[sticky entry] Sticky: Sticky

ethnobotany: + alexander | i am so sorry i couldn't save him }{ ethics ({ confusing stars for satellites)

i wear my heart on my shirt

WHO: Beverly Crusher
WHERE: The Inn, her house, fountain square, the spring
WHEN: August 15-20
OPEN TO: every section is OTA
WARNINGS: Mentions of: death, terrorist attacks, being held hostage. She'll be having delirious flashbacks and I'll update warnings as needed based on threads.


August 15th is mostly a normal day for Beverly. The luncheon is nice, the only difference to her day. Otherwise, she spends the day at the hospital doing her duty or at her house, working in the garden or inside. It's while she's in the garden that she begins to notice how... off she feels. It isn't much at first, though she wobbles a bit when she tries to move and can often be found leaning over with her hands on her thighs and her eyes closed. Sometimes she's even very obviously leaning against the fence itself for support, and she isn't entirely sure she can manage to make it through.

Eventually, she manages to get back into the house. Just inside the door, she calls out, "Jean-Luc―" and falls to her knees on the floor.

The 16th hits her hard. Visitors may be welcome to stop by while she's sick, but she may or may not be lucid. During those lucid moments, she's chilled and feverish and very obviously ill, but she can at least hold a decent conversation. When she isn't lucid... less than pleasant may not accurately describe her condition. She paces when she can pull herself out of bed, and when Jean-Luc will allow her to. While stuck in bed, she rolls and tosses, not entirely aware of her surroundings, and can be heard mentioning something called the "Ansata" or "Cardassians" with a tone of distate mixed with fear. Someone lucky might even hear "Q" in a tone of quiet loathing. The unlucky may hear something else in a tone of cold and very real fear: "It's the Borg."

Early on the 17th, she starts escaping. It's never for long, but any time Jean-Luc needs to use the bathroom or make tea or food or check on her garden or even closes his eyes for half a second she takes the opportunity to flee. She's fast for someone who's as ill as she is. Clearly there's a lot of built-up energy inside her. Either that or she's literally running on empty and will drop to the ground in the next instant. Either way, she ends up in places like the Inn or fountain square. One time, she even makes it to the spring, where she ends up cooling herself off by swallowing a bit of it at some point. By the end of the day, she's back in bed.

For the 18th and 19th, she stays in bed for any visitors who might want to come by again, but this time Jean-Luc is stricter about her confinement. It's just as well, though she isn't in any frame of mind and hasn't the strength to escape again. By the 20th she has miraculously recovered and after lunch, she heads back to the Inn to see if she can find anyone who visited or might have heard that she was ill so she can reassure them that she's fine.

02. Someone isn't good at being sick

WHO: Baze Malbus and OTA
WHERE: Out and about, and then the inn
WHEN: August 16th and onwards
OPEN TO: Any and all
WARNINGS: Grumpy spaceman is grumpier than usual, plague is catchable if you want it to be

Yesterday he'd started to feel... off. Today, he definitely feels off, and it's more obviously in a "sick" kind of way. It's ridiculous. Baze hasn't been sick in years. Decades, even. So he ignores it, and continues doing his usual things-- prowling the forest setting snares, doing rebuilding on one of the various projects around the village, helping around the kitchen for mealtimes, sitting on the inn porch trying to whittle tree branches into some sort of bow-shape. It just all seems to take longer than usual, and it all leaves him exhausted and over-heated.

And itchy. That red patch on his back and stomach definitely itches, though he tries not to scratch at it.

It takes a couple of days of this, pushing himself through what he figures is just a cold, before the really awkward stuff sets in, like seeing storm troopers out of the corner of his eye only when he looks, they're not actually there. Or making the rounds on his snares twice because he's forgotten he already did it, and being annoyed at finding nothing there on the second round.

Or seeing Chirrut laughing at him from the next chair over, on the porch of the inn, interrupting Baze's staring tiredly at the latest attempt at a bow and not actually making any progress on it. "You're dead," he tells the apparition flatly, unaware if anyone is watching him. "And now I'm seeing things."

mingle | we have bread and fishes and a jug of.... well, herbal tea.

WHO: Kate Kelly
WHERE: The Inn
WHEN: 15th August | Noon
OPEN TO: E V E R Y O N E
WARNINGS: N/A
NOTES: All sections are completely free for all! You can handwave your character helping out or thread it out, or just jump in to them eating. All characters are ICly invited, as they are every day. In light of the illness plot, feel free to use this post as an excuse for your characters to catch ill or spread the plague around.
STATUS: Open and ongoing!




Rain, hail, shine; blizzard, earthquake or lightning storm, the meals at the Inn have continued. People can, and do, wander in at breakfast and supper - as long as the stores are enough for three meals, anyway - but the main meal remains the one at midday. It's this meal which is the main event that Kate structures her day around, making sure volunteers arrive to help prepare, serve, and then clean; double-checking that there is enough food for all, that stores aren't too low and that fresh greens have been gathered. With the village chickens now producing eggs regularly there's a welcome addition of protein to the foodstuffs, and by now there are a number of experienced cooks in the village. At least, experienced in the ways of cooking communally and with what's on hand.

The main room of the Inn is swept, dusted; cutlery and bowls, plates are laid out on the sideboards in piles to be collected as people need. Everything is as it should be, even if some people - Kate included - are feeling a bit under the weather. But that's to be expected, isn't it? Everyone gets run down, has a day or two of feeling off colour. Certainly, it's nothing to worry about.

