sixthiterationlogs | [MINGLE] Color Coordination: The Announcement

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[MINGLE] Color Coordination: The Announcement

WHERE: 6I Inn
WHEN: Morning, 18 April
OPEN TO: ALL - This is a mingle post
NOTES: Details may be found here

In the often-bustling front room of the inn there sits a large, old-style chalboard on a wooden stand. Chalk is a precious commodity, but limestone can be found easily, and both sides of the board are often covered with notes and notices from villagers.

This morning, the board has been wiped clean and a much different message has appeared on its worn gray surface:

Jude Sullivan and Francis Mulcahy have been exposed to toxic spores and will slowly drown if a counter-agent is not procured.

A yellow lichen is needed. It only grows on a small stand of trees in marshland two days to the southeast. There is no other antidote.

The following people have coordinates for the lichen loaded into their wrist devices. Only they may retrieve it, and only if they work together. If anyone else attempts this, the expedition will fail.

Peggy Carter
Beverly Crusher
Jean-Luc Picard
Owen Prichard
Margaery Tyrell
Mark Watney

Hurry. Soon it will be too late.

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"But what if they need her and it fails without her?" Jon argued. He didn't want Margaery to go either, of course, but he had been in the village long enough to know sometimes instructions were meant to be heeded even if they seemed implausible.

"There's nothing to say we can't go with her," he said. "I could go with them and make sure she's safe."

Jon's primary concern upon seeing the board in the Inn was Margaery. It was selfish, yes, but Margaery was a part of his family for all intents and purposes and seeing that she was one of those chosen to go out and find the cure worried him. While she was a woman capable of many things, he did not know that she would be the best choice to go over rough country and encounter dangers and hazards that none of them had seen before.

Jon used to think himself familiar with this village and the land that surrounded it, familiar enough to feel at home in the woods or along the river. Now, though, everything he knew about this place had changed irrevocably and he had no idea how or why - only that it had. It had taken him several hours to try and seek a border to the lands they now had (both his dogs in tow, even) and he'd still seen more land on the horizon yet untouched. How large was this new place? A continent the size of Westeros? Essos? The two combined?

If he felt uneasy about traversing it himself, he felt twice as uneasy about letting Margaery go. He didn't want harm to come to his brother's lady and, besides, she was his friend. Jon turned to someone next to him, voicing his concern aloud.

"How were they chosen? Some of those people aren't used to long distances over rough country. How can we ensure they'll be safe while searching for this plant?"

Obligation to a community is something that pulls at Oliver whether he wants it to or not and in spite of all his efforts to keep himself separate and apart from everyone else, to not trust anyone else, he's drawn to community and to taking care of a group of people. He's not the mayor of the village (They have no government, which works for their current size. Any larger, though, and some kind of law and order might become necessary) but he does feel an obligation to work toward bettering it, toward keeping people safe and toward being someone that they can rely on.

When he sees the list of names, those chosen to go on the expedition for lack of a better term, his first reaction is the sting of disappointment. Their captors chose these people, specifically, and didn't think him capable? Perhaps it's just ego but he'd rather go and do something himself and keep everyone else out of harm's way than sit back and hope that nothing bad happens to others while it's out of his control.

Control is something that always makes him feel better. His life has had a disturbing lack of control lately.

"What happens if other people go? I'd volunteer to go with them, to be an extra hand. I don't want to mess anything up by replacing someone but I have no problems with being someone additional. I've got decent experience with rough terrain and survival."

Sometimes survival is all he does, whether it's in a place like this or it's back in Star City.

The more things change, the more they stay the same. The whole world has turned upside down on them in the last few weeks but the village fucking with them hasn't changed at all. The sign in the Inn is further proof of that and Raleigh's brows draw together in worry when he sees Peggy on the list of names. She's a good friend and while he knows she's more than capable of doing any and everything put before her, he doesn't want to see one of his friends at risk.

