undergrounds | The Times, They Are A-Changin' (OTA)

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The Times, They Are A-Changin' (OTA)

A. 99 Luftballoons - Hillingdon House

Rorschach was up early in the Hillingdon House. He was down in the kitchen, staring at the jar of sugar like he was going to burn a hole in it by sheer force of will. Many things had faded from his time as a human being. He'd forgotten how to breathe, what sleeping and dreaming felt like, and even what it had been like to be visible all the time. What hadn't faded was the memory of sugar cubes. He'd always had some in his pocket, chomping on them whenever the urge struck him. Right now, he'd give up what passed for a soul to have a bite of just one.

When someone comes into the kitchen, he whips his head around, alarmed, and suddenly disappearing. When he realizes it's just another resident of Hillingdon, he flickers back into existence, taking up residence at the table once again. He doesn't say hello or make any introduction. This is on par for interactions with the quiet, laconic ghost. Rorschach is always just sort of there, like a piece of furniture that they just can't seem to get rid of.

B. Desolation Row - Around London

When you're dead, there's nothing but time on your hands. Rorschach has learned this well after thirty years of roaming around London. Frankly, it's a shame he doesn't have one of his journals in his pocket anymore. He would have filled up a dozen of them by now with everything that he'd seen over the years. This city was much the same as New York: pretty on the surface, but full of grime when one looked at its underbelly. So many supernatural types made this place their home and most of them showed some sort of malice towards human beings. If only he'd been alive, he would have taken great joy in clearing them out. As it was, all he could do was watch, and occasionally point hunters in the right direction.

He can be found in numerous spots all over the city, but he avoids the Thames as an inescapable obstacle. Whether just walking down a crowded street, perched on the rooftop of a tall building, or riding through the Underground, Rorschach watches and waits. Though what he's waiting for, he just can't say. As it is, he can be found only occasionally visible, his odd mask the first thing that stands out. Otherwise, people just feel a cold chill as he passes by or goes through them, a sudden weird feeling making the hair stand up on the back of their necks.

C. Wildcard

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Rorschach is making his way down the street, passing right through people, the habit of moving around them long since forgotten. Each time he does that, someone shivers, and turns their collar up in a way that has nothing to do with the cold and damp. Dodger's hat is the first thing that catches the ghost's eye. He can appreciate a good piece of headwear. It's a lost fashion trend in this day and age.

As he draws nearer to the boy, he gets a strange feeling, some instinct that tells him there's something different about him. Could he be of the supernatural persuasion? Only one way to find out. He follows Dodger, silent as deat.

The Dodger ends up fishing around in his pockets, pulling out a ton of change - most of it in coppers - and carefully counting it up. There's just enough to get him a hot cup of tea from a nearby snack van, and he heads off in that direction, handing over the change with a muttered sorry. Still, it gets him his tea and he wraps his hands around the Styrofoam cup with a small grin.

He's vaguely aware of a feeling on the back of his neck, like he's being followed but granted in this weather it could just be a chill. He walks down the street sipping at his tea and trying to keep the warmth in.

Rorschach follows the kid down the street. Even if it proves to be nothing, it's better than just aimlessly wandering about for the next six hours before he heads back to the house. As he follows Dodger, there's just a flicker at the edge of the changeling's vision, something seen out of the corner of the eye before disappearing again.

It's the flickering that gets to him. He's pretty sure that his eyesight is fine - he can always spot out a mark without trying - so that flickering is annoying him. He reckons - he thinks - he might be being followed. Not exactly the best thing for one in his line of work.

So he slows down, meanders along the paths and looking in windows. Just make it seem like he's a kid who has to spend time outside till someone's back at home.

Rorschach follows Dodger as he slows down, moving from here to there without any real purpose in his gait. Some might find it dull, but after thirty years, Rorschach was used to the strange habits people possessed. It was all he could do, watch the world turn while he remained the same.

He projected himself again into the physical world around him, this time lasting just long enough for Dodger to turn and catch sight of him before disappearing again. Now he's just actively waiting for him to notice the ghost.

