You Just Have To Make Do (Open~)

[qwertyuiopaz]

Desya wished his ship would just have an infinite fuel supply. He wished he hadn't run out of battery life for his music player. He wished half the junk in the ship wasn't wrecked and broken. He wished the sand in the ship would just disappear. He wished his friends were still with him. The list went on, and he knew it. Like, wishing he could be out in public without having to hide every single inch of his body. He wished for that, too; acceptance.

He cleared his throat lightly, stuffing his gloved hands into his pockets in order to briefly take them off. It got hot underneath all his clothing, sure, but it was something he had to suffer through. He had to keep a stiff jaw and keep on going through life. All he had was hope, nothing else. He knew nobody, he didn't know where he was. The only thing, literally, he knew was that he was getting strange looks. From everyone. He could tell they were silently sizing him up, wondering why in the world someone would wear so much clothing, taking the time to meticulously cover every inch of skin- velvet- he had.

Desya kept his head down, careful not to ruffle any of his clothing too much. Even a passing glance of his skin- again, velvet- would make these people ask questions. That was the last thing he needed. He'd have to tell them how his little group of kids at Lady Octonomy's school were separated, probably hunted and killed because of their powers... Nothing was special anymore. Desya had his theories, but none of them made sense when he thought of them rationally for a second. Not even, maybe a half second at best.

The streets were quickly becoming more and more crowded. Desya intended to take a train over to... Wherever it went. All he knew was that it would take him to somewhere else. He may as well get a chance to soak in the sights. After all, this place was apparently like this all the time, the sun just up enough to cast an orange glow over everything. It was nice. Not like his old world, where it rained. And rained. And rained. Flooding was normal in his world, prolonged periods of sunniness drew concern. It was nice to not have to tote an umbrella along.

Maybe coming here was a good thing. Perhaps the fact that he was alive now was worth it alone, but the fact that he was now in an extraordinary place might make up for the fact that he had no friends anymore. The velvet boy had nobody to depend on, nobody to look to for help and guidance, but he had the sun. He had a familiar light. And if things didn't work out here, he had that little beach he landed on the first time. Either way, things were- dare he say- looking up. He hadn't encountered much resistance or anything that was trying to kill him on the spot. A welcome change. Maybe the people here didn't have any afflicted in the first place! How amazing would that be... Amazing and alarming. If there was nothing like that, then something would have had to gone wrong on his planet. Something had to have been planned, and the conspiracy theories were right.

One thing at a time. He needed lunch, and to get to that train station already. What he didn't need was some salty ice cream. No way would he try that junk, it sounded disgusting. It looked nice enough, he was always a fan of blue, but the whole... Salty ice cream thing... It didn't really appeal to his taste buds. They had to have some place where he could get a decent salad at least. Therein lied his other dilemma. He picked up his head to look about for some place to eat. In doing so, he was suddenly made aware of the lingering gazes of stupefied passers-by. He could feel them just burning into his being, and Desya didn't like it one bit. The train station... Supposedly, he was going in the right direction, but the local who gave him this direction didn't seem all to friendly. Desya stopped, coming to that realization. They were probably wrong! What an idiot, Desya told himself never to trust anybody again, at least from here. He sat down on a bench, heaving a sigh. Why, life, why?

(Whoever responds to lil' ol' me gets e-kudos and my love :3)

[iuma]

The low standing sun casted it's golden rays over the lazy Twilight Town. Setting the sky in fire with a soft red glow. The colored light matched the architecture of the brick buildings and the cobblestoned streets.
As the calm serenity that ruled this place remains undisturbed. And all the inhabitants went on with their normal simple lives.

Appearing from the crowd, was a slightly older male, looking just like any other human. Although his hair and clothingstyle was a bit more excentric then that of an average passerby. A messy brown head with rebellious strands that pointed to all directions. A wrinkled face and an permanent scar running from the side of his mouth down to his chin. A large dusty and worn trenchcoat billowed in his wake. While beeing covered in bags and pockets. A shiny metallic walking cane was supporting him during his tread. But his eyes sparkled with energy and a lifelust rarely seen in one so old.
It was the map making wanderer, Mercator.

The exploring pilgrim was out on his own today. Visiting this lazy place that always seemed to make him even more melancholic then normal. But it wasn't the sights and nostalgia that brought him here today. No, he was here for different matters.
Holding in his hand was a little paper bag. Recently purchased at the commercial district. Navigating his way through the streets, the elderly male was looking for a nice quiet place to enjoy it's content. And found so at a bench that was currently occupied by a single person draped heavily in clothes. But the bench was long so there was room to spare to sit down.

