sixthiterationlogs | July Arrivals

Everything is dark and fluid. Warm and cold all at once. Buoyant and rippling. Rippling. Rippling. In every direction. Holding her body in its sway. The endless blackness becoming spots. Becoming light, streaming down. Reflecting. Refracting. Light. . . through water?

The thought thrusting her body into confusion, and then panic, when Jo suddenly breathed in water, causing her body to contract and react. Doubling her over. Then, sending her desperately, terror striking with the need to breathe, flailing toward the light, toward the need for air.

Breaking the surface, there's air, but there's, also, spasming pain spider webbing her whole chest, as Jo tried to cough the water from her lungs. Hands torn between trying to claw at her chest, that was covered by a foreign, too big shirt, and to go out, shoot out, while turning both directions, trying to get her bearings, to look for what might be coming at her, trying to even see straight as water poured down from above her.

Edited 2016-06-30 23:27 (UTC)

The sudden lungful of water had been a rude awakening, and the scramble to the surface afterward through the fountain and other 'swimmers' was no picnic either. By the time Kylo had heaved himself out of the fountain, drenched and choking, he had already formed strong opinions about his new situation. The canvas pack strapped to his back had at least not filled with water to drag him back down into the fountain's depths, but neither it nor the clothing on his back belonged to him.

Once free of water and fountain, he knelt on the cracked paving stones and fought back the burning in his lungs. One hand went to where the bowcaster wound should have been providing a painful ache. Nothing was there. No blood, no wound and no damage to the strange waterlogged shirt and top his uniform had been replaced with.

Rather than kneel on the stones longer and contemplate how and why he was there, Kylo got to his feet and moved to a bench to put the pack down. His lightsaber wasn't at his side, and he was intent on finding it. He was tossing the clothing that had been so graciously provided to him onto the dirty bench as he rummaged through the contents, a series of curses in Huttese on his lips.

When the empty pack was revealed to be filled with nothing but unfamiliar contents, an only partially subdued sound between a growl and a yell came from the tall man in mostly black. He threw the pack at the bench and stood with his hands curled tightly into fists, fighting to calm his ragged, angry breathing.

Jo's small on a normal day. Loud sometimes, blisteringly hard to avoid sometimes, scary is a term a lot of people like to use when she's pissed, and even if she takes up more space and sound than a burly hunter three times her size, she's still small. In drenched clothes, hanging everywhere on her, while her hair is stringy, drenched, as well? She looks even smaller.

This fact, that she looks like a very small drowned rat, only marginally detracts from the expression on her face. Confusion, laced with anger, biting into copper eyes and a pressed mouth. This isn't where she was. This isn't Medietas, or Mundus, or The Roadhouse. She remembers. She'd gone to lay down after writing that fucking letter. Tired. Frustrated. Wanting a drink, or twelve, and denying herself.

That another person explodes out of the fountain doesn't actually comfort her. Nor does that the first thing the tall, drowned, guy, with black hair and matching black clothes, does is start throwing his shit everywhere. "What are you doing?"

Even though it was, finally, making Jo take stock of her own self. The fact she had a backpack on, too. Along with these clothes.

"Looking for what belongs to me." His tone is rough, as though he considered saying it through clenched teeth or perhaps was trying to make his own voice more intimidating than it was. Initially his response doesn't even grant her a glance from him.

His breathing steadies and evens out after a moment and he glances sideways at her, a frown and confusion on his face. She was soaked as he was, small and non-threatening. He was tempted to try to lift her with the force just to prove to himself that he wasn't getting even weaker, but he was and he didn't. He didn't want to face the truth of just how weak he was becoming yet.

The Force was barely a whisper of his usual strength, and not all of it to do with what he had done to try and make himself stronger. That had backfired, and the wound had helped matters none. But now he was on a different planet, drenched to his bones without a weapon, his uniform or a scrap of information to move forward with.

"Who are you?"

Her brow furrows for half a second at his words, and then her eyes go wide, and her hands are everywhere on her person.

Her pants pockets, her hips, her shirt, for the one thing that never left her body. Never. And No. No. No. She's never lost it. She was never without it, unless she was naked. Not her Dad's knife. Not once. Not in all these times. Not since Raven, and Raven wasn't even losing it. She'd chunked it at him, meaning to kill him, but she'd gotten it back.

"Fucking fuckers," Spits out of her mouth, hard as nails, missing his question entirely in her own expulsion, and she's looking in all the directions suddenly, again. For someone. Anyone. The bastards who brought her here. Who somehow took her stuff. Her clothes. When she swinging her own bag down, even though he hadn't seemed to have found anything he wanted.

