[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

[littlest_lord]

There's a sigh from the farmer as he eyes the two of them one last time before looking down to the boys at his sides.

"Hurry in and take them with you, fix them some tea or milk. I don't care. I need to deal with the commotion in the field."

Having decided the two aren't a threat (how can they be, in nightgowns and looking so pathetic?) the man makes his way off toward the crowd in his field, clearly not pleased, mumbling to himself about how they better not be ruining his crop before harvest.

"...Come on then." The older of the two said, gesturing for Alois and Ciel to follow. Into the house they went, sitting down as instructed at a small wooden table, two teacups set out for them as the kettle was filled with water and set on the stove.

"You're not with them then...that group in the field?" The answer was two shaking heads - no.

[faking]

"Thought we'd wandered in to some festival or something," Alois says nervously, rubbing one of Ciel's hands in between his, trying to get some warmth back into that skin. "You really don't know what's happened either?"

"We come out for morning chores," the younger boy says, hauling himself up to sit atop the kitchen counter. "And then we seen all those folk stumbling around." He scrubs at his nose with his wrist, watching Ciel and Alois with open curiosity. "We figured you was some of them, but you look like you just come out of bed."

The older brother swats at the younger. "Mom's going to holler if she sees you up there." He turns to his chilly guests, a little skeptical. "It's weird you ended up here of all places. What were you sick with? Is it... catching?"

At least by now the feeling's coming back to Alois' toes. He worries his bottom lip for a moment. "We catch fever sometimes..." he says vaguely, thinking, Nosy cunt. "But no one's been sick from us; Uncle looks after us just fine and hasn't taken ill." He leans his shoulder against Ciel's. "Your father has a lot to deal with this morning, hasn't he? Is the army truly coming out?"

[littlest_lord]

"That's what father said." The younger of the two pipes up. They're in control in these parts, what with the war and all."

That's all that came out however, the kettle whistling from the stove distracting the two brothers as the elder fixed tea in a teapot, setting it on the table for the two to pour themselves.

"Thank you."

Alois decided to pour the tea, taking the initiative. Ciel had never been more glad for a warm drink than that moment.

"You wouldn't be able to tell us how to get into town, would you? Where the church might be?"

[faking]

The church? Really? Alois glances at Ciel, but is wise enough to keep a glare at bay. He's prideful, and a church is the last place he wants to go. Ciel probably has a good plan, and Alois knows this, but decides to doubt him for the sake of being petty. Instead he plays mother for Ciel and himself, and makes a show of his nervous smile as he sets the teapot aside. "Yes, that would be best. I'm certain we could get ahold of Uncle from there."

"Dad wants you to stay put," the elder says, skeptical again, but his little brother seems to like the sense of power he can achieve by taking charge of this situation.

"Not that far," the kid blurts out, and ignores his big brother's glower. "Well, might take a half hour walk." He pauses, and looks Ciel up and down, likely taking in how pathetic and scrawny the barefoot boy is. "Dunno, forty-five," he amends. "You don't got shoes though. You won't wait?"

"We shouldn't," Alois says gracefully, then sipping his tea. He closes his eyes. "I don't know how long we've been gone, and I promised I'd look after him no matter what, and..." Oh, how sympathetic he can bring his face to be. "Mustn't tarry," he murmurs, incredibly British for the brothers' benefit. "We really must find our way there."

The younger brother nods, with a deep sense of purpose, and scrambles to fetch a scrap of paper and a pen so that he can scribble out a crude map of which directions they need to go in order to find the church. The older brother still isn't liking it, though. "But the army's coming," he protests.

[littlest_lord]

And it's that protest that makes Ciel ever more urgent to leave as he warms his fingers around the mug of tea. Forty five minutes of walking sounds brutal, especially in the chilly morning air and without shoes. It's necessary, however. The army is the last thing Ciel wants to deal with and even worse - they could very easily end up separated from one another.

When the map is drawn it's set upon the table and stared at intently. The younger brother's babbled explanation is listened to as Ciel nods and, in understanding, takes the map and folds it up.

"How long till they arrive, do you think?"

The elder pauses for a moment before responding, still not pleased. "Twenty minutes at most." The tea is hot so it's hard to drink quickly, but Ciel manages a few sips without burning his tongue. "I see. We really ought to go then."