sixthiterationlogs | [OTA - MINGLE] Town Hall meeting

Entry tags:

[OTA - MINGLE] Town Hall meeting

WHO: Mark Watney
WHERE: Town Hall
WHEN: 10 Dec 2017, sundown
OPEN TO: All, mingle
WARNINGS: N/A

Since that tense standoff in front of the peach trees, Kira and I have been waiting to see whether the promises in the letter he'd received would come to fruition. I'd actually left the stolen papers out there longer than I'd intended, not wanting to disrupt the process further if I hadn't already ruined it by catching him in the act. Now that he's confirmed to me the arrival of what, for most people here, would probably be a collection of true treasures, I can't put off the inevitable. We need to let everyone know what's happened, and find out if we're alone in being targets.

Because this morning, I received a "mission" of my own, in the form of a box filled with 3 vacuum-packed, single servings of ground coffee. Speaking of treasure.

Before the breakfast rush, I made a note on the blackboard in the Inn's front room, the writing big and bold enough that nobody should miss it:

VILLAGE MEETING TONIGHT, TOWN HALL, SUNDOWN

Fortunately, there's little enough to entertain a person in this place that plenty of people show. Kira's in the front row with his "gifts," presumably ready to back me up despite not seeming to like me much yet. I guess I can't blame him, although I'd be lying if I said I didn't miss the rapport I had with Old Him.

"Hey, everyone," I call out, waving to get the small crowd's attention. "I asked everybody here tonight because we've had a development that I think we all need to know about. Kira here—" I pause, pointing. "Not too long ago, he got a letter. It asked him to steal something of value from someone and take it to the peach trees over on the East Side. It said if he did that, he would be rewarded. When he tried to get rid of the letter, another copy would always turn up. So, he did it. And putting aside that dubiousness for a moment, the reward was delivered. He found some items from his home that couldn't have gotten here without intervention from our hosts. Today, I actually got a box of coffee with a note asking me to take a portion and pass it on. Like a game or a chain letter. The note I got was threatening — If I don't do as asked, it says there will be a punishment. So."

I pull in a deep breath and spread my hands. "I know there's only so much we can realistically do about all of this, but has anybody else gotten anything like this?"

[If you want to thread with Mark directly, please say so in your subject line and let me know. Otherwise, this is a MINGLE and folks can jump around at will. Have at!]

Threaded | Top-Level Comments Only

Elena was still relatively new, still dealing with the whole idea of being here at all, and though there were a lot of familiar faces, she hadn't gotten to know most of them on anything more than a visual level.

Still, Mark's words cause something almost painful in the pit of her stomach even as he first starts to talk about it, because it all sounds very familiar.

She speaks up before her nerves force her to stay silent.

"I did." Her voice sounds loud in her ears. "Mine has coffee in it, too."

She doesn't know if that part in particular is relevant, but it's worth mentioning either way.

Kira's hardly taken off Ty's coat since he found it while unpacking the brick house for the winter. It hadn't been mentioned or included with his second letter, which had unfolded around a photograph of his younger sister--but been stuffed at the bottom of the sled, under piles of jeans and a slew of hideous belts. The same coat, sporting evidence of the same blood stain, that had been taken off him when they'd left him for dead in the street. And there had been his cards in the pocket, if nothing else from that day.

How was he to know they'd already been there? He'd presented them all to Mark, without in-depth explanations of their relevance, and given the coat one last scrub before working it into his day to day wardrobe.

He sits hunched in it by Mark as he speaks, waiting for the opportunity to weigh in. Once Mark caught him on the other side, his willingness to play along notwithstanding, he'd known he'd have to explain his actions eventually. They didn't seem like a malicious or vindictive group, but--that could change. Better to get ahead of it in an organized setting.

"They didn't mention punishments in mine, but it felt a bit implied," he starts, getting up with his hands in his pockets, each one around another piece of home. "Some of you seem to have known me before, so I hope you'll understand that I wouldn't normally take anything, but choices are easier when they don't feel like you really have one." Pulling the photo of Chiyo carefully from his pocket, he holds it up to the light: "They sent me another letter a few days ago, offering me this for my cooperation. It's a picture of my sister. It even has the place and date written on the back."

For Mark

When things started to calm back down, the villagers talking to each other after asking their questions, Kira drifts back into Mark's orbit. He's been a good sport about it all, which was hardly warranted, and Kira has to wonder--how much of it was because of before? What had he done, how had he lived, to secure any standing with these people?

Given a few weeks to absorb it all, curiosity starts to bud in all the bitterness.

"Hey," he says, catching Mark at the arm, the photograph still in his other hand. "Thanks, for letting this play out. I didn't go into it hoping for much, but--these things aren't nothing, to me."

