citylogs | ⇀ july [open] post

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⇀ 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-night ~~alcohol~~ 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.

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[ Definitely a teenager, from the way he's so hot and cold with her. Curious one moment and contrary the next. It makes her a little homesick, if anything, even though she's never had particularly good bedside manner with the students because she tends to be so matter-of-fact. Perhaps that softens her expression just a little, and earns him the ghost of a smile as she lets him take his time and hold his secrets. It doesn't mean she can't look him over at the same time, just in case there's anything to notice. ]

Back home, I work as a private school physician. [ Not a lie, but not the full truth of it either. She's already decided trying to explain the details to strangers isn't worth the effort. ] It's about all I can offer anyone around here, so I was thinking of trying to tidy this place up—after I stock up a little.

[ She won't ask again if he needs help. But the way she doesn't turn away from him likely conveys her suspicions loud and clear anyway. ]

[ There's nothing about Robby's person that shows injuries on himself. He watches her as she speaks, and if she's paying attention, there's the slightest shift at school physician; he continues to watch her, but with momentary flutters. Thinking, or trying to. It keeps him in place longer, deliberating even after she's done speaking, though he's not quiet for too long.

But, nevertheless; hesitantly: ] ...There's a guy who showed here roughed up. I think he got seen to where he came from, [ given the nose bandage he was wearing, ] but...

[ There's that hesitation again, a rocking on one of his feet and his gaze wandering that slows the request that he's both in the process of making, but also isn't sure if to. It's not for him, it's not anyone's business, but-- and yet--

He looks back at her, his brows lowering, creasing with concern. Words slow and careful. ] ...would you be able to tell if he's doing okay? I think he was having a bad time before he showed up here.

[ A long beat. ] I think he needs someone to talk to.

[ He's dropping hints, hopefully obvious ones, about what he means. He doesn't exactly know how to talk about someone's mental health; and when it's about someone he's not that familiar with (how do you decide familiarity in a place like this?), it feels wrong to bring up with a total stranger. It feels like a gamble, and maybe part of that is his own biases--that this random woman, even if she is a school physician, would scoff at the idea of checking out a guy's mental wellbeing.

Aren't they all going through some shit, after all? ]

[ The hesitant tenderness of the request strikes her in a well-hidden soft spot. One that's been there as long as she can remember, and likewise kept buried as deeply as possible. Quite simply, she's never had time or room to be soft. But that doesn't mean she can't be compassionate, particularly when faced with the sort of request that seems like the most difficult thing he's had to say in his life. He reminds her, just a little, of Megumi. But this is also no time to dwell. ]

I'm a physician, not a psychologist. [ Said gently. How could she not pick up on those hints? Every sorcerer could use a government-sanctioned therapist for what they have to go through.

Maybe that's the common thread everyone here shares?

In all honesty, she isn't so convinced she'll be able to help all that much. Her bedside manner has always left something to be desired, too factual, too efficient, too removed from the reality and severity of some of the things she's had to see to ever quite be warm enough. It might be why, whenever she isn't on-hand for the school, she spends her time in the morgue instead. But that's not exactly something to explain to strangers any more than jujutsu is. ]

But I can look him over, if you'll tell me his name and where to meet him. Or did he come with you?

[ There's no embarrassment or twitch to what might be a correction--Robby knows the difference, but the thing is, there's little room for being picky here. He chews some on the inside of his lip, a yes or no all that really matters with the request. The point could be a no--but it turns out not to be, and there's a slight shift in him.

Something easing, if only a little. ] He lives next door, I can tell him about you. We're not from the same place. But, uh--could I take your contact? I dunno how he'd act if you just showed up. I mean-- he's pretty out of it. Dazed. Not violent, just...

[ He tips his head than repeat what he's already said: he's out of it. He doesn't want to make Peter's condition sound more than it is, but he also doesn't know what else to describe it as. Is he better than when they first met? Is it the place itself getting to him? Still, Robby can't help but worry.

She isn't a psychologist, but he's not even a physician. There's got to be someone better to keep an eye on him. ]

[ There's an urge to praise him for the request that she stuffs down because she knows it would only sound patronizing, no matter how it was worded. She isn't exactly heartened by the description he gives anyway, sounding familiar to the extent that she almost (almost) regrets saying yes. So much for the selfishness of trying to turn this into a little holiday; it seems this place is exactly like the one she'd left behind after all. ]

I think I understand. [ Again said as thoughtfully as she can, as she offers her city-provided phone in exchange for his. Her Network contact is the same as her name: Shoko, last name Ieiri. Whichever he chooses to use for her is fine either way, since she doubts he'll find another of either around here. Though she has to wonder if his friend is from Tokyo too, or if the three of them have all been pulled from somewhere different. She's not sure which option unsettles her more. ]

I'm in the building just up the street from here. Is that where you're staying too?

[ Robby brings out his phone, gives his username--displayname--with an explanation if she gives him any look that's questioning for it ("I didn't care about the survey," the most honest reason). He'll give her his name too if she asks, 'Robby', without a last name, and he'll set her name down as she gives it. If she mentions Ieiri verbally, Robby will ask if she can spell it so he puts it down right.

He can be hot and cold, but he's not about to be an ass about someone's name, as little as it might matter in the grand scheme of things. ]

The one on the left. [ There's at least a couple of apartment buildings near one another. ] We're on the first floor, but I'll give you a room number when I talk to him.

