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open rp post
DROP IN PROMPTS, PICTURES, OLD THREADS, A POST OR EVEN TFLN BRING IT.
( cw: body horror, gore, violence & etc. in some threads + please label threads for such. )
DROP IN PROMPTS, PICTURES, OLD THREADS, A POST OR EVEN TFLN BRING IT.
( cw: body horror, gore, violence & etc. in some threads + please label threads for such. )
no subject
you never let go of that thing whenever you have it
strange of you to offer it now just because you think it might interest me
[ in trials, he sometimes comes across discarded items—toolboxes and medical chests and those damned flashlights—but never what he recognizes as more personal possessions. A silver cross clasped between shaking fingers, a pink cloth tied tightly around a straining wrist... and Zarina's camera, even though its weight can only slow her down in a chase. ]
no subject
What makes my offer suspicious to you?
no subject
no subject
Look, this is just me feeling friendly enough to lend it to you. If you don't want it, just say so already.
no subject
a very long pause. ]
bring it here then
but itll be no fault of mine if you get caught by someone else on the way over
no subject
Give me a few minutes then.
no subject
He ought to have refused. Turned her away several times and never let her set foot again on such an inquisitive path, his own curiosity be damned. A bounty hunter needs only to know enough about his quarry to anticipate their movements. Deepening an acquaintance beyond that can lead nowhere good.
And yet—is she just someone he hunts now?
With a shake of his head and a sigh, he continues wiping down the pieces of the Redeemer with a cloth, resolved not to think more on that.
Though the building Caleb appropriated and made into a workshop is a walk of mere minutes down the road from the saloon, it's still somewhat hidden. As decrepit-looking as the rest of Glenvale and windowless, its entrance is boarded up and padlocked during a trial. Outside of one, he keeps the door open whenever he's working within, unwilling to shut himself inside a stifling darkness. It admits just enough sunlight to illuminate his workbench and a small forge on the other side of the room. Various tools gleam dully from where they hang on the walls. Crates rest under the workbench and in the far corners, some sealed and others showing a jumble of equipment ( including a few flashlights ). A couple of toolboxes gathered in the aftermath of trials sit on shelves, their contents neatly sorted.
Zarina surely hasn't seen this place. She might not even find him here. But Caleb isn't inclined at all to stop his work and head over to the saloon. She's already interrupted him for too long for his liking with her incessant questions. ]
no subject
at first it confuses her. of course she thinks about the destination they go out to scavenge for supplies — why wouldn't she? zarina's the type of person who, when it comes to work, would memorize blueprints and camera placements so that no clue gets left behind of her possible appearance. it's explained to her how everything just seems to fall into place after imagining the realm they plan to steal from — how imagining and desiring to go to a single place, or meet a single person, is strangely granted within the fog.
zarina absolutely understands it after bumping into jed several times in the fog. how she hates meeting him despite how he acts like a normal person — she doesn't forget how he takes her camera, recorder, and beanie now and then with blood as a result during trials. it's why she only hopes not to meet the man briefly before focusing on her destination, focusing on the person she does wish to meet instead.
glenvale. caleb quinn. sunlight. the stars in the sky.
the first realm she steps into isn't glenvale, but still somewhere bright despite the sun constantly hiding behind numerous clouds. already she recognizes it as the farm — not her final destination, but she passes through without catching the attention of the two chainsaw wielding men who can break her in half without trouble. zarina grows up learning quiet steps to the point it's necessary with her career, after all.
running a hand through her hair and combing any leaves or hay remaining, she finally steps out of the cold fog and into the familiar heat of the west. already she beelines straight towards the saloon. though cheeks still flushed from the stolen whiskey she drinks prior, zarina isn't as intoxicated as when she messages him today. ]
Hello? [ she calls out, waiting for a response. ] Are you here, Quinn?
[ a minute passes before zarina lets out a thoughtful hum. where's the man who wishes to study her camera up close? she doesn't forget his confirmation on yes, he'd like to see it least he never does in the future.
so, where could he be?
as always, zarina begins to look around the empty town of glenvale when the saloon proves to be empty in the end. did he change his mind or up and disappear for a trial? if it's the former, then why doesn't he say so and stop wasting her time? if it's the latter, then she can wait.
already she begins to shed her wool scarf and leather jacket thanks to the weather while peeking through the windows of various small buildings in the area. they're different — something she's noted long ago ever since the first interview. corpses are missing as well as the generators, lockers, and various walls that she's become so used to. there are doors and glass windows in places that are normally bare; no barriers for everyone to run through without panicking at locked doors with nowhere to run in the end.
speaking of doors — ]
Knock knock, cowboy. [ she says while tapping on the wooden portion of the open door; she finally finds him. it's after the knock that hazel eyes finally look around at what's actually inside the room. ] What is this place?
no subject
When the knock comes, he doesn't acknowledge it right away. Only after he finishes cleaning around the Redeemer's lever does he glance over at Zarina. His eyebrows raise as he takes in her altered appearance—particularly the bits of... straw? sticking out of the scarf draped over her arm. Did she decide to make a detour to that farm before coming here? Or did she simply get lost on the way?