Taking a seat next to Desya, the elder letted out a tired sigh as he puffed and stretched. The wrinkled skin flexing as the crackling of old bones could be heard. Inmediatly he placed the paper bag onto his lap and opened it up. Taking out a sandwich that he eagerly bited in and started to munch down.
After chewing the nutricious substance he glanced over at the quiet person next to him. And then gulped his food down to clear his mouth while taking out a second sandwich.
Offering it over to Desya, he spoke with a gentle smile:
"Do you want this one? They were holding a two-for-one sale. But I can't possible eat two of these."
Looking at Desya the old man noticed his velvet skin. But didn't even flinched at the site of it. He had already met so many strange creatures that this one hardly caused him to be amazed. Absolutely no sign of recoil or surprisement eminated from the Cartographer.

Turning back to his own sandwich, Mercator continued eating while gazing dreamily at the people passing by and the light shining over the skyline. Time seem to pass very slowly, if it did pass by at all. All sorts of people crossed the bench. Mothers with groceries, playing children running around full with energy. Riding on their skateboards or chasing a ball. Men travelling to the pubs and café's. Young couples walking hand in hand, enjoying a romantic evening out. All indicating that this was a very peacefull place to live.

Out of the blue, Mercator started to talk out loud. Clearly it was addressed to Desya. But the old man kept looking forward at the sight in front of him. His eyes were lost in daydreaming.
"This really is a nice town. No rush, no haste. Everything here goes at it's own pace, and people are happy here.
This world also as the most beautifull sunsets that I have ever encountered. No other world could possible best it. Although some come close."
Mercator paused, as he finished his sandwich. Letting moments fly by and the words sink in.
He hadn't directly looked at Desya the whole time while talking. So the old man could be just thinking out loud.

But then he letted out a sigh. One with loaded emotions and sadness. He frowned and achieved a worried look. While his eyes became glassy. As if he was regretting something.
Speaking much softer and also less cheerfull he said:
"To bad it is in such grave danger. I will surely miss this place if it would be gone."

[qwertyuiopaz]

There were too many people. That was Desya's single gripe, what all his troubles and worries could be attributed to. All these people... If there were half the people there were as there is, then he doubted he'd get such odd looks. He stuck out in a crowd. When there was no crowd to begin with...

Still, this place seemed like a nice, sleepy town. Of course, when you got past all the would-be bigots. The people who would scream in terror upon seeing Desya's skin. But that situation was quite easily averted with his clothing style. Just another example of life somehow working for him rather than against him- as it had so far. Desya didn't know if he wanted to be here yet. It was a nice place, definitely, he couldn't repeat that enough. And he was only getting weird looks. No stones were thrown, no insults flung at him... But he was alone. In a world of fluctuating crowds, Desya had to be a crowd of one. None of them would accept him into their little huddled masses. But that was okay. He was used to it.

A man, older, took a seat next to him. His clothing was... Not normal, just like Desya's. He smiled a bit, but it was covered by the cloth draped over his mouth. Maybe he looked like a gangster or something. Yeah, in a scarf. Right. The man beside him sighed and began to eat a sandwich. Great. Desya was a bit hungry, and this just took it a bit higher. At least this guy wasn't eating some of that... Sea salt ice cream. How could people stomach that stuff? In theory, it was disgusting, but obviously it had to be somehow good in order to become to popular that everyone talked about it from time to time. Desya turned once more to look at the people crossing by. His eyes followed them, not his head. He began thinking about where his friends could be. They were probably all headed to the closest world, some barely-inhabited world full of lush green meadows. And Desya, with the faulty radio, navigation system, and submarine attachments, ended up here. Where was here?

He was drawn out of his short reverie by a question. A rather simple question, at that. The man offered him a sandwich. Desya grinned and adjusted his scarf a bit, feeling a slight breeze. This guy couldn't have seen his velvet, no way. He wasn't frightened at all, so... It had to be fine. Of course.

"Yes, actually, thank you..." He took it and hesitated. He couldn't eat. Desya kept forgetting that, his version of food was simply being outside in the sunlight. No wonder, this place was constantly twilight. He must have been getting half the nourishment he would normally.

