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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. )
tram station blues...... or greens and reds ig they're xmas colors
[Because, evidently, there's no way for them to immediately replicate whatever brought them here -- some kind of teleportation technique or other space-time interference is the most likely answer given everything they and Soul Society have been up to so far. There's a lot furiously resolving itself behind Ulquiorra's eyes but his stare remains flat.
He was already wandering the station, not in particular hopes of anything but just digging into what the city has to offer. Tourism is a foreign concept to him, but reconnaissance is not. He's currently knocking idly on the side of the tram. It's strange for it to feel so solid under his knuckles.]
Walking is also out of the question...
[Is that to the flamboyant interloper or himself? Fushigi mystery.]
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[ Like, if everyone could just teleport to other cities, why wouldn't they teleport from home to the marketplace?
Also, who is he saying that to? Is that an implication that he looks lazy or something?? He just walked from Aladhi Seahaven to Nia Khera recently! Because Rieze Maxia is a shitty backwater country with no trains! ]
And the plausibility of walking would depend on where the next city was located, obviously.
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[He has his doubts, particularly given his presence here and its nature and also a whole host of other small but persistent annoyances. But none of that is relevant to the man who wandered in, and Ulquiorra himself is busy stepping into the interior of the tram -- empty, of course, and doesn't seem about to yield answers. He has no real use for transportation, himself.
Nevertheless, he's forced to investigate with five senses. Terrible.]
Distance doesn't matter. Other cities don't matter. The fog, however...
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You know that's pretty much the exact opposite of how urban planning actually works.
[ But yeah, sure, go stand in the tram. ]
Or are you just talking about what matters for travel for you personally, and we're not even having the same conversation?
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Urban planning and the travels of others are none of my concern.
[So really he's just a loner having a conversation at you. That's how this works, right? Right. The tram yields nothing except: dust, rust, and paperwork. If there are vermin in this city, they're not easy to turn up -- though the emptiness doesn't deter him. It is, in fact, still a little crowded here for his liking.]
This is, itself, not a normal city.
[He has like, suspicions about the thing?? But it's too early to really say.]
no subject
[ God. Rideaux is usually pretty disinterested in what everyone else has to say himself, but having someone be so blatantly disinterested in him that they can't even keep up a coherent conversation is kind of infuriating. ]
You might want to fix your eyeliner, by the way.
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This could be the living world, though unlike any of his other possible visits -- lately, there's been a lot of unprecedented things in Las Noches. Ergo, he'll tolerate the living. For now. And, well, it looks like this.]
And if your perception of the world is so shallow, I'm not surprised you were baffled by a set of rails.
no subject