shouko ⇌ 硝子 (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
quitsmoking) wrote in ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png)
citylogs2023-07-19 02:32 pm
quitsmoking) wrote in citylogs2023-07-19 02:32 pm
⇀ july [open] post
WHO: shoko (quitsmoking) & y'all
WHAT: general city exploration and an offering of medical care
WHERE: a grocery store, a pharmacy, and perhaps other businesses nearby
WHEN: early to mid-july
WARNINGS: none for now, but spoilers will be marked
FEASTING
[ The strangeness of it all has yet to settle, and Shoko's not entirely convinced she'll ever shake it. Even as she encounters more and more strangers, most of whom seem to be in as much of a hurry as she is, this place continues to feel off in ways she can't articulate. Even while she does the most mundane of things, like her current trip down aisle three of a humble grocery store, the sprawling emptiness of her surroundings is unsettling. It isn't homesickness, she's sure of that, as she sets a few packets of instant ramen into her cart. This city doesn't remind her anything of Tokyo, or even of the serenity of the forests and hills surrounding the school. No, the city exudes a sort of lifelessness that rivals a morgue—but even a cadaver has a presence, and if one wants to they can imagine what sort of life that person might have led. Here, beyond the strangers, there aren't even corpses. Unless you're counting the empty shells of the buildings.
But even those don't feel quite right, and it's something she picked up on the moment she set foot into one of the apartments. As she had gone down the corridor, peeking into every door along the way, each of them gave off a sense of abandonment rather than welcome. As if the occupants had been spirited away rather than left. She can't help but wonder if the same fate is destined for everyone here now—and privately hopes they'll just be sent back to where they came from.
But she's also no fool, and also suspicious of the size and prominence of that cemetery.
Rounding the endcap, she tips one of the bags of chips into her cart on the way past, trying not to consider too much what they'll all do once the food runs out. For now, she's just pleasantly surprised that the meat and seafood seems well-stocked, although perhaps a little frustrated that there doesn't seem to be a butcher in sight. She hovers, instead, by the seemingly moot number dispenser, wondering whether she should even bother, or if this is like the conbini and the bowling alley and she should just invite herself behind the counter to pull out a pair of those pre-steamed crab legs sets. ]
Maybe it would just be easier to do fish or chicken...
FIRST AID
[ Stocking the fridge and tidying the rooms was easy. The apartments themselves don't seem particularly dirty, and what dust had settled wipes up easily and without anything curious or unpleasant beneath it. So, in the end, it hadn't really mattered which of the dozen she investigated ended up being the one she settled into, except that she wanted to ensure it was big enough for company. Not for parties (never for parties) but for the occasional visitor with an issue. She knows that, eventually, it would behoove her to put the word out that there is someone around with some knowledge of first aid (among other things) available for scrapes, cuts, bruises, or worse. But she's wary of the shared network and the things she's already been seeing posted on it, and isn't exactly keen to invite a lot of that into her personal space.
Ideally, then, none of it would happen in her own home, but that's going to be easier said than done. In addition to wandering her way towards the nearest grocer, she'd taken stock of the general surroundings of the apartment building. There is, thankfully, a nearby conbini for all her late-nightalcohol cravings, along with what looks like the remains of a thrift store or consignment shop. But her sights, for now at least, are set on the unkempt pharmacy at the end of the block. The shelves are disorganized, but the stock seems well within expiry, and it would just need a bit of elbow grease to clean up the general ick of it. That would, however, also be an awful lot of work for one person who is admittedly more interested in administering care than self-care (or shop-care). So it's a dream that she sets aside for now, while also pilfering its messy shelves for first aid essentials—and some slightly above average quantities of things like antibiotics and pain killers.
It's a little uncouth but for now she stores it all in a dedicated kitchen cabinet—the gauze, the antiseptic, the surgeon's thread, and the medication alike. Neatly labeled and shelved, but altogether out of place in someone's home. She's lost in her thoughts of how to get the word out as she makes one final lap around the place. Around one wrist is a shopping bag heavy with plastic prescription pill containers, large boxes of assorted bandages, and various sizes and shapes of braces. At her feet is something she doesn't yet dare carry: a shrink-wrapped case of isopropyl alcohol, with a dozen, 20-oz. bottles all neatly packaged together. ]
OOC
i'm likely to add at least one other prompt after the event goes up i will not be adding additional prompts this month, but am still otherwise very open to random adventures around the city! if you want to do something but would like to brainstorm first, feel free to send me a PM.
quitsmoking) & y'allWHAT: general city exploration and an offering of medical care
WHERE: a grocery store, a pharmacy, and perhaps other businesses nearby
WHEN: early to mid-july
WARNINGS: none for now, but spoilers will be marked
FEASTING
[ The strangeness of it all has yet to settle, and Shoko's not entirely convinced she'll ever shake it. Even as she encounters more and more strangers, most of whom seem to be in as much of a hurry as she is, this place continues to feel off in ways she can't articulate. Even while she does the most mundane of things, like her current trip down aisle three of a humble grocery store, the sprawling emptiness of her surroundings is unsettling. It isn't homesickness, she's sure of that, as she sets a few packets of instant ramen into her cart. This city doesn't remind her anything of Tokyo, or even of the serenity of the forests and hills surrounding the school. No, the city exudes a sort of lifelessness that rivals a morgue—but even a cadaver has a presence, and if one wants to they can imagine what sort of life that person might have led. Here, beyond the strangers, there aren't even corpses. Unless you're counting the empty shells of the buildings.
But even those don't feel quite right, and it's something she picked up on the moment she set foot into one of the apartments. As she had gone down the corridor, peeking into every door along the way, each of them gave off a sense of abandonment rather than welcome. As if the occupants had been spirited away rather than left. She can't help but wonder if the same fate is destined for everyone here now—and privately hopes they'll just be sent back to where they came from.