Then he scans down further on the list and sees Margaery Tyrell. Margaery is like Sansa, a proper lady, and he has to wonder what the hell their captors are thinking sending her out through the woods and the brush to go get some antidote plant. From what he's heard from Sansa, she's been having illness the last few months too; is she even healthy enough to go? While Raleigh doesn't want to see the priest or Jude suffer, he has to wonder if it's not going to affect Margaery adversely too.

"How did they even choose these people? The botanist makes sense and Peggy makes sense but Margaery? Margaery's better off supporting everyone from here, isn't she? What kind of choice is it to put her in harm's way in order to save someone else?"

Never mind that Raleigh would put himself in harm's way every day of the week to keep someone else safe. That's not the point. The point is that he'd choose to do it and he's concerned that the people on this list aren't even getting the choice.

I don't personally think it's so obvious as that, but maybe Oliver is less well acquainted with the Westerosi set and their somewhat antiquated ways of thinking. The heart of the statement is true enough, though: We might all gather here and argue over whether someone like Margaery needs to really go on such a quest, but the clock is ticking, and nobody here wants to see anybody dead. Especially not when they might have prevented it by just playing along.

"That's a good question," I allow, and heave out a sigh. "And I'd honestly love nothing more than to test the theory, but under these particular circumstances, it's more of a risk than we probably should take. It says 'if anyone else attempts this,' and we're kind of over a barrel here. At least this time." Because I don't think either of us, or anyone else in the room, for that matter, are fooling ourselves into believing this is a one-off thing.

"And I don't want to be the one with the liability of someone's life in my hands. I've had that before and it's agonizing to have that choice. I don't want to make it when the rules seem clear - at least so far as what is written on that board goes."

Still, it's something he'd like to experiment with if the stakes were a little less high. If it was something where it was a reward, maybe, and not life or death. That's something Oliver's willing to gamble on but not when it comes to Jude or the priest's life.

"Have you made any kind of field guide of the plants here, do you have a ballpark idea of which plant this is? All I know about you from reputation is that you're a plant guy so if I'm assuming too much, feel free to let me know."

Owen snorts, though he doesn't mean to be unkind. "You never have to feel helpless. You just have to figure out what you can do with the situation you're dealt." Helplessness is transient, a momentary affliction that can be cured with action.

"Like I said, you should find the source and burn it out. The medical people can do their best with the sick." Much as Owen itches to put them in the prison and segregate them from the rest. The people here are too soft for that.

"And don't be sorry, it's not as if any of us knew." More than anything, he's bemused by the remark, but he shakes her hand all the same. "Owen. Don't worry about us, just take care of what you can here, make sure no one else is counting on us to get back."

She frowned at the snort and implication, well aware that he didn't mean to offend, but instinctively feeling a surge of annoyance. "How else are you going to feel when someone you care about is being sent on a mission that could mean their death? You can't prevent it, you can't stop it. You have to wait. Sometimes there's no action you can take."

She crossed her arms over her chest, trying not to be rattled by this or by any of what was happening. "How are we going to find what the source is? Can we eve see these spores?"

It was an odd thing to say. "No one else is counting on you? What do you mean?"

"I haven't seen anything yet that would do this, but that doesn't mean they're not local," I say. "Cataloguing as much of the new plant life is on my to-do list, but so are a lot of other things." Like finishing yet another census and making sure people like Nerys and Major have what they need to survive here as non-humans.

"I'd offer to start looking, but it sounds like I'm going to be out of town," I add with a faint smirk Oliver's way. "You think you're up to trying to find it?" He looks about ready for anything, but what do I know? "Ravi and Helen, we all used to room together and we've got a lab we share. If you can safely get a sample of the spores to them, they might be able to figure out some kind of stopgap, something to give Jude and Father Mulcahy a little more time while we're off trying to find the cure."

Robb was slowly nodding his agreement, a frown still deeply etched on his face, when he glanced to the pale hand gripping against his arm. And the device wrapped snuggly around its wrist.

