Aleifr Bjornsson (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
aleifr) wrote in ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png)
dualislogs2019-06-24 10:15 am
aleifr) wrote in dualislogs2019-06-24 10:15 am
A Restless First Night
WHO: Aleifr and anyone who feels like chatting with the viking at 2:30AM.
WHAT: Some first-night insomnia.
WHERE: The Dorms
WHEN: Late night on June 17th to early morning on the 18th.
WARNINGS: Nothing at first, will update if that changes.
[It’s clear fairly early on that Aleifr’s first night in Dualis wouldn’t be a restful one. He just couldn’t set himself at ease, and it wasn’t just the bombing, though knowing that something so damned small could do so much damage certainly didn’t help.
[He just didn’t like being here.
[He didn’t like the fact that he was a half-dozen floors off the ground, in a building that’d come tumbling down within minutes during one of Fenris’s summer quakes. Or that he was surrounded by similar ones on all sides.
[He didn’t like the unfamiliar city-noise and harsh neon that managed to worm its way in through the window recessed in the far wall. He was used to near silence at night; gently whistling winds carrying the soft crackle of a campfire or the murmurs of a distant conversation, not the thundering rumble of speeding light trains. If a night got that loud on Fenris, it was either feast day revelery, or you needed to be on your feet with an axe in your hand.
[He didn’t like that he was trapped in this bloody city. He didn’t like that he’d been dragged here against his will on someone’s whim. He didn’t like that he had no idea why either. He’d been given some vague answer about curing a plague when he was brought here, but he didn’t know if that was true, or what the hell part he was supposed to play in that design if it was. He fucking hated that there was nothing that he could do about it.
[He didn’t like sleeping alone, either. Wasn’t used to it anymore.
[He’d still made an effort to try, if only so he wouldn’t be sleep deprived while dealing with whatever tomorrow brings. He might have been able to find an hour or two if he was on his own furs, but even the bed worked against him. It was too damned soft, and no matter which way he lay he couldn’t shake the feeling that he was sinking into it.
[Needless to say, sleep didn’t come. All he did was toss and turn for a few hours until he grew sick of it.
[He decided he needed to do something. Walk. Memorize his surroundings, get something to eat, something to drink … Busy himself until sleep started to sound appealing again, really. Anything but lay around in that fucking bed.
[So he’d pulled on his loose-fitting undertunic, slid on his footwraps, and gone to do just that.
[Anyone who happens to be awake can find him. He’s not a hard man to spot. Maybe they catch him as they exit his room. Maybe they find him in the kitchen, digging through the contents of that strange little box that keeps everything cold. If they’re on the roof for some reason, they might even find him up there - staring out across the city, taking in the sight of it and trying to commit landmarks to memory so that he has some rough picture of the place in his head to navigate by.
[He’s awake for a good, long while that night. Plenty of opportunity.]
WHAT: Some first-night insomnia.
WHERE: The Dorms
WHEN: Late night on June 17th to early morning on the 18th.
WARNINGS: Nothing at first, will update if that changes.
[It’s clear fairly early on that Aleifr’s first night in Dualis wouldn’t be a restful one. He just couldn’t set himself at ease, and it wasn’t just the bombing, though knowing that something so damned small could do so much damage certainly didn’t help.
[He just didn’t like being here.
[He didn’t like the fact that he was a half-dozen floors off the ground, in a building that’d come tumbling down within minutes during one of Fenris’s summer quakes. Or that he was surrounded by similar ones on all sides.
[He didn’t like the unfamiliar city-noise and harsh neon that managed to worm its way in through the window recessed in the far wall. He was used to near silence at night; gently whistling winds carrying the soft crackle of a campfire or the murmurs of a distant conversation, not the thundering rumble of speeding light trains. If a night got that loud on Fenris, it was either feast day revelery, or you needed to be on your feet with an axe in your hand.
[He didn’t like that he was trapped in this bloody city. He didn’t like that he’d been dragged here against his will on someone’s whim. He didn’t like that he had no idea why either. He’d been given some vague answer about curing a plague when he was brought here, but he didn’t know if that was true, or what the hell part he was supposed to play in that design if it was. He fucking hated that there was nothing that he could do about it.
[He didn’t like sleeping alone, either. Wasn’t used to it anymore.
[He’d still made an effort to try, if only so he wouldn’t be sleep deprived while dealing with whatever tomorrow brings. He might have been able to find an hour or two if he was on his own furs, but even the bed worked against him. It was too damned soft, and no matter which way he lay he couldn’t shake the feeling that he was sinking into it.
[Needless to say, sleep didn’t come. All he did was toss and turn for a few hours until he grew sick of it.
[He decided he needed to do something. Walk. Memorize his surroundings, get something to eat, something to drink … Busy himself until sleep started to sound appealing again, really. Anything but lay around in that fucking bed.
[So he’d pulled on his loose-fitting undertunic, slid on his footwraps, and gone to do just that.
[Anyone who happens to be awake can find him. He’s not a hard man to spot. Maybe they catch him as they exit his room. Maybe they find him in the kitchen, digging through the contents of that strange little box that keeps everything cold. If they’re on the roof for some reason, they might even find him up there - staring out across the city, taking in the sight of it and trying to commit landmarks to memory so that he has some rough picture of the place in his head to navigate by.
[He’s awake for a good, long while that night. Plenty of opportunity.]