thekittenqueen: ([Margaery] Seated (Somber))
[personal profile] thekittenqueen
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."
learned_to_die: <lj user="buckybear"> ([look] ill/wounded)
[personal profile] learned_to_die
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.
thekittenqueen: ([Margaery] Thoughtful (Concerned))
[personal profile] thekittenqueen
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."
catchallthecats: (It's alright if you do it's fine)
[personal profile] catchallthecats
WHO: Arya
WHERE: The fountain, around town
WHEN: 7/23, mid-afternoon to evening
OPEN TO: All
WARNINGS: N/A



The Fountain
At least this time it wasn’t freezing out.

That didn’t stop Arya from cursing a blue streak as she was spluttering and grabbing onto the edge of the fountain to heave herself out, water splattering across the stonework as she pushed herself back to sit for the moment, taking stock of herself. Once she was convinced she was in one piece she moved to her feet, stopping only to lean back into the fountain to fish out the pack bobbing on the water’s surface.

She gave the bag a shake that sent water flying in fat droplets before slinging it over a shoulder by the strap. As she walked, she was dividing her attention for the moment between squeezing water out of her hair and scanning the area for familiar faces.

House #28
“Hello?”

She didn’t bother knocking, just pushing the front door open to walk in. Either her family still lived here and all was well, or someone else did and things would get awkward quickly. But if that was the case, Arya honestly didn’t care. The only thing that made her being yanked to this strange place again was that so much of her family was there, especially those that they’d never see again back in Westeros. She simply didn’t know what she’d do if they’d gone since then.

“Is anyone here?”
thekittenqueen: ([Margaery] Watches (Tender))
[personal profile] thekittenqueen
WHO: Margaery
WHERE: The Inn
WHEN: 7/21
OPEN TO: All
WARNINGS: None



It wasn't something many would accept or celebrate, given how this was seen as a curse to some or a prison to others. While there were difficulties and, quite often, chaos, this place was her home. She couldn't return to Westeros and, for all that she suffered here, she had come to love her life in the village. She and Robb had discussed the idea of happiness and whether or not it was possible. Near a month since then, she felt certain of the answer, reflecting it as she rose from bed to let her animals out to graze.

Maybe she had found happiness? She was alive and had something to herself, something pure and away from the politics of Westeros. It might be small and insignificant compared to a crown, but it was truly hers. Her animals, her crops, they were enough to keep her going during the days. But it was those she had come to know here and care for that brought her genuine joy.

After putting her animals away, she gathered her fresh harvest, creating a large fruit platter for everyone. Spread across were peaches, apples, blackberries, blueberries, strawberries, grapes and cherries, grown to that perfect point where there was a mix of tart and sweet. She set the fruit out at the inn, offering a bit to anyone that entered. Seated near the window with Gilbert at her feet and a bit of sewing in her lap, she turned to regard the person that came to join her.

"I have been here a year," she murmured. "I didn't think it right not to find some way to celebrate."
beallmysins: (Default)
[personal profile] beallmysins
WHO: Jax Teller
WHERE: House #10, Inn, river
WHEN: 1 July - 9 July
OPEN TO: all
WARNINGS: Jax is his own warning. Language, for sure. Probably going to be sex eventually, knowing him.



i. doin' the best i can (house 10, 1 july)

Jax is on the roof when the ground starts shaking. Being from California, he's no stranger to earthquakes, though they're a lot worse down south than in the valley where he's from. Still, he's familiar enough with them to know he doesn't want to be on a fucking roof repairing shingles when one hits and as soon as he feels the first waves, he scrambles down as fast as he can. He's quick but he's not quick enough to escape harm - he scrapes his shin and bangs the ribs on the same side he'd injured several weeks ago.

Fuck, he hisses, hitting the ground and heading to clear ground as fast as he can. The earthquake isn't anything they can control but he knows the best place to be is as far away from structures as he can get and just wait it out. There'll be aftershocks but those won't be as bad as the initial - this is always the worst part.

It's just a few minutes, all told, but it feels like hours. The world seems to stop when the earth starts to move and when it ceases, the sky opens up and rain begins to fall. It's been dry for weeks and the sun's been all fucked up so the rain is a welcome sight, steam rising up from the ground from just how goddamn hot it'd been before the quake.

