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
Except for last time. But. No. No, she's not going to think about. Not yet. Not now. Not with these people.
Jo looked off, back to the people gathering, helping each other. It makes her want to rub her arms and move more, but then so does this damn scratchy, billowy, stuck to her like a damp stamp off pants choice. "No one yet. I came in first, but no one's popped up to see what the commotion is over here."