![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png){kind=small}
[ OPEN ] want to be free
WHO: Kim Kitsuragi (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
aceslow) & YOU
WHAT: Various July activities -- both for the event (happy to receive items/memories too!) and for every day activities.
WHERE: Throughout the City; bank, shopping centres, parks, etc.
WHEN: Through til the end of July.
WARNINGS: Probable discussions regarding racism, loss, and the diaspora.
[ EVENT ] a. in the vault.
[ The deserted bank is an eerie place as it is. On a Lieutenant's salary, Kim barely has enough money to put in the bank as it is, let alone frequent one as extravagantly wealthy as this one; the minute he steps foot in it with his grubby boots and worn - though well-maintained - jacket, he feels immediately out of place, a sense of unease dogging his steps. His footsteps are loud in the echo chamber that is the grand hall. Eventually, he makes his way back to where the keys are, name after name etched on the side of the keychain. It's a trap if he's ever seen one. He hesitates, hand hovering just over the keys, brow furrowed. ]
This is almost certainly a trap.
[ Then, decisively, he yanks it off the wall, then glances behind him towards whoever his companion may be. ]
But it's the best lead we've got. You coming?
[ OOC NOTE: The item I've chosen concerns racism & the diaspora, please only respond to this prompt if those are subjects you're comfortable with! ]
[ EVENT ] b. out and about.
[ After the whole messy incident with the vault, Kim's taken to keeping the toy plane with him, burning a hole in his pocket. In all honesty, it's not something that brings him any solace, any comfort; if anything he feels desperately uncomfortable about it. But after everything, it feels almost sacriligious to leave it in the apartment he's hunkered down in, unguarded, unprotected, the sole personal possession next to the rest of the nondescript apartment. It feels equally as wrong to leave it in the bank where he had found it, as though abandoning it again means --
God, he doesn't know. He's not one for analyzing his own thoughts and feelings. Straight ahead, down his narrow, narrow path. That's how he's always been, how he'll always be. So he puts it firmly out of mind for the time being as he goes along his daily business, pacing about the city, investigating every nook and cranny with a fine tooth comb, and largely trying to keep himself busy, whether that's in the park, in a store, or even roaming once more through City Hall. Whatever public place you can think of, he's there. ]
[ OOC NOTE: We can wrap the event into any of the other prompts as well, but this one is intended for sharing of objects/memories! Please feel free to have your character share theirs first (or have only them share it, without that reciprocation) if you like; I never mind a backstory dump. :) ]
c. daily life (shopping / exercising / a midnight smoke).
[ With little else at his disposal other than the grim dawning realization that if he truly has to start making a functional life for himself here, Kim can be seen during daily life in the City taking what he needs.
Perhaps you find him in the supermarket or convenience store, the handle of his shopping basket nestled in the crook of his shoulder as he stares at the shelves with a light frown on his face, combing the shelves for this and that: salt, cabbage, meat and onions rank chiefly among his purchases, but it looks like he's working his way towards a very bland meal -- that, and he seems to be pretty concerned about getting really badly injured, if the amount of painkillers, bandages, and other first-aid goods are of any indication.
Or perhaps you find him in the park, jogging around its perimeter again, and again, and again, and again... he'll periodically stop, huffing and puffing more than he'd care to fess up to. There's nothing better to do around here, after all, and he feels a certain compulsion to remain in shape (though all embarassing stretches take place in the privacy of his own bedroom; an old man he may be to some here, but he's not old enough to start congregating in the park with the other seniors) to face whatever dangers he's convinced have yet to come. If you catch his eye, he'll nod in greeting with a small smile, wiping the sweat off his brow, suddenly self-conscious. ] Afternoon. Pity there's no gym in this place.
[ Or maybe you're another night owl, coming across Kim leaning against a wall, silhouetted by the street lamps above, staring contemplatively off into the distance as he lights a cigarette. Before he takes a single drag, he takes a deep breath, as though even contemplating his cigarette brings some measure of serenity to his soul. He takes that first drag like an addict does; savouring it, hoping it never comes to an end. But as he blows out a large plume of smoke, he'll look your way, nodding in greeting. If you're clearly of age and look interested, he'll extend the cigarette carton in your direction, asking, ] Want one?
d. weapon creation.
[ It's been long enough that Kim has gathered the fact that all of their weapons have been forcibly taken from them, right down to the blade attachment in his poor multi-tool. With just one glimpse of Kim, it's easy to see that he's not a man who's used to getting into physical altercations all-too often, preferring to rely on the security of his firearm, but it's not as though he can make a gun.
