destinationman

[destinationman]

[destinationman]

laneluthorblog​:

“I think that’s a fair assumption.” Lane leaned in conspiratorially. “And I’ll keep my silence. A dismissive eyeroll can be the most painful stab to the heart of all.”

She settled back in her seat, crossing a leg over one knee with her coffee perfectly balanced, just like she had back on her bench. There wasn’t much yet happening, but even so: the first move was critical.

“Have you been inviting strangers for checkers games long?”

She slid a piece forward.

“Depends on what you mean by long. Or if the pauses count. I only do it when I have the time, which isn’t always the case.” Russell slid his own piece. “So lucky you.” His words were accompanied by a friendly, teasing smile.

“And how about you? Are you braving an interaction with a stranger, or are you the outgoing type? I’ve had some of the best conversations with people who mostly insist on keeping to themselves, you know...”

[destinationman]

laneluthorblog​:

“Mm, fair point. Even so, fanatics tend to do as fanatics do, and it isn’t as if we’re short for any tournaments in the city…” Lane realized her cup was turning in her hands. She stopped.

“I do,” she said, taking the invitation for what it was, sliding into the seat, and tucking the corners of her blazer back and away from the table. Her latte was propped on a knee. “Though not in some time.”

She eyed the pieces. They were well worn, the spiked edges having been filed down from use, but still vivid red and black and clearly kept taken care of, the same as his shirt, up close, had a softness to it that only came with many washes, but was likewise still bright and worn nearly. She had the sense most of his possessions would be much the same.

(Far different from her carelessness and the dinged equipment scattered across her apartment.)

“I’m Lane. Do you play often… ?” She let the question hang, waiting for his name.

“Well, I think it’s fair to assume you know the rules at least?” One eye crinkled as he winked.

“Russell,” he added. “And I play only as often as someone takes me up on my invitations.” He leaned in, voice hushed a little in mock gossip. “Less and less often these days, but don’t tell ‘the young people’ I was complaining about it.”

Then Russell leaned back. He was tickled a bit, that they seemed to be playing their hair colors - Lane with her vivid red and him with curly black (though really hers was orange and his dark brown, but it tickled him all the same). He slid one piece forward.

[destinationman]

laneluthorblog​:

Lane had taken mental notes of the park regulars’ habits over the course of her lunchtime visits. The white-haired man sat alone with the birds, the young person with octagonal glasses laid directly on the grass, facing the sky, for half an hour, and the man with kind eyes chatted.

He didn’t sit and play a solitary game of checkers. (Though the sight did have the side of her mouth twitching up. Did he plan to play by himself, moving from seat to seat?)

Lane sat, head slowly tilting to one side as she watched him set up the pieces out the corner of one eye. He didn’t seem to be looking for anyone, though his kind eyes had turned her way more than once as she sat (and had before, enough that she was sure they both recognized the other as a regular). Perhaps it was another of his conversation starters?

In the end, Lane was a curious, nosy creature, and one who that curiosity, in the end, got the better of her. 

She stood from her bench and made her way towards the table, slowly enough that she didn’t startle the man, but with enough direction in each step that her intentions should have been clear.

“I haven’t seen anyone actually play this board in ages,” was what she ended up saying. She glanced over the board and the methodically arranged pieces and took a slow sip of her coffee. “Will you mind having a spectator?”

Russell smiled to himself when she started to make her way over. And then he turned the smile to her, once she was within conversation distance. “Most folks don’t carry around the pieces for it. City can’t exactly put 24 tiny chains on their piece to keep them from disappearing.”

He looked toward the seat across from him and nodded. “You play?”

[destinationman]

laneluthorblog​:

People watching.

With the weather cooling down, Lane had begun taking more of her lunch breaks outside than she had previously. The leaves hadn’t started to turn yet, but they would, soon enough, and she found herself taking daily photos of the same tree, from the same bench, every day, where she spent the hour sitting still as a stone. In a month or two she’d have a slideshow of the progression of the season. She wasn’t sure what she’d do with it, but it, and observation of the other noontime regulars and visitors, was something to put her focus on.

