pretendtoneedme: (running in the woods)
[personal profile] pretendtoneedme
WHO: Everyone
WHERE: 6I's Town Hall
WHEN: July 10th
OPEN TO: Everyone who wants in. There will be one subheader for welcoming back the group and one for the actual meeting
WARNINGS: Nothing so far; please add headers in the comment subjects if something does come up that could be problematic



The return is, when everything is said and done, uneventful. The group who went to explore the break in the canyon walks back into the village in the early afternoon, laden down with most of the supplies they'd brought with them and without any obvious injury. There's some scratches, a couple bruises, but whatever had happened to seal them away from the village for a week definitely didn't happen to them, and they're not buzzing with any news so world-shattering that everyone needs to be collected and reported to at once. There's enough time for the group to separate and grab showers, clean clothes, and something to eat, while the word passes from person to person that the explorers have returned and that there's going to be a meeting right after dinner for them to explain what they've found and answer questions.

At the appointed time, the five of them are there, looking less ragged, and ready to talk. They've brought a few things back with them to show the others in the village, but all in all there's just not a lot to show about the other side that's different - except for that one, giant thing. But the non-changes are going to be shocking enough for most people, and decisions have to be made about what to do with the information they have now.
notsocommon: (adventurous)
[personal profile] notsocommon
WHO: Helen Magnus
WHERE: 6I village, canyon breach, 7I village
WHEN: 2 - 10 July
OPEN TO: Bodhi Rook, Ned Stark, Mark Watney, Clint Barton
WARNINGS: None at this time.



As happened the last time an expedition was mounted, Helen found herself as part of a team to go and investigate something at the edge of the known world. This time, though, the known world had expanded to great degree and it seemed that the canyon that had hemmed them in and been the bane of all those trying to escape the last several months had rent in twain, leaving them with another side of the world to push forward and survey.

Of those she found herself traveling with, only Mark was truly familiar to her. She knew the others in passing, yes, but knowing faces and part of a name weren't the same as knowing someone and she hoped that they were as stalwart and competent as they seemed to be upon first glance. All of them seemed well aware of what such a trek was going to entail, at least, and Helen wasn't concerned that she'd end up having to carry a load bigger than she'd intended in asking them along.

She wished, as always, that she had supplies to be able to draw a map or make notes about the lay of the land beyond the breach. While she knew the forest and fields beyond the village well enough, everything beyond the canyon wall was going to be new territory entirely and she wanted some way to memorialize it for the others. She hoped that someone else had access to paper and pen, that someone would be willing to give up such a precious commodity for the good of the community and for the furthering of knowledge. Supplies gathered and goodbyes said, the hike was begun to the edge of the known world and into the great beyond.

"I have no idea what's beyond this breach," Helen said. "I cannot even speculate, since none of us have been able to climb it. Geology was never my strong suit."
3ofswords: (resolute)
[personal profile] 3ofswords
WHO: Kira Akiyama
WHERE: The Town Hall
WHEN: July 1st through the 8th
OPEN TO: ALL - Event Mingle
WARNINGS: Please warn in comment headers for sensitive subjects.


The rain had started shortly after the initial quake, a constant downpour counter to the aftershocks trembling through the canyon at-will.  Homes had been destroyed under their own shaking weight or fallen trees, the parched earth quickly flooded and muddy, the river regaining some of its depth.  It's the kind of shit-show Kira had expected after the first quake, his experience of them largely from movies--but this had been so much worse, with no calm blanket of snow to cover all evidence after the fact.

After the aftershocks die for enough time to venture out, the rain is still pouring, the earth still shrugging like it might finish toppling the already ramshackle structures. 

There's no telling who else might be trapped in there, without an orderly line of residents and Veronica's list of arrivals.  There's no telling who might have just up and disappeared in the middle of it all.  The injured will go to the hospital, but there will be plenty of people without serious injuries, who still need somewhere dry to sleep, somewhere to check for friends or family, somewhere to feel like they aren't dealing with cracked and flooded homes alone.

It takes most of the afternoon to drag his supplies to the town hall, use a tarp to cross over to the house he and Veronica use for map-making, and set up inside with a sign-in sheet and basic inventory of supplies.  Now he just has to get people passing through to add to both.

Leaving Aurora and Hoshi safe in one of the smaller storage rooms, he pushes himself back out into the rain, telling everyone he meets to bring themselves and what they can salvage to the Town Hall.

