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.

Threaded | Flat

The last few days had been difficult to digest, between the new device, new world and strange happenings. Much to her chagrin, because of her disorientation, Margaery had been waking later and falling behind in her usual chores. What strength she had hoped to provide to others was slow to appear, making it impossible to summon similar courage for herself as well. It was almost like walking through a dream. It hadn't been that way when she first arrived in the village over a year ago. Why was this time different.

The inn at least still offered solace and distraction. Much like before, she went over every afternoon to help with lunch and to have something to eat among the others. The chalkboard often had something amusing written on it, someone able to find the means to lift others' spirits and make them laugh. She glanced towards the board, hoping to see a drawing but finding something else instead.

Her name. Her name written by the Observers.

For a time, she stood reading the message, absorbing what it said and trying to make sense of the words written. It was a jumble, mixed within her shock. There were others beginning to gather as well, some who were named and told to go, others that were spared from this trek.

"Why did they choose us?" She asked to no one in particular. There were a few names that registered for her. Mark and Beverly were skilled with plants and she had familiarity as well. Was that why they were among those picked? It would at least offer an explanation to this sudden turn. "Why only us though? Why can't anyone else go?"

Edited 2018-04-18 04:42 (UTC)

Owen only goes to the inn with a purpose; not one to check in, not one to rely on group meals. To be self-sufficient is the only freedom he knows. But if the others are drawing in toward it, the source of their curiosity must be observed--any meeting of people should concern strangers, should they be a source of discussion.

He's not sure how this ranks.

Despite the tool, the handwriting is similar enough to the tags on recent packages. His full name, thankfully only one of many. In waiting to be singled out, he hadn't imagined being part of a group, or even chose for a purpose.

He recognizes a couple of names at this point; slots the protesting woman at the fore into Margaery or Beverly by elimination. Then to Margaery as a red-headed woman clicks into a memory of the clinic. It left only Jean-Luc to his imagination, and he let himself remain in theirs--unannounced, uncomplaining, when he asked instead: "Has anyone located the spores? Those staying should find a way to contain or destroy the source, or we might all be in trouble."

Surreal as it had been to wander carpet-bombed cities between the zones and wilderness, it had been the right idea. Raze the earth, burn the fungus away. This group can't afford to lose sixty percent of its people and burn away a forest of resources to save the rest.

Erik hadn't given much thought to the purpose of the new device on his wrist, or made any effort to figure out how to use it. It was put there by whoever's behind this, after all, and he's not giving them any more information about him than they already have.

And now it seems that not only has a reason for the wrist devices been revealed, but there's a message directly from the people behind this. Or at least one delivered more plainly than any in the past. He's relieved, really, not to see his name on the board. Not because he doesn't want to help, but because he doesn't want to be forced to help.

He doesn't want to be toyed with.

He doesn't like having to play by the rules, and he likes the rules of this place even less. But he figured out a long time ago that trying to fight against those rules does nothing but waste time and energy. All he can do is bear it and bide his time.

And now there's an explanation for the priest's mysterious, worsening illness. If that had happened to him, he'd be angrier than usual at the ones causing this.

"'Soon,'" he repeats. "That's not ominous. Or, come to that, very helpful."

That first day, fresh out of the fountain and getting a haircut in the middle of Kira's kitchen, my instinctive impression was that we'd leveled up. If we were in some kind of game, we'd finally reached the magic number of points or stars or otherwise proven our mettle enough that we got to take off the training wheels. This place doesn't feel any more or less real than where we came from — I don't have any kind of spider-sense about it — but things make relative logical sense, and the world is a heckuva lot bigger.

Standing in the middle of the front room at the inn, I realize now I had no idea how close to the truth I'd gotten.

There's been contact from the people who put us here, but it's always been so much more vague than this. This is explicit in a way that scares me more than anything in a long time.

And that's without my name being on the list.

Which doesn't make much sense as a whole. The inclusion of Margaery specifically seems to stand out, and I have to wonder the purpose of her being there. Is it because she has a specific skill I don't personally know about that might be useful? She does keep a lot of livestock; maybe that's what it is. Or is the reasoning more manipulative, more coy? Is this a measure of our obedience cloaked in concern?

I don't even know where to begin, and if what's written is correct, we have no time to parse any of it out.

"Does anybody know if this is true? Has anybody seen Jude or the Father lately? Can someone go check on them?"

The room was full of people, many of them murmurring in alarm, most of them likely there by the same means that drew Robb. The village tended to be quiet a good deal of the time, but when something worrisome happened, or something strange, word traveled like wildfire. Standing before the board, he was silent, breathing steadily as he seemed to study the message written so impossibly neatly upon its dark face. His hands, however, were clutching into a fist and then releasing, clutching and releasing, and if he'd stopped, you might have seen the shaking of his fingers.

Margaery was on the list. It was absurd, but Margaery was on the list. And while he hadn't known it at the time, he'd seen the effects of the spores firsthand.

"It's true," he abruptly said at last. "I don't know about Mulcahy, but I've seen Jude. He's terribly ill. Last I saw, he was having a good deal of difficulty breathing, and spitting up terrible stuff. He said it had just come over him."

That was days ago now, and if the rest of the message was true, they had precious little time left. And yet, he could not allow Margaery to take part in something so dangerous. It was unthinkable.

For all that Jean-Luc has grown more or less accustomed to the presence of the chalkboard, the dire warning that turns up out the blue is... different. Whether it's good or bad that the Observers are communicating more directly is something to be seen, but apart from that it's not the first mission of this sort he's been on. It's just that usually he's the one picking the people who will go on the away mission, as opposed to being one of the people assigned to it.

But that's a small enough difference, he figures. And given the direness of the warning, he isn't even so much as considering not going. There is however, just one question he has, asked to anyone who might be in range to hear and have any idea as to the answer.

"...Drown?"

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.

Threaded | Flat

Margaery Tyrell | OTA

Owen Prichard | OTA

Erik Lehnsherr | ota

Mark Watney | OTA

Robb Stark | OTA

Jean-Luc Picard | OTA

Jon Snow | OTA

oliver queen | OTA

Raleigh Becket | OTA