multiversallogs | a day in the life.

Entry tags:

a day in the life.

Who: Sonja Garin, open
What: Errands!
Where: Assorted.
When: Rebecca Black knows what's up.
Warnings: Sonja exists. Put on a real shirt, Sonja.
Note:

Since returning from the boat trip, Sonja has settled a little bit. Not, notably, to any degree that indicates she has given up on going home, and that probably won't stop for a while, but she has the little house in Raven's Gate where she and Ilde stay, and that's good enough for right now. She leaves early, armed beneath her jacket, but not before going over a list of what they need for the household with Ilde, which...has some specializations. They're particular girls. Sonja's aware she needs to stockpile magically as much as she does weapons, but that's considerably more obscure in terms of resources.

Her first stop involves seeing a man about jailbreaking her CiD, a process which is turning out to be more involved than she thought. The neighborhood is dubious, and she at one point has to side-step a fairly inept pickpocket, who receives nary a backwards glance--the withering one she sent him moments earlier was enough. Not long after, she hears a woman cry out, and watches the boy go racing through the crowd, inexpensive ladies' handbag clutched in his fists.

Next, weapons stores. This takes her all over the city, comparing and contrasting what it has to offer--there are a couple of locations, but they tend to vary considerably due to the diverse neighborhoods. Ammunition is extremely difficult to come by, so the fact that there are places which sell more modern arms is fascinating (what is there to equip them with? They're treated almost like collectibles, not functional items), though she observes bows and swords are in greater supply. She ends up picking up some throwing knives, figuring she can at least amuse herself with practice.

She walks along the river's side for a while afterward, at one point hopping deftly up onto a tall stone wall that should be...entirely too narrow to walk the length of, and yet she manages. Bar one Skyrail trip, she's mostly spent her time traveling on foot--it gives her a better idea of the city.

There's a pretty nice-looking bar nearby. That's where she's headed. Predictably.

[ OOC: How this works! Sonja will be at each of the locations mentioned throughout the day and evening, and can meet characters at any ol' location. Just specify the where, and we're good to go! ]

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Jack's taken to walking along the river whenever he gets a chance. It's not as good as the bay, and so far he hasn't found any buildings that are tall enough or in the right locations to take to hanging out on top of, but he knows that the right one will show up eventually. And so he finds himself walking along the side of a river, hands in the pockets of his greatcoat as he thinks. He almost doesn't notice her up there on that wall. Almost.

"You know," he calls out, from a bit of a distance away, not too suddenly he hopes, "I'd hate to fall off of a wall like that one. You better have some pretty good balance, there."

Her back is to him, so she knows he won't see the small grin that elicits--it's a fair enough thing to say. But it also gives her an excuse to turn around, which she does (expression smoothed out to a more amiable interest), deftly enough, so that she can take a few steps backwards. It requires a little more concentration, but she wouldn't be up here if she weren't confident in her ability to stay up.

"I'm doing okay thus far. You want to give it a try?"

Jack shakes his head. "Not particularly, no. Especially not if I've got you to be compared with. It'd be pretty embarrassing to fall off with a witness around, after all." He grins, making his way closer to where she is until he's standing next to the wall, gazing up at her. "Do you always take the road less traveled, then, or was that wall just too tempting to pass up?"

"I like heights." It's as simple as that for her, really. She stops to regard Jack from above, trying to figure out if she's seen him in her Network trawls. She's endeavored to be pretty consistent about reading things that have been left public, but since she missed a decent amount of time while on her fog travels, she's been a bit behind.

"And it's a decent way of getting a look around this city." Sonja glances around, like punctuation. "'City of kidnappings'."

"That an official nickname for the place, then, or something that you made up on your own?" he asks, with a cheeky grin. "What can you see from up there that's of any interest, then? Anything good?" Jack himself is a fan of heights, after all, but walking along tall walls isn't really his style, per se. He likes high buildings to stand and watch out over the city on instead.

"Let's call it a pet name." She glances out over the city, briefly. It's still so strange to be in civilization--and she refuses to describe New York at home as being truly civilized, even if the city is arguably functioning as it did prior to the apocalypse.

"Mostly I can see that I am a hell of a long way from home."

