babyhunter: (Default)
[personal profile] babyhunter
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.
guessihavelostcount: (98. biting her lip uncertainly)
[personal profile] guessihavelostcount
WHO: Claire Bennet
WHERE: #8
WHEN: July 2nd (backdated like whoa)
OPEN TO: Erik
WARNINGS: will update if needed



While Claire had experienced a good many things, the whole earthquake bit was fairly new to her and one that she didn't want a repeat of. She also hated it because there was no quick way of checking on anyone else even if the village was small. There had been other things to focus on too but that didn't stop her from setting out to find Erik as soon as she could.

It worried her when she couldn't find him at the Inn at first, so she set out to check the other places she thought he could be but the truth was that she would just have to search blindly while praying he was okay. As time wore on, the worry grew more intense as she covered the distance of the village by going from one end to the other. She even ventured into the trees just to see if she could find any sign of him.

Finally, she was making her way back towards her own house with a sinking feeling in the pit of her stomach. She didn't want to consider that maybe he was badly hurt or even gone but she was at a loss. Chewing on her bottom lip, she looked around while wondering where to go next.
scepterschild: (Oh no)
[personal profile] scepterschild
WHO: Wanda Maximoff
WHERE: Village
WHEN: July 1st - 4th
OPEN TO: ALL
WARNINGS: Light Injury



July 2 - 4 - Anywhere in the Village

Wanda can be found limping around town after the earthquake. Her ankle was hurt but it wasn't enough for her to go the hospital and for the moment there was no one telling her to take care of herself.

Her first stop was her home where she checked on the state of the house as well as a small trembling puppy and a family of baby chickens. Clint had been working on a chicken coop but for the time being they were still sleeping inside and they were getting big. Wanda let the puppy out into the yard, attempting to weakly chase him if he ran a little to far.

When the animals were settled and feed Wanda headed to the inn and town hall in order to see how everyone else was doing. There was so much to fix but she was moving to slowly to really be of any help.

A few days later Wanda can be found sitting and taking a break, carefully inspecting her ankle. It was swollen and red now that she hadn't taken the time to let it heal on it's own. It was only sprained but Wanda wasn't letting it get better.

July 1 - An unoccupied House [CLOSED TO ERIK]

Wanda was heading back home when the earthquake hit the village. She stumbled forward and looked around as the buildings and trees began to shake. Her eyes had to be wrong because she saw the structures around her twisting as if they were about to be torn in two. A shingle fell from a roof and Wanda quickly ran out of it's way.

She was ready to bolt home when she heard the footsteps coming from inside of the house. She could have just left but that thought never entered her mind. She bolted inside the house frantically looking around to see who might be inside. "Hello." She called out, hoping for someone to reply.

"Who's here?"

The earth shook again and Wanda felt her footing slip. Her knees connected hard with the floor. This was not her day.
frankensteinian: thisblankpage @ IJ (hat)
[personal profile] frankensteinian
WHO: Erik Lehnsherr and Claire Bennett
WHERE: Claire and Margaery's house
WHEN: June 11
OPEN TO: Claire
WARNINGS: Will update if needed
STATUS: Closed

They're there when he wakes up in the morning. Two boxes, sitting at the end of his bed, that weren't there yesterday. He's heard about people being gifted items, supposedly left there by whoever's behind this, but he hasn't experienced that himself yet.

Until right now.

He sits on the end of the bed and opens the first box. Flour, sugar, eggs, what looks like cocoa powder. He can guess what these things are for, he just doesn't know what to do with them. He knows who will, though, so he sets that box aside and reaches for the other one.

A pair of jeans on top. It's a bit warm for them right now, but they're still better than the scrubs, and if he's going to be out working in the woods, he'll want long pants. Next a white t-shirt. Nothing unusual about that. Underneath that...a black-and-red plaid shirt. Now he's sure that someone's messing with him, because that's a bit too specific to be random.

That goes back into the box. It's too warm for that right now anyway. The boots and underwear and socks that he finds in there too though, those he'll use.

