We can push on through till morning; [OTA | MINGLE POST]

[markwatney]

WHO: Mark & Anyone
WHERE: The Town Hall
WHEN: Feb 16, afternoon through evening
OPEN TO: EVERYONE! This is a mingle post!
WARNINGS: N/A - Please warn in thread subject lines if needed
STATUS: Open

---

When we all get together and have our town meetings, the truth is that a lot of times we don't come up with the sort of solutions we're looking for. I'm not trying to say we're complacent -- Or at least not all of us, not the people speaking up in the meetings -- but just that the nature of living here, such as it is, means that answers aren't exactly forthcoming.

But the latest meeting, the one about organizing, creating some kind of formal entity to oversee the group of us, it threw something into sharp relief for me: I've been talking for a long time about how we all need to be sharing our knowledge as a safeguard, but I haven't been doing much to make this happen beyond sharing my own personal knowledge. And that's really just not acceptable -- Not here, not when we've apparently got an entire section of the population asking for active leadership and another section who might just be too shy or apathetic to admit it.

So, I've been trying to figure out a way to kickstart this project. A way for people to even put out there the sort of knowledge they have to share. You have to start somewhere.

I've never had a problem getting people together to help with the field, but somehow we've been neglecting the town hall building right next to it this entire time. It's one of the biggest buildings in town, but it's still coated in dust and cobwebs, piles of leaves drifted into corners. The inn is starting to get a little crowded during meetings; it might be nice to have a little more room, a place where people come to share.

Regardless of how you feel about community leadership, I think most of us can get behind that.

A couple days before, I put out the call: A cleaning party. We get together, clean out the town hall, and afterward we have a little potluck. People can bring premade dishes, or we can cook out back over a bonfire. We can just be around each other, in a relatively safe space, just having a moment to relax and say hello. Meet someone new, find out where to begin.

After everything that's happened recently, I really think we could use it. I'm just hoping I'm not the only one who shows up.

[CLEANING PARTY & MIXER! Threads can take place during the CLEANING portion, after during the MIXER or BOTH. They can be indoors, upstairs, in the attic, out back by the bonfire, chowing down, whatever -- It's 100% cool to improvise! Mark will have expressly told folks this is about getting to know each other and what they can each do, too. There are some additional OOC notes here.]

Comments

Mixer | OTA

[markwatney]

The building is large, but the work is made much easier with plenty of hands to help. The dust was the worst of it, but the weather was forgiving today, so we were able to open up the front and back doors so we didn't all choke on what we stirred up. The attic is probably still a little questionable, but who has a meticulously clean attic?

I made a sort of stew entirely on my own, and it doesn't taste terrible. Stock made from leftover bones -- Smaller fowl mostly -- and veggies I've had tucked away. No potatoes, but some beets and greens and even a few little tomatoes along with basil, and sure, it could use a pinch more salt (as in, any salt at all), but it's hot and decently flavorful. Granted, anything not plain potatoes seems pretty flavorful to me, but my point is, I don't think it's a bad effort.

I've brought over the pot and a stack of bowls from my own kitchen, and now that the room is scrubbed, I settle down on one of the benches to dig in as I scope out who all has showed up.

[windchasing]

Pietro is not here to """mix""". It strikes him as childish somehow, everyone coming together to share food and get to know one another, as if any of them would be so eager to share with their newfound friends the moment food became scarce. He doesn't believe it, and is disinterested in pretending he does.

What he is interested in, however, aside from doing his part to assist in making this building useful again, is sharing knowledge. Harsh as his words had been at the last communal meeting, Pietro did not disagree with what this man had said, about the importance of ensuring everyone had the necessary knowledge to survive. Certainly, there have been times in his life when that sort of knowledge would have made his own survival much less precarious. It's only the idea that he might be allowed access to said knowledge that has him skeptical. He'll believe it when it happens. But he'll try, all the same.

"Watney, yes?" he starts, a lanky youth approaching from along the wall. "You are the farmer?"

