[ Great news, he looks much better on Saturday than the day prior. Not amazing, because all he had to work with was Cabin water and his fingers to try to comb through his hair, but he's not so covered in grime anymore.
What he's wearing might depend somewhat on the mod answer it's nebulous for now. But he probably at least has his practical eyepatch back rather than the odd flower on a string.
He pauses at being spoken to. He'd kind of forgotten about his hunger these last twelve or so hours, and while it's not the unnaturally grating, supernaturally exhausting famishedness he'd come to know, he realises he's objectively starving. ]
Terrible. Flavour's for the rich and famous. But it's something.
[He does look better. Much more his age, though the color's failed to return to his cheeks. It's worrisome. They're marginally provided for but that doesn't include medication. If someone falls under the weather they won't be able to do much for them.]
No, it isn't. I am aware that it would be for the best to change it out with sterile cloth, but the closest thing I've got right now are the robes, which aren't exactly the cleanest either.
If this continues on for much longer, I may have to abandon a cover for the time being, but I'd prefer not to.
No, I'd think not. Especially not after we rolled around in the swamp fetching our boxes.
[His is a grim dilemma. And eyes are so close to the brain, too. What's the likelihood of infection taking a violent turn on a dime?]
See, that's another thing I don't get. We have accommodations, amenities. Food that sucks but it's enough, and it's not restricted portions either. But no medication. [She shakes her head and pushes her food around with a fork.] And no word from our mysterious benefactors yet, so. What's the purpose? Is it a test? Are we building up to something?
Life's borderline sustainable here. But only just.
[ Imagine that's how I die off-schedule. No clean eyepatch replacements. ]
...
It is strange that we seem to have been left to our own devices this long. It's already morning. Not a single hostile thing to come out of the woods. No odd lights, not even a ominous dream.
Sure, what we have sucks, but it's objectively better than being attacked.
...
The architecture style is pretty old. At least half a decade or more before.
[Thank god you aren't asking for the exact year because i just went on a spiral trying to pin it down]
Well, they are states, and they are supposedly united. [She scratches something on her knee, traced with one finger.] There's fifty of them. And it started as a colonial overhaul about 200 years prior, courtesy of our good friends from Europe. Ousted the native populations and plundered the land. Very charming stuff.
I know some parts of Europa have made contact and established routes with the western Vinland, but it's barely explorable and hardly inhabitable from what I hear...
...
Whiskey and tobacco imported from there is pretty sought-after though.
[The use of Vinland tickles at her mind. She's not a history buff but that might correlate with something more than being a knockoff Finland.]
Hm. Sounds like it's less conquered than the west coast in our 1940s. Whisky and tobacco though, we do have that.
Maybe... I don't know. There could be echoes between our worlds. I know there's theories like that — realities created from alternate choices. What if you had done this instead of that, what if this happened here instead of there. Things like that.
Or maybe there's only similarities because we're looking for them.
If we really are dealing with a forty different realities crammed into one spot, I doubt we can rely on the usual context clues for help. We're probably at some in between place.
Little we can do in our current state, but once we have our bearings better... guess I'll see if there isn't some way to break out of those looping woods and fog.
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What he's wearing might depend somewhat on the mod answer it's nebulous for now. But he probably at least has his practical eyepatch back rather than the odd flower on a string.
He pauses at being spoken to. He'd kind of forgotten about his hunger these last twelve or so hours, and while it's not the unnaturally grating, supernaturally exhausting famishedness he'd come to know, he realises he's objectively starving. ]
How's the food?
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[He does look better. Much more his age, though the color's failed to return to his cheeks. It's worrisome. They're marginally provided for but that doesn't include medication. If someone falls under the weather they won't be able to do much for them.]
That's not fresh, is it?
[Eyepatch.]
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[ Huh. He raises a brow slightly, but. ]
No, it isn't. I am aware that it would be for the best to change it out with sterile cloth, but the closest thing I've got right now are the robes, which aren't exactly the cleanest either.
If this continues on for much longer, I may have to abandon a cover for the time being, but I'd prefer not to.
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[His is a grim dilemma. And eyes are so close to the brain, too. What's the likelihood of infection taking a violent turn on a dime?]
See, that's another thing I don't get. We have accommodations, amenities. Food that sucks but it's enough, and it's not restricted portions either. But no medication. [She shakes her head and pushes her food around with a fork.] And no word from our mysterious benefactors yet, so. What's the purpose? Is it a test? Are we building up to something?
Life's borderline sustainable here. But only just.
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...
It is strange that we seem to have been left to our own devices this long. It's already morning. Not a single hostile thing to come out of the woods. No odd lights, not even a ominous dream.
Sure, what we have sucks, but it's objectively better than being attacked.
...
The architecture style is pretty old. At least half a decade or more before.
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Looks like a century or two to me. But I guess we're all coming from wildly different perspectives.
On that note — where are you from? And when?
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[ Now that at this point Iwatooshi has told him he's from like 3 centuries into the future. ]
1942, Europa. The closest thing I'd call to home would be Rondon, if any of that means anything to you.
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Well, there's a London. In Europe. A letter off each, but they're there. 1942 though, you guys have a big war going on by any chance?
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...There is. The Second Great War's only just reached agreements to a peace treaty, after the Kaiser took a certain city in Bohemia.
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You're fucking with me.
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[ Enjoy his slightly off to the left history lesson. ]
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[What a coincidence.]
Well, if it makes you feel any better, I'm not living in one. I'm well into the 2000s. Chicago, United States of America.
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The future, again...
I'm afraid I'm not familiar with these particular United States.
[ Oh please, give him more information about the USA. I have very funny lore about this. ]
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Well, they are states, and they are supposedly united. [She scratches something on her knee, traced with one finger.] There's fifty of them. And it started as a colonial overhaul about 200 years prior, courtesy of our good friends from Europe. Ousted the native populations and plundered the land. Very charming stuff.
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[ The fact that it's so similar is very funny. ]
I know some parts of Europa have made contact and established routes with the western Vinland, but it's barely explorable and hardly inhabitable from what I hear...
...
Whiskey and tobacco imported from there is pretty sought-after though.
no subject
[The use of Vinland tickles at her mind. She's not a history buff but that might correlate with something more than being a knockoff Finland.]
Hm. Sounds like it's less conquered than the west coast in our 1940s. Whisky and tobacco though, we do have that.
Maybe... I don't know. There could be echoes between our worlds. I know there's theories like that — realities created from alternate choices. What if you had done this instead of that, what if this happened here instead of there. Things like that.
Or maybe there's only similarities because we're looking for them.
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It could be either. Unfortunately, I don't think options A nor B really help us grasp where we are now.
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If we really are dealing with a forty different realities crammed into one spot, I doubt we can rely on the usual context clues for help. We're probably at some in between place.
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[ But he sighs, softly. ]
Little we can do in our current state, but once we have our bearings better... guess I'll see if there isn't some way to break out of those looping woods and fog.