sixthiterationlogs | 001 ][ One of these days the sky's gonna break

Entry tags:

001 ][ One of these days the sky's gonna break

WHO: Rose Hathaway
WHERE: Fountain. ???. Inn
WHEN: 16th - 19th
OPEN TO: Open To All: As for arrival things, happy to play either the actual coming through the fountain or if you’d prefer to handwave that and have had your character take in a drowned rat for a night? I’m down.
WARNINGS: Detailed below because there’s potentially quite a few...

A NOTE

The following may contain references to suicide, death, kidnapping, drugs (in the pseudo sense), biting/blood drinking and other hideous things you’d expect when referring to a character who has been held against her will by a stalker/vampire. Most of this isn’t likely to be openly discussed, but could still come up in the body of a tag. If you’re canon blind and are curious enough to want a little context as to what Rose was doing before arriving in 6I. You can check this out. Just be aware it contains… all the aforementioned trigger warnings.

Fountain

November 16th

She could still remember so clearly the thoughts and feelings that ran through her head as she stood on that bridge. The sound of rushing water beneath her promising an unpleasant death. The two story drop should have been enough to kill her but even if it hadn't, Rose wasn't a strong swimmer. The current and the cold would have taken care of the rest.

It wasn’t supposed to happen, though. She may well have accepted the possible inevitability of her death, had chosen it is a better alternative to what would have been done to her but Rose was not the kind of person to give in so easily. When death itself had failed to stop you in the past, you learned that the fight was never really over. Had she really just imagined what had happened next? Was it all just a twisted fantasy, conjured by her mind to offer comfort as she fell into the icy waters below.

The shock of cold against her skin made it feel that way, the seizing of her chest all that kept Rose from trying to inhale liquid death. Relief should have been found as she broke the surface but the air that filled her lungs felt like splinters of ice, the water that surrounded her almost preferable to the biting wind and sleet that battered her face.

A sound filled the air, one that struggled to compete with the whistling of the wind. An indecipherable call for help that was not unlike the howl of a wounded animal. If you could see past the fact that she was soaking wet and shivering uncontrollably as she made it to the edge of the fountain, you’d soon realise there was more wrong with her than just the cold. Puncture wounds ran a grizzly ladder along her neck, all in various stages of healing and the dark circles beneath her eyes, the scrapes that marked her arms all suggested that this new arrival came with a story. Whether she’d share it or not was another question.

It took every ounce of strength that she could muster just to pull herself up onto the ledge of the fountain, enough to keep her from slipping back into the waters and sinking to the bottom like a stone and while she knew that she had to keep going, her body begged for a moment's respite.

“Just one more minute.” Those words passing lips that were turning blue as she lay her cheek upon the stone and tried to shut out the cold.

???

November 17th

The light that attempted to tease her eyelids open was Rose’s only proof that she hadn’t dreamt her escape. The painful ache of every muscle in her body, further proof she hadn’t dreamt what had led to it. Fragments of memory tried to push their way to the forefront of her mind but the unfamiliarity of the bed she found herself in was a welcome and comforting change. She wanted desperately to cling to that illusion of safety, even if that made her an idiot. The only thing that mattered was that she’d escaped. That she’d ended it once and for all. That she was no longer the personal chew toy of her murderous ex.

Like trying to return to a dream after consciousness began to creep in, the more Rose tried to suppress those memories, the easier they came back to her, flashes of unfamiliar faces taunting her as the warmth of the bed became a point of concern. She’d been wet, waterlogged hair and clothes plastered to her skin, the weight of a backpack threatening to drag her into an icy grave.

“Stay back!” The sound of footsteps drawing near, interrupted her spiral of thoughts, Rose gritting her teeth against the throbbing pain of her ankle as she bolted upright and pushed herself back against the headboard, instinctively reaching for the first thing she could get her hands on.

“I’m armed.”

Words that would have been menacing if not for the fact that her weapon appeared to be a pillow.

The Inn

November 18th & 19th

Having spent most of her life in the mountains of Montana, you’d think Rose wouldn’t have an aversion to the cold, but after arriving in a fountain in the middle of an ice storm, exploring this place while e that was still raging outside, was the last thing on her mind. If she were smart, she’d be taking the time to rest her ankle and allow herself to recover but smart just wasn’t a word that many people would apply to the brunette in question.

