered in bandages, but thankfully not covered in blood-- his hand has healed, or mostly healed, now.]

He's right here.

[Clayton chuckles low in his throat.]

Yeah, that's what I was thinkin'. D'ya mind if I take a look? Doctor's orders, y'know.

[Greed drops his bag, sauntering over with his palm outstretched. It still aches faintly once in a while, but he thinks his hand has healed reasonably well, all things considered.]

Sure thing.

[He unwraps the bandage carefully to show off his hand. His hand hasn't healed over entirely yet; the scab stretches across his palm, but Greed's been doing a decent job of taking care of it. Somehow he's managed to keep himself from getting a terrible infection.

Hopefully he can avoid having Clayton fuss too much.]

[Speaking of infection... Enoch shifts his backpack off, sitting with it in his lap as he starts looking through it.]

Does the area around the wound need to be cleaned? Or the bandages? I think I had the soap last...

[He may not have been involved in that, but he's here now and isn't going to go without helping if he can.]

[Clayton's fussing is an unavoidable consequence of being in the same area as him, so naturally he's already grabbing Greed's hand once he starts taking off the bandages so he can get a better look at the damage. It's scabbed, which is already a great sign, but Clayton still opts to be cautious and doesn't go poking around it just yet.]

Lookin' good...oughta give it a good cleanin' 'n change them bandages while we're here. [He turns to Enoch--still holding onto Greed at the wrist, though. There is no escape.] I got the rags 'n water, you got the soap, right?

[Thankfully, Greed doesn't look too bothered by having Clayton grab him by the wrist. If anything, he was expecting this kind of fussing after the man asked him so many questions on the network.]

I think I've been doing a decent job, given what I have.

[Enoch pulls out the soap, wrapped in a pad's cover to keep it from getting, well, soap on everything. (he would have felt bad about potentially taking the resource from the ladies of the city, but there were so many in that box, not to mention he'd seen them in nearly every reasonably intact house they'd been in)]

Yes, I have it. [He pulls himself on the table leg to his feet and heads over to hand it to Clayton. While he's over there, he takes a look at the wound, for himself.]

That looks like it was a large wound. It has healed quite well.

Yeah, I'll say. [Clayton takes the soap with his free hand, sets it down, then fishes around in the soft lunchbox slung over his shoulder for a water bottle, a doll's dress, and a small bottle of hand sanitizer. Cleaning the dress and his hands requires that he let go of Greed's hand, so he's let free for the moment. He's been cooperative so far.] Been awful lucky. This coulda gotten real nasty real quick without a way t' clean it. Jus' long as you don't open it up again...

[Having disinfected his hands and scrubbed down the dress, Clayton retrieves Greed's palm again so he can start delicately cleaning around the cut.]

You find somebody else t' help you take care a it? Don't tell me you been travelin' alone this whole time.

[Greed looks up, nodding at Enoch.]

Don't go groping around in the dark. There's a building here like that, I forget where it is, exactly, but...

Lesson learned.

[He's grateful he didn't cause any nerve damage, because as a homunculus, he wouldn't know the first thing about really fixing himself up. It's the disadvantage of being able to heal instantaneously. At the question, he shakes his head.]

Unfortunately, I've been alone for most of my time here. I tried to remember what some of the humans I've been around told me about dressing wounds, given what I had.

You aren't human?

[The revelation wouldn't have as much impact if his hair wasn't styled in exactly such a way that he associates with his best friend. Who is also not human. So he's doing a bit of a double-take, stepping back a bit to get a broader look, as if there was something he missed.]

You look very much like one.

[Enoch's not the only one. He beats Clayton to the exclamation by only a second, which gives him a chance to not react much save locking up his hands and raising his brows. Perhaps he would have been a little more outwardly dubious if he hadn't been visited by Actual Rat Woman Freya Crescent several days ago. Still, Enoch brings up a good point. Except for maybe the odd point of his teeth, Greed looks more human than some of the others here.]

So, ah... [He tries to work the confusion out of his voice by resuming cleaning Greed's hand.] ...Pardon fer askin'. What are ya then?

[With his free hand, Greed points to the catlike slit pupils, since it's the most obvious difference he has, besides sharp teeth. When he's talking, the teeth just aren't as obvious.]

I'm a homunculus, a person created with alchemy.

[It's not quite the truth, but it's not a lie, either.]

"Alchemy" again.

[...Wait. If bringing back the dead requires a sacrifice...what does creating a life entail?]

So, ah...you were created by man, then?

[That's not a nice thing to directly ask about, so he won't.]

