[.}Identity Shift{.][Chaos]
May 18, 2011 20:37:39 GMT -5
Post by WT on May 18, 2011 20:37:39 GMT -5
((OOC- *rubs eyes* This is my first full-length post with Dy. Hopefully it isn't too horribly obvious how uncomfortable I am with her. Sorry that the end was kind of rushed; I got frustrated and wanted to stitch it up as fast as possible. I hope I gave you enough to do something with.
I wasn't sure what board to put it in, main or Underground, so here it is. If you think it should be moved, just say so. ^^))
No matter how long she waited in the train (which could, for all anyone would tell her, be forever), Dy doubted she would ever get used to the shifting landscape outside. The vehicle itself shook her worldview quite enough. Just sleeping had become difficult; years of concrete had seen to it that she was more comfortable on the floor than in a bed, so spending every night in one was comfortable in a way that set her on edge and made his back twinge. Windows and the shifting landscapes they revealed made the disorientation worse. Even after days on board, she couldn't go past a window without skittering away. At least the vomiting had stopped; early on Dy had found that the swish of a skirt against his ankles could keep the nausea of moving at bay, which had been a relief of untold proportions for both her and the janitorial crew.
Unfortunately, today was not the sort of day that called for skirts. Why, he couldn't say; feminine clothing had been fine for the past few days, so there was no reason why she should be uncomfortable with it now. Reasonable or not, though, she hadn't been able to force herself into a dress this morning. Compensating for the lack of familiar sensations was difficult; walking only helped a little, but sitting still immediately made her woozy, even when the train was at its smoothest.
As far as Dy could figure, the only solution was to walk and do something calming at the same time, as suggested by one of the unfortunate staff members who had been stuck on cleaning duty during those first few hours. While the girl probably hadn't intended for the "something calming" to include sharp objects, the only personal objects Dy had taken on this trip were clothing and knitting supplies. For this reason, when the train crossed into District Twelve she was pacing in circles around his tiny room, trailing a long knitted scarf-thing.
"Miss Jemidi, we're- oh my." Another staff member, this one a boy in his late teens, stopped short and blinked at the object shadowing Dy's footsteps. For a moment she wondered about the look of repugnance, then looked down and realized that he had long since become anxious enough to abandon colour and shape alike, turning perfectly good yarn into a monstrosity of orange and pink blobs. Blushing, she lowered her hands and nodded to the runner, who jerked as though realizing that he was staring. "We're approaching our District Twelve stop. Some of the men will get your cargo out on the ground for you. You might want to get ready to get off."
Dy glanced at the bottom of the bed. His one suitcase just peeked out from the bottom; apart from the yarn and needles she was working with and the clothes she was wearing, that was the only thing in the room. "I think I'm about ready. Thanks for telling me."
The boy dipped his head and started to turn, then twisted back quickly. "You do know there's soap in the last car for clothes."
Dy stared at him for a long moment, trying to decipher his meaning. "Yes, I- yes." Try as he might, his mind could not come up with anything useful to augment her blank stare. "Why?"
Her temporary companion raised an eyebrow. "You didn't need to borrow a suit."
Oh. He thought- oh. Blushing fiercely now, she shook her head. "I know. I- I wanted to wear this."
With a shrug, the boy accepted this and exited, presumably moving on to the next cabin. Dy folded the travesty of a scarf as well as he could- the yarn could always be unwound and knitted properly later- and pulled out the suitcase to tuck everything away. It should only have taken a moment, but his hands were shaking badly enough to send most of the packing astray. More carefully, Dy pulled her meager collection of belongings out and then repacked everything, pausing frequently to make sure he didn't mess anything up. By the time the endeavor was completed, the train was slowing down and becoming bumpier, and by the time Dy had dragged his nauseous self to the door of his compartment they were stopping entirely.
Stillness, after three days of continuous travel, was almost more sickening than movement. Dy less disembarked and more fell out of the train; mere seconds after her right foot hit the ground, the rest of her body followed in a grand collapse. Trying to push himself up was a bad idea; he ended up hunched over, mostly horizontal and gagging madly.
"Are you alright there, sir?"
Dy choked back a convulsion and forced her head up. The motion made her head and stomach scream even more, but it also revealed the speaker, an older man with a clipboard and a light grey hat. "My stomach..."