Later in the day, after he's eaten and seen to the tasks he has for the day, he makes his way to Claire's house, with the box of baking ingredients, wearing his new clothes minus the flannel, and knocks on the door.
9601: (.115)
[personal profile] 9601
WHO: Logan Howlett
WHERE: Fountain & throughout town
WHEN: backdated to the 21st + onwards
OPEN TO: Arrival closed to Jean; OTA otherwise
WARNINGS: vituperative swearing and a hot, sweaty Canadian?
STATUS: Open



>>21. fountain

meet me there )

>>23. woods

A couple of days in, and he wasn't feeling any better about his situation. Yesterday he'd scoffed at the idea that there was no way out of the canyon, and though others before him had combed every inch of the perimeter of that strange place, he still had to see for himself. Hours later and he'd just ended up pissed off. Logan had new scratches, several split fingernails, a motherfucking sunburn and an aching ass when he'd taken a hard fall from the canyon wall, any handholds having disintegrated beneath his grip.

Today, he was up early in the morning while it was cool out, well before the heat could make an appearance, and he was a man on a mission. Without much in the way of housing options, not inclined to trust the random assortment of village weirdos, he was staying with Jean. Well, a younger version of the Jean he'd once known, an uneasy arrangement he still needed to get his head around.

The house, at least, was much more straightforward than guilty feelings and awkward silences, a catalogue home the likes of which he hadn't seen for a long time, even before the sentinel war. No one built homes like it anymore, not cozy little bungalows of this stripe, and though sound in construction, it had clearly seen better days. If he was going to stay - temporarily, because he'd find a way out - he was going to make sure his digs weren't falling apart. He could do that much for Jean.

"The roof is shit," he'd announced to her the previous afternoon, trying to shore up what part of his pride had been damaged. Logan had pried up a section of broken shingles and dropped it into the grass for her to see, a taste of just what several days of hail had wrought: splintered wood and an easy recipe for leaks. Fixing it, well...that would take some doing, but it wasn't out of the realm of possibility.

That was what he was up to this morning, an axe over his shoulder and, curiously, a mallet tucked in an overall pocket, while he wandered among the trees. A few times he stopped at one or another, touching a hand to the bark and letting his gaze roam up into the branches, before he shook his head and moved on. To anyone else, he probably looked a little odd- and there was someone else out there, tending to something he didn't really care about. He just as soon assumed they were trying to beat the heat the same as him. Everyone in the town seemed to occupy themselves in one task or another for the good of the whole, something he could respect. Back home, it was much the same. It had to be that way when resources were thin on the ground, when you were constantly on the run.

At last, not too long into his search, he found the right tree, a red cedar standing straight and tall. A quick walk around had him sighing in satisfaction, even giving the trunk a little pat. Now he could start.

"Hey! Lookie-loo. I wouldn't stand there," Logan called out to his fellow forest compatriot. He stepped back to widen his stance, hefted the axe, and swung for the trunk.


>>later: town

Logan ended up making a day of it with the tree, stripping bark, cutting shakes, and bundling together greenery to process for other uses. Even his first, mangled efforts to cut shingles weren't spent in vain, just simply tossed aside to be repurposed. Truth be told, he found a sort of quiet enjoyment in the work, in putting a lot of his old knowledge to practice. It didn't give him the time to dwell too much on his situation, which he preferred. Let him get these tasks handled and there was no time to worry.

All throughout the late morning, he could be found carting things back to the house, whether shakes or branches or boughs, tied with bark cordage. By the afternoon, it was getting far too hot for his liking, and he was hurrying a bit with a last stack of shakes, ready to be done with this portion of his pet project. The rest of the tree could be left almost indefinitely where he felled it, if he needed it again in the future. He wasn't paying too much attention to the path itself- he's had a headache the past half hour that hadn't put him in the best of moods. When someone came across him, he almost clipped them due to inattention.

"Watch it-" Too late. A handful of lovely red shingles tipped off the top of the stack and went cartwheeling across the path. Logan sighed, a sharp noise of displeasure, and shifted the stack so he could bend and grab for one of the flat rectangles of wood. Bad idea- a wave of dizziness hit him, and made him teeter just for a second before he straightened, pressing the heel of his palm to a temple, squinting through that flicker of red.
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.
thegreatexperiment: (Upset)
[personal profile] thegreatexperiment
WHO: Samantha Moon
WHERE: Near that old arrival fountain
WHEN: May 19
OPEN TO: All!
WARNINGS: Probably some adult language
STATUS: Ongoing


"If I die in this attempt, I need you to drop everything and run for that truck to save yourself. Don't look back. Don't try to save me or anyone else. Just escape."