So come on in, help at the kitchen or pull up a chair at a table and enjoy some warm food and company while the outside confusion stays firmly outside.
viridescere: (contemplative)

001 → all these things that i have done [open]

WHO: Oliver Queen
WHERE: fountain, 6I woods, border of 6I village
WHEN: 13 August - 16 August
OPEN TO: All (one locked starter)
WARNINGS: TBD



fountain (locked to Felicity)

Oliver doesn't expect the water. He's made his way onto a boat to try and save William from Chase, to try and make a play to save someone from a madman who doesn't play by the rules and he hopes that his team can figure out a way to survive on their own. They're savvy about this stuff now and if the island is rigged to blow, there's nobody better than Team Arrow to figure out how to defuse the situation both figuratively and literally. Oliver puts his faith in that because, otherwise, he's had to make one selfish choice to prevent the consequences of another and he doesn't like being put in that position.

He's not the same man he was ten years ago. He's not the same man he was five years ago. He's someone who weighs consequences, who knows that a final solution has lasting effects and that he cannot be judge, jury and executioner in all instances. He has to put his faith in the law and the blind scales of justice; he's different now than he used to be. He doesn't have to bear it all alone.

Still, he doesn't expect the water. He'd been int he boat moments before, making a play to save his son over everyone else and now he's in water and being pushed upward somehow. Oliver rides the swell, too out of it to really comprehend how he'd gotten from the boat to overboard and when he opens his eyes, he's shocked not to feel the salt of the ocean stinging them. Is that possible? None of this seems possible or likely.

When he breaks free, it takes him a few seconds to get his bearings. There's a fountain, a little park. He pushes himself up and over the lip of the fountain and collapses onto the ground, coughing up the last dredges of water burning his lungs.

This is not Lian Yu.

woods

As soon as he gets some semblance of self, Oliver heads for cover. If this is Lian Yu or another prison like it, he doesn't want to see other people until he knows exactly what to expect. He's not armed and he only has his brain and his fists to get him out of any trouble. While that's more than sufficient in most situations, he doesn't want to force an encounter if he doesn't have to. He wants to spend some time in the woods, wants to see the comings and goings, and then he wants to make a plan.

He'd bolted from the fountain to the woods almost immediately and luckily they're thick enough to provide good cover. He's found enough to eat by foraging but that's going to run out soon and without something to hunt with or clean with, he's not going to survive for long. He needs food, eventually, but he has a little time before he has to start making decisions on his belly.

When he hears a rustling in the woods beside him, he stops short and takes cover behind a tree, trying to see who or what it is. He's not exposing himself unless he has to; he's going to take any measures necessary to keep himself safe.

outskirts of village

After three days, his curiosity gets the better of him and he draws up closer to the buildings that serve as some sort of town center. Oliver has watched people come and go long enough to realize that this isn't a prison in the traditional sense. If it's a prison camp, that's one thing, but there's no shackles from what he can see and people can travel freely. There's nothing inherently dangerous, either, from what he's seen and he's hungry enough and desperate enough to draw close to the village and try to decide if he wants to join their society.

Who is the leader? Who are they loyal to? Is this another one of Adrian Chase's tricks? Oliver doesn't know. He can only trust in himself, for now, and anyone he knows from home. There's nothing else he can trust until he's vetted it with his own eyes and for now, he's going to be cautious. He doesn't want to reveal too much of himself or his skill - that's a great way to get a target on his head. Still, he steps out into the village and greets the first person he sees, tries to pretend like he hasn't been there hiding in the woods for three days.

It's a step.
ad_dicendum: (gestu)

† tam fratri pietatem quam patriae | OTA

WHO: Gaius Gracchus
WHERE: The Inn foyer, exploring 7I, the peach grove, and back at the Inn
WHEN: August 12
OPEN TO: Everyone
WARNINGS: None yet


morning of August 12 --> Inn foyer and outside

Gracchus had woken that morning to find another of the strange gift boxes outside his room. The last one had contained tunics, tablets, and styluses, and this time, he opens it to find an offering bowl, a small cup, incense, wine, and a stole that could be used for covering the head. Supplies for making offerings. Since he came here, he's had to rely on saving parts of his meal and leaving them with the little wooden figures he'd found. Now, he can do something properly. Not that there's a household altar here or anything like it, but there is an entrance space to the Inn that doesn't serve the same function as an atrium, but is at least in the same important location.

So before breakfast, he carefully washes and shaves, and murmurs the words of ritual cleansing, before he takes the figurines and the box he's just received down to the Inn's atrium. They're not his, not the little figures of the gods and his family kept in their lararium in his home back in Rome. But he's kept them since he found them here, because they would be enough, if he managed to get anything to make the offerings to his gods and his family that were a part of the life of every Roman head of household. He places the figurines and the offering-bowl on the edge of the desk, then places the stole over his head and shoulders. Then he holds out his hands in supplication as he begins the prayers: first to Janus, as is proper, but then to Neptune -- whatever Aristotle and the Greeks may say about the causes of earthquakes, there have been too many here, so many that a prayer and offering to Neptune seems wise -- and then on to the spirits of the household, whatsoever of them exist here. Last, he speaks to the spirits of his family: his father, his brother, and in their absence his mother, wife, and daughter. He pours wine into the cup, then into the offering-bowl, then sips it and invites the spirits to join him.

