Somethin' Bad About to Happen (Arrival)

[unraisehell]

WHO: Wynonna Earp
WHERE: South Village Fountain
WHEN: 9/15
OPEN TO: Way way way OTA
WARNINGS: None yet

---

a. Initial Arrival
Wynonna hasn't been swimming since she was in Greece.

This water is significantly colder than the Mediterranean, and it's dark, and she is really not loving it. Especially since she doesn't remember jumping in to any water. She remembers sitting with Waverly outside, huddled against the -30 chill in blankets and parkas with the wine keeping them as warm as the fire and talking about where they wanted to be buried. You know, normal sisterly bonding. She thinks she remembers going to bed, but there was a lot of wine so it gets fuzzy after that.

She only struggles for a few moments, before kicking upwards, towards the light, and the moment she breaks the surface she clings to the stone edge, her face a picture of pure panic- but not for herself.

"Waverly?!" she forces out after the water from her lungs. "Waves, baby girl, where are you?!"

She's about to dive back under to start looking for her sister when she hears sounds of life from beyond the well.

b. Sometime later.

She is dry. That's about the most she can say about things that have improved about this situation so far. A change into dry clothes, a quick look through the supplies she had with her on arrival. She's got the red scrubs and a white tank top on, with the scrub pants tucked in to the hiking boots.

Everything about her says New Arrival- the look of confused panic mixed with curiosity, the pristine scrubs, and the fact that she's searching every face she sees for any mark of familiarity.

Comments

sometime later

[quinientos]

Vasquez hasn't worn his scrubs since the first day he'd turned up soaked in them. He'd found himself a box with his name on it, filled with everything he needs to look exactly like the cowboy of 1879 that he is (with a few exceptions, because he doesn't have his spurs or his guns in his belt), but it's still better than the scrubs.

The same colour that she's wearing, even. Vasquez finishes his smoke, curious about anyone who turns up looking the same as him, exhaling the last of the cigarette to the side. That panic, he knows it well, but is he going to be sympathetic?

It's not exactly what he's known for.

He takes a moment to tip his head to the side appreciatively, because if she's going to look at him like she's looking for something, then he can look back. "You like what you see?" he challenges, when he feels her gaze on him.

[unraisehell]

When it had been just his silhouette, Wynonna's heart had skipped a beat and she'd started to walk more quickly towards him.

Her face falls slightly, a flash of visible disappointment that shows for the half-second before he speaks.

"Well, the hat's pretty cool," she says, rocking back a bit on her heels. "Points for historical accuracy."

[quinientos]

Vasquez tips his hat up to her with a pleased smile, because he appreciates his hat very much and he likes the look of it, especially on him. He settles the cigarette between his lips as he works to dig out a match to light up, inhaling sharply before he settles it between his fingers.

"I'm not historically anything," he counters. "This is what I wear from where I come from," is all he says, and it's what he's comfortable with.

[unraisehell]

"Oh. Okay. So then this might sound weird to you but hi, I'm Wynonna Earp. Great-grandaughter to Wyatt, are you going to try to kill me for that?" she asks, because her lawman great-granddaddy sure did make a lot of enemies.

Also, she needs to figure out if this guy's a time-travelling cowboy, an immortal cowboy or a demon cowboy.

[quinientos]

Vasquez gives her a look that's lost. He's not sure of the name, but then again, it's not like he's been keeping up on the news. Shrugging, the confusion remains on his face. "Who?" he asks, bluntly. "I'm Vasquez, and the only people I kill really deserve it," he guarantees.

"So unless you plan to murder and pillage a whole town, I don't give a shit about hurting you. Besides, it's not such a good idea, insulting a beautiful woman like you, is it?"

Initial Arrival

[houmaprotector]

Roaming isn't something he likes doing. Observe and record. Who would have thought I'd have to remember the scientific method? Except it felt good. It felt like visiting an old friend. Ask a question. Where was he? Construct a Hypothesis. I'm no longer in my world.

Next. Procedures. Investigation. Then he'd construct an experiment. I don't know how I'm going to experiment given that I'm a walking swamp the size of a lab, or where I'd get a lab, or-

semantics Alec.