"Um, actually," he started, shifting uncomfortably a bit. This was awkward. "Do you have a bag? I'm not hungry now, but I'm sure I'll need it later."[/color] Just as long as he didn't tell the man he couldn't eat, he was fine. And, he didn't, so he was fine. Fine. But Desya was feeling anxious. There were a plethora of things that could go wrong, each just awaiting a single wrong move on Desya's part. Little did he know, the move was already made. A momentary lapse of judgment and the man had seen his skin, but didn't react. Desya didn't know this, and it was a good thing he didn't or he would be getting out of this situation as quickly as possible. It was just instinct on his home world. Afflicted people like Desya trusted other Afflicted and nobody else. They only had each other in the world.

Desya pondered setting his own new 'base of operations' here. Possibly construct his own little radio tower in an attempt to find other people. He knew their radio frequencies, they were basically the same thing as Desya's but one number less, or more. Perhaps he could mass-broadcast a message. He did see a huge bell tower thing, if he could gain access to that, he could... Of course! He just needed someone to help him out. Maybe this guy? Desya didn't know, he would have to place a lot of trust in someone in order for that to work, and he was sure not ready to trust a guy just yet. All he did was give him a sandwich.

He began speaking to him, or not. Desya couldn't tell, he was just staring forward and letting the words flow out of him. "Yeah, it is nice here." Desya didn't even begin to fathom all of his reasons why this place was nicer than home. A sob story might make this guy want to avoid him like the plague.

This place was in danger? No way, no way, no way. What other place had such a huge bell tower, what other place was just as perfect as this one to set up a radio tower? The first place he landed was nice, but the highest point was up on a tree, nothing like a huge tower! He began to panic.

"This place is in danger? How- how can... I mean, if we can, how can we save it?" Yeah, Desya was panicking. Still, all of his dreams and plans were just coming down, crashing on top of one another like the finale of an orchestral performance or something. He fidgeted in his seat a bit. He would have to buy all the parts, salvage what he could from his ship, oh, this would be terribly difficult. It didn't sound like they had much time. Desya's only choice, for now, was to wait and see what they could do. If anything. One thing was certain, it was not a time for pessimism.

[iuma]

Frowning his eyebrowns, Mercator took back the sandwich that he offered. Placing it inside the paper bag and rolling the opening shut. It never hurts to have some provisions at hand so the elderly wanderer stuffed it into his backpack. Filled with other trinkets and souveniers of his travels.

Mercator then leaned back and letted his elbows rest on top of the bench. Turning his head towards Desya while he raised an eyebrow and asked a little suspiciously:
"And why would you care for what happens to this world? You'r not from this place, that much is clear. You're like me, a traveller just passing through."

Inside his mind, Mercator was enjoying himself. He had gauged this stranger correctly it seems. He would need help in avoiding the danger that lurked in this town. And this creature looked to be up for the task. Desya's concern was exactly what he had hoped as an reply. Still, Mercator kept all of this inside. He would reveal it when the time was right, but right now he still remained cautious as he still needed to figure out this person.

After a short pauze, he mumbled softly. While rubbing his hand over his chin in a pondering fashion:
"Saving this town would be difficult for either of us. But... I suppose that perhaps together... we can delay things. Buy some time even."
Mercator was fiddling with his fingers in front of his chest while speaking those last sentences. Shortly after that, he righted himself from the bench and stood upright again. Tucking his cane under his shoulder in a military fashion.
He turned his body on his feet to face Desya and looked down on him with enthousiastic and energetic eyes. As a small, mischievious smile ornamented his elderly wrinkled face.

Speaking in a more formal matter he spoke clearly:
"If you are sincere about wanting to stop this threat, then I will show you the problem. "
He stuck out his hand, offering a handshake and introduced himself:
"I, am Mercator. The Cartographer of the worlds. With whom do I have the pleasure?"

[qwertyuiopaz]

Desya swallowed. This wasn't good. This guy was onto him. So far, Desya didn't think trusting this guy would be a good idea. So far, he seemed... A bit confrontational, maybe a bit headstrong. Desya didn't have the time to deal with this guy's little intricacies.

He took in a deep breath before beginning. "Why does it matter?" Desya needed to keep things secret. Maybe he was just a secretive person, he didn't know for sure. Something was up. This guy must be really smart. If he was so smart, then why couldn't he figure it out himself? He probably just wanted to hear it from Desya. Desya kept his eyes locked on the ground in front of him, not wishing to make eye contact. That would make keeping secrets a lot harder. Drumming his fingers on the bench, he waited for an opportunity. For what? Maybe he could just start running. Start and never stop until his legs gave out, which would prove to be a very long time. Maybe to suddenly remember something he had to do, like set up the radio before it all comes crumbling to the ground...

