littledhampir: ♫ Time can bring you down, time can bend your knees. (Not a lot of options.)
яσѕє нαтнαωαу ([personal profile] littledhampir) wrote in [community profile] sixthiterationlogs2018-08-15 09:08 pm

You have that look in your eye

WHO: Rose Hathaway [personal profile] littledhampir
WHERE: Various places around 6i
WHEN: 15th - 25th of August (Before the end of Sirens Call)
OPEN TO: OTA - Late tag-ins are always welcome.
WARNINGS: Minor references to blood & a pack of rabid Bambis. Character Death. Others may well come bc… Rose, so. Watch this space. FYI. So much TLDR under the cut.


If you go out in the woods today...

THE WOODS + THE INN

She’d been getting a little too comfortable with the fact that the wildlife here didn’t seem to have a problem with her. Rose’s strictly human status here in the village was generally a point of contention for the Dhampir, but if she had to have picked one thing that didn’t suck - it was her recent ability to be able to pet an animal without fear of it trying to snack on her. Until today.

In her defense...Who the hell would think to be careful around something that looked like Bambi had been left in the dryer on high for too long?! Sure they lull you into a false sense of security by sending one out to try and get your attention, and the next thing you know there’s eight of the little suckers - and she does mean that word literally - all trying to sink their teeth into you while you flail around like a fish that had escaped from its bowl. (Or. ya know. The lead singer of a popular Australian 80s band.)

While it was true that Dhampir blood was considered to taste better than that of a Human, Rose had been hoping that her change in race, courtesy of this godforsaken place, might have meant that had changed it. If the last ten minutes of her life was anything to go by, she hadn’t gotten so lucky.

You would be forgiven for laughing, however, if you happen to spot Rose as she emerges from the edge of the woods. Her appearance mildly alarming due to the bite marks that adorn her arms and legs. The long dark hair that had been pulled back into a ponytail was now a tangled mess that half framed her face. The clothing she’d raided from the discarded items of the Inn, probably more useful as dishcloths than it would ever be for training now. You may even spot one of the little creatures in question as it’s brave enough to think about having another go. And if you do, you’ll also spot Rose as she turns around and sends it back towards the treeline with a kick that sails wide.

Don’t worry if you miss it, she’ll be dragging her sorry self back to the Inn, looking like the disaster that she is, in search of something she can use to clean herself up and bracing for the numerous questions she knows she’s going to regret.

People are strange when you're a stranger

BUILDINGS AROUND 6i

If her encounter with the pack of Rabid Bambis had taught Rose anything, it was that this place was in desperate need of somewhere she could use to train. Running every day might be a part of her routine, but if she weren’t so bored out of her skull from not being able to take to the mats of a gym, maybe she wouldn’t do stupid things like, oh… say… pet the cute yet utterly terrifying spawn of satan.

It’s why she’s been out scouting the various buildings around the village, something that seemed like a wise idea until she realized that half of them were occupied and Rose had no idea which half. The ones with lights on inside made for an easy avoidance, but seeing as most of the people around here didn’t actually have electricity, there was a 50/50 chance that one of the windows she peered through belonged to an inhabited residence. Surely this was going to be fine.

And can you shake it off?

HOT SPRINGS

Even before the Wendigo attack, the Hot Springs had been a regular haunt of Rose’s, dating back to the first time she’d found herself in the village with a busted ankle and a series of conspicuous bite marks that weren’t exactly easy for her to keep covered. From the very moment she’d found out about the spring water and it’s healing potential, she’d been coming here every day. In part because of the healing but also because it seemed to be one of the few places she could visit that wasn’t overrun with people like the Inn was.

Of course, coming here these days wasn’t half as relaxing as it used to be but that was a story that even Kira didn’t have enough alcohol on hand to pry it out of her. It’s usually around dusk that she can be found this way, though, when most are making use of the last hour of natural light the village is afforded.

They say life carries on

PEETA'S GRAVE

When a Dhampir - a Guardian, died in her world, their death wasn’t something that was marked in any significant way. There was no memorial for people to come together and grieve. No procession of mourners to see them onto whatever came next. They were simply buried in a grave with a headstone that read the words ‘Eternal Service’. Dhampir, who like her, had dedicated their lives to protecting others. Dhampir, who like her, had always known that they would one day die because of it.

It was a part of her culture that had never particularly sat well with Rose. The attitude that when a person died, it was acknowledged - albeit briefly - and moved on from. Peeta was by no means a Guardian and yet, he’d gone into the fight knowing he could well die protecting others and while perhaps her only real connection to him was that she’d been there with him at the end. The thought that his death could be just like the many Guardians who had fallen before him, sat uneasily with Rose.