Jax limps his way back toward the town, favoring his right leg and trying to keep from slipping on dirt paths that are rapidly becoming mud because he's got to have a drink and a doctor and he thinks the drink could replace the doctor if it's a good enough drink.

ii. and when it's time for leavin' (inn, 2 July - 9 July)

One of the things that Jax has in abundance is the ability to do labor and now that there's houses damaged from the earthquake, he's got something worth trading. He's not a jack of all trades like Moana but he makes do with what he has and if they've got the tools, he's got the strong back and the know how to do most things that a house needs.

The Inn is the best place to go and see if someone needs work so he hauls his ass up there every morning for breakfast and to offer his services. Now that the days and nights are actually separate and not one long stretch of sunlight that only changes in hue from yellow to red he's feeling a lot better than he has in a month or so; that never-setting sun shit had been getting old and he's happy to see the rain and the sun and the twinkling of the stars and moon at night. It's simple shit, yes, but it's a sign that this place is returning to some sort of normal.

The first two days he parks at the Inn, he doesn't have much to do. It's pouring rain and there's no way he can get anything done when he can't see his hand in front of his face. By the third day, though, not only has the sun come back but it's not so goddamn hot and he thinks he can get a real start on helping get some of the houses back into working order. There's plenty of things he can do that others might not be able to and he knows there's shit that other people are able to do that he can't; Moana's living proof of that.

He's taken to sitting out on the front porch of the Inn when the weather's good, making his offer for labor as people walk in and out.

iii. a good time down on the bayou (river, 4 July - 9 July)

After a long day of fixing roofs and figuring out how best to repair collapsed porches, Jax likes to bathe off down in the river. The days of rain have brought it up a little and it looks a lot better than it had a few weeks ago even though it still needs some more rain to get back up to the levels it'd been before the drought. The water's cool here and flows in a way the water up at the waterfall doesn't so he prefers taking a dunk down here before heading back home.

Sure, he's got a bathtub like everyone else but the dirt and the grime he's been accumulating while working on houses means he'll end up having to clean his tub out four times a week and he doesn't have time for that shit. He'd rather wash off in the river and save the bath for in the morning when he washes his hair and gets his shave.

He's not shy about using the river, either. Plenty of people come down here to bathe and he's hardly the first to strip down and take advantage of the water to cool off after a long day. He ducks under the water and holds his breath for a few long minutes, just letting his mind focus on the sound of his own heartbeat before popping back up, water sluicing down his bare back and arms.
thekittenqueen: ([Margaery] Desperate)
[personal profile] thekittenqueen
WHO: Margaery and Robb
WHERE: Bunglaow #4
WHEN: July 1
OPEN TO: Robb Stark
WARNINGS: Mentions of death, destruction, wildfire, etc.



Margaery's garden had accelerated in growth quickly. Within only a few months, she had blooming roses and an abundance of fruit trees. There was a sweet perfume in the air when she woke each morning, reminiscent to her childhood in High Garden. That world that seemed so distant to her, more like a dream than reality, had become more tangible as each blossom unfolded and filled her senses. She didn't need to search among the brushes and bushes for wild strawberries, ripe and small. All she needed to do was walk into her garden and harvest those that had grown.

It was the cotton though that had her focus that afternoon. Deciding against gloves, Margaery picked the cotton as best as she was able. There were cuts, but nothing worse than her work tilling the fields. Her mind filled with thoughts of the things she could make and weave with cotton, the new fabrics that would be available to them. They were in a different state now when they arrived. So many luxuries were available to them that seemed impossible before. Perhaps if she was fortunate, the observers might send silk worms?

The day was quiet, reminding her of the summer when she first arrived. While the heat was difficult, it was largely ignored. It was too beautiful to spend inside. The blue sky was dazzling and she wanted to stare out over the landscape. She was pushing a curl back from her brow when a familiar rumble rolled beneath her feet.

Her blood went cold as that fleeting warning shifted, breaking into a violent quake. She cried out loudly, instinctively reaching for Loras. STAY WITH ME! The world seemed to turn green before her eyes, that familiar heat and pain present in her mind. Was it fear that made her feel wildfire on her skin or was it bursting beneath her again?

She collapsed to the ground, drawing her knees to her chest as she watched her fruit trees sway wildly. Fruit fell to the ground, some of the peaches bursting, spilling juice across the grass. The sweet smell now mixed with the sickening scent of burnt flesh. She forced her eyes open, refusing to close them and see the images of the Sept bathed in green.

