Once trapped in linearity, Lualdi now lives its grim past, its torrential present, and its cataclysmic future all at once. Second by second, the region marches towards a seemingly inevitable apocalypse that is shrouded in enigma not for what it will do, but why. The answers to the mysteries surrounding the impending calamity may lie deeper in the reaches of time than any may expect -- and somewhere with them is the answer to if Lualdi can even be saved or if it should be abandoned to its fate. But whatever you do, do so quickly... The apocalypse will not wait for you to make up your mind.
No name? Rhee frowns at the answer. Either this was some sort of strange ancient custom involving identity, or the girl was trying to hide something. But what? She had mentioned being a runaway slave. Was she worried that someone knowing her name would make her easier to find? If that was the case, then she should have held her tongue before.
Rhee steps over a small snowbank, probably dislodged from another time portal. Even though it's likely been sitting out in the sun all day, there's no sign of it melting anywhere. Procyon pauses to sniff it, and he sneezes when snow gets on his nose. He hastens to catch up to the rest of the group, looking up as Nameless extends her arm. When Nameless holds out the notepad again, Rhee takes it back carefully. She stares at the previous page and mulls over Nameless' answer. Quickly, she writes out a new one and hands the notepad back to Nameless.
'If you're from the time I think you are,' begins the note, 'then Domorto's current state happened long after you would have lived. There was a war in Mortand, and everything just stopped growing. It's been like this for a long time now. Everywhere in Domorto looks like this.
'You sound like you lived around here if you are familiar with what it used to look like. Is that right?'
The word 'familiar' has a phonetic guide scrawled in the margin next to it.
Nameless silently takes the notepad once more as she trudges along, squinting and quietly sounding out the words to herself as she reads. She's more alert of her surroundings this time, carefully navigating herself around the various bits of temporally displaced debris that litters the area. Eyes flits lazily along with her, occasionally opening his eyes to make sure he hasn't drifted too far away from her.
Her reading complete, Nameless hesitates before passing the notebook back to Rhee. Her homeland was now a wasteland. She'll never get to see it again...
...Fine. Good riddance.
"...I'm a Mortander," she hesitantly explains. She supposes divulging information to this... girl from the future couldn't hurt. She's been nothing but helpful. "On my tenth birthday, I was sold to a Renner lord." Nameless reaches a hand up to tug at her chained collar, glaring down at it as best she can. "...I had a real name, once. I forgot it. They gave me a new one to suit my... role."
For emphasis, she turns her head and spits onto the ground, a small amount of blood going with it. "...Bastards, all of them."
Rhee stares at Nameless as she tells the story, expressionless except for a slight frown and furrowed brow. Barbaric is the first word that comes to mind for what she's telling her. Putting manacles on people and taking away their names, selling children into slavery. Modern Lualdi isn't spotless, but at least it doesn't do things like legalize child slavery. She'll probably be relieved to hear that, Rhee supposes as she writes. On finishing the note, she glances up. They're almost out of Time's Scar, approaching the deserted suburbs around Trizzica D'Crocio. If memory serves, the bus that brought Rhee to the outskirts of the city will still be going at this hour...
She hands off the notebook to Nameless. Either way, they have time to fill and information to fill in, more importantly.
'Slavery is illegal (not allowed) on all of Lualdi, which is the name of the whole island we're on. I'm sure you can find someone to remove the collar, too. You lucked out by ending up here. You get to start a new life. Get yourself a new name, and it can be like your past never happened.'
The writing, like the intended tone, is curt and to the point. Rhee waits for Nameless to finish reading -- an easy thing to judge from how she reads aloud -- and holds out her hand to take back the notebook.
Nameless takes the notepad with a small nod, grateful at least that Rhee's body language conveyed at least some small amount of disgust. No one should ever have to be a slave. She turns her attention to the notepad, murmuring the words to herself -- with a small pause to mutter about how she knows what 'illegal' means -- before she passes it back off to Rhee. Best to give it back to her faster so that can start writing earlier, if she wants. Besides, it feels... wrong keep the girl's only means of communicating for longer than is necessary. She was going to need her help, regardless. No reason to risk irritating her by holding onto it for too long...
