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
And she's not sure whether that subtle compliment—being lumped in with good people—eases the guilt or makes it worse. It's not that she isn't "good" and more that she can't remember the last time she's heard that about herself. Her job is by no means thankless, at least not the one she's demonstrated to Daniel today, but she's been so indispensable for so many years that it's been awhile since anyone has actually thanked her for it. And she suspects, not for the first time, that this is how all of her colleagues must feel: cleaning up for the unaware, so that they don't even know they're being helped. ]
I have a couple of bodyguards, so you don't need to worry about me. [ A soft, secretive smile and a pat on his shoulder. Her other hand reaches for her phone, to pull up her contacts. ] Will you do me a favor, at least, and let me know how you progress? I can send you the address of where I'm staying, too, in case...you want to try again.
[ A beat, as her gaze not-so-surreptitiously drops to the floor, and the case of alcohol at her feet. ]
Unless you'd like to do me a favor and walk me home?
no subject
That is-- he'll definitely worry about her all the same, even if he doesn't have to. He can't help it.
The question about letting her know about his progress gains an easy nod though. It feels like the least he can do in return for her at least lessening the pain for him, which already feels like a big step forward, even if it can't erase the shadow still looming over his heart.
Though when she immediately gives him a greater opportunity to do her a bigger favour, that actually makes him write on his phone again, apparently finding it important to answer with more than just a nod. ]
Of course. I will gladly help you. If there is anything else I can do for you too, just let me know.
[ .. maybe he's offering a touch too much there, but he can't help it. Especially when Daniel knows that if he isn't going to be helping others here, he's just going to remain a depressed traumatized puddle of a person in his bed, and that sure isn't going to do him any good either.
He might as well focus on something better here - which means, in this case, slowly bending down to pick up the case of alcohol, carrying it in his arms after sliding his phone back into his pocket. ]
no subject
I'll try not to burden you with too much. [ Said as she hefts the bags at her elbows, not particularly heavy but certainly cumbersome for their bulky contents. No part of her is about to ask for more than help with the case, especially of a recovering patient who's courteous enough to help with it in the first place. Instead, she merely gestures toward the door before leading the way, away from the vague scent of antiseptic and out into the eerie stillness of the city streets once more. ]
Although...how are you with putting things together? All of this is for keeping a bit of a stockpile in my spare bedroom, and I could use a little help assembling some shelves.
no subject
And it's not like he can use his phone while he's busy carrying something for her, so-- non-verbal communication it is. Non-verbal communication without gesturing, even. That's practically criminal by the standards of Daniel's Italian roots.
So when she asks him that question, he tilts his head to the side back and forth a few times, as if to imply so-so. He can do it, basically, but it's not like it's his job, so he won't claim to be an expert at it. But it's followed up by a shrug, and then a faint - though tired - smile as he looks sidelong at her while they walk.
The 'I'd be glad to help you if you'll have me' sort of sentiment, really. Daniel does guess it's not like Shoko can actually hire a professional, so she might as well make do with an amateur DIY-er. He did restore an entire old house by himself before, so.. a few shelves shouldn't be too much trouble, he figures. ]