Coming out into the snow.

[seekingvinland]

WHO: Thorfinn Thorsson
WHERE: The Inn, The streets, House 22, House 4.
WHEN: January 19th
OPEN TO: OTA, except the threads for house 22 and house 4, which are only open to its occupants.
WARNINGS: descriptions of depression, and hallucinations.
STATUS: Open

---

House 8/The Inn
Thorfinn had not yet kicked out of the return of his old anti-social ways. Of late he would even walk past his friends with little more than a nod of his head. He didn't feel worthy of the friends he had. It had gotten to the point of late that he slept in everyday until around noon, staying up all hours of the night sitting in the living room whittling things by the firelight. He didn't want to be a bother to anyone. It was near dawn when he had let himself sleep, draped across the couch where he stayed until well into the afternoon when his nightmares brought him up screaming.

He pushed himself up and got changed into something warmer before latching his cloak on. Checking on the fire before he left he made his way out the back door towards the inn. Since the shakes days before had returned he was curious to see if everyone was okay, but he also wasn't sure if he should. He could already hear people were inside and smell the food from within. He rarely came to lunch either, but today he did. His hair hanging loose around his shoulders, still a bit staticy from sleep, with the hat Cougar had gifted for the holiday over his messy hair, pulled down, and the mjolnir necklace Vee had gifted around his neck.

He moved silently getting something to eat before moving off to a quiet corner to sit, putting his bag down beside him and he started to eat, the hat pulled down a bit more. He liked the hat more than he should likely admit.

---

Walking to House 22
Thorfinn rarely went to people's houses, at least not inside anyway. So, when he left the inn he knew exactly where he was going. He had not made an effort to go to the blacksmith in a few days and through he knew he should go check on what mess it might be he didn't, he just made the walk down the streets heading to house #22. The bag held on his forearm by the straps, as he had his cloak pulled closed against him, moving against the chilly breeze, the snow still crunching under his feet.

He watched the snow fall around him, looking up now and then from under the brim of the hat. One thing that always amazed him, no matter how cold it was he was always loved the sight of pure snow falling. The beauty of the flakes as they rained down. Every now and then he would stop and just watch them, at least until he started to see things moving out of the corner of his eyes, pale graying fingers coming up out of the snow.

He would move quickly as soon as he noticed it, muttering low. "Nei nei, vinsamlegast, ekki núna"

---

Closed to Cougar (And/or Jake and Vee)
Reaching the house, he walked up on the porch, kicking his boots against the top of the stairs to knock the snow off before he moved to knock on the door. He didn't know why he felt so odd making a visit to the home of a friend. He usually loved spending time with Cougar, and even Jake and Vee, and yet and still he felt awkward as he stood there.

He pondered turning and going but he had already knocked and that seemed even more rude.

---

Closed to Claire and Margaery
It was into the evening when Thorfinn was making his way home from the woods, he had gone from Cougar's house on into the woods to kill some time. Making his way back he had managed to catch two hares. He knew he should likely take both home, but as he made his way down the way he thought of Margaery and her new friend. It was close, so it was no harm.

Dropping his bag in the snow he made his way up the stairs careful not to trip. He wasn't sure if it was to late to be calling, but he was in better spirits after seeing his friends and it seemed the best time to drop off a gift. So he knocked waiting holding the fresh kill by its ears, he looked down the way to his home already lit up, clearly someone had returned.

(no subject)

[igotacrossbow]

WHO: Jake Jensen
WHERE: The Jensen-Alvarez-Sawyer residence
WHEN: Backdated to Jan 10
OPEN TO: Cougar
WARNINGS: N/A
STATUS: Ongoing

---

So. Christmas was a thing that apparently happened, even though nobody knew what day of the week it was, let alone what day of the month. Jake had been keeping track of the number of days he's been down here by writing on the walls of the boiler room, down in the cellar, but since he couldn't be sure what day he fell through that stupid fountain, his tally hadn't really been all that useful in the long run. Still, every morning, he goes down to put wood in the furnace so they can have hot water, and he scratches another tick on the wall. It's beginning to be quite a large collection, he's not sure how he feels about that.

He's also not entirely sure how he feels about all those gifts that popped up. Some of them were useful, like the blankets they were given, or the boxes of flour from Miss Kelly, but some of them didn't seem to make much sense. (He had immediately devoured his hamburger, though, and then cried a little bit about it later when his stomach protested the food it had grown unused to and he missed being able to just go grab a burger in the middle of the night.) Cougar's ridiculously huge bottle of lube had gotten a good laugh, and he'd teased him about only keeping Jake around for one thing, but in the end, it had been a pretty useful gift. Lube could be used for all sorts of things, he knows that well enough. Just like he knows that it can be used precisely for its intended purpose, and then it works great.

