maskormenacelogs | wolves in the middle of town [open]

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wolves in the middle of town [open]

WHO: Nicolas & you & you & also you!
WHERE: Heropa #028 and other places in Heropa.
WHEN: Early November.
WHAT: A Russian Werewolf in Florida, sadly not a movie whatsoever.
WARNINGS: n/a currently.

@ Heropa #028

[ Oh yes, the American government giving him a house to stay in. That should be good fun. Now, don't get him wrong, he's fine with a lot of American things, actually; movies, music, cars, a lot of anything he could get his paws on before and after the dissolution, along with things from other places. Here, though, it's hard to not feel watched, apparently stuck in a universe where the Cold War has persisted.

Who likes a target on their back, anyway?

But actually arriving at the house, #028, a lot of the wariness will drop once he's actually inside. It's a nice house, nicer than he's used to. Then again, anything is nicer when you're used to roving about with no home at all. The best part, though... ]

Ha! It's huge! [ That TV set. Flat screen? And so thin?! And big! ] And... wait. Where do the tapes go?

[ So, yeah, there's a grungy man with a Russian accent tromping around the living room in clothes far better suited for winter than Florida, boots, thick trench coat, scarf, gloves and all. He hasn't bothered to take anything off, but, lucky them, he hasn't had time to find mud to trek through on the way in. He's also fascinated by the entertainment system, trying to figure out where the VHS tapes are meant to go, looking under, behind, all over it. ]

@ downtown Heropa

Ah, excuse me, could you tell me wh-- oh. [ Okay, another person speeding up to avoid him. That's... expected. Nicolas turns towards the next nearest local, raising a hand to get their attention instead. ] Could you-- no?

[ He isn't sure if he's being avoided because he's an imPort or because, unfortunately, he can't hide his accent. It could be both. It could also be neither, considering he's rather ill-kept looking and probably drawing strange looks for his grungy winter clothing. The heat is burdensome, but this is all he has. To take any layer off might mean misplacing it. ]

...well then... maybe I should just find a map.

[ Because he certainly isn't willing to force the issue with any of the people trying to ignore him. ]

@ late night Heropa

[ Even if he did ever find a map, there are better ways to learn the in and outs of a town. Once the sun is down and the moon is high up, he takes to the darker streets in a form less paranoid about losing his clothing. Admittedly, it's still with him, just not in any visible way. A wolf flits through the alleys and back yards of Heropa, getting a taste for the scents, the flora, the other fauna. It's vastly different from what he's used to, although he can't complain at the lack of snow.

Of course, his passing won't go unnoticed.

It sets off dogs here and there, wild barking going up on occasion, and drunks stumbling home from closing bars startling at the biggest "dog" they've ever seen crossing their path, but Nicolas doesn't linger, not for them. Someone a little faster, though, perhaps another imPort...

Well, they might be able to catch up with a wayward wolf wandering a Florida town. ]

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

[ In fairness, d'Artagnan isn't in Heropa all that often. He doesn't know it as well as De Chima, and probably never will - being down here already makes him feel like he's stepped into another season. That being said, it's obvious that none of the people who are actually local to the place are going out of their way to help this man. D'Artagnan is not sure why - he knows the accent is different, but doesn't know enough to place it as Russian.

What is clear is that he's from elsewhere, and that he's entirely overdressed for Florida. That he's an import, and a recently arrived import, seems likely. With a wry smile, d'Artagnan shakes his head and goes up to him. ]

Excuse me, Monsieur. Forgive me, but you seem lost. Where is it that you're looking for?

[ For his part, d'Artagnan seems no more local than Nicolas. His leathers are old-fashioned, given that he's gone back to wearing his own clothes instead of what's considered modern and fashionable here. He's also openly carrying a sword and flintlock pistol, and there's a pauldron on his right shoulder that marks him as a Musketeer.

To people who would recognise it, of course. ]

[ What men still carry swords on them?

