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

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 he?

[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 Greeter.

Its 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 that came with the crisp bite of winter.

Caster stepped out from the Dugout on the left, the crunch of wet gravel indicative of her presence. Her stiletto heels were easy to glimpse, when they were black like ebony to contrast the bluish-purple of the heavy robe enshrouding her figure. The ends of a dress peeked out from underneath, as it nipped and darted around the exposed skin of her ankles. Her hood cast her eyes within the concealment of shadows, but the lower half of her face remained bare, save for the violet lipstick that could readily drew attention to her lips as it parted for speech.

"Good afternoon," she greeted in a gentle voice, the shadow of the purr that she used only when she hunted. "I, Caster, welcome you to the city of Siren’s Port." She slowed, prepared to draw to a stop in front of him. "I know that this feels unpleasant right now, but your body has had to travel from one world to another. Give it time, and it will pass. In the meantime, I am here to explain your circumstances, as hard as they may be to believe."

[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.

Everyone wore a mask in public, but if there was one thing obvious, the variance of his tone distinctly indicated a keen sense of displeasure. Yet, given the situation, it was only natural.

"You were brought here by the Core, which rests at the heart of this city," she smoothly proceeded to explain. "No one knows the exact specifics of its functions or even what it is, but it’s undeniably the source of your arrival here, as it is for many others. Myself, included. It keeps us from leaving this parallel version of Earth and this island, which is off the shore from Canada."

It was tedious, delivering the same information to each person that came to the baseball diamond. She already felt jaded by the appalling layout that never ceased to act as a complete and utter eyesore. Nevertheless, she spoke at calm length, infusing warmth into the soft lilt of her voice for a touch of sincerity.

"Every arrival is given one month of free lodging at the Tower Apartments." A darkly gloved hand emerged from the folds of her robe, as she briefly indicated its structure in the distance with a mild gesture of her fingers. "Shall we continue this conversation inside? It’ll be much warmer. I don't know what the weather was like in your world, but it's winter, now."

[manipulatent]

Nodding to her words, they just barely absorb―yes, yes, something about Canada and Earths and honestly, this is the sort of information he hardly sees would require a position of employment over. A few signs would be enough, really. His lips quirk, his foot begins to tap with impatience. It’s not exactly as if he cares enough to even attempt to hide it.

Nonetheless, he forces a grin, taking a step forward.

“Please.” His hands fan out, palms open. A gesture of friendliness, however forced and insincere it may be. “Lead the way, my lady.”

[boundbytreason]

With the crunch of gravel and the flutter of fabric, her heels begin to carry her forward, in the direction of the Tower Apartments.

"Do you have any questions, so far?" Caster kept her hooded face slightly angled, keeping him in her line of vision even as she moved.

It struck her as odd that he hadn't even asked a single query. She had caught the sign of impatience in the tap of his foot, and she wondered whether he even believed her words. Then again, perhaps he was accustomed with traveling to different worlds. He wouldn't be the first in the city to bear that mentality.

[manipulatent]

Of course he should engage in talk before being left to find information on his own time. Courtesy, while not something he's fond of, is something that is a particular necessity at times.

"I suppose," he speaks slowly, taking steps of equal pace. "How do recent arrivals manage to find a place of employment, without any sources or connections to do so?"

After all, he needs to be taking some action in this brave new world. Maybe even legal.

[boundbytreason]

His question elicited a faint hint of amusement that threaded along Caster's smile. It wasn't often that an arrival would ask about employment soon after their arrival.

"In Siren's Port, there are 11 Sectors," Caster began, for clarification. "Most start by seeking out work in Sector 4. There are various jobs available, but those who affiliate with the two, presiding companies -- SERO and AGI -- are allowed broader options. Though, they can be decidedly...questionable."

She paused then, leaving him room to ask the next question at his leisure.

[manipulatent]

Oh. Of course, the curiosity immediately forces him to ask. "Questionable?"

Then, as if shocked: "The presiding companies are seen as more "questionable" than the other options?"

Hugo's tone warms as his interest flares. It's not the situation that he cares for, but the opportunities presented. he fact that the nausea is shaking off isn't exactly a minor factor in his sudden change in temperament, either.

[boundbytreason]

"That's right," Caster answered, with a slight inclination of her head in a nod. "They both offer their own conceived method of escape from this world, but their venues of business involve slavery -- AGI -- or experimentation -- SERO."

Normally, she would speak about how terribly regrettable it was or how unfortunate it seemed.

Yet, she was a woman of patience, and she would observe his reaction before carrying on. One didn't enter a party without verifying whether the event was formal or informal, and they certainly didn't dress with the very first thing seen in their closet.