apocalypsehowcomm | LOG - July Catch-All/TDM Prompts (OPEN)

Neal is more than glad to leave his shift on patrol behind. He's never been a nature guy--give him a big city any day of the week--so Dogtown in and of itself isn't his preferred hangout spot. At to that the clearly escalated weirdness that must have taken place while they were in Wolf Pen and it's somewhere Neal really does not, in fact, want to be.

The silent birds don't help. They really don't help when they start talking to each other just out of sight.

Neal has trouble keeping up a facade of casual friendliness when he's back in Gloucester proper. Every twitter, every burst of noise as pigeons take flight, is another reminder that the animals are all around him. He doesn't have a problem with birds normally, but now he can't shake the feeling that there's something wrong with them. Something watching through them. Something wrong with him, maybe, even.

The feeling is pervasive, and after every Dogtown shift, it gets worse and lasts longer.

Whether you come across him during a shared shift or elsewhere, his usual easy smile and friendly greeting are nowhere to be found. If he usually brings you coffee or snacks or asks how you're doing, well. He hasn't in a little while. What's with that? And why is he watching you that way?

Edited 2022-07-02 21:12 (UTC)

George has been working a fence construction shift ever since their return. He'd be lying if he said the weirdness of the birds didn't have him squirrely as a bird dog in winter. Having the steady, repetitive work helps, though, as does knowing not everyone on the construction crew knows what the people employed by ADI know. He has gotten good at putting a normal face on the abnormal and pretending he doesn't see what's obvious. That they're all being watched. That the birds are connected to each other in ways they shouldn't be.

Isn't it likely it's payback? Or the beginning of it?

When he has called out twice to Neal and received no response, he pats the shoulder of his post digging partner. "I'll be back in a few," he says.

Gloved thumbs hooked in his pockets, he approaches in his construction gear and an ADI ballcap. "Neal? You awwright?"

Neal flinches away from George in surprise. Catches himself, forces a breathy laugh. It doesn’t sound convincing even to him.

“Yeah, I’m fine. Wondering what we’re walling off, wondering if it might be better not to ask.”

He stops a bit more distant from him than he normally would. That squirrely body language tells him enough, and he's sensitive to these sorts of things from his life back home. Knowing when to give a man space. Knowing how to keep tensions low when he can. Or as low as possible under the circumstances.

"Yeah, I ain't sure myself," he says, rubbing a work glove at the back of his neck. "Been noticing the birds actin' weird."

Said birds are present in numbers at the tree line, clustered in the branches and watching both of them. Listening. He feels the pressure of it, mouth pressing a firm line. "Bastards."

Neal lets out a noise of relief when George mentions the birds. He glances at them, or starts to, then stops himself and looks at George instead. Like if he acknowledges their watchers, something might happen. And it might. Who knows.

"So it's not just me. They're actually doing that."

"Nah, it ain't jes' you. It's one reason I put in to work the fence. Some a' these fellas are jes' contractors." He glances over his shoulder to make sure no workers are also in distance to eavesdrop.

"Wanted to keep an eye out for 'em while trying to get more pictures and footage." He's gotten pretty decent at the phone, even if he doesn't like it all that much. It's a tool like any other. "It's been real weird." Hard not to lose himself to too much paranoia, especially when the birds in town seem to be acting off, too.

"What brung you out this way?"

Neal nods, appreciating George's instincts and willingness to be out here for others. He drags in a breath and sighs. "I'm with the security team. I've been doing shifts on patrol."

A pause, and then he adds more of the truth. Malcolm has been rubbing off on him. "I'm not on duty right now though. I just... I keep feeling like they're talking about us behind our backs, and I want to catch them at it. See if I can record it."

He notices the clarification, a bit of an appreciative flicker in his quick eyes. He always prefers honesty. "I get that. I mean...I been feelin' a similar way about 'em. Can't tell if that's 'cause we got good instincts, and they is, or if it's more a' them mind tricks."

He pulls a kerchief out of his back pocket to wipe his face. He's been out in the sun a while now. "Trouble is, them little bastiches can always see you comin'. They got that high ground." He's not sure how they could surprise them, because there are plenty of night birds that can see in the dark just fine, too.

"Wonder if we can catch one." Would it act different? Would it be unsafe to bring it inside?

Neal eyes the animals in the trees, shivering a little. "It could be worth trying..."

There's a part of him that wonders if the rest wouldn't swoop down and mob them if they managed to get their hands one one. "Have you ever trapped birds before? I wouldn't have any idea where to start."

"Yeah, few different ways you can do it. Netting's prob'ly the easiest. Assumin' they ain't smart enough to avoid flying into it." He suddenly gets the idea he shouldn't say more, like if they overhear him, then they'll avoid all the traps. His lips firm a line.