I miss Abby. Abby had a way of making him feel less like a monster and more like a person in a poor situation. Except Abby -

Sacrifice. He drags a big hand through his head. Focus on the science Alec. There's no reason you have to get angry or be frustrated. So far people have been...surprisingly understanding

It could drop at any moment but if he let himself give into despair... You'd retreat into the green and refuse to be human?

Hrrm.

He sits with a loud whump outside a wall, pausing his explorations to stare down at his feet and digest his epiphany. What would Abby say if you'd forgotten how to speak?

[unraisehell]

[This is not Purgatory, and that is definitely not Waverly. Not unless she's she's gone really extra credit with a homemade ghillie suit.]

Holy shit.

[She starts to hoist herself in a way that is in no shape or form graceful, but it is fast. There's a very distinct lack of weight at her hip telling her that Peacemaker did not make this puddle jump with her. Shit. Shit. Shitshitshit-]

[houmaprotector]

[Okay. focus Alec. You can do this. Just remember. Abby would want you to make friends. She would want you to embrace the humanity of this, not lean on the green.

You should do it for her.

He's about to stand up when someone says Holy Shit. Looking up, he spots a wet woman crawling out of the fountain. Ghost? some sort of...undead being? No. It's a woman.

A woman freaking out.]

Stop!...Don't hurt yourself!...I'm not a threat...

[Dare he give chase? That's helpful. The tree guy who sounds like a gorilla with a cold helping somebody Clamboring to his feet takes time.]

I promise! come back...I can take you to somebody who...can help!

[Ever since...the swirling twisting creeper vines his life had become he'd prided himself on being adaptable. Like grass. You can last in any environment. You can do this.

Fighting the ever present fear that someone could cut off a limb or burn him alive made a positive attitude difficult. Never the less, he started to move after her.]

[unraisehell]

[Wait... what?]

Wait... what?

[She kind of stares, mostly out of confusion as fear fades away. Normally someone this big and dangerous would be trying to kill her right now. Does Not Compute.]

[houmaprotector]

[Oh thank god. Running should not be this hard.]

I'm not a threat! I'm new...same as you.

[Pause. She's all wet. He's used to wet but this is a bit more wetter then wet and the bunker is...well. The bunker is farther away from this fountain]

...You didn't come...from the bunker. You came from...where did you come from?

[He peers over her shoulder a few feet away. Clear water, no plant life, no algae...]

From there? Did you...come from there?

A

[oorah]

There's a bloodhound braying, that might be the first thing she hears. Frank knows he shouldn't come by the fountain, that he'll feel responsible for whoever pours out of it. But here he is, with a handsome gray pit bull who's currently hiding behind his leg like a shy toddler and a black and tan bloodhound with her face hanging over the lip of the fountain as she presently loses her damn mind. Yes, Aretha, I see the woman in the fountain, Frank's glare seems to say.

Wynonna comes out yelling and Frank recoils, the cacophony of the dog sounds (Aloe is not whining, who knows why) and this woman's screeching has him grimacing even though he knows the noise won't put them in danger here. He still doesn't like it, months in silence barely undone by months in normal volume. It's like being in black and gray when everyone else is technicolor or something.

"Can I... wait-" He sighs and grabs roughly at one of her arms to try and get her from going back under. He's not letting another woman drown on his watch okay. "Who's Waverly?" His voice is soft and gruff and his face isn't all that kind. But the dogs stop their freaking once she comes up to the surface and his hand is steady the whole way on her arm.

[unraisehell]

She knows enough not to fight someone pulling her out of the water. Given that there's no attempt to hold her under, she clings long enough to help him in pulling her out. Once she's certain he's at least momentarily friendly, she leans heavily onto his solid frame for support, insisting on getting to her feet as quickly as possible.

"My sister. I was with my sister," she says stammers out. "Where is she? Fuck- where- where am I?" she starts to push away from him despite unsteady feet. "Waverly?!"

Evidently, establishing that her sister isn't nearby and hurt is more important than the pressing issue of being pulled out of a fountain.