But she's also no fool, and also suspicious of the size and prominence of that cemetery.
Rounding the endcap, she tips one of the bags of chips into her cart on the way past, trying not to consider too much what they'll all do once the food runs out. For now, she's just pleasantly surprised that the meat and seafood seems well-stocked, although perhaps a little frustrated that there doesn't seem to be a butcher in sight. She hovers, instead, by the seemingly moot number dispenser, wondering whether she should even bother, or if this is like the conbini and the bowling alley and she should just invite herself behind the counter to pull out a pair of those pre-steamed crab legs sets. ]
Maybe it would just be easier to do fish or chicken...
FIRST AID
[ Stocking the fridge and tidying the rooms was easy. The apartments themselves don't seem particularly dirty, and what dust had settled wipes up easily and without anything curious or unpleasant beneath it. So, in the end, it hadn't really mattered which of the dozen she investigated ended up being the one she settled into, except that she wanted to ensure it was big enough for company. Not for parties (never for parties) but for the occasional visitor with an issue. She knows that, eventually, it would behoove her to put the word out that there is someone around with some knowledge of first aid (among other things) available for scrapes, cuts, bruises, or worse. But she's wary of the shared network and the things she's already been seeing posted on it, and isn't exactly keen to invite a lot of that into her personal space.
Ideally, then, none of it would happen in her own home, but that's going to be easier said than done. In addition to wandering her way towards the nearest grocer, she'd taken stock of the general surroundings of the apartment building. There is, thankfully, a nearby conbini for all her late-night
It's a little uncouth but for now she stores it all in a dedicated kitchen cabinet—the gauze, the antiseptic, the surgeon's thread, and the medication alike. Neatly labeled and shelved, but altogether out of place in someone's home. She's lost in her thoughts of how to get the word out as she makes one final lap around the place. Around one wrist is a shopping bag heavy with plastic prescription pill containers, large boxes of assorted bandages, and various sizes and shapes of braces. At her feet is something she doesn't yet dare carry: a shrink-wrapped case of isopropyl alcohol, with a dozen, 20-oz. bottles all neatly packaged together. ]
OOC
no subject
Sounds like I was right to avoid looking at the Network, then. The last thing I need is more idiots on my plate.
[ She doubts her friends are involved—but she'll probably ask anyway. More than that, what she really doesn't need is to feel any sort of responsibility for dead bodies right now. Even if this place is nothing but eeriness around every corner, she's grateful for the break from her usual duties. Even though she knows she'll be right back to guilty in no time. ]
It's at least good to know not everyone around here is like that.
[ A compliment, however light, may seem strange in response to how cold her companion has been. But she's grateful for the information regardless, and has a strong inclination that alienating people probably isn't in her best interest right now. Especially someone who could definitely take her in a fight if it came down to it. ]
no subject
[ This statement is less the Guardian in her and more the trained killer. You could make use of idiots. They overhear things they're not supposed to and if you push them the right way they'll squirm and rat out their secrets. It's a tactic she knew long and well, even if it's not one she's put into practice in years. ]
[ Even if it's one that she knows will hold no water here, in a place where the network is filled with the same questions. If someone knows something, they've not given it readily. And from the commentary, it's just as likely no one's found anything yet - How, with so many of them? Someone has to know something, she thinks, firmly. ]
[ The comment is one that catches her by surprise, head turning sharply in the other woman's direction with a quizzical tilt. It's the only thing that gives as much a way, given her eyes are emotionless black orbs and her mouth is drawn into a line. ]
[ Or it was, because there's half a curve of amusement at the thought: ]
No, but you'd be surprised.
[ She's not an idiot, but she willingly surrounds herself with them. And calls them family. So, well, maybe she is an idiot, but to a different degree. ] Competency is difficult to find.
[ This question is almost questioning - like she's trying to figure out if the woman before her is one that fits that particular note. ]
no subject
Some things never change, I suppose. [ Said in response to the mild lament for competency. And there is another beat, as she contemplates the crab legs and the salmon and cod fillets. Shoko is neither social nor asocial, as comfortable with conversation as she is with silence. But even with a handful of familiar faces here, there is still the pull to continue meeting others. ]
I'd be grateful for a break from them, from time to time. Do you drink? [ A pause, then an addendum, before she gets an answer: ] My name is Shoko.
no subject
[ She agrees quietly in that same husky undertone. Not that it's a bad thing, she thinks. All of the time. Drax was an idiot, but sometimes even she had to admire his fearlessness. She wouldn't say the world needs more of them, she continues, even as decidedly picks up some of the already-cut ribs on the other side of the window. Either she'll do something with them or Quill will later — ]
[ The continued question earns a slight pause. Surprise maybe, as she glances back up. ] ... Sometimes. If the company is right.
[ That much is said more softly. Not shyly, but the tone of someone who doesn't usually have the right company. Or the right time. They've had too much work to do repairing Knowhere and before that it was helping after the Blip and before that it was toiling under Thanos. Time to just go out with anyone - a friend or otherwise, was low. It's why it doesn't take long to finish, but to her it feels like it does. Unpracticed as it is: ]
Nebula. It's nice to meet you.
no subject
You as well. [ Offered with a soft, true smile and a polite, shallow bow. ] I can't promise to meet any particular criteria, but I'm happy to provide a patient ear.
[ A pause, a swallowed laugh at her own joke, and hands that twist at the handle of her cart as if they know it's time to part here yet they are reluctant to. ] And any first aid, should your idiots get themselves into more trouble than they can handle.
[ She certainly knows that her own will, sooner rather than later. They always have. ]