[ He still looks a little shell-shocked, which probably isn't surprising, given how long it's been since he's seen such a populous city, so many well-fed people, so many luxury goods for sale.
If this is a dream, it's the weirdest fuckin' dream he's had in decades.
When he bumps into someone, he jumps, takes a hasty step back, immediately hunching into a defensive kind of stance, like he's ready to fight, to beat off whatever comes -
And then he breathes, glances around, shrugs it off. He still looks haunted. ]
Sorry.
[ He does not sound particularly apologetic. ]
(training grounds)
[ Joel is not participating in sparring or any such thing. He is, however, observing the action, leaning against a wall or nearby fence, arms crossed over his chest, a critical look on his face. ]
Y'all think this'll actually help, once you're in a fight for your life?
[ He is skeptical. ]
(settling in)
[ The barracks room is a little more familiar territory for Joel. He's been in rooms like this before, though, again, probably less clean, less comfortable, less safe. He sits on the edge of his assigned bed, as if he's still not sure any of this is real. Then he glances up at his (probable) roommate. ]
They're enlisting us for their war, aren't they? That's what they want us for.
nocwich; market/gambling den;
[ He wanders the market square for a bit, but it's all pretty overwhelming for him (still). He's not sure if he'll ever be able to wrap his head around all this - all the abundance, the safety. Eventually, he finds his way to the gambling den, and the tension in his shoulders eases, just a tad. ]
Please tell me someone knows how to play Texas Hold 'Em.
wildcard;
[ Any location or scenario you want to roll with is fine by me! Or feel free to hit me up at frodabaggins! ]
joel miller | the last of us | the hermit
(exploring cadens)
[ He still looks a little shell-shocked, which probably isn't surprising, given how long it's been since he's seen such a populous city, so many well-fed people, so many luxury goods for sale.
If this is a dream, it's the weirdest fuckin' dream he's had in decades.
When he bumps into someone, he jumps, takes a hasty step back, immediately hunching into a defensive kind of stance, like he's ready to fight, to beat off whatever comes -
And then he breathes, glances around, shrugs it off. He still looks haunted. ]
Sorry.
[ He does not sound particularly apologetic. ]
(training grounds)
[ Joel is not participating in sparring or any such thing. He is, however, observing the action, leaning against a wall or nearby fence, arms crossed over his chest, a critical look on his face. ]
Y'all think this'll actually help, once you're in a fight for your life?
[ He is skeptical. ]
(settling in)
[ The barracks room is a little more familiar territory for Joel. He's been in rooms like this before, though, again, probably less clean, less comfortable, less safe. He sits on the edge of his assigned bed, as if he's still not sure any of this is real. Then he glances up at his (probable) roommate. ]
They're enlisting us for their war, aren't they? That's what they want us for.
nocwich; market/gambling den;
[ He wanders the market square for a bit, but it's all pretty overwhelming for him (still). He's not sure if he'll ever be able to wrap his head around all this - all the abundance, the safety. Eventually, he finds his way to the gambling den, and the tension in his shoulders eases, just a tad. ]
Please tell me someone knows how to play Texas Hold 'Em.
wildcard;
[ Any location or scenario you want to roll with is fine by me! Or feel free to hit me up at