Rorschach has been quiet. VERY very quiet as of late. The Watcher-Elect had been busy and remarkably somehow under and overslept at teh same time. Rumors vary wildly in speculation of which all or none of may be true. Thank the Moon Court for consistantly being inconsistant.
Still the man known as Rorschach (or Roach-shack in some circles) was in teh back of his lady's shop working on a painting in reds and black of a cityscape at night hit by neon
Pilgrims of the Longest Road are annoying to a lot of people. They're obnoxiously perfect looking, for one. Not necessarily good looking, mind you, just perfect. If anything, the perfection is actively offputting. Actual symemetry in the human face doesn't exist. So when faced with it, there's some uncanny valley going on. Then there's the confidence and surety that comes from practicing for literally everything. Obnoxious looking, obnoxious behaving. That's a Pilgrim, to a degree. So it might be somewhat refreshing that Alonso steps into the backroom in a state of visible anxiety. Sure, it's low grade anxiety. Preoccupation, really. In another person it might be considered just another guy with something on his mind. In a Pilgrim it sticks out like a sore thumb. The dude's actually worried about something. Actively. To the point of distraction.
Alonso crosses the room to stand near enough to Rorschach to demand his eventual attention without actually encroaching on his personal space. He even removes the overlarge floppy hat that normally shadows his face, holding it over his chest.
Rorschach was painting, but the mute roach seemed to hear him all the same. A hand covered in black at the fignertips reached out and bade Alonso to join him. He would finish the strokes he started before looking up and signing to LAonso <<Evening, Pilgrim. Will you join me at my table?>> Unlie the Pilgrim the Brother of Silent Nights was a distracting assymetry of mismatched blacks, and mismatched sanguine reds. There were layers, and he was, perhaps, a scant bit more interested due to teh Pilgrim being 'off his trod'
"Sir," Alonso responds reflexively, setting his hat down at the table before seating himself at it and scooting in. He doesn't quite know what to do with his hands. Speaking with them doesn't seem to be in the cards, in any case, for all that he follows Rorschach's signing easily enough. "Forgive my intrusion, but I wished to bring to the attention of someone-- anyone --in a position of authority within the Freehold that I have reason to believe there is a rather grave threat to its welfare and continued safety. The other day some fellow comrades and myself intercepted a procession of biomechanical hobs which had... ripped through the hedge and right through the loop trod. They were attacking the hob village west of Stoneheart, down in the valley. We were able to neutralize them and take captive the hob we believe to have commaded the assault. I was tasked with bringing the captive to those who would best be able to handle its interrogation. While the violation of the loop trod's borders is worrisome enough, there is another layer to the matter which may be of particular interest to one of your Brotherhood."
Rorschach looked up, his black eyes had but a sliver of blue crest through them which watched Alonso keenly and passively on this. Flecks of silver glint in his eyes like stars as they squint watching the Pilgrim with an unblinking, hawk-like look. He gestured asking in sign first <<Do you understand me when I speak, first off>> This was important and at the sign of his weary distress held up a hand and gestured to a seat. His hands hung the painting aside on a peg and his brush got rinsed and set on its towel. The Sluagh was up and fetching the good rum and two glasses.
"I do," Alonso confrms from his seat. But he wastes no time on any follow up question. He continues with his own tale. "Before this transpired I was visited in my dreams. An unwelcome nightmare. Of creatures similar enough to those we are facing, calling for their mother. Which, you will find upon interrogating our prisoner, is a common refrain from our present invaders. There were a multitude of these creatures in my dream. An army of them. I was able to turn my dream against them, but had I not the intention of the dream was to surround me. Overwhelm me with these things. If, as I worry, this was the forcible invasion of my dreams by an unwanted guest? We have a powerful enemy at our gates. If, as I more greatly fear, this was a... premonition. A Foretelling of sorts associated with my unique assortment of kiths? Then people may begin to die. People very close to me. So I would very much appreciate the vigorous and animated prosecution of violence against these invaders unto their utter annihilation, or permission to undertake such a course on a volunteer basis with whatever comrades see it as I do."
Glitch pushes his way into the back room, dressed as one would for a concert or a riot, black hoodie over black jeans, large backpack bulging on his shoulders. He pauses as he hears Alonso, not wanting to interrupt, but some of the man's words begin to resonate with him. Violence. Invaders. Annihilation. His eyes move over to Rorschach, eager to find out the fate of this request.
Rorschach got the damn rum. There was protocol and procedure, and Rorschach seem married to both. His antennae seemed to curl and extend thoughtfully as if listening. The glasses were set down meticulously one then the other. There was almost a ritual in feeling taking place. Glitch's presence was known and he gave a nod to the new Technology Boy at large and tilted a looked to the Pilgrim from a haunted glaze that's seem too much in its lifetime. He signed back <<You are not alone. The oracles have been screaming in their sleep and cats tear at the walls looking for the night mice that are late to their own haunt in fear of other things. The world is... off. There is likewise a man peddling in things he should not threatening the market and cursing those about. And now? This. it all seems very cleverly crafted, but what have they said of their mother? Do you have any relic left of them? How often have you had this...encounter?>>
"They pledge loyalty to their mother, praise her. My interactions with them have been limited to a single dream and then a single instance of armed conflict. I had commandeered one of their fighting vehicles largely in tact, but it fell apart not long after I captured it. I do have a live prisoner, as I said. Currently held captive in the hedge. I'm willing to surrender it to whatever group or individual cares to take responsibility for its life and interrogation. I haven't the resources for prolonged captivity, and any interrogation I perform would be colored by my concerns for the wellbeing of those close to me. I am hardly an ideal candidate." Alonso reaches for his hat again and makes to rise from his seat, preparing to reaturn said hat to his head. There's a nod aside to Glitch, "This one assisted in the conflict I mentioned. Their insight would be helpful, no doubt." He refocuses on Rorschach, then. "I can deliver the prisoner wherever you like, whenever you like. But once that's done I am committing myself to the Hedge to police the Loop Trod and intercept whatever incursions I can find before more damage is done."
Rorschach blinked again. The animation became more intense and he looked from Alonso to Glitch and back <<I would very much like to speak to them and pull their memory apart to scry the cobwebs. This can be done...humainely." There was a slight nod and he made a mental note of things he'd need for that . <<We can climb into the dream and get an answer. Tomorrow there will be opportunity to bring it to the Harvestman Hollow.>>
Glitch looks from Alonso to Rorschach, and there's a bit of a frown. He's not sure exactly whose memories are about to be pulled apart. He shifts a bit where he leans against the waill, merely nodding at the mention of him being present at the fight.
"You will forgive me if I return to my self-appointed duties? Send word to Stoneheart. I'll leave my eagle there and he'll know where to find me. I'll come when called with the prisoner, assuming the trod is still open." Alonso returns his hat to his head at this point, adjusting it to properly shade his eyes from the light, then dips his head to Glitch. "Comrade." His greeting and parting managed with a single word, Alonso stalks for the door with the same anxious energy that brought him through it in the first place.
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