What really worries him, though, is that it doesn't look like he got Cougar a gift. Everyone else gave and received things to and from him, but not Cougar. And that makes Jake feel like a really shitty friend, forget boyfriend. He'd been waiting for Cougar to bring it up, unsure of how to apologize for something that was apparently out of his control, but Cougar hadn't said a word, and the guilt has been weighing on him strongly.

Eventually, he seeks Cougar out, determined to at least be a man about this and face his embarrassed shame head-on.

"Hey, dude," he says, poking his head around the door frame of the room he's finally found Cougar in. "You got a minute? I wanna talk about something." Which should be like a neon sign to Cougar by now; Jake hardly ever asks to talk about something, he just launches into story and it's up to you to catch up to the narrative.

And Way Down We Go

[pretendtoneedme]

WHO: Clint Barton, whoever
WHERE: Around town, the fountain...
WHEN: Throughout January 19th
OPEN TO: Anyone who wants to encounter him
WARNINGS: Standard mentions of drowning, otherwise TBD, but there'll probably be talk of fighting at the very least. Violent babies.
STATUS: Yes (if this changes, I'll edit)

---

1) Arrival (Early Morning)

Waking up underwater was pretty much the last thing Clint expected after managing to fall asleep after their rescue – and it was pretty much the worst. Whatever phobias he'd had as a kid had been trained out of him over the course of his life, but there was still a lingering thread of unease about really deep water, since even with as good as swimmer as he was he probably wouldn't be able to escape it fast enough to find breathable air. It didn't ever lock him down or stop him from going on any sort of underwater transport, but he was always just a hair more primed to act when on a sub or a submerged helicarrier. Birds just did better in the air.

So when he woke up not only not where he expected, but underwater, Clint's first reaction was one brief moment of panic before clamping it down, because panic would definitely get him killed and he had a lot to live for to die so stupidly. There was a soft light filtering down from what was probably above him if the pull of gravity was any indication, something looped around his shoulders that felt familiar and so was discarded as not a threat for the moment, and a sense of being pushed up. Whatever was going on here, getting air was the most important thing, and only about a second of orienting himself and taking all of that information in passed before he was following that push and kicking to the surface. Fortunately it wasn't as deep as it looked and he broke the surface only a few moments later, gasping for a clean breath and sculling to the edge of the... fountain? What in the hell...? And why was a fountain so deep...?

Grabbing the rim, Clint hauled himself bodily up and over the side to sprawl on the ground, breathing heavily and waiting for the pressure in his head to even out. Once it did, he was smacked clean in the face with how cold it was, especially for someone who'd gone to sleep in early summer in Africa. It wasn't made better by the fact that he'd managed to fall in a pile of old snow, or that he was only wearing what looked like white scrubs and some decent boots – neither of which he'd ever seen before. (At least the scrubs weren't blue.) Sitting around wasn't going to help anything, and he needed to dry off and warm up before his muscles seized and he got hypothermia. Waiting would do him and anyone else stuck in this situation no good. Pushing himself to his feet, Clint started stumbling to the nearest building that looked like it was inhabited, determined to find some answers.

2) Acclimatization (Early Afternoon)

Absolutely nothing about this place made sense. That was the only conclusion he could come to – it had to be magic, or alien science, or something. How else could a person (group of people, probably) kidnap so many different people from so many different times and worlds and with so many different skillsets? And not have any of them remember how they got here or be able to find a way out? They had to be dealing with something beyond any of their experiences and that, more than anything, was a frightening thought.

But he didn't let it show, because it would do no good. Panicking would just leave them stuck at square one, and so the first step was to canvas the area. It would take him a few days to map the entire place (as much as he could), but for now Clint – now warm, dry, and wearing every speck of clothing that had been in that pack since it was a shock to go from summer to winter – was taking his first walk around the village, ducking into every major building just to see what's going where and start making his mental map. Know where all the hiding places and all the exits are. Don't get stuck in a corner if you can at all help it. Maybe they were trapped in this place, but they didn't need to make it easy for whoever put them there.

3) Analysis (Late Afternoon/Evening)

Maybe it was a dumb idea for his first day, but Clint didn't even try to stop himself from taking a short walk into the woods. He wouldn't go far – monsters or animals or whatever weren't something he wanted to take on without at least a knife he could throw – but it was another resource, another set of potential hiding places, and it sounded like their best chance for food. He hadn't grown up with nothing in the backwoods of the mountains, but he knew how to survive out there and how to best live off the land if he had to. He was good at hunting and he was not good at sitting around and doing nothing (much to the annoyance of the doctors at S.H.I.E.L.D.). Day One was probably too early to jump in like that, especially since he had nothing to hunt with, but he wanted a first look so he could start making some plans.