Everything inside of Sam wanted to argue, to fight to resist the command. But Avery had her in his power, his eyes consuming her entire being. It was funny, really. Although they were siblings only by sire--they shared no blood--it was remarkable how much they looked like. Apart from red hair, Avery had the exact same blue eyes as Sam. It felt almost like a cruel joke. This was the brother she was meant to have, but instead, she'd been saddled with the Predators and now it was too late to even...

The thought cut itself off sharply, along with the feeling of helplessness. But all of a sudden, Sam felt like she was underwater. She was underwater. And it was cold and she had no idea how she'd gotten there and...could Avery have somehow wiped her memory? No, then she wouldn't have remembered his final command about saving herself. And there's no way Avery, or anyone else, could have somehow caused the pressure that was building up in her chest. It was a familiar sensation, but one she couldn't immediately identify. All she knew, on instinct, was that she needed to swim.

She cut through the water as fast as she could, thankful for once for the Illinois State Department of Education mandate that all high school students had to pass a swim test. She'd missed out on plenty of rites of passage as a child. Learning to swim was not one of them. In no time, she'd launched herself over a stone ledge, drawing in deep and greedy breaths as she rolled across the floor. It was amazing how good breathing felt. Of course, she wasn't one of those vampires who'd aged out of breathing. She still did it on instinct. But it had never felt so...good... It almost felt like she...needed to...

There was no exact way to pinpoint when it happened. The realization just crept up on her slowly as she gasped and coughed and spit up water. Her heart. She could feel it beating, pounding in her chest like a little jackhammer, the way it used to after her high school track meets. Her heart was beating. She was breathing. And the sunlight was shining down on her face without even so much as a hint of pain.

...she was human.

Sam started to laugh. Or maybe sob. Or maybe it was a little bit of both.
frankensteinian: <user name="preciousblueberry"> (grumpy)
[personal profile] frankensteinian
WHO: Erik Lehnsherr and open
WHERE: Firewood pile, inn, in the village
WHEN: May 1-8
OPEN TO: All
WARNINGS: Grumpy mutant ahead. Also sex in the thread with Claire.
STATUS: OPEN

May 1st

It had been a shock to him when he'd gone out this morning to chop some wood and had found that he could no longer control the ax like he used to be able to. Concentrating on moving it does nothing but threaten to leave him with a headache that will keep him from being able to do anything all day. Which is tempting, except for the headache part. So he convinces himself to stop trying, and by that point he feels the anger swell up. It had been hard enough to accept that someone had been able to take away so much of his ability, but now they've gone and taken all of it. That will never set well with him.

Thanks to his ten years of purposely not using his powers, he has some practice at doing things without them, and there's an ax and a pile of wood that needs to be turned into firewood. Put those together with the anger he feels right now, and soon enough there's a pile of firewood large enough to fuel one or two fires for a couple of days.

He only stops when the blisters that have formed on his hands threaten to burst, even after he wraps rags around them. The pain kept him going, but also fueled his anger some more. He shouldn't have to worry about a thing like blisters, but here they are. When he returns to the inn in the village, he leaves the rags wrapped around his hands until he gets inside, where he carefully removes the wrappings to take a look at his hands.

He hadn't stopped soon enough. One of the blisters has burst anyway.

May 2nd – 8th

The rest of the week, he stays around the inn and the other buildings in the village, helping however he can around there. The blisters on his hands prevent him from doing his usual task of chopping firewood, and he has a hard time even using a knife, but he'll find something that he can do to help out. He's not living simply off the charity of others. It's been his experience anyway that most people aren't as charitable as they claim to be.

Sweeping, washing dishes, prep work in the kitchen, give him a task to do.
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.
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."

