New Arrivals Log (January)

[thepull_mods]

Who: January Arrivals, Greeters, & anyone else who happens to be hanging around the Tower Apartments to greet newcomers.
When: Throughout January, 2012(Please Specify Date & Time in Thread Header)
Where: The Sector 4 Baseball Diamond, Parking Lot & Lobby of the Tower Apartments
Summary: This is your catch-all one stop log for arrival interactions!

Comments

january third, twelve-thirty in the afternoon

[improvesmorale]

He wakes up in the outfield. Has he been asleep? Has he slept

o/

[cognidis]

He initially ventures down to the baseball diamond to see what's going on with the snowglobe phenomenon. Given how many there are, he doubts his will be traced back to him (if he even has one), but he would rather collect it just the same.

Passing by the field itself, a poncho drawn tight around him, he doesn't pay it much thought until he glances towards the center and sees a man on the ground. A new arrival.

Forgetting about the snowglobes for a moment, he runs over to see if the man needs any help. He stops short when he gets closer -- is that blood?

Worried, he kneels beside him. Up close, he can see the gash in the man's face: a bullet wound. Trying to catch the other's gaze, he keeps his tone calm.

"Sir? I know this is really jarring and confusing, but I think you need to come in and have that looked at."

Re: o/

[improvesmorale]

Sir. He knows this game. He stares at the man, wide-eyed. He searches him for cuts and bruises.

"It's fine," he croaks. Deja vu, but not quite.

He tries to keep his eyes on the other man as he struggles from his knees to his feet. Muscle by muscle, he moves-- until he puts his weight on his ankle and then crumples back to his knees. This isn't good. It's probably broken.

"It's fine," he repeats, emphasizing the i in fine. It's then that his eyes catch the silvery color of his gun buried in the grass next to him.

[cognidis]

Sad to say, even if he was injured a few minutes ago, there would be nothing to see now. As is, his brow wrinkles, more from worry than anything else. He doesn't want to just leave this man out here, especially when he's very clearly not fine.

He doesn't rise, just watches the other man as he gets up. He doesn't want to startle the new arrival, but he doesn't want him to fall either. Glancing to the side, is gaze follows the other man's. Ah.

Reaching for the weapon, he keeps his eyes trained on the stranger as he picks it up and flicks the safety on. No sense in taking any chances.

"This is yours, isn't it?"

jan. 3, 2:00 pm.

[manipulatent]

It feels as if, for a moment, the world is bent entirely backwards, held there, then sprung back along with Hugo’s consciousness. The sudden disruption to his awareness and his perspective is more than just a shock.

“―Nng!”

The sheer force of the sensation that hits makes him stumble forward, drop to his knees without any hint of grace, without any source of control. Here, he remains hunched for a delirious moment, covering his mouth with a hand as he rides the nausea and dizziness out, trembling. Scornfully noting that this is hardly an elegant moment. His own weakness is flagrant. Foul to his sensibilities. It’s this mounting self-disgust that pushes him to shakily push himself to his feet, flick the dirt off his hands.

Adjusting his coat and pushing his spectacles up the bridge of his nose, he regards the field he’s in with a cool gaze, a shoddy attempt to gain face. Patting his coat, the presence of his gun under his shoulder brings some relief. But the skyline beyond his immediate spot? Worryingly unfamiliar.

Now. Where is

[boundbytreason]

Caster had not permitted her hands to grow idle during her time in the Port. Reviewing the files stored upon the collective network of the NV, she had recorded the date of every new arrival from the start of 2010 to the end of 2011, identifying and noting any patterns. Precisely as expected, January of 2012 saw the inception of fresh newcomers to the city, with the third being the latest before the influx commenced. As a result, the man that materialized and descended at the center of the baseball diamond, seemingly out of thin air, came as little surprise to the woman designated with the duty of GreeterIts name was a paltry token, easily giving rise to the impression of a receptionist with a vacuous smile and a tongue that spouted little more than inanities. Yet, the profession demanded far more than having to maintain proper etiquette, and it punished those blunt of tongue or slow of wit. However, for one already hollowed out and dulled by prior experience, it was nothing short of a nuisance, comparable with the graze of teeth

[manipulatent]

Catching a glimpse of the approaching figure stills his movement to leave this garbage heap, the purpose of their movement making him war. What could only be referred to as the garb, rather flamboyant for a common winter’s day such as this one, naturally arises his suspicions. A vililante? Another misguided little fool, striving to place him in cuffs and ship him to the nearest asylum? The thought is downright grating. The temptation to run or even shoot is one that is immediate. Alluring.