"First time on a train?" the stranger said sympathetically. Dy nodded as subtly as possible so as not to reignite the queasiness that was beginning to settle. He reached out a hand, and slowly but surely the two managed between them to get Dy to her feet. "You're doing fine, son. Happens to the best of us. And you're stomach's stronger'n you'd think- no actual vomit, see, just some gaggin'. Now, are you with one of the shipments?"
"Yes, sir," Dy murmured, then paused to remember what she was supposed to say. "Xaree- wait, no. My name is Dy Jemidi, and I'm with Xaree Factories. The shipment is a response to a request made two weeks ago and there should be four crates of- of-" shoot shoot shoot shoot, what was this part?- "something for the coal here. Sorters, I think, but I don't know." Blast it! Her overseer had said the name of the things about fifteen times. Why couldn't she remember?
The man squinted at his clipboard, eyes moving rapidly from each side to the other, then flipped to another page. "Well, I don't see any coal-sorting things. But your company's on this here list, so we can figure it out in a bit." He scanned it again, then did a sudden double-take at something on the page. Dy shifted his weight from one foot to the other as the stranger looked up, lips pursed. "I'm sorry. The name matches, but- I was told to expect a woman...?"
"Ah." Dy scratched the back of his neck, wishing for all she was worth that today hadn't been a suit day, let alone a day when binding seemed like a good idea. "Erm- I'm not sure that- I'm not quite-"
Looking as keen to dispel the awkward tension as Dy was, the paperwork man nodded. "It's only a mix-up, I'm sure. Someone circles the wrong thing on one form, next thing you know all the others say the same thing and everyone is misinformed. It happens all the time. Here, go ahead and sign."
Feeling dazed, Dy took the proffered pen and scribbled down her name. Why had the factory decided to send him, of all people? Nobody else would have gotten into that situation, let alone been too stupid to think up a halfway decent excuse. Blasted paperwork. Someday she was going to fill out his own forms and bubble in both circles- but then, that would require explanation too, wouldn't it? "Thank you. You and the other movers have it all from here, right?"
The stranger finished putting down his own signature and looked up. "Sure do! You'll need to go over to central offices to make sure your company gets paid, through. A confirmation for what cargo arrived should come through in about an hour. Sign off on that, and then you can hop on the next train home!" Seeing the look on Dy's face, the man laughed. "Don't worry, you'll do fine. Second times are always better than firsts."
To Dy's mind, everything was better once you got past the first of its kind, but that didn't mean he was eager to spend another three days in constant motion. "Thank you. Where is the office I need to go to?"
The man handed him a map, traced out a path along the multitude of roads, and bid Dy farewell so that he could go check on the other arrivals. His departure was, for Dy, something of a cause for panic; heretofore she hadn't been frightened of the unfamiliar surroundings because someone else had been right there the whole time, but now that he was alone every confused little synapse in his brain went into overdrive. Only the map and suitcase kept her from crumpling into a burbling mess; he clutched one in each hand as the drowning clutch rope, and by focusing on them managed to remain upright while making his way out of the station.
Once in the open street, however, she froze. All at once, it hit him that he wasn't home anymore. Coal from the trains had kept the air thick with smoke that, though thinner than he was used to, produced the comforting illusion of factory smog. Here in the main part of District Twelve, there was almost no hint of the familiar rough texture; the air was warmer than she was accustomed to, but smoother somehow, easier to breath. It was unnerving.
Furthermore, Dy had never in her life had cause to read a map, and the thing baffled her. The key may as well have been written in Latin, and for the life of him he couldn't figure out how something she could step on was supposed to be able to guide her across an entire town.
For lack of any better ideas, he decided to just start wandering. With no goal in mind, though, he had no way to figure out whether she was on the right track, and never noticed as she meandered further and further from her target. Because he wasn't expecting anything in particular, nothing cued her off to being in the wrong place. From the main square straight through the outskirts of the District, everything seemed just as strange and scary and possibly-correct as everything else. Even as he wandered through a broken fence and into the forest, and started to feel like something was probably going wrong here, she didn't really give it any thought.
He didn't, in fact, allow himself to wonder if he'd gone the wrong way until well into the afternoon, when she found herself standing in front of some all-too-familiar (although not smoking, as she was used to seeing them) ruins. He glanced behind him, but all she found the vast expanse of forest she'd just emerged from, and the map didn't seem to say anything about trees.