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.
scepterschild: (Contain)
[personal profile] scepterschild
WHO: Wanda Maximoff
WHERE: Around Town & House #20
WHEN: March 14 - 17th
OPEN TO: ALL
WARNINGS: N/A [Will update as needed.]
STATUS: Open



Shield Practice (March 14)

She spent a lot of time thinking; going over what she knew, options and ideas. They usually yielded unhelpful results which was why she'd find other ways to pass her time and clear her thoughts. Practice was one of her main focuses, testing the new limits of her powers and trying to improve them. She only wore herself out but Wanda wasn't ready to give up.

She was wearing black jeans and a white tank top. She had her jacket but it was currently draped off to her left. She found a place out of the way to practice though she made sure to stay close to the village. She was mindful of the unknown dangers around her having received cautions from both Sam and Thor.

It took a little bit more effort to practice than before but Wanda was determined. She shifted through the stances that she used to focus her powers. Her hands moved in front of her and from her finger tips the red mist curled and flickered into a solid looking shield. She spent most of the day working, slowly expanding her shields and its radius around her. She didn't watch as the sun as it slowly traveled it's way across the sky or notice as the fireflies began to flicker in the distance.

Making Soup (March 15)

Having a feverish house mate meant that she took on more responsibilities while she was at home. She didn't have too but it was a habit when those she cared about weren't feeling well. She kept the house warm, carrying wood from outside to keep a small fire burning in the hearth. Besides keeping the house warm, the fire gave her the ability to make soup. The ultimate sick cure.

She'd grabbed what meager amounts of food she had and what few spices she could find and started to create a spiced broth near the flames. Soup made it seem like there was more food thanks to the addition of water. It wasn't exactly like something from her home, she didn't have the right spices for it, but she'd made it as close as she possibly could. It took a while to simmer and cook, wafting the thick and enticing sent through the house and onto the street.

The front door wasn't locked while she was down stairs but her guard would be triggered if someone just walked in; even so, she'd be happy to share if someone walking pass the house wanted some soup.

Searching (March 16)

Wanda was worried with people getting sick. She took great care when she left the house, making sure that it was safely secured while keeping her guard up outside. She didn't know if these fireflies were a usual thing but she didn't want to take any chances.

She walked through a few of the empty or destroyed houses, hoping to find some spare blankets or anything that might help someone who had a fever. She didn't know what she'd find but anything would help. She had the backpack that she'd arrived with on her back though it was currently empty as she searched. It was easy for her to check if a house was occupied and she hoped that those in the village wouldn't mind her swiping a few blankets from the empty homes.

Wanda didn't think it would be a problem but she wanted to play nice with those she was currently stuck with.
candor1: (encapuchado)
[personal profile] candor1
WHO: Erik Lensherr, Percival Graves, Cassian Andor, and YOU NICE PEOPLE
WHERE: (i) The Greek ruins with Erik / TBD with Graves. (ii) The waterfall. (iii) The hospital.
WHEN: After Fin/Annie's Town Meeting through Now
OPEN TO: (i) is closed; (ii) and (iii) are OTA
WARNINGS: vet struggles, speculative projection of ECT +/ EMDR, reproductive choices, murder, self-endangerment, physical injury, and "too much exposition"[Urinetown].
STATUS: Closed

Show me the secret pages of the Book of Stars. [Closed] (attn. Lensherr, Graves) )

What power enables prophecy and sorcery in a world controlled by logic and law [OTA] (attn. anyone) )

I ask you to believe this not because it is true, but because it is a beginning [OTA] (attn. medical professionals [Claire, Ravi, Rory?], anyone) )
windchasing: (come again)
[personal profile] windchasing
WHO: Pietro Maximoff & YOU
WHERE: The fountain, the inn, the woods
WHEN: January 30th
OPEN TO: All, except the first starter
WARNINGS: Nothing in the top post, will update.
STATUS: Closed to new threads

masterpieces serving maximum sentences )
notan_animal: (pic#5322048)
[personal profile] notan_animal
WHO: Logan Howlett
WHERE: Here, there and everywhere!
WHEN: Jan 25th, afternoon
OPEN TO: All!
WARNINGS: Beware of antlers and moose droppings.
STATUS: Closed


Logan was pretty good at blending into most backgrounds. If no one bothered him, he wouldn't bother them; a fact that went on for the majority of his life. Then again, if anyone didn't know that, all they had to do was see the expression on his face. That usually conveyed things well enough.