That's what draws a curious look from Nicolas when he turns to d'Artagnan, though the relief that someone is actually stopping to help him by far overrides than the former. Not that he can be one to judge. He's similarly armed, only a dagger is much easier to disguise, especially under how many layers he insists on wearing even in this heat. ]

Um, well... [ Only now that someone is addressing him, he shifts about uncertainly. It takes a moment for him to focus and actually make eye contact. ] I am looking for a library. If not one of those, anywhere else with books. History books.

[ D'Artagnan looks curiously, mostly at what he perceives to be the man's shyness. He'd been seeking assistance only a moment ago; is he embarrassed by the need for it now?

He nods, though. He is not much of a reader, but he's more than capable of directing people who are. He nudges his head to the side, beckoning Nicolas to come with him. ]

This way. You're looking to see what's different, I suppose? A lot of imports say this world isn't like their own. They have museums as well, if you want.

[ There's a difference between trying to get someone's attention and then actually having that attention, but it isn't a difficulty that Nicolas lingers on. He'll get over it, especially once they start moving. Of course he follows along after d'Artagnan. ]

Yes, although if I will find an unbiased accounting... [ He shrugs, resigned. ] I do not know how well I would stomach museums just yet. These people say they are still at war with my home, so what could I possibly find in those?

You're Russian?

[ Well, that explains a few things. D'Artagnan has never considered what might befall an import who was from the wrong place. D'Artagnan is no American either, but he's not from a country that these people appear to have any problem with.

And presumably, this man cannot just go to Russia itself. Not from here. No, the government would be very quick to prevent that, he imagines. He's frowning. ]

You'd find nothing you like, I imagine. I would not say that they are at war, since that presupposes fighting of some kind. There is none.

But they're on the edge of it, and have been for some time, I think. I'm sorry. It cannot be easy for you to see any of this.

Mm.

[ A general affirmative sound, rather than a yes. ]

And that is why they call it a cold war, my friend. [ Well, not really friend, but. They aren't enemies, right? ] They rattle their swords at one another, but neither makes any moves, not directly. If you look closer, you will probably find, ah, other more real fights, around the world... Ones they are funding against one another.

[ Like a really gross game of chess! Still, he's much more removed from the human population of Russia and the former Soviet states. If he weren't, this might sting worse. At most, it's irritating. Not that he shows it much, doing his best to at least look neutral when strolling past the pedestrian population of Heropa. ]

Spies, too. [ Ah, but he's certainly quick to add: ] But not me. It was finally over a few years back, on my Earth. Still a mess, but over.

[ This is a better explanation of what’s going on than has ever been given to d’Artagnan. Most people assume a certain level of knowledge, or talk about it in vague terms that explain very little of anything.

Now, he frowns, his arms folded over his chest. ]

And now you are stranded on the wrong side.

This is all yet to happen in my world. It’s a long way in the future, and I doubt that I shall ever see it.

Were you drawn into it, when it happened in yours? How did it end?

[ Lucky him, then, he's found the right person to ask. To an extent, anyway. ]

Wrong in their eyes, maybe, but when you're just a civilian, do you really have a choice in sides?

[ Right. "Civilian". Although he does carry himself like one or, at least, someone who likes to make himself look small and unimportant. ]

No. I was never drawn into it, but life was not the easiest at times. [ And he offers a small shrug with that, apologetic, perhaps, for how dull that must sound. ] It ended when everything began falling apart. We got a new leader who started backing off on how the Soviet Union was being run, made it easier for nations to part ways again with it, more peacefully. There was still violence, eh, but...

[ There's just too much history. ]

It disbanded in 1991.

[ There. Summary. Although speaking of years, Nicolas gives d'Artagnan a wary look, almost suspicious. ]

You say it has yet to happen for you. How far back are you from? You're French, aren't you?

[ Super old Frenchmen? In Florida? More likely than you think! ]

I am.

[ D'Artagnan is as out of place here as the Russian, honestly. He has no stronger alliance to America. In fact his only alliance to this place is the fact that he's Registered, which has more to do with his desire to be on the right side of the law than anything else.