Wait. This guy didn't offer any kind of explanation towards anything. All he told Desya was that the world was in trouble. Something was going to happen, and that something wasn't going to be good. Why trust a stranger with this kind of information? Maybe this dude was a terrorist. Desya could be working with a terrorist and not even know it. He could be talking to a serial killer for all he knew, someone who just wanted to lure him away from the public's greedy eyes. What was this guy's motivation for breaking out the possibly life-altering information? Moreso, why to a stranger? None of this made sense. The sandwich was probably filled with poison. Two for one deal... Sure. Clearing his throat a bit, he shifted uncomfortably. He couldn't run. Murderer, terrorist, he would chase. Desya was a quick runner, and could keep running for a long time, but maybe he had some people just waiting for an impulsive action like that.

From what this guy was saying, the only chance they had at saving this world- whether the enemy was real or not- was slim to none. All they could do was buy time. Desya had to buy some time if what this guy said was true. He wasn't like the other citizens, it wasn't too out of the question for him to know things that they didn't know. Perhaps he should trust this guy. All of these decisions... Desya wished they weren't all forced upon him. Like, maybe someone could come by and just scream 'Oh my god you're that killer!' and then everyone would run away and Desya, too. That, or maybe something would happen where this guy would prove to Desya that the world was in danger and they were the only two to save it. Still, what could Desya do himself? Heal him, maybe, purify water, big whoop. He had no offensive power. Desya wasn't a fighter, never had been. This was too surreal, now more than ever he thought himself useless. Water purifiers were everywhere, now. So were healers. There was no need for a bordeaux velvet boy like himself with odd powers. Then, the man stood up. Desya exhaled sharply before letting it out in a cough. Something bad was going to happen, something bad was...

No, this guy didn't whip out a knife. Desya wasn't being held at gunpoint. His hand, extended to a simple handshake. Should he? After a moment of hesitation, Desya stuck out his hand and hastily shook the man's hand before withdrawing it, putting it back in his pocket.

"Modest Lagunov," he said, not using the name he was more commonly known as. A cartographer or the worlds seemed to be a very important person. What in the world was he doing here of all places? More importantly, where was this place relative to his home? "If you don't mind me asking," he started, adjusting a bit, "Have you heard of a world called Decorus Mare?" he asked, if anything a bit hopeful. If this guy was truly a cartographer of the worlds, then he had to have heard of it before. Or, maybe he hadn't... Maybe Desya's world was unknown to the others, just as these other worlds were unknown to him.

[iuma]

Mercator placed his cane down again and rested both his hands on top of it. While tilting his head back a bit and rolling his eyes up as he dug into his memory. Trying to find what he knew about the world mentioned.
After a couple of seconds, his face changed into that of recognition as he let out a brief victorious sigh.
He then said impulsively:
"Aah, yes... the beautiful sea. Such a fine world, so pretty... at least it used to be. I had to revisit after the catastrophe to draw all my maps again. A shame how they have fallen."

Then he turned his gaze back to Desya, still sitting on the bench. And gleamed confident with a smile and his eyes sparkling an epiphany. Things were now falling into place in the travelers mind as he stated the following.
"So that's where you are from. One of the many poor souls struck by the disaster. My condolences on your hardship, mister Lagunov."

Mercator's face softened up aswel as his voice. As he gave him a compassionate and pity full look. Understanding now his cowardice nature. Why he shelters himself so heavily. Physically through his clothing but also mentally.
It was easy to tell that this Bordeaux colored stranger was scared, even up the point of being paranoïd.
A wrong approach would only push him away.
So to proceed, Mercator asked him:
"Is there anything else you want to know, young lad?"

[qwertyuiopaz]

The sea was beautiful. Desya could remember many nights were he would stow away with a couple of his classmates to just watch it. Maybe skip a rock or two before being shooed away by some old lady with a broom. But they would always come back, just to see it one more time. They all knew their time wasn't going to be infinite. Desya, inside, hoped it would be. Maybe the hope convinced him it was. Either way, the surprise he felt when the shots started going off, when he heard the explosions... Oh, that part killed him the most.