Cleaning | OTA

[king_in_the_north]

To suggest that Robb hadn't been the most social creature since his arrival would be a severe understatement. The twisting fear that had prevented him remained, a hard knot in his stomach that never fully relaxed, but in recent weeks it had at least ebbed somewhat -- Enough to make him feel something approaching his normal self, at least.

And let no one ever say that he'd failed to lend a hand regardless.

Currently, he was in one of the smaller rooms off of the main hall, one that must have been used for a study or perhaps storage for whomever it was that lived in this place before. He'd opened a window to dispel some of the dust and was perched atop a chair, attempting to remove a stubborn panel of drapery from its rod so that it could be aired out outside.

When it let go, it was abrupt and unexpected, the fabric snapping down to cover Robb's entire head as a voluminous cloud of dust puffed out and then settled around him.

"Seven hells," he muttered from beneath the heavy folds, and coughed.

Re: Cleaning | OTA

[rangerbecket]

"Is there something more extreme about there being seven of them rather than just the one?"

Raleigh hasn't really picked up on all the idioms of Westeros and, honestly, Sansa isn't one to curse anyway. She's too ladylike for that. Still, he kind of likes the flavor of 'seven hells' and thinks he might use it sometime just to mix things up. It's probably going to come in handy the next time he scales a cliff and falls.

"It is a ton of dust, though. I bet nobody's been in here for years."

[3ofswords]

Raleigh hadn't been kidding about the abandoned state of the place when the first group arrived, some of the signs lingering more than half a year later. Worsening, probably, the dry air settling all the more dust over the hall. It was strange to think about who might have built the structures--the people in charge, the first captives, or were they one and the same?

The gift box still has him shaken, wondering if there are people like Jean and himself among them, if that's how they always seem to know. There's a finger of paranoia that runs its nail up and down his back: this could be some kind of proving ground.

It curls into its favorite subject: what are they going to want from Credence?

But Credence is why he's here, trying to take his mind off it all and get back to being useful. The boy had told him to get up and away from his bedside for a bit, clear his head, bring him news about what happens tonight. He'd also realized, standing in the dusty space, that there might be clues to hunt in the old buildings. It's how he finds himself in one of the smaller rooms with who he assumes is a stranger, coughing and--he assumes that's a curse--from under some truly unfortunate drapery.

"I always heard there were nine," he says, as close to himself as he's sounded in days. Finding an edge with his hands, he tugs sharply--it frees the man, but it also drags him into Kira in the dim space, sending them both stumbling and tripping on each other's ankles in a new cloud of dust.

[kestreldawn]

Seeing as Jyn didn't know many in the village outside of those she'd known from her previous life (as well as the few who'd come to her aid upon her arrival), she didn't know exactly where she was needed in the clean-up. All she knew was that she wanted to help, somehow. Keep herself busy, immerse herself a bit more in the community in a - safe and sterile sort of way.

It also gave her a chance to start to scope out the other villagers, begin placing them into categories based on their skills. She knew where she was lacking and that she might find a counterpart to make up for those lacking abilities in someone else.

So she'd wandered about, looking for an area most needing her assistance. She walks into the room where Robb is, precisely as she sees it about to snap off the wall.

"Watch out! It's -" but it's too late; the thing has gone flying off the wall and onto the poor suspecting man underneath. She rushes over, careful to peel the heavy fabric away from him. He's caked in a grey film now, and Jyn sneezes as soon as the dust hits her nose. Once, then twice, then a third. "You all right?"

[chosenbytheocean]

Moana was focusing her efforts on the rafters and towards the ceiling of the building. She was very good at climbing and found it easy to position herself where she could wipe away the dust and cobwebs. She had taken off her shoes and was balanced with her feet flat against the wall when she heard the voice coming from one of the smaller rooms.

Her head turned down and she dropped to the floor making a loud thud as she poked her head into the room.

"Hello? You okay in here-" Her voice cuts off and she coughs at the dust that clouds the air. "What are you doing wearing that?" Moana was trying not to laugh as she helped pull the heavy fabric from his head. When she pulled it off his head she was still smiling. "I think there is an easier way if you're going to wear it."