Exploring the Inn was something she could manage, even if she was struggling with putting one foot in front of the other and she can be found snooping through various parts of the place, even areas she probably shouldn’t be. Rose is not the most social in circumstances such as these; in a foreign place with a bunch of strangers she’s not sure she can trust and while she needs help in understanding her situation, she’s really not big on the whole, asking for help thing. She’s not even good at the whole, letting people help her thing either so that’s hardly a shock.

She is a new face and despite the dark cloud that comes with feeling uncomfortable and unsure of this place, she at least manages not to look like she’s about to start a fight with somebody. Unless of course, she catches you staring at the wounds on her neck.

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Diana sighed as she pushed through the sleet as she made her way to the fountain. She knew that this probably would end up being a fruitless endeavor, but she had to go. Steve was there and so that meant that maybe someone else she knew would show up, someone else who should have been dead. If someone like Antiope showed up, she wanted to make sure that she was there for them.

More so in the current weather.

Her hands were shoved into her pockets and her chin was tucked down to her chest, trying to keepthe sleet from completely blinding her. She was Diana, daughter of Hippolyta, she could endure a lot worse than a mild chill and an easterly breeze (even if it was actually a lot more than that.).

Hearing the bone chilling howl, Diana's head snapped up. She had heard that sound many times in her life and she quickened her pace, no longer worried about not being able to see in the weather. Someone was injured and Zeus help her, she couldn't live with herself if anything happened to them in this weather.

Coming up to the fountain, she could just barely make out a figure curled up on the ledge of the fountain. Not even thinking about herself or the fact that she didn't have one of her powers, she was shrugging her coat off so she could drape it around the person there. "We can't stay out here," she said as she cautiously reached out and pushed a lock of hair out of the girl's face that was pretty much frozen. "Let me help you up and take you some place warm."

The coat would do little to immediately warm her, but what it did offer was a shield from the wind that whipped around them, Rose’s limbs protesting as her body instinctively tried to shrink behind the protective barrier it created. Diana’s words were carried by that wind, zipping around her and trying to penetrate the ice induced fog in her head and she mumbled a reply that was barely audible to her ears, nonsensical to anyone else's.

The part of her that knew how to survive was screaming for her to listen to this stranger, to be ever aware of the still present danger despite nobody with fangs lurking nearby. The childish part of her though, the one that wanted somebody to come along and make the pain go away, just wanted to ignore that instinct and find peace in being still. Everything hurt, and it wasn’t just physical. Hadn’t she earned at least a little peace by now?

The brunette groaned from the mere effort it took to open her eyes, the cold in the air stinging and making them water and she struggled to make out the features of the person who loomed over her, grimacing with the pain it took to simply swallow. Another time, it might not have been wise to try and touch a wounded Rose, but the fight she was always so quick to engage, had been burned out of her from the events of the evening that led her to here.

“I -” Can’t was not a word in her vocabulary, but it felt that way right now and while asking for help would make sense to almost anyone else, that too was something she wasn’t accustomed to.

“Not safe.” Barely able to spit those two words out through the chattering of her teeth, Rose still not fully aware that she had not in fact fallen into the river. “He…. he’ll be c-coming.”

Clary had been making her way down the hall when she heard a shout from the room in front of her. She hadn't intended to stop or peek inside, knowing that someone as passed out on the bed, but she was naturally curious.

She had been running that morning and still wore the black yoga capris that she had inherited from Isabelle and a dark purple sports bra. Runes dotted her skin while bright orange hair cascaded over her shoulder. She didn't look particularly threatening. Clary was thin and short but she held herself with confidence that suggested that she shouldn't be under estimated.

She leaned against the door frame and crossed her arms over her torso; not wanting to face the wrath of the pillow.

"What are you going to do to me with a pillow?" Clary asked, her lips tugging into a crocked smile. "This isn't going to turn into one of those weird girls-gone-wild-things is it? Because I'm opting out now." She didn't think her joke would land so she quickly tacked on a bit of explanation. "You're safe. You were pulled out of the fountain. It's how we all arrive here. Sort of like a freaky Twilight Zone."

