sixthiterationlogs | 001 - Adding a bit more Flourish to it

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001 - Adding a bit more Flourish to it - [OPEN]

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.

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Someone knocking wasn't entirely new--but that someone not being Credence circumvented Jude's expectations as he pulled the door further open. He's been in and out of the house all day, moving between the short yard and the kitchen while he mixes another batch of paper. The sheets are staked flat in the yard, raised slightly above the ground, with already-drained sheets knocked out of his repurposed window screens to dry a little more on them.

Behind him, the house is humid and smells mildly like soup and laundry, some the plants releasing their scent into the steam. The largest pot he has boils on the stove, and he's sweaty and soot-streaked from feeding it when he stands in the doorway, taking in the girl on the other side.

Jude pushes a hand up through his hair, momentarily out of his face before it starts to flip back down over his brow. She looks to be Samantha's age, but he can't recall seeing her before. "Yes," he eventually answers, "Can I help you?"

For a few seconds the cat had caught Clary's tongue and ran away with it. Judging from the hanging pieces of wet paper outside she'd been able to guess that someone lived here but for some reason she wasn't expecting anyone so... normal.

Her lips parted and then ten different questions rushed to mind. "No." Wait. "Yes." She corrected herself quickly. Vibrant green eyes glanced pass him before turning to look back at his face. "What are you doing?" It looked like he was making paper but for some reason that didn't click in Clary's head. She knew the process of making paper but it was outside of her sphere of comfort being an art student who always had paper.

It was then that Clary realized there was no paper, nothing to draw on... It hit her harder than she cared to admit and she outwardly winced. "Sorry. I'm new. I'm poking my way around." She tried to sound calm. This wasn't the first time she went to another world though this time she hadn't been expecting it.

She was 100% not sure what to expect. At least this guy spoke English?

Even after a near-disastrous earthquake, it feels like there's nothing to do around this village. At the very least, there's no demons to slay, which leaves Isabelle to help with boring, mundane things. Cooking, cleaning, tending to crops, that sort of thing. Isabelle fills her downtime with exploring, which has at least gotten a little more interesting with the quake giving them more land to work with. When she's not doing that, she indulges in some working out, either by sparring or jogging.

Right now, it's jogging, in yoga shorts and a sports bra in order to survive the sun and the weather. It's not as hot as it had been, but it's still warm enough that just stepping outside and walking around can work up a sweat. After this, maybe she'll take a dip in the river to cool off, then treat her skin and hair to a dip in the hot spring.

It's too hot for the hot spring, really, but with very few beauty products to work with, Isabelle can't really afford to skimp out on what options she has. The water of the hot spring makes her hair silky and smooth, and her skin nice and bright, so she'll continue to make regular trips to it to keep herself looking nice. Just because she's trapped in this stupid canyon doesn't mean she should let herself go.

She's jogging around one side of the fountain when she almost steps on something bright orange, and she takes a quick step back, shifting into a stance that makes it look like she's ready to fight.

"By the Angel," she breathes, recognizing that hair and face just a second later. "Clary? You're here?"

Clary wasn't all that surprise to hear Isabelle's voice. Of course, she didn't know where she was but she's yet to entertain the idea that this wasn't New York or the Institute or another strange place that she's somehow fallen into. Portal's were like that, weren't they? She was still a little bit fuzzy on how they worked though Clary had a surprisingly steep learning curve.

She opened her eyes, blinded for a few seconds by the sun, before looking over at Izzy. "Hey." She slipped her shoulders from the backpack and sat up. Her scrubs were black and clinging to her frame. "Um..." Now that she was really looking around she was suddenly very confused.

She didn't remember stepping through a portal. She'd comment that this was a dream but if it was Izzy would be in her fighting leather, not a pair of yoga paints and bra. It was just how Clary saw her: fierce, beautiful and at times intimidating. She was less intimidating now that she had gotten to know Izzy but dreams usually accentuated the apparent qualities in a person.

Clary decided that her train of thought was stupid and let it slip into the back of her mind. "Where is this? And why am I dressed like this?" If she was going to ask a question about clothes, Izzy was definitely the right person.

Through the start-stop of words, Jude's shoulders prop up slightly, lifting his posture up off the door frame, then relaxing back under his worn scrubs as it culminates in her admission. He'd been far more cagey than curious when he arrived, but things had been muddled even before the fountain. Dangerous, if anything he recalls is real.

"I'm making a batch of paper," he answers evenly, letting his back open the door all the way as he moves into it. "Boil it inside, dry it outside. Sometimes people get journals and things in boxes, but there's no guarantee, so I try to make it when I have time."