Later, after the ritual is finished, he sets the figures to one side, out of the way but still there, in the room, where they can perform their watch over the household, and takes the leftover wine in the offering bowl outside, to pour it reverentially into the ground.


later --> exploring 7I

He hadn't felt comfortable venturing out into the new area that had been uncovered by the earthquakes until now, but now that he's made a prayer and offering to Neptune, he dares the journey. Gracchus is dressed in one of his tunics, the most comfortable clothes he has here, but he's also carrying the strange pack that he'd been given when he first arrived. He has few supplies to carry with him, but he does want to bring a tablet with him in case there is anything that needs recording, since he doesn't think the whole area has been explored yet. He's heard tell of a sea that's been discovered, but he's just as interested in the land: lacking a boat, the sea isn't going to help them to escape, and he knows more about the use of the land than the sea.

It's strange finding himself in a mirror-image of the village that's been his home-in-exile in these past months, but while he's exploring, he pays attention to what he finds where, and after he's determined precisely how similar the village is, he decides to see what else is the same. There are other spots around the village he's used to that are important, and learning if they are the same or not may be significant to understanding more about this place.

It's when he gets to where he's expecting to find a spring bubbling into a deep, calm pool that he finds a major difference. Instead of the large clearing with the spring in it, there's a grove of unfamiliar trees, branching up towards the sky, some of them far beyond his head. The branches are laden with a fruit he's never seen before, round and reddish-gold, firm to the touch when he reaches up and picks one. His hand rests on the trunk of one of the trees as he looks up into its leaves, and a roughness under his palm makes him look down again. There's a symbol carved onto the trunk, one that's completely unfamiliar to him. It looks a little like a tree with a dangling branch, with a trunk and then some lines drawn across it, with another cut at an angle to the others. It's not Greek, and he wonders if it might be Egyptian, that strange language of pictures he'd heard of from some of his tutors.

Whatever it is, he carefully takes out his tablet and scratches a drawing of the sign onto the wax, before he starts picking the fruits.


evening --> back at the Inn

When Gracchus gets back to the Inn, it's with a pack full of fruits from the trees. He hasn't tried any himself, uncertain whether they're good to eat or not, but if they are, they should be a good supplement to the food stores here at the Inn, and Kate Kelly can probably use them. He heads for the main room, unsure whether or not he will have missed the evening meal. Whether it's past mealtime or not, that's usually the place where the most people can be found.

He takes one of the fruits out of his bag, and holds it out as he walks into the room.

"Excuse me," he says in English to the first person he meets, "do you recognize this?"


evening prayers --> he will be repeating prayers in the evening if your character wouldn't be at the Inn in the morning
71st_victor: (consider)

whistle while you axe

WHO: Johanna Mason
WHERE: Outside the Mill
WHEN: August 11th
OPEN TO: OTA
WARNINGS: n/a


The last few times that she's been out in the woods have been silent, solo jaunts, which means that her temporary friend had been just that -- another person who left, whether of his own volition or not, but isn't that just like home? Everyone goes away, no one sticks around. Whatever, it just means there's more for her, which is why she's working with a lot of firewood, to the point that she eases back on the cutting and starts to look at other uses.

She doesn't build with them, doesn't know any tricks to make them into a floor or a roof or anything else handy, but what she knows is making a weapon or two. She's been whittling using her axe, turning a large slab of redwood into several well-turned staffs of about six feet tall, careful to keep her work clean. She could (and should) put a point on one end, but she'll save those for hunting, for later. Some of these, she's just working on because she misses fighting and keeping her anger hot and boiling. Fists are fine, but no one wants to come after her with the axe in her hands, so she's been thinking about evening up the playing field with a few good blunt instruments.

Twisting the second now-finished staff, she eyes the handiwork with all its errors and flaws, shrugging when she doesn't really care how perfect it is, so much as it's done.

Tossing it into the finished pile, she reaches down for the remainder of the log, using the axe absently to throw all her weight into the strike, cutting it clean in half so that she can pin it down with her boot, prying it up to start on a third. Even if she doesn't end up finding someone who's willing to practice, at least Johanna intends to be well-stocked in weapons for whatever comes next.
3ofswords: (resolute)
[personal profile] 3ofswords2017-08-11 12:31 pm

[closed] i'll hold in these hands, all that remains

WHO: Kira Akiyama
WHERE: House 39, the Spring, House 52
WHEN: August 21 
OPEN TO: Credence, comment starter for Tim
WARNINGS: Grief, blood, interpersonal conflict; NSFW content with Tim


read more )

zomboligist: (oookay)

(no subject)

WHO: Ravi Chakrabarti
WHERE: Hospital / Casa di Helen & Mark
WHEN: Anytime between August 7 - 10
OPEN TO: Mark, Helen, Kira, Major
WARNINGS: n/a


It ought to be strange, really, taking your best friend from a world before and hiking him around for all your new friends to meet, but Ravi is somewhat determined to make sure that the people he feels closest to here really do like Major, especially seeing as he's going to end up picking up his life and moving in with him, mainly in an attempt to reclaim some of home again, but also because it's Major. How can he not move in with him and have incredible roomie shenanigans, again?

"They're going to love you," he vows, promising Major like he's the one who needs the pep talk instead of Ravi who needs a little bit of encouragement to sort of get over the fear that any of his friends are going to meet Major and, well, and not like him. He takes Major by the shoulders and stares at him like he's about to give him some sort of sports-related pep talk.