Edited 2017-12-11 01:12 (UTC)

Even feeling the way she's feeling, Claire knew going home wasn't the best idea. If she did have a mild concussion from the fall then sleeping was out of the question for at least a few more hours. She doubted it, but one could never be too careful and she would be quite the hypocrite for giving others a hard time for not taking care of themselves if she didn't do it herself.

It was after stepping into the inn that she noticed the note on the blackboard, remembering the neat printing and the botanist she'd met a couple months prior.

Turning, Claire looks towards the door that she had just came in through pauses before making the the decision to walk over, as painful as would be because obviously something was going on.

Once inside, she stood inside the entrance, leaning against a piece of wall while listening to bits and pieces of conversation happening between the other villagers that gives her enough to figure it out. None of it sounds good, yet 'weird' and 'ominous' seems to be the how best to describe the place.

Claire scoffs and shakes her head. "Unbelievable."

Robb had never so much as heard of coffee before arriving in this place. The first of the strange feasts he'd attended, there had been so much talk of the drink, he'd tried it himself. A pleasant scent, he'd thought, but beyond that he'd entirely missed the attraction. Still, he's not at all surprised that whomever has placed them here would use it as a bargaining chip; in his experience, people here talk of missing it more than nearly anything else.

"And it had a letter? Was it the same, threatening retaliation?"

If there's one thing I can say about this place for sure, it's that presuming you can predict anything completely is a bad idea. For someone like Kira, who's had to deal with the weirdness of being here a second time, and all the expectations that go with it... I can't have expected things to go any more smoothly than they did. I guess I can at least say I got some exercise.

"Hey, thanks for telling me," I reply. "If you hadn't, I don't think anybody would have blamed you. We're kinda playing this game without knowing the rules. But I'm glad you at least got something out of it."

Not least because if he hadn't, there would have been no way to know if we'd done something to cause it, or if the letter had just been a lie.

Bela is here for the meeting, but she's lingering at the back of the town hall, arms folded. She hasn't received any letters nor any other goods so she isn't quite sure how she could contribute to the overall discussion.

Yet.

Part of her knew that coming here would be a good place to meet people and engage with her fellow villagers, maybe even find a roommate along the way. She's kept to herself for the past while, only coming out whenever she needed something; it had to change if she wanted to survive the harsh winter.

Despite not looking very open for a conversation, Bela won't say no to any company if people approach her.

Jude had been similarly hovering: he didn't like to get near the front of the meetings, especially after the long day of reporting in on the specimen room. Lucky for him, he hadn't lost or been asked to steal anything, so he had nothing much to add. Just one more tick of a box, another weird thing about the place.

He trusts Mark and the others to handle it, somehow, and has mostly been scanning the space for Bodhi and the dog, worried some proximity to Kira and his letter would rub off in some way.

Instead, a woman's voice pulls his attention to the side, and he forgets the meeting as he takes in the state of her. "What happened to you," he asks, arms crossed but his fingers shifting to open their grip on his upper arms, in case they're somehow needed: "Are you alright?"

It is company she gets when Margaery finds her way over to the distrustful woman she met not long before she became sick. It wasn't a surprise to see her at the meeting and she seemed just as unapproachable as before, not that it ever made a difference to Margaery.

She hadn't received a letter either, but that didn't mean very much. Strange things like that always happened in this world. It was another game the Observers were playing with them. A game they had no idea of the outcome or the rules.

"How have you managed so far?" She asked, genuinely concerned and curious.

"Given a choice between you actively trying to kick my ass or telling the village at large to do so, and the punishments of people not yet proven to exist? Telling you seemed easier. I wouldn't want to deface the memory of old-me by making you all think he was one head-trauma away from antisocial behavior."

Not that most people weren't, but the common thread in all the weird reactions and memories has been--people liked him. Relied on him. When it doesn't just chafe, it starts to mean something.

"Did you go back for any of it," he asks, looking around the room. "If not, now might be the time to start getting names and dates again."

She nods again. She wishes she had brought it with her, instead of leaving it behind in her room, but she hadn't thought this would be about that.

"The letter said I had to pass it on within three days or 'bad luck will befall you.'" She does air quotes around her head, though she decides not to use a fake ominous voice, if only because the whole thing already unsettles her.

"I wasn't sure if I should take it seriously or not, or if I should be worried that there's something wrong with it and it wants me to pass it on to get to as many people as possible."

"I got a letter too." Moana admitted feeling a little sheepish about not bringing it up earlier. Ned was the only other person who knew that she had gotten a letter. "It was about five weeks ago. I didn't want to steal anything so I left something that I found here that wasn't... technically mine. It didn't do anything."