Glancing over her again, he notices the tattoos--same style and random placement as Isabelle, but that's where the similarities between them seem to end. Maybe something in the attitude--if she's this gung-ho about knocking on doors this fresh on the ground, maybe she's the type to run around with a machete, too. "Uh, do you want some water or something?" Anything more complicated, he'll probably have to point her back to the inn, but when someone knocks on the door, you try to offer something.

He's a little surprised when he hears a knock on the door. He doesn't really have visitors. He sees people at the inn every day, or runs into them around the village. The only real visitor he ever has is Claire, and she no longer feels the need to knock first, what with him living here alone.

He makes his way to the door (thankfully his ankle is much better by now and there's no sign of a limp anymore) and opens it. Standing outside of it is someone he doesn't know, and he doesn't remember seeing her around the inn, either. She must be new.

"Can I help you?"

Clary rarely thought about her Shadowhunter marks. Over the course of the last few weeks they had become natural for her to wear and she sometimes forgot that they were there until she needed them. It wasn't second nature to her like it was to Izzy, Alec and Jace.

Her attention turned towards the drying paper, her expression thoughtful before turning back to Jude again. He seemed nice enough and Clary figured she'd get an ax-murder vibe if he was really going to do anything strange. She wasn't defenseless but she didn't have her Stele or her sword and she was used to accidentally running head first into a dangerous situation.

At least her father wasn't here.

"Sure." Water sounded good considering how hot it was outside. "You think there is a place that I can get some paper?" To be able to sketch again, even if it's just a little, would be magical for Clary. Maybe they could do this D&D style and trade or something. Not that Clary had that many useful skills growing up in the concrete wilds of Brooklyn.

Clary was surprised when someone answered the door. From the outside, this house hadn't looked like anyone was living in it but here he was, standing there looking down at her. Vibrant green eyes met Erik's gaze with very little awkwardness and no fear or uncertainty.

"Probably not." She admitted with a sideways twist of her lips. "I didn't think this house was taken." Though it was also minimally damaged compared to some of the others in the row.

Clary turned to look left and then right before pushing some of her bright orange hair behind her shoulder. The Shadowhunter rune tattoo's were burned into her skin, marking her neck and arms with the twist and swirl of ancient patterns and letters gifted to the Shadowhunters by the angel. "You think there would be resident signs or something." She had to keep reminding herself that this wasn't anything like Brooklyn or the Institute.

Jude doesn't know why he's always so softly surprised by the demand for paper. He'd started making it at a single request, and really, for himself--but it disappeared off the shelves at the inn, and he got requests from plenty of people he's met. Maybe if the three he has in mind don't take too much work, he'll keep making journals out of what he can find for binding.

The observers, whatever people call them, are something he tries not to think about. Taking control of one small supply has helped. "I make it for everyone," he says, in case that wasn't clear. Holding the door another moment until she could slip inside, he leaves it to open and close on the breeze, heading deeper into the house.

Before he hunts a mug for the tap, he takes a moment to stir the pot again. The water is slowly boiling off the sludge of broken down plants and sheets, until he can spread layers of it on the screens from collapsed houses. "I've got some here, and when you run out, I leave it at the Inn's storage when I finish a batch."

Paper was something special. Not what it was but what you could do with it. It was the only medium that Clary felt like she could use to communicate without fail or misinterpretation. She didn't think she was as skilled as her mother but it was something she loved. It was a shred of normalcy that had stay with her through the upheaval of her life and the introduction into the Shadowhunters life. Having a way to draw while she was here made the village appear a little more bearable. Like Salem with the sun shining.

She stepped behind Jude while her eyes mapped out his home. It was like a few of the other houses she's seen though it wasn't broken down and there were small pieces that told her that someone lived here. The biggest indication had been the paper but there were other things too. Inside felt normal.

Clary peeked into the pot and winkled her nose at the sight of the sludgy pieces. That was paper. She told herself before turning to look back at Jude. "Really? That's awesome." Wait. "Is there anything to write with at the Inn? I haven't actually looked." She'd been more enthralled by this new world.

"And yet, no Rod Serling," Ravi replies to the girl who's been speaking out loud. She probably hadn't been talking to him, but seeing as he's currently bent nearby to fetch a new sample of river water for his newest round of experiments, he thinks it'd be rude not to reply. That, or it's creepy that he's replying right now, but either way, he's socializing, look at him go.

"Sorry," he says, wrinkling his nose when he realizes that this could look creepy. "I wasn't actually staring. Or lurking. I'm definitely not stalking," he clarifies. She is in not much at all, though, which means that he probably shouldn't look too long. "That said, if this were a Twilight Zone episode, I have to think that it would be more interesting. I don't remember them being so long and drawn out with menial every day tasks."