Apart from the fact that she was no longer human.

… Again.

Lane supposed she ought to be more upset. But perhaps dying and coming back at all had been enough of a shock, like plunging into a winter ocean and being smacked by a frozen wave, that she’d acclimated to any other sudden changes.

Perhaps, too, she’d always been like this: ready to search out the unknown and learn every secret it had to offer. She, too, was an unknown now, and it turned what could have been a horrifying change, like those of any of her fledgling friends, into something to study. As far as she knew (as far as the Traveler had conveyed to her), she was something entirely new.

Lane sipped her latte and eyed a passerby from her perch, where she sat . Were they human? Would she become human again, if she could? How many of the others in this park were, and how many asked themselves the same questions?

Her blue eyes landed on an older man across the way. He’d caught her eye early on in her lunchtime visits, with his own kind-looking eyes and the cheerful smile he seemed to procure for everyone, from the white-collar secretaries and staffers stretching their legs for the first time in hours to the finches hopping around the grass searching out seeds leftover from the morning feedings. It was a smile that seemed to have everyone, even the most exhausted desk workers, perking up the slightest bit.

Hm. She glanced down to one of the birds puttering around in the grass near her and snapped a corner off one of her crackers for it.

Russell had noticed the redheaded young woman early on in her visits to the park. He saw a lot of people in his day to day life, but redheaded young women tended to stick in one’s memory quicker than others. Especially ones who were so consistent. If he came at the right time of day she’d be there, sitting alone on that bench.

The first day he’d actually thought she was waiting for someone... and admittedly thought maybe that was the case on the second day too. But no, she clearly chose to sit alone with her thoughts during her lunch breaks. Not unusual - a white-haired old man who parked himself next to the fountain every sunny day did the same, just him and the birds.

(He was a dentist, as it turned out, discovered when Russell had struck up conversation one day a month or so back.)

What did the redheaded young woman do though, that she was on lunch break from?

Russell wasn’t stupid, he knew approaching a young woman sitting alone to strike up conversation was not always the friendly gesture some people thought it to be. And maybe she wanted to sit on that bench and not have to talk to a danged person for an hour and he wouldn’t interrupt if that were the case.

But.

On the off chance that she was interested in conversation...

Well, she could make the choice if she wanted. But to set things up a little more smoothly, he leaned over to the public checkers table he was sitting next to (a chess table, more realistically, but he was never interested in chess) and pulled out a little bag of checker pieces he kept on hand for his trips to this park. Carefully (but audibly), he began methodically setting them up on the board.

[destinationman]

timeapoortenant​:

[Yeah, no problem! We gotta lot of fledgeling vampires around recently…might be a lot easier for em if they know they can have someone deliver what they need without havin to explain themselves t’butchers or navigate connections.] He turned onto the main road, snow tires grinding evenly across the icy asphalt.

[Eh…human tech is in the stage where it’s all growin an changin so fast. Hard t’keep up with sometimes.]

“I’ll say. I’m not so great at keeping up with tech. Some tech anyway. I can manage just fine, really, I think I’m...” He rubbed his chin. “...just a bit stubborn about it. But I think I’ve earned that.”

Russell turned his head and eyed the homes they passed on their way. “But yeah, blood’s easy enough to come by. Shame about the fledglings... I think, anyway. Those are usually... complicated matters, right? So anything I can do to make life easier on them...” He glanced back. “Crazy times we live in.”

[destinationman]

[destinationman]

timeapoortenant​:

[Mmm. Yeah…I lucked out, bein here so early but not havin any real uh. Dietary restrictions.] He twisted in his seat to check behind them as he backed the old pickup out of his driveway, maneuvering carefully around the plow-piled snow. [Reckon you gotta rely on word of mouth. But hey!] He added, putting the truck in gear and starting back towards where they’d left Russell’s van, [I gotta lot’a connections in the community. I can put the word out for ya, if you need it.] He glanced at Russell and gave a small grin and a shrug.