Nonetheless, Hugo stands in the bitter cold watching, waiting. If he’s shivering, it’s smoothed out by the time she stops before him.

“Madame.” Straightening, he regards her coolly, speaking with disaffected tones. “I would appreciate it, if you would.”

But the notion of other worlds is hardly unfamiliar to him, coming from the Earth that he's from. Immediately, the wheels in his mind begin to turn. A name, a plan, an excuse. His attention to this stranger is absolutely as weak as can be as he works, theorizes.

[boundbytreason]

The apparel of a magus boasted more than one purpose, but one of them was the leisure of surveillance that was free from detection. After all, first impressions did more than define the tone of a conversation. It was a piece of art, painted and framed with the purpose of reaching the inner chambers constructing one’s mind. Caster drank in each little detail, reading the symbolism of delineated curves and lines mapped into his skin. Age came with years of experience, which his eyes could either convey or conceal as windows to one’s soul

January 5th, three seventeen am.

[fairymicrowaver]

Suddenly being somewhere else is nothing new for Dean Winchester. Nor is going from day to night. With angels suddenly whisking him from one place to another at random times (god couldn't they let him sleep) that wasn't what bothered him.

To wake up on his ass in the middle of a baseball diamond? "Well, this is new." He grumbled as he carefully got to his feet and double checked his weapons were on his person. "Cas?" The call was met with nothing, not even the familiar rustle of feathers.

Where the hell was he? If it hadn't been him who had it been? Balthazar? "Alright, you brought me here. Now what do you freaking want?!" He called but the second time was no more success than the first. Dean ran a hand through his hair and started off the diamond, pausing to pick up his bag before he moved to get a better look at his surroundings.

What he could see that is. As he stood there with a frown on his face and his eyes scanning the area, one hand reached into his coat. It produced his phone and he moved to check through only to find

awww yeah.

[refrigeratormom]

Mary heard the tell-tale sounds and thud of a new arrival from outside the dugout, looked out the window to confirm, and almost smiled to herself. As intense as this job could be (and invariably was), she craved the business, the emotionality, the pure energy it took to pour herself into caring for someone else and handling someone else's stress. "Rough week" was putting it lightly- even now she didn't like looking at her wedding ring for too long, lest she get caught up in herself again.

Pushing outside into the cold, she could hear the Newcomer already conscious and active, which was good... mostly. He was doing the absolutely charming "screaming to the Heavens" routine, which never got old, oh no. But once she really listened, the voice she heard stopped her cold in her tracks.

It was Dean.

Dean, here. Again. Again and back and whole so soon. Jinx was right, his soul was still here, and god only knew if he would remember anything but who cares he was here.It took her a few long, long moments to pull herself together (long

Yesss

[fairymicrowaver]

He became aware he was being watched seconds before a voice hit his ears and caused him to turn around. Dean froze, all of his hunter instincts abandoned as Mary ran towards him. His mother, one of the few things that could shatter his guard and get inside it. "...mom?" The question hung in the air even as he moved to intercept her. He had to make sure she was real, and the distress triggered old instincts.

Whatever was wrong he had to make it right. If it was really her, he would do everything to put whatever caused that pained sound in her voice right. "Mom!" The steps in her direction became faster, as he reached out to catch hold of her. "What the hell is going on here?"

[refrigeratormom]

"Dean!" That's all Mary could manage. Explanations and complete sentences would have to come later. She grabbed onto his jacket as soon as he was in arm's reach and yanked him close in a tight, panicked hug like she was trying to squeeze the air out of his lungs. Her face buried in his shoulder muffled the breathless, "You're alive. You're here."

She allowed herself a few long seconds like that, breathing hard just to stay steady, before pulling away and looking him. "You're alive, you're here." Something stung her cheeks- a cold breeze against the tears she hadn't even realized she was crying, and she couldn't stop touching him. Her hands smoothed back his hair, touched his cheeks, tugging at the collar of that stupid jacket. He was solid and real under her hands, solid and real and here. She pulled him close to press her forehead against his with a breathless, "Thank God," before pulling back again. "We should go."

[sonatas_edge]

The ache was familiar. It was that same feeling you get when you've just had the wind knocked out of you and every muscle tenses in response. Then, when your body has uncoiled itself it's like a rusty creak of mild protest. He's felt it dozens of times, but only one other time like this. And even then there was a difference

Because the adorable needs to happen

[hybrid_prodigy]

Since people had started to come in again, Gohan had found himself spending some time by the baseball field a couple of hours a day. He stayed out of everyone's way, not wanting to cause any trouble. But if someone he knew showed up -- or showed up again -- he wanted to be there to see them.