"If we had any paint or extra wood lying around, we might have those." Mostly the residents know which houses are occupied, though. It doesn't take long to figure it out. "Maybe we could mark on the map which houses are occupied. If it's not already there."

Clary wasn't sure if he was joking or not. His expression didn't really change making him appear very serious. If she were to draw him the lines on his face and neck would be very pronounced and angular, like the edges of cut glass. She'd try not to use too much shading giving the impression of someone who would be immovable until broken.

It was an interesting though but she realized that he probably wanted her to say something and not just stare at him. Right. Words. Those are usually useful.

"There's a map?" Not what Clary was planning to say but the words were out of her mouth before she could stop them. Then she waved a hand, animating a bit of backtracking. "Hold up. Why not just carve something in the door frame?" It was just wood and any rock would do the trick.

Clary didn't actually know what sort of resources were here yet. She was learning.

Clary hadn't noticed that Ravi was there and startled when she heard his voice carry over the currents of the river. She curled her feet down so that she could turn and find the owner of the sudden, though factually correct, voice. Orange hair plastered to her neck and back as she looked over at him. "If Rod Serling was writing this I think there would be more twist and turns or something like Animal Farm where animals started talking." She moved her hands when she spoke as if that made her statements more clear.

There had been a time when Clary would have gotten embarrassed but she felt surprisingly comfortable now. It was hot out and the white cotton underwear she was wearing wasn't to different than her bathing suit. It was a strange realization but she'd more embarrassed if someone had watched her undress more so than catching her in this state.

She smiled when Ravi attempted to state what he hadn't been doing. "Okay. What are you doing?" Because that was a more interesting question. "Also how long have you been here?" Isabelle had mentioned that people were showing up here but she hadn't had a firm grasp on the timeline.

For a brief, heart-stopping moment, the first thing Benedict thinks of when he sees wet red hair is Folly.

He's wondered what would happen, should any of the people he knows back home turn up. Some of the residents of this habble knew each other before they arrived; some are friends, some mere acquaintances, some are clearly more like enemies. He's watched many of them forge lives together, sharing jokes about life back home, settling into old routines as best they can. What would that be like for him, should his cousin, or any of the Guard turn up?

That Folly would be the one to turn up first had never occurred to him, but once it did, it was all he could think about. She would be so confused, so lost, so distressed to be without her jar of crystals. Would she even be able to speak directly to him? Without her crystals, she would lose the crutch she used to interact with the rest of the world. He started casting about for things to use in its stead as he dropped what he was doing and raced forward, all in the split-second before he realized that the girl crawling out of the fountain was not, in fact, Folly, but someone else.

Well. He's already on his way over, he might as well continue.

Standing over her, he clears his throat. "Ah, miss," he starts, eyeing her black scrubs and thinking another one. Just like him. Should that mean something? Perhaps. "You might be more comfortable inside. Changed out of those wet clothes, perhaps?"

As far as he knew, writing utensils were personal items, except for what chalk they had on the board. His own pencils were taken from the piles of supplies after the earthquake, donated by someone who had little use for them. A friend of Credence, he thinks, one of the people who had been hovering when they returned.

The colored pencils he doesn't think he can part with, but he has a few graphite. "You gotta sharpen them with knives," he warns, "but I can give you one for now. Sometimes items appear, I got some clothes in a box, but nothing to write with."

Filling the glass while she pokes around, he turns and holds it out. "I've seen people use sticks, just carve up the tip and use some grit from a fireplace."

He nods. "In the inn. It's a collaboration. Whenever someone discovers something new, they add it to the map. There are lists there too, of resources or something. I don't pay as much attention to those."

He runs the fingers of his left hand through his hair, the tattoo on the inside of his left forearm momentarily visible, until he shoves his hand back in the pocket of his jeans. He looks over the doorframe before answering. "It's not really necessary. Mostly the residents know which houses are occupied."

"Don't tempt them, if my rats start talking back to me, I'm going to know who to blame," Ravi says with an accusatory pointed look at her, like she ought to know better than to tempt fate, despite the fact that Ravi has absolutely no idea what she's like, seeing as they've just met. He's still trying not to stare exactly, because it's weird and awkward and more pervy than he likes.

Sort of staring through his hands so he doesn't see anything at all, he tries to keep his attention away. "Here? Staring at you? Definitely not long enough to be creepy," he promises. "I'm just collecting some water," he says, "I'm using it for experiments, which aren't mad scientist like at all," he vows.

