taxonomites | 10: [location] bare your faces of the veil

The change of weather and the coming of April brought a few things to the forefront of Cain's mind. One day, while losing himself in the mundane murmur of household chores, he realized it had been close to six months since he first found himself trapped in this hole in the ground.

Six months in this monstrous metro-city, and he'd succumbed to the same apathy that he at first had accused his two dearest friends of.

Six months, and what had he done to find a way out?

What had he done to set things right?

Nothing. One big, fat, glaring nothing at all. He's given in to the grind of depression, to the oppressive lack of wanting anything to do with life, and the resignation that he doesn't have what it takes to end it once and for all (whatever it is, be it strength or weakness, guts or the lack of them).

What's more, if he's been here six months, it's ten months since Adora set out for the cottage beyond the white elm with their son, hoping against hope for a fresh start.

He realized he had no idea what she had done in the years before, when he was gone. He didn't know how she'd coped, what she'd had to sacrifice in order to feed her family.

Ten months, and sometime during the following four, she'd been murdered.

He realized, with chilling clarity, that he had no idea when his wife had died. He could live without knowing what had happened, because he knew it couldn't be as bad as his mind insisted in vivid, broad strokes of imaginary paint. He could live, not knowing how. He just wasn't so sure he could cope, not knowing when.

So, against better judgment, knowing full well he shared this prison with creatures who supposedly went around feeding on the blood of mortals, Cain once more took to walking the streets in the dead of night. The claustrophobia reared its ugly face one night too many, forcing him out into the deceptively open air - and if he had to choose between potentially infected, homicidal Extras and the walls of his rooms caving in, he'd take the Extras any day.

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There was a café not far from the Hyperion, and between sitting in his rooms and experiencing the draft and sitting at a table with a pot of tea and a book, Long preferred the latter-- even if the fine sport of people-watching was somewhat less than thrilling in Taxon, where most of the people weren't people at all, and were very dull to watch after the first few minutes.

Still, an occasional real person wandered by-- this one as he'd prepared to pack it up for the night and head home-- and Long glanced up at the purposeful stride before recognizing the fellow.

"Ah, Officer Cain, good evening," he called.

Cain looked up, borderline startled by the sudden greeting. So far lost in his thoughts, he hadn't expected to find anyone else out and about at this time of night.

Nevertheless, he'd come to enjoy Long's company in the time they'd been acquainted. "Evening," he said, walking closer.

Long had a small stack of books which he was transferring into a leather satchel.

"Late for a walk," he said to Cain with a smile, overlooking the fact that it was late for him to be out here as well-- the cafe had closed some time ago, but he had been lost in his book until the night's chill began to be felt.

"Yeah, I suppose so," he replied, looking the books over and drawing his own conclusions. Time flies when you have good beverages and good books keeping you company, or so he was given to understand.

"Good thing you have a friend to walk you home, then."

Flaunting the good, ol'-fashioned hypocrisy of willy-nilly risking your own safety, but not that of your friends.

Long smiled with private amusement but did not disdain the offer, bowing slightly towards Cain. "A good thing," he answered agreeably, and shouldered the satchel. His teapot he hesitated with-- etiquette suggested he return it to within the shop-- but the shop was closed and dark, so Long shrugged and set the cup and pot back down on the patio table.

"After all, there are perhaps all manner of awful men out and about tonight." He stepped out of the little patio area, stood next to Cain, took a deep breath of the foggy night air.

"The weather has taken a decided turn for the San Franciscan," he said, tucking a woolen scarf around his chin. "I can't say I entirely approve."

"I wouldn't know about the weather. I just know it makes my bones ache, and I might as well walk it off."

Which was only partially true; it was more his mind than his body that craved the outdoors and its deceptively open air.

"Shall we?"

"Taking refuge from the fog through exercise," Long said thoughtfully, as he started to walk, one hand resting atop his book-bag. "I suppose that is one method. For myself a well-insulated room, the teapot hot and whistling, a fire on the grate...." He sighed, a happy little contented noise just at the thought.

"...although at the moment my rooms are none too insulated."

For a moment, upbringing warred with experience as Cain debated whether or not he should extend another courtesy. "I'm sorry to hear that. I was under the impression buildings had a tendency of repairing themselves."

Not that glitched buildings can't happen just because he hasn't heard of anything to that end, so far. It's just one more piece of bad news in a really long string of bad.

"Let's hope the weather improves."

"Do they really?" Long said, intrigued by that. "How fascinating. Perhaps mine stays in this condition as it was a result of a glitch in the first place?"

He shrugged slightly, a little gesture to say it did not concern him past a superficial level.

"In any case I enjoy being out, doing, how shall we say-- people-watching? But the automatons are dull to watch."

10: [location] bare your faces of the veil

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i swear I thought i tagged this, rargh

I do that all the time, no worries <3

Re: I do that all the time, no worries <3

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