[Anniversary Event Starting Log] I Awaken To Another Day...

[thepull_mods]

Who: Open Log! This means everybody!
When: September 1st, 1918. Dawn.
Where: Farmer Whitty's Squash Patch, City of Missionworth (Ye Olde... Baseball Diamond?)
Summary: Midnight on New Years Eve finds the entire Newcomer Community thrust backwards in time...oh, 95 years or so?
Warnings: A lot of potentially drunk people are about to land facefirst in a field. Once word is out that a small horde of strangers have mysteriously arrived on the island, Military Forces will be rounding them up for questioning. You be the judge of how badly this goes.



Whether right in the middle of a rowdy parties as toasts are raised with complementary champagne, or having a quiet evening at home on the couch, watching GloTV's annual Auld Lang Syne Countdown Extravaganza, a sickeningly familiar tug of a feeling suddenly wrenches in the gut of every Newcomer on the island who has been brought here by Pull in the past three years.

As fireworks sound over AGI tower and the clock finishes striking twelve, the world spins. For a dazzling colorful moment, flashing scenes from their stay in Port roll backwards like rewound film before their eyes. It becomes a blur, the Pull drawing tighter and tighter, ears might pop and there's a very good chance the contents of their stomachs might be turned out.

And then there is coolness, a brisk breeze, morning dew and damp earth beneath them all.

The newcomers are scattered across a planted field of winding vines and colorful gourds, which won't be ready for harvesting for another month or so. Several startled crows are circling overhead, screaming. There are no tall towers on the skyline, and there are more surrounding trees, particularly toward the western horizon- golds and oranges of early autumn.

To the east, a picturesque early 20th century settlement stretches to the island shoreline, already bustling with traffic and construction in the early dawn's light. There is no putrid, sick-sweet rotting smell which normally lingers for awhile in the morning fog, after the lifting of darkness.

Two young boys stand agape at the edge of the field for several moment, leaning over a fencepost, then turn and tear off towards a homestead not far away, shouting for their papa.

Welcome to the City of Missionworth. Look's like The Core's decided to give you all a history lesson for the New Year.

Comments

[seclusion]

"Eehhhh..." It's a sound lacking in enthusiasm and steeped in great skepticism. None of this sounds good. He wiggles his toes again, though, both in acknowledgement of Joe's remark and in order to keep the feeling in them. Ahhh, cold dirt all over. Emil shrugs. "I was still awake... I was sitting inside. They were doing a countdown till the new year, and..." No time for shoes.

He turns a bit. "It's lots cleaner here. But there's soot and things..." Emil's a bit too proper to rub his nose on the back of his wrist like he wants to, so he settles at dabbing gently with the heel of his palm. "Did you ever go out just after morning sirens and catch the waning monster smells? I don't get that at all right now. Maybe it is somewhere new. Somewhere without those things." A little twist of his mouth; some more skepticism. "But I don't really smell gasoline either..." They may not be by any roads, but after living so long in nearly virgin wilds, and then arriving in the Port with all its smog and modernism, he can pick out scents like that really easily. At the very least, he figures, there aren't enough cars for it to permeate everything like before. "It really could be somewhere new."

He pauses, listening to the leaf-crunching, soil-shuffling, stumbling nonsense that the other arrivals are getting themselves into. Most everything he hears right now can be summed up as 'disoriented.'

"Either way, it'd be nice to have some greeters this time, too..." he says, twiddling his fingers. "Some people are going to be pretty mad. Oh, geeze, Kainé's going to be pretty mad. I hope no one starts fighting..." He thinks of something. "Are you looking for anyone?"

[madeinoblivion]

"Don't worry." Joe gives his hand another squeeze, shifting a few vines in front of them out of the way with his foot, to give them both room to step forward- or maybe he should just pick the poor guy up from under the arms and haul him over onto the grass? Just so that he's not standing in the mud, or tripping over pumpkins. "If anybody starts fighting, I'll protect you."

Ugh- listen to all his heroics. He sounds just like Sora, and not even for a princess, just a boy who's apparently blind. He uses his nose to find things- and so does Joe, sometimes, when darkness and light is involved, but not so much as Riku...who also spend almost a year of his life blindfolded. He should introduce them-

Once he finds Riku. But best friends first.

"Roxas and Xion. They were home with me- but I see them, they're right over there." He swings an arm overhead to wave frantically at them, calling over the confusion and babble of nearby voices... there's Iroh, with a girl he knows from the superheroing as 'Songbird'.

"Hey guys! Turn around, I'm right behind you!"

[seclusion]

"Oh, you found them, that's good," Emil says, pleasantly, relieved. He's got one of his hands clutched loosely up near his chest, and sets one foot carefully forward, toeing around before taking a step. He seems used to the ginger action, at least, and certainly doesn't topple over or anything. "Yeah, I think we should be all right. And - " Brightly, and earnestly, he turns his face toward Joe, and, smiling, gives a nod of assurance. "I'll protect you too! It's best if we both do it, right? I don't want anything to happen to you, either."

He doesn't sound frightened at all, now, just very grateful, and quite certain of what he's just said. Anyway, it can sometimes be hard to let people protect him, since there's the risk of them being hurt, and no one should hurt for him. It's just not right.

He does pause for a moment, though, and looks a little like he wants to wobble, but refrains from doing so. "There are an awful lot of people in this field," he says vaguely, swiveling his head around this way and that. The cluster of anxious voices is more than he used to; it's a little bit overwhelming for him. "Say, you don't see any sticks laying around, do you? Any long ones?"

[madeinoblivion]

Joe smirks a little, glad that Emil can't really see the look on his face, which is a skeptical-fond sort of 'that's cute'. A kid like this, protect him? How could he manage that? Still, it was nothing to hold against someone who couldn't see at all, who needed help learning how to use a microwave by learning the little indentations of the buttons, and where all the keypad numbers were.

Still, cooking with a microwave was much safer without eyes than trying to cook on a stove. And Emil had been getting by alright, by the looks of him now.

"Sure." He shrugged, to humor him, trying not to sound too dubious. "You can protect me too."

"Sticks?" And then he remembers blind people he's seen on the subway before, wearing sunglasses, and poles with little balls on the tips. That's probably the sort of think Emil wants, and so he scans the ground, shaking his head. "No, it's all like- vines and not-ready-yet pumpkins and stuff."

"Oh! Wait-" The sound of his voice brightens. "There's a scarecrow over there, I could take the arm pole off, maybe?"