Again?

[That's directed at Enoch. "Alchemy" isn't exactly a common term Clayton hears thrown around all that much and it brings up some...very interesting connotations. Creating a whole person is not an uncommon thing, but he has the sneaking suspicion that Greed means something a little less conventional. In that case, this is really weird.]

[Greed nods, his expression grave.]

I was created by a woman who attempted to bring her lover back to life. It didn't work-- never works; attempting to raise the dead only brings forth something not human, a homunculus.

What aside from your eyes and teeth make you not human? If you are, yourself, her lover, I would say that makes you as human as the body you were born in.

[This is kind of important to him. He's leaving behind the realm of the strictly human, himself, but he feels as human as he ever has.

Unless he isn't, but...that was implied well enough, he thinks.]

[Clayton's expression wavers from grave sympathy to, interestingly enough, quiet understanding. The terminology isn't quite what he was expecting, but...yes, he sees what's going on here, he thinks.]

...This ain't quite the body you were expectin', was it?

[Bit of an odd tangent, but, as always, Clayton knows where he's going with this.]

I look like her lover.

[It's said with enough force, with enough emotion, that it probably comes off too strong.]

I just... wear his face. It doesn't mean I'm actually him.

It's just an unfortunate side effect. I'm sure if it was possible, people would be creating unique-looking homunculi, who don't have connections to humanity.

[But of course the both of them were on the wrong track entirely. Enoch flinches slightly at the more vehement denial, hardly noticeable, more a twitch than anything before he leans forward from the subtle reel, still all sympathy, though for other reasons.]

I...I'm sorry.

[For Greed, who would have to deal with this woman expecting her lover, and for the woman herself, who could never have her lover back.

This brings up so many other questions. What is the origin of his soul? Is he wholly man-made? But this is hardly the time to bring up such thoughts with him.

After all, it's not only the woman wanting her lover back he had to deal with, but everyone who ever knew the man he resembled...]

It...must be difficult.

[Clayton had asked him a question...he'd have to answer it later. Where he'd heard of alchemy before could wait.]

[Of course they are. Clayton winces, passes an apologetic look to Enoch and Greed. How do you follow up with something like that? Enoch has the right idea, more or less; Clayton decides to let him handle the general regrets while he thinks.]

[Gingerly he finishes wrapping up Greed's hand with the doll dress and draws away.]

There ya are. Healed up enough that I doubt you'll need that bandage fer more'n a couple days, but best t' be safe.

[A beat. Clayton stares at the floor, frozen in place with his hand halfway inside his lunchbox to put away the soap.]

...How long you been goin' by "Greed?"

It's... different. I don't know anything else.

[He brushes it off, though, looks more conversational and less like he doesn't want to discuss this.]

Thanks for all your help. Here's to not cutting my hand open again.

[At the question, he barely hesitates.]

It's been my name since the day I was born. So... three hundred years or so? Something like that.

[Enoch is glad to change the subject all the same. They've found another immortal, after all! He instantly brightens up a little.]

Ah, you aren't much younger than I am, then. I take it your kind don't age?

[It's amazing how little he cares about subtlety once all mortals present have accepted his immortality.]

Ain't a problem. You still owe me one, man.

[Clayton smiles faintly and settles back against the pool table. He thinks about pressing or saying something reassuring, but Greed seems to be getting along better with distraction, which might be for the best in a group. Clayton decides to let him and Enoch get along with this one again. Immortal talk is hardly something he's qualified to get involved in--he's the baby of the group at thirty, which is very weird for him to think about, but so it goes.]

Anytime you need the help, I'll do what I can. I do owe you.

[Enoch's question is an interesting one.]

We don't age, no. It's theoretically possible, but that involves messing around with our makeup. I couldn't tell you what's involved with it, because I honestly don't know.

I'd imagine the reasons to try are fairly limited. It's not as if you've known anything else, after all.

[Not like a case like his. Sure, he has to live with anyone he gets close to growing old and dying, but if he's never expected to do the same himself, maybe that makes it different. Maybe he just handles it better.

Come to think of it...

He opens his mouth as if to say something again, before abruptly stopping himself. He's just remembered Clayton's question again.]

Ah...you asked about alchemy earlier, Clayton...it's been mentioned to me before, and it seems to be a force of great power to those who come from the world where it's found.

[He looks up at Greed as if asking him to confirm what he's said and possibly elaborate, because he knows more or less nothing about it. It's just come up twice now, is all...]

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[log] a little snowhell oasis [closed]

I am so late I'm sorry

don't sweat it!

we're all good here!

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