Sam's room was...well. It was more of a work of art than anything else. It was all about the walls. She'd gotten her hands on some charcoal and ended up putting it to less than practical use, decorating the room with sweeping, panoramic scenes. One wall was a jungle. Another a cityscape. The third was some sort of underwater scene. The fourth remained blank, at the moment. Sam had been thinking about doing some kind of starscape, but was wondering if she had ambition enough to put that on the ceiling instead.

While she waffled with what to do, she decided to start tackling the door. It was probably against the rules or something. But Sam's regard for the rule was about as steadfast as the ground in San Francisco.

Which was to say, fuck rules.

She was sitting on the floor in the hallway, her fingers black with charcoal, as she began to outline her design on the bottom of her door. A dragon. Even if the Ordo Dracul was a million multiversal jumps away, she figured she owed it to them and herself to carry on their legacy.

Or something.

She was working on the curling toes of the dragon's hind feet when she noticed a girl who looked about her age, walking down the hall. The look in her eyes reminded Sam of Iris, right after she found out what Avery and the others had done to the Predator child.

Fun times.

"Hey," she said, against her better judgment. "You okay?" A pause. "Relatively speaking."

Major, for whatever reason, hasn't been around for all that many arrivals. At least, not in-motion arrivals. He generally tends to find folks after they've been here, catching sight of the hallmark dampened (or sometimes soaked, depending on how long they've been wandering around) scrubs, the bewildered and sometimes predatory gaze, the fear that radiates off of them.

He isn't sure whether he'd consider this his "lucky" day in so much that he seems to be stumbling upon the fountain when a woman's crawling, gasping, clawing her way through, but he can't help but feel a tad grateful that he happens to be there as she passes out shortly after hitting the ground. He gently touches her shoulder a few times to try and stir her but, when it seems that she's out cold to the world around her, he easily scoops the woman up in his arms. He glances around a few times before debating where to bring her - does he bring her back to the cabin he shares with Ravi? Does he bring her to the Inn? He decides that the Inn makes the most sense, and is probably the safest in case something goes wrong while he's not around. There are enough people around to check on her, especially if he lets them know that she's a new arrival and they see her state when he brings her in.

So after securing a room for her at the Inn, at least for the time being, he tries to tend to her as best he can. He .. doesn't really know what he's doing (Ravi's the doctor, after all), but he does what he remembers his mom doing for him whenever he was ill. He wraps her up in spare blankets, keeps her warm. He thinks of whether or not it'd be completely inappro to change her out of her wet clothes into her new ones and decides that it would be. Total creeper status, even in the name of good intentions. So he does the best he can to dry them off with towels and rags that he has available before burrito-ing her in a couple blankets.

At one point, he leaves to try and find Ravi to see if he could assist, and it's when he's on his way back into the room - holding a steaming hot bowl of stew from downstairs - that he discovers she's awake.

And brandishing a pillow.

"Normally, I'd say that isn't that much of a threat, that pillow you've got there, but, uh. With this bowl of soup stew whatever I'm holding, it turns into a pretty deadly thing. You throw that, hit the bowl, I'll turn into Freddy Kruger, I'm pretty sure." Keeping a watchful eye on the bowl to prevent himself from spilling the contents, he raises his other hand in the universal sign of surrender. "I just .. this soup is for you."

It had been a while since Jon had rescued anyone from the fountain but the skies were heavy with clouds that promised snow or ice and the wind had turned bitterly cold. As he made a lazy loop around the fountain park, he heard the splash of a head breaking water and drew closer, springing into action when he saw it was a woman.

He whipped off his cloak and reached for her, intending to offer it to her once she'd climbed out properly. "I'm here to help," he assured her, arms spread wide. "You're all right."

As far as plans went? This was one of her less thought out ones and that coming from Rose, was saying something. Still, she was committed to the pillow defense and for all the good it will likely do her? She was holding that thing like it might do some real damage. The disturbing thing about Rose is that hot stew or no? It probably could, though that had more to do with her than her ‘weapon’ of choice.

This would of course have gone a whole lot worse if she’d woken up naked, but unfortunately for both of them, this was not what she’d been wearing in her last few moments of clarity. The change in apparel might have been welcome in other circumstances but she was beginning to feel like she’d lurched from one kidnapping into another and Major wasn’t the first person who'd come bearing food, and they'd been part of the problem and not the solution.