Completely clueless as to where she had come from and how to get back there, Dy pulled out her needles and began unraveling the scarf that wasn't really anything like a scarf. It wouldn't really get her anywhere, but she could (and did) continue to walk as he worked, so it was better than sitting down and crying.
Maybe there would be another train station around here. Probably not- but a homesick boy could hope, couldn't she?
I wasn't sure what board to put it in, main or Underground, so here it is. If you think it should be moved, just say so. ^^))
No matter how long she waited in the train (which could, for all anyone would tell her, be forever), Dy doubted she would ever get used to the shifting landscape outside. The vehicle itself shook her worldview quite enough. Just sleeping had become difficult; years of concrete had seen to it that she was more comfortable on the floor than in a bed, so spending every night in one was comfortable in a way that set her on edge and made his back twinge. Windows and the shifting landscapes they revealed made the disorientation worse. Even after days on board, she couldn't go past a window without skittering away. At least the vomiting had stopped; early on Dy had found that the swish of a skirt against his ankles could keep the nausea of moving at bay, which had been a relief of untold proportions for both her and the janitorial crew.
Unfortunately, today was not the sort of day that called for skirts. Why, he couldn't say; feminine clothing had been fine for the past few days, so there was no reason why she should be uncomfortable with it now. Reasonable or not, though, she hadn't been able to force herself into a dress this morning. Compensating for the lack of familiar sensations was difficult; walking only helped a little, but sitting still immediately made her woozy, even when the train was at its smoothest.
As far as Dy could figure, the only solution was to walk and do something calming at the same time, as suggested by one of the unfortunate staff members who had been stuck on cleaning duty during those first few hours. While the girl probably hadn't intended for the "something calming" to include sharp objects, the only personal objects Dy had taken on this trip were clothing and knitting supplies. For this reason, when the train crossed into District Twelve she was pacing in circles around his tiny room, trailing a long knitted scarf-thing.
"Miss Jemidi, we're- oh my." Another staff member, this one a boy in his late teens, stopped short and blinked at the object shadowing Dy's footsteps. For a moment she wondered about the look of repugnance, then looked down and realized that he had long since become anxious enough to abandon colour and shape alike, turning perfectly good yarn into a monstrosity of orange and pink blobs. Blushing, she lowered her hands and nodded to the runner, who jerked as though realizing that he was staring. "We're approaching our District Twelve stop. Some of the men will get your cargo out on the ground for you. You might want to get ready to get off."
Dy glanced at the bottom of the bed. His one suitcase just peeked out from the bottom; apart from the yarn and needles she was working with and the clothes she was wearing, that was the only thing in the room. "I think I'm about ready. Thanks for telling me."
The boy dipped his head and started to turn, then twisted back quickly. "You do know there's soap in the last car for clothes."
Dy stared at him for a long moment, trying to decipher his meaning. "Yes, I- yes." Try as he might, his mind could not come up with anything useful to augment her blank stare. "Why?"
Her temporary companion raised an eyebrow. "You didn't need to borrow a suit."
Oh. He thought- oh. Blushing fiercely now, she shook her head. "I know. I- I wanted to wear this."
With a shrug, the boy accepted this and exited, presumably moving on to the next cabin. Dy folded the travesty of a scarf as well as he could- the yarn could always be unwound and knitted properly later- and pulled out the suitcase to tuck everything away. It should only have taken a moment, but his hands were shaking badly enough to send most of the packing astray. More carefully, Dy pulled her meager collection of belongings out and then repacked everything, pausing frequently to make sure he didn't mess anything up. By the time the endeavor was completed, the train was slowing down and becoming bumpier, and by the time Dy had dragged his nauseous self to the door of his compartment they were stopping entirely.
Stillness, after three days of continuous travel, was almost more sickening than movement. Dy less disembarked and more fell out of the train; mere seconds after her right foot hit the ground, the rest of her body followed in a grand collapse. Trying to push himself up was a bad idea; he ended up hunched over, mostly horizontal and gagging madly.
"Are you alright there, sir?"
Dy choked back a convulsion and forced her head up. The motion made her head and stomach scream even more, but it also revealed the speaker, an older man with a clipboard and a light grey hat. "My stomach..."
"First time on a train?" the stranger said sympathetically. Dy nodded as subtly as possible so as not to reignite the queasiness that was beginning to settle. He reached out a hand, and slowly but surely the two managed between them to get Dy to her feet. "You're doing fine, son. Happens to the best of us. And you're stomach's stronger'n you'd think- no actual vomit, see, just some gaggin'. Now, are you with one of the shipments?"
