July Arrivals

[sixthiteration]

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.

Comments

Re: Arrival: Jo Harvelle

[thecatinahat]

Cougar raises his brow when she says that they could be in the past. He's taken off his scrubs top to squeeze out some of the water and try to accelerate the drying process as they wander, but he has to shoot a glare over his shoulder at her. "Don't be crazy," is his rough reprimand.

And at the same time, is there anything sane about the fact that he can't get back through a fountain portal to his team?

He shakes his head, trying to dismiss the idea that he's losing his mind. "Even if we're in the past, why so dusty?" he demands.

Re: Arrival: Jo Harvelle

[tobeclosetohim]

The first words get an exceedingly well-worn in dart and half-roll of her eyes. It's only been minutes since she arrived and she's not sure she even wants to have that conversation. Not that Cougar's given her any reason to discount him, but it's been only minutes since arriving in this place. But crazy isn't something she is. Not when she's done that too many times.

The past. The future. Other planets. Other universes. Other beings.
So much other it had it's own boxes and dictionaries.

It helps that she gets it, when his next question actually incorporates her idea, like it's not insane. She doesn't want to be anyone's dart board. But she gets it. Or because she gets it. It is insane. A lot of the time. A lot to wrap your head around, and even years later, she's right fucking here today, still not at the end of that road, that never stops bumping, twisting, dropping her down, out, upside down like a rollercoaster without warning.

It's a why she really doesn't have an answer for, tossing back instead. "How long does it even take to get this much dust?"

Re: Arrival: Jo Harvelle

[thecatinahat]

"Years," is all Cougar says, because he's been to enough ghost towns and deserted villages to know the difference between weeks, months, and years worth of desertion. He shakes his head when he comes back from the last room, not finding anyone or any hint that anyone's been here recently.

It's not a good sign. "What next? Another house?"

Re: Arrival: Jo Harvelle

[tobeclosetohim]

"Can't hurt. Double check that maybe this one and the next one are the same?" Jo was headed back for the door, because it was good as this being an empty, forgotten place. Which was strange. Once upon a time, nearly a decade ago, she would have assumed something like this was gone and forgotten because it was haunted. Ghosts. Monsters. But that's not here either.

Nothing prickling at the back of her neck and warm in her palms.
No single sensor in the light sigils on her shoulders, check and back trembled slightly.

Headed down the stairs, she went back to it. "How many years? Five? Ten? Half a century?"

Re: Arrival: Jo Harvelle

[thecatinahat]

He gives a nod of his head, because more information in this case can't hurt. More information in general can't hurt, even if Cougar can't shake the feeling that he's doing recon without an actual purpose.

"No," he says, dragging a finger over the table and eyeing it. "Two possibilities," he says. "Not many years and there were people." Because dust comes from dead skin cells and that means if there are people, then this type of dust layer doesn't mean much. "No people? Could be decades," he agrees.