[Mingle post for after the earthquake.  Come sign in as not-dead or missing!  Bring your tools and supplies for recovery efforts!  Report loved ones missing or search for them in the crowd!  Post is set up for people to be in and out of the building throughout the week, mark your OTAs accordingly.]

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.
womanofvalue: (disheveled)
[personal profile] womanofvalue
WHO: Peggy Carter
WHERE: Riverbed / Peggy & Stella's House
WHEN: June 10th / June 11th
OPEN TO: 1st section is open to all; 2nd is open to anyone Peggy considers a friend or anyone who would be stubborn enough to barge into hers and Stella's house
WARNINGS: Descriptions of an injury
STATUS: Open!


The River

The sun hasn't gone down properly in too long and Peggy is weary past recollection. She'd never considered herself someone so greatly affected by lighting, yet the steady presence of the sun in the sky has robbed her of her sleep, paired with the fact that it's so unceasingly hot. It's that exhaustion that sets her into a dazed mood, sleepwalking through her tasks. She's barely paying attention when she gets to the river, but even with her attention half there, no one would miss how low the levels are.

It's clear that she won't be fishing today. She's not quite worried, but Peggy is too tired to be worried, slipping her boots into the river in order to measure the true level and how much they've lost in the past few days. Perhaps it's time for her to stop fishing and go back to the canyons, picking up whatever berries and other greens on her way. Her mind drifting back to a cloudy state, she continues to walk up the shallow river, but when she climbs out on a few of the smoother rocks (shaped by the river's flow), her foot slips and her body gives way, crashing down hard on the outcropping of rocks in front of her.

She's ready to criticize herself when a sharp pain accosts Peggy in her side, a familiar place of pain after the incident with the rebar, but it's not quite like that. She hadn't hit her head, so that's a plus, but a glance downwards as she steadies her hand on the rock shows that there's something in the shallow water below her that looks suspiciously like blood. Moving her body up a touch, it doesn't take long for her to see that it is blood and that it's her own.

There, in between the rocks and wedged out like a pointed weapon is an arrowhead, covered in several inches of warm blood that gives Peggy a good indication of how deeply it had punctured her (or perhaps it had scraped her? She can't see, given the angle). Turning herself cautiously, she settles herself on the dry land beside the river, pressing both palms against the wound to apply pressure, most certainly awake now and chastising herself for being so stupidly distracted.

Closing her eyes and swallowing her pride, Peggy knows that she's not getting out of this without at least some intervention. "Is anyone nearby?" she calls, keeping her tone from wobbling. "By the river, it's Peggy Carter!" she calls, a little louder. I need some help, she thinks, but stubbornly doesn't say, because it will be clear soon enough once she's found.

The Day After

It's all terribly familiar, this stinging sensation in her side that's just painful enough that it nearly knocks her out. She's been lying in bed for nearly a full day, though, and the last time she'd injured herself had been far worse. She had gone right back to work. Clearly, that means that Peggy was well-suited to get up and have some breakfast, knowing that Mr. Jarvis wasn't going to come and fetch it for her. She had the presence of mind to check on the bandage at her side, pressing it tightly against her stitched wound. She also took the time to glare at the arrowhead on her bedside table, since that bloody thing caused this whole mess.

Carefully, she pressed a hand down into her bed to lever herself into a sitting position, pressing the back of her hand to her sweaty forehead. The terrible head and the constant sun had been keeping her in a state of exhaustion before, this new injury hasn't done anything to help. When she moves to stand, the weakness in her legs could be for any number of reasons, but whatever the cause, they force her back down to the bed as her frustration mounts.

She'd saved the whole world and she'd been worse off.

Perhaps if she could get to the spring, she could heal herself and this could all be in the past. "Up we go," she says stubbornly, swaying a little as she makes it to her feet, inching her way towards the door at a rate that suggests she'll reach the springs approximately next month if she keeps it up.
scepterschild: (Oh no)
[personal profile] scepterschild
WHO: Wanda Maximoff
WHERE: Outside House #20, the Inn, the River
WHEN: June 9th – 11th
OPEN TO: ALL
WARNINGS: None
STATUS: OPEN



June 9th 🙈 Unhappy Chiclets Outside House #20

Wanda had begun to hate the days. Their prison changed as if it was on the careless whims of a child. The sun had been blazing constantly for the last three days and it was wearing on Wanda's nerves. She had taken some extra blankets to cover her window, trying to keep her room as dark as humanly possible. It was difficult to tell the time with the sun’s constant presence in the sky. There was no way to counter it. Wanda worked until she was about to pass out and then slept. She had no idea how long each task took or what hours she kept. After the first day, she stopped trying to keep count.