He spots the ghost but isn't quite sure what to do about it. Ghosts are... tricky, at least in the Dodger's experience. He's never been quite sure what he's doing when it comes to ghost. So he makes his way to a quieter alley and sits.

"Alright, you c'n stop with the tag-along act. I know yer there."

Well, now that he's been called out, he has to respond. Rorschach doesn't say anything as he slowly fades into existence, at first appearing transparent and fuzzy like he was being viewed through a pane of glass, then finally going solid as he was going to get.

He doesn't say anything as he stands there with his hands in his pockets. Even for a ghost, with his unusual mask, he stands out. The mask's inkblots move slowly in the cold, forming a jagged splat in the middle, before dividing in two, and taking off for opposite corners of Rorschach's face.

"So... mask?" the Dodger sips at his tea - cooling down but still enough warmth left in the half cup he's got left to get through. He might as well make polite conversation while he tries to figure out just why this ghost decided to make with the following.

Rorschach shrugs noncommittally at the question. Some would call it a mask. He prefers to think of it as his face. Either way, it's all the same to him. He still remains strangely silent, not ready to commit to a conversation just yet. Words were difficult sometimes.

"No answer about the stalking? Just because yer a ghost don't make it any less wrong, y'know." The Dodger said, pointing a finger in this silent ghost's direction. Honestly, being incoperal an' stalking people... What was the world comin' to?

"Not stalking." That finally gets a few words out of the ghost. His voice is just how one would expect a ghost in a mask to sound: all raspy and deep, like someone who's been gargling with nails. It's clear he doesn't get a chance to talk much. "Observing."

Yes, because there was such a big difference between the two.

"Right, an' the difference is you're getting paid to ... observe me," the Dodger said, more than a hint of cheek in his words. He looks over, raising his eyebrows. "An' that starts a bloke to wonder what's so interestin' about himself that he needs... observed."

"You're different." Rorschach hadn't yet been able to put his finger on why just yet exactly. It was something he could sense as a ghost, but not yet fully understand. He showed absolutely no signs of remorse for having followed Dodger around. As a ghost, this was the most exciting it had been all day.

"Different don't give you any right to stalk me," the Dodger's face held a deep scowl of annoyance. He hated being followed, it never sat right with him. And this one... being followed by a person was bad enough, being followed by a ghost might be one of the worst things ever. How could he get any graft done if someone was always watching him?

"Maybe. Don't care," Rorschach said dismissively, shoving his hands back into his pockets. He had never cared very much what people thought, either about him personally, or his methods for getting things done. He just always did what he wanted to, anyone else's feelings be damned. Considering Dodger looked suspicious to begin with, he was even less inclined to care about what the boy wanted.

"Well, ain't you pleasant?" the Dodger rolled his eyes. He couldn't do anything with this spectre following him around so he needed to work out a way to ditch the ghost.

"Completely," Rorschach said, his voice so dry already that it was easy to miss the sarcasm that was in it. With nothing better to do, he really would follow Dodger around until he managed to evade the specter. Such was the life of a bored ghost.

"You've got to have somethin' better to do than follow a kid around all day. Those what c'n see you be thinkin' something dodgy 'bout that." Listen, he didn't interact with ghosts much, he wasn't sure how to get one off his back. Bloody nuisance, so it was.

"No one sees me." Nobody ever noticed a ghost unless they were supernaturally inclined and even those people tended to avoid a ghost that looked like he didn't even possess a face. Dodger will need to make a better argument than that to get the stubborn ghost off of his tail.

"That don't mean you get to bother me."

"Yes, it does." Then he slowly begins to fade away again, turning transparent and misty. Dodger's going to have a ghostly companion haunting him for the rest of the day, but he won't interfere much. After all, what can he really do to stop him from thieving? Not much, that's for certain.

Still. It annoys him.

He really needs to work out how to ditch a ghost.

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The Times, They Are A-Changin' (OTA)

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