He doesn't, though, mainly because it would just make Major cringe and then Ravi would cringe with embarrassment and generally, it just wouldn't go over well. There's no time like the present, though, which is why he steers Major in the direction of the door, one hand draped around his shoulders like he's proudly showing off his latest creation (even if that sort of mad science has never been his bag of cats), plastering a broad smile on his face.

"Guess who has two thumbs and found a best friend?" he says, gesturing to himself, then to Major, then quickly back to himself. "I'd like to introduce you to Major Lilywhite. Yes, that is his name," Ravi says. "It's an unfortunate American thing, I think."
posilutely: (029)
[personal profile] posilutely2017-08-10 07:12 pm

Thank you for all the joy and pain; [1 Locked, 2 OTA]

WHO: Queenie Goldstein
WHERE: Various; see below
WHEN: ditto
OPEN TO: 1 locked, 2 OTA
WARNINGS: n/a


House #7 - Mid-Late July - Locked to Sonny


It's the locket that confirms it.

When it had first turned up, Tina hadn't been sure if she wanted to trust it, but she'd taking to wearing it anyway. Just like she'd done at home, there wasn't hardly a time when it wasn't around her neck. Queenie's been wandering the village for a couple days now, and seeing it laying there on Tina's vanity table is like a punch right to the gut, her last bit of hope swept clean away in the matter of a moment.

And with Jacob apparently gone, too, it just makes a sad sort of sense, even if it makes her heart hurt to think about.

From the first time she'd felt that tingle of worry, Queenie's been telling herself it's probably better. If Tina's got out, if she's got home, it's gonna be better for them all -- It has to be, right? If anybody can figure out how to bust them out of this place, it's Teenie.

And if they've made her forget, well... maybe that's better too. She hated it here.

But telling herself these things just ain't the same as believing them, and sitting on the front steps of Sonny's house in her new dress, she can't keep herself from crying.


Behind House #17 - Mid-Late August - OTA (3 thread limit)


The funny thing about Tina being gone is that Queenie knows exactly what she'd say about it: That Queenie oughta stay busy and just get on with it. And sure, there's days when she just wants to fall right down onto the floor and stay there wallowing in how empty the house feels now, or how she accidentally made lunch for two, but that voice in the back of her head is awful quick to give her a kick in the pants, just like Teen herself would do.

Some days it's tough to find enough to fill the day, though, and she's been trying some things she probably would be better off to just let alone.

Today, it's splitting firewood. To say she's awful at it without wand would be the understatement of at least two centuries.

She got herself an axe from the inn, but she can't seem to hit the wood at the right angle or hard enough. She's pinged herself with bits of bark at least 20 times, and in the hour she's been out behind the house, she's got exactly 3 pieces of firewood to show for it, and one of them barely counts, if she's honest about it.


7I Shore - Mid-Late August - OTA (3 thread limit)


All of a sudden, they've got themselves an ocean, and all Queenie can do is stare at it.

The beach ain't much good for sunbathing with all its little pebbles, and it takes her a good fifteen minutes just to find a place to put her towel down. But it's the water that's the bigger problem, lapping softly at the shore like it couldn't just swallow her right up if it wanted.

Dressed in her cut-offs and sleeveless shirt, she wades in to her ankles but then just stands there, staring first at the wide, hazy horizon, and then down at the water swirling around her feet.

"The Only Home I'll Ever Know"

WHO: Margaery Tyrell
WHERE: The Woods
WHEN: Shortly After Specimen Room
OPEN TO: Robb Stark
WARNINGS: Nothing so far


She walked the forest in a daze, her headache long gone, but replaced by a different sort of pain. Somewhere along the way back from the canyon, she and Jude parted. The news of what they found was not something she wanted to share, as she didn't understand much of the technology or what it meant completely. She only knew what the vials had left her feeling and that was lost. Hair and blood, not only of the villagers but of the animals they received. Even poor Gilbert was among them and that frightened her most of all. What was real? What was true? She had memories of Westeros, she still felt the warmth of the sun and the lush grass of Highgarden. She remembered how the Black Cells smelled and the sight of Loras huddled in the dark. She could simply reach back in her memories and she was there again, the weight of the Lannister cloak on her shoulders as she wed Joffery and Tommen's boyish eagerness during their wedding night. Was she real or created? Was something implanted in her or stolen?

All of the sweetness that she found in the village had become ash against her tongue and the beautiful sounds of the wood were dead against her ears. Only Gilbert caught her attention as he stopped and lifted his head to the wind. With a small excited bark, he raced through the underbrush and away from Margaery's side. Numb, she followed after him. Even if he wasn't real, even if he was created, he was hers and she couldn't bear to let go of the only thing that was holding her together.

It didn't take her long to find him, yipping and circling around the one person that could chase away all of this insanity. Robb. From the look of things, he was hunting. It should have occurred to her that it was early morning. The night in the canyon had not been pleasant and time had slipped away from her. Of course he would be hunting, as he did every day.

If Gilbert was holding her together, Robb was the foundation that kept her standing. He was home, the only home that could ever be hers. She looked ragged and exhausted, but her face and frame lightened as she approached him. She didn't say anything, only fell into his arms and clutched him tight against her. How could this not be real? She had never felt love before, but she knew it was strong and fierce within her. If they were created, they were created for each other. Others take the Observers, she needed and would guard this with all of the strength she could muster.

"I'm glad to see you."