“Who?!” It was hardly the thing to get fixated on but it was the one thing this stranger had said that tipped her off balance, Rose struggling to commit to her weak attempt at being menacing with the look of sheer confusion that crossed her features. Sure, Rose looked and even sounded like somebody who belonged to a world of television and movies but she always had been the epitome of looks being deceiving.

The scent of the stew wafted in her direction then, Rose’s stomach twisting in on itself as the hunger her previous state hadn’t allowed her to recognise, came back with a vengeance. She’d never been one of those women who ate like a bird and she couldn’t remember the last time she had a real meal. She’d been fed in that place but she’d rejected the food more often than she’d eaten it out of some misguided attempt to rebel against her captivity.

Her stomach gave a traitorous, audible growl and she appeared to relent a little as she eyed the steam rising up from the bowl he held, the pillow she wielded dropping slightly.

“How do I know it’s not…. Poisoned or something?”

There would come a point in time when Rose would likely grill Clary over how she got to dress like a normal person while she herself had nothing but the clothes she’d come with, an issue that would be a constant thorn in her side until she had something other than the set of almost pink scrubs to wear. Time and place though… even Rose could prioritise properly, sometimes.

The appearance of the girl with her flame red hair, was too jarring for her to care about her apparel for the moment, Rose unable to mask her surprise at seeing, well, a girl?! Between her youthful looks and the lock of door being locked from the outside? Rose was starting to realise that this was a different kind of trouble to what she’d been expecting.

And that was before the snark kicked in.

“What?!” Clary’s words disarming her in more ways than one, as she lowered the pillow a few inches. Shaking her head. “You’d be surprised by what I could do with a pillow.” God that was the kind of opening she would have jumped on, especially after the ‘girls gone wild’ crack.

“I’m not safe. I’m about three shades away from wearing a prison jumpsuit and I don’t even know where here, is.”

Unbeknownst to Sam, Rose had worked herself up to move down this corridor without letting her injuries be known, determined for some foolish reason to not allow those who were, for all intents and purposes, her fellow captives, to see that she was anything other than tip-top shape. Rose didn’t even like to show weakness to the people she considered her closest confidants, so same boat or no? She was all for being that idiot who tried to walk on swollen and twisted ankle just to prove that she was ‘fine’.

That went out the window the moment Sam opened her mouth, Rose coming to an uncomfortable stop a few feet away, a hand against the wall to steady herself as she shifted all her weight onto her good ankle.

“And by relatively speaking you mean, stuck in a place with no phones, no decent food and no actual way out?” The first and last was obvious but the second was not true to most, however, Rose lived on a diet of take out most days and there wasn't a danish or donut to be found around here.... at least not from her investigations.

“Well I’m not dead, so. I guess that counts as okay…” Her tone dry. She wasn’t likely to be the first newcomer to these parts to respond with sarcasm to her new situation. “Everything else falls under the relative banner.”

The waiting arms of a stranger, should have under the circumstances been a welcome sight but as disoriented as she was, for one brief moment, all Rose saw was the dark hair that framed Jon’s face and instinct saw her try to recoil. It’s not him. She knew it wasn’t, but for that flicker of a moment, there was an unmistakable flash of fear in her eyes.

That she chose the water as a safer alternative in this weather, said much about her present situation, the brunette trying to make out his features through the sleet and rain that whipped around them, running through a mental checklist as she looked from his eyes to his mouth then back again.

She might have thought him Dhampir, if not for where she’d just come from, Rose’s arms straining from the effort it took just to keep from slipping from the fountains edge.

“For now…” She’d believe she was alright when she was as far from this place as she could possibly be, the Dhampir still not realising that she was not where she thought or expected to be. Then here he was, this stranger who probably was just trying to help and she couldn’t help but feel a pang of guilt at the belief that helping her would probably get him killed.

“It’s not…” Shaking her head as the cold saw her words stick in her throat. “…safe.”

"It's not safe to stay out here, my lady," Jon said, insistent on that front. The wind had already started to pick up and the temperature had dropped. He'd lived in the North long enough to know the harbingers of a storm and he didn't want her to freeze in the fountain if he could help.

"I assure you, I mean no harm. I simply want to get you inside where you can warm up. It's far too cold to be out here with wet clothing - you'll freeze."