( and... "cowboy," again? Why in the world is she still holding onto that idea after all this time? )
Unlike some people, however, Caleb doesn't give immediate voice to his thoughts. ]
My workshop.
[ he gestures around him with a perfunctory wave, then turns back to his workbench to wipe the smudges of black oil from his hands with the already stained cleaning cloth. No further introduction or explanation. She's got eyes, after all—and probably more questions than he can head off. ]
Find yourself a seat. Or you can give me the camera and stay outside.
[ with its single entrance, the workshop isn't nearly as open as the saloon. Nowhere to even think about running to. The Redeemer's mostly in pieces at the moment, but he's far from unarmed with so many tools within easy reach. He wouldn't blame her at all if she chooses to keep her distance—even if he does cut a much less intimidating figure now than the one he presents during trials. Caleb's coat and bandoliers hang from pegs by the door, leaving him in a simple ensemble of a dark button-up shirt, trousers, and boots. His hat rests on a nearby stool. With his hair tied back and his sleeves rolled up past his forearms, he looks like any typical man of his time taking his ease at home.
Except Glenvale wasn't and will never be home for him. But it is his, in a sense—not to mention the only place he gets respite from the Entity's demands for blood and suffering. Hopefully it wasn't a mistake inviting someone like Zarina to disturb that. ]
no subject
silence takes over her voice as she walks in one step at a time, leaving the door open just the way she finds it. pupils shifting to look towards one part of the room and next while taking everything in about the unfamiliar part of glenvale... a place of solitude for an inventor, isn't it? no wonder this specific building ends up locked behind closed doors during a trial — attempting to sneak into areas without notice had been one of her first instincts upon hearing far-too-loud heartbeats incoming her way.
already zarina reminds herself that she shouldn't assume more than the person who actually resides here, but her wonder takes over while taking in the various tools and machinery there happens to be. hands have yet to reach out for the promised device as her head turns, looking upwards to see how the place is lit beyond natural sunlight and what other inventions he may have that isn't just his weapon.
is the machine that shoots spikes for railroad tracks here? or the steam powered drill? what inventions aren't worth mentioning? ]
How long did it take you to set up this place? [ zarina finally speaks out one of the many, many questions in her mind before she walks over towards caleb, a hand digging through the leather messenger bag she always brings. ] And I don't suppose the drill is here with you, is it? I'd love to see it.
[ it takes her a moment, but eventually the documentarian pulls out what looks to be a simple black, slim camera that's as small as the cellphone they're gifted with by the entity.
click goes a button, and the lens extends already with a preview of whatever is in front of it right at this moment — part of caleb's hand, the table he's working on, and the redeemer — in full view of the screen at the back. ]
And see? Different already.
no subject
Still—it does make him wonder what his workshop is like to someone who isn’t used to it. Especially a survivor. What did she notice first? The odors of charcoal, machine oil, and sawdust? The ladder in the corner leading upwards into the shadows of an open trapdoor? The pulley system crisscrossing the ceiling, suspending a ( currently unlit ) lantern that—with a tug on its ropes—he can bring nearer to whichever part of the room needs more light? Or maybe she’s spotted the half-finished, hand-sized model of a generator sitting on one of the workbench’s shelves atop a sheaf of sketches?
An ever-distrustful part of him answers: she might be only looking around to take note of what she can scavenge later. But it’s easy to push aside. If Zarina thinks she can simply stroll on in whenever he’s away—for a trial or otherwise—then she’ll be in for a painful surprise.
When she finally breaks the silence, Caleb has to bite back a derisive laugh. Here come the questions, fast as the ones she peppered him with in her messages. But it's nothing new. Not after her so-called interview—and it figures she'd be just as bold even without any guarantee of safety. ]
Haven't seen it yet. [ considering the Entity's fondness for pulling objects out of his memories, he wouldn't be surprised if it did show up eventually. ] And this all took about... twenty or thirty trials to put together.
[ he leaves it at that, not wanting to dwell on how time flows the same here and in Hellshire: long and meaningless, its divisions marked only by the arbitrary whims of his jailer. Fortunately, it's then that Zarina unearths her camera from her bag and holds it out for him to examine. He leans in a little closer.
It's not the camera he expects. The lens on this one protrude only when she pushes a button. And it's much smaller. That isn't strange on its own; designing machines to take up less space while keeping or improving its speed and efficiency is an eternal puzzle for an engineer. It is different though, as she said. The brief blurriness before its display focuses doesn’t keep the colors from shining through. Looking between what the camera's pointed at and their counterparts on its screen, he can pick out a subtle brightening. As if it doesn't need the pale thin sunlight coming in through the door to create the images it shows. Is it just to allow the one using it to see better? Or would the pictures keep the same vividness once taken?
Caleb tamps down on the urge to dismantle it and see its inner workings. No owner of a valued tool would give it up so easily. He definitely wouldn't. So, he starts with the most obvious: ]
This ain’t the usual one you have in trials. [ or at least, in his. ] Did you find it somewhere here? Or was it somethin’ you already had with you when you—arrived?