( OPEN )

[competing]

Who: lance (competing) & anyone!
What: catch-all for the first part of the october event
When: oct 1 - 15
Where: around
Warning(s): none at the moment! will update if necessary

market district | day of attack

[ he was along the outskirts of the market district when the explosion occurs, sidelined in his usual patrol by an overenthusiastic child regaling lance with his exploits during playtime of the previous day. one second laughing to the young child's uncanny imitation of his nanny, and the next lurching forward reflexively, protectively, when suddenly the ground shuddered and screams erupted in the air. tehro is already crying from his confusion, rushing out of lance's hold to crash into his mother's, who stood terrified nearby, eyes turned towards the sky. lance's gaze soon follows, feeling dread pool at the sight of a thick cloud of an unnatural purple waft into the air. he takes a second to swallow down his fear, before shouting for everyone around him to vacate the premises as quickly and calmly as they can. (spoilers: they only manage to do one of these things.)

he runs the opposite way, pace slowed by the throng of people eager to escape. by the time he gets to the scene, all he sees is chaos. ( 1 ) he rushes towards the nearest person on the ground, reaching out to help them back onto their feet. ]

Hey — I got you, I got you, it's alright—

[ ( 2 ) if you are one of the able-bodied, he might try to flag you down with a shout. ]

Over here! [ he's in the process of trying to lift a wooden stall that had overturned on its vendor. given his noodle body, he could definitely use some help... ]

around | days after

[ the next couple of days are kind of a blur. ridden with guilt, burdened by his dwindling confidence, lance winds up throwing himself into doing as much as he can for the people who lost the most that day. at any time during the day, you can find him doing any number of the following:

( 3 ) pushing around a wooden street cart, its sign and his wares changing from day to day. one day he could be selling produce from a local farmer, another day he could be selling questionable, ah, toys from another local business person. some days he might be accompanied by an npc (the vendor's bored child along for the ride, their grandparent out to make sure lance is marketing right, etc), but every single time he'll be out there, running that motormouth of his dry, trying to get everybody, anybody to stop and consider a purchase.

( 4 ) getting chewed out by a local, far too upset to realize he has long since stopped saying anything, and instead just stands there with his head lowered, nodding mutely to their angry accusations. this is all your fault, where were you, you should have been there, you think you can try to make up for it now, etc... he stands and listens to it all without protest. ]

shooting range/training yard | days after

[ he's stopped wearing the royal guard insignia. he's still dressed in all-black, though, but only really because it had wound up encompassing most of his attire anyway, but he hasn't actually been back near the barracks or the yard in some time. hasn't felt right, in all honesty.

but today he wanders close to the training yard, which bustles now with activity. everyone working double-time to try and find the culprits, probably, doing just about everything lance isn't — can't — which explains why he keeps his head low, avoiding any eyes.

he's got his rifle in his hands, but he doesn't seem intent on training with it. rather, it looks like he's trying to subtly turn it back in... ]

cyoa/notes

( if none of these prompts work for you, please feel free to work something else out with me! you can reach me at ellipses, PM this journal, or my plotting comment!

also, please let me know if you'd like to know about the RUMOR that lance overhears, and i can work it into our thread somehow! c: )

Comments

Aᴛᴛᴀᴄᴋ → 2!

[likethelight]

[ It doesn't even matter if Allen was the one Lance was trying to call out to or not (it probably wasn't), hearing someone call out and seeing them struggling to to pull rubble off what must a person trapped --

In the smoke of the explosion that's hard to sort out from the cloud that rose above the market moments before, it would seem like a shadow just melted straight from it as a ghost would, if a shadow could glow softly white. Eerily there when a second before he wasn't, a slender figure clad in a cloak of ethereal white that seems to wrap around him like a living thing, who bends to help lift the collapsed wood.

