hadriel_logs | INTRO LOG: WELCOME TO THE BATCAVE

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INTRO LOG: WELCOME TO THE BATCAVE

Who: New arrivals and everyone else!
What: The intro log for January.
Where: The colosseum and all around the city.
When: January 10th-15th
Warnings: Bats, but not Batman. Weird arts and crafts. Confused newbies.

You awaken on the hard-packed sandy floor of the colosseum. As you blink the sleep from your eyes and begin to try to get your bearings, you might hear the gentle, soothing sound of wind chimes tinkling through the air. It's a peaceful sound, a pleasant sound. As you look around, you'll find tall stands with curved hooks at the top here and there throughout the arena, each supporting a different handmade wind chime.

You could stay and enjoy the sounds, even if what they're coming from is a bit less than aesthetically pleasing. Or you could pause for a moment and wonder where the wind that's sounding the chimes is coming from, considering you're in a cave. There are breezes in Hadriel now and again, but what's causing this wind is something else entirely. Spend too long out in the open and you'll find out what.

Perching atop the broken walls of the colosseum, hidden in crevices and shadows, are a number of Ahools. These giant bats can have wingspans as big as 12 feet, and they're certainly strong enough to lift smaller and lighter people off their feet entirely, carrying them away to devour at their leisure. Don't think you can hide - their echolocation will find you as easily as a bat finds a moth in the black of night.

If you manage to escape the Ahools and get your bearings, feel free to go explore the rest of the city! Find a house, find a new monster, or simply scavenge for supplies until your belly is as full as that giant bat's was supposed to be. Good luck, and enjoy your stay in Hadriel!

► This log covers January 10th-15th.
► Feel free to make your own logs, as well!
► All characters now arrive with phones that have network communication.
► Please put your character's name and open/closed in the subject line of your starters!

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

[newt is getting a bag of mid-weight nonperishables swung at his ass for being a little shit.]

Whatever turns your gears, blondie.

(Newt lets out an indignation and mildly embarrassing squawk when the bag makes contact and his head spins so fast to lock onto Peter.

This was a horrific decision. His brain can't even come up with a single thing to say or do because who- who does that.

And no, for the record, he is not turning red in the tips of his ears you can leave. For that, he's just going to walk ahead a bit, muttering. Good job, Peter, you embarrassed the poor son of a bitch. But hey, look, they're at least headed for the houses because that really kind of does sound like the good idea to go with.)

[get used to it, newt. this is how peter gets his way. wiles.

or, y'know, being a jerk. one of those. either way, his mouth finally twitches up into a real smile, one newt misses because he's too busy heading for the houses. peter hangs back enough to let newt do the choosing. he wasn't lying when he said he really didn't care, and an indignant mother bear was probably going to do a better job picking than he would anyway.]

(It doesn't take Newt long to get over what happened and then to focus on the actual task at hand. He bypasses the tinier houses because he doesn't think just Peter and Newt. He thinks for others, groups, people. More than just two. What if they find more kids? What if they find his friends? Or even Peter's friends? The room would be nice.

So he winds up heading for one of the larger accommodations. They wind up strolling into one of the four bedroom houses- not that Newt can actually tell that's how many rooms there are from the outside- and steps inside. He's a little wary, uncertain, but more curious than anything. He wanders in further, setting down the haul of groceries before glancing around the house.

He turns around to Peter and raises a brow, holding his arms out.)

Home sweet home.

[peter follows behind him, wondering at first why newt is eschewing the smaller dwellings in favor of the larger ones, and then he remember. friends. newt is clearly expecting company, or at least preparing for it. peter isn't sure how to feel about that, but hell. he's not really tied to this kid. he can always move if things get crowded.

his eyes follow newt as he presents their new digs.]

Sure, why not?

[peter puts his bags down and immediately begins doing a thorough search of the place, seeing if anything was left behind and trying to figure out what all the strange appliances do. once he finds the refrigerator and the oven he mostly loses interest, wandering into the bedrooms and then upstairs to see what there is to see.]