Even if he were to go to France here, after all, it would not be his France. ]

But this is 2015, and I am from 1631. It's quite a difference, and from what I've heard, France has changed a good deal since my day. I'm a Musketeer of the King, and it's my understanding the people turned against him.

[ Which still does not sit well. D'Artagnan doesn't belong in this time. He looks at Nicolas, lifting his shoulders. ]

It's unlikely I'll ever see this Cold War in my own world. Unless it lasts for longer than anyone says.

[ 1631...

Nicolas lets out a low whistle, impressed. Now that's out of time, way more out of time than he is. ]

And I thought that was only a book. Um, well. You are right. You won't see it. There are a lot of wars you will not see, although I imagine that is something to be thankful for.

[ Yes, that's generally the reaction he gets. D'Artagnan is not the only one who is displaced from time here, but so far as he knows, he and his brothers are 'older' than most. Some are from just as far away, but because they are from the future, they seem able to assimilate better. It's irritating, to say the least.

He lifts his hand, rubbing the back of his neck. ]

A history book, perhaps. I don't know what you know of that time, but the truth is, I'm supposed to be at war now. My France declared war on Spain just before we came here. My brothers and I were about to leave for the front, until we were taken.

There's little I would not do to see that war. It's where I belong. The thought of my countrymen fighting without me is not a pleasant one - though, of course, they tell me here that it does not work that way. That all is frozen, somehow, until we return, and that when we do none will ever know we were gone. It seems a fantasy - but then, so does much of what we see here.

[ He resists the urge to say "no, a story book". Truly, French history isn't his forte, so maybe these people really did all exist in the past. The war, too, isn't one he knows of, and so he can only listen and nod a bit, although at the end he can't help but grimace some. ]

I am sorry, but you must be the only person in the world who wants to be at a war.

[ Though maybe a fight you choose is different from a fight you're forced into. Or... Frenchie here is just really weird. Possibly both. ]

Though if it happened on this Earth as it did on yours, why not look up the outcome?

[ D’Artagnan smiles, his look a little wry. ]

I don’t want to be at war. I want to be at home with my wife, but it’s my duty to be at war. That’s not something I would have fled from, given the choice.

[ And if he could, he’d return to it right now. That would be the right thing to do, and that’s what has always mattered to d’Artagnan.

As for looking up the ending, he shakes his head. ]

I think discovering my own personal future like that would do more harm than good. I don’t know if it would be the same, here in this other world. I could see an outcome I don’t like, and then worry over nothing. Or see one I do, and rely on it when I should not. I would rather see the truth for myself.

Then you are a braver man than I.

[ That's all he'll say on anything else towards war, especially now that duty's been brought into it. His own are just as disrupted by a sudden and unexpected world, but, in his case, they're best left unmentioned.

He looks ahead thoughtfully, giving a moment of thought to what else d'Artagnan says, but he will nod at the end. ]

That is fair. I will have to keep that in mind, too. [ Of course, supernatural history wouldn't appear in a library back home, either. ] Especially since it's already proven not to be the same for me. [ After that, there's another pause, but one much, much shorter. ] Ah...

[ He looks back over at the musketeer, giving the side of his head a sheepish scratch. ]

Sorry. I'm Nicolas. I should have said earlier, but...

[ Calling his decision brave makes d’Artagnan shoot a curious look in Nicolas’ direction – but he accepts what he says, anyway. It doesn’t occur to him that duty might be a sticking point. His own bias tells him too clearly of the importance of duty, and unless he knows otherwise, he expects the same of others.

With a smile, he holds out his hand. ]

I’m d’Artagnan. I’m glad to meet you. It’s far too easy to ignore those pleasantries here.

Two others of my friends are here – Athos, and Porthos – and we live on a farm, just outside De Chima. If you should ever find yourself alone here, any one of us will treat you kindly.