[no amount of remembering the better things will make the bad ones go away]

WHO: Eddard Stark
WHERE: The Stark Family Cabin
WHEN: August 15 and onward
OPEN TO: OTA; feel free to jump in at any point during his halluciations.
WARNINGS: None; will updated as needed


It had started with redness of the skin, first on Ned's hands. It spread like blood-red ink across the paper of his skin, up his arm towards his shoulder, down his back, around his torso. It made decades'-old battles scars scarlet and renewed, the pain of touch excruciating, as though the wounds had only just been made. And then, the heat. At first, he thought it a continued byproduct of the summer temperatures, but it was the absence of perspiration that had drawn his brows together in confusion and realization: he had gotten ill.

Half a fortnight later, having spent the majority of the time bed-ridden and unable to leave the confines of his room, the visions had started.

He’d first seen his siblings’ faces: Brandon, Benjen, Lyanna. He imagined Brandon’s death, simultaneously feeling the constriction of his airways as Brandon tried to rescue their father, and wakes to a coughing fit while gasping for air. Benjen he imagined in black, half-human and half-crow, taking to the skies and soaring back to The Wall. Lyanna, he had seen bloodied and ghostly pale, her trembling hands leaving crimson paintings against his skin with every touch, while the rage and pain and impending loss stormed within him.

Second, Robert’s face - glossy-eyed and slender, the way he’d been when they’d grown alongside each other under the care of Jon Arryn. He imagined them wandering the grounds of the Eyrie, practicing their fighting with one another, Robert daring him to draw closer and closer to the Moon Door. His half of these fabricated conversations are audible to anyone near enough - even through the closed door of his chambers. None of it makes any sense, especially out of context, though it’d be easy enough for someone familiar enough to surmise that Robert was on his mind.

Next, he’d seen visions of Catelyn at their wedding; the hatred and betrayal in her face when he’d revealed to her that he had returned from war with a dark-haired babe in tow, a newly born Robb still in her arms, which she clutched tighter to her breast; the way she’d peer up at him as they lay under their furs and in each other’s arms with only the soft glow of the fire as their audience; when he’d last seen her, outside of Littlefinger’s brothel in King’s Landing, the blue scarf wrapped over her fiery crown. He reaches for her, when he imagines her with him, hands and fingers fumbling in the air for a woman who no longer exists.

Then, he’d seen each of his children at varying stages of their lives, from birth to the last he’d seen of them: Robb at Winterfell, when Ned had left for King’s Landing; Sansa when he’d knelt at the steps of the Great Sept, silently praying for her rescue; Arya when he’d spotted her in the crowd, crouching by Baelor the Blessed, doing the only thing he could to keep her safe by signaling Yoren to take her into his custody; Bran, unconscious in his bed, unsure if he’d ever open his eyes again; Rickon in the yard at Winterfell, too young to understand the weight of the world and his father’s departure beyond a glaring absence; and, though not a child of his own creation, Jon at the crossroads to King’s Landing and The Wall, promising to tell him about his mother upon their next meeting. These memories are strong enough to make a weakened, unwell Ned weep, crying out for the family from which he’d been taken, his feverish mind no longer remembering he has four of them still with him, whether by fate or by the blessings of the Old Gods.

He floats in and out of consciousness, back and forth between the world of Westeros he’d left behind and the world of the village - his second chance - though he cannot seem to convince himself that the latter exists. He wonders if he’s returned to the Children of the Forest, to the Old Gods themselves, to the Weirwood back in the Godswood of Winterfell. All the while, the skin affected by the rash blisters and reddens, leaving smears of blood on the linens underneath - though, if there is one light in the darkness, the intensity of his hallucinations seems to negate the pain from the rash, and he seems blissfully unaware of the sores.

(no subject)

WHO: Jean-Luc Picard
WHERE: The fountain and around town
WHEN: 8/4
OPEN TO: Everyone!
WARNINGS: None at the moment; will update as necessary



The Fountain

With first contact with the Vulcans successfully (re-)established, the trouble with the trouble with the Borg dealt with, and the timeline (presumably) set back on it's proper path, Picard had, generally speaking, assumed that they'd make their way back to the 24th century and whatever inquiry might be awaiting them. Instead, he comes to and finds that he can't breathe, eyes snapping open a moment later to find that he's underwater. Which explains the former, at least, but not why he's here instead of on the Enterprise. Which isn't to say that he has any significant complaints, when it means postponing what would almost certainly have been a visit from Temporal Investigations, but it's not anything that he can he'd be expecting either.

But there's no time to dwell on the fact. He might not know why he's ended up underwater - or where - but he can see light coming from above, and that's better than nothing.

He breaks the water's surface a moment later, coughing and blinking as he begins to haul himself out of the fountain. As beginnings go, he thinks to himself, it's not a terribly auspicious one. But he's alive, even if he feels half-drowned, and just at the moment, he'll take that.

Out and About

Once he's had some time to get his bearings - helped a little bit by an explanation from Beverly - and has figured out where he's going to be staying besides, Picard takes to the streets. Such as they are, anyway, but the point is more figuring out the lay of the land. And what they have to work with besides - explanation or no, he much rather prefers to actually see things himself. And if that also comes with the opportunity to talk to some of the people he hasn't already met.

The earthquake catches him off guard, small though it is, for all that it's mostly that he hadn't thought to expect any tectonic upheaval.

"Never a dull moment, I see."