Her tone isn't morose, especially, but the contrasts are undeniable.

"But we all are, aren't we. Is it strange for you, too?"

Jack shrugs, but when he speaks he agrees with her. "Yeah, it is. I mean. I'm used to traveling. Or at least I was before I settled down where I came from. I got kinda used to being there, though, so being uprooted and stuck here against my will..."

He makes a bit of a face. "I'm kinda not liking that fact very much. This place is a hell of a long way from Cardiff as well," he says, quirking a smile. It's as close to a home as he's got. Luckily, Ianto's with him, so at least he's got a piece of it with him, but. He wants to go back. Rather desperately, in fact.

"This isn't exactly on anyone's travel brochure," she concedes with a nod. Sonja comes to a slowed halt on the wall, and sits down at the edge of it; if they're going to chat, this is probably a little more conducive.

"Last jailbreak didn't go so well, though. The locals really like to try to deter us from trying to leave."

"Jailbreak?" Jack asks, tilting his head, curious. "How d'you mean? What happened?" Jack isn't sure whether he knows about this escape attempt or not, after all. There could be new information to gleam out of her, after all...

Lex is admittedly one of those people looking at weapons as collectibles, but it is also in conjunction with how well the weapon still functions. He is doing his best to recreate his home from before Baedal where the walls are littered with close range combat weapons and various guns are kept in more hidden areas. One of the many lessons Lex was taught growing up was that "you're not a Luthor unless someone is trying to kill you." He couldn't yet tell if that were true here, but it didn't hurt to be prepared.

When he sees the woman in the shop also looking at arms he notices that she hadn't exactly arrived empty handed. "Excuse me," he says by way of getting her attention. "May I ask for your advice?"

She turns to look Lex over--he doesn't seem the sort to hang out here, but it takes all kinds. One thing she's learned in the past five years is that almost everybody feels better with a gun in the house, even if it's not always as practical as they'd think. Sonja's pause is brief and considering, concluding in her deciding there's no harm in lending her not inconsiderable experience; she was the attack dog at home for a reason. (And that reason is she's just unsettlingly good at killing things.)

"Sure."

...she's talky. But she's genuinely interested!

Edited 2011-05-21 08:21 (UTC)

"I'm looking to arm myself." That much is probably obvious. "I don't have the funds right now for anything too extravagant, but I am trained in the use of firearms and close combat. If I could only leave here with two items with which to defend myself, what would you recommend?"

She takes a moment before responding, and her second-once over of Lex is more analytical. Sonja rests one hand on her hip, shifting the sit of her leather jacket.

"Don't get guns here. I'd tell you to get a microgun if bullets were more readily accessible, but..." She shrugs. "If you're looking for concealment, get a flick knife to start out with. That's your basic physical weapon. Your last resort, excepting hand-to-hand combat."

Sonja reaches out to pull a switchblade off the shelf nearby. It's technically not something she should be messing with, but the clerk up front isn't paying attention, and frankly, she knows what she's doing. With one barely-there flick, she opens the switchblade up, and then closes it again. She extends the knife to Lex.

"Show me."

Her nonchalant confidence is a little distressing sometimes, but she just wants to see how he handles the knife.

Edited 2011-05-22 19:44 (UTC)

Lex is more than proficient with swords, guns, and hand to hand combat, but knives are a huge blind spot in his training from back home. He couldn't back down now after seeking this woman's help and decided to use what he did know and apply it to the blade.

Taking the handle he has no trouble opening the switchblade and not a moment later lunges at Sonja with it, knife directed at her neck. His manner of movement most likely gives away that he is primarily a swordsman, but what he lacks in technique he makes up for in audacity.

Well.

That was unexpected, although she finds it charming. Sonja's reflexes, agility, and strength are all supernaturally augmented, although the last is her weakest suit if only because she is not a very big person and plays to her strengths--still, she's quick on her feet, and that serves her well, here.

Her hand comes up under his wrist, instinctively, and she moves forward to essentially pin his knife-wielding hand to the wall with her own. Her height is a bonus here, too; she can meet his eyes with ease, and does, at the proximity. This is probably a hell of an introduction to Sonja, but no one who dresses like she does and knows that much about weaponry is bound to be normal.