And who would seem to be losing glowing feathers as they stream off his cloak(?) in a tumble only to fade away into the air. Like it doesn't know what form to take;

cloth or wings. ]

Please be careful -- [ It's a bit strained, his voice, and young, even as his pale eyes flick to Lance's with a sober kind of steeled dread sympathy, hidden as they are behind a warped mask that hovers in front of his face. Like the calm of someone who's seen something like this too many times but is still a bit sickened. ]

The air... [ It's poisonous every instinct would scream, saying it looks like the toxic vapors from an akuma. But of course there are none, and yet a deadly cloud it looks anyway. Would Crown Clown even protect him then?

It doesn't mean, regardless of getting a response or not, he's not going to put his shoulder into it then and lift, though. Being slender means nothing with this one. ]

[competing]

[ by now, the threat of being infected by the airborne virus himself has long since passed, though you wouldn't think so, given how murky the air still looks, how thick it feels from the smoke and terror and tension. still, he has his own pseudo-mask wrapped around the lower half of his face — a scarf from one of the vendors whom he'd helped earlier, who'd shoved it into his hands as she ran from the scene, thanking him over her shoulder. it's a wonder allen heard him at all, from how muffled his voice had been, but he won't stop to think logistics now, only to spare a moment to meet the other boy's eyes gratefully, before throwing his shoulder into the effort.

with their combined strength (more allen's than lance's, to be honest; raw strength had never really been his forte), they managed to lift and shift the overturned stall, allowing the trapped vendor to scurry out from under it. the man stammers over his thanks, gripping both boys' hands in his gratitude, before he turns and rushes away, calling names at the top of his lungs, likely meaning to check in on his own friends and family.

breathing heavily, lance turns to allen, briefly grasping the boy's upper arm. ]

—thanks.

around: 4

[unprays]

Please, stop that!

[ her voice, weak and hoarse from all the coughing, still rings clear and loud enough to stop the stream of accusations coming from the older woman — Sansa walks to Lance's side, directing a cool, almost chilly gaze at the local woman who seems to be convinced Lance is the right person to listen to all her anger. ]

He has done nothing to harm you. If you wish to blame someone, why are you blaming the guards, who could not have stopped anything without knowing of it? Direct your blame where it belongs, to those who failed to discover this plot and stop it, those who didn't care enough about the people to see if there was a threat they should react to. The Royal Guard does what they can, out here to help people at the risk of getting sick?

You must see it is not them who should hear your anger, but those who have truly failed you. Failed us. [ for there is no denying that her complexion is ashy and pale, speaking of just how much this really has affected her. ]

[competing]

[ so withdrawn into himself as he had been, he doesn't even notice sansa's approach until she is already there, standing defiantly at his side. his surprise is visible, but minute — a faint lift of his brows, a parting around a silent question of his lips. he had not heard her words, not entirely, but the tone of them persists, echoing in his ears, already red from his scolding and shame.

before them, the harried woman stumbles and stammers. she had had more gumption when there was no fight, when he had just been a silent well for her to throw her frustrations and anger at. now that she meets resistance, she falters.

sansa, after all, is quite the forebearing presence, even in her sickly condition.

after a few futile grumblings, the woman simply turns and takes her leave. lance is left to stare after her, before his eyes fall to the ground once more. ]

Thanks, [ he says, voice a little rough from disuse. ] But it was alright... She was just upset.

[ and he can't quite say he disagreed. ]

3 + rumor!!