Ren snorted derisively when she pulled her pack off as well and picked his own up off the ground. He began shoving things back into it with little concern for the state of them. All the while he watched her sideways, waiting to see if she had anything that belonged to him or found what she was looking for. He did not think she would.

With half of the things back in the bag he dropped it back on the bench and crouched down, balancing on the balls of his feet with his head tilted to the side. His eyes followed every item.

"Whatever it is. You won't find it." Someone replaced everything. Someone who now had his lightsaber and had taken the time to heal the wound to his side before dropping him into the water to nearly drown.

"Yeah." Jo gritted out, all teeth and anger. "I'm getting that. Which is going to go very badly for whoever's idea this was."

What the fuck was this even? Jo dropped her bag, pulling at her clothes, hard and unhappy. They were out everything, were they? What the hell did she have? Where was Jack's hat? River's bracelet? Her gun and other knives? Nothing she'd seen him toss out even looked like it was useful, and she was done being soaking wet, with heavy, and dripping everywhere. But there was a tank a top under this obnoxious black thing, and Jo was peeling the top layer off already, and then looking down with a frown. This wasn't even her soaked white bra under her soaked white tank top. At all.

"I'm going to have a nice, intimate, chat with whoever the hell put these clothes on me, too." Which, yeah, really does come out as threatening as she's thinking about it. No one went around changing all her clothes and stealing her things from her. No matter where she'd ended up this shit had never been done to her, and it wasn't going to fly now either. That bastard could have his balls burned off for all she gave a damn right now.

Edited 2016-07-01 00:30 (UTC)

He's suddenly awake and there's the distinct sound of water rushing in his ears as he's propelled upward. His head snaps around to see others in the water around him. He doesn't have time to think about it though, instead he busies himself with pushing toward the surface, where he can see light trying to peek through.

Kol pushes through the surface of the water in a burst, one of the only people in his immediate vision not sputtering and gasping for air because his lungs don't burn the way the rest of them probably do. The confusion sets in now that he's not trapped underwater, though, and he makes his way to the edge of the fountain to climb out and sit on the side of it, slowly glancing around for a familiar face or something that sticks out.

Only as he's sitting, getting his bearings does he notice that his clothes are all wrong and there's the weight of a pack on his back. He slings it off his shoulders and rummages through it a bit. Clothes, mostly, some boots, nothing all that great or useful, but he'll keep it anyway. He lets out a huff and looks up, eyes searching for someone familiar again.

Once, on a mission, Cougar had been captured. They had tortured him for information that never came. Broken fingers, bloodied skin, but what Cougar remembers is the waterboarding. It's that sense memory that drags him back when water fills his eyes, lungs, and mouth. All of a sudden, he's back in Iran and the Losers are coming to get him.

His whole body is suspended in water this time and when he looks up, there's a glint of light. No one is holding him down and there's something beneath him pushing him upwards. Kicking strongly, he makes the surface and crawls out of the well.

He uses his grip on the stones to find his footing, searching around him as the water drips to the ground. There's nothing familiar around. Worse than that, there's nothing familiar on his person. No gun. No hat.

Cougar's already a very unhappy man.

She had spirit, Ren would give her that. He could feel the anger coming off her even with how difficult the force was being. That anger was good, though, because Rn understood it. He felt it, too. And he had similar thoughts to her own when it came to opinions and threats toward whoever interfered.

"When I find them they will not be capable of chatting with anyone." But there was no one else to blame. Not yet. He didn't bother removing his soaked clothing, despite other options being available in the pack he had been given. Apparently he was just fine crouching there with water still dripping off of him consistently.

He glanced skyward after a moment, squinting at the sun.

"Do you know which system we're in?"

The minute she finds her bearings, Peggy takes stock of the situation.

First, she's absolutely soaking wet and in unfamiliar clothes, sporting a navy blue shirt that looks almost clinical. Strapped to her back is a bag with a weight that suggests a good deal of items inside. It's quite a miracle that she hadn't drowned in that awful well, but Peggy's been in worst binds.

Second, this place is a strange sort of madness. She hardly thinks that the dark matter could still be impacting her, but what if it is? What if some unforeseen complication has ripped her from Los Angeles and Daniel's arms and placed her in the midst of a strange little park in a forest. Shielding her gaze as she stares upwards, she tries to look for landmarks or anything that might give her a clue as to where she is.

