sixthiterationlogs | i'm searching for something that i can't reach

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i'm searching for something that i can't reach

WHO: Ygritte
WHERE: Fountain, elsewhere around the village
WHEN: September 26th - 29th
OPEN TO: All
WARNINGS: Possible talk of death, paranoia, confusion.
STATUS: Open

Waking up in the fountain had been an experience, to say the least. Ygritte had been in one place, with an arrow in her chest, drawing her last breath in the arms of the man she realized she did indeed love, despite his betrayal and everything that happened. But then she was underwater, still trying to take that breath before her subconscious told her what to do.

Push up.

At the moment her head broke the surface of the water, the wildling woman gasped loudly while her arms instinctively move to keep her from going under again. Ygritte was by no means an excellent swimmer, but she knew what to do. Before long she was pulling herself out and onto the pavement, completely confused with words echoing in her mind. His words. His voice.

"We'll go back there."

Ygritte's mind clouded before retreating in a whirlwind of confusion. She took a moment longer, blinking slowly before getting to her feet. Things from before clashed with things that were happening here and it was too much to understand, or comprehend.

So she started walking.

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Jon had seen her the day she'd come from the fountain, shivering and cold and he had thought she was a dream. He wanted nothing more than for it to be real, for him to finally have the one woman he loved back in his arms but he knew that relying on this place to give him what he wanted was a frightening prospect.

So the next day, when he found her again, she was just as real. Just as solid and slightly-less bedraggled and he knew. It was Ygritte,for true, and he could trust it.

He met her along the road in the village, bow slung against his back. "We should hunt. I can tell you more about this place, all right?"

For her, Ygritte had been waiting to wake up. What sort of need was there to bring her to this world beyond the possibility that she was being given a second chance? What had she done to deserve such a blessing? And why here?

No, she hardly understood what the scrubs, or the other clothes that came on her back in the bag, were for. She didn't understand waking in the fountain, nor the shelters that made up the town. It was nothing she had seen before.

When Jon met her, the fiery red head was far more subdued than he's ever seen her. She was still adjusting and likely would be still in a few days time from then. But her eyes went to bow on his back, then his face before giving a small nod.

"Ya can do that here?" Ygritte questioned, with a lilt of excitement in her voice.

"I hunt every day to help feed everyone here in the village," Jon said. His smiles came easier around Ygritte, more naturally, and he smiled now when she sounded excited about using a bow.

"The weapons are shared, yeah, but we have enough to go hunting provided we bring them back with us every time." It was strange not to have his own weapons, especially not his own sword, but this was his life now.

"You'll come with?"

That sort of scenario was something Ygritte was quite familiar with. Many times she went out with Tormund, or one of the many other clansmen she got along well with. But the thought of doing something she was good at appealed so much to her.

Even if she didn't have her own bow.

Ygritte nodded and glanced ahead, ready to follow.

"What sorts of things can ya hunt around here? Same as back where we come from?"

"Mostly birds," Jon admitted. "I've gotten a deer once or twice but they're a little scarce. I've got some snares set up for rabbits, though, so we can check them along the way to the deep woods and see if we've gotten anything. You tie them better than I do anyway."

That he coupled with a little self-deprecating smile and laugh; most of what he'd learned about that kind of hunting, he'd learned from Ygritte and Tormund. Lord's sons don't hunt to eat, they hunt for sport and the eating is a secondary benefit.

Here, though, eating is the main benefit to everything they hunt.

If he had to guess, he'd say she's a new arrival; this is a small place, and he's never seen her before. He's on his way out to do some fishing. There's a harpoon over one shoulder, held in place by his hand, and ropes made of vines looped around the other shoulder; at the end of that arm is a hook instead of a hand.

"You'd probably have more luck back that way," he says with a nod of the head in the other direction. "That way is where the town is, such as it is."

"Been there," she answered with a stubborn pride about her. Ygritte looked him over and yes, that hook did catch her attention, even without any sun catching the metal of it with a glint.

The wildling looked back over her shoulder at the direction of said town before coming back to him. "What's down that way?"

"The town is that way. In the other direction is nothing but woods. No one's yet discovered anything else, at least." Maybe one day someone will make a little farther. "The town also has the weapons required for hunting." If that makes a difference.

Her eyes continued to look towards the directions he spoke. Truth was, it was the woods where she felt most comfortable and the place where she could gather her thoughts enough to try and press forward - however that would go in the end.