"Who what? Who what??" Major asks in a slight panic, wondering if he should just drop the bowl and take off. If it was a fight based solely on physical strength, he figures he could probably win; she seemed light and slight enough as he carried her to the Inn, but she's obviously got some .. uh, damage going on that might make her a more formidable foe. As in .. someone who probably had to survive under harsh conditions instead of teetering on Hipster status for most of his adult life living in the suburbs of Seattle.

The bowl's getting hotter by the second, and he's carefully trying to switch back and forth between each of his hands in order to alleviate some of the eventual pain. It isn't working super well, but it's better than standing there, in the middle of the room, looking like a total idiot.

Wait.

He probably already looks like one, with how things are going. But he's going to pretend like he looks super debonair and cool, trying to do the right thing by taking in a stranger and feeding them stew and helping to nurse them back to health. That's totally what's going on here, right?

"I mean, I can eat some of it, if you want? If you don't care that I use the same spoon as you? I mean, I get the whole 'ew, germs' thing, so if you really don't wanna share the spoon, I can get another one from downstairs. But I really just .. I really need to put this bowl down. It's burning the crap out of my hands."

Diana's eyebrows drew together as she looked down at the younger woman. She looked horrible, though to be fair no one really looked great when they came out of the fountain. But it wasn't just her coming out of the fountain, she looked injured and just completely beat. Diana didn't know what had happened to this woman, but her heart went out to her.

Her gaze darted around, almost as though she might be looking for this man that was being talked about. Though, she figured that whoever this man was, he wasn't here and so she didn't think that was something she had to worry about at the moment. What she did need to worry about was this woman and the fact that if she didn't get her inside soon, it was likely that she would die of hypothermia and Diana couldn't let that happen.

"Let's get you somewhere you might be safer," Diana said as she moved to shift her arm under the dark haired woman so she could help her sit up. Though she wasn't as strong as when she had her powers, her training had given her more strength than a normal person so she wouldn't have much problems helping her walk when it came to it.

"Come on, put your arm around my neck and I'll help you to the inn. There's a fireplace and hot food and drink."

As it happened, Sam liked sarcasm. She didn't just like it, she kind of respected it. In that same vague way she really respected anything at first glance. So the other girl's response earned something of a smile and a snort from Sam. She stood up, rubbing the charcoal on her hands off on the legs of her pants. "The relative banner becomes a close friend real fast around here," she said. "If you've ever heard the expression 'let your freak flag fly' just say that quietly to yourself whenever someone asks you how you're doing here."

It didn't actually help all that much. But there was always some comfort in ritual. Some stability.

You could almost call it control.

Almost.

She hooked her thumbs through her back belt loops, rocking on the balls of her feet. Sam was a shark. Even when she was standing still, she was moving. She had to. Her life depended on it. If she was still for even a second, she would die. "I'd say something like 'welcome,' but it feels fucking vulgar, you know? Right up there with 'congratulations, you have a hernia' or something."

She knew at least enough about the cold from where she grew up to realize that trying to stay out here was the worst possible life choice. Knew, that as much as she might not want his help, that was trumped by the fact that she rather needed it.

The problem was that she also knew that if she had failed in doing what she’d intended, that in accepting his help she was as good as signing his death warrant. If Dimitri were to catch up with them. She was pretty sure he’d draw that torture out before he force fed her the Koolaid but this guy? He’d be dead before the word ‘halt’ could pass his lips.

This would be much easier to process if she’d click to the fact that rivers don’t have convenient concrete ledges for you to cling to.

All of this plays out in silent worry across her features, the cold turning her lips blue before the decision could be seen in her eyes. Offering little more than a curt nod, Rose again tried to get herself out of the water, teeth gritted as she tried to push past the painful ache in her muscles, dragging one leg after the other up onto the ledge.

“Do you… have any… weapons?” Struggling to get those words out between the violent chattering of her teeth.

“That’s… what I said?” Completely missing the point of his response. Those she knew back home were used to her inability to keep up with pop culture and they spent about as much time on the internet as she did. Rose had yet to truly master the art of email. It was that annoying thing Janine Hathaway (her mother) would use to contact her on rare occasions and nothing more. If she wanted to talk to somebody, she’d just… go and speak to them in person. Rose didn’t even have a cell phone. She was a Hipster's worst nightmare.