Because, item number three, is that unfortunately, she has a bad feeling about this.

After he gets his feet under him and he doesn't see anyone in the immediate line of sight that looks familiar, Kol shoulders his bag again and starts walking around, trying to decide where the bloody hell he's supposed to go from here when suddenly, he finds what he's looking for-- someone familiar.

Short, blonde, no more than 110lbs soaking wet, he's sure of it, and probably not one that's going to be happy to see him. But she's in this as much as he is and he'll just have to deal with her snark or sass as it comes. "Oi, you got a damn clue what we're supposed to be doing, here?"

The woman looks every bit as angry as he does. She looks like the kind of woman that Clay would find attractive, which means that she's likely volatile. Usually? Bad. Right now? Cougar could use some volatility if it means helping him to get out of here. He catches her eye and slings his bag to the ground, trying to get a hold on his hair as it drips in his face.

"Donde esta?" he asks her bluntly, no time for small talk.

Jo is done. So done. Doesn't give a fuck if this is just the beginning, and she knows it's the fucking beginning of whatever new fucking rollercoaster or kidnap or whatever the fucking fuck. She's done and she wants her fucking stuff back. Now. She's already peeled off the obnoxious black top she got shoved into, meaning she's down to those pants and a white tank top, all still soaked, while she's standing over there, trying to ring most of the water out of her hair, so it'll stop dripping down her back.

She's going to go about tearing something to knot it up shortly, if she has to.

She looks up, and there's something like relief, as she says, "Kol. Fuck. Finally someone." Except then it goes wary.
It could be something like Badgerland, or the Labyrinth. Or it could be a whole 'nother everything, and she doesn't know.

"You seen anyone else yet?" There are a lot of people here she doesn't recognize, but she didn't know everyone.

She's done a circle of the area and found paths leading out of there. By the time she returns, there's a tall man who's been left by a young blonde woman, placing Peggy's stranger count higher than she likes without at least a little intelligence into the situation. No time like the present to remedy that.

Leaving that strange bag that had come with her, she marches forward and sizes up the man before her. "I've counted at least one viable path out of here," she shares with him, thinking that she ought to try and garner some trust. "What have you found?"

Another completely unfamiliar face, but someone just as wide-eyed, thoroughly soaked, and unpleased looking as everyone else she's spotted, because people keep erupting from that fountain. Since the moment she managed to crawl out, it hasn't stopped pushing up more and more people behind her. Like it's a door someone's shoving people through.

She doesn't approve and she's considering the fountain with narrowed eyes, at the whole door concept, wondering what the hell would happen if she jumped back in and swam down. Now that she knows not to breathe. How deep could it be? What if it was that simple, even if nothing was ever that simple?

The guy asking her the rough, sudden, question, snaps her attention back, and her eyebrows furrow. It takes a second to catch up with the fact he's speaking Spanish. She's not even sure she's heard Spanish spoken, even once, in the better part of a decade. Since the last time she was on Earth, and it was probably pushing a good ways back to even get that last time.

Jo shook her head, praying for his sake he wasn't as screwed as Thorfinn had been. "No Spanish. Any English?"

It's easier, so much easier, to be filled with rage and violence at this second than anything else. She doesn't want to slow down, doesn't want to think or overthink, or begin to step foot in the dreaded, chilled, thoughts already waiting at the edge for her. It helped that this guy wasn't telling her to calm down and being all pedantically helpful. He looked just as put out, and his question made her look up.

The question easy enough, when she glances up. It's sun up still, and that's not helpful.
"No clue. It's probably better at night to figure out anything like that."

Beat.

"Not that I want to still be here come night, or even have any clue really how to help you with that in the slightest."

The sudden approach of another woman pulls Ren back from his frustration again to gauge the threat level of another stranger before him. He fixes her with an intense stare, studying her for a moment before responding. Her confidence and the manner she speaks with reminds him of Captain Phasma a bit. It at least earns her a moment of almost respect. Enough not to brush her information off with a dismissive comment.

"The symbol on this pack isn't familiar to me." He lifts the still half empty pack up as he speaks before dropping it back onto the pile of clothes he still hasn't forced back in to it. Frustration is clear in the way he holds himself, tense and uncomfortable at not knowing where he is or who put him there.

Clearly someone moved him from Starkiller Base, but who did was a mystery and for what purpose had they left him alive but unarmed?

"There's nothing of use in them, or the packs of anyone else I'm sure. We've been disarmed and re-dressed. If I had to guess, we're being sold into slavery."