[adelphoi]

[ alisaie has always been a terrible patient, as her friends and family would readily attest, more than once her brother has threatened to tie her to her sickbed in the past to keep her there.

so this is not easy. not only is this no simple illness, but the city has been attacked, she should be working, she should be helping, and sitting still while all of this is unfolding is like literal torture. alisaie does what she can from home, keeping an eye on the network and reading as much as her fevered mind will allow, researching, listening, but mostly waiting, and she has never been very good at waiting.

being housebound is even worse. sometimes it feels as if the walls are closing in on her, so when she can - those times when the fever abates enough that she can think clearly and take more than ten steps without wanting to die, alisaie goes outside. she can't go far, considering she's being watched like a hawk, and honestly much as she wants to she knows that she shouldn't risk spreading this disease around, even if it isn't airborne. in short, everything is miserable.

but this afternoon is cool and sunny, and she's feeling well enough to take her book on medicinal herbs out onto the shared deck of her upper-floor apartment, sitting on the wooden boards with a blanket around her shoulders and her book open across her lap. the simple feel of the breeze on her face is a treatment in its own right.

when lance comes trundling down the lane with his cart, however, apparently desperate to sell anything at all, she closes her book and leans over the edge of the deck, peering down toward him. ]

Do you have anything cold?

[competing]

[ the weather these days has already begun to cool, but you wouldn't have thought so looking at lance right now. skin slick with sweat, jacket ignored and wrapped around his waist, he's definitely been at this for the better part of the day already. still, whatever exhaustion he might have felt by then is easily turned away in favor of a possible sell.

he's all bright eyes, bright smile when he tips his face up towards her, pausing just a few feet from the sidewalk that hugs her residence. ]

Cold? Heck yeah — I got a whole drawer full of stuff! [ he tugs one open, brandishing his wares with the other hand. ] What're you in the mood for? I got popsicles, ice cream cones, ice cream cups, some kinda soda thing, an ice pack, ice...

[ rather fortunate that the very store he seems to be trying to peddle for is an all-in-one-stop mart. ]

attack

[emblazes]

[It isn't long before the blast is known throughout the royal guard. When the information reaches his ears, it's like he's been punched in the stomach with a ton of bricks. Explosion, marketplace. Units from elsewhere needed on site. While there are plenty of lives to consider, the fact the he and Lance shared an almost-even shift today (not a big anomaly, but a #coolfact) is the first thing he thinks of. Lance is what he thinks of, and he can't make his way out of the Red Light District quicker (specifically, he's abandoning a supposedly-important taste-test panel re: new edible donger rings. No, he wasn't participating, this was just another thing he was roped into hearing about -- for the record. Place is slow during sunshiney hours...).

While making his way through the district, he retrieves his phone from a secret pocket of that catsuit of his. He doesn't pause to properly finger through the address book. Finding Lance's contact info's done as he charges along at full speed, very nearly getting run over 6 times in the process.

Ring a ding dong.]

Lance-?!

[competing]

[ he doesn't answer.

just seconds before keith began to dial, lance had finally arrived at the scene, his own path repeatedly impeded by the throng of people desperate to head the other way. in between attempting (and failing) to get the crowd to calmly and safely evacuate, and trying to get towards the scene himself, he hadn't even thought to check his phone. the ringing and vibration are lost to him, the chaos of the scene too overwhelming to allow his attention to spare. his eyes scan the crowd wildly, trying to look for anyone to help, all the while hoping he doesn't see anyone familiar... ]

4!!

[ruffboi]

[Well, he's only around because he's trying to hunt down a culprit. He doesn't have any leads, but he's hoping someone in the market, near the scene of the crime, might have seen something. Instead, he happens to see Lance, getting chewed out.

This isn't the kind of thing he'd usually get involved in, but he knows Lance, and he likes Lance, and he doesn't want to see him get blamed. So he goes over to try and intervene, putting on his best rustic charm.]

Aww, now, come on. Do you even know who you're talking to? Yeah, some of the guards are no good, but this kid is the cream of the crop.

[competing]

[ both the woman and lance turn to magnus with obvious surprise and confusion. the woman stammers, fumbling for an adequate response; she'd been on such a roll, she likely forgot that sometimes other people could actually say something back to her, and in that short delay, lance shifts slightly to face magnus, murmuring quietly under his breath, ]

It's okay — really.

