Log #01 : open

[stereotyped]

Who: Dorian Pavus, unhappy camper
What: camping is awful. Dorian moves in to one of the charming little cabins by the Lake.
Where: the abandoned houses by the Great Lake
When: ongoing through first week after arriving
Warnings: none


Home Sweet Home

Buildings. Marvellous.

Honestly, it had all been getting a bit too wild for Dorian – beautiful forests, an epically sweeping lake, plenty of green things were all very pretty in a 'we’re going to die' kind of way. But the little cluster of abandoned cabins by the Great Lake make for a much more survivable accidental adventure, or so Dorian reasons.

Unshouldering his pack at the door of the nearest cabin, Dorian heads inside to inspect his new home. A little draughty and in need of some patching up, yes, but it was all surprisingly modern, in a strange and alien way. Whatever this land is, it’s certainly not from a civilisation that Dorian recognises. A curious new world indeed.

His inspection leads him back to his new front door and Dorian bends to retrieve his pack again. But something catches his eye – the torn door frame, bearing a few strange marks. Lines and numbers, marking various points up the side of the broken frame. Dorian runs a thumb thoughtfully over the marks; cold and inherently unmagical, but still. Strange.

He straightens in the doorway with a pursed frown. Rather than being reassuring, the cluster of cabins now feel a bit... lost in time. Abandoned. Depressing.

A Feast Fit For A...?

Lost, confused and starving to death would be a pretty inglorious way to die. Dorian picks through the meagre supplies from his chosen cabin’s kitchen. Wizened apples, a handful of sprouted potatoes. A few grey chunks of hard cheese. Sad-looking oat biscuits, carefully bundled in to cloth. Apparently his hut's previous occupant hadn't been much of a chef.

But he had been a drinker. The glint of a row of glass bottles on a far shelf catches in the afternoon light and Dorian quickly retrieves the nearest one.

"Oh, hello."

With a delighted smile he thumbs off the lid, swirls the contents and lifts the bottle for a cursory sniff. A sickly-sweet berry wine, syrupy and over-aged judging by the smell, but with an unmistakably alcoholic tang. Perhaps Dorian might survive this after all.

With his newfound supplies bundled in his arms, Dorian sweeps back out to the clearing between the cabins.

"In the spirit of sharing and friendship and all that, I thought perhaps it might be a good idea if we pool our resources," He announces to the village at wide. "You know, so we might actually have a chance of surviving long enough to go home again."

Choose Your Own Adventure

[ Come and find Dorian exploring the area around the Lake, poking around any houses he can find, and trying to fix up his own little cabin. Also catch him staring thoughtfully at the Castle across the Great Lake because He Wants To Go To There. Dorian will approach anyone he sees and strike up conversation with an eye to getting everyone together and start investigating what the heck is happening here!! ]

Comments

a million years later...

[arachnerds]

He's working on the roof of the building that the Guardians had claimed when Dorian arrives. But while he's able to pick up on the sounds of his approach, there's little reason for him to go on to high alert. There isn't the same hair-raising warning he feels each time he ventures too far out in to the forest. Isn't the cold dread that comes with a set of glowing eyes. Instead, there's a warm feeling that settles on his chest when he realises that they might be gaining a new neighbour. And given just how this island is, the more of them who group together, the better.

By the time he's finally secured the makeshift repair to the remains of the roof, he can pick up on the sounds of the stranger heading back out again. It's all the cue Peter needs though to get moving. To crawl down the back of the building and to the ground again. Sure, Star-Lord and Gamora may know who he is, but he doesn't want to scare off a potential new friend by making it obvious he isn't exactly normal. So. Walking it is.

Dusting his hands off, Peter heads round to the front, a smile on his face as he purposely makes sure his feet catch as he walks. That he projects his approach and appears every part the teenager he is.

"Sir?" Despite being the one to approach, Peter still keeps his distance, unsure as to how the other man may react. If he's still new, then there really is no telling whether or not he'll see Peter as a threat. "Uh, hi. My name's Peter. Did you just get here?"

[stereotyped]

It would be hard to miss such an obvious approach. Dorian turns to curiously watch the young man - barely more than a child, really, although he knows better than to judge any book by its cover. This entire world seems to have some kind of curious aspect to it, simmering just below the surface. An ordinary teenage boy named Peter might be anything but.

"Peter, you say?" Dorian repeats brightly, committing the name and the face to memory. "Charmed to meet you, despite the less-than-charming circumstances."

Dorian presses a hand against his chest, inclining his head in a nod of greeting as he introduces himself.

"Dorian Pavus, newly arrived and not particularly happy about it. Are you a local?"