"Not bad," she says, and when she lets go and steps away, she's smiling.

"What's going on over there?" The clerk calls, having heard...whatever that was.

Sonja's not the only one who is charmed. When she pulls away Lex grins, pleased that he's found exactly the kind of experience he'd been looking for. When the clerk calls to them, Lex replies with a pleasantly nonchalant answer of "shopping."

He then turns to Sonja, closing the blade and holding the knife alongside his face. "I suppose this means I'll take it. Is there anything else I need to take for a test drive?"

If the clerk gets too uppity, Lex is prepared to pay him for his troubles. He doesn't have nearly as much funds as he does back home, but old habits die hard.

She raises her eyebrows with mild amusement at his answer to the store's employee. The question requires only a few moments of consideration--they have close combat covered, now it's time for something that extends across a distance.

"Single-hand crossbow. Bolts are easier to find here, and the nice thing about a crossbow is that body armor is pretty much moot where they're concerned. They'll go right through it and out the other side."

...helpful, young lady.

She steps back a pace and glances over her shoulder to discern where the bows might be located. None of them are nocked, of course, but she moves over there, anyway.

"You'll want to try a few and figure out what you like the feel of, but you strike me as the kind of guy who knows what he likes."

He hadn't even considered anything of the arrow variety. What Sonja was saying made sense, especially if guns weren't an option. He follows Sonja and regards the weapons thoughtfully, dismissing those that seem too heavy to be practical and too light to be effective.

Setting the knife on a nearby counter where he can reach it again, Lex begins to lift a few of the crossbows, testing their weight. It doesn't take him long to settle on one that he likes the feel of and he holds it up as if to shoot. Lex knows that he is most likely doing this with completely wrong form but he's here to learn and a Luthor is never one to be bashful.

"Is it too much to ask for a demonstration?"

She shakes her head a little in response, and reaches for a crossbow of her own--she already can guess what make will suit her best. Sonja demonstrates the grip required. "Watch how you're holding this--here. Not too tightly. The thing about a crossbow is they're powerful, and unlike with a gun, you need a lot more precision to aim correctly. You never depress the trigger too hard; a light tap can still go right through someone's heart."

There's a pause.

"You're used to guns, you said. Hand-to-hand. Anything else?"

Lex does his best to follow her lead, mimicking the hold on the crossbow. He then lightly presses his finger against the trigger to gauge just how much force is needed. Sonja was right, it didn't appear to be much.

He then sets down the crossbow next to the knife, forming his own shopping cart. "I fence back home. I realize that it's not the same as what you have," he nods his head to the sword strapped at her back, "but I'm more than proficient with both the foil and saber."

It's not bragging if it's true.

"Those aren't bad." She prefers the saber, a bit, but she can appreciate fencing on its own merits. While some people might ask how or why he learned, Sonja's less inclined to ask questions like that than average--people will volunteer the information they want her to know, she assumes, and she's sparing with her own details.

This she does say, however: "Not as ideal in my line of work, but they serve their purpose."

"I want a sword," he declares frankly. It's not as a spoiled rich boy who feels like he can't live without with toys, but as it is a weapon he has quite a bit of proficiency with Lex would feel at a dangerous disadvantage without one. "You know the city better than I, is there a shop that sells anything better than 'not bad'?"

Ilde heads home from the river first - to shower, reapply the bandages that she took off to soak in the river (it makes more sense if you realize that the water will quicken the process, not get her infected), have something to eat and wander around with a newspaper and without pants or glamour for a while - before she digs her CiD out from where she dropped it under her laundry and texts Sonja the following:

accidentally got job babysitting egos. meet you?

jesus, better you than me. at bar. [address]

Please do imagine Sonja in that line of work.

Faintly amused by the response, Ilde finds a pair of shoes instead of texting back and hops on a train to save time; barhopping is probably not a good idea for her, generally, but Sonja's there, she'll be fine. She can always wander out and fall in the river later, if need be. (Problem solving the fey way.)

Sonja is generally sort of hard to miss in a crowd, so it doesn't take long for Ilde to find her way to her. By way of greeting, and the air quotes are audible, "'Interior designer'."

Sonja drinks old-fashioneds, apparently. She had to do a little finagling with the bartender, who's used to a different breed of alcoholic design, but they figured it out.

