hasibe ozcelik | norea (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
norea) wrote in ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png)
multiversallogs2011-10-29 10:55 pm
norea) wrote in multiversallogs2011-10-29 10:55 pm
001 | OPEN. whatever was inside you is gone now.
Who: Hasibe Ozcelik, open
What: Exploring and a bit of creepiness. MAYBE GHOSTS? ROBBERS? Who knows!
Where: A shady area of town.
When: TODAY.
Notes: I am literally just making stuff up with the door thing. If you let me I will make it into a tiny fun thing to poke at for a day but ultimately it is not plot related or important.
Warnings: Hasi exists, thus ridiculousness follows.
It is normal, Hasi supposes, to forget how much stuff you need on a daily basis. Sheets and forks and clothes (lots of clothes) and a million other little things--they're all part of the make-up of living, and some of them she can manage with cheats, but she prefers not to use magic all the time for everything. Not least because it starts to wear at her after a while, but also because it feels sort of dishonest.
Still, starting over is never easy. She's done it before, so she feels capable, but it's a bit of a jolt.
Two days after her arrival, she accepts, reluctantly, that she's probably not going anywhere any time soon, and takes up a table at the Inn's lobby in order to spread out newspaper clippings and local magazine articles. Most of them are on show business, but there are more than a few that are on politics, hidden amongst the others, as though she's calculatedly made them blend in. In the afternoon, she abandons her table (and its newspapers) for the Skyrail, which she thinks sounds interesting enough to demand exploration while she gets around town.
A shop in the next neighborhood over advertises itself as selling certain acrobatic supplies, and she meanders through the market in question, wrapping her coat a little tighter around herself. The chill doesn't affect her the way it ought to, but sometimes she finds herself playing up her reaction to the cold just because it always looks strange if she feels winter but is never bothered by it. It doesn't quite fit with the ruse, and she's playing up her feeling of being a stranger in a strange world in the market; she looks lost, and she's deliberately not paying too much attention to where she's going.
That fades when she leaves the market, a bag of supplies for her aerial routine in hand (and it cost her a bit more than she should like, but she's not good at minding her money--not to mention she already knows how she'll survive) and a destination in mind. The neighborhood she goes to next is dotted with fairly seedy-looking bars, shoved in between old, dilapidated brick buildings, and she's not completely certain anyone is home, despite the ad she's answering asserting that auditions are that day from twelve to seven. She heads up the stoop to the old building, amusedly ignoring the sound of catcallers from the bar next door, and knocks at the door.
No answer.
She frowns, and takes a step backward, glancing up at the windows. Hasi is able to make out some dim light, but she can't be certain that means anyone is home. She resigns herself to a lack of response, however, and carefully makes her way back down the stairway. Once she hits the sidewalk, the door she was just knocking at blows open with a loud crack of wood on the steel railing. Hasi doesn't quite jump, but she does turn quickly.
It's jarring, and even in Baedal, she's pretty sure, decidedly not normal. Especially since no one's actually behind the now-open door.
(( OOCly, feel free to tag at any of the locations she stops at. Or on the SkyTrain! I am easy! ))
What: Exploring and a bit of creepiness. MAYBE GHOSTS? ROBBERS? Who knows!
Where: A shady area of town.
When: TODAY.
Notes: I am literally just making stuff up with the door thing. If you let me I will make it into a tiny fun thing to poke at for a day but ultimately it is not plot related or important.
Warnings: Hasi exists, thus ridiculousness follows.
It is normal, Hasi supposes, to forget how much stuff you need on a daily basis. Sheets and forks and clothes (lots of clothes) and a million other little things--they're all part of the make-up of living, and some of them she can manage with cheats, but she prefers not to use magic all the time for everything. Not least because it starts to wear at her after a while, but also because it feels sort of dishonest.
Still, starting over is never easy. She's done it before, so she feels capable, but it's a bit of a jolt.
Two days after her arrival, she accepts, reluctantly, that she's probably not going anywhere any time soon, and takes up a table at the Inn's lobby in order to spread out newspaper clippings and local magazine articles. Most of them are on show business, but there are more than a few that are on politics, hidden amongst the others, as though she's calculatedly made them blend in. In the afternoon, she abandons her table (and its newspapers) for the Skyrail, which she thinks sounds interesting enough to demand exploration while she gets around town.
A shop in the next neighborhood over advertises itself as selling certain acrobatic supplies, and she meanders through the market in question, wrapping her coat a little tighter around herself. The chill doesn't affect her the way it ought to, but sometimes she finds herself playing up her reaction to the cold just because it always looks strange if she feels winter but is never bothered by it. It doesn't quite fit with the ruse, and she's playing up her feeling of being a stranger in a strange world in the market; she looks lost, and she's deliberately not paying too much attention to where she's going.
That fades when she leaves the market, a bag of supplies for her aerial routine in hand (and it cost her a bit more than she should like, but she's not good at minding her money--not to mention she already knows how she'll survive) and a destination in mind. The neighborhood she goes to next is dotted with fairly seedy-looking bars, shoved in between old, dilapidated brick buildings, and she's not completely certain anyone is home, despite the ad she's answering asserting that auditions are that day from twelve to seven. She heads up the stoop to the old building, amusedly ignoring the sound of catcallers from the bar next door, and knocks at the door.
