if the sky can crack [OTA mingle]

[sixthiteration]

Hail had been falling for two days now, peppering the ground and shredding the grass but rather than melt away like a late spring storm it had only intensified, growing in diameter and moving from a mild annoyance to damned near deadly. As the storm raged, ice flew up through updrafts and was forced back to earth in the downdraft, accumulating layer after layer of murky debris until it went hurtling toward the earth with wicked accuracy.

Shingles were ripped from roofs, the wind howled and lightning cracked. The hail had driven both humans and animals into the safety of the indoors, to the dark corners of buildings that might withstand the assault. With only candlelight and the hushed voices of villagers to stave off fear and boredom, the storm raged like a sentient being heedless of those who might be caught in the path.

After the storm, a calm came over the land and weak sunlight glinted off smoke-tinged ice. Steam rose from the melt and humidity was thick in the air; petrichor hung heavy, a soothing scent after a savage display of natural fury.

[OOC: Your hail mingle post. Feel free to have characters on the run, gathering animals or inside the Town Hall waiting out the storm.]

(no subject)

[thecatinahat]

WHO: Cougar Alvarez
WHERE: Inn
WHEN: Evening of May 14th to early morning 15th
OPEN TO: Mingle!
WARNINGS: None, now
STATUS: Open

---

He'd been in the middle of a supply run when suddenly, the sky opened up. For a man like Cougar, who holds religion close to him, there's something very biblical about this, like he hasn't been paying enough attention to the pages of the old testament, but then, he also hasn't seen any toads creeping out of the water and making him worry that first blood is going to be next (which would be a problem, seeing as he's the eldest Alvarez). It's not just hail, though. It's hued black, a dangerous thing, and Cougar crosses himself before stepping away from the door.

Even if he runs, he thinks he'll be injured, so that means setting up base in the inn for the next little while. At first, he does nothing but sit and zone out, meditating. Eventually, old thoughts start to creep back and Cougar knows that doesn't lead anywhere good, so he starts digging through what they have.

That's when he finds the playing cards. Smirking, he takes the two sets and heads to the nearest table, whistling loud enough to get the attention of anyone in the main room or anyone upstairs listening. "Poker," he calls out to all of them, shuffling cards and trying to keep the smile from his face, seeing as if there's one thing Cougar likes as much as shooting, it's poker.

Well, no, it's cheating at poker, but no one needs to know that just yet.

Besides, the hail doesn't sound like it wants to stop. There's food, there's a roof, and it's a good way to pass the time. He might as well indulge.

wow look what the cat dragged in

[lefthandfree]

WHO: James Buchanan “Bucky” Barnes
WHERE: fountain, inn
WHEN: May 13
OPEN TO: closed arrival, otherwise open to all
WARNINGS: language
STATUS: second prompt is open closed

     the fountain

( closed to pegs )

     the inn (open)

He’s not even going to pretend he’s not new. It seems like something that should be obvious, so why bother with putting people on? Not that it means he won’t do his damned best to make sure people know he’s not incapable, especially with the blatant visible handicap. But he’s dripping a lot less now, and that’s a good time to try and figure out what all he actually needs to deal with given his clear displacement of space and possible displacement of time.

Soaked is still very much the description of his physical state though, something that’s apparently becoming a trend, but he’s far more grateful this time around since his arm isn’t trapped in a vice and, well, he clearly hasn’t gone on a murder rampage either. It’s the little things in life...

There’s a fire at one end of the establishment he wanders into, and even without the cold, it’s a welcome sight. Soggy garments are really not his style, and having a quicker way to dry off other than waiting for the world to end is a huge bonus. He plants himself nearby and takes the opportunity to dig through the pack. It’s sturdy. Effective. But everything else inside is soaked through like him.

God. Why can’t anything ever be easy?

Dragging a hand down his face, he gives a long sigh. One thing at a time, Barnes. And at the least, the water isn’t sopping out of the bag, he tells himself. So it’s not all bad. Maybe.

He wants to laugh, but instead a wry grin plasters itself to his face. Patience is a goddamn virtue, for sure. But as long as he doesn’t get kicked out for being a drowned mess, he’s glad to stay parked here for another couple hours before moving on.