Russell leaned a bit so he could turn a little more toward Wil as he drove. “That so? I’ve actually had a few clients move lately and been keeping my ears peeled for more folks who need a helping hand. That commune’s a big one now but that’s more bigger, infrequent deliveries. If you’re willing to ask around a bit...”

He leaned back again. “I even tried making a website. Or, had a neighborhood kid set me up with one. But I never did much with it.” He shook his head and chuckled.

[destinationman]

timeapoortenant​:

Wil’s expression warmed immediately and he put his hands on his hips, as if to say, ‘well I’ll be!’. [Mighta been here longer’n me, then! But don’t beat yerself up–plenty of 90 year old humans don’t know anything about their own cars.] He gestured for Russell to follow him back outside, locking the door behind him and still smiling to himself.

[I take it the specialty goods in that van must be pretty unique then, huh?] He asked. It was obvious that he was already more relaxed around Russell–his posture, his gait, the way his brow was less pinched. [Didn’t know we had that kinda service in Maroa. Guess cus I can just eat whatever.] Wil unlocked his truck and waited for Russell to go around before climbing in and starting it up. The heat rattled loudly, but faithfully started up almost as soon as the engine turned over.

Russell’s own demeanor had improved a bit; not that he’d been too nervous before, but even knowing he wouldn’t have to be too evasive about things was a relief. “Unique and varied. Too many folks living on their own without a network around ‘em. By choice or otherwise. When you got a lot of one-of-a-kind folks around, you start running into some pretty interesting dietary needs.” He hopped up into the truck (with, admittedly, a little extra spring in his step) and settled in.  

“It’s not exactly easy to advertise though. Not if you’re trying to reach certain demographics.” Not that he wanted to get into the social politics of enforced secrecy right now. “Mostly word of mouth but, like I said... small networks. I will admit, though, I do have a few little old ladies who truly just need their bread and milk delivered. Can’t turn down a little old lady.”

[destinationman]

Ah. There it was. He took the bottle and beamed warmly. "Oh so you've got me beat then! I've been here," (accompanied by a small downward gesture - here in Maroa), "about 20 years, but I've been here," (a broader gesture - here on Earth), "coming up on seventy." This body itself had been here longer, admittedly, but that wasn't exactly a topic for polite conversation. If memories counted, he might actually have a few years on Wilmore...

"Still don't know how to take care of my own damn van though."

destinationman​:

Russell’s smile grew a bit warmer, then. He was still a little wary, just in case, but. “Part of why I stick around. Business is always booming around here.”

This was always a bit of a delicate dance, sometimes even more than it really needed to be… but he’d been wrong before, and he wasn’t one to put himself out on a limb if he could help it, these days. “…You live here long?”

Wil returned his grin, which then became just a little impish. Ah, fuck it. [Since the 90s. ‘Fore that, West Virginia, since, oh….the end of the first World War.] He reached out to hand Russell the bottle of engine oil, gaze twinkling if still appraising. 

[destinationman]

Russell’s smile grew a bit warmer, then. He was still a little wary, just in case, but. “Part of why I stick around. Business is always booming around here.”

This was always a bit of a delicate dance, sometimes even more than it really needed to be... but he'd been wrong before, and he wasn't one to put himself out on a limb if he could help it, these days. "...You live here long?"

timeapoortenant​:

[No problem! An hey, that’s not so bad. Means you got folks lookin out for ya, even if it’s cus of their groceries.] Wil tapped snow off of his boots before walking in, leaving the door open for Russel behind him.

His living room looked comfortable and lived-in, with some clutter indicating Wil hadn’t done a whole lot of tidying since the last meeting. At least he’d had the foresight to wash his dishes. 

[What kinda stuff d’you deliver?] He asked as he clumped through the living room towards the back door in the kitchen. Without realizing it, as he passed his cabinet of old sound equipment, several of the vintage devices flickered to life and then off again.

