[ there's a lot of food. for awhile, marcos just walks around, never really buying anything though. he probably doesn't need it as badly as other people so he looks around mostly. sometimes, he stops and picks up a jar of something or other, sometimes the vendor tries to persuade him into buying just one or just two but he begs off each time.
it's not that he wouldn't like to buy but he's still living in the safehouse and there's new people coming in so might as well leave it for those that need to stock the food pantries. that's not his job. not anymore. ]
You want this!
[ marcos doesn't even get a chance to answer before there's a stall attendant pressing a huge container of pickles into his hands and patting him on the shoulder. he's so surprised that he doesn't immediately know what to do but stand there and hold the container. ]
Uh. [ but the vendor says it's on the house and then moves onto other customers. so, now he's the owner of some pickles. great. ]
002: DANCING
[ eventually, he ditches the pickles and finds himself sitting near the main stage, watching the dancing. it's relaxing, actually. an easy way to block out everything else that's going on in new amsterdam and act like he's at some show. there were shows like this in colombia and, every so often, before things had gone to hell, his father had taken him down to the local theatres to watch.
that...seems like so long ago. his mother's dead, his father's dead and he's here.
blowing out a breath, marcos watches as the dancers exit the stage for a break. it's not five minutes later, one of those dancers comes down from the stage and invites him up to try and learn the dance. he, once again, tries to beg off but no one in this city will take no for an answer so yeah, now he's onstage, trying to learn a dance with someone who's much, much more talented than he is.
he is going to step on some feet, he knows it.
thankfully, the dancer's break is short and he's escaping the stage and his dance lessons quickly enough. ]
003: SAFEHOUSE
[ there's a teddy bear at his feet.
it's late, marcos is tired, ready to fall into any spare bed or chair and there's a teddy bear at his feet, instantly transporting him elsewhere. to another time, another place. to a small child in his arms while he poured light over her. to white walls and a bassinet that looked comfortable but not cozy.
he takes a shuddery breath and reaches down to pick up the bear. it's old, battered. there aren't many children around here so he can only guess it might have been stowed away during one of these arrivals. crouching down, marcos picks up the bear and looks around, trying to find the owner.
there's no one around who looks the type to carry a bear so he just...puts it on the first counter he sees before swiping at his eyes and turning to go. there was nothing to be gained by thinking about this.
she was gone.
and so was he. ]
004: WILDCARD
[ feel free to choose your own adventure. hit me up at spoonishly for plotting. ]
marcos diaz | ota
[ there's a lot of food. for awhile, marcos just walks around, never really buying anything though. he probably doesn't need it as badly as other people so he looks around mostly. sometimes, he stops and picks up a jar of something or other, sometimes the vendor tries to persuade him into buying just one or just two but he begs off each time.
it's not that he wouldn't like to buy but he's still living in the safehouse and there's new people coming in so might as well leave it for those that need to stock the food pantries. that's not his job. not anymore. ]
You want this!
[ marcos doesn't even get a chance to answer before there's a stall attendant pressing a huge container of pickles into his hands and patting him on the shoulder. he's so surprised that he doesn't immediately know what to do but stand there and hold the container. ]
Uh. [ but the vendor says it's on the house and then moves onto other customers. so, now he's the owner of some pickles. great. ]
[ eventually, he ditches the pickles and finds himself sitting near the main stage, watching the dancing. it's relaxing, actually. an easy way to block out everything else that's going on in new amsterdam and act like he's at some show. there were shows like this in colombia and, every so often, before things had gone to hell, his father had taken him down to the local theatres to watch.
that...seems like so long ago. his mother's dead, his father's dead and he's here.
blowing out a breath, marcos watches as the dancers exit the stage for a break. it's not five minutes later, one of those dancers comes down from the stage and invites him up to try and learn the dance. he, once again, tries to beg off but no one in this city will take no for an answer so yeah, now he's onstage, trying to learn a dance with someone who's much, much more talented than he is.
he is going to step on some feet, he knows it.
thankfully, the dancer's break is short and he's escaping the stage and his dance lessons quickly enough. ]
[ there's a teddy bear at his feet.
it's late, marcos is tired, ready to fall into any spare bed or chair and there's a teddy bear at his feet, instantly transporting him elsewhere. to another time, another place. to a small child in his arms while he poured light over her. to white walls and a bassinet that looked comfortable but not cozy.
he takes a shuddery breath and reaches down to pick up the bear. it's old, battered. there aren't many children around here so he can only guess it might have been stowed away during one of these arrivals. crouching down, marcos picks up the bear and looks around, trying to find the owner.
there's no one around who looks the type to carry a bear so he just...puts it on the first counter he sees before swiping at his eyes and turning to go. there was nothing to be gained by thinking about this.
she was gone.
and so was he. ]
[ feel free to choose your own adventure. hit me up at