[SEMI-OPEN]

[acreage]

WHO: Amos Burton, James Holden, Wysteria, Ellis, and YOU
WHAT: Two spacemen fall out of a rift, later explore scenic Kirkwall
WHEN: Nnnnowish? Waves hands
WHERE: The Wounded Coast, then Kirkwall
NOTES: A closed arrival thread, plus open individual threads for meeting Amos and/or Jim after their quarantine period.

Comments

AMOS, LATER

[acreage]

MESS HALL, OPEN.

[innerharbor]

Amos is a large man, minding his own business, until he isn't. It's breakfast, or it's lunch, or whatever the fuck, but Amos looks up from eating his food with a frown, and turns to the nearest person at table. "Wait," he says, "is this real meat?"

[justashotaway]

He's asked exactly the right person. Laura nods, as if this is the most normal question she's ever heard, and then she says, "I think it is nug."

As if to punctuate the statement, she pulls a glimmering lyrium claw to stab a chunk of meat on her plate: nug drenched in gravy, mashed turnip, and something green she still hasn't figured out the name of.

[innerharbor]

Well, that's a bit disappointing. He frowns a little, poking the food with his fork that probably isn't made of an aluminum compound. Looks at the pot, which is probably clay or stone and not some recycled polymer alloy.

"So, some new strand of soy." Like mung beans. "Damn impressive."

[justashotaway]

"What is soy?" Nothing about nugs is strandlike, aside from the way the meat pulls apart when you cut it--but that's true of all meat, as far as she knows. And she's eaten enough different foods in the past year that she knows that the food at the Gallows is not considered "impressive" by most.

[innerharbor]

"S'a bean," Amos says, poking at his 'nug'. "Meat substitute. High in protein."

have another teen

[windyvoice]

Jenny Lou is a sleepy eyed young woman, trying and failing not to fall asleep over a mug that's probably coffee. She blinks at the question, hauling herself up a little to look at what he's eating.

"Yeah?" She squints at it, "Looks like meat. What's it taste like?" She hasn't run into any weird taste sensations since coming here, but it's not like it's impossible either.

[innerharbor]

Amos stares at the food, then at the girl, and blankly wonders which misstep he made trying to make his question clear. "Meat."

[windyvoice]

"Then it's meat," she says, settling back down into her sleepy slump on the other side of the table, though she keeps her head propped up to look at the guy, "You're new, yeah? Do they not have like meat-meat where you're from?"

GALLOWS, OPEN.

[innerharbor]

Amos' hands are bloody red, fingernails crusted over, and swipes of it have dried pink onto his beard.

He's eating a pomegranate.

It's not bad. It's actually incredibly great. He plans to save some of it for later and make Holden eat it, but that's for later. For now, Amos reaches out with red fingers to grab at the nearest passerby.

He holds up a half-eaten pomegranate. "What the fuck is this?"

[tender]

The first glance, clocking all the red, is startling. But it passes quickly, giving way to some minor confusion which is more or less dispelled by the shard in his elbow.

"Pomegranate," Derrica answers. "A type of fruit."

And it seems like he has it more or less figured out. She shifts the strap of her satchel more securely on to her shoulder, forward momentum passing.

"Is the kitchen passing them out?"

[innerharbor]

There was an intensity to her, and it faded, and- oh. The red. Probably looked like blood from far away.

He would laugh, if he were the type.

"Some guy was selling them cheap." He knew it was fruit. The rest was a fucking mystery, though. But fresh fruit? For only a few shiny coins? Jesus Christ. He holds out the remains-- not messy or smashed, but carefully segmented and separated. "You want it?"

[tender]

A moment of contemplating, her head tipping to the side as she sizes him up, before she slides the strap of her satchel off her shoulder and takes a seat on the bench beside him, settling the bag with a soft clink of bottles on the table at her elbow.

"Just one part," she says. "You should have the rest."

That's polite, not to take too much of his snack.

"I'm Derrica," she tacks on, by way of explanation, clearly intending to sit for at least a short time with him.

LOWTOWN, OPEN.

[innerharbor]

Amos feels more comfortable in Darktown, sure, but that's probably something he should keep his eye on rather than lean into. There's parts of yourself you have to watch, to let grow or shrink, to control. Lowtown is a world away from Darktown, and anybody who doesn't see that's a fucking idiot.

It also doesn't matter.