Those who have visited Peeta’s grave might have noticed the appearance of the forget-me-nots that somebody had been leaving there regularly. A single, lavender flower that seemed to be replaced with a new one every day. She never stays long, only long enough to retrieve the wilting flower and replace it with a new one. For Rose, it wasn’t so much about mourning as it was about remembering. About making sure, that at least as long as she was here, the boy who had sacrificed everything to help keep the people here safe, wouldn’t be just another headstone in a row of forgotten heroes.

Wildcard

Pick your poison. Rose lives at the Inn so when she’s not outdoors, she does spend an awful lot of time there.
majorlyugh: (sorrow . contemplative)

Peeta's Grave

[personal profile] majorlyugh 2018-08-15 02:11 pm (UTC)(link)
Major's been steadily catching up with everything that's happened since his last stint in the village. His memories have fully recovered, which has been both a blessing and a curse. He, Ravi, and Liv are still sorting out what to do about the living situation since Liv took his old room, and Major's not the type of guy to come in, figurative guns ablazin', demanding his old things back. He offered to sleep on the couch, or, if they agreed upon it, to move into a larger house and hope the electricity gods saw fit to bestow their gifts upon them again - allowing all three of them to live together with a reliable means of storing brains.

He's been trying to contribute to their personal and uh, "unconventional" food stores by going out and seeing what creatures might be caught in traps, trying to remember all that Wanda had taught him the last time about hunting. He still can't quite get over the moral aspect of it (ironic, given his history), but he's gotten better in terms of accuracy and aim. He's caught a couple of squirrels whose brains he'll happily harvest when he decides to take the long way around back to the shared cabin.

In doing so, he stumbles upon Rose, removing and replacing a flower at what appears to be .. a grave? He thinks to simply scurry off without being seen or heard, not wanting to interrupt whatever moment she's obviously having. But something makes him stay. He doesn't want to be a total creep, so he makes some kind of noise - a jostling, rustling sort of sound - to announce his presence and avoid startling her. Though he wouldn't be surprised if she'd somehow already figured out he was there.

"Hey," he offers quietly, solemnly as he approaches by a few steps. He looks to the grave once close enough. He's been fortunate enough to not have had to bury anyone while here, but it's not as though he's a stranger to death. "I never knew him well enough. I wish I had, though." He places the squirrels far enough away from the grave so as not to make things weird and walks closer to the grave. "I heard about what happened. I'm .. I'm sorry, Rose."
majorlyugh: (sorrow . watching)

LOL it's okay /pets

[personal profile] majorlyugh 2018-08-16 12:54 am (UTC)(link)
"You don't have to be friends with someone to be saddened by their passing, to feel their loss." Major can remember at least one person in both high school and college who died by either sudden or tragic circumstances. One person he'd only seen a couple lockers down from his own, and in homeroom in the mornings. They never really shared more than a smile and the occasional hello, but during their Senior year, he found out that he'd OD'ed on heroin. Even though he didn't know the kid as well as a lot of others, the loss still hit him.

He's not comparing that to what Rose is experiencing, but he knows that sometimes sadness strikes without warning, and people often try to justify it or stupefy it.

Very much in the way Rose seems to be doing now.

"You don't need to come up with excuses," he continues, voice soft and soothing. "Not with me." He takes another step forward, eyes drifting from her face to the grave. "I'm glad you do something to remember him by. I think it's the least anyone could hope for - here or back where we come from."
majorlyugh: (sorrow . how could you)

[personal profile] majorlyugh 2018-08-16 03:32 am (UTC)(link)
Major's not rushing anyone, least of all Rose. Whatever she might have or want to say, she can - but he isn't going to put expectations on her like that. He won't force her to talk, or explain, or do anything for his sake. If she so much gives him a look to indicate she'd rather be alone, he'll be out of her hair without a word and without a bad feeling towards her. People deal with grief in different ways, and no one way is more correct than the other. He's never been that much of a judgmental person, but he always remembers his more recent past and how that puts him at the very bottom of the "Can Be Judgey" list.

Her voice draws his gaze towards her face, though - just for a brief moment, to acknowledge her. It drifts down towards the crushed up flower in her palm, the tiny purple petals now darkened and withered. He only knows obvious flowers like tulips and roses, so he's got no idea what the plant is that she's got in her hand, but he figures there's some kind of significance. She'd have chosen it for a reason, whatever it might be.