"Yes, sir," Dy murmured, then paused to remember what she was supposed to say. "Xaree- wait, no. My name is Dy Jemidi, and I'm with Xaree Factories. The shipment is a response to a request made two weeks ago and there should be four crates of- of-" shoot shoot shoot shoot, what was this part?- "something for the coal here. Sorters, I think, but I don't know." Blast it! Her overseer had said the name of the things about fifteen times. Why couldn't she remember?
The man squinted at his clipboard, eyes moving rapidly from each side to the other, then flipped to another page. "Well, I don't see any coal-sorting things. But your company's on this here list, so we can figure it out in a bit." He scanned it again, then did a sudden double-take at something on the page. Dy shifted his weight from one foot to the other as the stranger looked up, lips pursed. "I'm sorry. The name matches, but- I was told to expect a woman...?"
"Ah." Dy scratched the back of his neck, wishing for all she was worth that today hadn't been a suit day, let alone a day when binding seemed like a good idea. "Erm- I'm not sure that- I'm not quite-"
Looking as keen to dispel the awkward tension as Dy was, the paperwork man nodded. "It's only a mix-up, I'm sure. Someone circles the wrong thing on one form, next thing you know all the others say the same thing and everyone is misinformed. It happens all the time. Here, go ahead and sign."
Feeling dazed, Dy took the proffered pen and scribbled down her name. Why had the factory decided to send him, of all people? Nobody else would have gotten into that situation, let alone been too stupid to think up a halfway decent excuse. Blasted paperwork. Someday she was going to fill out his own forms and bubble in both circles- but then, that would require explanation too, wouldn't it? "Thank you. You and the other movers have it all from here, right?"
The stranger finished putting down his own signature and looked up. "Sure do! You'll need to go over to central offices to make sure your company gets paid, through. A confirmation for what cargo arrived should come through in about an hour. Sign off on that, and then you can hop on the next train home!" Seeing the look on Dy's face, the man laughed. "Don't worry, you'll do fine. Second times are always better than firsts."
To Dy's mind, everything was better once you got past the first of its kind, but that didn't mean he was eager to spend another three days in constant motion. "Thank you. Where is the office I need to go to?"
The man handed him a map, traced out a path along the multitude of roads, and bid Dy farewell so that he could go check on the other arrivals. His departure was, for Dy, something of a cause for panic; heretofore she hadn't been frightened of the unfamiliar surroundings because someone else had been right there the whole time, but now that he was alone every confused little synapse in his brain went into overdrive. Only the map and suitcase kept her from crumpling into a burbling mess; he clutched one in each hand as the drowning clutch rope, and by focusing on them managed to remain upright while making his way out of the station.
Once in the open street, however, she froze. All at once, it hit him that he wasn't home anymore. Coal from the trains had kept the air thick with smoke that, though thinner than he was used to, produced the comforting illusion of factory smog. Here in the main part of District Twelve, there was almost no hint of the familiar rough texture; the air was warmer than she was accustomed to, but smoother somehow, easier to breath. It was unnerving.
Furthermore, Dy had never in her life had cause to read a map, and the thing baffled her. The key may as well have been written in Latin, and for the life of him he couldn't figure out how something she could step on was supposed to be able to guide her across an entire town.
For lack of any better ideas, he decided to just start wandering. With no goal in mind, though, he had no way to figure out whether she was on the right track, and never noticed as she meandered further and further from her target. Because he wasn't expecting anything in particular, nothing cued her off to being in the wrong place. From the main square straight through the outskirts of the District, everything seemed just as strange and scary and possibly-correct as everything else. Even as he wandered through a broken fence and into the forest, and started to feel like something was probably going wrong here, she didn't really give it any thought.
He didn't, in fact, allow himself to wonder if he'd gone the wrong way until well into the afternoon, when she found herself standing in front of some all-too-familiar (although not smoking, as she was used to seeing them) ruins. He glanced behind him, but all she found the vast expanse of forest she'd just emerged from, and the map didn't seem to say anything about trees.
Completely clueless as to where she had come from and how to get back there, Dy pulled out her needles and began unraveling the scarf that wasn't really anything like a scarf. It wouldn't really get her anywhere, but she could (and did) continue to walk as he worked, so it was better than sitting down and crying.
Maybe there would be another train station around here. Probably not- but a homesick boy could hope, couldn't she?