She was trembling after the earthquake passed, mistaking her body's tremors for the shaking of the ground. She was locked in place, rigid and stiff. Her heart hammered wildly in her chest. She wasn't one to faint, but she felt that urge race through her. Gods, not again.
thekittenqueen: ([Margaery] Considers)
[personal profile] thekittenqueen
WHO: Margaery Tyrell
WHERE: Outside The Police Station
WHEN: 6/18
OPEN TO: All
WARNINGS: None, save animal birth. (Nothing graphic)
STATUS: Open



Margaery had read the book she was given by Kate to prepare for the birth of her cow. Over and over again she had read the words until she had them nearly memorized. She knew what to do in her mind, but when the time came, she found herself at a loss. All she could do was sit back and let nature lead the way. It was a gruesome process, different than she had imagined, but still strangely beautiful. It was only when the calf was finally free and wobbling over the grass that Margaery let out a breath.

She stroked her cow's nose, whispering words of encouragement and praise to her. The hard work was over and she had been as strong as any woman Margaery had known. While her cow rested and regained her strength, Margaery carefully cleaned the calf, another girl and one needing a name (however unwise that might be). They would at least have milk in the village.

She spied someone nearby, watching the three of them in the fields. She beckoned the person over with a warm expression. "Come see."
learned_to_die: <lj user="buckybear"> ([look] weirwood)
[personal profile] learned_to_die
WHO: Eddard Stark
WHERE: In the woods near the Stark cabin.
WHEN: June 13
OPEN TO: OTA
WARNINGS: None; will update as needed.
STATUS: Yes


It had arrived in a box.

Ned had carried it to his room, careful and gentle, and left it at the foot of his bed until he'd returned to the house later that afternoon. He's received the mysterious gifts before - a cloak, some gloves, other assorted items - but this was a strange sort of weight. Neither heavy nor light, not muted in sound the way the clothes had been. And tall. The box had been taller than the others he'd received, and for a time upon his return, Ned eyed the thing with careful precision and consideration before even laying another finger on it.

He finds his movements, his very breath to be more laborious than normal in light of the sudden disappearance of his youngest daughter. He'd woken one morning to find simply that she'd vanished, seemingly evaporated into nothingness. He'd been warned many times over that such an event could take place and did take place with some regularity, but - he'd foolishly thought his family to be immune. Certainly, given the what they'd gone through, given the pain and suffering they'd already endured, the Old Gods would not see fit to separate them once more.

What a fool he'd been.

After some deliberation and quiet self-muttering, when he feels the time of curiosity and thought has passed, he removes the lid, peering down into the chamber. His brows lift with surprise, eyes alight for the first time in days with intrigue and something vaguely resembling happiness. He reaches out and pulls out a neatly bundled sapling. To those not of Westeros, it might appear to be any other tree - something similar to birch, as he's learned, but to those from his homeland, they'd know the sight of a Weirwood immediately.

He perches himself on the end of his bed as he inspects it, slowly turning it in his hands. It feels real, true. There aren't any illusions he can find. He worries for a moment that having kept it in the box for so many hours might've damaged or dried out the roots, so - now, with a focal point outside of the grief and mourning he carries with him in his broken, shattered heart - he hesitates not a second longer before making his way outside of the cabin and a bit further down the path, where there are no more cabins to be found. He knows that, over time, the thing will grow great and strong - he needn't encroach on his neighbor's territory, even in the name of the Old Gods.

Ned places the sapling on the ground carefully before leaving and returning with a variety of tools: namely, spades of different lengths and sizes. At once, he pours his sorrow into the repeated piercing of the earth and displacing of soil, cursing the Old Gods under his breath for leaving him a weirwood instead of his daughter.
pretendtoneedme: (crossing the fields)
[personal profile] pretendtoneedme
WHO: Everyone! It's a mingle!
WHERE: The mill, and the river next to the mill
WHEN: June 13-14
OPEN TO: Anyone! Tag around, tag in, tag things!
WARNINGS: Nothing for now, please warn for content in comment titles
STATUS: All of the Opens



Word had spread in the usual way, one person mentioned it to another, that person mentioned it to a third, and fourth, and so forth and so on. The mill's almost repaired - or, more specifically, it's reached the point where it needs more than one person working on it in order to get it done. Clint wasn't too proud to say this job was above one person's skills, and so he'd designated two days as "group work" days to finish everything that still had to be done beyond some superficial things. As weird as it was to think about, the river going down actually helped with this, since it exposed some outdoor components that needed maintenance and allowed people to work on them without drowning themselves.

