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fluxscape2020-09-26 12:26 pm
fluxscapemod) wrote in fluxscape2020-09-26 12:26 pm
Arrivals - Beachville pt 2: OTA!
Who: New Arrivals, Jerry Schiff and YOU!!
What: More arrivals show up in Beachville. There are cookies for the people that behave.
Where: The Information Booth which, while at the same place it always is, seems to have changed a tad!
When: Mid-Morning, September 27th.
Warnings: Just mind your CWs. There's probably swearing, too.
It starts off simple enough. There isn't even any warning. No feeling like something's coming. No little instinct in the back of your head or what have you that tells you change is coming. You blink, your setting has changed. It's as simple and as quick as that. From where you stand, you're surrounded by tall palm trees. The ground beneath your feet is green, a well maintained lawn like one would find in a city park. A clean, salty scent only found on untouched, tropical paradises. You can hear the sounds of the beach. People laughing, amusement park rides thundering in the background. And it's actually pretty peaceful. Even the weather is perfect. Just the right amount of Summer heat without being muggy or humid. There are tropical birds singing in the trees around you, and a light breeze in the trees, rustling the leaves. It's pleasant. Until someone clears their throat nearby. And this is when you notice you're not the only person standing there with a confused look on your face. You're part of a crowd, surrounding an information booth with an older gentleman inside, several stone paths leading away from the booth and towards the nearby beach town.
Was that information booth always there? And how long has the man inside been watching you with that look on his face that suggests he's internally sighing at your presence? He seems friendly enough, however, and once all eyes are on him, he begins speaking.
"Can I have your attention please?" he says, voice calm, lightly accented, fairly monotone, but still gets your attention just the same. And certainly 'no nonsense.' "My name is Jerry Schiff and I run the information booth. I have several envelopes with names on them, so if you hear your name, please step forward and claim your money and information."
With that, he runs down the list of names. And what do you know, your name is on that list.
When you approach, you'll be handed a packet containing money, enough to get through the month, and an information pamphlet about Beachville, along with a note from the mayor welcoming you to town and telling you your stipend only lasts so long and there are many employment opportunities in town. There's also a map with an address and a set of keys. This is where you'll live. The last thing he says to you is to check the chest in your living-room, you'll know which one, before he hands the polite people a box of cookies. They smell amazing and the box is warm, like they're very, very fresh. You might even find your favorite cookies in the box. They've won awards and are delicious. Just as an aside, though; for anyone that's rude, no cookies. For anyone that tries to take a box anyway, they'll find the box is empty. Maybe even full of dead leaves and rocks. That's what you get for acting up, apparently.
Rude enough and he'll shut the information booth windows. No amount of knocking and screaming, magic or psychic abilities will get the doors open again. The booth is pretty resistant, as is the man inside.
Once everyone has their information, Jerry will thank everyone for their cooperation, close the booth down and head into town. Try to follow him. After rounding a corner, he'll seem to vanish and no amount of looking will find him again.
It seems as though the only things left to do are either talk to the people around you, or find your new home.
What: More arrivals show up in Beachville. There are cookies for the people that behave.
Where: The Information Booth which, while at the same place it always is, seems to have changed a tad!
When: Mid-Morning, September 27th.
Warnings: Just mind your CWs. There's probably swearing, too.
It starts off simple enough. There isn't even any warning. No feeling like something's coming. No little instinct in the back of your head or what have you that tells you change is coming. You blink, your setting has changed. It's as simple and as quick as that. From where you stand, you're surrounded by tall palm trees. The ground beneath your feet is green, a well maintained lawn like one would find in a city park. A clean, salty scent only found on untouched, tropical paradises. You can hear the sounds of the beach. People laughing, amusement park rides thundering in the background. And it's actually pretty peaceful. Even the weather is perfect. Just the right amount of Summer heat without being muggy or humid. There are tropical birds singing in the trees around you, and a light breeze in the trees, rustling the leaves. It's pleasant. Until someone clears their throat nearby. And this is when you notice you're not the only person standing there with a confused look on your face. You're part of a crowd, surrounding an information booth with an older gentleman inside, several stone paths leading away from the booth and towards the nearby beach town.
Was that information booth always there? And how long has the man inside been watching you with that look on his face that suggests he's internally sighing at your presence? He seems friendly enough, however, and once all eyes are on him, he begins speaking.
"Can I have your attention please?" he says, voice calm, lightly accented, fairly monotone, but still gets your attention just the same. And certainly 'no nonsense.' "My name is Jerry Schiff and I run the information booth. I have several envelopes with names on them, so if you hear your name, please step forward and claim your money and information."
With that, he runs down the list of names. And what do you know, your name is on that list.
When you approach, you'll be handed a packet containing money, enough to get through the month, and an information pamphlet about Beachville, along with a note from the mayor welcoming you to town and telling you your stipend only lasts so long and there are many employment opportunities in town. There's also a map with an address and a set of keys. This is where you'll live. The last thing he says to you is to check the chest in your living-room, you'll know which one, before he hands the polite people a box of cookies. They smell amazing and the box is warm, like they're very, very fresh. You might even find your favorite cookies in the box. They've won awards and are delicious. Just as an aside, though; for anyone that's rude, no cookies. For anyone that tries to take a box anyway, they'll find the box is empty. Maybe even full of dead leaves and rocks. That's what you get for acting up, apparently.
Rude enough and he'll shut the information booth windows. No amount of knocking and screaming, magic or psychic abilities will get the doors open again. The booth is pretty resistant, as is the man inside.
Once everyone has their information, Jerry will thank everyone for their cooperation, close the booth down and head into town. Try to follow him. After rounding a corner, he'll seem to vanish and no amount of looking will find him again.
It seems as though the only things left to do are either talk to the people around you, or find your new home.
no subject
"Oh, sorry," he said, despite not having even run into him.
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Although, something did stick out. Bruce had no spider-senses or superpowers like Superman. He just had a keen eye and was too good of a detective for his own good. Still. Everything in Flux seemed to stick out.
He glanced at the cookie. "You must be new here. Seen Jerry?"
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So he answered with a grin, brushing the crumbs from his hand. "Yeah, kinda just showed up in front of his booth, so he was the first person I saw. Which turned out great, because I got a lot of info and cookies."
So it wasn't that bad a day.
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No, he preferred to go out and investigate on his own. A few questions here and there on the network. Now it was ground work and sticking his nose into things that probably shouldn't concern him. Thankfully, it didn't seem like many people knew who Bruce Wayne was.
"Bruce Wayne."
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He didn't really talk much to Jerry, but he seemed like a nice guy.
"Miles Morales. Nice to meet you."
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"Likewise." He tilts his head. "High school?"
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His tone was still light and mostly joking, but there is an undercurrent of genuine skepticism in it.
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A pause and another smile. "Sorry, didn't mean to have you listen to the ramblings of an older man."
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One of the downsides - perks? - of being the son of a cop.
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He'd already given them a lot to worry about lately.
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It was still embarrassing at times, but he was learning to appreciate it.
"But thanks for the reminder."
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Not that he's going to share those details--especially to someone so much younger. It reminds him of how Dick used to be. Before... well. It all happened.
"Where are you from, Miles? It sounds like a New York accent."
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If coming to terms with it as a teen was difficult, he wondered what it was like having to figure it out again as an adult. His dad hadn't made it sound too easy, though he was getting better too.
"You're not wrong. I was born and raised in Brooklyn."
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A sigh. That'll be enough for that.
"I've been to New York a few times. Can't say I've managed to make my way to Brookyln."
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"You're really missing out then. There's a lot of great food and stuff to see in Brooklyn."