thebrownacid | Random Encounters

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Random Encounters

[This is a casual rp starter for scenes with Jen Daring, the world's most harmless Malkavian Antitribu. It serves as a warmup spot for character ideas for the After Gehenna game.]

San Francisco was a fishing village now. Bay water lapped the bases of the surviving skyscrapers, so clear now you could see down to the shattered street. Some brave divers went for artifacts down there: jewelry, surviving tools, random items to decorate their chambers with and claim bragging rights just for surviving. An old hubcap could cost you your life now that the Farrallones and the Bay were wed in one stretch of water over the drowned city. Sharks--the main risk in the area and also the main livelihood. They might get a fisherman now and again, but most nights in the high village with its precarious catwalks, it was they who became dinner.

When the sun went down the fishing crews lowered ropes down the side of the buildings and hauled up the boats along with their catch. The hard, ugly end-of-the-day work was necessary, for one breed of shark hunted at night and could take out even the few old yachts they had left.

The grunts and creaks of the ropes and thunk and scrape of the rising boats were the first thing Jen heard when she woke that night. She opened the closet she was curled up in and spilled out, yawning hugely. The outer wall of the hotel room she was squatting in had shattered outward, and a huge, battle-scarred gray cat crouched among the bricks, messily dining on a pigeon the size of a football. He looked up at her with his one good eye and meowed conversationally.

Within half an hour they had both eaten, and Jen was sitting quietly on the edge of the cracked rooftop plaza of the hotel. Other villagers, human and otherwise, milled on the rooftop by torchlight, enjoying a barbecue out in the cool night air. The cat sat next to her, keeping watch. Jen was a little unfocused, distracted by the blobs of golden and royal blue light dancing through the air. She knew something was going to happen soon and she should be here for it, but not what.

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There's a lone man who lives, hermitlike, out in Muir Woods near San Fransisco. It used to be full of hikers, tourist trails and even a shuttle taking people up to see the redwoods. Of course, that was years ago.

He stays eight miles out from downtown San Fransisco, or what's left of it, in a little campground with a lovely view of the ocean. He hasn't really been in the area long... so far, he's had everything he needed. Tonight he's just come around to see if there was anything he could scavenge, maybe a bicycle that could power a generator. And a CD player. And some CDs. He misses recorded music, and he misses movies even more.

The nightly swap meet's going on down one end of the plaza, leaving the wind-sheltered end for the cookfires. Nobody really bothers with money any more. Things: food, tools, gadgets that still work, precious batteries and even more precious solar cells. The swappers pay rent in lights: strings and strings and strings of fairy lights marking the boundaries of the rooftop, powered by batteries fueled by the wind turbines at each corner of the rooftop.

Humans find ways to survive and be happy no matter how crazy things get. It is one of their great talents. And one of the guys does have a "bike shop"--salvaged scraps put together into mountain bikes and heavy-shocked triped haulers. Even a few dog carts. The free box is surprisingly full tonight too--mostly things like pairs of socks, a bundle of polypropylene rope, an oil lamp made from an old beer bottle.

Jen's sitting near the bazaar and watches as he goes bym head tilting slowly. The cat takes one look at her reaction, gets up, and nonchalantly starts following Donald.

He wasn't expecting this many people, or to have to trade. It's going to be a pain, because he doesn't have anything. So, maybe he'll come back some other day.

All he's really brought is a tent that was a lucky find, and a bit of extra food just for himself. But a 'bit' is a pretty decent sized meal for anyone else normal--he always seems to be hungry. That's probably why the cat is following him.

No signs that he's going to share with Mr. Kittycat.

Said Cat considers him a moment longer, then goes back to the pink haired girl and meows querulously. She exchanges glances with him, and then hops up and heads for the barbecue fires.

Eventually she comes ambling over with a coffee mug of fresh cider and a battered tin plate with flatbread, potatoes and a slab of shark meat on it. She edges up next to him and bumps against him gently. "Noms!"

Because save the humans. Partly because of the vampires, they were struggling to survive a lot more than before.

The cat wanders up with his own slab of shark in his mouth and sits down to start feasting.

He's definitely not skinny, just a man with a huge appetite for being on the short side. But there are lots of deer out there, and... well.

She screams not human to his eyes and ears, like almost everyone else around. And he's probably something bizarre and foreign to her. He's... feeling awkward all of a sudden. "Thank you, whoever you are...?"

That smell. That smell. Of wonderful things to be smoked. Oh, he's jealous.

She stops short for a moment. "Ooo!" New something! Maybe he is some kind of fairy. Or even an alien! She bounces excitedly. How cool!

"People who need food shouldn't go without it. I got the fish guy high, fish guy gives me food I can't eat, but you can eat it and you make me curious. So here, win win."

Oh yeah, he asked a question. "I'm Jen!" She pauses to watch nothing go floating past, then refocuses on him with a smile. "This is Growltiger." The cat continues eating messily, ignoring them. "You okay? Growly says you smell like the woods."

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