[oorah]

He lets her lean on him until she gets her bearings, but the second he registers the red scrubs he's taking a stumbling step back. Aretha has no such qualms, working into the space he's vacated and wagging her tail. PAY ATTENTION TO ME NEW PERSON.

"If she came with you, she's in the bunker." But he didn't see her name on the list, so if she did it's the first time. Frank reaches back into the fountain to get Wynonna's backpack and hands it over. "Come on, I'll take you."

[unraisehell]

Purgatory is a town full of friendly wandering farm dogs. Friendly wandering farm dogs that learn to stay the hell out of the woods, admittedly, so she doesn't shrink away from an obviously friendly dog. She likes most dogs more than most people, truth be told.

"Yeah, yeah. Take me there. I need to- god I need to check for anyone I know."

[oorah]

Aretha takes over supporting her as Frank turns away to get them on the path. He wants to lecture her about wet clothes, but it's a mild enough day and if it were David or Curtis? Someone he regarded a brother, Frank wouldn't take the time either. He also shouldn't be taking the time to indulge newcomers, but somehow he always finds himself here anyway.

"Sure," is all he says, shoving his hands in hoodie pockets and not looking to see if she's following. He hears her heavy, squelching steps on the path behind him anyway.

B

[nonstopnarcissist]

"I know that look." Like the dazed and confused wandering isn't proof enough of fresh blood in the village. Half of him wonders if the lists are going to update themselves- the rest? More curious about who all they keep bringing in. "It's the 'motherfuck what is even happening' face."

Tony's got a sooty rag of what was once part of a zebra print snuggie (look it's all they've got in excess, it does it's job) tucked in his back pocket, arms still a little grubby from the day's work. "You find your way to the Inn yet?"

[unraisehell]

Wynonna shakes her head. "Not yet," she says, meeting Tony's eyes. "Does this really happen so often there's a signature Look? This is so fucked up. Possibly even more fucked up than usual."

[nonstopnarcissist]

"No, I was just wearing it myself a week ago so it's pretty familiar." There's not really been a surge of new arrivals that he's noticed (kind of absorbed in his own shit, whoops) but it's a unique and relateable kind of fugue. "Though I am kind of curious what your usual if this is only 'possibly' more fucked up."

[unraisehell]

She sighs, realizing that she's too tired to lie, or care about whether or not this guy thinks she's crazy.

"I'm the great-granddaughter of Wyatt Earp, bound by a family curse to hunt the 77 demons he initially damned by killing them with his Bluntline Special." Shrug.

[nonstopnarcissist]

"..." On a sliding scale of american historical figures of semi-myth and Literal Norse Gods-

He's not sure where a cursed descendant rates on the weird-o-meter. "Uh-huh."

A beat.

"So you definitely want to get to the inn, there's a guy that hawks moonshine there and a vampire that distills vodka in the kitchen sometimes."

Sometime later

[ataashihunter]

Bull might be everything but familiar, but he moves through the village as if he belongs here. The large Qunari ducks a little as he makes his way into the inn at lunch time, picking up a plate of food and then walking over and sitting down in one of the few chairs he knows for a fact will hold him. Unfortunatly for Wynonna that puts him right in her line of sight and he gives her a grin.

"They there.

[unraisehell]

Wynonna will deny it later, but she does almost jump a little when Bull sits down- less in fear so much as just being terribly unused to things as big as he is being friendly.

Just ask the Plant Guy.

"Sexy Minotaur. Alright. I'm drunk enough to deal with that. Hi. I'm Wynonna, and- wow, holy crap you are huge, aren't you?"

[ataashihunter]

He chuckles. "What is a minotaur?" He smiles and then offers his hand. "I am the Iron Bull and well, yes. " He grins

[unraisehell]

"A man-bull with a thing for mazes. Well, less a thing so much as just being trapped in one for his whole existence," she tries not to let that thought get to metaphorical, given the situation they're all in.

"Wynonna. Which is, I really feel, a lot less badass-sounding than the Iron Bull. And my God, do I have so many jokes about my rodeo experience I'm just barely holding back."

[ataashihunter]

"Well that sucks for him." He gives her a bit of a smile.

"It is not a bad name. What is a rodeo? I don't think we have those in my world."