(Newt doesn't expect Peter to stay but he also wouldn't ask him to leave either. Newt wasn't a loner by any means. Even if he didn't find his friends, filling this house with other people was an option likely to happen.

He spends his own time wandering around. He's in the kitchen for a good deal longer than Peter- curious about the appliances. He also checks all of them for the word WICKED to be stamped anywhere on them but he finds nothing at all. It leaves him feeling strange, somehow.

The first bedroom he ambles into is the one by the staircase. It's more spacious than the bedrooms at the Homestead. The architecture is bizarre but fitting of the rest of this place enough that Newt doesn't question it too much. He sets his backpack down at the foot of the single bed and puts his gun inside of the provided closet. Peter really hadn't seemed to like it and it's not like Newt was using it anyway. It'd be fine for emergencies but for now it could be kept away.

He pulls his jacket off and sets it in the closet on one of the strangely shaped hangers before going to his bag to pull out a fresh t-shirt from the Facility. He wanders off to where he'd seen a bathroom. He doesn't take a shower, no, but he does run some water to wash his face, hands, and a bit of his hair off of the filth from the Scorch. He changes out his dirty shirt for the clean one and instantly feels better. Wandering back to his room, he tosses the dirty shirt down next to his bag before squatting down to pick through it. He winds up taking mostly everything out save a few amenities. Later, he'd organize them but for now it would just be good to have a relatively empty bag. He keeps his knife at his hip and lifts the bag over an arm before stepping out into the rest of the house.)

You good to go?

[peter, meanwhile, has combed through the house and found not much of substance. there's a second bathroom upstairs, and two more bedrooms with balconies. it's spacious, not godfrey-palatial, but bigger than anywhere peter's family has laid claim to. when he hears newt call, he clatters back down the stairs. besides the groceries, he has nothing but the clothes he's wearing and the contents of his pockets, but he's also relatively clean and freshly showered.]

Yeah, sure. Let's go.

[this time, he leads the way out the door.]

(Newt would shower later. After the whole bat thing, he didn't trust there not to be something else out there or another situation. His old shirt had had gore all over it from when he cut open one of the bats so it was the main reason he'd changed.

Good thing about that running water though. Newt wasn't surprised. The moment they'd come into the house and it was fully furnished, he'd anticipated as much. If there was anything WICKED had taught him, it was that when you were kidnapped into these kinds of situations they normally wanted to keep you alive.

Newt follows after Peter easily, hands sliding into his pockets as he limps along next to him.)

Those rooms are huge. It'll be useful though, I think.

The extra space? Why, are you a packrat, or planning on starting up a home for wayward teenagers?

[there's a lack of judgment in the words again, though they're tinged with sarcasm--peter doesn't think poorly of newt's plans, whatever they may be. he hasn't mentioned the limp, either, although he's adjusted his stride to match newt's.]

Either way, it's pretty swanky for an abandoned cave. Two bathrooms, even.

[he seems confident enough walking through the buildings, though they don't really look all that different. after living in so many places and doing a lot of wandering, peter has a pretty good sense of direction.]

It is a big place, though. Must've been either rich or huge, whoever lived there before.

Not fully...But if there are other kids our age out there, it's for the best we all stick together, isn't it?

(It's not a question that he thinks warrants an actual answer. He turns his head to look at Peter and no, he doesn't care that the guy's being mildly sarcastic with him.)

Captors are normally pretty accommodating. If you don't wake up bound and gagged they normally want you alive for something useful for them.

(Not to be pessimistic. It's more realistic, he thinks. Getting cozy too quickly wasn't the best idea. Making due was good enough in his opinion. Thomas had taught him to never settle for being caged and that was something he'd try and duplicate here. Only, Thomas was the one who opened up their cage last time. Newt didn't think he himself would ever be able to be so strong.)