[ he attempts a smile, small and somewhat self-deprecating, and the sight of it seems to remind the woman of her anger all over again. ]

If he was truly that good, then why did that attack happen? I saw him that day! He was just standing there!

Attack 1

[winddaughter]

[Her ears are ringing and she doesn't even remember why she's on the ground right away--pushed over by locals, people she knows and sees on a daily basis. She's holding the side of her head and wishing people would calm down and stop shouting, she just needs a minute, she just needs to breathe.

The hand is startling. On a good day she'd smack it out of her way, insist that she doesn't need anything, but it's the closest thing to a breath that she'll get so she takes it. Anemone's grip is strong. She pulls herself up as much as he pulls her and it works out easily for both of them, though she stumbles a bit and she's still holding her head with her other hand, trying to focus and pinpoint all the surrounding voices so it's not just one jumbled, painful mess in her mind.]

Ah--thanks-- [She drops his hand just as she's bumped again from the side, but she doesn't topple over.] What is happening?

[competing]

[ in his own frazzles state, he barely registers the grip of her hand; likely it will bruise later, and later he will wonder about it, but in this moment he is more focused on looking her over, eyes occasionally flicking towards her head where she holds it, worried for an injury he can't see. ]

There was — an explosion.

[ his words are vague, but carefully chosen. every nerve in his body screams at him that this was an attack, this is no accident, but without any concrete evidence or information, he's hesitant to say anything that would cause undue panic. ]

Can you walk? We need to get you looked over—

shooting range also rumor me, this already hurts

[punshots]

[ He hasn't spent much time near the barracks since the attack himself, for a multitude of reasons, some of them far too similar to Lance's own. For the sudden departure of his three dearest friends from home, Prompto has held it together pretty well - by necessity, of course, because doing anything less than stepping up right now would be a disservice to their memory. To everything the Crownsguard had stood for. To his king, Noctis.

Not that that's made it any easier to bear his failures, and it's only Alisaie's levelheadedness, her reassurances that kept him together after Victarion's attack. Now, with the bomb, she's become a victim of it, too - as if it wasn't personal enough already, being in the market district, an absolute kick to the gut. Gods, he still feels winded just thinking about it, about what they hadn't prevented, about his personal responsibility in all of this.

So he'd thrown himself into relief efforts and criminal chasing and checking on his friends that he's wearing himself so thin he's nearly threadbare, exhausted mentally and physically, but still, he presses on. How can he do anything else?

There's someone he needs to check up on, though, that he hasn't yet - at least, not in person. Prompto had made it a point to at least text Lance to check up on him these past few days. Just cursory things, to make sure he's still present enough to respond, because he knows the hell the other boy must be going through right now.

He knows it, because he's there himself.

Though he intended to make this the day he caught up with Lance and really sat down with him, face to face, to - talk or distract or throw darts or do whatever the hell he can to make things better - it's mere fortune that's brought the both of them near the training yard at the same time today. Prompto spots his friend before he spots him, and before Lance can put his rifle anywhere, Prompto approaches without a word, setting a gentle hand between Lance's shoulder blades to guide him out of the yard. Then, quiet but assured: ]

I got you, buddy.

[ He'll be at his side, as usual. ]

promptooooooooooo TAT

[competing]

[ lance doesn't know how long it's been since he last saw prompto. the past couple of days had been a blur, bleeding into one another in a flurry of expended energy and a frantic need to do something, anything. and though he'd been busy in his own right, if pushed, he might admit that he hadn't exactly gone out of his way to see the other boy again. even now, he cannot quite meet the other's eyes, worried for the disappointment he might see there...

or worse, an all-too-familiar look of shame. ]

Oh—

[ his feet stufter briefly along the ground, but they pivot easily at prompto's coaxing. the yard draws farther and farther away, but the rifle remains heavy in his hands. ]

Hey... [ he tries to smile, but it doesn't quite reach his eyes. ] Didn't see you there.