Ygritte's chin lifted in half understanding. "What's this place called?"

"It's not really called anything. We haven't given it a name, and if it had a name before we arrived here, no one has discovered it." There's a lot they haven't discovered though, so it could be out there somewhere still.

"I suppose we haven't bothered to name it because then that means that we're planning on being here for a good long while." Which they probably will be, but no one wants to think of it like home.

Mood uplifted by finding a grouse with an injured wing in the forest, Jess was on his way back to the inn with his fortuitous catch hanging from a string. That all changed in a hurry the minute he heard rustling from the park's thick foliage, and out stepped a redheaded woman in scrubs the same grey color as his own.

Her hair, he noted, was probably a vibrant red when dry, but now it hung heavy and dark with water, as did the rest of her clothing. A person wandering around in scrubs was a fairly normal sight for this place, but not soaked like that. That good mood of Jess' plummeted.

The fountain. That was the only explanation for her state that came to mind. But that cursed thing had been sitting dry for over two weeks. How...?

Overcome by an ominous sense of deja vu, he realized then that he'd stopped walking and hailed to her before she looked over. "Hey!"

With both arms wrapped around herself, Ygritte wasn't paying much mind to who might be looking at her. Up to that point, most continued on their way, only sparing her a quick glance that conveyed little surprise. Not that the wildling noticed. No, her attention was lost in the forward steps she was making in an attempt to stay on her feet.

The single word did get her attention and that's when she stopped, turned her head and looked directly at him before Ygritte glanced away again to see if the person was indeed talking to her.

You. Yes, you.

Drawing closer to the woman, he held her gaze and said, "You all right, miss?" He had yet to see anyone climb out of the fountain injured beyond a few scrapes and bruises from flailing against the fountain's edges, but that wasn't much of a yardstick to measure wellness by.

It wasn't much of a question to measure wellness by, either. Was anyone all right after finding themselves here?

"Did you come from the... fountain?" Jess almost didn't want to say it. The idea of it being repaired literally overnight was a disturbing one. That thing was seriously not right.

The continued look of confusion would prove she wasn't really. The man wouldn't understand exactly why, but he knew something she didn't: that she hadn't been the only one that had arrived via the fountain in the middle of town.

Ygritte's eyes jerked back up and she gave a nod. "How did ya know?" she asked, her Northern accent thick, yet quiet; a very unnatural thing.

She was doing her best not to show how scared she really was.

The moment she opened her mouth, her accent struck Jess; it had a rough northern lilt to it. There were a few Brits in residence, himself included, and where he and Peggy reflected their Londoner roots, Jon Snow sounded more Manchester to his ear. This woman's dialect was even more pronounced than Jon's.

He filed that away for later, surreptitiously looking her over without making it obvious. "I'm Jess," he started. "I'm a friend. We have that fountain in common--I woke up in it, too. Thought I was about to drown in it, actually."

One positive aspect of inexplicable mass kidnappings: they bring people together.

Jo has to get out sometimes. It's a lot of space, but it's still space in a bubble. It's bigger than the five islands she came from, with less people sure, but it was still a bubble, and one she couldn't leave. One that was hardly the size of the country she'd been in only half a year ago, traipsing the abadon-ness of mostly alone. Sometimes it's worse because she knows that its a bubble, because she wants to keep pushing at it. Especially the more magic shit keeps happening here.

Like new people appearing, whether the fountain was watched or not, had water or not, fixed itself or not.

Like this one, Jo is coming down the road at. Another girl with flame-bright hair. She waits until they aren't too far off. "Hey."

By now, Ygritte has been informed about most of her new surroundings and circumstances. What she still doesn't understand is why a place like this would want a dead woman. It didn't make sense, and it likely wouldn't. So, she tried her best to try and adapt.

As the voice sounded, the wildling looked up and gave a nod in acknowledgement. "Hello."

Jo in some ways feels that way about a good ninty percent of the multiverse. Not that she's dead, so much as that everyone she's ever met from her world is absolutely sure she is and should be, and that's, you know, a barrel of fun. Jo can't help studying her bright hair and her canny eyes for a second as she says it.

"I don't think we've met before. I'm Jo." There's a wave of a hand. "I kind of handle the stuff in the inn for the mapping and upkeep of what's going on around here."

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