dualislogs | A Restless First Night

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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.]

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[ Sharon knew the moment she laid her head down on the foreign pillow, on the foreign bed, in the foreign room, she'd get no sleep. Fear and worry ate at her mind, thoughts frenzied and spiraling, always collapsing to the same subject no matter their starting point: she is so far from her father and so very alone in a world she doesn't know how to handle.

It turns her stomach. It crushes her. It eats away at her sanity.

It doesn't take long before she's got her shoes on, slipping out of the door, no real destination in mind. Her feet take her down the hall, and then up the stairs, and finally out the door marked ROOF ACCESS. Maybe she just needs to breathe. The door clicks shut and her heart sinks with disappointment when she spots Aleifr. ]

Shit. [ The word comes out without much thought on her part and she winces. ] Sorry. [ He probably came up here to be alone, too. ] I didn't really think anyone else would bother coming up here...

Can't sleep or just a night owl? [ Maybe she should leave him alone, it'd be the most comfortable thing for the both of them (or for her), but she lingers. She doesn't want to go back downstairs, not yet. ]

Cissie steps into the kitchen and hesitates when she sees that someone is already in there, raiding the fridge. Still, she can't sleep and there's no reason not to have a snack herself. She clears her throat so as not to startle the... very large... other person.

"Hi. Sorry to interrupt. I guess midnight snacks are universal?"

[Aleifr looks back over his shoulder at the sound of the door creaking open behind him.]

It's fine. [He grunts, waving a hand as if to wave away her concerns.] Don't own the place, you've as much right to it as I do.

[And despite the resting scowl on his face or the hardness of his icy blue eyes, he doesn't particularly mind company. Now especially.]

Can't sleep. [A beat.] You?

She clears her throat and the very large, heavily tattooed man crouching in front of the fridge looks up ... although 'up' might not be the most accurate description. Even hunched over, he's roughly her height.

"Apparently." He replies with a slight shrug of his shoulders. "Don't know what the hell half of this is, though."

Cissie laughs, nodding in agreement as she makes her way into the kitchen. She begins opening cupboards and drawers, taking stock of the supplies as they talk.

“Yeah, I’m not sure of much more than half, myself. I was mostly hoping there’d be stuff here to make some hot chocolate. I’ve missed that. But tea or warm milk would do, I guess.” She glances over her shoulder at him and offers a smile. “I’m Cissie, by the way.”

"Aleifr." He introduces himself in turn, rounding the 'A' at the start of his name to the point that it almost sounds like an 'O'. He greets her with a small bow of his head instead of a smile. No terseness meant by it, it's just his way.

He's silent for a beat, his attention drifting back to the contents of the fridge momentarily. Then, a question forms and his head pokes up over the fridge door again.

"Hot chocolate?" He'd seen it before, on the menu of the little coffee shop he'd ducked into earlier in the day. Still had no bloody clue what it was.

[ She doesn't feel like she has much of a right to anything here. She feels so out of place, though judging from the man's style of dress, maybe not quite as much as he might. ]

Can't sleep either. [ The dark circles beneath her eyes imply it's something she may routinely have trouble with. ] There's just so much to deal with.

[ She's overwhelmed, she's frightened, though she tries to appear otherwise. Holds herself tall, keeps any waver from her voice. This place is just another thing she has to get through. Another obstacle to her father and freedom. ] I kind of don't know how anyone is sleeping right now. We're all stuck on another world and it's kind of fucked up.

[ What an understatement and, honestly, a pretty good reason to have sleep trouble. ]

[It is. But from the state of her, it doesn't seem to be the start or the end of her troubles ...

[He's curious, and if she looks at him hard enough, she'll see that. He won't ask though. He's a stranger to her. Probably not the person she wants to discuss whatever's troubling her with.]

Some of them have done it before. Gone to other worlds.

[Strange as it might be to him, and evidently her as well, you probably get used to it sooner or later. Of course, there's a difference between voyaging between worlds and being dragged to one against their will.]

Personally, I think you've got the right of it. [He snarls.] Don't like the smell of this -- any of it.