3-ish also rumour trading yes/yes

[insurgent]

[ in contrast to her typical minimalist appearance, jyn's usual satchel is overflowing with supplies. she clutches bags of miscellaneous items (soup cans, blankets, and the like) in her arms. she walks through the market at a slow pace, attempting not to drop her cargo. normally, she would make a brisk, backalley exit, avoiding people and quickly finding her way home, but the side streets are too narrow and uneven for her present balancing act.

recognising the voice attempting to sell her something or other, she eases to a stop. after a moment, she lifts her head and arches her brows in reply. ]

Lance. [ which encompasses hello, nice to see you in jyn-speak. ] I don't think I can carry anything else.

[ said more wryly than apologetically, of course. ]

y 8)c

[competing]

—Jyn?

[ he blinks a few times, and recognition finally dawns on him. ]

Oh — wow, I... [ he pauses, laughs a little sheepishly, and finally lowers the hand he'd raised to try and get her attention earlier. ] Sorry, I didn't even realize...

[ he rubs at the back of his neck, looking a little lost for a moment. truthfully, just moments earlier, he'd seemed almost mechanical in his attempts to flag her down. slowly, he starts to slip back into himself. ]

Are you doing your courier service right now...?

days after 4

[kissintime]

[ at this point, ermes is Tired.

since the day of the attack, she's been doing nothing on a daily basis but trying to hunt down associates, track the refugees who got involved, and get a lot of dead-ends. her body aches, she's maybe slept a few hours a night, and everyone is fucking high strung as hell. when this bullshit passes, she is going to get heavily plastered and sleep a whole day.

until then, she's on edge. and though she isn't the one being chewed out, she's in earshot of lance getting chewed out and watches the scene go on for a while. he's not doing anything and the other person is just going on and on and on and they are so noisy. it isn't that she's getting mad on his behalf, but more like the anger she's been feeling is starting to seep in to her bones and even small shit like this... it's bullshit.

her judgment gets her moving in a stomp to the two, and once in distance she roughly shoves the person who has been chewing out lance. ]

Hey, how about you stop complaining and do something yourself, you goddamn prick!

[competing]

[ the man she shoves back staggers, pausing only when his shoulder connects with a nearby wall. both man and lance turn to her in surprise, her approach completely unexpected. for a while, the man only stares, so used to his one-sided angry rant that being met with anger in return knocks him completely off his groove.

this allows for lance to finally speak up, but his voice is quiet, cautious. ]

Ermes. [ it's been a while since they last spoke, but there is a strange level of familiarity there despite it. both his hands have come up, and he's shifted in a way that begins to put himself between her and the other man. ]

It's okay...

attack: 2.

[illuminating]

[From tending to some minor injuries on a native, she hears him—ear flying back to the pull of his voice first, and then the rest of her following, racing toward him. She skids to a halt, watching him struggle to lift stall on his own. There's no time for hesitating, and although it might cause some alarm, she straightens from her short, observing distance, and cleaves the stall in half so it splits in two and collapses on either side of the person pinned.

There is no other indication that the stall will suddenly break in half beforehand. And sure, one could toss it up to the damage from the explosion, but the slice is so evenly split, as if some invisible blade descended out of heaven and cut into it like butter.

Unwavering and steady, keeping her own concerns in the pit of her stomach, she calmly begins moving closer to boy and vendor. There's acknowledging, appreciative glance to Lance, and then she's dipping down to the man on the ground, intent on seeking out any severe damage.]