"Let's talk more about that back at ADI later," he adds with a quick glance up and to the side. "You want to walk a ways? I got a few more minutes before I gotta get back to it. If not I can catch you in the cafeteria, or you and Mal can come over later."

Neal nods, having the same thought at almost the same moment. "Yeah. Yes, I mean, to both."

He tilts his head away from the wall and the birds--at least the ones most easily spottable--and starts walking at a pace that's easy to match. He smiles a little. "I'd like to come over though. It's important to stay in touch here."

A pause, slightly more of a smile. "I think you're the only person I've met who calls Malcolm 'Mal.'"

He's glad they're on the same page. It's easy enough to let the uneasy topic go for now, especially when they can't act on it in the moment anyway. "It is. Way too easy to get buried in work." It was different living in a bunkhouse. No matter what he worked on during the day, he and the fellas would always catch up in the evenings. The camaraderie was easier but also lower stakes. Friends or foes for a season, and then they'd drift away again, like clumped leaves driven by a high wind.

"Yeah? Jes' comes naturally, I guess." He's not sure why. He's not prone to nicknaming most people.

Jon is intimately familiar with being watched. It had been a presence for years, growing from just during the times he was recording a statement, to something inside his head, that door holding back the ocean. And then of course the world had ended and the Eye saw everything all of the time, and he did too. Mostly.

The birds staring are still eerie. Birds aren't supposed to stare like that. But Jon also recognises that feeling, the prickle at the back of neck, the intense feeling of being watched as he patrols the edges of Dogtown.

"Oh fuck off," he mutters as he turns a corner, not particularly paying attention. "If you want something then actually tell me."

He knows it doesn't work like that, not really. The Eye knows everything, but doesn't understand anything.

Neal is heading the opposite direction, but he's close enough to catch the words as Jon turns the corner. His stomach does an uneasy little somersault. "I can't decide if them starting to talk to us at this point would be better or worse."

It's not a joke.

Jon startles a little when the other man speaks, and gives a sheepish little smile. He should really watch himself, talking in public. People might get ideas.

"It wouldn't be the strangest thing, at least," Jon says. "I think some of it might depend how they speak."

Neal makes a noise of agreement at that. He studies the other man's face for a moment, trying to place him. He's been making a habit of learning names lately, whether he's met people or not. One of the benefits of mid-level security access.

"Jonathan Sims, right?" He offers his hand. "Neal Caffrey."

Jon looks a little surprised at that. You'd think he would be used to being recognised by now, after being the VIP of the apocalypse. But not here.

He manages a small smile and shakes the offered hand. "Yes, that's me. I didn't realise I'd reached levels of notoriety."

Neal lifts one shoulder in a half-shrug. “I’ve been trying to make a point of knowing who’s around. Who’s like us.”

That last bit is said with a bleaker tone than he intends. Neal clears his throat. “The way people come and go, I like being able to tell if I haven’t seen someone in a while. And who they are.”

"Like us? People dragged in from other worlds, you mean?" Or something more sinister?

Or just people working for ADI?

"Ah, that does make sense. Hopefully they just end up where they were before." Does he believe that?

Absolutely not. Nothing with the entities is ever that kind.

"Yeah. Other worlds." Neal's brows twitch together a moment. What else would... Oh. "Are you... do you have magic? Or... something like it?"

He doesn't say anything at the hopefully. He'd like to believe that, too. He also absolutely doesn't. He does believe, forces himself to believe, that the people who have vanished can be found.

"No," Jon lies. Well, depends if you can call being bound to the Eye magic. "No magic. I just meant... people who know about the entities, the avatars and the like. It's a lot to take in."

“Oh. Yeah. Yeah, it is.” He looks up at the nearest half-finished barrier. “There was nothing like them in my world. Not that I knew about, anyway, and I’d been to a lot of strange places.”

"It seems like there are a few worlds like that. Either without any kind of magic, or with it so deeply buried it's hard to find if you don't know exactly what you're looking for."

He wishes he'd never found the dubious magic in his own world.

"What about you? What's your flavor of reality?" He smiles a little crookedly at his own phrasing, but the smile fades again when he catches another set of watching birds.

"Oh you know, mundane for the most part. There are some supernatural things, artefacts mainly, but no magic, no werewolves or anything like that."

He glances towards the birds, narrows his eyes at them. Are they really going to try to out-stare him?

LOG - July Catch-All/TDM Prompts (OPEN)

➥ Birdswatching || OTA (TDM prompt - scopophobia; paranoia; unnatural animals)

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Re: ➥ Birdswatching || OTA (TDM prompt - scopophobia; paranoia; unnatural animals)

sorry for the delay on this!!

Re: sorry for the delay on this!!

again, sorry for the lag--I'm moving next week and in the last leg of preparation

No worries at all!

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