He couldn't sense anything, because of the Voids, but that was okay. It wasn't like he couldn't recognize somebody on sight. No one familiar had been here yet, and he was just about to head back home for the day when the edge of his vision caught something.

Gohan stopped and blinked in the midst of standing up with his books. Wait. Was that . . . It was . . .

He dropped the books carelessly and dashed across the field before any of the Greeters could get to him. Minute differences didn't even register to him as the new arrival looked around in confusion. Which is probably why the tackle-hug managed to land.

"Soul! You're back!"

omg gohan y so cute? /wishes soul remembered ;;

[sonatas_edge]

Only at the last second did he notice a short blur out of his peripheral vision come at him. He was used to this kind of greeting from Black*Star back when his best friend was younger, but since this was a strange kid, his reaction was to tense up.

"Oof!" He let out and stumbled backwards back onto the ground. His hands immediately flew back to hold himself up and prevent a complete fall. But back in the dirt he was, with a boy that couldn't be more than ten hugging him. He tensed up even more and leaned away but only by a little considering their position.

"Ha-hey. What the hell're you doing?" His tone was strained as he tried to hold back his displeasure. It was just a kid. But still.

Gohan will be so sad! But he will deal.

[hybrid_prodigy]

He blinked up at the words, and shifted off apologetically. "Oh. Sorry."

He stood up, still smiling, and offered his hand in case Soul didn't mind having some help getting up. "Didn't mean to knock you down like that, but it's just so awesome to see you again!"

Nothing had quite registered yet that Soul didn't remember. The reaction was just because he was disoriented from the Pull, right?

jan. 7th, 9:30 am

[furrari]

[ the last thing the night fury remembered was his vision going black. the scenery around him dissolving and everything spinning. the pressure, the sensations--

and he wakes from his second crash landing.

he groggily blinks while on his back, stirring and seeing double, so continues to blink, rumbling and growling as he shakes the disorientation and slight nausea away. the dragon's legs began to shift, turning over and pulling his body up-- only to be rather weak, stumbling the first step or two.

his wings flex. he hisses.

it ached.

he smells the air, he smells the ground.

it was an odd smell. a very odd smell. and as the creature began to notice, an odd place as well. chain linked fences, the dugouts. less trees and a different sky. a different air. his nostrils flare, and he huffs all the air that he smelled out with distaste.

a hiss. a mumble.

his pupils were slits, and his steps cautious-- he was tense, on high alert, slinking carefully across the diamond. was he ambushed again? has he been captured? ]

[fantasycliche]

[ She doesn't often pay any mind to the newcomers, or where they appear. Almost never, in fact. But today one of her walks has taken her where they don't usually, for sheer restlessness, and-- well. Apparently she ought to come this way more often.

She'd frozen, at first, seeing that terribly familiar creature through the chain link fence. But... something's different. While unmistakably a dragon, and unmistakably black, he... doesn't look like one of her own kind. He's far too small, and looks fully grown, or near to it. His horns are wrong. They don't even look like horns. The entire shape of the body is... off.

But one way or another, this is still a dragon. She darts a furtive look around to see that no one's watching, then teleports quickly into the baseball diamond. She's a respectful distance away from him, of course (small as he may be, it's inadvisable to surprise any kind of dragon when you're tucked away in such a weak and defenseless form), but directly in his line of sight. ]

Hello. [ English. She'll try that first.

[furrari]

[ his ears perk up, twitching at the smallest sounds-- including the ones being made by the other. when khisanth appears ( from nowhere, mind you! ), the night fury's attention is caught. although that sudden appearance had surprised him . . .

He stands his ground, lowering his head, ears flat against his skull and narrowing his eyes, a low growl being made.

It was a growl of uncertainty, alertness. cautiousness. But even then--

he observes her-- the, what looked like a human. upon a closer inspection, she held no weapons, neither did she appear to want to harm him. It didn't take long for that deep rumble of defense to turn into a rumble of question. his head tilts, his neck extends, and he takes a few careful steps around her to sniff.

now, hang on. this was-- odd. ]

[fantasycliche]

[ She watches him just as intently as he watches her, with a certain inhuman quality. It's a little snakelike, steady and unblinking as it is.

Maybe he is young, not... stunted, or something. Maybe he hasn't learned to speak the common tongue yet. She'd think him shy, but she's never known a single dragon to fit that category.

She tries again, a little hesitantly. If this doesn't work, there'll be nothing for it but to switch languages. ]

You shouldn't be out here. This place doesn't seem to take kindly to dragons. [ yeah, nevermind that that's mostly her fault. oops. ]