[competing]

[ he had been calling for anyone, really, voice straining under his own waning strength. adrenaline could only take him so far, especially once panic had begun to settle in, and the vendor's cries and please were one of the only things he could hear ringing in his ears.

of course he'd heard of stories before where mothers somehow found the strength to lift entire cars off their children in times of duress, and while he wouldn't doubt his own mother could summon such strength to save any of her own children, he doesn't think he himself could have ever actually managed to break the stall on his own, despite how desperately he had wanted to help this vendor. so when it falls away under his hold, he can only stare in mute surprise for a couple of seconds, before the vendor's frantic cries of relief drag him back to the present.

he is not injured, and actually ignores amaterasu completely in his relief and gratefulness. the vendor reaches for lance instead, pulling himself up while the boy barely manages to keep standing. he keeps pouring thanks after thanks his way, even dropping kisses all over his cheeks (wet from his tears) before dashing off for a safer spot, leaving lance still stunned and standing.

it's only then that lance notices amaterasu, and though he still looks uncertain, there is a pull between his brows that begins to suspect. ]

...Lassie?

Attack - 2 | Okay to make our TDM game canon?

[bentbloodline]

[Fortunately, there is a water fountain nearby and that makes Tarrlok's task of helping with the stall on the vendor much easier. The way he moves his arms as he guides the water is smooth and fluid, and for the moment, it's like the water is coiling around the stall like a snake.

It's in this manner that Tarrlok is able to lift the stall off of the vendor and set it down just off to the side. The water is promptly returned to the fountain as Tarrlok kneels down beside the vendor and glances over to Lance inquiringly.]

Do you know first aid? I'm afraid I never learned much about medicine or healing.

yes of course! c:

[competing]

[ he's awestruck as he watches the older man work, silent and frankly a little nervous, not entirely sure what to expect of those water coils, yet he doesn't step away from the stall until the vendor manages to crawl out. vaguely, lance wonders if this brand of... magic... is anything at all like juvia's, but it is a dim thought that he'll come back to later, he's sure, once he's made sure the vendor is okay. ]

Um — no, not really.

[ fortunately, there is a small triage being set up by some local healers and doctors. lance points towards them. ]

We can take him there, though—

4.

[rememberher]

[ Sometimes it feels like this place has completely changed. What was once a colorful, bright city, now felt heavy. Like the diseased fog never left, still hanging in the air and making everything feel wrong.

It's not something she's used to. Unrest, yes. But something like this, a feeling that seeps soul-deep, and turns everything pitch black? She isn't sure how to confront it; this isn't the same sort of darkness that she's used to confronting.

But hearing someone berating what appears to be another refugee, then, after getting closer, realizing that it's someone she knows, the small blond takes a breath, steeling herself— ]

Oh, there you are! I was looking all over for you!

[ Before walking toward Lance, a smile as bright as daylight spread across her face. Even as the woman who was berating him redirects her attention to the both of them, Lux doesn't stop, taking his elbow with a gloved hand. ]

I'm sorry, I need to borrow him for something. I'm sure you won't mind.

[ You can find someone else to redirect your anger toward, is what she would like to say, but holds herself back. Acting like that won't help anyone, and considering how he looked, it would be best to get L #2 out of here. ]

[competing]

[ her voice draws him out of the thick fog that had settled over him throughout the woman's rant. he had listened as well as he could, but after the first five minutes, he found himself withdrawing further into himself out of pure self-preservation. so by the time lux arrives, drawing him away with his elbow, he looks somewhat dazed. confused. it takes him a moment to even recognize her. ]

—Lux?

[ he follows her lead like a lost child, glancing between her and the woman who stutters her indignation. fortunately for them both, she does not follow after. ]

What're you doing here?

Attack 2

[fisherwife]

[Destruction and the injured? Of course Mipha is right in the fray, flitting this way and that to help wherever she can.

Lance's shout has her turning mid-stride with unnatural grace as she abruptly changes directions. She doesn't even register that it's Lance until she's upon him, grabbing at the stall.]

We can do this together. [Reassuring and calm as she helps him haul it off.] If he's injured, I'll heal him.

[The vendor seems to be unconscious though and probably wouldn't be able to fill Mipha in on injuries as it was. She'll probably heal him anyway just in case.]