[ He's putting his phone back now, and--it's unnecessary to admit to his now, but Robby nods in direction of where the dispensary counter is. ]

I was planning to talk to him about if he took anything, but I wanted to see if they stock that kind of medication here in the first place. ...Didn't actually know what I was looking for.

[ He can admit that quietly, a kind of helplessness to it. But that's all this is--a guy trying to help another one with a problem he has no idea how to address. ]

[ For her part, Shoko stifles any good-natured laughter at the on-the-nose username, simply accepting the information at face value and focusing instead on his actual name. She does spell her name as well, pronounces it slowly for his benefit if he asks, though if he drops the second i and forever calls her Dr Ieri—or Dr Shoko—it probably won't make much of a difference.

What matters more is the fine details of his request: where they live, timing, and (perhaps) any prescriptions. There's something she can't recall ever dealing with outside of her exams. And when she realizes it isn't even the medicine he's gesturing towards, she feels much more out of her depth. ]

Just across the street from me, then. I'll wait for an update on whether I should come to you or you'll come to me. [ Her gaze lingers a little over the bright green of that cross, an unfamiliar site in Japan. ] In the meantime, if he tells you anything about his prescription, you can just send me a photo, or spell it as best you can and we'll figure it out.

[ As she pockets her own phone, she adds: ] Are you sure you don't need anything for yourself?

[ There's some semblance of comfort--or is it security?--to have another person to talk about this to. Maybe she won't be able to do much for Peter, her lack of training in this field coming through, but he has to think anything--anyone other than some other teenager--has to be better than what he was working with.

He has his phone back in his pocket, a better sense of what to do about the other guy than when he came in; mindlessly looking for medicine he didn't know anything about, building up to a conversation he didn't want to particularly have. But he feels better prepared, and at the question of his own health, he only pauses for a beat before shaking his head. ]

Unless you know a way out of here.

[ All he was suffering was the same ailment as everyone else. ]

[ There's something—either in his tone, the heavy pause, or maybe just knitted into the air around them—that wounds her a little about his request. It's rhetorical, she knows, but it's a question she's already asked of other people, almost every day since she'd arrived here. No one knows, even if it's the only thing they all want to know. As someone who usually has the answers, it's a failing that's difficult for her to ignore and one she isn't quite ready to shoulder. ]

Not yet. [ Offered with a gentle smile, and hopefully not too much of that helplessness leaking into her voice. She likes to think she's gotten pretty good at masking it by now, considering how many times she's had to over the years. This isn't a moment for being realistic anyway. ]

I'll send you my address anyway, just so you know where to find me in case anything comes up. [ A pause, a derisive laugh, and with a bit of ruefulness, she adds: ] And if it's someone trying to make an experiment out of you, or your friend, I have some friends of my own I can send to help instead.

[ Not yet, she says, but at least it's not spoken like a promise. Not that it really matters, brief as it is, but there's a level of optimism Robby's heard about their situation that's always hard--or just, weird to--digest.

This, Robby can just take as a joke, does so as he listens to her continue, with a quick thought that makes him look at the different aisles. He might pick up some painkillers, just in case. Or check out their plasters.

But Robby is looking at her with the offered help, a slight pull of his brows. ]

What kind of school doctor has muscle? They from wherever you're from?

[ It's jest, really--Robby doesn't expect she has the kind of muscle he's implying--but it is at least a small amount of amusement to find. ]

[ She smiles, warm but a little secretive too. Calling them muscle isn't exactly incorrect, and they certainly are physically strong (stronger than her, by a long shot, but then that isn't what she's best for). But she decides not to dig into the specifics of things just yet, half wanting to not overwhelm him and also simply because it doesn't matter too much right now. He's taking it as a joke, and she's content to lean into that a bit. ]

It's probably closer to a bootcamp than a high school.

[ Another half-truth. The students do learn a lot—and also lose a lot, including their classmates sometimes. ]

But we're all from Tokyo, Japan. [ It's the from when that she holds onto for herself. Another thing she's not about to get into with Robby—or yet with her friends, for that matter. ] I think you might've liked some of the students there. Maybe they'll show up again.

Again? [ Key word, isn't it? And while Robby hadn't wanted to move around while they were speaking, he decides to come into her aisle, just to examine what else there is. He wants painkillers, and he's taking that word as being maybe a mistake, meaning something else--or have people left this place? When not even death will get you out of here.

He turns himself in a way that shows he's still paying attention to her, but he's checking out the packets of medicine, seeing what he's around--and if he's even close to the right aisle for simple paracetamol or ibuprofen. ]

[ She shrugs; really she hadn't meant much by it, hardly understanding the circumstances and perhaps not even quite believing Gojo when he'd said it. ] A friend mentioned seeing one of his students awhile ago, but hasn't seen him again in sometime. He may just be hiding out somewhere. [ A small laugh. ] Their relationship has always been a little hot and cold.

[ As ever, she's mindful of her surroundings, a habit born of necessity more than actual self-preservation. As Robby flips through packets and boxes, clearly still looking for something, she bites her tongue for a moment. The last thing she ever wants is to come off as a lecturer. ]

First aid staples are on the other side of this shelf. Bandages, gauze, antiseptic, pain relief. I left about half of it, but I probably have what you might need in one of these bags, if you're in a rush to get back to your friend. [ She gestures, bags hanging from her arms rustling, to the couple on the floor as well, piled with everything from sleep aids to hemorrhoid cream. ]

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⇀ july [open] post

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