But that particular day, there was something, or someone who felt the mutant needed to be more social. Give Logan a reason to be looked at, approached and drawn attention to. And every since that morning, he felt like he was on one of those gag shows.

He'd been cutting wood and after hearing some rustling coming from the shrubs behind him, Logan took a look at saw the antlered animal staring at him. Logan stopped, lowered the ax and raised an eyebrow.

"Got nothin' for you, bub." he called out, watching the animal move a few steps closer and linger. Logan shook his head. "Not kidding. You'll have better luck in the trees."

Nothing did, the moose wasn't planning on moving. So, Logan sighed, went about finishing his cutting while it circled around and continued to watch him cut the wood. Even after disappearing into the house, it still remained close by. When he thought it was gone, he put on his jacket and headed out again, this time to make the trek to the Inn to get something to eat.

Halfway down the road, Logan heard a snort and looked over his shoulder. "You're kidding me. People are in short supply round here. You want to get shot? Don't say I didn't warn ya."

And off the two went in the direction of town.
fishermansweater: (What do you think?)
[personal profile] fishermansweater
WHO: Finnick Odair
WHERE: The Inn
WHEN: Evening of January 20th
OPEN TO: EVERYBODY! Kate and Finnick will be doing their best to make sure everyone is summoned knows
WARNINGS: Who knows with Finnick? Nothing expected.
STATUS: Open!



It's late in the day by the time Finnick and Annie return to the village. They've pushed the timing as late as they can: while the auroras are still lighting up the night well enough to see by, they do nothing for the cold that creeps deeper under Finnick's skin with the sinking of the sun. And they definitely do nothing for the snow that had begun to fall again while Finnick and Annie were in the cave, their light dimmed somewhat by the heavy clouds.

The Careers need to get back to the village, and night falls early, now it seems to be something like midwinter.

They'd discussed whether or not to tell the villagers what they'd found. Finnick had thought they'd be giving up a vital potential advantage, but ...

Annie had been right that hiding what they'd found would damage their standing, and while he doesn't care about their reputation here much, he does care that Annie thinks they should be trying to get themselves closer to the villagers, not further away from the community. It has seemed to be the point of their gifts.

So when they make it back to the village at around dusk, they don't skirt around the houses like they usually do, sneak their way through the edges of the woods and find a roundabout way to get back to their house. Today, they go straight for the crossroads at the centre of the village, and straight into the Inn.

Finnick needs to find Kate Kelly, because she knows how to make things happen around here, and if they're going to tell everyone what they found, they need the villagers to gather.

"Kelly," he tells her when she finds her, "We need to call a town meeting. There's something people should know."

So it is that as night falls over the rooftops, gleaming green in the aurora-light as it bounces off snow, people who arrive response to a summons to the large main room of the Inn will find Finnick standing at the front of the room, holding a sketchbook. His ever-present spear is resting against the wall next to him, just next to their meticulously sketched map of the canyon on the stolen curtain.

There's a new mark on one side of the canyon walls.


[ This is your standard mingle-type meeting post! Finnick will have an OTA comment but feel free to mingle, start your own things, threadjack, whatever. ]
71st_victor: (peaceful yet not)
[personal profile] 71st_victor
WHO: Johanna Mason
WHERE: The Woods
WHEN: Midnight-ish, January 16th
OPEN TO: OTA
WARNINGS: Violence, Auroras, Aggressive Lumberjacking
STATUS: Open



There's one convenient thing Johanna's figuring out about the whole 'night's as bright as day' thing. For someone who doesn't really sleep so well, it gives her the opportunity to get out there and do some of her work when everyone else is sleeping, which means that she doesn't have to run into crowds of people and do the whole smile and act civilized thing. Sure, yes, she's trying to be nice for Finnick's sake, but honestly, people kind of suck after a while. This is the kind of peaceful silence that she does well with.

