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WHO: Killian Jones (aka Hook)
WHERE: The fountain
WHEN: July 19th
OPEN TO: Everyone!
WARNINGS: None. Unless you want to avoid an annoyed pirate.
STATUS: Open

The first thing he's aware of is that he's underwater.

The second thing he's aware of is that he shouldn't be underwater. He had been on the way to stop Emma from making a mistake she didn't even know she was making; he hadn't been anywhere near the docks. Yet somehow here he is, in the water anyway, with what must be the surface shimmering above him, if the light is anything to go by.

He feels a slight push from beneath, towards the light. He's spent a lifetime, in fact several lifetimes, at sea; he knows how to swim. In addition, he knows how little time it takes to drown. He's seen it happen more times than he can remember, when a sailor falls overboard and isn't rescued fast enough.

He kicks with his feet, pulls with his hand. This would have been easier in the days before he lost it. Even without it, he's a fairly strong swimmer, born from years of a life at sea. It takes everything he has to fight the instinct to take a breath. He knows that would be the end of him. There's a burning in his lungs, a need to take in air, but he won't give in.

His hand breaks the surface first, then his head appears. He gasps and sucks in a breath, then takes stock of where he is. A fountain. Much smaller than he would have guessed from his swim. He hooks an arm over the edge of the fountain, then a leg, and pulls himself over onto the ground below. He leans against the edge of the fountain for a few moments, catching his breath, then glances down at himself to make sure everything is how it should be. He's wearing...well he doesn't know what he's wearing. At least it's still black.

Where is he?

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Black scrubs and an unfamiliar face.

Peggy could practically put together a list of the unfamiliar faces she's met, though it seems that some of them are those she might know so long as she allows several decades to pass. Unfortunately, she hasn't that kind of time. "Are you all right?" she asks as she offers out a hand in order to try and be polite, allow him a chance to get to his feet. "Apart from being waterlogged and disoriented, of course." There's no avoiding that.

"It's not the first time I've been that." If he were to be honest, it probably won't be the last time he's like that either.

He takes the offered hand to get to his feet, with a nod of thanks. "I don't seem to be any worse for wear."

"Are you a particular fan of nearly drowning as a hobby, then?" is her jesting remark, because as far as she's concerned, how she arrived her is a singular event that shouldn't really be repeating itself.

She steps back after helping him, the water still dripping from her fingertips. "I don't know where to start, but I'm a believer in being blunt. You're not where you expect to be," is her even start.

"I'm not particularly a fan of that, no. I'd rather prefer if it would stop happening, in fact." At least time it doesn't seem like it was done with the intention of killing, or of tricking someone into giving up something they didn't know they'd lose.

"Aye, that much is apparent. Where is it that I am, then?"

Emma had taken to taking a walk everyday just to see if anything had changed. She didn't expect that anything would, but she figured if something did it would be a pleasant surprise, and frankly she could use some good in her life. The bruises on her arms and wrists were fading, but she remembered them. She hated that she had been caught so unawares.

She stops dead and stares. She has to be dreaming, right? He was just a figment of her imagination, he had to be. There was no way that she would get lucky enough to have someone from back home.

They're really going to need to come up with some kind of name for this place. At this moment, all that Peggy has is that he's washed himself up on the shores of a fountain in a place that seems inescapable, despite her best attempts. "As far as we can tell, it's a closed environment with limited technology," she says, diving straight to the point of it. "Several of us have made attempts at escape, but it seems that there are some natural barriers to that."

"Canyons," she explains, "and other things keep happening, like the river flooding." Not to mention that awful, howling windstorm she'd encountered when she'd first hauled herself out. Which reminds her, she now has to wonder whether she ought to be worried about that, here. "Something happened when I came out of that fountain, though, a terrible windstorm. Perhaps we'll know if arriving here triggers it, with you."

"That sounds about right." Of course he'd be stuck somewhere that he can't get out of. That seems to be the story of his life lately, especially when he has somewhere he'd rather be. Someone he'd rather be with.

"I apologize in advance if it does." Not that he figures that makes much difference. "It's not just us? There are others here?"

He's just sat down on the edge of the fountain to pull his boots off to try and make them less soggy when he looks up and catches sight of someone watching him. Someone he'd been on his way to see before ending up here -- wherever here is -- instead. Someone he's been through so much for already, and he doesn't regret a moment of it.

She's safe. She's here, and she's safe.

He stands back up from the fountain and walks slowly toward her, as though he's not sure of what he's seeing. "Swan? Emma?" He reaches for her, slowly. He doesn't want to know if she's not real.

"Yes," Peggy confirms, which is both a blessing and a curse. She's happy not to have to do this alone, but at the same time, she's not entirely sure about everyone else. Some of them seem to have some familiarity with her, and that's the part she doesn't like.

She gives his scrubs a curious look, trying to ignore the itch of wanting real clothes again. "I can take you around to the homes that people have started to claim? If you'd like to meet some."