Or just needed the space. The architecture is pretty unique. I've never seen curved homes like that before but it matches the rest of this place. I'd go with whatever lived here before probably isn't too...

(He gestures oddly between Peter and himself. Human.)

If you say so.

[peter gives the sort of shrug that agrees to maybe not quite agree. he's never had that much luck with sticking with anyone who wasn't his family or surnamed godfrey, and those ones were at least halfway stuck to him.]

You have way too much experience with this being captured thing, you know that? Not that I'm disagreeing with a single thing you said, but way too much experience. Thing is, who the hell kidnapped us, how the fuck did they do it, and why? You might get nabbed once a week, but my average is slightly less than that.

[but not a nonzero number, obviously. that and the people who captured peter generally were trying to kill him. it was just a thing.]

Human-shaped? Probably not, although they couldn't have been too far off. I mean, we can use the toilets, and there are stairs and beds and recognizable furniture.

[is human-shaped a weird answer? damnit. oh well.]

(Thing about Newt was that he didn't have family. He woke up without a memory and absolutely nothing at all. No friends, nothing. He had to make due with the boys he woke up with and ever since he was a group homebody. They had become his family and since every month a new boy was brought into the Glade, he had very quickly become accommodating to that family expanding.

Simple as that.

He looked over at Peter and raised his brows. It wasn't a funny situation but he smiled regardless. It was more of a sardonic expression than an earnest one though.)

Can't say it's really my choice to have an experience in it. It's kind of all I've ever known.

(Simply put. He shook his head at Peter, staring ahead and the smile has completely vanished.)

I don't know. Before, they managed it all the time. They pulled all kinds of bizarre things. You can't trust what you see and what's real might be beyond what you can see. Don't trust your mind because who knows what they put in it or took away from it. The 'how' isn't nearly as important as the 'why' and 'who'. If people want to do bad things, they'll find ways to do it.

(It might've been a bit much to say, maybe will startle Peter. But it was the truth, wasn't it? The people who captured Newt were trying to - to figure things out. He still didn't completely know.)

Yeah. Just not too sure what else there is if not human-shaped.

(He gives a shrug. He supposes it doesn't matter right then. Human-shaped made plenty of sense.)

[newt's words seem to physically hit peter, and he stops walking.]

...wait a second. You mean you've been getting kidnapped for your entire life? You're what, sixteen, seventeen? That is completely fucking insane.

[then newt goes on, and peter's look goes kind of strange. not in the way where he's not listening, but in the way where it almost seems like there's something...else. something looking out of peter's eyes that isn't quite peter, but it also is peter, as though inside peter is something bigger than himself, something he's simply not telling the universe. he gives newt an odd little smile.]

Beyond the illusion of the illusion there's truth in the world. It sings, if you know how to listen. But hell yes, if people want to do bad things, they will. And if people want to do good things, they'll do their damnedest. But you've gotta trust something, blondie, or you'll go right the fuck out of your mind.

[he claps a hand on newt's shoulder and keeps walking.]

You and me might have some interesting times.

Uh.

(He comes to a stop himself and turns around to stare at Peter.

He listens to Peter talk for a moment and it isn't until a while after Peter has started them walking again that he seems to find his own words.)

Listen, Peter. You and I? We're probably gonna be together for quite some time. So I'll just be straight with you. Me? I kind of only remember the past two years of my life. That's it. I don't even know my real name. Don't know how old I am either- though I think I'm more like seventeen or eighteen rather than sixteen. There's plenty I don't know except that since I woke up those two years ago that it's been the result of people who like to think they're in charge of my life. They took my memories and have put me through Tests ever since. That's it.

(He gives a faint sigh. It didn't actually seem like he was particularly upset about not having his memories. It wasn't worth being upset about. He cared about the now rather than what had once been. Sure he knew a little now of before but it wasn't worth mentioning without having to explain everything and he really didn't want to overload here.