The wheel itself needed some repairs, mainly in some of the blades that had rotted after sitting in the water for so long, as well as getting as much algae scraped off the wood as possible. The frame of the gate that isolated the wheel from the flow of the river had been well-built of the same stone as the mill itself and was sturdy, but the rope of the gate itself had broken at some point and the gate had fallen into the river, so it needed replacing. Inside the mill, the grindstones had come out of alignment and the upper one needed to be reseated; the hopper and feeding chute for the grain had been smashed when the demon hail had punched through the roof, and new ones needed to be hoisted up and secured in place. Salvaged scraps from the destroyed houses would do well enough for all of those and the parts had been built; now they just needed to be installed. The connecting belts between the gears had already been replaced with "new" ones made of strips of extra blankets; presumably the original leather ones had disintegrated. Every tool kit in storage at the inn and most of the scraps and salvaged nails Clint had scrounged from the destroyed houses had been hauled down to provide a supply source, along with a few of the ropes or rope-like things and a couple of the first aid kits - just in case. There were a few other issues that wouldn't interfere with the actual mill workings (a couple of hail holes in the roof and one or two other things), so they could be addressed or not as people chose.

Anyone who wanted to show up and help was welcome, as long as they knew which end of a hammer to hit things with. Water to drink wouldn't be an issue since they were right next to the river, but if anyone wanted to bring snacks or any sort of food it would be appreciated by those working. It was still pretty hot, though, so everyone needed to be on alert for people overexerting themselves and potential heatstroke. Anyone who saw someone about to faint or getting dizzy would have been told to make sure the afflicted person stopped working and sat down in the shade with a drink of water. And of course there was always the option of a nice swim as well.
fishermansweater: (Actual human dolphin)
[personal profile] fishermansweater
WHO: E V E R Y O N E
WHERE: The waterfall
WHEN: During the hot weather in late May
OPEN TO: Anyone
WARNINGS: PROBABLY NAKED. cw your warnings in individual threads.
STATUS: Open. THIS IS A MINGLE, have at it, tag around, you know what to do. If you want Finnick, let me know in the comment subject!





He wouldn't actually say it was really hot yet, but it's definitely getting to the sort of temperatures that make Finnick miss swimming. There's no substitute for the sand of a beach underfoot, the reassuring roar of the surf, the taste of salt in the air, but there is at least water here, tumbling down from the waterfall and flowing through the canyon until it disappears into the rocks to the south. And he knows from constantly checking his fish traps that the water is deliciously cool.

He's tested out a few spots along the river for swimming, and it's good to be in the water again, after being kept out of it for so long by the harshness of the winter.  Not swimming doesn't feel right to him, and it never has. He's never spent this long somewhere with a winter this cold, and he can't remember ever going this long without swimming. So Finnick's been testing the water out since before it was probably what most people would consider to be warm enough to swim. It had helped that he and Annie had some gifts to hunt for in the river, but those have long been found, and now it's just for relaxation.

The calmest, most relaxing place he's found so far for swimming in the river is the pool at the foot of the waterfall, where the water plunges into the canyon crisp and cool from the heights of the cliffs. It's deep around the falls, and it's big enough to swim, and Finnick spends most of the hottest parts of the day there.

So whenever he hears someone talking about the heat while he's dropping food off in the village, he suggests they try the waterfall pool. Word's likely to get around, so he won't be entirely surprised to find other people stopping by the falls.

When they do, they're likely to find him swimming around the deep part near the falls, stripped down to his underwear and, from the grin on his face, having the time of his life. It's clear just from looking at him that he's good at this, moving through the water with a confidence and grace more like to a sea-creature than a man. He's in such a good mood that he even calls out to greet many of the people who approach.

Of course, he's not the guardian of the waterfall: everyone's welcome to stop by whether he's there or not. Once or twice, there's even a moose to be seen standing at the edge of the pool taking a long, relaxing drink.
sixthiteration: (Default)
[personal profile] sixthiteration
Hail had been falling for two days now, peppering the ground and shredding the grass but rather than melt away like a late spring storm it had only intensified, growing in diameter and moving from a mild annoyance to damned near deadly. As the storm raged, ice flew up through updrafts and was forced back to earth in the downdraft, accumulating layer after layer of murky debris until it went hurtling toward the earth with wicked accuracy.