She paused before continuing from the beginning of the story. "The letter kept showing up. The first time I ripped it up, the next day I burned it and the third day... I think I dissolved it in water." Moana had been finding very creative ways to get rid of the letter. "It showed up outside first and then in the kitchen and then in my bed room at the inn. I never saw who left it and until I did what it said it kept coming back."

It had been very unsettling.

Clary was sitting on the sidelines, watching as the meeting took place. She didn't have anything to add to Mark's spiel but she had come to listen and people watch. Her bright emerald green eyes slowly made a pass through the people who had gathered as she picked at a small plate of meat that she had swiped from the kitchen. What was a show without a snack?

She doubted this was everyone trapped in the village but it was probably at least half of the people stuck here? Interesting.

Clary recognized some people but not everyone. Those she didn't recognize she tried to remember so that she could learn their names later. If there was an ax murder among them she was going to find out. Thank's to Ravi and his over active imagination she now slept with her bedroom door locked.

Clary would flash a smile at anyone she made eye contact with though she didn't seem to eager to remove herself from the bar stool that she'd perched herself on. She was comfortable where she was.

In front of her was a small pile of papers. If anyone walked closer they would see that they were copies of the village maps that Clary had been making with the paper she'd gotten from Jude over a month and a half ago.

Not immediately noticing the unfamiliar face, Claire slowly glanced over a few seconds later when it registered she was being spoken to. That mostly had to do with weed she'd smoked shortly before coming to the hall, though it wasn't enough to be totally obvious right then.

Unconsciously, she looked down at her arm because that seemed to remind her of that answer and Claire nodded nodded. "I will be. This is what happens when you think you can do something dumb like cut and collect your own firewood."

At least she was being honest and saying it suddenly made her laugh at her own expense.

"I'm Claire. Don't think we've met." she said, sticking out her hand.

It was the letter that caught Lyanna's otherwise shifting attention. Pulling out an envelope of her own from her cloak pocket, she unfolded the letter and held it up for others to see. "I received something as well, but it didn't tell me to steal anything. It said that I should harm someone, physically or emotionally. I tried to destroy it as well, but another appeared on my doorstep."

It looked to be the same block letters from the note Beverly had received and now Kira's. Only now it seemed that everything was being escalated. "Are these being chosen for us specifically? Some are only being told to steal, others to hurt fellow villagers."

"Jude," he replied, shaking it gingerly--more for her sake than his own. No telling what else got banged up in whatever happened to her face. He'd done enough to himself in his months here that it didn't startle him to see it on someone else. It was winter: it didn't have to be some crazy village upheaval for people to get hurt.

"I've been trying to stockpile wood," he admitted, even as he wondered how big a list he should collect. Maybe better to just start putting it in the storehouse with the food, let everyone get what they needed. "I could leave some out for you, if you wanna tell me a place. I wondered why we didn't just all hole up in the inn over winter, but. One bathroom."

Ravi has absolutely not received any strange chain mail letters, which is for the best because the last time he got a spam email like that, he'd deleted it even though it swore that his mother would die in seven minutes if he didn't. It's a good thing she hadn't, because superstition over that sort of thing is the last thing that Ravi needs. Still, here? Here, it's not at all a superstitious thing, because he well and truly believes that the consequences are true.

That said, this seems...well, he's not entirely sure that you can be threatening when you're insisting that someone shares. Well, you could be, in his mind, but it sort of turns into a mental image of a tiny little kindergartner with his hands on his hips, a lisp, and a very adorable demand that sharing is caring and teamwork.

Clearly, Liv on maternal brains the one time is more than enough to scar him. "I'm just saying," he says, raising his hand, "that if you're hoping to avoid punishment from our benevolent overlords, I'll help with that coffee," he says, with a point to the various packs around, acting like it might be a true hardship when really, he might actually go into catatonic and euphoric shock at his first sip in so long.

"I did. It was all right where we left it." Meaning, it wasn't the items our overlords were after, but inciting the act. What that means in the grander scheme, I couldn't tell you, but it's a piece of the puzzle we didn't have before.

"Turn out was good, though," I add with a glance around the room. "Not that anybody has much else going on."

"That's a good question." Even with as long as Robb had been in this place, he couldn't have begun to guess at the answer. "It's possible the only way we'll find out is if you do it. Well, or don't. I've no idea what 'bad luck' entails, but it's more than a little worrying." It could be something as simple as dropping your dinner, or as serious as injury or even death.

Clint came to the meeting, of course - any meeting that Mark called, something important was up, even if it was just about organizing daily work rosters for harvest. None of the communal gatherings have been pointless, a fact that he appreciates, and most of them haven't been for emergency situations, which he also appreciates. This one doesn't strike him as an emergency, but rather something they have to watch for, be wary of, and try and find some sort of reason for it.