“It’s true. If I ever get lost I’ll have a whole search party out for me before half a day has passed.”  Russell followed along, doing his best to knock the snow off his own shoes, though he seemed more comfortable lingering in the area by the door than coming too far in. Even if Wilmore was clearly fine with a little snow getting tracked in onto the floors. He only moved further in when it was clear he’d need to if he didn’t want their conversation to be shouted halfway across the house. “Oh, groceries mainly, for folks who can’t get out of their houses much. And occasionally other essentials, like paper towels and whatnot.” He’d been taking a casual look through the things Wilmore had out in the open, sticking to curious not snoop-y, and the flickering caught his eye at the last moment. …Hm. “But I tend to focus on specialty items,” he added, as an afterthought.

[destinationman]

timeapoortenant​:

[No problem! An hey, that’s not so bad. Means you got folks lookin out for ya, even if it’s cus of their groceries.] Wil tapped snow off of his boots before walking in, leaving the door open for Russel behind him.

His living room looked comfortable and lived-in, with some clutter indicating Wil hadn’t done a whole lot of tidying since the last meeting. At least he’d had the foresight to wash his dishes. 

[What kinda stuff d’you deliver?] He asked as he clumped through the living room towards the back door in the kitchen. Without realizing it, as he passed his cabinet of old sound equipment, several of the vintage devices flickered to life and then off again.

“It’s true. If I ever get lost I’ll have a whole search party out for me before half a day has passed.”  Russell followed along, doing his best to knock the snow off his own shoes, though he seemed more comfortable lingering in the area by the door than coming too far in. Even if Wilmore was clearly fine with a little snow getting tracked in onto the floors. He only moved further in when it was clear he’d need to if he didn’t want their conversation to be shouted halfway across the house. “Oh, groceries mainly, for folks who can’t get out of their houses much. And occasionally other essentials, like paper towels and whatnot.” He’d been taking a casual look through the things Wilmore had out in the open, sticking to curious not snoop-y, and the flickering caught his eye at the last moment. ...Hm. “But I tend to focus on specialty items,” he added, as an afterthought.

[destinationman]

timeapoortenant​:

[Eh, maybe one day I’ll be the one broken down somewhere.] Wil grinned and shrugged, and then waved a hand to indicate Russell should follow him back the way he’d come.

True to his word, the walk was very short, only a couple of blocks. His keys jingled as he unlocked his front door—he clearly had more than was necessary for one person’s house, likely for storage units, businesses he made frequent repairs for, etc. Each with its own color coded rubber key cap.

He paused in the doorway and rubbed his neck sheepishly, peering back at Russell. [You’re more’n welcome to come in, if ya don’t feel like waitin around in the cold. I can make it quick, get the oil from the back. An if you still want coffee I can put some on.]

“I’ll come in, for the sake of some warmth, if you don’t mind. But uh... may have to pass on the coffee. Otherwise I’ll end up lingering. Caffeine makes me chatty, and a few of my customers are the sort to start peering nervously out the window if I’m not around at my usual time.” He rubbed his chin, thinking about his deliveries. “Though I suppose they’ll be doing that anyway, at this point.”

[destinationman]

timeapoortenant​:

Wil grinned at him and shrugged. [It’s no trouble. I can drive you back over…an if the thing still won’t start, I don’t mind helpin you drop off your deliveries. Uh, if you’re ok with gettin help from a complete stranger!] A slightly self-conscious laugh crackled out of his speaker and his eyes crinkled.

Wil closed the hood with a snap and gestured back the way he’d come. [Its only a couple blocks this way. You caught me right at the start of my walk!]

Truthfully Russell felt like this was far too much of an imposition already, but he knew how it went with kind strangers - putting up a fuss almost never worked. Lord knew he wouldn’t take no for an answer were their positions switched. So he relented.

“Perfectly okay. Not sure where I’d be without the occasional kindness of strangers. Just know I’ll be looking to make it up to you, one way or another.”