He's not really directing the comment at anyone. But it's spoken loudly enough to be easily heard, and the last thing he's about to do is stop someone from chiming in if they should care to.
3ofswords: (Default)
[personal profile] 3ofswords2017-08-03 07:54 pm

[closed] hear the engine revving all the demons they survive it

WHO: Kira Akiyama
WHERE: Tim's house, general places in the canyon
WHEN: After Kira and Sonny pick peaches, date TBA.
OPEN TO: Tim Gutterson
WARNINGS: NSFW content is always possible, nothing immediately planned though.


It's been a couple of days since he put himself in Tim's path, or let himself be at the house to answer any calls.  The orientation house provides a distraction, a place most people wouldn't know him to be, but much as he's avoided the village at large before, he's never avoided Tim.  They'd spent entire days together after the quake, caginess washed away in light of Kira's cold, and after that week--well, he wasn't about to get kicked out of bed to walk home in the dark.

But now his power is back in pieces.  But now Margaery had picked up one of them, and given him a vision to worry about.  

The house felt easier to deal with.  It was down to just him, putting it together, and if something was going to happen to him, he'd need to get it as far along as possible for the next person.  Infrastructure is important, beds for new people, maps, a dedicated face and voice to deliver the most current information available.  Far too important to set aside for visiting some guy he's been having a good time with, so long as everything stays neatly in its lines.

He's as guilty of blurring them as anyone, but even that would be fine, no way of knowing how Tim feels about it unless he says something, and they'd all get home to hell frozen over before that happened.  But walking with Sonny had reminded him--connections are important.  Routines, projects, but also the little things.  A person to share a bed, a face you like the day better for having seen.  If Sonny is starting to slip in a place like this, there's no telling how much better Tim might fare.

As if to press the point about everyone's sanity, the box he'd taken to fill with rumored peaches had shown up that morning, another bottle of Grey Goose and a box of tea.  Knocking on Tim's door in the waning afternoon, he has the cardboard box looped under one arm, the bottle peeking over the edge, the space around it piled with his half of the haul.

It's a beat before Kira stops waiting for Tim to break the days of silence he himself created, remembers who he is, and shoves the door open without waiting for an answer.  "Come on," he calls to the house at large, "I brought you something."

(no subject)

WHO: Claire Bennet
WHERE: By the breach (small earthquake plot)
WHEN: August 3rd
OPEN TO: Jon Snow
WARNINGS: None at the moment



While they were nowhere near as strong as the original earthquake that rocked the village, Claire was still wary of the smaller ones happening but not enough to stick close to home. There were things that needed to be done and she knew it wouldn't matter where she was if another big earthquake happened again. It was just one of those things that you couldn't escape when it came.

So she decided to spend a day exploring the second village that had been found. She had left a message for Margaery and Erik at her place if either one of them decided to look for her and then off she went. Yes, she probably should have actually gotten someone to tag along with her but she didn't think too hard about it as she made her way through the tunnel.

Of course, she started kicking herself mentally when the first tremor rolled through the ground as she reached the other side. It was enough to make the world tremble around her, causing her to stumble and nearly lose her footing. Catching herself, she felt the trembling get worse and silently marveled for a moment at the noise it created. Not that she stayed still for long. She recognized the danger she was in if she stayed where she was and so she threw herself forward, running without hesitation out of the breach into the other village as the earthquake got worse.

Nearly falling, she whipped about just as she heard rocks falling behind her and watched in horror as the breach actually started to crumble in on itself.
ottimismo: (that god is love)
[personal profile] ottimismo2017-08-03 04:42 pm

[closed] smile, the worst is yet to come

WHO: Sonny Carisi
WHERE: House 11
WHEN: Forward dated to after the peach tree is discovered (will update with specific date later maybe?)
OPEN TO: Kira Akiyama
WARNINGS: Sonny's slowly enveloping depression and discussion of it



It feels as if the sun is up far to early, but in reality, Sonny's just stayed in bed far too late. Not slept, necessarily, but lay on top a nest of covers watching the crack in the curtains grow brighter and brighter. The moments pass, and he could probably lay here all day long, stubble scratching his cheek and neck, messy hair flopped in front of his eyes. He could lay here all day and wouldn't care, and ultimately, that's what finally pulls him out of bed. He's not blind to the hole he seems to be slipping into. It's daunting to fight it, but he's still doing it.

His morning routine is many hours late, not to mention painstaking, but Sonny drags him through each step of it. Washing his face, getting his teeth as clean as he can, smoothing his hair back, shaving his face. He dresses in overalls because they're the only thing that's clean, and begins to make his way to the inn.

First, he has to round up something to eat, but then he'll go to the church to pray. Praying doesn't seem to make a difference these days either, but he's holding onto his faith like it's all he has, the only thing keeping him afloat.

Between a few houses, back behind the inn, movement catches his eye. A bungalow that was once unoccupied looks like it's being fixed up. Sonny can only assume somebody new has shown up and is figuring out how to get their feet back under them. He likes new people — to because he likes seeing other people trapped here, but because the new ones usually stay determined to get back home for a little while. They're not as jaded. Sonny's not sure when he became one of the jaded ones, but he certainly doesn't like it.

He's nearly to the porch when someone steps outside again, and Sonny finds that it's not someone new at all. He blinks, surprised. "Kira? What're you doing back here?"

"What lies beyond? What lay before? Is anything certain in life?"

WHO: Margaery Tyrell
WHERE: The Specimen Room
WHEN: Aug 16 - 29
OPEN TO: Jude
WARNINGS: None I can think of.



