[OOC: Reminder that IC =/= OOC, Cadeyrn is an Acquired Taste of a character and I'm very aware of it, I promise I don't bite >__<. Let me know if he's being too rude! I'll make him slip away.]
♣[Isle of the Lost]♣
..:: I - Arrival::.. He'd been looking at reports, thumbing through numbers and figuring out his next best course of action, food shortages, the unease towards the north, where he'd heard far darker things lurked. Maybe the firelight had lulled him to sleep-- it's not unlikely. Cadeyrn despises when he falls to that kind of slumber, as he somewhat wakes up crooked and struggling to find his hands again, but he can't deny that it, sometimes, happens. Too much going on that he needs eyes on.
But when he opens his eyes again, it's not his office that greets him. It's not the lull of warmth in the fireplace, not the warm wood under his hand that bears the weight of his decisions. His pen is missing from his hand. Eyes narrow, silver-bright to thunder-dark as he glances around, and his nose scrunches in distaste at the smell.
Oh, oh, that's nasty. The trash and rot that surrounds him is not something Cadeyrn is accustomed to, and not something he ever wants to allow in his direct vicinity. Eyes flit from doomstone to doomstone, their grim tidings entirely unappreciated before he turns to the mausoleum. The skies are churning dark clouds overhead, and there is comfort that he is just a small handwave from calling lightning to his aid. A quick pinch assures him this is not a dream, and the raven-haired soldier is quick to take stock of what he can use.
He'll linger at the entrance, watching, pacing around the immediate area as he tries to find any threat that might linger nearby. Any asset that could help build a defensive position if they must. And any stock of food and comfort that, he is quick to note, are severely lacking at first glance. Clean water is going to be a hassle to find.
..:: II - Cleanup::.. He despises this place. It's not quite the cold hatred that he's always held, but it's close enough that the word still fits. The facilities are lacking, and dirty, with bits of trash churning up everywhere and if he has to kick one more unknown-unknowable thing that is half rotten in the middle of the hallway again, he's far more likely to cast lightning upon it.
Outwardly, he is calm, the slightest give of his mood the slight downturn to his eyebrows as he paces along the hallways, still taking note of what he can find that might be useful. Each door gets pushed out of his way as he checks in, looks for one, one bloody room that isn't better fit for a torture chamber than the 'classrooms' he's found. He manages, if barely.
One of the-- he guesses it would have been a science lab? The desks have been piled up in a corner, and the room is surrounded by a counter. The shelves above are deceptively empty of anything at all-- though bits of glass still litter the area. But it is cleanable. Above everything else, it is cleanable, and that is more than Cadeyrn had seen so far. He huffs, turns the water on from one of the sinks, and watches it burble in spazzy coughs before the flow turns regular.
He'll need rags. And something to boil water in. And a whole lot of patience.
Thankfully, he has a lot of the latter, and working always helps him settle his thoughts in order. A blessing in disguise, even if it's not one that he'd have wished for. He's quick to set himself to the task, gathering glass, and throwing it away, and wiping the counters. At least nothing seems to have up and died in this room.
..:: III - And an... interrogation?::.. "What's your name?" Silver eyes slide up and down over his companion as he notes anything at all he might learn from them at a glance. Hands, callouses, body position, expression. Anything at all that can help. They'll need some form of order, if only to look out for each other, and Cadeyrn needs to know their strengths if he wants to make sure they manage this. Their personalities. And their weakness if needs be.
He's still waiting for an answer, standing straight across from them, the hallways stretching on both sides of them. He gives them a wide berth, just in case, but they don't have the luxury to tiptoe around each other here. They'll need to cooperate if they want to have proper food, proper shelter. Safety. As much safety as Cadeyrn can offer in this paltry place.
Cadeyrn Blackthorn ♠ OC ♠ OTA
♣[Isle of the Lost]♣
..:: I - Arrival::..
He'd been looking at reports, thumbing through numbers and figuring out his next best course of action, food shortages, the unease towards the north, where he'd heard far darker things lurked. Maybe the firelight had lulled him to sleep-- it's not unlikely. Cadeyrn despises when he falls to that kind of slumber, as he somewhat wakes up crooked and struggling to find his hands again, but he can't deny that it, sometimes, happens. Too much going on that he needs eyes on.
But when he opens his eyes again, it's not his office that greets him. It's not the lull of warmth in the fireplace, not the warm wood under his hand that bears the weight of his decisions. His pen is missing from his hand. Eyes narrow, silver-bright to thunder-dark as he glances around, and his nose scrunches in distaste at the smell.
Oh, oh, that's nasty. The trash and rot that surrounds him is not something Cadeyrn is accustomed to, and not something he ever wants to allow in his direct vicinity. Eyes flit from doomstone to doomstone, their grim tidings entirely unappreciated before he turns to the mausoleum. The skies are churning dark clouds overhead, and there is comfort that he is just a small handwave from calling lightning to his aid. A quick pinch assures him this is not a dream, and the raven-haired soldier is quick to take stock of what he can use.
He'll linger at the entrance, watching, pacing around the immediate area as he tries to find any threat that might linger nearby. Any asset that could help build a defensive position if they must. And any stock of food and comfort that, he is quick to note, are severely lacking at first glance. Clean water is going to be a hassle to find.
..:: II - Cleanup::..
He despises this place. It's not quite the cold hatred that he's always held, but it's close enough that the word still fits. The facilities are lacking, and dirty, with bits of trash churning up everywhere and if he has to kick one more unknown-unknowable thing that is half rotten in the middle of the hallway again, he's far more likely to cast lightning upon it.
Outwardly, he is calm, the slightest give of his mood the slight downturn to his eyebrows as he paces along the hallways, still taking note of what he can find that might be useful. Each door gets pushed out of his way as he checks in, looks for one, one bloody room that isn't better fit for a torture chamber than the 'classrooms' he's found. He manages, if barely.
One of the-- he guesses it would have been a science lab? The desks have been piled up in a corner, and the room is surrounded by a counter. The shelves above are deceptively empty of anything at all-- though bits of glass still litter the area. But it is cleanable. Above everything else, it is cleanable, and that is more than Cadeyrn had seen so far. He huffs, turns the water on from one of the sinks, and watches it burble in spazzy coughs before the flow turns regular.
He'll need rags. And something to boil water in. And a whole lot of patience.
Thankfully, he has a lot of the latter, and working always helps him settle his thoughts in order. A blessing in disguise, even if it's not one that he'd have wished for. He's quick to set himself to the task, gathering glass, and throwing it away, and wiping the counters. At least nothing seems to have up and died in this room.
..:: III - And an... interrogation?::..
"What's your name?" Silver eyes slide up and down over his companion as he notes anything at all he might learn from them at a glance. Hands, callouses, body position, expression. Anything at all that can help. They'll need some form of order, if only to look out for each other, and Cadeyrn needs to know their strengths if he wants to make sure they manage this. Their personalities. And their weakness if needs be.
He's still waiting for an answer, standing straight across from them, the hallways stretching on both sides of them. He gives them a wide berth, just in case, but they don't have the luxury to tiptoe around each other here. They'll need to cooperate if they want to have proper food, proper shelter. Safety. As much safety as Cadeyrn can offer in this paltry place.