001 – Trading Hells [OPEN]

[mediumhoodie]

WHO: Kat
WHERE: Fountain & Inn & Around House 48
WHEN: August 2nd
OPEN TO: Closed
WARNINGS: Drowning [a little], past injuries & trauma.

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AUGUST 2nd [ARRIVAL & INN]
[ooc: I'd like for only one person to comment at the fountain, everything else is fair game.]

Water pulsed and Kat felt herself being lifted. Her arm had been broken, her body bruised and her heart shattered. The first two injuries had been wrought by Mundus, a demon of pain and torture, but the other… That had come from someone close to her. Someone she had loved. Someone she still loved.

I'm sorry.

Her throat began to burn as her body struggled for air. The push lifted her higher and when she reached the surface of the fountain she gasped, coughing as she fought to open her eyes. Kat remembered the comfort and strength of Dante's arm as it curled around her slim shoulders but nothing after that. Her feet kick beneath her, pushing her towards the fountains edge. She used one arm to lift herself and the backpack from the water, never noticing that her other arm wasn't broken anymore.

Waves splashed onto the stone.

Kat sat and stared at the village around her. She focused on breathing, on clearing her thoughts, and remaining calm. This wasn't the first time she'd found herself in a strange place though it didn't have the same feeling as Limbo.

After taking a moment to get her bearings and catch her breath, Kat rose and headed towards the inn. She didn't know that it was a central location in the village or some kind of important landmark but she had noticed the curling gray tendrils of smoke rising from the chimney. Out of everywhere in the village, it was her best bet.

Once inside she inspected the walls, the notes and then found a place next to the fire to sit and dry off. Her backpack ended up leaning against the far side of the hearth. Kat wasn't too worried about it or its contents. She sat in front of the fire, her legs curled to her chest, her thoughts tumbling uncomfortably into loosely formed theories and questions.

She would survive. She always survived, even if she didn't have a clear reason to survive anymore.

AUGUST 2rd [NIGHT AROUND HOUSE 48]
[ooc: This takes place after this thread and after everything has been explained to her.]

Kat's conversation with Vergil had gone better than she would have expected. The confrontation felt like it had happened two days ago though there was no mark left on her body. His words back then, they had cut her, but Kat wanted to give him a chance and she truly thought that he had that chance here. He was human now. He was working. He was more than a man with two lives and a hidden agenda. That didn't mean that Kat didn't think that Vergil was scheming but that she wanted to support his efforts.

It hurt. She didn't want to admit how much he had hurt her but she was used to pain.

She wouldn't let her pain rule her.

Kat held the small note in her palm as she looked for the correct house. It'd been a code, as expected of Vergil, but Kat had worked with Vergil long enough to have figured out what he had meant without too much difficulty. She had brought her backpack with her, having no other place to put it, and had collected some items that she would need from the inn. Now she had to find Vergil's home.

It would have helped if he hadn't just given her a piece of paper with a number on it.

Darkness covered the village like a veil with the bright moon illuminating Kat's wandering path. She continually looked down at the small piece of paper, looking incredibly lost while trying to recall the map she'd seen at the inn. When she reached the mill she knew that she'd gone too far, turned around and continued her search.

[ooc: If you want something special or to continue test drive things please let me know. I am happy to write up meeting starters for anyone who wants to run into her.]

Be the spark that ignites a revolution | mingle post

[juststayalive]

WHO: Haymitch Abernathy
WHERE: somewhere near the village
WHEN: August 2
OPEN TO: All
WARNINGS: Mentions of child death)

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This is not something Haymitch ever wanted to experience. He's seen too many kids die, some before they even made it to Peeta's age. After both Peeta and Katniss had made it out of the arena alive, this was something he had thought they could skip.

This is also not something he expected to be at the head of. In District 12, it would have been Peeta's family. Here, in the absence of Peeta's family, the duties fall to Haymitch, as the one who knew him best, and the traditions of his home.

Peeta had asked them to paint his coffin, which isn't part of the usual funeral in District 12, but is so very fitting for Peeta. Haymitch is nowhere near as skilled at it as Peeta was, but he has enough skill to paint a crude symbol of a circle enclosing a bird clutching an arrow. It won't mean much to anyone not from Panem, but it's the only way he can think to honor what Peeta meant. And a promise to keep fighting for a world where innocents don't die for entertainment, whether they're killed by a mutt or by another person.

He doesn't have much to say, instead letting the painting do the talking. There are no appropriate words for this situation, anyway, and none that he's willing to share with relative strangers. He listens in silence to any words that anyone else might have to say.

Once everyone else has had their say, Haymitch steps up next to the coffin again. He only has a few words to add: "For the honor of his sacrifice." The Capitol's words, intended for a fallen tribute, but more appropriate than ever in this case. Here his sacrifice had been not for the supposed glory of gluttons living out their lavish existence in isolation from those who actually made that existence possible, but for the rest of those living here.

He adds something to the end of his statement, something that most here can't know isn't typical of a funeral in Peeta's home. It's a particular three-fingered salute. and if the Capitol's watching, well, they already know Haymitch is a threat. There's no point in attempting to hide it now, and there's nothing more that can be done to punish Peeta for any imagined infractions.

He lets his hand fall back to his side and steps back into the crowd.

[Closed] For Claire

[digging]

WHO: Karen Page
WHERE: House 3
WHEN: 2 August
OPEN TO: Claire Temple
WARNINGS: n/a

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It feels to Karen like the whole village is exhausted in a way that sleep really just can't cure. Not that many of them have the option of simply laying in bed all day long regardless, too much to do just to keep all of them alive. For weeks, Karen's felt like she was plodding along, treading water; the last few days are just the salt in the wound. She doesn't really know what she's doing with herself anymore, going through the motions of cleaning up after — After the earthquake, after the monster attack, after... well.

There's still limbs downed all over the village, and Karen's just finished carrying in the latest bundle of sticks she's broken down to supplement their firewood. She probably needs a shower, but settles for washing her hands in the kitchen sink instead, and puts on the kettle.

"Claire?" she calls out into the house. "Do you want tea?"

and me, i am not a mess, i am a wilderness, yes.

[scathefires]

WHO: Jason Todd and anyone who wants to meet the Red Hoodlum.
WHERE: The Fountain, House #9, basically everywhere else.
WHEN: Aug. 2-4ish
OPEN TO: All y'all. (Please feel free to use brackets or prose, I'll match tag style!)
WARNINGS: Jason's remembered past trauma re: death and probably some swearing. Maybe violence. It's Jason, who knows.

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( be careful of the natural world. )