He continues to listen to her, allowing her to say as much or as little as she pleases. He understands more, now, with her explanation.

"Sometimes, shock and grief sort of make a cocoon around us, to protect us from too many emotions at once. The brain will always try to protect itself. Sometimes, we go into that shock and feel absolutely nothing because there's no other way we can get through whatever's going on. We compartmentalize, dissociate. And then we often feel a sudden outburst of emotion later on down the line, sometimes unexpectedly." He clasps his hands in front of him as he stands, now looking at the grave again. "I used to work at a homeless shelter for youths. Most were young teenagers. I saw that sort of thing a lot there." He shifts a little bit closer to her, gently tapping her with his elbow. "I was told once that feelings aren't right or wrong; they exist outside of the realm of morality. They just are. So if you aren't feeling as sad as you think you should be, it doesn't mean that what you're feeling is wrong. It's ... just what you feel." He turns towards her now, not reaching out for her (though he's the sort of person who's generally inclined to do that), but unclasping his hands to show they're there should she want to hold them. "You coming here, putting flowers on his grave even when no one else knows about it, because you want him to be remembered, because you want to not forget, regardless of how sad you feel or how ... not-sad you feel .. that speaks more than feeling sad for the sake of feeling sad. Feelings are simply feelings, but we've got control over what we do with them, how they affect our behaviors."

He reaches up, places a gentle hand on her shoulder for a brief moment before letting his hand fall again.

"It seems to me like you're feeling plenty, but being constructive with it."

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3ofswords: (animagus 1)

Peeta's Grave

[personal profile] 3ofswords 2018-08-15 06:41 pm (UTC)(link)
It's been a weird week; certain questions given suggestions of answers, new questions posed. He'd spent the first day wondering if he'd been swapped out of one body and into another, flown over the village worried he'd see himself passed out on the ground, or worse--bird-brained and eating ants.

But he's been in and out of the sky enough times now to realize it's something he's doing, that he can choose to be man or bird, apropos fucking nothing. Some kind of twinge in his wrist, if he recalls. Bitten by a rogue magpie and now turning in the light of the...not full moon? In the middle of the day?

Whatever: point is, he can fucking fly. If this place is going to be an absurd nightmare day in and out, at least let him live that dream. It also just makes getting around easier, and, not knowing how long it'll last--he's staying somewhat close to the ground, somewhat close to home, and also using it as much as possible. Rose, on her morbid errand, will find a magpie sitting on Peeta's grave, setting down a cluster of goldbells like it knows exactly what it's doing.

With half a hop, Kira exchanges the fresh flowers for the withered blossom she came to replace, not surprised to find she's the one doing so. Still getting the hang of taking off, he kicks back off the piled stones, dislodging a few smaller pieces as he pulls himself into the air to wind up on her shoulder.

Magpies can mimic a wide range of sounds, but it's debatable that he manages to croak Rose into her ear before kicking off again, gliding a short distance to a branch and looking back, waiting.
3ofswords: (animagus 3)

[personal profile] 3ofswords 2018-08-20 01:59 am (UTC)(link)

It had taken months to get Hoshi to repeat certain words, given very little else to entertain himself with. Kira at least has the avantage of his mind, but translating it into speech is still a process. Easier with words he's heard, easier if he repeats it a few times in his head, and tries to push it through his beak.

"Crazy," he mimics, hopping sideways on a branch.

Fuck, but it's weird to be this small. Less by the day, but still.

"Going," he adds, head tilted, pegging her with beady black eyes. "Going."

Gliding from branch to a cluster of tall weeds, Kira bends them under his weight, flapping several times to make up for his poor judgment. Rose might be crazy, or this bird might just be very bad at being what it is. Looking back, he calls it again, waiting for her to follow.

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underpinnings: (that's rough buddy)

House 40

[personal profile] underpinnings 2018-08-15 07:16 pm (UTC)(link)
When he catches who it is knocking on his door, he's less surprised that none of the wires around the yard had signaled her approach. Good thing he's home, to call an answer and lift the wire from the door. His is not a door anyone wants to pull open.

Maybe, this many months in, it's time to take down the traps.

"Can I do something for you," he asks, handle in one hand, end of a looped wire in the other. The gleaming metal of the line leads back to a jar, now partially tipped, dropping black dust and nails to the floor.