The sparks are starting to get a little annoying, especially seeing as she can barely touch her axe at times without shocking herself after, but the auroras? Well, Johanna doesn't exactly get wowed by natural beauty or anything, but even she has to admit they're pretty incredible.

At night, when they're lighting up the sky like day, they're amazing. She'd scrambled to the top of one of the trees to perch up there and eat some jerky she'd stashed in the boughs, readying herself for another night of private hunting and wood chopping. While the wood, she's happy to share, the food is treated, prepared, and shared between herself, Finnick, and Annie. She might be willing to go along with the whole 'play nice' theme they've got going on, but she's going to make sure she stays alive before anyone else.

With the last of her food done, she descends quickly, boots slamming onto the ground as she absently twirls both her axes as she walks along, not caring what she looks like, aiming to find a little something to carve up and start drying out before she gets back to chopping up the logs. Might as well make the best of a sunny night, after all, and what better way than getting to use the sharp ends of her axes?
frankensteinian: (Default)
[personal profile] frankensteinian
WHO: Erik Lehnsherr
WHERE: The Fountain and the Inn
WHEN: January 2nd
OPEN TO: Emma, Logan, and all: There will be locked threads for Emma and Logan, but feel free to start your own at either location after that
WARNINGS: Anger and people flying through the air
STATUS: Open



I. Drowned rat

This is wrong. One more item on the list of things in his life that have not turned out the way he wanted them to. His first thought is of the fountain in Paris, but that was ten years and three countries ago. Wherever this fountain is, it's not in Paris, and it's definitely not the woods behind his house in Poland.

The first thing he notices when he pulls himself out of the fountain – other than that he was right, it's neither Paris nor Poland – is how cold it is. To-the-bone cold, and he's wet and only dressed in –

What the hell is he wearing?

II. Grumpy rat

He's finally calmed down a little (enough to stop causing any more bruises, anyway) and had it suggested to him that he might want to start at the inn. Or maybe he'd just been told that to make him someone else's problem. He could see it happening that way.

He's not an idiot though. He knows how important it is to find somewhere warm first, with the weather being what it is, and if the inn is where people are, it stands to reason that it's also somewhere warm. Maybe somewhere to start getting some answers, too. There's somewhere he needs to be, and this is not it.

He pushes open the door to the inn and finds himself a table at the back while trying to draw too much attention to himself. (Which is probably hard, given how obnoxiously bright his clothes are.) He sets the backpack down on the table and starts to examine its contents. A black coat, good, and the denim overalls are still a bit ridiculous, but at least he has some options other than what he's got on.
notan_animal: (pic#5322049)
[personal profile] notan_animal
WHO: Logan Howlett
WHERE: The Inn, poking about outside any of the empty houses, woods - pretty much getting the layout of the land
WHEN: December 14
OPEN TO: All
WARNINGS: Surly mutant Canadian man is super grumpy.
STATUS: Closed


Had Logan been anyone normal, he might have found the irony of his arrival to the village marginally amusing. Only he wasn't normal and there wasn't anything funny about being made into some ugly rebar art sculpture, thrown across a city and into a river to sink to the bottom of.

That was before cresting the surface in the fountain with a sudden loud growl that quickly turned louder when six certain claws didn't extend when they should have. Instead Logan was hollering from the pain and intense pressure radiating through his fists and up his arms.

Hours later, Logan emerged from the woods again dressed in the change of clothes provided to him in the waterproof backpack. None of it made any sense and that didn't improve his mood by any stretch. The mutant knew, however, that he wasn't going to learn anything about the place unless he asked questions. So, he moved around unseen until someone stuck out in a way that would suggest they knew something.

Unfortunately, asking nicely where the hell he was and who brought him here was out of the question.

[Later - Inn; Around the village]

Besides being told the same thing by three different people, Logan was still hard pressed to believe it. As far as he was concerned, this was about him. And it wasn't the first time his mutation had been screwed with. In fact, as he sat at a table in the Inn, everything that happened in Japan shoved its way back to the forefront of his mind.

From there, he wandered, keeping a face on him that suggested he wasn't in the mood to talk. But that never worked for Logan in the past and he was sure there'd be that one person (or, three) who had to stop and talk to the apparently obvious new guy in town.

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