savetheearth | (no subject)

Who: Aaron Strider, Julien Sakazaki.
Where: Dead District
What: What caused the explosions? They plan to try and see, using compatible stealth echoes.
When: Way back around November 21.

This was it, then. Julien carefully collected all of his hair under a hairnet and settled a knit cap over it, then wound a rayon scarf around his neck, careful of his left ear. Years back it had been pierced. The hole had closed. A couple of days ago, he'd taken a needle, a candleflame, and half of a potato and re-pierced it. Around a matte black stud his earlobe was a little red and swollen, which he knew was normal for the first few days. Better to focus on that irritation than how he hated knit caps and hairnets. They itched.

He hadn't been heading out to LSR for a year and a half without learning to wear clothes that looked cheaper than he usually favored. Still, for this he'd downgraded even more than the things he wore to the birdhouse. Everything was in shades of mostly pale gray or faded, grayish colors. His hooded zippered sweater was flecked with permanent white paint, underneath his v-necked outer shirt was a T-shirt with peeling black lettering. His jeans were slightly disintegrated and heavily patched with bits of other jeans, some clumsily; the hems had been stitched up tight, made artificially neat. He'd just tied worn black shoes so thoroughly that just kicking or toeing them off was essentially impossible, and now he shouldered a messenger bag which had had bright zipper pulls replaced with bits of string.

Any incongruity was in the scarf - gray, yes, but up close it was newer-looking, completely intact and utterly clean - and the harness that he'd strapped under the hoodie, only one strap of which was particularly visible. Black leather, with a dull gray buckle.

"Good thing it's cold today," he said, trying not to seem like he was asking for Aaron's approval. He'd remembered the advice the other man had given him over dressing for the reservoir visit and thought about what he'd need for this, and spent quite a while in rummage bins or with a needle and thread.

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There was one coat Aaron wore a lot: gray, worn, has seen many, many better days. He wasn't wearing it. His clothes are usually worn but cared for: these were clearly not. They had been dirtied, they were very old, and while Aaron wasn't exactly in all gray, the colors were faded and neutral, and if you didn't know him -- if he wasn't looking at you -- he could pass easily enough for homeless. It also looked like he hadn't shaved in days.

He looked Julien over with a critical eye, then nodded. "It'll make this more comfortable, anyway."

They were a few blocks away from the Dead District, far enough from the police perimeter to be sure they were out of sight.

"Are you ready?"

Despite himself Julien felt a little glow of weird confidence bordering on eagerness. He shifted his weight, trying not to bounce from foot to foot. If he hadn't pulled on a pair of gloves he might have seen under his skin, noticed his sluggish heart rate picking up a little. This was something... it was almost... When he blinked it was gone.

Nervous around the inner glow, he smiled. "Absolutely. And you're sure they didn't decide to change things and bring the dogs today?"

Aaron held up a hand, then crouched down to the ground, closing his eyes to listen. A couple of long seconds passed before Aaron stood again, dusting his hands off.

"No dogs. They're all patrolling along the usual routes. If we take this street in and are quick about it, we shouldn't be spotted."

Julien took a half step closer and stopped himself, then tried to hold still lest he interfere with communing with the ground, or whatever this should be called. It was weird, but who was Julien to judge, he could make pretty good guesses about what people had eaten and when by seeing the colors on their faces, except Aaron's talent was actually useful for this.

"Okay." He made a false start, thought that maybe Aaron would prefer to lead, thought it wasn't like he couldn't overtake him, and actually started moving.

Julien knew the route, and had better sight; Aaron was content to follow at an easy pace, eyes and ears open for anything unexpected. His footsteps are almost silent.

The trickiest part is when they come a block from a policeman: they'll have to cross a road out in the open. Once they're across, they'll have a building between them and him.

Aaron pauses before they cross, drawing back into the shadows of the alley they're in and thinking.

After a moment Julien looked back, not having expected Aaron to be so quiet at that pace. A startled smile flickered across his face and he turned forwards again. Don't worry about that, he told himself.

There were some birds around. Usually they might take an interest in Julien. Most pigeons he's tried to help seem to remember him and beg for food. Today they went about their business, taking no more interest than any of the distant humans. Maybe this worked on them, too.

Julien stopped when Aaron did, and got his back against the wall. This was farther in than he'd gone since the bombing, but he remembered this issue coming up. He leaned in a little to ask a low-voiced question, but managed to be distracted.

- the smell of cigarette smoke. The situation. A superior like this, more taciturn lately than Aaron tended to be. It was not a solid memory, more like a folder's contents transferring themselves into Julien's consciousnesses, giving him flashes of filenames and thumbnails. His pupils pinned and laxed.

For a dizzying instant he saw or imagined Aaron with long narrow wings, mostly white but patterned in pale, subtle shades of xantho, yellow, gold, and dawn, and with dark, steady far red eyes. That didn't work, though - he wouldn't be a head taller like this, and he was better back in HQ.

"Leone," he muttered.

Aaron's head turns quickly round, fixing Julien with a sharp stare. What was Julien talking about -- why was he speaking out loud when they were in line-of-sight from the Dead District's guards?

There's concern in that look, too. Aaron knows Julien understands what they have to do and how important silence is right now. If Julien is breaking silence, something unexpected must have happened, something possibly compromising.

It wasn't too late to turn back, if a pulse had made Julien unfit to keep going.

Are you all right?

Leone. His handler. The old man was better out of the field these days, but sometimes he had to be there, and accounted for. It was exciting. A challenge, and one he'd always been able to surmount.

Another smile spread itself across Julien's face - confident, almost a smirk. He'd done this before, it would be fine. He blinked hard, third eyelid showing, pupils expanding and contracting, and shook his head. Not Julien. Someone else. This was Aaron, not a winged being he didn't entirely trust, and they had a specific goal, and it was worth focusing on. Getting caught was unacceptable.

Also this wasn't the time for more Julien's Pulses Are Disruptive Theater.

"It's okay," he said very softly, his voice not carrying much farther than the length of his arm, lips not moving. "Tell you later." A jerk of his chin towards the policeman, not presently visible, and he raised his eyebrows. They'd discussed ways to get past this point. What would it be?

Despite himself he licked his lips and ran his tongue between lips and teeth, trying not to smile. He could focus on the here and now, but a tinge of excitement still thrilled in his bones. How wonderful to know what had to be done, or have an idea at least, and be able to do it.

Edited 2013-12-18 05:29 (UTC)

Aaron scrutinized Julien for a long moment, gauging whether or not the young man was really all right to go on. Finally, he nodded.

This was where their stealth was supposed to come in handy. Back against the wall, Aaron cautiously peered around the corner, watching the cop. When it seemed like the policeman in question's attention is occupied with something else, Aaron gestured to Julien to follow him, and took off across the street. His footsteps were all but silent; it would take superhuman hearing to detect them.

He tried to look sober and steady while Aaron studied him, to try to convey I can do this with his eyes. It seemed to work.

On the principle that one shape flitting across someone's peripheral vision was less suspicious than two, Julien tried to keep pace, seeing in his inhumanly clear periphery that the cop was looking at something in his hands. A phone, maybe.

Julien's footsteps at a run weren't as quiet, but it was still a disproportionally soft sound, like individual leaves hitting the asphalt, easily lost. While he just couldn't run as quickly as Aaron could, he was fast and sure.