"The bracelets," he ejected, taking hold of Lyanna's hand and then lifting it, tapping on the glass facing of the device. "They let us communicate with one another, don't they?" He hadn't tried it himself, but he'd gone as far as scrolling through the display on his own and reading a few astonished missives from others.

"Do you think they might send us messages while they're gone? Like a raven?"

What other choice was there? None that his conscience would ever allow. Drawing a long breath, Robb straightened and took a firm hold of Margaery's hand. "Come with me," he said, and pulled her gently from the room, out the front door of the inn and toward the house he now shared with only his father.

"You need to be prepared. I'm going to give you one of my knives, and I'm going to show you how to use it," he said, face gravely set as he looked to her. "It won't be much of a lesson, but you're smart enough to remember it if the moment comes you need to."

"But there is," Robb replied, and motioned toward the message. "If anyone else attempts this, the expedition will fail. How are we to know if that only applies to replacing those listed, or anyone else at all? Unless a lightning bolt brings the answer from these petty gods, we've no way of knowing." And that meant, of course, that Margaery had to go.

Robb squeezed his eyes closed, pulling in a breath through his nose. "If anything happens to her out there, Jon, I swear..." What? What could he swear? What retaliation could he possibly bring against those who had placed them all here?

"There's always action you can take," he reasserts with a shrug; better that than don't care about people. He'll go for the sake of a cure to an overall threat, and for the sense that he won't have much choice--and he'll do his best to keep everyone alive and accounted for, but there isn't a name among the villagers that would inspire him to worry. Better that way, in a place full of unknown dangers, edicts from invisible hands and eyes. "If nothing else, to distract from the feeling."

From every feeling, really.

Both brows lift briefly, as he parses the question. "No one else getting sick, is what I mean. We have to assume this won't be easy; it might not even really be a cure. Ask the victims where they've been. If they can speak, as what they've seen, and deal with it."

He gives her another look, just a flick of eyes taking stock. "You should worry about yourself, not the people chosen. Watching your own back is the best you can do for anyone."

She looked at her wrist in confusion, having never bothered to play with the bracelet before. But his thought is a good one and already she feels a measure of hope seize in her heart. "They could?" Others seemed to communicate on the bracelet and it would be easier for them to send word to the village. "If we ask them, they could tell us how the journey is?"

They wouldn't be able to rush to their side if there was danger, but they could know what was happening. It would ease their minds, if only a little bit. "Does...she know how to use this?" She won't say Margaery's name, but she knows who Robb is more worried about.

"You might have to teach her."

"We'll avenge it," Jon said, reaching out to clasp Robb's shoulder. "But let's not have so little faith in Margaery that she might fail. She is going with others and she has been here in the village for a while. She isn't the same as she was in Westeros, I imagine."

Jon hadn't known her there but he knew how ladies were raised, considering Sansa, and Margaery had to have had a similar upbringing.

She wasn't about to object. While she had a small idea of how to protect herself, a few tips picked up over the years, it wasn't enough for her to feel safe in the woods. "I have a blade." It had been picked out of the items left behind by the other villagers. The machete was a bit unwieldy though, Robb's knife would at least be simpler and easier to learn from.

"You will have to look after my animals and Loras." She murmured, though she knew he would do that without her prompting. For as brave as she was trying to be, there was still a moment where she wanted to pause and ask him to reassure her that she would be safe. "I have the best teacher," she said instead. "I will learn quickly."

"I'll do that," Oliver says. It's not his normal kind of mission, no, but it's something he will do to help out the village as best he can. Mark's an all right sort anyway and he knows more about this stuff than Oliver ever will.

"I'll get a sample of it to them for testing and do what I can around here to help out. Hopefully you'll be able to find this lichen and get it back here quickly for them."

"Everything here will be all right," Robb promised her, his hand squeezing against Margaery's as he led her down the path. "There are plenty enough people here even beside me who will make sure everything is well sorted. Now you need to focus on yourself, and making sure that you return able to take care of your animals and all of that again."