There was at least, something oddly reassuring about his little bowl dance. Rose was fairly certain that to have a hope of besting her in a fight, he’d need to be able to handle a little hot dish action and the pillow she’d been wielding, slowly lowered to her lap as a result. Injured or not? Rose was confident that she could take him. She’d just survived fighting a 6’7 wall of muscle on crack. Sorry, Major.

“Well… I’m not twelve, so the whole, ew germs thing, isn’t really an issue.” So, not somehow working for the people who’d been holding her captive before. The fact that she was still breathing had suggested as much but their lackeys were a mixed bag of scared of her or suffering from a serious superiority complex. Like worshipping a bunch of dead guys walking made them better than her or something.

“Why don’t you give me the bowl before you hurt yourself.” Her stomach rumbling again as she reached for it. At least those words lacked the bite she’d offer to somebody she really didn’t like or trust. Not that the opposite was true just yet, but Major was good at coming off as non-threatening and she’d been surrounded by enough predators lately to find that change welcome.

“You seem way too nice to be a homicidal maniac.”

Erik is in a bit of a grumpy mood. Grumpier than usual, anyway. What he wants right now is to be inside, in his house where it's warm and dry, maybe with Claire for company. But the situation as it is right now doesn't allow that, so instead he's passing through the village, bundled up against the wet cold in various items of clothing that he's cobbled into something warm: jeans, which hopefully won't get too damp, mismatched hat and scarf, a hint of magenta scrubs peeking out underneath the jacket, a copy of which she will eventually discover in her backpack. His hands are shoved in his pockets and his collar is turned up against the cold.

He's passing by the fountain when he hears a familiar sound. The moment is reminiscent of his own arrival, expect that it had been snow then instead of ice. The shock of the freezing air on wet skin is something he remembers well though. There's one thing for sure: this is not the ideal time of year to be arriving in the village.

He's tempted, for one brief moment, to keep walking past in search of some warmth. There are people through here often enough that someone else will notice a new arrival. But in the end, he can't. He knows what it would mean to leave someone out here by themselves right now. It's one thing to choose to end a life; it's another thing entirely to stand by and watch when circumstances take away the choice, or the ability to do anything about it.

"One more minute isn't going to help you get used to the change in location any faster, or the fact that it happened." Although he knows how jarring it is to show up here unexpectedly, and how much time it can take to adjust to the new surroundings. "What one more minute out in this weather could do, however, is kill you." He offers a hand, to help her get the rest of the way out of the fountain. "It's warm at the inn, and there's food."

He hadn't planned on having an occupant in one of his spare rooms, and in fact he's been less attentive to them as he has of the rest of the house because they've never been used. But they're livable, and warm, and have never been stripped of sheets or curtains to be used for another purpose. So when he'd made his usual daily trip to the inn yesterday and discovered someone in need of lodgings, at least temporarily, he'd offered a spare room. It's quiet in the house now that it's just him, and he thought that maybe it would be nice to have someone else around, if only for a day or two.

It's like Neverland all over again, bringing Lost Boys home with them. Except that he and this woman have never had reason to try and kill each other.

He stands in the doorway, the black scrub top faded after months of frequent wear. The leather pants (also in black) are probably not the most practical, but he prefers them to the scrub pants anyway. He feels more like himself. Though the hook on the end of his left hand does a good job of helping with that, too.

"I've faced worse." But he won't fault her for reacting that way. He knows what it's like to be on your guard. The only reason he hadn't been worse when he arrived was because Emma was already here. "There's breakfast in the kitchen if you want, or you can find something at the inn."

The move to help her was enough to see Rose try and help herself, no longer able to just play the part of the lump who could not or would not be moved. Every inch of her body protested at the effort it took to get into an upright position, Rose leaning into Diana far more than she would have in any other situation. She would have been far more difficult, if not for the events of the last couple of weeks, and the fact that she was freezing.

The promise of heat, of food and drink at least gave her some measure of hope, not just her need for all of the above, but because it was perhaps less likely Dimitri would pursue her to a place that might be public. All this would make more sense if she would stop and think long enough to process the fact that rivers did not have concrete ledges, but there would be time for the fog in her head to clear, for the cold to stop slowing her thoughts.

