time takes a cigarette, puts it in your mouth

[gramarye]

Who: Wolfgang & open
What: "Aggressively normal" may be an oxymoron.
Where: Various places -- mostly Bonetown, Brock Marsh, Griss Twist, and anywhere in between.
When: Over the period of a week.
Notes: Plz feel free to tag in at any of the points he stops at, or have your character be anywhere random and I can have him be there coincidentally! c:
Warnings: None, will update as necessary.

Good, safe, predictable routines -- this is always Wolfgang's goal, and it always winds up being easier than anticipated. Easier than the last, anyway. Baedal itself may have been a shock, but some people are better suited at rebuilding from nothing, and it hasn't taken him long to establish one of his good, safe, predictable routines.

Living in Bonetown has helped; he's found things have calmed down since he's moved there, although he's not sure why. No more cats following him home, strange visions out of the corner of his eye that are gone when he turns his head (and prompt people to ask why he's twitching so much). He still doesn't sleep much, but the dreams feel muted, and he rarely remembers them upon waking, is just left with the impression of some terrible old dread, and an even worse certainty that if he starts to remember again, he'll wish he never knew. He keeps taking his pills anyway.

Newdi to Veerdi, he works at TeeMuu, which is shaping up to be the longest job he's ever held -- the campus is so large and his position is so unimportant that nobody actually ever notices where he is or what he's doing, so nobody cares if he disappears for a bit (he gets dizzy sometimes and needs to sit down) or how long it takes him to do things as long as they get done. He likes the library the best, and has been known to ask the librarians there to hold certain volumes for him until his shift is over -- he has a voracious appetite for books. He is friendly to the other staff, but largely ignored by the students, which suits him. Next semester, he may audit some classes, he keeps thinking.

Between and after shifts, he takes odd jobs around the city. His medication is expensive, and one job isn't enough to pay for it and support himself. It's not unusual to see his head of white-blonde hair towering over everyone around him in every part of the city, going from one place to another.

After work he takes the train back to Bonetown but doesn't stay long in his apartment -- for one thing it is approximately the size of a showbox, and for another he's so restless. He stops at bars, where he drinks alone -- too shy to approach anyone else, and nervous when they talk to him -- or cafes if he has the money to eat out, which is rare.

On Sukkardis, he goes to the market, buys groceries and occasionally, when he has the extra marks, a couple little homey things that his apartment needs -- you never think how much detritus you build up in your life until it occurs to you that you need something to hold your toothbrush in, or wouldn't it be nice to have a place to store your shoes instead of in a pile on the floor. Flea markets attract his attention more than proper shops.

On Shundis, he goes to Griss Twist to meet a man about some pills. He is painfully out of place there despite his best effort at blending in -- simple clothes, hair pulled back -- but he's only cautious, not afraid. He's not as fragile as he looks.

Comments

[apostatised]

Martel works too hard.

This is almost objective fact, at this point; between the time he puts in at the library and the fact he's slowly ascended to essentially running Hellsing's training program, he runs himself ragged and finds little time for anything that isn't work. It's easier, lately, to think forward and not back, and it can't last, he can't last like this, but as it has yet to stop him-- here he is, with one of the few things he does have time for: these small moments of oddly grudging thoughtfulness, kindnesses he dresses up in irritation.

He's not very good at being a good person, and he was never a terribly nice one, but he catches himself arranging his offices the way Vanion would and bristles at himself.

"Wolfgang," he says, briskly, carrying a set of books under his arm as he moves to intercept.