He grins a little bit though, thinking on what Peter had been saying afterward.)

I do trust something. I trust my friends. I trust you. Don't you worry about me, mate.

(He snickers a little bit, head bowing low.)

I don't think there's a choice but to have interesting times in this sorta situation.

...okay, that's actually even more completely fucking insane.

[it almost sounds admiring, when he says it, like newt just won an award for craziest shit peter's heard this week, and that it's an honor. to be fair, it kind of is. he's quiet for a long moment, that same odd, considering look on his face. for a moment, in the strange light of the cave, he looks more like something else peering at newt from behind a scruffy boy mask than another boy. but the moment passes, and then peter's just the same slouchy, sarcastic teenager he was a moment before.]

And out of choices of all the names in the world, you went with Newt? Really?

[it's not that he doesn't care, or that it doesn't matter, or raise a million questions, or any of that. peter's just giving him an out of talking about something that heavy. only two years of his life. no family, no security, nothing but other kids in the same shitty situation. peter literally can't imagine. some part of him feels for newt, and some other part of him wants to squash that part down. should he really be going and getting attached? it went against his basic rules for living. except those rules were all contingent on having his family, the only people he really needed. and they weren't here. peter has never really been alone, not like this.]

Maybe not, but like they say, if you're bored then you're boring.

Yeah- well. I guess I don't know if I've actually been kidnapped my whole life. Like I said, it's just kind of been all I've known.

(So there was that. He likes to thing he hadn't always been captive with WICKED but who knows? They had claimed him their property and Thomas had even mentioned something about there being files on them, how they had all been involved in some small way. Again, he really didn't like thinking about it.

He stared right back at Peter. Maybe the name thing was meant as a joke but Newt felt...oddly defensive. His eyes narrowed ever so slightly and his mouth was set into a bit of a tight line.)

No. It's the name that I remembered. When I say I woke up with no memory, I mean no memory

(A faint sigh, aggravated.)

If I'd known any other name and didn't wake up thinking Newt was my name, I would've thought of something eventually. But that's what I remembered and when you wake up with nothing and that's all you have....It tends to stick with you a little bit. Turns out that they all gave us these stupid nicknames after famous scientists. Isaac Newton, you know. Thomas Edison. Albert Einstein. Scientists think they're so hilarious.

(His shoulders slump and any irritation seems to leak out of him with it. It wasn't really all that big of a deal for him to share all of this. It wasn't the private, personal stuff. It was the stuff that was just facts. Maybe it had been an out but it probably wasn't the best out to go with when it literally was the only thing Newt had from before. So. Bad choice there Peter but an A for effort, huh?

Then Newt is shaking himself out of his stupor because it really, really isn't worth thinking about. He's prone to a certain kind of badness when left to his own thoughts. It's not a place he wants to creep back to anytime soon so he picks his head up and slams the door shut on those feelings.)

Oh, anything but boring. That's worse than death, isn't it?

(The smile on his face is light and sort of desperate. Tease with him, Peter. For the love of all things good.)

[newt's little tirade plainly takes peter by surprise, and he just stands there and blinks through it, looking slightly gobsmacked. for all he's been through, and that's not a small amount of things, at least he has his own name. his family. he knows who he is, where he came from. peter may be a wanderer but he has roots. suddenly, newt looks like a tumbleweed, that puff of blond hair indicative of the dried, uprooted plant, desperate to spread its seeds, to somehow make a mark on the world.

ultimately, he looks at that thin, desperate smile, and gives a snort.]

At least when you're dead you have an excuse. But I don't think you're going to have to worry about being boring, Sir Isaac Blondie. You have some depths under that fluffy hair of yours.

[he shoves his hands into his pockets and starts walking again. shit, shit, shit.]

(Newt suddenly likes Peter a whole lot more and that desperate smile instantly becomes completely genuine. Only for a moment later for his jaw to pop open in mock offense. He bounces after Peter, snapping a hand out to smack at the guy's arm.)