The violent chattering of her teeth had Rose convinced they might shatter at any moment, her cheeks and nose, unprotected as they were, growing numb from the onslaught of wind and ice and she stole herself a moment of just sitting with this stranger, bracing for the pain of trying to walk when all she wanted to do was sleep.

“Are there… weapons?” That last word was choked off by the soft cry of pain that rose up despite the expectation of it, Rose instinctively putting more weight on Diana, just to keep it from being on her ankle. "At the Inn?" Some part of her knew that she should apologise or say thank you, but niceties were the kind of thing you saved for later. You know, when you weren’t convinced you were about to be killed. All she needed to do was make it till daylight, at least, so she thought.

“If he comes for me… you need to run.” Without her, she meant. Not that Rose would have told Diana any of this if she’d known what was really going on, but the arrival by water was making for a lot of confusion right now.

A question shone in her eyes, but remained just that. There was something in Sam’s words and her manner of speaking that promised this place was far more than just some backwards hick settlement in the middle of god knows where. Rose had known that the second she realised that the bond was gone, but it was amazing how you could comfort yourself with a few lies while trying to adapt to what was basically… yet another kidnapping. The whole frying pan to fire situation was not one she was overly impressed with.

“Here I was thinking they weren’t so big on freaks around here.” It’s vague enough that she might not realise what Rose was saying. It’s not like she had a sign on her shirt that read ‘former Dhampir who could see dead people: ask me how’. Still, the very things that made her a freak by most standards, didn’t appear to be a factor anymore. Not what Sam had meant of course, but it was where Rose went with it in her mind.

As determined as Rose had been to not like… anyone here, it was impossible to mask the grin that dared to touch her lips, Rose just as appreciative of sarcasm and brutal honesty as the woman in front of her seemed to be.

“Trust me, I appreciate the lack of welcome.” Her weight shifting awkwardly as she continued to insist on disguising her injury. “I swear if one more person tries to feed me a line of bullshit about being safe here…”

It’s what she’d been hearing since her arrival and while it might be true that she didn’t have to worry about a certain somebody trying to kill her, that didn’t mean everything was sunshine and roses.

“It’s like they think imprisonment is just a fancy word for vacation.”

Had he been softer or more concerned, she may well have given into the desire she had to just lay here. As childish as it was to long for somebody to come along and fix everything for you, the events of the day had rendered her so physically and mentally exhausted that for once in her considerably short life, she would have been perfectly happy to let somebody else take the wheel for a while. Rose would have regretted it later, of course. Would have been downright angry at herself for allowing anyone that kind of power over her but she could perhaps be forgiven for wanting it, in light of recent events.

What he offered instead, was something painfully familiar, his words and tone that of one of the Guardians back at the Academy. A reminder of a life she’d freely walked away from, for all the good that had done for her. Hard facts were something her brain could latch onto and it was enough to see her fight against the cold to open her eyes, squinting up at him from her pathetic, dangling position on the concrete ledge of the fountain. He gave voice to everything she knew to be true but longed to ignore, became the physical representation of the survival instinct that she had been trying to shove aside. All this with the extension of a hand that only an idiot would refuse to accept.

She thought about being that idiot, however, at least for several long moments but the threat of danger still lurked in the back of her mind, and it had to be better to trust this stranger than to stay out here with the cold, the water and the murderous ex she mistakenly believed to be lurking.

Struggling to keep herself out of the water with one arm, the other hand grasped Erik’s, Rose’s teeth gritted with determination, as with his help she managed to emerge from the fountain. Regret immediately slammed into her with the sudden gust of wind and ice, her damp clothes more a hindrance than a help against the elements as she struggled not to trip over herself. The moment she tried to plant both feet on the ground, pain shot through her body, the hand that had held Erik’s a moment before, moving instinctively to grip his arm as she pushed all her weight onto her good ankle. She was cold, wet and injured and somehow had to be ready for a possible attack by a man she’d once likened to a god… on crack.

“Are you armed?”

She was painfully aware of how ridiculous she must look, trying to wield a pillow like it was a sword but his appearance in the doorway to her room, meant that she was committed to it now. A lamp she could have worked with but this? Rose knew that she could inflict some serious damage on a person, without the need of a weapon but she was looking for a deterrence, not something to bludgeon with. As much as she was willing and capable of fighting her way out of whatever mess she’d landed herself into this time, didn’t mean she wanted to have to.