[ The war with Russia belongs to America. D’Artagnan will not judge this man just because he’s from the same country in another world. He’s conscious that others will, though. ]

[ He almost asks "shouldn't there be a fourth one", but perhaps not. The book was only a story, read very long ago. Instead, he returns d'Artagnan's curious look, but not over anything over duty and, in Nicolas' case, the failure of. No, it's for something else. ]

A farm? The musketeers live on a farm now?

[ That's... quaint. Still, he smiles some. ]

That is a kind offer, but you should not be so quick to invite strangers over, should you?

[ Yes, they live on a farm. D'Artagnan's expression is a little wry. ]

Yes. Not exactly a garrison, I know, but let's just say we're working on that.

[ He grew up on a farm. He'd also purposely left that life behind, so his feelings on returning to it are mixed. It doesn't feel like home, because his home is Paris now.

Still, nowhere in this world could really feel like home. Perhaps it's best. ]

We aren't very afraid of strangers, honestly. And you seem like you'll have enough suspicion to contend with here.

Oh? So not so scared that I'm secretly an evil spy after all?

[ Again, in jest. He probably shouldn't joke like that where others can hear, but what's the point? People will decide what he is and isn't on snap judgement, anyway. He can only hope most will understand. ]

But I think I will be fine. It's survivable. What's the worst they will do? Refuse to serve me? Say mean things behind my back? There are worse fates.

If you were a spy, there'd be better places to look than around our farm.

[ The Musketeers don't have anything to hide. At least, not here; they barely even have possessions here, actually. It's fair to say they're not really used to having an income that's disposable. ]

I don't believe any ill will come to you. The people may be wary, but they can't arrest you just for being Russian. They barely even punish actual criminals here, never mind that.

[ He will spy on their horses and cabbages, clearly. ]

True. It would not even be counted as spying on Americans, would it?

[ Nicolas isn't even sure what France was up to during all that time, even less what they might be doing now. Though that joke aside, d'Artagnan's complaint on punishing criminals draws a more focused, much more curious look than anything else has yet.

Well, apart from the "being a super old musketeer" part. That one's hard to top. ]

They don't? What do you mean?

[ D'Artagnan grimaces, and lifts his shoulders. Native criminals probably get more standard treatment, in all fairness. At least, standard for modern times. It still wouldn't be standard in d'Artagnan's eyes. No, to him the whole justice system is altogether too lenient here.

But for imports, it's particularly so. ]

When an import steps out of line, they'll give months in prison when it ought to be years. One man committed mass murder and caused terrible harm to many others, not so very long ago. You'll hear of him soon, enough, if you haven't already. His name is Crane.

He'll be released to house arrest within the month. It's ridiculous, but they'll not be talked out of it.

The man from the network?

[ Oh. So that's what the fuss was about. His brow furrows, a frown to go with it. ]

And they think no one will take justice into their own hands, releasing him so soon?

[ D'Artagnan smiles, his expression wry. He's thought the same thing himself.

It's just that there's no good it could do. ]

Attacking him would be a criminal act in itself. Believe me, where I'm from he would have been hanged. But he's an import, and our deaths are not often permanent here. You'd be risking him returning to testify against you, and I don't believe he should have the satisfaction.

We need to make the justice system better, not open it wide to vigilantes.

[ See, that's one thing they failed to mention. Nicolas stops walking immediately. Forget about Crane, some human criminal is hardly important all of the sudden. ]

What? How can death not be permanent?

Ah.

[ D'Artagnan turns, giving him a rough and uncertain smile. It's really more of a grimace. ]

It's not something I've experienced, but that's the rumour. They have a material of some kind, which they use to revive us. I think it has something to do with these things.

[ He pulls his sleeve up, showing Nicholas his tattoo. It marks him as 'Registered', of course. ]

There's something inside us, linked to the tattoo. I don't fully understand that, either, but I know that it's there. They're called nanites. These are names that don't mean much to me, but perhaps they'll mean something to you.

wolves in the middle of town [open]

Downtown Heropa

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