First Stanza: [Action/Written]

[burns_so_brightly]

[The gentleman walking out of Community Building 1 does not live there, and in fact didn’t even walk in there in the first place. He’s dressed in a suit, tie, and trench coat and is tossing a fedora between his hands. Julian Bell walks through Luceti with a smile, as if this is nothing more than an exceptionally lucky day. He’s keen to explore and peers into every shop, sometimes actually going inside. The library holds his fascination for some time, and he’s delighted to find his own published books of poetry there (even if he’d admit it’s a faintly narcissistic pleasure).

He eventually sits down at the tea shop to read, looking for all the world like this is a vacation day and not the day after his death. That part, he’ll address once this actually sinks in.

At night, he’s at Cloud Nine, enjoying a Scotch on the rocks and a cigarette and listening to the music. For a crappy oppressed town, this place is doing very well!

Eventually, he works past an unusual (for him) nervousness and writes over the journals.]

Am I allowed to take any empty flat, or is that supposed to be assigned?

-Julian Bell

Comments

[burns_so_brightly]

[Julian was in a war. For a month, yes, but he was in one. He's not going near the guy waving a spear around in public. He'll find an alternate path to where he's going if he must.]

[relictusdeus]

[In Valachia, Isaac was accustomed to but the briefest of interactions with villagers, snarling a few words before gleefully driving the spear through their bodies and watching them squirm like insects. The angry defiance he was occasionally met with was nothing more than something for him to laugh at, to mock, to toy with. As keenly thrilling as those moments of explosive violence directed towards strangers could be, the excitement had a tendency to fizzle out too quickly, leaving him aching deeply for something lasting.

Something slightly more… meaningful and satisfying.

And so, he decides on an impulse that it won't do just to thrust his weapon at this arbitrarily-chosen victim and to end things here and now. No; Isaac would simply like to chat with him, to shake him to his core with a piercing look, to stop and revel in the smell of fear.

To learn a little bit about Julian, in other words.

Carefully sheathing his spear at his back, he approaches one deliberate step at a time, seeming as relaxed and cooly confident as ever.] Where are you heading in such a hurry...? [He asks lightly, regardless of Julian's pace. He holds out his arms, a faint smile playing his lips.] Home, I presume? Where it is warm and safe?

[burns_so_brightly]

[Julian takes a step back from him, then turns and begins to jog another way.]