Besides, this isn't purely for self defense. Rather, it's an experiment: if weapons are so highly prohibited, then is the creation of them also prohibited? Will he wake cuffed like that fellow on the network behind him? It's a small punishment, as punishments go, so Kim decides to risk it, heading to park as the sun begins to wane, long shadows cast over the entire area. After gathering some of the natural resources around the park, as well as a few helpful items lifted from shops here and there, he sits cross-legged on the grass and gets to work, beginning by taking some kitchen utensils and industriously hacking away at a particularly sturdy branch to attempt to make a fine point.
From his grumbling, it's not going particularly well. He could really use a hand. ]
Ugh. I could really use my damn knife right about now.
e. wildcard!
[ Wildcard! Feel free to make up your own prompt - Kim can be found out and about the City at large - and I'm happy to roll with it! Feel free to brainstorm with me on my plotting post or hit me up on plurk! I'd be happy to write custom starters as well. ]
aceslow) & YOUWHAT: Various July activities -- both for the event (happy to receive items/memories too!) and for every day activities.
WHERE: Throughout the City; bank, shopping centres, parks, etc.
WHEN: Through til the end of July.
WARNINGS: Probable discussions regarding racism, loss, and the diaspora.
[ EVENT ] a. in the vault.
[ The deserted bank is an eerie place as it is. On a Lieutenant's salary, Kim barely has enough money to put in the bank as it is, let alone frequent one as extravagantly wealthy as this one; the minute he steps foot in it with his grubby boots and worn - though well-maintained - jacket, he feels immediately out of place, a sense of unease dogging his steps. His footsteps are loud in the echo chamber that is the grand hall. Eventually, he makes his way back to where the keys are, name after name etched on the side of the keychain. It's a trap if he's ever seen one. He hesitates, hand hovering just over the keys, brow furrowed. ]
This is almost certainly a trap.
[ Then, decisively, he yanks it off the wall, then glances behind him towards whoever his companion may be. ]
But it's the best lead we've got. You coming?
[ OOC NOTE: The item I've chosen concerns racism & the diaspora, please only respond to this prompt if those are subjects you're comfortable with! ]
[ EVENT ] b. out and about.
[ After the whole messy incident with the vault, Kim's taken to keeping the toy plane with him, burning a hole in his pocket. In all honesty, it's not something that brings him any solace, any comfort; if anything he feels desperately uncomfortable about it. But after everything, it feels almost sacriligious to leave it in the apartment he's hunkered down in, unguarded, unprotected, the sole personal possession next to the rest of the nondescript apartment. It feels equally as wrong to leave it in the bank where he had found it, as though abandoning it again means --
God, he doesn't know. He's not one for analyzing his own thoughts and feelings. Straight ahead, down his narrow, narrow path. That's how he's always been, how he'll always be. So he puts it firmly out of mind for the time being as he goes along his daily business, pacing about the city, investigating every nook and cranny with a fine tooth comb, and largely trying to keep himself busy, whether that's in the park, in a store, or even roaming once more through City Hall. Whatever public place you can think of, he's there. ]
[ OOC NOTE: We can wrap the event into any of the other prompts as well, but this one is intended for sharing of objects/memories! Please feel free to have your character share theirs first (or have only them share it, without that reciprocation) if you like; I never mind a backstory dump. :) ]
c. daily life (shopping / exercising / a midnight smoke).
[ With little else at his disposal other than the grim dawning realization that if he truly has to start making a functional life for himself here, Kim can be seen during daily life in the City taking what he needs.
Perhaps you find him in the supermarket or convenience store, the handle of his shopping basket nestled in the crook of his shoulder as he stares at the shelves with a light frown on his face, combing the shelves for this and that: salt, cabbage, meat and onions rank chiefly among his purchases, but it looks like he's working his way towards a very bland meal -- that, and he seems to be pretty concerned about getting really badly injured, if the amount of painkillers, bandages, and other first-aid goods are of any indication.
Or perhaps you find him in the park, jogging around its perimeter again, and again, and again, and again... he'll periodically stop, huffing and puffing more than he'd care to fess up to. There's nothing better to do around here, after all, and he feels a certain compulsion to remain in shape (though all embarassing stretches take place in the privacy of his own bedroom; an old man he may be to some here, but he's not old enough to start congregating in the park with the other seniors) to face whatever dangers he's convinced have yet to come. If you catch his eye, he'll nod in greeting with a small smile, wiping the sweat off his brow, suddenly self-conscious. ] Afternoon. Pity there's no gym in this place.