All right, first off- no, my hair isn't fluffy. Secondly, that's a horrid- ugh. Never mind.

(He was pretty certain that Peter would go ahead and call him whatever he wanted. Newt let out a loud sigh as if entirely giving up before slouching. His head lifts up and he glances ahead and a bit around. He'd been paying attention to where they were, sure, but that didn't mean he knew where he was going still.)

Are we close?

Hate to break it to you, but your hair is fluffy. Totally fluffy.

[newt is so right, peter is going to call him whatever the hell he wants to at any given moment, because that is just how peter rolls. in fact, newt realizing this earns him a smile.]

Yeah, just around these buildings.

[as promised, it's not long before the armory stands before them. peter pretends to tip a hat and sweeps an arm to invite newt to go in front of him.]

Welcome to the hall of pointy things and heavy blunt objects.

It's tousled.

(Which is completely different, thank you very much. But now he's idly rubbing a hand through his hair. He doesn't really care enough to be insecure but he can't help but wonder- is it fluffy?

As they turn round the corner and approach the armory, all thoughts of hair leave his head. He bypasses Peter and steps inside, eyes large as dinner plates with wonder.)

Holy...

(He instantly moves towards the nearest wall which holds a whole lot of spears. He reaches for one of them and sets it down next to him, holding it in his hand. It goes over his head a couple of inches. He lifts it experimentally into his hand and the weight feels good. Steady.)

Do you know how to use any of this stuff?

(He asks in a conversational way. It's pretty clear he knows enough about the stuff inside to figure it out. He keeps the spear with him and keeps on looking, eyes swinging around. The Glade had an armory too but they had never really used it. It's where he'd gotten his machete but now he wished he'd taken more when he'd last seen it. Ah well.)

Fancy word for fluffy.

[it's obvious in peter's tone that he's just being a shit now, and newt is soon distracted by the armory anyway. peter keeps his hands in his pockets, leaning one shoulder against a nearby wall.]

Nope. Never was much for fighting. You have fun though.

Accurate word.

(He looks over at Peter with a raised brow.)

Not much for fighting?

(He picks up one of the spears from the wall and walks over to Peter before shoving it at him.)

Well you better buck up there, soldier. Kinda seems like there's some fighting that might have to be done in this place. Better safe than sorry, eh?

(A wink and then Newt is gone again. This time looking at swords. He's never used a sword but they were kind of cool looking as hell.)

What's wrong with being a pacifist?

[but he keeps the spear, hefting it, turning it in his hands, feeling what it would be like to throw, or to jab, or slash. it's not the fanciest weapon, that's for sure, but it could still fuck somebody up real good. peter has no real desire to experience being skewered.]

Ummm....dying mostly.

(He's not that big on weapons himself, actually, but after what he just went through with the whole bats thing and what he just came out of from back wherever...It's better to be safe than sorry. For that, he gets one of the long swords that has relatively good balance and a scabbard to keep it in place against his hip.

He digs around and winds up shoving a dozen or so throwing knives into his pack. Last but not least he manages to find a brand new machete and makes a pleased sound at the discovery. It wasn't really something he actively used for violence but it was helpful as all hell in a garden.

He wanders back to Peter, nodding.)

This should do. Are you good to go?

Yeah, it's not that fun. I mean, I hear.

[uh huh, peter. of course. peter uses the spear as a walking stick while he browses around. ultimately, he ends up taking knives for himself, a few of the throwing sort, a fairly standard dagger, and something that looks a lot like a hand-thresher, with a wicked half-moon curve. he doesn't have a belt, but luckily the armory does, and of all things, it's the scythe he chooses to put onto his belt. the dagger he finds a strapped sheath for and attaches to his calf. it doesn't make him feel good to be armed, not really. it just makes him feel like there's something to be armed for.]

Yeah, I'm good.

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