Very...very probably time to repurpose the set. Owen still squares his stance and stands there like she's come to a perfectly normal house with what he will act like is a perfectly normal request--no matter what it is, at this point.
underpinnings: (paused with cigarette)

[personal profile] underpinnings 2018-08-20 01:56 am (UTC)(link)
Rolling his lips in, he lifts his chin incrementally, not quite a nod. He wouldn't call it paranoia, when a literal beast of shadow and strange flesh walked into the village, but that's not what he's been accused of. "I come from a scary place," he admits. "And the doors don't lock."

Not that he has much to protect, here, but it's easier to let himself have a full shower, sleep in a bed, if someone else is going to get the bad end of their own intrusion.

"Come in, I guess?" A pinch at the corners of his eyes adds credence to the idea that he's never quite said the words before. He walks in from the door, reeling the wire around his bad hand. "You want some water?"

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spoileralert: (Concerned)

The Woods

[personal profile] spoileralert 2018-08-16 12:55 am (UTC)(link)
Steph is exercising (read: doing cartwheels) at the edge of the forest, armed of course, when the woman comes crashing out of it several yards to her right. She's about to pull the staff from the back of her overalls when Rose takes care of the chupapaca herself. Which is a relief, because the less people know about Steph's combat skills the more comfortable she is.

She does come after the obviously injured woman, though, abandoning her workout.

"Hey, you need a hand cleaning up? That's uh... a lot." She waves a hand to indicate basically all of Rose's limbs.
spoileralert: (Who me?)

[personal profile] spoileralert 2018-08-19 06:01 am (UTC)(link)
She waits. Rose is clearly out of sorts, and Steph's been there way too recently.

"Yeah, I saw one of them. It had that furby vibe, but with more blood around the mouth. No foam, though, so it probably wasn't rabid."

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copingskills: (deathbites9)

hot springs;

[personal profile] copingskills 2018-08-17 03:15 am (UTC)(link)
[Elena knew Rose's usual haunts, so when writing wasn't enough to get her out of her own head and the other brunette wasn't in her room, she headed down to the springs to look for her. It helped that Elena liked it here as much as her friend did; it was quiet in a more peaceful way than an empty room could be.

She walks to the edge, divulges herself of her shoes, and sits down, letting her legs slip into the water to just below the knee.]


Hey you.
copingskills: (arabian1)

[personal profile] copingskills 2018-08-23 02:31 am (UTC)(link)
[The heat of the spring quickly warms her as she sits at the edge, and soon she's pulling her shirt off over her head and tossing it to the side in a new slowly growing pile of clothes.]

You could always move closer.

[Her kick gently beneath the water before she finally stops resisting the urge to slide into the small pool, though she quickly pulls her bottoms off before she does so.

They nearly match, with their dark olive skin and deep brown, long hair. Even their body types were similar, though her friend was physically stronger than she could ever be.]


I've been thinking about getting out of the inn.

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theimmortalweapon: by <lj comm=namiami> (Meditation)

BUILDINGS AROUND 6i

[personal profile] theimmortalweapon 2018-08-18 10:29 pm (UTC)(link)
Danny had similarly been looking through the buildings of the village; both to find a place to live and to train. He'd been hoping to find a building with a second floor so he could turn the first floor into a Dojo but he'd take whatever he could get.

It was difficult to find a place that wasn't occupied but not impossible. He sat in one such house, the couch had been pushed against the fireplace so that Danny could sit in the center of the living space. His eyes were closed, his wrists resting gently on his knees as he meditated. He could hear the clatter of the buildings next to him and the distant call of the forest.

It wasn't a great choice but it wasn't a bad one either.

He heard Rose at the door before she got close enough to knock and called out to her. "Come in." Yet. He was still getting a feel for the space, testing if it was good enough to become a Dojo. He wanted to get tatami mats but he didn't think that was possible. If he found the right material he might try a hand at making them but he had no idea how to do that.
theimmortalweapon: by <lj comm=namiami> (Not alone)

[personal profile] theimmortalweapon 2018-08-25 12:32 am (UTC)(link)
A smile touched the corner Danny's mouth as he opened his eyes. He was wearing the rich forest green warrior monk robes he'd gotten at the party. The fabric wrapped around his chest, showing off the top part of the dragon insignia, while then forming pants from the waist down.

"I am a monk." Which was his only retort to her reply to her remark.

He liked this house so far but he was curious what Rose thought. "I was thinking of setting up a Dojo here. Finding ways to make training equipment and training those interested in fighting." Fighting was a way of life for Danny. No matter what was happening he felt the world around him sharpen into clarity when he was fighting.

It was the only think that made everything come into focus.

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