Nameless pauses mid-step, unsure of how to word the thoughts rapidly flitting through her head. Suddenly her whole life was full of... possibilities. She had been resigned to death, but now... She really does have a chance to put her past behind her. She can finally be someone.
"If you have to call me something, Nameless works fine," she slowly replies. "Names in Rennerland were profession-based. Being a runaway slave probably counts." She pauses again, suddenly acutely aware of the whole of her situation. She still had nowhere to go, no way to earn a living, no real belongings...
"...Look, I'm going to get right to the point, here. I didn't have anything in Rennerland, and I definitely don't have anything here," she begins, still unsure of exactly how she was supposed to word her imminent request but apparently deciding 'stream of consciousness' was the best way to go about it. So much for getting right to the point, she tells herself.
"I'm... probably going to need to stay with you. At least for a while."
She winces as soon as the words leave her throat. She was already imposing so much on this girl. "I can take care of myself," she hurriedly adds. "I just... don't know anything about this time. Or place. Whatever. I'll... pay you back, somehow. However you want. Within reason." Hopefully this wouldn't just be trading one form of indentured servitude for another. Rhee did say that slavery was illegal...
As Nameless babbles, Rhee dismissively waves her hand, pen clutched between her fingers, and shakes her head. She commits the pen to paper again and writes out a quick response for Nameless.
'I honestly live by myself with Procyon in a boarded-up building. There's enough space for another person. Stop freaking out. I just have bills (like taxes -- things I have to pay to the government) to pay, so you can help with those while you stay. I'm not going to force you to work for me or something like that. I need money, not servants. And you can leave after whatever you borrow is paid off.
'The city has enough empty buildings because of people running away from Time's Scar. After you get yourself settled in and pay off whatever you need to, it'll be easy for you to find your own place. I doubt you'll have trouble staking your claim somewhere seeing as you tried to attack my Growlithe.'
Procyon whuffs softly, and Rhee sidesteps what could've been the engine of a car if it weren't so rusted over and broken down. She watches it as they walk past -- the metal as grey as the drab soil dimly shining in the fading sunlight -- before turning back straight ahead. They're getting closer to the outskirts of the city now; she can see lights flickering on, the rare few this close to Time's Scar that haven't abandoned their homes. Once she hears Nameless get to the end of the note, she turns back to gauge her for a reaction.
Nameless seems a bit worried at Rhee's dismissal of her concerns, awkwardly watching the various bits of strewn about technology she's unfamiliar with as she waits for the response. She takes the notepad with a small nod, beginning to read once more...
Her eyebrow raises almost immediately. Rhee is... far more trusting of her than she probably should be, considering she had just met her. What if she was some sort of a bandit? Once she was recovered she could just take over Rhee's home by force...
She shakes her head and passes the notebook back over. She tugs on one of her gloves meaningfully. "They're laced with Dominus. We're... expected to be able to hold our own against beasts. Physically and mentally. We--" She sighs and closes her eyes. She's not in Rennerland anymore. "Rennerland borders Ceman, and their beasts are the most dangerous of all." She glances at Procyon, her expression unreadable, but... seeming to soften a little bit, at least. "...A Cemani monster wasn't something I wanted to see when I'm vulnerable."
Rhee rolls her eyes at Nameless calling Procyon a "monster"; it's hard to think of a less fitting word for the Growlithe still frolicking around them. She takes back the notebook, dimly registering the sandy wasteland giving way to sidewalks and concrete. Abandoned buildings, most of them boarded up, line the streets, and Rhee squints at the lights ahead in the dimming light of dusk. Without even thinking of her company, Rhee points straight ahead. Procyon barks -- probably due to recognizing it as a sign of "home soon". It's only after a beat that Rhee realizes that the dim grumble of the bus' idling engine and the flickering headlights will mean nothing to Nameless. She blows a strand of hair out of her face. Automobiles will be complicated to explain...
Still, she makes an attempt, writing quickly and handing off the notebook to Nameless again.
'That is a machine that people control. It's called a bus, and it'll bring us close to where I live. It's faster than walking, so you can rest, too. It's like a carriage pulled by another Pokémon creature.'
Hopefully carriages existed in medieval Rennerland... Rhee starts fishing through her pockets for change for the bus fare. Figures that she's paying for two today... Once she gets the notebook back, she'll have to make a note to add that to Nameless' debt to her.