Shingles were ripped from roofs, the wind howled and lightning cracked. The hail had driven both humans and animals into the safety of the indoors, to the dark corners of buildings that might withstand the assault. With only candlelight and the hushed voices of villagers to stave off fear and boredom, the storm raged like a sentient being heedless of those who might be caught in the path.

After the storm, a calm came over the land and weak sunlight glinted off smoke-tinged ice. Steam rose from the melt and humidity was thick in the air; petrichor hung heavy, a soothing scent after a savage display of natural fury.

[OOC: Your hail mingle post. Feel free to have characters on the run, gathering animals or inside the Town Hall waiting out the storm.]
thekittenqueen: ([Margaery] Ah Well)
[personal profile] thekittenqueen
WHO: Margaery Tyrell
WHERE: The Inn, the Woods, the Police Station, Bugalow #4
WHEN: May 11th - 16th
OPEN TO: Jon, Robb, Claire and Open
WARNINGS: Red Wedding talk
STATUS: Open


Jon - May 11th:

Read more... )

Robb - May 14th:

Read more... )

Claire - May 16th:

Read more... )

OTA - The Inn (Hail Event)

With the hail showing no signs of letting up, Margaery found herself unable to venture into the woods for her daily walks. It was perilous to go between her house and the barn too often, so the inn was where she spent much of her day. She had a few of the games she received during the gift giving, games that she had been taught and understood. There were also books. With her cow soon to give birth, she read and reread the chapters in her animal care book at how to handle births of that scale.

She at least had tea and something to eat as she watched the hail fall outside. After beating herself for the third time in Solitaire, she glanced up towards one of the other villagers. "Would you like to play with me? I'm still learning a few of these games, so I imagine you will win quite regularly."
stormborned: (pic#5353437)
[personal profile] stormborned
WHO: Daenerys Targaryen
WHERE: fountain, inn/pub
WHEN: May 8-10
OPEN TO: all!
WARNINGS: will adjust as necessary
STATUS: ongoing!




i. 𝓽𝓱𝓮 𝓯𝓸𝓾𝓷𝓽𝓪𝓲𝓷.
She opens her eyes and she's underneath the surface of water — and Dany's first thought is to look around her for the wreckage of boats, both Ironborn longboats and Yunkai'i warships, for horses and her Dothraki khalasar treading fearfully in the poison water. For her Unsullied, and her new allies.

She looks skyward then for her dragon children, who would be inevitably searching for her.

It was a storm perhaps, she thinks as she feels a push to the surface, her lungs beginning to ache with the need to breathe; although strange that she does not remember it. It must have been a savage maelstrom to wreak such havoc on her entire fleet, potentially destroying her chance to land on the shores of Westeros and finally claim what is her family's birthright.

...No. Her dragons are circling overhead, screeching, she's sure of it. No squall is a match for a stormborn dragon. If Drogon and Viserion and Rhaegal are above the surface, with her, she can still fly.

She pushes up, kicking with her legs, breaking the surface and gasping for air. There's a brief moment where she simply breathes, catches her breath and her bearings.

This is not the Narrow Sea. No shipwreck; no floundering horses or soldiers. Only an ornate fountain, not nearly as deep as she's first imagined and half the length of one of her ships. She treads to the edge and perches her arms over the stone, drenched and gasping to breathe. A look down at herself reveals she's not even in the battle dress she'd worn on her flagship alongside Tyrion Lannister and Missandei and Varys, but in strange clothing.

And only now do her eyes widen, in a mixture of fear and fury.



ii. 𝓽𝓱𝓮 𝓲𝓷𝓷/𝓹𝓾𝓫.
The building is nondescript, not a stone castle like she's seen drawings of in Jorah's books but made of wood. Daenerys approaches it cautiously, still wary of her new surroundings since emerging from the fountain and having dried in the sun and cool breeze. It's cold, remarkably colder than Essos, and she vaguely wonders if she should change into the clothing she's found in the protected pack she's arrived with.

Inside the building as she steps in is an entryway area with various pieces of furniture, tables and chairs. A long wooden table lines the back wall, with stools for seating and bottles of different sizes and colors lined up along the shelves. Spirits, she recognizes; wine and ale in various forms she's never seen or heard of.

On the other side of the entryway is a seating area flanked by a large hearth, constructed with stone and brick and lit with a roaring flame, and with relief she heads toward it to warm herself and ward off the residual chill she's felt since arriving in this place.





