aterat | 001

Entry tags:

001

Who; Cole Cash and YOU
What; Introduction & Catch-All
Where; All around town
When; Last week of April & All of May
Warnings; Will update as necessary

i. arrival (fountains » market district tavern)

One should never discredit a shiny sack a midget shoves into your hand before running off into a crowd and Cole wasn't one to disregard the usefulness of anything handed to you for free, but he'd think about that later after he found the guy and made him start talking. There were a lot of people milling around, though, and as he cut through the crowd he lost track of Raimon quickly.

"Fuck," he cursed under his breath to no one in particular, running a hand over his unruly blond hair, the few days of stubble peppering his chin. He was a tall man, broad of shoulder and sporting two pistols in shoulder holders at his sides. Fingerless gloves and rolled up sleeves coupled with dark cargo pants and combat boots finished the picture of a man who was accustomed to combat, and accustomed to a place far more advanced than this one. His brows lowered on the street outside the Market District Tavern as he took in his surroundings. Locals moved around him on the street as he looked around, taking in the market stalls, the cobbled streets, the...actual tavern? The giant birds hauling actual carriages?

He reached into the pocket of his shirt, producing a slightly crumbled but serviceable pack of cigarettes and sliding one between his lips, not really minding he was in the middle of everything seeing as people were just giving him a slightly wide berth, and he lit it with a zippo lighter from his pants pocket.

"Well, Toto. I think we're a long way from Kansas." It would seem less weird if he were talking to anyone in particular.

ii. the market district tavern

Cole is the best at what he does, and what he does...is drink, which is to say he goes with the best way to process this new place is to try out their liquor. The little guy did give him some coin. He'd better get to wasting it. Walking into the tavern itself feels a lot like going to a Ren Faire to him, only the corsets are way better done, and he isn't paying with cash, but actual coins that weren't minted by a machine. So weird, but he could groove with it. He takes a seat at the bar, and the tavern keep gets his order. "Something harder than the beer," is his only specification.

The keep slides a glass of amber liquid his way and he smiles, pleased, at the aroma. "That's what I'm talking about."

iii. network || text

[He could have gone shopping, but Cole is aware some of the people here have been here for a while and they might be a place to start.]

Hey, old-timers. I hear some of you have been around for a long time. How familiar are you with the products available around here? Best place to find arms and armor? Alchemy ingredients?

[He may be attempting to pretend he's in a video game and figuring out how someone would refer to something normal.

He may also be looking into how to make explosives. Who knows?]

(OOC: If you'd like a personalized prompt here, just let me know, or feel free to start your own! This will also be used as a catch-all for logs throughout May (with potential even shinanigans)

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

Continued from Here

It would take a lot of doing for Cole to be easy-going about anything here or anywhere else. He'd done undercover work with the CIA and he could pretend with the best of them, but behind that casual, almost flippant persona, was a man who was wound as tight as a bow-string and ready to spring into action at the drop of a proverbial hat.

He nodded. So Mr. Tweed here had heard of Koolaid, but in the respect of having it explained to him. He'd probably never even had the stuff. He wasn't missing much. "Yeah. I became vogue for cult leaders to lace it with cyanide to feed it to their loyal followers to aid them on their 'journies'." He shrugged, taking a hit from the glass the tavernkeep and so graciously refilled. "Maybe that was just the one time, but it was a pretty big deal."

He chuckled, nodding and taking a bit of spiced potato. Yeah, definitely at a Ren Faire. "As long as it's not poisoned, I think we'll get along okay. Otherwise, I might be a little pissed off."

Mr. Tweed had at least heard of a lot of things that someone from his era probably wouldn’t have normally. The whole… cult leaders poisoning their followers’ thing was a new one, evidently, by the expression on his face. An awkward furrow of his brows and a frown tugging at his expression indicated as much. “I’d say with something like that, once would be hard to forget.”

But at least he understood the reference now, and he was quite quick to wave that notion off as he took a bite of his own meal. Just a sandwich for now, since he intended to eat again later. “No, I assure you that there’s no poison involved. That would ruin a rather good meal, and I’ve already had food ruined by that before.” He commented, considering past experiences with a shrug. Murderous twelve-year-olds and bottles of strychnine did not mix with carnival foods well.

"Yeah. People are still writing books about that thing. Jonestown, the Peoples' Temple. 900 people killing themselves to 'transition'. Crazy shit." And he'd lived through Vietnam.

"Hang on. Somebody tried to poison you?" Maybe it wasn't fair of Cole to assume so little of Watts, but he just couldn't help it.

“I can’t say that’s something I stumbled across when I was reading about the future of my world, though I suppose there are many. Or I just didn’t pick up the correct book.” He responded with a small frown, his stomach a bit queasy at that. A lot of wasted life, it was sad… What drove people to do such things, all for their beliefs? Llewellyn wasn’t sure he would ever understand it.

The question gets a distracted little hum, “Mm…? Yup, it was a few years ago now, and she failed despite her best efforts.” He added with an awkward shrug. Truthfully, he was damn lucky to be alive. The girl had managed to get several people before almost poisoning him, and if Murdoch hadn’t realized the truth, he probably wouldn’t have prevented it.

Now there was some useful information. "That something you can just grab at the library, huh?" It was asked sarcastically, but he was keeping it in mind if Watts answered in the affirmative. If that was the case, it implied a lot about this place. He wasn't sure what, exactly, but he'd get to the bottom of it. If he'd learned one thing working with the CIA, it was how to investigate things people wanted to keep secret. Not everything the US government gave him was a sack of cats.

He chuckled, not knowing the context didn't change the outcome. "Lucky you. Poison's a bad way to go."

Llewellyn hummed slightly at the question, “In the last world I found myself trapped, it was. This world has an extensive collection as well, though… It’s organization was slightly chaotic last I was in it. There is a new curator, though, and he seems a little more agreeable than the being that directed people before.” The detective supposed he hadn’t had as much experience with the director as other people in this world had, but he rather preferred the new curator at any rate. He seemed decent enough to speak to from his first impression.

“I did count myself rather lucky, yes. Having, uh- witnessed the last person on the list’s passing, it wasn’t pretty. Though I don’t expect there are many ways to go that would be pleasant.” And he plucks at his sandwich to take a bite out of, his appetite unaffected by the line of conversation.

"There are a lot of ways to die, pal, and some of them are nicer than others." Cole had seen his fair share on both sides of the list and had been responsible for many of them.

"So, we got a new librarian, huh, and...the place has stuff from...other worlds?" Now that was interesting information.

llewellyn watts || tdm continuation

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Arrival

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ii. the market district tavern

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