White hot blinding light tore through Margaery's mind, jolting her out of bed and onto the floor. She pressed her hands to her eyes, trying to shut out the pain as flashes of images danced before her. The sweet images she had seen were gone, replaced by confusion and strange sights that turned her stomach. Her body seemed to spasm, the sounds of the forest clear and sharp against her ears. She was there, she could swear it. The warmth of the day surrounded her as the sun licked at her skin. She could feel Gilbert at her side, his barks echoing off the trees.

Flashes of green, brown and blue passed before, racing quickly as she followed a path. The route was obscured, but she felt certain she had seen it before. It was only when she came at the canyon wall that everything became a bit more clear. A quick succession of images passed, still but clearer than before. There was a cave in the wall, standing wide enough for someone to pass through. There was a strange room with glass walls. There was something resting behind them, but it was too bright to tell. As she tried to get a better look, everything disappeared and she was returned to her room, curled on the floor as she clutched her head. Despite the pain, one thought remained fixed in her consciousness:

There was something in the woods.

***


It was a ways to the canyon and there was a chance that she could get lost along the way, knowing how often the forest changed. She packed several supplies she might need, including food that could last her for several days, if rationed right. Gilbert would be at her side, big enough now to protect her against any creatures she might come across.

For extra measure, she left word with Sansa where she was going. Robb would worry and dislike her exploring the woods, but perhaps coming from Sansa, the news would be taken better? She left a note for Ned as well, asking him to tend to the animals and her garden while she was gone. There was no telling how long it would take.

Fear wasn't something she felt until she was much deeper in the woods and sounds seemed to be dulled by the brush. Each twig snap and rustle of the bushes left her unnerved. More than once, she thought there was someone at her heels, but brushed it aside as paranoia. Yet when the sun began to set, she became more than certain there was someone else nearby. Grabbing a fallen branch, she turned, holding herself ready in case something emerged, fangs and claws bared.

"Who's there?" She called out, Gilbert growling at her side. "Come out."

[closed] while i calculate and calibrate; don't make me explain

WHO: Jude Sullivan
WHERE: House 19; House 10; The Inn
WHEN: Early August, morning to evening
OPEN TO: Credence, Jax, and Samantha (see comment starters)
WARNINGS: May contain references to epilepsy symptoms


The journals have taken some doing, gathering or making enough materials, deciding how to put them together. They’re nothing as clean as the pads he picked up from the piles of supplies in the Hall, but they’re functional. The paper takes his pencils, the binding holds when he opens and closes the covers, folds open pages.

For how long, he can’t be sure, but it’s not like anyone’s buying the things from him.

After a couple of dry afternoons on his porch--after getting the house sorted; after staking the sheets into the yard and finding a few more window screens on houses too far gone to matter to anyone; after boiling every bit of leaf litter and shredded cloth as he could--Jude has three journals to show for it. They’re thick with hand-torn pages, enclosed in old encyclopedia covers recovered from the ruins of the school, and bound with a combination of rubber tree sap and braided grass. He’d had to punch the holes with a skewer from the kitchen, and they’re still a little rough at the edges--all of it’s a bit rough at the edges, but he kind of likes that about them.

Now he just has to track down the people they belong to.

11 - Lost Heart [OPEN]

WHO: Moana
WHERE: 7I – Ocean
WHEN: August 3rd
OPEN TO: EVERYONE
WARNINGS: None



Sad Thoughts & Losses

Small earthquakes had begun to tremble through the two villages but Moana didn't pay them any attention. She crossed the breach and made her way towards the ocean that rested on the other side, hoping to find a friend waiting for her.

She stood at the shore, her feet bare while the wind tugged softly at her grass skirts. There was so much that Moana wanted to ask the ocean but she couldn't find her voice. She knew that it wouldn't reply to her, she was too far from the home that she knew. Frustration rose in her chest and she kicked at the water, sending thick droplets into the air around her.

"Why aren't you here!?" She yelled at the water before falling to her hands and knees. Everything hit her at once: the loss of her friends, the loss of the heart and the constant reminder of her failure that hung like a beacon around her neck. Moana began to cry softly, her body shaking as the tears streamed freely down her cheeks.

"I need you." She whispered to the ocean, her voice soft as she begged for some way to escape the crushing defeat that weighed heavily on her shoulders.
babyhunter: (Default)
[personal profile] babyhunter2017-08-01 01:07 pm

001 - Adding a bit more Flourish to it - [OPEN]

WHO: Clary Fray
WHERE: Fountain & Village & River
WHEN: August 1st to August 6th
OPEN TO: EVERYONE
WARNINGS: Drowning? (Note: Scrub color is black.)



Fountain: Arrival [Aug 1]

Clary inhaled, feeling a cool rush of water fill her lungs. Her chest burned while panic tightly constricted around her heart. She flailed wildly in the water, kicking her arms and legs out in a futile effort to swim. The water stung her eyes when she tried to open them. Clary had always hated opening her eyes underwater but she needed to see.

'I need to breathe! She thought, forcing herself to calm down enough to escape a rather pathetic watery death. After everything she's been through, she's not going to have 'death by water' on her tombstone. Clary saw a blurry smudge of light in the distance and swam towards it.

She broke the surface of the water, coughing and gasping for air. Bright orange hair plastered to her cheeks and neck as she made her way to the fountain's ledge.