“Aye, that would do.” It seems to him that this would serve a couple of purposes. It would allow him to see some of this new world, whatever world it is, in the process of meeting some of those who live here. And it sounds like there are just homes for the taking, so it might help him sort out the housing situation too.

But perhaps if he’s going to get a tour, there’s something else he should do first. He extends his hand out to her. “Captain Killian Jones. Most call me Hook.” A glance at his left hand should make it obvious why.

Peggy sees the hook and thinks the name is a little on the nose. "I'll call you Killian, then, if you don't mind," she offers, not thinking that she could really afford to call him 'Hook' seriously without feeling a touch odd for it. Something in the name rings familiar, but she's heard so many names over the years that one more in the pile is nothing.

"Peggy Carter," she introduces herself. "Come on, we'll start in the South."

That name would mean nothing to him even if he had come from a place where it should. There aren't a lot of names that would mean anything to him anyway.

"I'll follow you." She knows this place. Whatever she thinks is best will do.

She nods and gestures for him to follow, still unsure what it means that other people are arriving like this. "What were you doing immediately prior to your being in the fountain?" she asks, wondering if she could somehow establish a pattern in all of this.

He follows her, glancing around to get an idea of where they're going and how to find places again. "I was on my way to stop someone from making a mistake she didn't know she was about to make." Which probably isn't the kind of thing most people spend their time doing.

It does sound rather chivalrous, if a touch vague on the details. In point of fact, she's fairly sure that those exact words could be used to describe herself on any number of occasions when she's not doing something that people like. "Did you manage to stop her?" she wonders. "Or were you abducted prior to that happening?"

She's trying to keep away from asking what this supposed mistake was, unable to help wanting to poke her nose into things.

Emma closes her eyes and if she had Ruby slippers on, she probably would have clicked them together three times if it wasn't so cliche. She totally did not do cliche's.... right?

Wrong...

She ran towards him, and all but threw herself at him, praying he wouldn't let her fall. She grunted softly, as she hit his body full force.

"You're real?"

Of course he won't let her fall. She never has to fall again. He's still dripping wet from the fountain, and he's hugging her so tight that she'll probably end up soaked too. He breaks into a broad smile, which turns into a sort of relieved laugh. "I'm real. So are you." He can't stop himself from kissing her out of relief. "And you're safe. He tricked you, Emma. You would have walked right into a trap." He hasn't yet been introduced to the concept of differing timelines, and doesn't think that she might not know what he's talking about.

The important thing right now is wrapping his arms around her waist while he kisses her again.

Black. Jon couldn't get away from the black, it seemed, and this place had a set number of colors that it provided to them. His clothing was black, as was Ren's, and now this man's was as well. Possibly it meant something but Jon hadn't been able to puzzle that out yet and now, with another new arrival, there wasn't time for it.

The fountain seemed to cough people up in random intervals and this man appeared to have come up a little easier than some. Acclimating quickly would probably be for the best, considering the place seemed deserted and the only ways to eat and live were by hunting.

"Are you all right?" Jon asked as he approached, closing the distance between them with several long strides.

"I didn't make it there." He'd ended up here instead. "All I can hope is that someone else intercepted her and managed to talk her out of it before it resulted in her death." He may never know the answer to that question, unless someone comes here who can answer it for him.

He had been leaning against the lip of the fountain, catching his breath and trying to figure out anything about this place. The latter of which hasn't really worked yet.

He looks over and stands up straight when someone walks over to him. He's dressed in black too, which is something, and his clothes are in same strange style as Killian's own. For whatever that might mean.

"Aye. It's hardly the first time I've come close to drowning." A lifetime at sea will do that.

Those are quite serious stakes, then. She's beginning to wonder if anyone here is from a relatively normal and dull line of work or whether they all have their own high stakes situations. "Let's err on the side of hope, then," she suggests, though she knows little of the background. "Here," she says, gesturing to the first in the row of houses. "They all look like this, more or less. I'd say only eight to ten are actually inhabited."

"Nor I, though I could have done without the reminder of how badly it feels to have water in my lungs," Jon said, smiling tightly. It was something he'd experienced recently enough that he hadn't quite forgotten it yet and he wasn't likely to do so soon.

"Are you harmed or just recovering from that particular method of arrival?" He seemed healthy enough, so far as those things went, but Jon wanted to be certain before taking his leave.

"Hope is all I've had to go on for quite some time. Subsisting on it for the future should be no trouble." If there's no hope left, then what's to keep anyone going on?

"So there aren't many of us here then."

"I appear to have come to no harm." Nothing hurts, at least, other than his lungs, so that must mean something. He does have a hook instead of a hand, but that doesn't seem like a recent development. "It's not the way I would have preferred to arrive in a new place."

"I've lost track, but I've only spoken to about eight or so, yes," she confirms, though by virtue of observation alone, there must have been more as they had all come out of the fountain. "Which may be for the best, though," she adds as they walk. "I'm not entirely sure this place has the resources to sustain a larger community and I'd rather not have to go back to rationing anytime soon."

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