asgardmeridiem | Cats land on their feet

Who: Ninth Doctor and open
What: Nine pays a visit to Hel District.
When: Day 433.
Where: Hel.
Rating: PG-13.

If anyone were to ask Nine what he was thinking, he'd say that the last few days had been a strange little mishmash of confusion, elation, helplessness, and just a little bit of rage. Because what a fine welcome that had been, arriving just before a major catastrophe happened, and on top of that, having to watch from what he still thought of as slightly undeserved safety, knowing that people were still trapped beyond the barrier and drowning.

So, it was with that in mind that, as soon as the floodwaters receded and it seemed safe enough to move about the streets, he threw himself into the cleanup efforts without hesitation, doing his part to clear away rubble and branches and whatever had been left behind as the waters rushed back to reveal the damage.

But in all of this, he realized he hadn't gone to check out the district that he supposedly belonged to. A brief glance at the bracelet reminded him that the district's name was Hel, which brought a grim sort of smile to his face. He changed direction then, heading for that place's welcome hall. It seemed like a good place to start.

And when he got there, it didn't take a second to realize that Hel district was in just as much disarray as the rest of the city. Of course it was; that flood had swept through everything, or at least it seemed as though it had to have done that. So without a second's thought, Nine picked a spot to clear of fallen branches and threw himself doggedly into the work.

Maybe this wouldn't really help anyone, but as he moved on down the street, clearing away debris as he did, he thought that at least there would be open streets to walk on. It was definitely a start, if nothing else.

And, well, it was a start that he didn't declare finished until much later, when the street he'd been working on was clear to his satisfaction, but that wasn't the only reason he'd stopped. He looked down, realizing with a start that he was breathing quite a bit harder than he would have normally, and- Wait, what was that?

"I must be older than I thought, to have forgotten just for a second what it was like to be tired," he said mostly to himself as he placed one hand against the nearest wall to support himself.

But it wasn't just mere tiredness, either. With only one heart going, it seemed as though his stamina had had a limit put on it, and that was so far removed from normalcy that he was still working out how best to react.

[ ooc: Feel free to have your character run into Nine while he's working on shifting debris or afterwards, when he's stopping to catch his breath. ]

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

"They can, yeah, but that doesn't mean that they will." In his experience, people who've lived through something like floods and witnessed other people die aren't always in possession of the best powers of observation they've ever had. "Better to be safe than sorry, anyway."

No, he doesn't have super strength, but the idea of sitting out of the work just because he's not the most muscular person alive isn't something he likes. "Well, 'course they could, and I'm sure they are, but what about the rest of us?"

He probably could find something else that doesn't involve shifting heavy rock, but it's what he wants to do, and he's just a bit stubborn once he gets set on something.

"No one's telling you not to help," she says, primly. "But you're not going to be much good to anyone if you don't rest every once in awhile."

Most people have been so busy with the reconstruction efforts, and it's almost an entirely new phenomenon to her. People get tired back home, sure, but they don't work themselves physically to the point of utter exhaustion. That's just stupid.

"What's it look like I'm doing now?" He's not moving rocks around for the moment, so it counts as a rest, sort of. "A minute here, a minute there, and I'll be alright, really."

And, so long as he's not collapsing, there's still things he can do to help out. So, it's not that stupid, Alison, at least not in his mind.

"I'm not sure how much that counts," Alison starts off, and then just shakes her head. "Fine, do what you like. It's your funeral."

"Then just assume that it counts," he replies with a shrug. "And yeah, it is my funeral, though hopefully I won't die." He knows he won't, not from this, but he's just playing along with her choice of words.

Her lips press together in a firm line, but that might be because she's trying not to smile.

"I'd hope not," she says, after a moment.

Well, it's working. He hasn't got a clue about it.

"I'm a bit difficult to kill, so you haven't got a thing to worry about." Not that he supposes she is, since they're practically strangers, but still.

"I'm more concerned about the city, to be honest. It'd be awful, dealing with bodies and rubble in the streets." She says that primly, but it's clear it's a hyperbole. Dead bodies would actually be the worst she doesn't want that at all.

"This whole situation is bound to be that way. Awful, I mean." For all the reasons she just stated and more besides. "I'm sure there'll be greater need for larger numbers of supplies, with all these people around."

And he can't really speak with any certainty about what's available and what isn't, but hopefully there's enough to accommodate everyone.

"That much was obvious." She shakes her head, still trying to wrap her head around this place. She'd initially thought of it as a well-built ruse, a contained city constructed to further drive her mad. But if there's a world outside, and countless refugees...

"Magic or not, this place falls to the same problems as anywhere else."

"Was it? Oh well. Could've been worse." He could've responded with something completely from out of left field. He's been known to do that on occasion, incidentally.

"Never thought it didn't. The flooding was confirmation enough of that. Now the question is, how quickly can we pool our resources and set things right again?"

"What's your definition of 'right?'" She almost laughs, as she says it. "It probably won't take long at all, to pick up the overturned tables and build up the damage. But this place was a bit odd to begin with. I don't know if there's any fixing that."

"Good question, that one. Opposite of wrong, or just whatever passes for normal around here." If anything did, that is. Maybe what's normal for this place is actually something akin to chaos. "There's enough people around here to make short work of it all, I'd think. Anyplace that's got gods just wandering about is bound to be a little odd."

Or at least, it's bound to be different. And he does have a certain liking for things that are different.

"A little odd," she repeats, with a little hitch on the word. "Of course."

"Or a lot odd, if you prefer that," he says, smiling a bit. "Well, suppose I shouldn't keep you, if you've got anywhere to be."

"It's all relative, here," she says, with a roll of her eyes. She takes a step back, but before turning away entirely she says, "Don't work too hard."

It's almost a joke, but in the next moment she's turning on her heel to walk away.

Cats land on their feet

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