[destinationman]

timeapoortenant​:

[Sure thing! I’m Wilmore, by the way. Nice t’meet ya.] Wil grinned at the stranger and then stepped up to the engine, waving some smoke away with his hand and sniffing at it. 

[Smells like ya might just be outta coolant…hmmm.] He tugged a hanky out of his pocket and used it to shield his fingers from the hot engine, poking at the hose trailing from the old coolant tank. [Don’t look like the hose degraded…don’t see any leaks. Yeah, may just need some fluid.] He pulled back and regarded Russell with a searching look. [I don’t live too far from here…I can run an’ get some. Or if you wanna come with, I could get ya some coffee at least before you gotta head back t’work!] 

“Russell. Likewise, save for the circumstance.” He chuckled a bit awkwardly and stepped back to let him take a look at the engine.

When Wilmore looked back to him, Russell was running a hand through his hair, a slightly embarrassed look on his face. “Ah, sheesh. Of course it’d be something simple like that.” He shifted his weight between legs, then resolutely put his cap back on his head. “When I said I wasn’t mechanically minded, I meant it.” 

His shoulders slumped a little. “If it’s really not putting you out too much, I’d really appreciate it. I’m running grocery deliveries, and some of the old ladies get a little ornery if I’m too poky about it. I’ll come with, can even make it a one-way trip for yourself - I’m not about to make a kind stranger go running back and forth on my account...”

[destinationman]

timeapoortenant​:

It was a lucky day, because Wil was out for a walk. He didn’t really take that many walks these days–it seemed he was either always working, or worrying about all the madness going on in the community these days. Not much time for just being alone and away from those swirling thoughts. But now that it was proper cold he found himself gravitating outside more, without his truck, just walking until he wasn’t really thinking about much at all besides the smart of wind against his cheeks and the warmth of his hands shoved into his pockets.

This was how he passed Russell, blinking when he realized there was smoke billowing past him. At first he was inclined to keep going; no reason to assume the fellow didn’t have it under control. Most folks with such nice antique vehicles usually knew how to handle them. That is, until he heard his quiet, restrained swear. The utterance of someone who really didn’t need this today.

So he took a couple steps backwards, turned around, and tipped his cap. [Uh, howdy,] the speaker around his neck crackled. He offered Russell a crooked half-smile. [Looks like you’re havin some engine trouble. Need a hand?]

Russell looked up from the engine to the stranger, then to the stranger’s speaker, then back to the engine. Then back to the stranger again, with an embarrassed grin. “Pushed her a little too hard, I guess.” He waved his hat again through the smoke and stepped back a bit, so he wasn’t speaking to Wilmore through the haze (and tempting fate with a coughing fit).

“I’ll take any hand I can get, if you got the know-how.” He put his hands on his hips, and looked even more embarrassed. “I’m not very mechanically minded myself...” He gestured toward the engine and its smoking. “...As you can see.”

Delayed In Transit

Russell's van had been acting up.

Nothing too bad, but enough that if it wasn't the holiday season he would have gotten it looked at sooner. But, from what he knew of this old thing, it'd get him through a week or so just fine.

Except, it didn't. Apparently the engine was overheating, and he only just noticed in time to pull over to the side of the road before the damn thing started really smoking. Ah, shoot. Shoot shoot shoot.

He hopped out of the car hurried to open the hood, though he really didn't know much about what he was looking at. He did take off his cap and wave it around in an effort to dissipate some of the smoke. "Ah, hell."

[destinationman]

Delayed In Transit

Russell's van had been acting up.

Nothing too bad, but enough that if it wasn't the holiday season he would have gotten it looked at sooner. But, from what he knew of this old thing, it'd get him through a week or so just fine.

Except, it didn't. Apparently the engine was overheating, and he only just noticed in time to pull over to the side of the road before the damn thing started really smoking. Ah, shoot. Shoot shoot shoot.

He hopped out of the car hurried to open the hood, though he really didn't know much about what he was looking at. He did take off his cap and wave it around in an effort to dissipate some of the smoke. "Ah, hell."