[[ ooc: feel free to respond in either past or present tense prose; i default to present tense but have no preference to either one! 💕 ]]
3ofswords: (yellow/drink)
[personal profile] 3ofswords
WHO: Kira
WHERE: Behind the Inn
WHEN: April 21st
OPEN TO: All, Spring Feast mingle post
WARNINGS: Please warn for content in comment headers for individual OTAs
STATUS: Open


He's hardly the first to arrive for a shift in the kitchens, but those ahead of him have sunk into the the search for the building's chairs and tables--the kitchen is open and empty, the tavern devoid even of stools.  It's another wrench in the works, one of the smaller reasons for routine to fall apart to reactions, and Kira thinks they'll have a better time of solving it if someone gets the fire up in the stove and everyone eats first.
 
The damage assessment has people upstairs, people on the path wandered out of their homes.  Kira hadn't come through his own dining room on the way out, so he can't say if he's missing furniture or not, and his growling stomach doesn't much care.
 
It's when he slips out the side door of the kitchen in search of fresh kindling that he finds it.  Every missing table and chair standing in the grass, laden with platters of food, buckets of bottled drinks, carafes of what he finds to be coffee sending steam from their lids.  There are pastries with the coffee, roasted fowl gleaming golden on the next table, between ham hocks shining with honeyed glaze, large fruits piled among wreaths of fresh flowers.
 
Dotting the tables are jars, more jars than they've had since he arrived, flickering with short candles.  Garlands accent the tables, carry from them into the trees, a web of spring decoration with a feast at its center.  Between the platters are smaller plates, small chocolates laid out under decorative drizzle.  
 
"Hey!" he calls back through the door, blinking several times to make sure the sight doesn't shimmer away into the air.  "I found the furniture, and I don't think we'll need to cook anything today."

markwatney: (013)
[personal profile] markwatney
WHO: Mark Watney
WHERE: Field, orchard and town hall
WHEN: Anytime in April
OPEN TO: Everyone -- MINGLE POST!
WARNINGS: n/a
STATUS: Open
NOTE: Details on this year's planting can be found here.


Before I managed to wander completely off the map (again), I'd never been a farmer. Oh, I'd worked on a farm for purely academic purposes while I was in school, and I don't think it's unreasonable to say that I got to know the daily beats of tending to fields. But my time farming had previously been limited to a single term, and one of the things I'd missed was how quickly your days can go from stretching out long and listless to not having enough hours in them.

Planting season is finally here again.

Once the ground had thawed enough to allow for it, we'd expanded our fields and tilled them as well as we could -- We were still lacking in what most of us would consider "proper" tools for that, but I'd had plenty to time to rig up alternatives over the winter, and I have to admit, I'm pretty pleased with the outcome. "Engineer" tends to get overshadowed by the "botanist" in my list of credentials, but I'm glad I'm still a little worthy of the title.

Now it's just a matter of getting the seeds and seedlings planted, fertilized and watered as quickly as we can -- We've lost a handful of people to mysterious disappearances, but if the new arrivals keep on as steadily as they have been, we're going to have a lot more people than we did last fall. If we're going to feed everybody and still be able to put away enough for next winter, we need to harvest as much as we can as quickly as we can.

And no, today I'm really not going to think about the dubiousness of still being here next winter to care. One thing at a time.

I'm also not going to think about how I got another mystery box filled with seeds a few weeks back, and how god damned creepy that is.

The main fields will be split between a generous diversity of fruits, vegetables and the new grains I received. This year we're adding things like melons, corn, and yes, bane of my existence but still-useful staple, potatoes. We've also cleared out an area for an orchard where we'll have grapes, berries and eventually apple trees from the seedlings I've been fostering inside over the cold months. Also new is a little plot dedicated just to herbs, more necessary than ever now with our lack of ready salt.

With the town hall scrubbed and organized, it makes a perfect staging area and place to rest, have a drink or snack. That's also where we've laid out our tools of the trade, both gifted and cobbled together. This year, I want to make sure everyone has some kind of glove if I can. If they're willing to work, it's the least I can do.
thekittenqueen: (Default)
[personal profile] thekittenqueen
WHO: Margaery
WHERE: #4 Bungalow, Woods, the police station
WHEN: 4/3 - 4/4
OPEN TO: All
WARNINGS: Nothing, but will update if needed
STATUS: OPEN



The Woods

The mornings were much the same as ever. With winter slowly coming to a close, it meant that many of the plants and flowers would bloom again, allowing Margaery to gather with the same fervency and delight as before. While her walk through the woods had been to collect kindling and winter fruit, she made a point to stop by many of her favored places to inspect how the plants were faring. Were there buds yet? How far along were they?

