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WELCOME
Good morning.
Or perhaps it might be more appropriate to say good evening instead, considering how it is moonlight that will rouse you into consciousness. And what a bright moon it is, half-full and clear without contest in the sky as it outshines the stars and galaxies in the backdrop. But it’s all the better to emphasize that the buildings that speckle the landscape before you are all completely devoid of any light. And by the way—do you always sleep outside?
The lack of light can be something to deal with later though, at least when you've properly gotten up from the cold, unyielding stone below you. And that chill down your spine—no doubt that probably has something to do with combination of cool temperatures and poor sleeping conditions, but it’s odd how it seems to linger.
Checking your person for any items that should be in your possession yields disappointing results, but it seems you're not empty handed (or pocketed) because you are now the proud owner of one (1) small bundle of black cloth. Unwrapping it reveals a key imprinted with a roman numeral, along with a simple note.
“Come at 6PM to the place circled on this map:”
“Don’t be tardy, dear Survivors, that’d be a bad first impression. If you don’t want your stay here to be more unpleasant than it’ll already be, you’ll want to avoid seeming careless or disrespectful. You’ll want to listen to my opening speech~!”
Finally, after an empty space that may be simulating an intense pause, there’s one last line:
“I know what you’re thinking, so I’ll say it straight: if you don’t come, you’re as good as dead.”
The news likely isn't welcome, but it's a start. And it seems you're not alone in your plight, though whether company is within arm's length or a stone’s throw away is up to fortune’s whims. For now, you're free to explore the town square and the surrounding areas as best you can in the dim light.
For some reason or another, Krakow, Poland is now your new home. That much is clear from the sign posts that you can inexplicably read, as red and white flag posts with "Święto Niepodległości" flutter lightly in the wind. While the storefronts are dark, the street lamps that scatter the town provide some measure of light, providing some solace against the layer of fog that's begun to creep in.
( OOC: Welcome to Antumbra! This intro log occurs ICly Sunday. Your MM's will be around at 6pm EST to hear your complaints. )
church ahoy
The church is somewhere he stops in a little longer, ignoring the other individual in the space as he approaches the altar and stares expressionlessly at it for a while. A shake of his head, and then he leaves it, moving himself further into the pews and the recesses of the building.]
Nothing, I see. What a poor excuse for a church.
[At least he seems familiar with the style of building...? He seems to be talking to the church itself, or perhaps chastising it.]
no subject
Are you familiar with this religion, then?
[It’s probably not really relevant to anything, but hey, he’s curious.]
Is there something missing that you’d usually expect to see here?
no subject
[That's not a denial that he's familiar with it -- churches aren't exactly unknown territory despite his limited time away from Hueco Mundo until like. Just now.
He lifts a hand to indicate the altar, then moves it in a brief, careless sweep throughout.]
Souls. This is normally a gathering place.
[Or like, a Hollow cafeteria but he has a reputation to keep.]
no subject
[...man, now that he's getting an actual look at this guy, he's feeling a bit uneasy. He saw one overly pale weirdo with face paint/tattoos/what have you earlier, and now there's two? mother in heaven. granted, he's pretty sure none of these people have any connection to Kronya and Solon, but it's still giving him a case of the jibblies nonetheless.]
Regardless, though, you are right. Churches tend to act as a sanctuary, so I half expected to find residents here, but there is still no one to be found.
[...he's assuming living souls still, not dead ones. oops.]
no subject
[Of course, the things he's spouting are probably making him seem a lot warmer and fuzzier and all that -- Ulquiorra doesn't hold himself nor move quite like a person. He has certain of the mannerisms of a biped down, of course, but he makes too few motions, blinks a little too slowly, and of course there's all the markings and accessories blaring out that he's. Something else.
If he senses Seteth's unease, he doesn't acknowledge it.]
A church like this can be a sanctuary for all sorts of things. They've been burial grounds for a long time, especially in cities like this.
no subject
Death is inevitable, certainly, but there's a fair amount of actual living to do before then. There is nothing wrong with helping people with their troubles, whether they are important or trivial.
[...man, what are you, dude. what even.
...wait.]
...wait, are you another ghost of some sort...
no subject
Death is much longer and even more tedious than life. There's no such thing as important or trivial when the scurryings of the living are so insignificant.
[Sometimes it takes a really long time to die after you're dead.]
[...]
I see you've met that creature.