It was entirely possible the Observers were just massive assholes.

But Clint's been on guard about this since he found Bev trying to destroy her own letter in their fireplace. He'd even offered to steal for her, but they were both in doubt about that being effective since Bev had gotten the orders. But here, now? He has a possible out for this place, or at least a way of finding more information. For that, he's willing to risk quite a lot. So when Lyanna finishes explaining about her letter, and the new conditions, he speaks up.

"If you - or anybody who got one of those letters - want to hurt someone to see what happens, you can hurt me. I'm willing to try just about anything to find a way home."

By the time Margaery had come over to her, Bela hadn't moved from her spot. She was still quietly observing things going on around her, watching some people with interest.

"Better than I thought. I'm alive." Her tone is dry. "Which must count for something." The best way to deal with someone acting concerned towards her was to go for humour. Or sarcasm.

Gesturing around the room, Bela continued. "Are these meetings a regular thing or is it just because of what Mark said?"

"That sits super well with me," he intones, dropping his gaze to the middle distance before closing his eyes entirely. He opens them with the barest shake of his head. "I'm glad I proved a point to someone. Sometimes, humans are selfish and self-serving, who fucking knew.

"At least we didn't lose the sled-thing. What are those supposed to be, anyway?"

Annie doesn't go still. She goes still when she panics, sometimes, but this isn't panic. This is just sudden, gripping unease, and that she has dealt with all her life. Sudden stillness can catch a Peacekeeper's attention, if they are being dicks or paranoid. New ones, especially. So she doesn't go still when Lyanna speaks up and she doesn't go still when Clint talks.

From her perch next to Finnick (really, behind might be a more accurate description, as the small woman is hiding behind her husband as much as one can while, technically, sitting next to them) Annie focuses on Clint, and chews the inside of her lip thoughtfully. She couldn't do it. He's a solid, strong man with massive shoulders, he carries himself like he knows how to handle himself, and he could hurt her, badly. She doesn't know him, trust him, enough for this.

Not unless Finnick was there to swoop in and use the advantage of youth on top of his physical prowess and training to rescue her if things go wrong.

But, well, it's an idea. It's an idea that she and Finnick have already raised amongst themselves, and she already has the counters in her head. Does it count if the target invites it? Offers it, welcomes it?

Except that the words are stuck in her suddenly parched throat. The words, the knowledge, of admitting what the Gamemakers want her to do, twists inside her and she can't, she can't say it. She does, however, have that convenient husband.

Finnick will find a sudden, sharp elbow in his side, with Annie looks up at him with her eyebrows arched. She glances at Clint then back to Finnick, tilting her head in a gesture of both what do you think? and please say my words for me?

It's one of those things between the two of them that is not really an agreement, more a mutual sort of understanding: usually, it's Finnick who speaks up in the meetings. It goes back to Panem, to times when he as mentor had to step in and speak for her while she went further and further into the maelstrom of her thoughts. He's the charismatic one, the one used to drawing people's attention every time he walks into a room. He's the one who learned to charm Panem all those years ago in the parade, in the interview, in the events he'd done after his victory.

He glances across when she elbows him and he gives a nod so brief as to be barely perceptible. He doesn't want to admit what they'd asked her to do either, but pretending that he's asking for his own sake is an easy enough lie to a man used to living lies.

"You think that still fits their orders?" he asks, his tone offhand, casual, as though it were a matter of curiosity rather than a potential answer to his and Annie's problem.

Bela may have been at the back of the room but she overheard what Ravi said, laughing quietly to herself. Coffee seemed to be a precious commodity in this village so she didn't blame him for wanting to have some of it as well. Especially when Bela was a fan herself.

Now Ravi didn't know her from Adam, but she has decided to make an effort and branch out her social circle. This meeting was the perfect setting for that.

"I couldn't help overhearing your suggestion on what to do with the coffee." Bela said, coming up to him. "It was fairly amusing."

"Only fairly?" he echoes, mock-hurt by that only a little (because there's a part of him that's genuinely wondering if he's losing his touch because he's supposed to be damn clever and only fairly means that he needs to start getting punnier). "You could hurt a man's feelings with that qualification."

Now, he's back to joking. "I mean it, though," he admits, a bit more serious. "I've been here over a year now and I think it's actually broken my caffeine addiction, which is a terrible thing to lose."

Threaded | Top-Level Comments Only

Page 1 of 4

[OTA - MINGLE] Town Hall meeting

no subject

OTA +Mark

OTA; halfway through meeting

no subject

no subject

OTA

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

Moana OTA [with some info]

OTA [watching all you]

no subject

OTA

no subject

OTA

no subject

no subject

Let's do this

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject