Credits & Style Info

Feb. 1st, 2017

candor1: (encapuchado)
[personal profile] candor1
WHO: Erik Lensherr, Percival Graves, Cassian Andor, and YOU NICE PEOPLE
WHERE: (i) The Greek ruins with Erik / TBD with Graves. (ii) The waterfall. (iii) The hospital.
WHEN: After Fin/Annie's Town Meeting through Now
OPEN TO: (i) is closed; (ii) and (iii) are OTA
WARNINGS: vet struggles, speculative projection of ECT +/ EMDR, reproductive choices, murder, self-endangerment, physical injury, and "too much exposition"[Urinetown].
STATUS: Closed

Show me the secret pages of the Book of Stars. [Closed] (attn. Lensherr, Graves) )

What power enables prophecy and sorcery in a world controlled by logic and law [OTA] (attn. anyone) )

I ask you to believe this not because it is true, but because it is a beginning [OTA] (attn. medical professionals [Claire, Ravi, Rory?], anyone) )
beallmysins: (Default)
[personal profile] beallmysins
WHO: Jax Teller
WHERE: fountain; village
WHEN: 1 February
OPEN TO: All
WARNINGS: language
STATUS: open



I. THE CROW FLIES STRAIGHT

Water. Everything is fucking water from the top of his head to the bottom of his shoes and when Jax breathes in, he takes in a huge fucking lungful of it. It's burning like fire and he has no idea how he's drowning. He's known how to swim since he could walk, just about, so he pushes off against the bottom of the pool and claws his way up.

When his head breaks free of the water he realizes it's not the ocean or a swimming pool but a goddamn fountain. He half expects fairies or some shit pouring water but it's just a regular fountain, bubbling as if a full grown man hadn't just burst his way up from the bottom. Jax places his palms at the lip of it and pushes himself up and out, collapsing against the ground.

Wherever he is, its cold enough that he doesn't want to be outside in wet clothes and he lays there for just a few minutes, trying to catch his breath. He needs a cigarette. He needs a whole goddamn carton of cigarettes, at this juncture, and he has a sinking suspicion that no cigarettes will be to hand. There's a backpack or something strapped to his back and after laying on it for a few minutes he rolls over to his side and works it off; it's got a change of clothes in it, at least.

"Well I'll be damned," he says, pulling out the clothes to examine them. "Scrubs. Must be prison again." Doesn't explain the fountain, which wasn't at Stockton the last time he did time, but maybe he's gotten some kind of rec privileges and had a fight.

"Where the fuck am I?"

II. A PERFECT LINE

It takes him a little while to get his bearings but once he does, he sets out in search of civilization. He's got to figure out where the fuck he is and how to get out but, in the meantime, he needs a shower and a change of clothes. He's got the second part of it handled thanks to the pack he came in with but the first part is going to take a little more doing.

Wandering out of the park with the fountain, he finds a road and starts to follow it. Road has to lead to somewhere, right? Sure as he picks a direction and sticks with it, he comes up on several buildings. One of them looks like a police station, based on the shape and size of it, and he thinks there's some fucking goats or something in there making noise. Probably not the best idea to duck his head in there. No idea where he is but there's almost always some kind of outstanding warrant on his head these days thanks to feuding with the sheriff's office and the Niners so he's steering clear.

The next building he comes up on is a little busier, people coming in and out, and Jax runs a hand through his damp hair and strides up to the porch with the intention of getting some fucking information. Someone has to know more than "village that nobody knows the name of or how to leave," and he intends on shaking down whoever he needs to shake down to be able to get directions out of here. He's carless and bikeless, sure, but he can hitch if he needs to. It wouldn't be the first time.

He gets distracted when a woman walks past him and he tips his head, watching her ass as she walks by. The scrubs do nothing for anyone, it's true, but he likes to admire beauty where he can.

III. GOTTA RAISE SOME HELL

So after figuring out that there's really no way out of here and no matter how many pointed questions or threats he offers in exchange for information he's not getting anything out of the people here because they don't know anything, Jax decides he's going to go outside the inn and blow off some steam. He doesn't anticipate that there's a goddamn chicken coop out there, though, and he has no experience with chickens or farms or any of that domestic shit.

What is he, a fucking hippie? No.

Still, the chickens seem to be curious and one draws up close. He guesses it's the kind of thing his kids might want to see at the zoo or something, if he did stuff like that with his kids, and Jax reaches a hand out to pet one of them. He gets a peck between finger and thumb in response and jerks away. Still, the ground is soft and wet from what feels like a whole lot of rain (or snowmelt, maybe, but he has no idea if it snows in this fucking town or not) and he slides, feet going out from under him.

He lands, of course, in a whole bunch of chicken shit and the chicken looks pleased with herself. He's covered in mud, chicken shit and feathers and now the other chickens are clucking at him too. What is this, a goddamn chicken riot?

"I'm going to eat one of you fuckers if you don't stop," he curses, mostly under his breath. He thinks he probably shouldn't murder someone's pets even if they're stupid pets and he works on pushing himself to his feet. He's going to need another shower - probably ten showers to get all this off him and he hopes like hell that nobody saw that shit.

He stares at the chicken and moves his fingers from his eyes to point at it, issuing a threat. "You and me. I'm gonna get you back for this."
tooktheblack: (head turned; spring)
[personal profile] tooktheblack
WHO: Jon Snow
WHERE: the woods; the inn; House Stark
WHEN: 1 February
OPEN TO: all
WARNINGS: TBD
STATUS: open



I. LITTLE SON COME SAFELY HOME

Jon rose early as he always did but there was something different about the world today - the snow was gone. The ground was wet, yes, but it was not nearly as cold as it had been for the past two moons and the snow that had been ceaseless seemed to have stopped falling from the sky and had receded from the roofs and the ground below. Jon had never experienced a true spring thaw considering the nature of the seasons in Westeros but he had the sense that this was not the way it happened.

Exiting his home, he knelt down and touched the earth, letting the mud slip through his fingers before rising to his feet again. Hopefully with the melting of the snow his hunting would come easier and, with that goal in mind, he set out before sunrise with his bow and quiver.

This time in the woods was precious to him. It was a time to think, a time to gather his thoughts and steel himself for the day ahead. He did not mind this place so much. He knew that others hated it and longed to return home but for him, he had gifts here that he could not have back in Westeros; this place had gifted him two sisters and his brother. This place had gifted him Ygritte. These were things more precious than a horse or sword, more precious than wine or song. These were irreplaceable.

Jon sighted a stag and waited for it to pass. He never took the first he saw, in fear of not seeing another, and when a doe stepped out after the stag he let his arrow fly and take it. If the gods were good, they'd have venison stew tonight.

II. THE DAY GETS DARK UNEASILY

When the hour grew late and the sun had sunk down low enough that the sunlight was a weak, thin thing, Jon decided he'd had enough of checking traps and hunting game and decided to bring his catch to the inn. Some of it would come back with him to be shared with House Stark alone, the smaller game, but the deer was something he'd have to leave at the kitchens to be shared with everyone. Lady Kate ought to be able to make something fine of it; Jon had come to enjoy her cooking over the past several moons and he was eager to see what she'd do with the deer.

After bringing his game indoors and cleaning the rabbits to bring home (skins for Sansa, meat for stew in their homes), he settled in front of the fire for a little while. It wasn't as cold as it had been the past several moons, no, but after being out in the woods for the majority of the day Jon was looking forward to having something hot to drink and just resting before making the long walk back to the home he shared with Ygritte.

He had a mug of some sort of tea, some concoction made with herbs. It wasn't like the tea he'd drunk at Winterfell, of course, but it was something that was hot and soothed his throat and warmed his belly. It would sustain him for the walk to Robb's and, later, for the walk back down to his own house. As he drank, he watched the crack and pop of the logs in the fireplace and it felt, for all the world, like being at Winterfell again.

As people came in and out around him, he nodded; he wasn't terribly talkative, no, but it was hard not to greet those who had been living and working alongside him for the past several months.

III. BEAUTIFUL LIKE A SONG

The hour was later still and Jon eventually vacated his chair inside the inn for another place, a place warmed not only by the logs on the fire but the warmth of his family. Robb's house was always packed with people considering he lived with Sansa and Arya and when Jon stepped up onto the porch and pushed the door in, he wasn't surprised to see family gathered there.

It was still novel to him to have family so close and now that he and Robb weren't quarreling any longer he felt much more comfortable just showing up unannounced. He had skins for Sansa - ones that needed to be tanned and ones that had already been tanned and were ready to be used. He had meat for them, a few rabbits that might make a night's supper. He also had himself, no matter how dour of company he often was.

His family always brought a smile to his face in spite of whatever foul mood he might have worked himself into and today he was in high spirits, a grin playing at his lips and merriment in his voice.

"Sansa? Arya? Robb? Who's home? I've brought gifts."
andrend: (04 I hear something more)
[personal profile] andrend
WHO: Kylo Ren
WHERE: Just outside the Inn
WHEN: February 1st
OPEN TO: All; Threadjack style
WARNINGS: None other than that this is really long.
STATUS: Open


The fact that daily meals not only existed, but seemed to do so in spite of snow, earthquakes, and auroras in the sky, was one of a few consistently positive glimmers of hope for the village and its inhabitants. It also had the benefit of drawing a large number of those same inhabitants to one predictable location more often than not. For Ren, that was normally a reason to avoid the inn in the hours after dawn and before dusk. However, with his mind on the conversations he had had with Sansa and Veronica, and the missing beast presumably still roaming somewhere out in the canyon, Ren knew he couldn't keep approaching the problem the way he had been, previously.

Veronica's advice still lingered in his mind fresh enough after a month of thought to have him trying something new. He waited for a good number of people to enter the inn before doing so himself, and asked, with a softened tone and a calm voice, if people could spare a moment when they finished to have a discussion.

He had missed the most recent meeting, entrenched as he had been in his training. It had been another lost opportunity, and he wanted no more of those. This was as good of a chance as any, and he was taking action before action could be taken from him.

With his request submitted, he left the inn and borrowed a sturdy crate from outside one of the unused buildings. He took a seat on it, just outside the front of the inn, during the meal. Most people came and went through the doors, and it gave him a good position without worrying about the crowding of the growing village's size packed inside one space.

When enough people decided to come out and take part, he stood back up, his long hair loosely pulled back, and the scar the cut across his face and down his arm far more visible for it. He looked around at the faces gathered, some familiar, others new, and straightened his back, standing taller and more assured. He needed people to trust him, or at least trust that what he had to say might be important. But he could not be harsh, he could not demand. He had to coax reason out, and the only way to do so was to offer his ideas as ideas, and nothing more.

"A lot has happened in this canyon. Some of you have been here for far more of it than I have. There have been hazards, storms, unusual discoveries, and violent creatures. People come and go, almost always without the slightest inclination as to how or why. I myself have gone and returned, and I remember nothing of it." He paused there, one hand holding onto the metal staff he had been using so long now it had become an extension of him. He rested it on the ground like a cane now, using it to keep himself grounded.

"This canyon is unpredictable. The dangers and threats that may face us in the future can not be anticipated wholly, and there is no way of knowing who among us will still be around to see them. But one thing is clear. I do not believe our captors have ever intended anything positive of this place. They observe, and they prevent our escape. They take our strength, our possessions, our memories," He hesitates a moment, his grip tightening on the staff, his voice sharper for a moment before settling back to an even tone. "And they toy with us. We have no idea who they are, what their true intentions may be, or how they came to bring us here, only that for now we are trapped here, together."

He looks over the group that has gathered, a frown crossing his face, his brows furrowed a moment before smoothing over. He has to choose his words carefully, and for the sometimes reckless young man, it isn't easy not to dive straight in.

"I think it's time we discuss whether or not this place needs more than the loose assortment of tasks and common, repeated actions it has as it currently stands. I believe we need a leadership in place. A council. With how unpredictable this place has proven to be, no one person can or should be trusted with that task but more dangers will come, we will face more disasters, more attacks that we can not see coming. We can not assume that we will always have the luxury of waiting until after the fact to react."

He breathes, slow and deep, and tries to find the words again, searching for the right phrasing, the right voice.

"I think a council is something we should consider. A group of people to share the burden of making tough calls or assigning tasks when things go wrong, or when something needs to get done. It will not work, however, if disagreement runs rampant underneath it. That's why I came here. At the very least, it should be discussed. If the majority is against it, I will drop the matter, but if we do not at least have this conversation, I do not think this village will last many disasters before the fragile organization the structure of it is currently built on collapses and falls apart."

Having said his piece, Ren stepped aside, and offered the area he had been speaking from to anyone who might choose to use it.

[This is a meeting post open to threadjacking, interruptions, opinions, and the like. If your character has anything to say, let them do so. I'll drop a secondary comment below for Ren specifically, otherwise go wild and respond to anyone you like or start your own thing. It's intended to be an IC discoure over whether or not the village needs some form of leadership, but any actual organizing of a leadership is not intended or planned to be formed from this meeting.]