Nicholas D Wolfwood (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
louboutinjudas) wrote in ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png)
nomans_land2023-06-08 09:07 am
louboutinjudas) wrote in nomans_land2023-06-08 09:07 am
Somewhere between July and December
1.
[ It wasn't the fastest car he'd ever driven, but it made better time than the old man's shitty station wagon had, and it was definitely faster than walking across the desert. None of the maps he'd found tucked under the seat had Hopeland on them, which was worrisome as all hell, but on one of the maps there was an orphanage marked, just off of a city called December.
The ghost he'd talked to on that mountaintop had told him he'd die in December, but that ghost had also ruined his last cigarette, so fuck that guy. If he died, he died, but first, he was going to make sure Miss Melanie and the kids were okay.
The sedan hums its way across the desert, kicking up a dust cloud that can be seen for miles. ]
2.
[ With a shudder and a hard jolt, the car comes screeching to a halt, the dash going dead as the engine seizes up. Wolfwood swears, punches the dash, then swears again when the solid dash nearly breaks his hand for his trouble. He'd managed to get the car hotwired, but apparently cars in this messed up version of Noman's were more different from the ones he knew than he'd realized. Is it out of oil? Out of charge? Not like he can do anything about it, whatever the problem.
Please ignore the man in black, standing next to a very dead car in the middle of absolute nowhere and screaming at the sky. It's therapeutic profanity, and it really is helping. ]
3.
[ Sunburned and exhausted, Wolfwood crests the hill and finally, there before him, sees the building that his map identifies as the December Orphanage. Even from a distance it's clear that the chaos that's affected the rest of the planet hit here, too -- there's clear bullet holes in at least one side of the building, walls that have collapsed, and the whole place seems as deserted as everywhere else he's been.
But he's here now, so he might as well have a look around.
He really wishes he still had his Punisher, though. ]
[ It wasn't the fastest car he'd ever driven, but it made better time than the old man's shitty station wagon had, and it was definitely faster than walking across the desert. None of the maps he'd found tucked under the seat had Hopeland on them, which was worrisome as all hell, but on one of the maps there was an orphanage marked, just off of a city called December.
The ghost he'd talked to on that mountaintop had told him he'd die in December, but that ghost had also ruined his last cigarette, so fuck that guy. If he died, he died, but first, he was going to make sure Miss Melanie and the kids were okay.
The sedan hums its way across the desert, kicking up a dust cloud that can be seen for miles. ]
2.
[ With a shudder and a hard jolt, the car comes screeching to a halt, the dash going dead as the engine seizes up. Wolfwood swears, punches the dash, then swears again when the solid dash nearly breaks his hand for his trouble. He'd managed to get the car hotwired, but apparently cars in this messed up version of Noman's were more different from the ones he knew than he'd realized. Is it out of oil? Out of charge? Not like he can do anything about it, whatever the problem.
Please ignore the man in black, standing next to a very dead car in the middle of absolute nowhere and screaming at the sky. It's therapeutic profanity, and it really is helping. ]
3.
[ Sunburned and exhausted, Wolfwood crests the hill and finally, there before him, sees the building that his map identifies as the December Orphanage. Even from a distance it's clear that the chaos that's affected the rest of the planet hit here, too -- there's clear bullet holes in at least one side of the building, walls that have collapsed, and the whole place seems as deserted as everywhere else he's been.
But he's here now, so he might as well have a look around.
He really wishes he still had his Punisher, though. ]
no subject
This, right here? This is what friendship does to you. This is what caring about people does. It makes you weak, makes you vulnerable, puts you at the mercy of people who don't have a drop of love in them. Too old and tired, yeah, he hears that lesson, and trust that he's learned it.
He needs Needles here with him still. He needs the man's gun, more precisely, and they're a package deal. He needs the man's supplies too, since he's doing inventory -- if Stampede's right, and they've been heading toward December instead of anywhere closer, then the water he's got on him won't be enough. The only way he's getting out of this sand pit alive is with a miracle, or with this asshole here.
He is really, really starting to hate this version of the world.
Wolfwood glowers at Stampede for a long moment, considering all his options -- such as they are -- before giving in with a shake of his head. ]
Octovern's southeast from here?
[ I'm fine if you don't want to be my friend. This fucking guy. ]
no subject
At the very least, it was enough to make him release a slow, quiet breath he'd been holding as he waited for the next snarled retort. His head bobbed in the affirmative and he grunted out a wordless answer, relaxing in fits and starts.]
Octovern's southeast, December is that way. [He gestured in the direction they'd been heading before his hands returned to the unconsciously-defensive curl they'd previous taken in front of his chest.] December is maybe a dozen or so iles closer, but there'd be no guarantee we'd find the supplies needed to restock when we got there, and continuing on to Octovern after stopping there would almost double the distance in the end. It's up to you.
[He let the information linger in the air for a breath before having to pull his gaze away, and he took the moment to try and center himself, at which point he finally seemed to realize he'd been holding the old lighter in his hand all this time. He grunted quietly to himself in mild surprise, patting down his breast pocket before tucking the thing back in its proper place and patting it down again just to reassure himself that it was safe and secure where it belonged.
And then, there wasn't anything left to distract him again, so he sighed, stuffing his free hand into the pocket on his hip, and looked back up at Wolfwood expectantly.]