The wariness isn't unexpected, really, but he does catch the vague, initial relief. She apparently wasn't recongizing most of the people, either. "No, not anyone I know. S'weird. Not usually like that." The Seal didn't shake up new arrivals into it's little weird field trips, or at least not in his experience. Though maybe it could. Drag them into Lawerence and immediately to the new place...

Doesn't matter. For now, he'll just stick with her.

"Shall we just pick a direction and see what we find, then?" Because really, he doesn't even know where to start, but standing around being confused doesn't sound like the best plan either.

"It doesn't matter. We need to find a communicator or a ship." He needed to get in touch with Snoke. And General Hux so he could order him to send a ship to pick him up. He was so irritated with everything that it had not even occurred to him they might be on a planet backwards enough not to have the right technology.

"And some weapons." He wasn't going to wander around a strange planet, unarmed. He hadn't even realized yet that Rey had left a scar across his face, and he did not think anyone would recognize him. That made no difference, though. A foreign planet could hold any number of threats and he needed to be prepared.

"Yeah. That sounds good." She stops twisting her hair, looking at all those other people.

Wondering for a moment, but they all seem to be milling and standing around in the same spots, going through the same motions, and she doesn't either want to cat herb or see a way to, if they don't know what the hells out there beyond this spot and it's creepy, stupid, person-regurgitating, fountain. She didn't want them under her feet and she didn't want to stand here and count how many bodies came out. Enough of them looked like they might be able to defend themselves if they had to.

They'll have to handle themselves for now and honestly, that's for the best. Especially given that Jo's only reaction right now to people slowing her down or getting in her way was not going to be a pretty one in the slightest. "Yeah, let's go."

He nods, though it's not a comfortable language for him. He wishes he had Jensen or Pooch here to help fill in the blanks for him. Even Clay would do in a pinch, but as it stands, it looks like Cougar is going to have to do his own talking. "Where are we?" he demands, voice as rough as ever, but somewhat halting this time as he fights to get the words out.

There's a rambling line of questions in his head, but he can only spit them out rapid-fire if he's speaking Spanish and right now, that's not going to happen if he wants answers.

He nods once and falls easily in step with her as they set out to explore whatever this place is and figure out the whole point of what they're doing here. He doesn't spare as much as a glance to the rest of the lot around the fountain. He isn't worried about them, they'll handle themselves or find someone who can and stick with them. All he wants right now is to get settled into wherever they're supposed to be so he can figure out this place's thing.

He's still a bit thrown by her Jo tag-teaming with him, situation considered or not. She'd never had a great opinion of he and his family, and the vampire aspect of his existence doesn't tend to sit well with hunters in general. Even the monster-accepting ones in Lawrence.

"Something feels off." He says suddenly, frowning as he tries to place it and put a name to what that 'something' even is.

She hadn't had a weapon on her, not after such a very long day. Peggy can feel herself placing her hands on her hips in her default demanding position, but stops herself. It's not his fault that she's been torn away from all she holds dear. The symbol is a good start, but if she's going to figure out what it means, they're going to need something to reference.

"Maybe there are some other symbols like it nearby," she says. "Something that can connect us and those packs to this place."

The irritation is apparent there. She doesn't know if it's because of the moment, and that she's looking for it on everyone, or because, really, her whole life is made of gruff, rough and ready men, who give the smallest of reactions, but it's all she's used to getting and so it makes them louder, makes it impossible not to notice. But, fuck, she gets this one. They're in the middle of nowhere. A language barrier helps no one in the slightest. Bad enough day-to-day, but worse when this is happening.

It doesn't help that she's already pissed off at the universe, because her response is to throw out an arm in the direction everyone came and say, "Next to the fountain. Besides that? Your guess is just as good as everyone else's here." Which all comes out, before she even wonders if she should be saying it slower. Or in smaller bites. Sentences. Whatever. "I only beat you out of that thing by like ten minutes."

July Arrivals

Arrival: Jo Harvelle

Kylo Ren | Star Wars - Open/Before the winds and siren

Re: Kylo Ren | Star Wars - Open/Before the winds and siren

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Kol Mikaelson | OTA

Cougar Alvarez - OTA

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Peggy Carter (OTA)

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Re: Arrival: Jo Harvelle

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Re: Kylo Ren | Star Wars - Open/Before the winds and siren

Re: Arrival: Jo Harvelle

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Re: Arrival: Jo Harvelle

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Re: Arrival: Jo Harvelle