[ Or maybe you're another night owl, coming across Kim leaning against a wall, silhouetted by the street lamps above, staring contemplatively off into the distance as he lights a cigarette. Before he takes a single drag, he takes a deep breath, as though even contemplating his cigarette brings some measure of serenity to his soul. He takes that first drag like an addict does; savouring it, hoping it never comes to an end. But as he blows out a large plume of smoke, he'll look your way, nodding in greeting. If you're clearly of age and look interested, he'll extend the cigarette carton in your direction, asking, ] Want one?
d. weapon creation.
[ It's been long enough that Kim has gathered the fact that all of their weapons have been forcibly taken from them, right down to the blade attachment in his poor multi-tool. With just one glimpse of Kim, it's easy to see that he's not a man who's used to getting into physical altercations all-too often, preferring to rely on the security of his firearm, but it's not as though he can make a gun.
Besides, this isn't purely for self defense. Rather, it's an experiment: if weapons are so highly prohibited, then is the creation of them also prohibited? Will he wake cuffed like that fellow on the network behind him? It's a small punishment, as punishments go, so Kim decides to risk it, heading to park as the sun begins to wane, long shadows cast over the entire area. After gathering some of the natural resources around the park, as well as a few helpful items lifted from shops here and there, he sits cross-legged on the grass and gets to work, beginning by taking some kitchen utensils and industriously hacking away at a particularly sturdy branch to attempt to make a fine point.
From his grumbling, it's not going particularly well. He could really use a hand. ]
Ugh. I could really use my damn knife right about now.
e. wildcard!
[ Wildcard! Feel free to make up your own prompt - Kim can be found out and about the City at large - and I'm happy to roll with it! Feel free to brainstorm with me on my plotting post or hit me up on plurk! I'd be happy to write custom starters as well. ]
no subject
There's no such thing as common sense, he says, and this is also familiar to home. Assuming everyone was going to follow the same kind of logic or even common decency was just asking to end up on the serving plate at the diner down the street or robbed on your way home or some other problem. No one had dreams in the City and usually the only desire was just to put yourself first.
She shouldn't find this strange and she doesn't, but she does still find it aggravating. ]
At this point, I think it's more likely that they're going to stick with that plan of action. Which I'd rather kick down, honestly. Trust me, once I figure out where they're hiding, they're gonna wish they'd showed their faces a hell of a lot sooner.
no subject
[ With a smooth gesture that gives away the sheer habitual nature of the act, he butts his cigarette out on the heel of his boot and tosses it off to the side, exhaling one last, treasured, plume of smoke. ]
If we do find them, then it's time for answers. [ He purses his lips. ] Honestly, I don't know about subduing them without any weapons at our disposal. Unless you happen to be a master at hand-to-hand?
no subject
[ She misses her sword!! ]
Then again, I guess it's a matter of just making use of what we have on hand, like the baseball bats in the sports equipment place.
no subject
[ Not that he can make a gun for himself. God, what he wouldn't give. ]
What did you do back home, to have that sort of training?
no subject
[ Listen, it's still an improvement over seeing if you can just use a kitchen knife swiftly enough. ]
But I used to be a Fixer--think something like a mercenary, though in my case, it was taking on all kinds of jobs and protecting people when they needed it. You end up seeing a lot of combat and if you don't die from it, you learn from it.
no subject
[ That can do some hefty damage on its own, he knows. But it's not the sort of thing you use if you don't want the other guy dead. There's gotta be some in-between, somewhere.
His eyes brighten with recognition at her words after that, though. ]
You're the second Fixer I've met. There seems to be quite a few people from your world around here, isn't there? Unusually so. [ The implications of that... well, Kim doesn't know, save for the fact that the people here seem to be from tumultuous backgrounds, and people from their world seem to be very tumultuous indeed. ] The other fellow was more of a security guard than a personal guard, though. I suppose that must be one of the perks of mercenary work -- I imagine you more or less get to choose your own assignments. Unless you all work underneath a greater organization, of course.
no subject
[ ... But she doesn't look too surprised to hear this, nodding. Yeah. A few, which will increase a strange amount in the future, but Present Gebura doesn't know that yet. ]
Most Fixers will work for an Office and only handle requests formally processed and approved through that particular office. The lower the Grade, the more independence you're afforded, and Color Fixers don't tend to associate with an Office and take only the requests they want to. It's all about rank and title, in the City--some parts of it more than others, but pretty much present everywhere.
no subject
[ And that terrifying train that Kim is convinced is killing people. ]
I'm well used to bureaucracy. [ He hooks his thumb into his pocket, gazing contemplatively out at the street before them. ] Rank and title being meaningful is universal, after all. But the place you're from sounds particularly stratified to me. It must be odd to come to a place like this. None of that exists here.