There was nothing about this he liked. Even as they continued on their way to the house, moving forward with what was necessarily the best and only plan, everything within him wanted to rebel at the very notion of what they were doing. But their hands were tied.

"It seems we have very little time, but I want you to at least know how to properly hold a knife and where to use it," he said as they made their way up the porch and into the cool shadows of the house.

"We'll have to find someone to teach us both, because I've little enough idea of how to operate the thing," Robb replied. "Surely one of these people who are used to this sort of device might help with that. There are enough of them that seem to understand how they work."

Several of the people in the designated group seemed as if they might have that sort of knowledge — Perhaps not Peggy, but he knew Jean-Luc and Mark and they both had come from places with ships that flew in the sky. Surely this little bracelet was something they could figure out.

"It isn't something I've even thought about much unless it itches," Robb admitted. "I reckon it might not be such a burden after all."

"Far from it, I would say," Robb allowed, thinking of Margaery mucking about with her cow and sheep, sewing her own clothing and stoking her own fires. There was no doubt she'd become plenty self-sufficient, but that didn't make the idea of having her tromp off through the wilderness much more palatable.

"There are worse people she could be going with," he assented, if only because it was becoming rapidly clear to him that his personal opinion on all of this was good for absolutely nothing.

"This is true. Many of them are capable and I cannot imagine they'd want to see her hurt. The one thing about this place is that it is not Westeros. We help one another here. It isn't everyone for themselves the way I'm used to having to live."

Jon didn't like having to put his confidence in others to keep Margaery safe but in this, he had to, and he had to rely upon the others going out to keep her from harm. It worried him immensely but he tried to hide it as best he could from Robb.

"They will care for her out there."

"I have seen people push at things. I think you spell out your message and then there is something you hit that sends it, almost like letting loose a raven." That's as much as she's been able to gather through watching, but explaining and putting into practice were two different things. "I think some of the others have something similar in their worlds."

It would be worth learning for herself, if something ever happened to her in the woods. There was always a chance that she could be injured while hunting or could become lost. At least knowing how to work this would mean that she could find help.

"No, it might help even beyond this. It would make search parties easier or hunting in tandem."

It seemed silly to worry about, given what she was facing, but it was easier to think of the things she was leaving behind than what she might encounter. Her chores, her work, it was order in the face of the unknown. Better to hide behind that than let her panic take hold again. "I will need to pack some food and a blanket. It will be colder at night." And she was never one for the cold.

He was keeping his cool at least. The more faith he displayed, the better she felt about the entire thing. It wasn't a trip that she was looking forward to or would enjoy, but it was easier to hold to the idea that she would return, so long as he held it as well.

"I know where to stick a blade, Robb." She managed a smile and a nervous laugh, squeezing his hand in reply. She rubbed her arms as they made their way to the house, suddenly feeling the cold as the sun disappeared from her view. "Why do you think they chose me?"

"I hadn't thought it would be something I would much concern myself with, but you are right," Robb allowed with a slight nod, looking again to the device strapped to his wrist. Was it a blessing or a curse? It was so hard to tell in this place.

"Perhaps someone who understands them better might instruct those of us who don't," he added, thinking again of the folk who seemed entirely at ease with this new method of communication. "I doubt there is time for it now, but when this is over. When the group has returned."

Because there was no other outcome to be considered.

"Do you?" Robb asked, not chastising precisely, but unconvinced. "I don't know why they've chosen you for this mission, Margaery. You're tenacious and intelligent enough to match anyone here. Whatever the reason, I aim to make certain that if you find yourself cornered and there's no tree to climb, you know to strike here," he said, lifting her hand and jabbing it toward his throat, "and not here." He shifted her hand to his chest.

"The breast bone is here, do you feel it? Very difficult to get through. Most knives will glance off. And an animal can last a long time with a gut wound." He motioned to his abdomen. "But if you cut its throat, it will be a messy business but you will live to tell the tale."

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[MINGLE] Color Coordination: The Announcement

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Jon Snow | OTA

oliver queen | OTA

Raleigh Becket | OTA

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