Edited 2019-06-25 07:59 (UTC)

"It's a drink," she explains, smiling over her shoulder at him. It doesn't take a genius to see that Aleifr is a bit of a fish out of water here; his clothes, his mannerism, everything about him says that he's out of his element. "Do they have chocolate where you're from? Or--when?"

Aleifr doesn't offer a verbal response, just a confused shrug. He's got no idea if there's chocolate on Fenris. If there is, he's never heard of it.

[Being in the military teaches you to sleep anytime, anywhere. There's a bed and the door locks behind her, which makes for better accommodations than Mira's often had in the past, so regardless of Aleifr's restlessness, she's asleep within minutes of her head hitting the pillow.

Being in the military also teaches you to wake instantly for something out of the ordinary...like that reassuringly lockable door opening in the dead of night. When Aleifr doesn't return in time for it to be merely a bathroom trip, Mira sits up to pull on her boots and retie her ponytail. She's not so relaxed she isn't sleeping fully dressed.

For some reason, she feels responsible for Aleifr, a faintly ludicrous idea. Fenrisians don't need to be baby-sat--the Kaerls are the only mortals in the galaxy who measure up against Kasrkin, for Emperor's sake. But...Aleifr's not a Kaerl. He's a feral tribesman suddenly dropped into a society he can't possibly understand, and she's the only person equipped to meet him halfway.

For lack of a better idea, Mira seeks him out where she (or any other self-respecting Guardsman) would go. Her instinct proves correct when she comes upon him in their floor's kitchen, bent double in front of the refrigerator.]

Aleifr.

[Aleifr's eyes turn to the door as it swings open. He pauses momentarily as Mira enters, briefly wondering why she's there before the answer becomes obvious. At which point, his attention returns to the contents of the fridge.]

Mira.

[She has a question, she'll ask him. He doesn't need to look at her for her to do it.].

Apologies if I woke you.

Edited 2019-06-26 07:47 (UTC)

No harm done.

[No enemy action and nothing's on fire. This is a perfectly fine midnight wake-up.

Mira finds a spot to lean against the counter where she can see both the door and Aleifr's uninformative back.]

Can't sleep?

No.

[Said without looking away from the fridge.]

City's too loud, don't trust whoever brought us here, and the bed's too damned soft.

[He hesitates for a beat.]

Empty, too.

[Fortunately for Mira's composure, that's much too matter-of-fact to be a proposition.]

You've someone at home?

[Not a normal question in the Guard--romance doesn't tend to survive a lifetime apart with messages every few years. She doesn't know how it works on Fenris, but he probably never expected to be separated from his tribe by anything but death.]

Edited 2019-06-27 14:01 (UTC)

[Probably a bit morose for a proposition as well. Aleifr's moods aren't always readily apparent, but as he straightens up and turns around to actually face Mira, both his voice and his omnipresent scowl are ... softer, than what appears to be his baseline. More melancholic.]

My wife.

[This is some domestic feeling crap. Yondu is used to the noise of engines. He's also been used to his officers basically asleep in the same area like a grotesque stinky dog-pile of space savages. Ones that mostly got along, up until everything went downhill (understatement).]

[This is too comfortable. He has a bed and a whole room. He doesn't have the snores of ten other men. He doesn't have the smell of engines drowning out the scent of sweat. This is too damn normal.]

[Yondu walks in mostly dressed. Leather pants, waistcoat, dress shirt. Coat and scarf gone. Which means a very blue man dressed in dark reds strolls towards one of the kitchens, wanting to find something random to eat hopefully abandoned in the fridge. Maybe a full stomach would help him sleep. He's obviously some sort of warrior himself, mostly distinguishable by the fact that his hand and face wear a zigzagged assortment of scars. Something like he was caught in a burning net as some point. Some knife wounds across his face. Then there's that big metal fin jutting out of his head like a mohawk.]

[He passes by Aleifr, glancing at him with red eyes briefly as he goes. But as he looks pretty par for the course as much of his crew would look, he thinks he's about the most normal Terran he's come across so far, and leaves him with a casual-] Evenin'.

Cissie waits a moment to see if he's going to offer any more information, but when he doesn't say anything, she just smiles and turns back to her preparations. "Chocolate's sweet. It can come in a powder that you can stir into a drink, or solid like a block, and there are a lot of different kinds of it. It can be really dark and kind of bitter, or it can be more milky and sweeter, at least in bar form. There's also white chocolate, but that's actually not chocolate at all, because chocolate is made from cocoa beans and white chocolate doesn't have any cocoa in it at all, so I really don't know why they even call it chocolate." She pauses in front of the stove, taking a moment to figure out the controls. "Anyway, hot chocolate is a drink made from milk and either powdered or solid chocolate that you melt in, sometimes with things like vanilla or cinnamon added to it, and if you really want to be fancy, you can put marshmallows or whipped cream on top, but it's good just plain, too."

Cissie pulls a face, and turns to give him a sheepish look. "...Sorry. I--ramble sometimes. Especially when I'm nervous or in a weird place. Would you like to try some?"

[ She hadn't heard that others here have done this world traveling thing before all this but it doesn't surprise her too much, not given the pure oddity of the situation. Look at the kinds of people she's seen, from the magical to the technological; people with powers, people that don't exist where she comes from. It'd all be way cooler if she was prepared for this; if she'd had a choice.

He's as unsettled and bothered by all this as she is, though, and that knowledge, though it changes nothing, helps her feel more justified in her feelings. Her anger, her uncertainty, her fear, they're not misplaced. They have a reason to be bothered, right? ]

We're basically captives. [ She mutters, almost horrified at the realization, as if it hadn't really settled on her before. They've been stolen. From their families. From their lovers. From their duties. From their very lives. Her heart clenches. She shouldn't linger too long on those thoughts, she knows. ] How are we supposed to trust anything they've told us?

[ She knows he can't really give her an answer but she appreciates that he seems to be similarly unsettled and bothered; that helps. ]

For whatever it's worth, he listens to the entire explanation without interjecting or any sign of visible irritation. Her answer was more elaborate than he'd been expecting - and it was peppered with things he didn't understand - but he'd asked her what the hell it was. He wasn't going to begrudge her for being thorough, so he simply shakes his head, waving off the idea that it was any sort of bother.

"It's alright." He grunts. "My wife deals with nerves the same way."

More jokes when Aila does it, though.

Edited 2019-07-02 04:13 (UTC)

On faith.

[Said with sarcastic bitterness that suggests that he trusts none of they've said to him and all the rest. The fingers on one hand flex and curl into a fist for a moment before relaxing, but there's anger in his eyes.

[He's powerless here, for now. He has no idea how he was brought here, where 'here' is in relation to home, or how to find his way back, and he hates every facet of that.]

[Aleifr hears someone else enter and looks up over the door of the fridge at the newcomer.

[He's not quiet as alien as some of the people Aleifr has seen since arriving in Dualis, but alien enough to someone who'd never seen a non-human before that morning.]

Evening.

[There's a bit of wariness in his eyes. Not fear, not hate ... but the same wariness towards anything unfamiliar that Fenris breeds into all her children. A justified thing when you come from a place where what you don't know often cuts your thread.]

I thought most of y'all Terrans slept at night.

[He's guessing it's insomnia, and it's just idle conversational dialog as he eases his way into the kitchen. Yondu can see the wariness there. And, honestly, there's no real harm in somebody being scared of you. But there's harm in not engaging in some sort of communication facilitating opening relations no matter how thickly applied the bullshit called upon for it is.]

[He goes to rifle through the cabinets. He finds a cup of something, the sort of something you rehydrate, and after turning it in his hand to find the directions, he starts looking for a kettle or something similar to eat up some water.]

Or are ya from somewhere else?

Fenris.

[He doesn't bother asking if that means anything to the blue man. He's done it a dozen times today and it's only meant something to one person.]

You?

[Never seen a blue man before.]

Never heard o' that one. Which is odd, 'cause I been around. Maybe it's another name...

[Victory! An electric kettle of a thing. It's probably been there since the days of yore but hell, if he can use it he can use it.]

I'm from Proxima Centauri. You heard o' that one? [He peels off the top of the cup-o-noodles or whatever off space brand it is, waiting for the water to boil.]

[Probably not, if he hasn't seen many blue people, but it's worth the question.]

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A Restless First Night

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