It was only when she was pulling herself over the edge of the fountain that she felt the weight of the pack on her back. A groan of complaint vibrated through her torso, even as she managed to tumble herself and the backpack onto the pavement. Clary was laying on her back. The backpack was a surprisingly comfortable pillow though that might have just been in comparison to the water. The sun shined pleasantly in the sky, warming her limbs and face.

Clary decided that it wasn't worth getting up. She'd happily lay there until someone told her to move. Maybe she was in central park? That's the only place that she can think of with a fountain. Either way, Clary knew that someone would find her and she'd sort it out then.


Around the 6I Village [Aug 2-4]

Clary really didn't know what to think of this place. She had named the village Salem in her mind, the broken buildings and dreary feeling reminded her of a town where hundreds of girls burned at the stake. It probably wasn't the best name but the village was surprisingly less daunting with a name attached to it.

She wound her way through the houses, inspecting the ones that were broken and then knocking at the homes that looked like someone lived there. If no one replied, she'd peak inside to see what was there. Clary was naturally curious and not at all shy or hindered by the unknown. This wasn't nearly as scary as trying to get Simon out of the Hotel Dumort.

Clary would take the time to stop and stare at the houses or setting around her. She tried to figure out how she'd draw it: what colors she would use or how certain objects might appear out of focus. At the end of each day, she'd find herself at the inn, usually hungry and sitting at the bar like a ghost might come and take her order.

She was new at this whole survival thing and Brooklyn had pizza. She really missed pizza.


At the River [Aug 5]

Clary was both happy and sad to see Izzy in the village with her. She was happy to see her friend and to know that she wasn't alone but it also made her think about home. How was her mother doing? And Simon? What about Jace? She wondered if any of them missed her. She didn't particularly worry about Alec missing her; he was with Magnus and starting towards his happiness.

She missed her sketchbook. It gave her the ability to get all of her worries out of her head and onto a piece of paper. Without it, her thoughts jumbled together in a messy knot that she didn't know how to untangle. A groan pulled from Clary's lips as she took a seat near the water's edge. She watched the waves for a few seconds before pulling off her scrubs and jumping in.

Clary hadn't been in water since almost drowning in the fountain a few days before and as much as she wanted to avoid it, she felt gross. She had never gone this long without a shower. After drenching herself in water, she floated lazily on the surface of the river.

"This place feels too much like the Twilight Zone." She mumbled to no one in particular.


The Breach Between 6I and 7I: Small Earthquake [Aug 6]

Clary first heard about the mysterious second village at the inn, when she had eavesdropped on two people discussing their plans to cross the breach. She hadn't asked about it then but she couldn't stop thinking of the possibilities that lay on the other side of the ridge. Peeked by her curiosity and her ever-rampant thoughts, Clary decided to head to the breach to check it out for herself.

She wasn't completely unfamiliar with bouldering but the path was not as clear as she thought it would be. She took careful steps over small rocks and then slipping between larger boulders that stood like giants in the path.

Clary was halfway through the breach when the earth began to shake. She'd gotten used to the small tremors over the last few days but she hadn't been standing in a small crevasse in the ground back then. A surprised scream tore from her throat as she ran back the way she had come. Peddles and rocks loosened from above her, falling on her head like rain drops falling from the sky.

She ran out of the breach, stumbling to the ground as the earthquake ended. Clary's head was shaking as she tried to regain her balance. She tasted blood in her mouth and felt a soft sting along her cheek. If she had managed to get out of that with a bloody lip and a few thin cuts then she was happy.

"Okay. Maybe I won't go that way." Clary was talking to the rocks and seriously hoping that they could feel her displeasure.

ψ I knew you were trouble when you walked in | OPEN

WHO: Finnick Odair + his peacock
WHERE: The 6I park
WHEN: August 3
OPEN TO: EVERYONE
WARNINGS: Baby peacock being ridiculous. Probably mentions of mental health and anxiety later on.



he's a peacock, a total preener --> fountain park


There's been an escape.

There'd been another aftershock, and after he'd calmed Annie down, Finnick had gone outside to check on the birds, only to find another hole in the fence. He'd thought he'd patched it up before he'd gone back to Annie, but he's come out again to find that Star, the oldest of the peacocks, is on the other side of the fence, and making his determined way down the path towards the village.

Finnick curses and turns, rapidly, to pull open the door of the house and shout in to Annie.

"Star's gotten out, can you check the fence?"

He doesn't wait for an answer, only hopes she's heard him before he's off down the road after the blue and brown bird. Hearing Finnick behind him prompts the bird to take off, skimming low over the bushes at the side of the road and leaving Finnick to chase after him.

They're halfway to the village by the time Star lands again, and the bird doesn't seem inclined to let Finnick catch up. Every time he gets close enough to reach out to catch the bird, Star flutters away out of reach and continues on down the path. They've made it all the way to the park before Star finally stops trying to actually run away and starts contentedly pecking at the grass, looking for something to eat. Finnick gives up the pursuit, too, and sits down on the edge of the fountain.

Perhaps he should consider trying to make some sort of leash or harness for the bird so he can't get away. He always carries some of the nylon cable he'd acquired around with him, so he'd be able to, but he's not sure about whether it's even possible to leash a bird. The propaganda films at home about agriculture in District 10 had never said much about poultry.

While Finnick watches, Star stares at the fountain, then turns around, slowly, holding out its wings, tail held straight up in the air. His tail is quivering, displaying the stubs of feathers that haven't yet grown in.

"You've got a while before you'll make it in the Capitol," Finnick says, eyeing the bird.