Still, was that enough so the guy had to redraw the maps? Desya supposed there would have been some sort of backlash. Maybe he just had to erase Lady Octonomy's school and instead label that area 'big smoldering pile of rubble and ash.' That would make sense. At least he knew at least two people left, besides himself. There could have been a ton more, it wasn't that much of a stretch. His friends... They were good people. People. Not Afflicted, they were people, just like everyone else, and they were nice. They didn't deserve this. Nobody did. Desya would have taken the whole burden upon his shoulders if he had the opportunity, but life didn't seem to want to be fair.

The man began to speak with a smile. He was the victim here. It was concluded, rather soundly, that Desya was the one who deserved all the pity in the world. It was true, damn it, Desya's world was gone. His friends were gone. Everything, everything, everything was gone and he had nothing but this guy who didn't quite give Desya a comfortable feeling. Still, he seemed nice enough. Nice enough to trust, at least to some small degree. Desya wasn't dead yet, and this guy was already standing up. He didn't make a move, reach into his pockets... Nothing like that. Maybe for once Desya could...

No, that would be stupid. Why in the world would he just take off the scarf and expose the front of his neck to the world? Why would he let them see that his skin was, in fact, not skin? Those stupid, ignorant masses, all going with that the Svelta bastards said... 'They were right', they said, 'they know what's good for us, and we know it isn't you!' The elderly couple with their canes and their brooms and their brittle bones. What did the afflicted kids do? They went away without a word of protest because they knew they weren't wanted. They didn't put up a fight. They were making a fine example. That's what Lady Octonomy told them, hair graying with age and stress. The kids were setting a good example.

Desya could tell there were some kids who wanted out. But they were them. Desya was himself. Those kids got their opportunity, good for them, but Desya wanted to go home. He wanted to be able to sit on the shores once again and just watch the tide slowly recede into the sun and once again flee from the moon, creeping back onto the shore just enough to disturb some of the larger pebbles hidden away in the sand. That was what he wanted more than anything. That was the only thing that was impossible for him to ever take back. Was there anything else he wanted? He couldn't tell, but he had to at least do something so the people here don't get to miss their eternal sunset like Desya missed the ocean of Decorus Mare.

"Is there any way we can save this world?" he asked with a meek, quiet voice. More people couldn't suffer. Desya knew what it was like to suffer at the hands of someone else, someone he couldn't stop. If they had only known beforehand, they could all have fled to a specific area and then everything would have been fine... But that, obviously, wasn't meant to be.

[iuma]

Mercator looked observingly at Desya. Seeing how the ghosts of his past were haunting in front of his eyes. This boy sure seemed to be lost in memories a lot. Still, clinging onto the past to hard prevents one of moving forward and work at his future. Although the elderly male figured that right now was not the time to burden him with life's lessons and preachy wisdoms.

After his question, Mercator bowed his head forward again, facing the ground. Closing his eyes as he took a moment to deeply consider his inquiry. Exhaling a but harder and longer then normal through his nostrils, escaping as a sigh.
He then looked back at Desya and said:
"Well,... we can only try."

The old man wished he could give a clear answer. But the truth was that there wasn't any. There was no obvious way or fail proof method of saving this world eventually. Much would depend on things to come. And in the end it would all come down to the decisive actions of a few. Being at the right time, at the right place.

Shaking away those dark thoughts, Mercator again looked at Desya with a roguish smile again and confidence. Giving a small and faint tap with his cane against his legs. Stirring him to get into action as he said on a lecturing and strict tone:
"Well up on your feet. We sure won't save this world by sitting around all day. There is much work to be done.
Follow me and I'll show you what ails this world."

Nearly immediately after that, Mercator turned around and started to walk away from the bench. To much time had been wasted already. Making him feel constricted. If there's anything Mercator can't do, then it's to sit still for a while. Let alone spending to much time in one place. Driven by an unbridled passion to constantly keep moving.

[lunaxshadow]

Sitting down on the train station was a silver hair, purple eyes 16 year old girl. She look down on to see all the town's people walking to where they needed to go. Luna wore a white sleeveless turtleneck shrits, black shorts and black short boots. The wind belowing gently and moving her shoulder length hair.
Luna grew bored of watching twilight town's people, nothing never happen around her nothing at all. She stood up and wrapped a black silk scarf around her neck, she started walking towards the stairs, but look up at the sky. The sunset, how beautiful it is, everyday the sky will have a beautiful sunset. Luna walk down the stairs, think what she could do to not be bored.