No answer.
She frowns, and takes a step backward, glancing up at the windows. Hasi is able to make out some dim light, but she can't be certain that means anyone is home. She resigns herself to a lack of response, however, and carefully makes her way back down the stairway. Once she hits the sidewalk, the door she was just knocking at blows open with a loud crack of wood on the steel railing. Hasi doesn't quite jump, but she does turn quickly.
It's jarring, and even in Baedal, she's pretty sure, decidedly not normal. Especially since no one's actually behind the now-open door.
(( OOCly, feel free to tag at any of the locations she stops at. Or on the SkyTrain! I am easy! ))
Somewhere on the street.
With Velcro in tow, Sebastian checks the map on his CiD to make sure he's heading in the right direction.
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Hasi looks back at the house like it's a slightly annoying child. Really? Is she going to have to do something about this?
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"I think I've the wrong address here. Is this 345 Bell Barn St?"
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"I...don't think so, but you'd know better than me." This comes paired with a nonchalant little shrug. "New girl."
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He's not sure which one he's meant to go to, but from the look of the local buildings, it's probably not here.
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"You're probably quite right," he replies, putting away his CiD and offering to shake hands. "Sebastian LeMat. I think we're in the same cohort?"
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Which is an interesting file system. Nothing to do with similarities, just when you turn up.
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"I've asked around a bit and it seems as if there's always a cohort or two on the go," he replies. Sebastian tends to speak slowly, taking his time to think through what he wants to say before putting it to words. "It's strange, to be sure, but at least there's some sort of order. It shows a minimum of effort on behalf of whoever organizes things, I think."
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Those are two things she could use a lot right now as she finds herself in the less than savory areas of Baedal, looking completely and utter lost. She's not afraid... okay, that's a lie. She's terrified but her face doesn't show it. It shows her confusion at the map on her device and how she managed to misread it so badly to end up in a random street corner rougher part of town. Biscuit, however, does and she practically attaches herself to the back of Angela's legs, jumping at every little sound or strange person that walks by. Any other time, Angela would consider being lost an opportunity for adventure but she hasn't has her coffee yet. Give her time to fall back in the habit of thinking the best of everything; it's been beaten out of her time and time again during the last three years.
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(Arguably criminals are her kind of people, anyway.)
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The voice that hasn't become familiar enough for Angela to recognize in a crowded room anywhere so the greeting falls on deaf eyes and blind eyes that are still turned to the CiD in her hand.
(In contrast, criminals aren't Angela's. Well, drug dealers and the like, maybe. But anything else and Angela has an axe to grind with them.)
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I'm beginning to think your dog is stalking me. Look across the street. PS This neighborhood looks like Jack the Ripper lives here.
One would think that is a sign to leave, but Hasibe figures she can take Jack.
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she's too terrified to stalk anything but her own tail right now. also that's my ex-boyfriend you're talking about.
A joke, but considering the caliber of the people Angela's dated, it's a little too close to the truth to be comfortable.
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My sincerest apologies. Are you out here visiting him, then?
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yeah, but can you believe he told me he wasn't in the mood for sex? what could jack possibly be doing to be too busy to have sex with me?
Angela, you are a horrifying woman sometimes.
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"Angela," she says, in greeting, and then: "Mighty guard dog."
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Worst women ever, really. Angela grins at the greeting, but Biscuit, oh Biscuit, she's excited at another familiar face and a familiar face that compliments here. All she can do is reply with a big loud bark that sounds way too happy to be on a 'mighty guard dog'.
How frightening.
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"Boy, she's got quite a bark on her, doesn't she?"
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"What's a girl like you doing in a place like this?"
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Good-weird.
That taken care of, he makes sure no one's looking when he leaves, his hands in his pockets and gratefully closed around the tiny bottle. He passes by just in time to hear a door slam open and he jumps about a foot in the air, yelping like a startled cat -- afterwards trying to look like he meant to do that all along. Also like a cat.
"That was weird," Wolfgang offers. Helpfully.
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"Very. They're supposed to be having auditions in there, but that doesn't look quite like what I was expecting."
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Then he eyes the building, and the slammed-open door, with clear trepidation. "Auditions for what, horror films?" Someone might as well have spray-painted Bad Idea all over the side of it.
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"...seriously, what is going on there."
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Yes he's putting forth the idea that maybe inside of there are some little old ladies drinking tea or something. ... what, he can dream. (Har har.) The howling's unnerving; he looks unnerved.
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"I guess I'd better go and find out." She tilts her head at the door, and then smiles at Wolfgang. "I don't suppose you feel like investigating, too?"
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He runs a hand through his hair, glances distrustfully at the door, and shrugs. "Might as well, just in case?"
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"Ah, well. Here goes." Up the steps she goes a second time, listening to the stairs creak under her high heels.