Clint Barton (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
upinhisnest) wrote in ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png)
sixthiterationlogs2016-09-11 07:09 pm
upinhisnest) wrote in sixthiterationlogs2016-09-11 07:09 pm
Aw, fountain, no...
WHO: Clint Barton
WHERE: The (Empty) Fountain
WHEN: September 11th
OPEN TO: Everyone
WARNINGS: Loser Archers Within
STATUS: Open
The thing about being on the Raft is that every day Clint wakes up disoriented for a split second, confused as to why he's not in his bed next to his wife. The sensation is enough to almost make this situation familiar. He goes from wondering where Laura is to wondering why he can't hear Sam, Scott, or Wanda - usually at least one of them is up, moving around enough that he can tell they're alive even if they're not talking. Sometimes they talk - it seems to annoy Ross when he's there and Clint's more than happy to annoy that son of a bitch.
But then it sinks in that he's not in a prison cell. His scrubs are white, not blue, there's no security circuitry on them, he's wearing boots and has a backpack, and is in some deep empty well or cistern of some sort. Yes, unlike most everyone else who's arrived here, Clint does not arrive sopping wet and sputtering from the fountain. It's a nice treat, not that he's aware of his luck, as going from one prison to another is bad enough without having every single item of clothing you own coming out soaked in the process.
But that doesn't change the fact that he's in a strange place, in strange clothes, in a pit he can't get out of on his own. He doesn't even bother to try - he knows his physical skills and they're not bad, but even he can't jump straight up to a ledge 15 feet over his head. "Well this is just great," he mutters to himself, then decides to take stock of what he's got.
He checks his clothes, is glad to see that even though they're white (who wears white scrubs?), the scrubs seem sturdy. A dig through the pack reveals no information to where he is, no means of communication, and no weapons. Disappointing but not particularly surprising. The only explanation he can think of is that Ross has decided to start experimenting with them, and that's what's going on here. Maybe they're free, maybe Thor showed up and had some Asgardian magic transport them somewhere safe, but it doesn't seem very likely to him.
He takes 5 minutes or so to orient himself with his belongings and check to see if he can tell if he's had any sort of injection or something, maybe a subcutaneous tracker, and after that he sets about getting out of the pit. And there's only one way he can do that.
"HELLO?" he shouts up at the top of his lungs. "Anyone up there? Could use a little help!"
WHERE: The (Empty) Fountain
WHEN: September 11th
OPEN TO: Everyone
WARNINGS: Loser Archers Within
STATUS: Open
The thing about being on the Raft is that every day Clint wakes up disoriented for a split second, confused as to why he's not in his bed next to his wife. The sensation is enough to almost make this situation familiar. He goes from wondering where Laura is to wondering why he can't hear Sam, Scott, or Wanda - usually at least one of them is up, moving around enough that he can tell they're alive even if they're not talking. Sometimes they talk - it seems to annoy Ross when he's there and Clint's more than happy to annoy that son of a bitch.
But then it sinks in that he's not in a prison cell. His scrubs are white, not blue, there's no security circuitry on them, he's wearing boots and has a backpack, and is in some deep empty well or cistern of some sort. Yes, unlike most everyone else who's arrived here, Clint does not arrive sopping wet and sputtering from the fountain. It's a nice treat, not that he's aware of his luck, as going from one prison to another is bad enough without having every single item of clothing you own coming out soaked in the process.
But that doesn't change the fact that he's in a strange place, in strange clothes, in a pit he can't get out of on his own. He doesn't even bother to try - he knows his physical skills and they're not bad, but even he can't jump straight up to a ledge 15 feet over his head. "Well this is just great," he mutters to himself, then decides to take stock of what he's got.
He checks his clothes, is glad to see that even though they're white (who wears white scrubs?), the scrubs seem sturdy. A dig through the pack reveals no information to where he is, no means of communication, and no weapons. Disappointing but not particularly surprising. The only explanation he can think of is that Ross has decided to start experimenting with them, and that's what's going on here. Maybe they're free, maybe Thor showed up and had some Asgardian magic transport them somewhere safe, but it doesn't seem very likely to him.
He takes 5 minutes or so to orient himself with his belongings and check to see if he can tell if he's had any sort of injection or something, maybe a subcutaneous tracker, and after that he sets about getting out of the pit. And there's only one way he can do that.
"HELLO?" he shouts up at the top of his lungs. "Anyone up there? Could use a little help!"
no subject
Margaery offered a smile in return when he looked at her. There was no judgement in her gaze. If he felt better lashing out, she'd accept it.
"Are you hurt?" She asked him. "The fountain is normally filled with water, but I'm not certain how it is for new arrivals now that it isn't."
no subject
"Woke up in the bottom, had to shout until someone came to help me out," he says. "I'm fine, just frustrated. Not your fault."
He holds his hand out, as polite as his mother ever taught him to be. "Clint Barton. I'd say it's nice to meet you, but under the circumstances..."
no subject
"It was lucky that someone passed by. I hope they helped you find a room or a house, something that you can rest and recover in."
She smiled, taking his hand. "I'm Margaery Tyrell and I will say it's nice to meet you regardless of how it came to pass."