Her sleep was restless, even with the semi darkness she had managed to attain in her room. Her nightmares were getting worse and she'd begun to wake to the sounds of her screaming. They weren’t ever screams of fear but the sounds of someone lashing out at the world around them. In this regard, it was good that her powers had been taken from her. There was no chance of her hurting anyone in the house.

This morning Wanda woke up sweating. She ran her palm over her face controlling the frantic beat of her heart. She brushed and tied up her hair, lifting the chestnut strands off the nape of her neck and then dress for the day. With the encroaching heat, she’d begin to walk around the house in her underwear. She didn’t care how it looked, anything to fight off the threat of heat exhaustion. She took a bucket of water and stepped into the backyard to dump the bucket over her head. It wasn’t warm but it felt good and it washed the sweat from her body.

It’s only as she’s turning to walk back into the house that she notices the two boxes sitting next to the house. One box had fallen off to the side while the other was slowly jumping forward. Wanda had heard about people getting things in boxes, it was how Clint had gotten his throwing knifes. It had never happened to her. She moved over to the moving box first and opened it.

This was a mistake.

Out of the box jumped 6 Chiclets who were finally released from the hot container that they’d be stuck in. They scattered in all directions in the back yard. Wanda cursed under her breath and ran after them, trying to return the little balls of fluff back to the small cardboard box. "Fuck hold still." Her accent was lighter and her tone tense. This was not what she wanted to do today.


June 10th 🙊 Fucking Sun the River

Dressed in green cargo pants and a white tank top Wanda headed towards the river. Her hair was braided and pulled over her right shoulder though she thought about tying it back into a high ponytail instead. She wasn’t enjoying the heat and by the time she reached the river she felt a dizzy wave wash over her. Her hand reached out towards a tree at her side to steady herself and pull the small container of water from her side. She never left her house without it and while the water was usually warm, it was still water. The liquid touched her lips and she took small sips before returning it back to her side.

The river was receding.

A brief flash of panic jolted through Wanda before she reminded herself to stay calm. She pressed her back against the tree, feeling the bark as it scraped uncomfortably against her skin. The realization that there was nothing they could do about the river hit her hard. She felt helpless and tired.

She closed her eyes and hoped to feel a breeze rise from the water. Exhaling she opened her eyes, directing the dark green orbs at the water. It glistened and winked in the sun and despite her annoyance at the sun it was a beautiful thing to see. Exhaling a tired breath Wanda pulled off her pants and walked out into the water. It wasn’t very cold but it felt good against her legs. It was only standing out in the river that she noticed the glint of the arrowheads where the water had once been. Another sign that there were people here before them or perhaps a war along the river bank? Wanda didn’t know.


June 11th 🙉 Strumming Along the Inn

Wanda couldn’t remember the last time she had a good night’s sleep. It’s been days with the constant sun but it felt like much longer than that. She found a place towards the back of the inn, just after finishing her task of preserving the meats and fish that had been caught that day. She’s sitting in her underwear again but her hair is loose, falling over her shoulders in thick brown waves. A wooden post was pressed between her shoulder blades and her legs sprawled over the floor while her newly obtained ukulele was sitting in her lap.

She knew how to play a few songs on the guitar though she usually used the instrument as way to organize her thoughts. She picked a song that she knew would be playable on the smaller instrument and began to play. After she’d gotten the hang of the cords she began to sing along to the tune.

On a dark desert highway, cool wind in my hair
Warm smell of Colitas, rising up through the air
Up ahead in the distance, I saw a shimmering light
My head grew heavy and my sight grew dim
I had to stop for the night

[ooc: Hotel California on the Ukulele: HERE. It’s beautiful, you should listen to this song. Please note even when singing Wanda would have her accent.]
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.
repressings: <user name="goldsteins">, DNT (35)
[personal profile] repressings
WHO: Credence Barebone and apparently half the village (including you!)
WHERE: Inn for the OTA, various in closed starters
WHEN: 5/15
OPEN TO: OTA
WARNINGS: Mentions of abuse
STATUS: ongoing




Eventually, Credence has to leave the house. Eventually, Credence has to face what he's done and eventually, he finds himself blinking blearily into the early morning sun, heart hammering in his chest as his foot crosses the threshold of Kira and Bodhi's residence for the first time since he'd been dragged there from the forest, half asleep and utterly exhausted. He finds he doesn't burn up immediately, nor does he feel like collapsing inwards on himself, and takes another step forward. It's a slow start, but a start nonetheless.

He feels terrible, of course, but he's quick to mentally reprimanded himself. He doesn't deserve to feel terrible, not anymore. Not ever. He's long since stopped sleeping because he's recovering and instead has slipped into sleeping due to what he feels is idleness, choosing to nap constantly to avoid the world. 15 days and he's positive--positive--he's slowly driving those he temporarily shares a residence with absolutely insane. Even if it's false, it's what he perceives, and they have a right to be upset. Everyone does.

That's why, very carefully, he makes his way towards the inn. His body feels strange, dimmed, and that's the only reason he leaves in the first place: he's sure the scratching in his skull stopping altogether means the Obscurus--Obscurial?--is at least contained. It's safe for him to be near other people.

He stares at the inn door for a very long time, for what seems like a lifetime, before he physically wills his body to open the door. The weather's changed, but he's still wearing the black fisherman's sweater Finnick has given him, covering himself and hiding skin, the only scars showing the ones on his palms. He tries his best not to shake and keeps his voice as calm as he can, surprised that his nervousness only cracks his voice once.

"Hello? I was wondering if anyone needed help this morning. With..." His voice trails off, face reddening. "..Chores, or..."

This is stupid. They're going to chase him out.
lefthandfree: (before it's gone)
[personal profile] lefthandfree
WHO: James Buchanan “Bucky” Barnes
WHERE: fountain, inn
WHEN: May 13
OPEN TO: closed arrival, otherwise open to all
WARNINGS: language
STATUS: second prompt is open closed

     the fountain

closed to pegs )

     the inn (open)

He’s not even going to pretend he’s not new. It seems like something that should be obvious, so why bother with putting people on? Not that it means he won’t do his damned best to make sure people know he’s not incapable, especially with the blatant visible handicap. But he’s dripping a lot less now, and that’s a good time to try and figure out what all he actually needs to deal with given his clear displacement of space and possible displacement of time.

Soaked is still very much the description of his physical state though, something that’s apparently becoming a trend, but he’s far more grateful this time around since his arm isn’t trapped in a vice and, well, he clearly hasn’t gone on a murder rampage either. It’s the little things in life...

There’s a fire at one end of the establishment he wanders into, and even without the cold, it’s a welcome sight. Soggy garments are really not his style, and having a quicker way to dry off other than waiting for the world to end is a huge bonus. He plants himself nearby and takes the opportunity to dig through the pack. It’s sturdy. Effective. But everything else inside is soaked through like him.

God. Why can’t anything ever be easy?

Dragging a hand down his face, he gives a long sigh. One thing at a time, Barnes. And at the least, the water isn’t sopping out of the bag, he tells himself. So it’s not all bad. Maybe.

He wants to laugh, but instead a wry grin plasters itself to his face. Patience is a goddamn virtue, for sure. But as long as he doesn’t get kicked out for being a drowned mess, he’s glad to stay parked here for another couple hours before moving on.
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.]
perseverances: (Default)
[personal profile] perseverances
WHO: Cullen Rutherford
WHERE: Fountain, around town
WHEN: May 11-13
OPEN TO: Everyone
WARNINGS: Nothing yet.
STATUS: Ongoing




[Fountain]

There's something that tells him to open his eyes. Something deep within that tells him something is wrong. When isn't something wrong, his brain wants to argue, but the need to breathe takes over, and he opens his eyes. Underwater, unlike when he last remembers being back dry at Skyhold. Had he fallen asleep amid the festivities? Was this a dream? Something that he'll wake up from soon?

The need for breath is suddenly present, and Cullen pushes himself to the top with ease - something that makes him wonder, considering the armor he had been wearing and should be wearing - and breaks the waterline with a gasp for air. A quick swim to the edge, and he holds on for a minute, pushing hair from his face while he looks around. A fountain? He doesn't recognize this place. He pulls himself out, and once on dry land he leans forward to take a few more deep breaths before straightening. "What in the Maker's name...?"

He had to be dreaming.


[Around Town]

He's not sure what to make of it all.

It's not a dream, nor some haze of a nightmare from lyrium withdrawal. Quite real, he had been assured, and frankly, there was something deep within him that just felt wrong. That he didn't want to accept that somehow he had pulled here against his will and was, for lack of a better term, stuck.

Cullen's taken to observing as he walks around, trying to figure out this place. He's nothing like Leliana; he doesn't know how to lurk in the shadows like she can, he's too clunky and loud for that, despite him not having his armor. But he does know how to watch, how to figure things out tactically and strategically. Eyeing buildings and whatever defenses the town might or might not have.

And how strategic it might be to drink until he wakes up from this. Either might be good.
withoutahammer: all icons by <user name=swevene> (Default)
[personal profile] withoutahammer
WHO: Neil Mackay
WHERE: Around the Inn
WHEN: Early May
OPEN TO: Come one, come all!
WARNINGS: None yet!
STATUS: Open

Rising early sometimes feels like the only thing in Neil's life that's easy- people complain, but he likes early hours. There's a stillness there that it's hard to find the rest of the day. If he breathes deeply enough, he can almost bring it inside of him.

He's had the habit of practicing his morning martial arts drills outside since the weather improved and that hasn't changed despite the attack of the- obscurity. Obscurus. Whatever it's called. He's just taking it much, much slower, going through his forms and focusing on making them perfect, controlling the weakened muscles that shake when he does anything that takes effort.

It's exhausting. It's embarrassing. He's supposed to be the protector, the strong man standing on the front lines, and he's weaker than a bloody child. He has to stop and start and stop again, instead of flowing from one movement to the next. It takes a whole morning to do enough of a workout that he feels satisfied.
andrastianherald: (Cannot Look)
[personal profile] andrastianherald
Fountain

Dreaming is always dangerous. Every night, mages enter the Fade in their dreams, bright and fascinating beacons to the demons that prowl the shifting realm. There is risk every time, being found, being tempted. Evelyn knows this, even in her slumber, and wages war against the easy way out every single night.

Tonight is different. Tonight there are no demons, no lurking spirits, no shifting of the landscape in a crazy array of her hopes and desires, of her mind wresting to make sense of her day. Not even a pleasing dream of time alone with Cullen. All she can see is water, with light overhead, and a desperate need to reach that light. Evelyn swims upwards, still wondering why the Fade should take the shape of deep waters, until she breaches the top and gasps for air. Inside a fountain.

This is a terribly peculiar dream.

She hoists herself out of the fountain and sits on the ground, blinking in the sunlight and holding up a hand to shade her eyes. Her left hand, in particular, where the Anchor still resides and yet is reacting to nothing at all. That is puzzling in itself. The hand is lowered back down into her lap where she runs a finger across the mark where it lays dormant. This must be the Fade, she's so certain of it, but why isn't the Anchor sizzling or popping or glowing as it is wont to do?

A test then. She reaches out her left hand to open a rift in the Fade to escape from, but nothing happens. Evelyn then attempts to pinch herself to force wakefulness. Again, nothing changes, nothing happens.

All alone and confused, Evelyn allows herself one brief moment of frustration in the form of a sigh. "What is happening now?"


Around Town

Given a couple of days to adjust and settle in, Evelyn has not adjusted. Not truly. She is very hard pressed to believe that this isn't the Fade and that she is merely unable to wake or exit. She's quite ready to and not just because the clothing she's in is foreign and hideous. Who wears such things anyway? Nor has she a hairpin or comb or ribbon to her name and it's made wresting with her long hair something of a nightmare. Her solution today has been to braid it, lightly knot the end and then wrap that into a knot at the nape of her neck. Serviceable enough but not pretty. Practical.

Nonetheless, she's more or less absorbed with thought as she roams the town, wandering as if lost. She is, though not in the way one might think. She mumbles the Chant under her breath, trying to steady herself and find comfort in that familiarity. Something Evelyn desperately needs for she's lost, lost as to what she should do. Lost as she was in those fateful days after being told the Circles voted to disband, to go home, she was "free." Free to do what? All her life had been spent in the shelter of the Circle. She knew neither how to sow seed nor bake bread, and her family certainly would not be taking their embarrassment of a mage daughter back under their roof for anything longer than the briefest of visits. She had no idea how to live outside then.

The Inquisition had given her direction, a purpose, something to justify her own existence. And now that too is gone. At least there she could put her education to use, she could investigate or collect elfroot. She knows nothing of these plants, nothing of the lands, and she has found no library with which to educate her ignorant self. That distressing reminder that she is quite useless in every way prompts her to wring her hands while resuming the Chant. All the while, her mind keeps churning over the same question again and again: What am I do to? She is no fool, she has no truly practical skills with which to keep herself alive or contribute in any meaningful way.
ethnobotany: have you noticed how your boobs have started to firm up }{ insurrection ({ i'm back for more)
[personal profile] ethnobotany
WHO: Beverly Crusher
WHERE: Hospital, outside House #15
WHEN: Second week of May
OPEN TO: Anyone, with one closed for Wanda
WARNINGS: Nothing for now, will update if necessary
STATUS: OPEN


HOUSE #15

It was a strange box she'd found that morning. What was even more strange was what she had found inside the box. A bunch of seeds of all sizes and shapes stared up at her, glinting in the little bit of light filtering through. What startled her more than those were the gardening tools resting above the seeds. It was like someone knew she liked gardening, knew she would want to help out and wanted a garden of her own. Was this something those Observers she had heard so much about liked to do?

Pulling out the tools, she set them aside and began to sort through the seeds. There were so many, she barely even knew where to start. Two of most things, except one willow and four aloe. The willow made sense, though she hoped it was the seed for a smaller willow tree. The aloe plant also made sense. The more aloe they had, the better off everyone would be. Some of these would have to wait for a greenhouse or something of the sort. Otherwise, the climate here would kill them. But some she could go ahead and plant.

So for the rest of the week, she could be found outside when she wasn't on a shift at the hospital. With tools in hand, she's either working on getting some of the seeds into the ground or trying to remember how Annie and Finnick were doing their fence so she can make her own. The last thing she wants is to have her new garden get eaten or run over when it finally starts to grow. She makes a point of looking for anyone who might want to help on either one of these endeavors.


HOSPITAL

Her colleagues at the hospital are all very important here. Beverly doesn't know what each of them knows about herbal remedies, but she sees no reason not to offer what she does know to them. The more of a supply of those remedies they have and the more people who know what they are and how to use them, the better. So at some point during the day, she finds each of them, walking up to ask a few simple questions.

"I've just received a bunch of seeds for herbs and plants we can use for medicine and poultices when they finally grow. How much do you know about medicinal herbs?"


WANDA

Wanda is one of the people Beverly wants most to work on her garden with. Unfortunately, not knowing Wanda's schedule means she isn't familiar with the proper times and places to try to catch her. So Beverly sorts out a handful of the ones she wants to plant now, setting them aside so she can plant them with Wanda at a later date. It isn't until the end of the week that she finally happens to make it into the Inn at the right time to find Wanda. Making her way over, again being careful not to sneak up on her, she offers a small but very warm smile.

"I remember you being interested in gardening," she comments easily. "I've just discovered a whole bunch of seeds that I'd like to plant. If you're interested, maybe you could help me."
notabirdcostume: (Jump 3)
[personal profile] notabirdcostume
WHO: Sam Wilson and OPEN (except 1 thread)
WHERE: Inn, Church, Around the Village
WHEN: May 2-3
OPEN TO: All, 1 Closed Thread to Sonny & Stella
WARNINGS: Possible discussions of trauma -- I'll be more specific if something comes up.
STATUS: OPEN


1. May 2 Inn -- Kitchen; Morning or Evening [OPEN]
If you ever need a helping hand, I'll be there as fast as I can... )

2. May 3 Village: Morning [OPEN]
The road is burning up in flames and nobody wanna take the blame... )

3. May 3 Church; Afternoon [CLOSED - Stella & Sonny]
Let's raise the bar... )
scepterschild: (Please don't)
[personal profile] scepterschild
WHO: Wanda Maximoff
WHERE: Home/Inn/Woods
WHEN: May 1st - 8th
OPEN TO: EVERYONE
WARNINGS: None yet
STATUS: OPEN



Home - May 1st – Early Morning



It wasn’t unusual for Wanda to be woken by her nightmares. They came more readily here than they had at home, playing over every loss and uncertainty like a Scooby Doo rerun on TV. Lately her dreams have been about her brother and more often than not she’d find herself jolting awake by slinging a ball of red sparks across the room. This morning brought no damage to her surroundings. Her heart pounded frantically in her chest while sweat matted her long dark hair to her neck and shoulders.

She was quick to get dressed, pulling on her jeans and the white tank top that she’d been given on her arrival. The house was warm though she could feel the morning chill creeping like thin tendrils through the air. With a heavy sign Wanda kicked open the door to her room and headed down stairs to see how much of the night’s fire was still burning in the hearth. Her fingers laced through her hair pulling the brown silky strands back from her face. When she reached the living room Wanda extended her fingertips out towards the far side of the room, willing her powers to move a log onto the fire.

Nothing happened.

She called for her abilities again but nothing happened. "Move." She kept her hand pointed towards the far side of the room, her voice harsh as she glared at the stack of logs. "MOVE!" Wanda shouted as she quickly stepped towards the small stack of logs, kicking the one she’d been commanding halfway across the room. The log thumped loudly against the floor. She wanted to scream at the piece of wood but what little self-control she had stopped her.

Woods/Around - May 1st - All Day



Eventually Wanda left her house. Tension was set in her shoulders as she walked straight for the forests edge. She didn’t want to believe that her powers were gone, that there was now nothing she could do. She was helpless, defenseless. She couldn’t protect anyone.

She’d had her powers for so long; she didn’t know how to handle them being gone.

When she reached the trees she shouted, listening to her pained cry carry over the canopy. She kicked at the trees around her, her boots stopping with every solid object that she’d come into contact with. Rage, pain, fear, frustration and hate mingled in her chest as she lashed out at everything around her. She threw a fist into the tree, feeling the rough texture of the bark scrape and bruise her knuckles. Again and again she hit the trunk of the tree, wishing she could push all of her feelings away.

When she returned her town her knuckles were bloody and brushed, her hair matted to her neck where a thin layer of sweat covered her skin. She looked tired and worn out, having managed to release the bulk her frustration in the woods.

Inn/Around - May 2nd - 8th - Brooding



Wanda could be found in many places throughout the village. She was determined to prove that being without her powers didn’t change anything. She knew it did but it was the only way she could fight the frustration that knotted and grew uncomfortably in her chest.

Early in the morning Wanda would split wood for her home, occasionally kicking a piece of timber that wouldn’t split properly. She helped Kate preserve the meat at the inn; this never required the use of her abilities and was now one of Wanda’s favorite tasks. While every other after noon she could be found cooking at the inn, using the few spices that she knew and testing the ones she didn’t. Wanda wasn’t sure when the last time she ate was. She remembered making food but not eating it.

In the evenings Wanda dreaded to return home. It was when she was trying to sleep, alone in her room that she’d lose herself to her thoughts and her doubt. It was stupid. She knew that but so many things were changing and there was nothing she could do to stop it. A distraction, all she needed was a distraction.

She could usually be found sitting at a random table in the common area. There was a button on the table in front of her; sometimes she’d spin it on its side with her finger while other times she’d just stare at it, expecting something to happen. Towards the beginning of the month she’d search for any abandoned liquor from the feast, welcoming the dizzying sensation that it brought with it.
unmakeme: (Default)
[personal profile] unmakeme
WHO: Natasha Romanoff, Neil Mackay, Clint Barton, Jyn Erso, open for others
WHAT: getting sick on chocolates, reacting to the chaos of the obscurial, anything else
WHEN: 22nd for being sick, 24th for the obscurial stuff
WHERE: house 43, town center, the forest

WARNINGS: none yet
NOTES: if you want custom starter, hit me up on discord or plurk

obscurial stuff )
mund: DO NOT TAKE. (Default)
[personal profile] mund
WHO: Percival Graves
WHERE: Town Hall
WHEN: Half an hour after the first sighting / hearing of the Obscurus
OPEN TO: OTA
WARNINGS: Mentions of violence, abuse, hate, etc
STATUS: Something like a mingling -- feel free to post OTAs of your own. If you need Graves to respond, just put his name in the header / or in bold somewhere in your comment!



the ragged they come, and the ragged they kill. )

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