The Sixth Iteration (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
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sixthiterationlogs2016-06-30 04:00 pm
sixthiteration) wrote in sixthiterationlogs2016-06-30 04:00 pm
Entry tags:
- !arrival post,
- asoiaf: jon snow,
- dragon age: dorian pavus,
- heathers: veronica sawyer,
- losers: cougar alvarez,
- martian: mark watney,
- marvel: frank castle,
- marvel: peggy carter,
- marvel: sam wilson,
- ouat: emma swan,
- pacific rim: raleigh becket,
- spn: jo harvelle,
- star trek: kira nerys,
- star wars: hux,
- star wars: kylo ren,
- tvd: kol mikaelson
July Arrivals
WHO: Arrivals
WHERE: The fountain park
WHEN: July 1, 12:00 PM
OPEN TO: ALL
WARNINGS: N/A
STATUS: CLOSED
In the snug circle of an old park, a fountain sits burbling beneath a broad, midday sky.
Once-neat paving stones have buckled and cracked from the slow nudge of wayward roots. Benches stand covered in lichen and rust. Three paths push into the underbrush like the spokes on a wheel, the encroaching forest creating lush tunnels through the dark.
But the fountain stands singular and pristine, brightly splashing in open rebellion of the deep, muffled sounds of a place long ago gone to seed. A vibration hums through the ground, there and quickly gone, and the water in the fountain trembles, lapping against the high walls of its cool, pale reservoir.
It is the first of July.
It is precisely twelve o'clock in the afternoon.
WHERE: The fountain park
WHEN: July 1, 12:00 PM
OPEN TO: ALL
WARNINGS: N/A
STATUS: CLOSED
In the snug circle of an old park, a fountain sits burbling beneath a broad, midday sky.
Once-neat paving stones have buckled and cracked from the slow nudge of wayward roots. Benches stand covered in lichen and rust. Three paths push into the underbrush like the spokes on a wheel, the encroaching forest creating lush tunnels through the dark.
But the fountain stands singular and pristine, brightly splashing in open rebellion of the deep, muffled sounds of a place long ago gone to seed. A vibration hums through the ground, there and quickly gone, and the water in the fountain trembles, lapping against the high walls of its cool, pale reservoir.
It is the first of July.
It is precisely twelve o'clock in the afternoon.
no subject
"Maine," Emma responded. It was much easier than trying to explain where she was really from. She wasn't even going to tackle the who fairytale thing.
"How about you? You have a name?"
no subject
He wondered briefly if any of his fellow captives had drowned trying to get to the top. Surely there were a few who were inexperienced as swimmers.
"What were you doing before this?" His tone at least lost the irritable edge to be replaced with an even and steady one, his eyes fixed on the water rather than the woman he was talking to.
He had to start putting together the pieces somewhere.