[Open] Philly camp

[makinuscream]

Who: Kisuke Urahara & You!
What: Various prompts at the camp
Where: L-Space, Outside
When: If relevant, like if you want to note it's after an event.
Warnings/Notes:None, will update if needed.



[ L-Space ]

[ Some has made a tiny workspace. It's nothing special, just a table made out of debris and a small candle. There are notes scattered about, feverishly written out with equations complete with strange notations (unless one is familiar with spiritual energy differentials and the like). Off to the side sits a half-eaten Philly Cheesesteak and one that's untouched. (Someone's practicing.)

A clatter comes from one of the shelves followed by a call:] Hey! You gotta a second? I need a hand.

[ Amid the books and worn down furniture, stands a man in a white and green striped bucket hat who is currently elbow deep in a row of books. The hat obscures his eyes but not the half-smile on his face. ]

Could you hold this? [ One hand holds out a book, waggling it in the air. ]

[ Outside: Practice makes perfect ]

It's been awhile since I've used one of these. [ Urahara regards the glowy bow in his hand with an amused grin. ] At least it looks familiar.

[ The luminescence isn't that of spiritual energy, but it is close enough to tug at the disconnected feeling Urahara has and has had since he arrived. The inability to sense those around him gnaws at the back of his mind. Here, he does not have the power that he's used to tapping at will.

It's a problem, but not a Problem. Or so he tells himself. There's much he has to learn, but that's never been an issue for him. Drawing up the bow, Urahara aims at what used to be a street sign and lets the missle fly towards the target. He's off by a half inch. Not bad. Not great, but not bad. ]

I don't suppose you'd care to hold up a target for me? [ He says with a glance at the person walking by. Is he serious? Probably not. Maybe.]

Comments

L-Space

[awfulcer]

[Books are not Dixon's friend.

Still, for want of something better to do and looking for a way to distract himself from the pain of the stab wound in his back, he's been shuffling along the halls of the library, looking for something along the lines of comic books or magazines or hell, even Harry Potter. At the end of each aisle or so he stops, feeling a deep fatigue that makes moving unappealing. Eventually he settles in to take a nap on the floor, curled up against a row of encyclopedias with his ratty, blood-stained, disgusting jacket as a makeshift pillow.

He's in that half-asleep drifting state when a clatter from a shelf nearby startles him awake. He slowly gets to his feet and turns the corner to see a workspace all set up well before he notices that there's someone talking to him and jutting a book in his direction.

He squints at the new guy. Another goddamn new guy. How many of these are they going to get in a week? How are they supposed to keep track of all them? His gaze moves towards the book, and the squint takes a near-offended look.]

Why? [He points to the candle and then to all the books.] That could start a fire.

[makinuscream]

Because I need to pull a few more of these. [ Kisuke waggles the book again and pauses in his perusal of the shelves long enough to flash a wide smile. ] And climbing down, walking to the table, then coming back over will take more time.

Right now the lighting options are limited. [ If he still had his powers, that would not be the case. Bereft of his ability to make spiritual lights, risking a fire hazard is a small sacrifice in the pursuit of knowledge. ] Looks like you've had a rough one though.

[awfulcer]

What do you need 'em for? [Still looking skeptical, Dixon takes the book, not even bothering to take a look at what it is. He does, however, go to the work table and move all the books and pages a little further away from the candle.]

Good point. I went hunting through the Dollar Store for a flashlight, but no dice. [He gives Kisuke a look like no shit to the comment that he's looking a little ragged. In the low light it may be hard to make out the burn scars on his face, but the general sense of someone who's been through life's washing machine is pretty evident. Battered clothing, bruises, pained posture.] You just get here? Because we've all had a rough few days, what with the evil knights and witches attacking.

[makinuscream]

Well, first off, I'm trying to ascertain if this is a very strange, full sensory dream brought about by a delayed stress reaction to the equivalent of a hundred year cold war finally ending. [ He sounds perfectly serious. ] And when we dream, any sort of writing often appears different.

You, in the dream, might understand what is written even if you perceive it as being in a language you shouldn't know. However, upon waking, anything we remember about the writing is usually jumbled. [ A pause and then: ] And then there are the ones about magic.

[ Actual magic. Magic as a science. Magic as an art. Not just fantasy books about magic. ]

Yep, just popped in... fell asleep. Whatever. [ Kisuke silently marks one point in favor of fever dream at the mention of evil knights and witches. ] Why were they attacking?

[awfulcer]

Uh...huh. [That's all significantly more complicated than Dixon can wrap his head around easily in his current beaten-up, exhausted state, or probably even in a completely well-situated state. What he gets out of that is that Kisuke's trying to tell if it's a dream, and that there's...something he's doing with the reading to try and determine it.

Dixon figures he'll just cut to the chase and try to dispel Kisuke's misconception.]

It's not a dream. I wish it were. I could pinch you so you could make sure, if that'd help. [He takes a seat at the work table, bored of standing.] I guess they didn't want us saving the world. I'm going to take a wild guess that you got the whole thing about saving the Green, so let me just warn you that it's more of a pain in the ass than it sounds like.

[makinuscream]

Saving anything that has the power to theoretically pull people from their home planes into another is always going to be a pain the ass.

[ And feels far too much like deja vu for Kisuke's liking. Not to mention that it possibly rewrites his understanding of the universe which is fundamentally disturbing. ]

Begs the question, doesn't it? If there's enough to yank us all here, what exactly are we all supposed to accomplish that cannot be done through other means.

[ Or, it's a dream. Still not ruling that out among the other viable options just yet. He does open the assembled books. ]

I don't suppose they handed out pamphlets detailing out these threats to the world that I might have missed?