"Really."

She pauses.

"How much are you getting paid?"

Priorities.

"Not sure yet. I have to meet with them - Luthor, Veidt." Ilde's going to order something pathetically weak and probably still weave when she walks out of here, but by this point her alcohol tolerance is like the running gag of their buddy cop movie and it's fine. "They're renovating first."

If all else fails, Sonja will pick her up over her shoulder like a sack of drunk fairy potatoes.

"That's so...domestic." She supposes people do need to do that sort of thing here, it just strikes her as funny. "You like them so far?"

Ilde makes a so-so gesture, with a little laugh, accepting her glass from the bartender - if they stay long enough (...likely) she'll probably end up trying to find out if she can get a decent brandy alexander here - to taste. "So far. They're a familiar sort." She considers for a moment before saying, "I used to know how to get around men like that."

Sonja used to...sort of handle men like that--well, she handled them for Lucas, who is the epitome of men like that, but her methods are probably not Ilde's. (Sex and violence, always, sometimes the crossing of the streams.)

"As an adult, now, not a teenager." She watches Ilde for a second. "I think it's one of those things you don't forget."

While Ilde is not as much of a stranger to trying to get her way around such men with sex as she should be - self-destructive teenage girls who are presented avenues of misbehaviour tend to take them, especially when they think they can handle it, that they're in charge, that they're so much fucking smarter than everybody else - for the most part as a young girl her methods were a little more doe-eyed than that. People have a habit of making a pet out of her, and she accordingly has a habit of taking advantage of it.

(She got away with a lot.)

"I hope so," she says, raising her glass in a lazy, brief salute. "I have my doubts the cello is going to be much use to us."

They both spent their teens trapped in a lot of ways, both even having to do with how they looked--but Sonja looks human, and it's the physical attributes she has that are most obvious that kept her locked up. It's probably no wonder she uses sex as a weapon now, too; she learned it professionally before she was old enough to vote.

They all survived the apocalypse in their own ways.

"If they get out of line, just say you're going to buy a lot of wicker furniture and leave it on their patio."

"I'll put rows of plastic ducks in their bedrooms," she suggests another idle threat, tipping her head back for a moment to consider the ceiling. There's nothing especially interesting up there, she's just not in the mood to be as still as she sometimes is; stillness is a defense mechanism from traps both metaphorical (pre-2006) and literal (post-2006), and Ilde's inclination to defiance doesn't stop at her own instincts. "Rows and rows and rows."

"Ducks?"

Why ducks, Ilde. Sonja gives her a sidelong look.

"You know, those-" there's a gesture here that serves mainly to indicate that, predictably, the alcohol doesn't have to be very strong to go directly to Ilde's head, "-those little rows of ducks in flight. Made of plastic. They're tacky." Surely this makes perfect sense.

It is somewhere in one of those weapons stores that she crosses paths with Kriv, though he is headed not for the weapons rack - not yet, anyway - but for the maintenance supplies. He is already armed, after all, but even fine sturdy enchanted gear needs looking-after. A warrior's equipment is his life...and, perhaps more practically, an adventurer's equipment is his livelihood. Even here: Hellsing isn't paying him to do battle with strong words.

He is not often one to begin a conversation without some purpose in mind, but when the woman's weapon selection catches his attention as he passes by, he cannot hold his tongue. "The knives, truly? What possible good is a weapon you've thrown away?"

She raises her eyebrows and gives Kriv an impassive once-over before responding. Her options are myriad, here: be really patronizing, be annoyed, be deadpan...she usually chooses the last, and this is no exception.

Sonja shrugs one shoulder.

"Generally, it's to kill people. That bias extend to all ranged weapons?"

Edited 2011-05-27 10:24 (UTC)

He half-sneers, baring a sliver of a row of long teeth. This is pretty much the dragonborn idea of a civil debate, yes.

"A crossbow isn't a dozen feet from your hand after you have fired it once."

"And if you're out of ammunition, crossbow bolts, and just want somebody dead, a throwing knife does it pretty quickly. Are they difficult for you?"

She gives him a casual once-over, speculative.

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a day in the life.

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[armory]

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ed is alive now \(._.)/

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