Clary noticeably brightened when he mentioned that he had a pencil that she could use. There was no way that she'd be able to hide her excitement. "Really? I can do that." She paused. "Sharpen it. I was an art student. Am-" She corrected herself. "...an art student." Not that she could technically continue being a student here but after everything that's happened she never once stopped thinking of herself as an artist.

"I can repay you." She paused. "Some how." Clary tried to think of a way that she could repay him but the only thing that came to mind would be drawing something and she didn't think he'd want that. "I'll think of something or maybe I can help you here." It would take a lot of instruction but Clary thought she could do it.

She took a sip of the water before speaking again. "Thank you." She thought about using ash as a writing source. "Ashe is very close to graphite." It would be softer than most pencils but she could probably make that work too.

Clary's mouth opened before snapping shut. "I should take a look at that." She could probably transcribe the map if she had the resources. Drawing was one of her talents and not having GPS in her phone was going to drive her crazy.

"Right. Did I catch you in the middle of something?" She felt like she was intruding on something.

Her eyes flickered to his tattoo. She didn't like school and the American educational system wasn't that great but she knew what that tattoo meant. History was one of the classes that she enjoyed before getting into the art school that she had applied too.

The last time Clary had been faced with this much awkward had been with Simon. She wondered how he was doing and hoped that he was alright. No matter how much has changed he was still the boy that she'd grown up with and she couldn't help but worry about him.

Clary exhaled. "Let me put my shirt back on." She slowly waded towards the shoreline using the black scrub shirt as a towel before tugging on a white tank top. She then slipped the scrub pants back on before loosely tugging on her boots. "There." Clary looked back at Ravi with an awkward smile. She wasn't as confident in so little clothing as Izzy was.

"So you're not a mad scientist and if your rats start talking I'd check to see if you're on something first." She paused. "There was that episode where the woman wanted to go on a diet and she got these glasses that made food talk to her and she starved because she couldn't eat." It was a messed up episode which was why it had stood out to her.

Clary had heard someone walking behind her but she hadn't considered that they'd be heading in her direction. Couldn't someone just lay on the side walk using a backpack as a pillow while completely drenched? Okay, she would freely admit that what she was doing was weird.

Bright emerald orbs peeked up at the stranger from behind thick eyelashes. It was to bright for her to open her eyes fully or to see more than a shadowy cut out of the man standing next to her.

Thin fingers rose to her forehead brushing away the bright orange strands before pushing herself up to a seated position. "Ah, yeah. I thought about that but the sun felt nice." It wasn't doing an awful job of drying her. "I don't know if I have dry clothes." She hadn't looked inside of the backpack yet.

Another second and Clary was pushes herself to her feet. "Where is this exactly?" She hadn't looked around before now and had assumed that she was somewhere in Central Park only this wasn't New York and it wasn't like any of the places she's visited before.

Jax ends up at the river more often than not because he likes swimming, goddamnit, and it's easier to take a dip in the river and go back to work on roofs and clearing out houses than to go back to his own house to take a bath. The redhead is new, though, and Jax makes a note of it; this place has more hot redheads per capita than goddamn Ireland and that's saying something. At least he knows he's not related to any of them here.

"If you care about me being naked, you probably want to go downriver," Jax says, stripping off his scrubs. "Because I'm not swimming in all my clothes just to avoid offending you."

He hates to admit it, but he feels a lot more comfortable when she starts getting dressed. It's not that he's a prude or anything, but he only really feels comfortable around other women in that level of nudity when he's reached an intimate level with them that he absolutely hasn't at this point, not here, not yet. "Sorry," he admits, seeing as he's made her go out of her way for this. "I just didn't want to stare and be pervy and lewd the first time we met."

"I think even if the flatware started talking to me, I'd just hush it up and eat. I don't know what they could say that would make me lose all appetite," he admits. "I mean, I know where burgers come from and still happily eat them."

Hey, Clary says, like she hasn't just climbed her way out of a fountain, like she's not sitting in the dirt of some mysterious village, like Isabelle hasn't been stuck here with no way out for four months, like Clary hasn't seen her in four months. It's casual, it's easy, and Isabelle is left standing with wide, disbelieving eyes, stunned into silence for what's likely to be the first time ever.

Just as it begins to dawn on Clary that this isn't quite right, Isabelle gets her senses about her. The other girl looks around in confusion, and Isabelle drops down to her knees to throw her arms around Clary's neck in a tight hug.

Finally, she's not alone anymore. Finally someone has figured out where she is and has come to get her out. With two of them here, surely they can figure out how to get back home.

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001 - Adding a bit more Flourish to it - [OPEN]

Around the 6I Village

Around the 6I Village

Arrival

Arrival

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Around the 6I village

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Around the 6I village

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River

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River

arrival

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arrival

at the river

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