[competing]

[ her calm is a nice balm to his frazzled nerves, helping to give him that much more reassurance. he nods as their eyes meet, and together they're able to lift the wooden stall from the unconscious vendor. he doesn't look in too rough a shape, but it's hard to tell what's going on inside, or even beneath his clothing. plus, all the chaos that persists around them doesn't exactly make for the easiest environment to really assess anything in.

once he's free, lance drops down to a knee, passing a hand over his forehead. ]

Sir...? [ gently patting his cheek. ] Sir, can you hear me?

[ he looks up at mipha. ] He's breathing, at least.

days after, 4.

[atwo]

[ a2 has been minding her own business, mostly running around and gathering items in preparation for a possible move. whenever there was shouting or yelling, people crying or just letting out their frustrations one way or another, she ignored them. it was easy to do so by turning down her hearing.

until her eyes glanced over someone familiar. it looked as if lance is in trouble and while they're not friends, she doesn't like the way he's being treated. she supposes this is just how people are.

and to think she is supposed to protect them. with a crate in her arms, she wonders over to where lance and the local is and shoves the crate in his arms. ] I think it is time for you to come with me.

[competing]

[ he had been half-paying attention as it is, so to suddenly be approached and have a crate (which is way heavier than a2 had made it look omg) shoved into his arms has him rattling in his spot. he gapes at her, just as the local across him does. ]

Excuse me? [ the man looks both indignant and cautious. slight as a2 is, there is a certain... air about her that definitely implies it'd be a bad idea to mess with her.

lance, for his part, can only stare at her dumbly. ]

Huh?

option 3

[agradecido]

[Despite the continued danger, Zevran's out again in the market. He's run into a metaphorical wall with regards to his own investigation, so he's essentially here to snoop. He's friendly enough that people let things slip, but so far, he has no leads, and he's run out of associates to track. Idly, he wonders if maybe he's been spotted by the Shady Man's people and they've been given orders to avoid him. He's got one of those faces, after all. Easy to spot. It's paranoid, but in his profession, those who weren't at least a little bit paranoid didn't tend to live long.

Well, former profession. You can take the boy out of the Crows, etc. etc.

Of course, he wasn't expecting to run into Lance like this, hawking wares of questionable quality out of a cart in the street. It makes him pull up short, head tilting to the side as he tried to make sense of what he was seeing. Eventually, he can't help but approach.]

Good morning, Lance, how have you been?

[Indicating the cart with a nod, he continues.]

Moonlighting?

[competing]

[ the morning has just begun but lance already looks like he's been out here for hours. already sweaty, winded, but he still perks up upon seeing someone approach. ]

Hey, Zevran! Just doing what I can, you know... [ there is a faint strain to his smile, but he laughs it off, eagerly gesturing to his cart. ]

Can I interest you in an all-in-one tupperware set today? Keeps the cold cold and the warm warm!

training yard

[vacuum]

[ Everyone's out on the search for that culprit, and Chuuya's no different. Talking to some people on the street has led him here, to the training yard, where apparently he'll be able to hear more rumors about what's going on. It's a real stretch, but he's actually not too great at detective work (capturing the bandits when they're physically in front of him shouldn't be a problem; but finding them?), so he'll take anything he can find.

So far, he isn't any closer to finding those culprits than he was when he first started. He would be leaving the shooting range if not for that familiar face he spots at the side. There's definitely something different about Lance today, though. He seems a lot less ... energetic.

Walking over, he knocks the younger guy at the back of his head, trying to get his attention. ] Hey. What're you staring at your rifle for?

[competing]

[ lance would have barely registered the knock on his head if his body hadn't actually pitched forward slightly. he seems to really only notice chuuya when he speaks, but even then he sort of turns to the other man in a bit of a daze. ]

—huh?

p it takes a moment for his mind to sort of add things up, but when he does, he starts looking around in confusion. ]

Chuuya... what're you doing here?