It wasn't uncommon to hear noises in the woods. There were others more often about now, many hunters or villagers exploring. When she heard a twig snap behind her, Margaery expected to see a familiar face. Instead, a deer slowly walked from the underbrush, sniffing the ground and listening for potential predators. Margaery rooted herself, hardly daring to move or breathe.

She could sense someone nearing behind her. Taking the risk, she raised her hand, signalling for them to stop. "I have never seen a doe this close before." She whispered.

The Police Station (Outside)

The usual sounds of animals protesting filled the air as Margaery opened the station doors to allow her animals out, her dog Gilbert herding them towards the fields where they could graze. There was still no large pen for her to let them roam about in, much to her chagrin. However, this was better. Gilbert had become diligent in keeping the animals in check, ushering back a sheep that strayed too far or yapping at a cow that lingered too long in the grass. It was pleasant, comforting.

She watched from a reasonable distance, scanning the fields for wolves or any other predators. She counted her animals in her head, tallying the amount she saw ever half hour. Many of the sheep were growing fat, a few pregnant with lambs. She would need to find a place for them all soon.

As someone passed her, Margaery tore her eyes away for a moment to smile at the nearby figure. "It is finally becoming warm again!" She announced happily. "We can begin planting again and think more about what we wish to do with the animals."

#4 Bungalow - Closed to Ned

It was common routine for Margaery to work on her weaving once her animals had finished grazing until the sun could no longer provide her proper light. The cold weather no longer hindered her from sitting on her porch, listening to the sounds of the world around her. She had fond memories of spinning during the summer, now she could weave during the spring. There were birds in the distance, optimistic for the coming warmth. Gilbert was at her feet, worn out from his work and napping as she lightly sang "The Bear and the Maiden Fair."

It was only when she came to the chorus that she noticed Lord Stark nearing her home. They had walked together earlier in the morning, having explored the woods and simply spoken about what he needed to learn. Once they returned to the village, they had parted ways and she had left to let her animals graze. She hadn't paid much mind to what the Starks might be doing, but she assumed they'd be together. Not that it wasn't pleasant to find one Stark or another turning up at her door.

She paused in her work, rubbing her hands on her skirts. "Back so soon?"
womanofvalue: (occupied)
[personal profile] womanofvalue
WHO: Peggy Carter
WHERE: Inside the Town Hall
WHEN: April 3rd
OPEN TO: OTA - Mingle Style!
WARNINGS: n/a
STATUS: Open


The weather has taken a turn for the suspiciously lovely and while Peggy knows better than to think it's going to last, she does know that around here, if you don't take the good when it comes, you're stuck with the bad. She's had a bad few months, recently, between the lightning, the fireflies (she still feels worn down and exhausted, honestly), and the rash of disappearances that had taken their emotional toll on her. With the weather changing for the better, Peggy decides to put it to good use, quickly spreading word around town that she's going to hold herself a class.

It doesn't take very long to get the word out, thankfully, but even so, she doesn't expect there to be that many people who come. Lucky for Peggy, setting her expectations low means that she'll be pleased if even one person shows up and she knows that she'll at least have guilted Sam, Stella, or one of her other friends into coming.

Still, it would be nice to feel in control and useful instead of on the defensive. Carefully wrapping up her hands, Peggy finishes moving the last of the chairs to the side in order to give them some space, settling down blankets because she also doesn't want anyone to break a limb simply because she wants to offer some hand to hand training or, in some cases, simply practicing an old skill that might be growing rusty.

Eyeing the space and breathing in the fresh, fog-free air, she thinks that what she very much needs after her last few months is to hit something extremely hard and she does hope to find that opportunity now.
yorkist: (Default)
[personal profile] yorkist
WHO: Bess
WHERE: Fountain/House #51
WHEN: 4/1 + onwards
OPEN TO: OPEN
WARNINGS: Aside from maybe some amusing 15th century cursing, nothing.
STATUS: backtagging


━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

Fountain ━ April 1 )

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

Village + House #51 ━ April 2 & beyond )

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