[awfulcer]

[Dixon has legitimately not asked himself that question.]

I got more questions about who it is making the decision on who they yank here. Seems not everyone's built to keep up. [By which he means him. He's outclassed in literally every way by the people around him, and his special skill seems to be slowing everyone down.]

If you find one of those pamphlets, let me know. [He waves at a stack of books.] We sure didn't get one when we got here. Some of us got weapons, though. [Dixon's shield is around the corner, where he was napping, but he doesn't get up to go get it because sitting's pretty comfortable.] Just woke up with shields and swords and all. Don't know if that helps your dream theory or not.

[makinuscream]

Ah, good question that could have a slew of potential answers. The bad: they're incompetent at judging people or with whatever power, spell, etc. they're using. The neutral: The definitions of what or who they need are too broad or vague or the power, spell, etc isn't one that can be fine-tuned. The good: They see something we as individuals might not yet envision or they're dealing in potential.

[ That Kisuke has no access to his powers lends no solid clue. Perhaps whatever is happening cannot support the abilities of a Soul Reaper, or some other factor that he's yet to discover (though he has plans to do so). However, if the neutralizing of his abilities is intentional that raises far more and less desirable questions. ]

Huh, so they armed some people and not others. [ Says the man openly wearing a sword. ] And maybe effectively disarmed others. Honestly, whether or not it supports the dream theory would depend on the weapons themselves and whether or not this is technically a dream or technically a nightmare.

Did you get a weapon?

[awfulcer]

[He considers that. He'd probably put his money on the middle one; most people here have something obvious going for them, like super powers or being crazy smart or magic. He's guessing that Urahara's falling into one of the latter two buckets, but he isn't sure. The ones who seem hapless are outliers.]

I got a shield that does magic. [He's keeping it a little on the down-low that it also gets him drunk as hell, but some people have already pieced it together. It's got other uses, in addition to its mystical, anesthetizing, inebriating power: it's granted him combat skills completely incongruous with the rest of his capabilities, it changes size to be easier to carry, and its edges are sharp enough to cut a monster's head off (which he's learned from experience).]

You can take a look at it. [He gestures towards the other side of the bookcase with his chin.] The kid who woke up with a sword, that's magic too. Seems to be just us normal folks who get weapons, but not all of us. Normal people, that is.

[Just the sucky ones.] It's like they're trying to even the playing field a little.

[makinuscream]

[ The thought that the forces bringing them were trying to 'even things up' is an intriguing one, but it leads Urahara to the inevitable question of what exactly is the 'playing field'? Are they being balanced against each other, something else, or both? Those not so small inquiries spiraled off into a dozen others that he left alone for now because Dixon had given an offer Urahara can't refuse.

Dixon barely finishes the gesture before Urahara kites around the bookcase, eyes landing on the item in question. ]

What have you been able to do with it? [ Curious Kisuke is, but he is polite enough to not snatch the shield up without a "by your leave". Not to mention that if it is magic, it might not take kindly to someone other than its wielder picking it up.] There was no indication on how to use it when you found it?

[ Slow down, Urahara. One question at a time. ]

[awfulcer]

You can pick it up, [he says, noticing how Urahara is hesitating. The shield is currently about the size of a large dinner plate, lightweight, golden, barely-perceptibly engraved with the images but not text of a police badge.] It changes size when there's fighting around. Gets bigger and heavier. I never actually seen it do that, it just...happens.

[Well, now he feels pretty dumb explaining that. He feels tired just trying to keep up with Urahara's rapidfire questions, but he's doing his best to answer them; he pretty keenly recalls how disoriented he was getting here. How disoriented he typically is now, a few weeks in.]

It didn't come with instructions, but soon as I put it on I knew how to do kung fu. [It is absolutely not kung fu.] And it makes me invulnerable. Nothing can hurt me and I don't feel any pain. [He rests his head in his arms on the table, figuring it might be rude in general but that 1) he doesn't care and 2) looking as beat-up as he does, it couldn't be held against him anyway.]

You got a name?

[makinuscream]

[ Polite he may be, Urahara still doesn't need a second invitation. He scoops up the shield in both hands, half expecting an unpleasant zap for troubles. A curious frown forms as he studies the shape, the metal, and a half a dozen other details. ]

Hmm, so it responds the moment there's conflict. Like it knows what you'll need. Interesting. [ Spirit swords needed commands. They only changed shape when their wielder commanded that power. It lends credence to Dixon's theory. If the weapon could compensate for the owner's lack of training to some extent, it would make sense. Though at the bit about kung-fu, his brows shoot it up. ]

Really? That's quite a list of attributes. How many times have you used it? [ Curiosity piles up like a bunch of rambunctious kittens scrambling for attention. Theories and questions compete for attention. ]

Ah, names. That'd be polite, yeah? [ Setting the shield to the side, Kisuke bows. ] Kisuke Urahara, shopkeep, from Karakura Town, Japan.

[awfulcer]

It's probably smarter than I am. [It's a joke, but it's one of those jokes where the chuckle belies a little fear that it's the truth. He sits back up.]

I used it up on the hill and when we got attacked by these things a little before that. [And almost every night he either traps a pigeon in a room or convinces someone trustworthy on the squad to help him activate it for a hit of magic, but he's definitely not advertising that fact.] Careful, it's sharp. I noticed the other day that it comes back to me when I whistle for it like a boomerang.

[There's a bit of a deer-in-headlights look on Dixon's face when Urahara says that, because there's no way he's going to pronounce that right on the first try, or ever. He scours his brain for nicknames he can use without pulling a rude "hey you".] Dixon. From Ebbing, Missouri.

[He doesn't specify the United States because as far as he's concerned, that's the default.]