A shout goes through the crowd. Thief! Thief! Amos looks over his shoulder, but the thief is an adult, and stupid slow. It takes only a slight shift of weight to punch the guy's ticket, punching him so hard into the face that the thief is flat on his back and dazed.

Amos picks up the stolen bag. "You want this?"

[okayimin]

Sawbones is returning from her rounds, nearly bowled over in the process when the erstwhile thief rushes past her. She doesn't see how the man winds up on his back, being barely hip height to most Surfacers, but she does hear the crunch of bone and the soft plop of a body hitting dirt.

She sighs and moves forward, because of course. Lowtown wasn't her territory per say, but Sister or Sawbones, no part of her was inclined to walk away when it could very well be one of hers involved. She doesn't recognize the man holding the bag. The man on the ground however...

"Thadeus Ermington, you stone deaf nug fucked shit," she snaps, storming over to glare down at the dazed man, "What the pit do you think you're doing!" At least it was a local trouble maker instead of any of Riftwatch.

[innerharbor]

There is something to be said for seeing a gal about as tall as Mei tear somebody a new one. Whatever stone deaf and nug fucked means, anyway. Sounds serious.

And Amos is still holding the bag.

"This yours?"

[okayimin]

"No, but I reckon I know where to look. This idiot always gets into dumb shit when he's in his cups." She doesn't take the bag, opting instead to lean over Ermington to check his face. Impressively busted for one hit and she was not inclined to fix the idiot's nose, considering.

"Thinks he's so blasted clever," she says to no one in particular, shoving Ermington over onto his side while he starts to protest his innocence piteously. The guard is as lax as ever, but she can hear the clomp of boots headed their way, "And then things like this happen." She turns back to the man, still holding the bag. "Help me get him up, would you? We can pass him off to the guard when they get their lazy asses here."

THE WOUNDED COAST, OPEN.

[innerharbor]

Amos has to go back to the ocean. He didn't get a good look at it. The water is blue. It comes right up to the sand. There's no wall, no decades old trash, no grime.

It's just a beach. A natural beach. He's seen things like this in holos and paintings and advertisements. Baltimore is right next to the ocean-- Amos had his own boat, even-- but the ocean wasn't like this. The islands were made of trash, drowned barges and plastic tubing. This is... something completely the fuck else.

He takes off his shoes and wades forward, before spotting something dying in the sand. He doesn't know it, but the thing he's poking with a stuck is a dying jellyfish. "What's got a nose big enough to sneeze you out, huh?"

you needed another thread with me, right

[acreage]

"Careful."

Holden's busying himself, mostly, with the idea of keeping watch. Making sure no more green rips in the sky open above them, or any unfriendlies find them with their guards down. Or, who knows, any other goddamn monsters try to kill them.

"It could be poisonous."

It's less that he remembers any jellyfish facts specifically, and more that he has a vague impression from a picture book from childhood, and also knows that there are non-fish things in the oceans, that can be poisonous. Which is about the extent of his sea creature knowledge.

uh yes.

[innerharbor]

It could be poisonous. Amos immediately stabs the thing in the gooey bit he's decided is the head.

He looks up at the Cap. "You been chatting up a fisherman?"

[acreage]

He doesn't quite laugh, but he exhales in a way that's halfway there.

"Not yet, but that's not a bad idea. We could use more information about this place, while we're here."

Avoid another poison slugs incident, for example.

[muckspout]

Edgard is collecting seashells and putting them in a jar when he sees a man he hasn't met poking a jellyfish. He approaches the man, but stays well away from the water.

"If somebody sneezed that out, they have bigger problems than the size of their nose. I wouldn't touch it."

[innerharbor]

"Should I kill it?" Amos stares at the dirty ocean thing, and the dirty human thing, and considers his options. "Is it dead?"

[muckspout]

Edgard looks at the jellyfish and then cocks his head looking at the stranger.

"I don't know if its alive or not, but it won't hurt you if you don't touch it. The ocean will take care of it either way."

Edgard is a little suspicious of a man so quick to kill something not bothering him.

THE WOUNDED COAST, OPEN.

[innerharbor]

And, eventually, he can't take it anymore. Amos climbs to the highest rock he can, overlooking the water. He takes off his boots, jumpsuit, his shirt, folding them all neatly and tucking them away in the high branches of a tree.

And he jumps into the ocean, Geronimo! echoing off the rocks.