Dark eyes scrutinized the man before her, taking in his dark clothes and wondering, or perhaps it was better to say, wishfully thinking that he might in fact be like her. A Dhampir. A Guardian. An ally and not another brainwashed idiot who was working with the Strigoi. There was something familiar about him at least but her memories of the night before were at best? Hazy. She’d been cold, she’d been wet and she’d been fussed over. Somehow that had led to her being here… wherever here was.

“Wait -” Wanting to be sure he wasn’t about to disappear on her just as quickly as he appeared. “Questions…” Rose’s gaze falling to the hook that was where his hand should have been, and yet she skipped over asking the obvious on that front. “Who are you. Where am I and what the hell happened to my clothes??” Not that she was sorry to be rid of them but she’d still like them back at some point. Anything had to be better than whatever the hell these pink things were.

Diana didn't know what to make of this woman, but she sensed there was a strength in her that she just wasn't able to show at that moment. She did feel bad for her though. It was bad enough coming to in the fountain but to come to while there was a storm? Whoever had brought them here had a strange and warped sense of humor and not one that she really cared for.

Her gaze dropped down to the other woman's ankle and her lips pressed together. If she had her powers she would have been able to carry her to the inn with no problem. But, she didn't have her powers and so she would have to work with what she had. She shifted slightly, sliding her arm around the woman's back so she was supporting her better.

"Weapons... There are communal weapons available. Bows and arrows, snares, harpoons, spears, slingshots, things like that." Things that might have seemed primitive but definitely better than having nothing at all. "But those aren't things you need to worry about. No one is going to allow you to be hurt." At least she wouldn't allow anyone to hurt her and if she had to she would make sure Steve watched out for her too.

"I run from no man," she responded bluntly. No man scared her and she wasn't about to let them do so in this strange place. "Come, though the inn isn't far, the weather will make it seem farther." She hesitated for a moment and glanced over at her. "My house is closer. You can dry up, we can bandage you and then get you to the inn."

There are options for clothes though they are few and far between. In Clary's case, she had inherited them from a friend who had since disappeared from the village. This wasn't her usual style, she was showing way to much skin, but it was more familiar than wearing the scrubs. They were comfortable but they always made her feel like she was a hospital patient.

Her eye brow arched at Roses's continued threats. "Just don't throw it. Then you'll be weaponless." Clary couldn't stop herself from teasing a little bit. She was being threatened by a pillow. It made her think of Simon and the number of times he had thrown a pillow at her. The reasons were often stupid but she missed those simple interactions. Now everything was more complicated.

"You're fine." Clary's arms dropped down to her sides. "Whatever this village does, however our hosts-" The word was spoken with a noticeable level of annoyance. "-bring us here. It's with conditions. So whatever you did-" She waved her arms in the air as if to fill in the blanks. She didn't understand Rose's situation but Clary couldn't find any reason to be nervous. Peoples powers were taken away and she was trained enough to face off against a human, it was demons she was worried about and she hadn't seen any since she first arrived.

"Unless you're going to start clawing at people. Then we might have some problems."

To be honest, the people who'd become complacent in this place annoyed Sam more than anyone else. But when the other girl said that, it was like she released a breath she hadn't known she'd been holding. "Right?" She shook her head, the synthetic curls of her wig bouncing off of her shoulders a little bit. "There are some people here who actually seem masochistic enough to enjoy being put in one giant Skinner Box. Like they've just been waiting their whole lives to be part of a big experiment."

One that she had yet to see IRB approval for.

Fucking social sciences.

Wiping down her hand again, Sam offered it to the girl. "I'm Sam," she said. "Los Angeles, 2014. It's kind of a name-rank-serial-number thing going on around here. Who you are, where you're from, when you're from."

Shit, she hoped the other girl already knew about the multiverse shenanigans. While Sam enjoyed explaining the science of it, she found that people's eyes tended to start glazing over when she go into relativity and the history of Einstein's original mathematics.

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001 ][ One of these days the sky's gonna break

Fountain

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NOVEMBER 17TH

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16 November - fountain

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fountain

November 17th

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