Cleaning and Mixer | OTA

[thekittenqueen]

Finally allowed out of the house and recovered, Margaery had made a mad dash towards Town Hall, intent on helping with the efforts to clean. She had learned from her time alone how to pick up after herself and turn a room spotless, though it had been a difficult journey from pampered lady to now. She could at least sweep and scrub and do a rather pleasing job of it, much without complaint.

Once finished, she wandered about the room, deliriously pleased to be around activity once more. The sounds of people talking and laughing was a sweeter music than any minstrel could offer. She preferred to avoid the conversations about an actual leader in the village, uncertain how she felt about such things and not interested in discussing politics for once.

She wanted to enjoy her day out and to spend time among her friends. She circled the room, only to stop in her tracks as she bumped into someone. Even in Town Hall, it could still get a bit crowded.

"Pardon me." She smiled.

Re: Cleaning and Mixer | OTA

[tooktheblack]

"Pardoned," Jon said, stepping back just a bit when Margaery ran into him. She was light on her feet, even if she didn't intend to step on him, and it was hardly painful.

He hadn't talked to her in weeks. While he still didn't trust her political motives, necessarily, he didn't think she had much of the way of leverage in this place and it wouldn't harm him any to be polite to her. She had done the same and more for him.

"Have you been well? It's not often a lady busies herself with the work of servants."

Re: Cleaning and Mixer | OTA

[rangerbecket]

Raleigh doesn't know Margaery aside from recognizing her face and knowing she's one of Sansa's friends. Considering how close he and Sansa are now, he thinks that warrants getting to know her a little better and he tosses her a quick wave before drawing up close to say hello.

"Uh, hi. You're Margaery, right?"

Cleaning

[71st_victor]

Johanna's trying not to look suspicious, but she has the feeling that her determined evaluation of the area as she tries to clean and look for any signs that someone from the districts or the Capitol has already been here. Nothing adds up, which is pretty much what she'd expect, but the problem is that there's a lot going on that she can't just discount so easily.

The boundaries, the gifts, the strangeness of this place. It's all too much like an arena and she's been in two of them during her lifetime. The last one hadn't exactly been a graceful departure for her and the lightning is way too close to what Katniss had done to pull down the whole arena the moment before Johanna had shown up in another watery pod.

Now, she's just focused on inspecting the floorboards, cleaning them as she goes and hauling whatever pieces of crap she can to take for traps in her own home, trying to find some evidence or proof or records and finding none. By the end, her frustration is running high and she's sweating badly, despite the cold outside. "Didn't anyone think to bring some drinks?" she demands critically.

[fishermansweater]

Fortunately, Finnick isn't going to think any worse of her for the fact that Johanna is checking the floorboards for evidence of surveillance. In fact, he's been doing something fairly similar himself, hands pressed flat against the walls, a cloth in one hand ostensibly for wiping off the dust and spiderwebs. His head, though, is held close to the wall, and he's looking up along the surface of the wall, up into the corners.

He, too, is finding no evidence of bugs, or at least electronic ones. There's plenty of evidence of insectoid ones, and Finnick also checks carefully for those before he clears away the webs.

He glances back over his shoulder when he hears Johanna's complaint.

"Guess you'll have to tell the Gamemakers you're not a fan of the catering."

Or whatever they are. But Gamemakers is a convenient shorthand, and the one that has the most context for them. Finnick, too, would be pleased for something to drink.

"Don't know about anyone else. Might be something with the food."

He's not convinced; he's fairly sure that the supply of not-water-drinks is fairly low so long after they'd gotten the gifts.

Annie - OTA

[jetsetting]

[CLEANING UP:]

Something that Annie was familiar with was cleaning and repair; during her time in South Ossetia, she'd managed to work with the group that had repaired the Opera House and spent time with the homeless and orphans. This was something that let her feel like she was getting back to the roots she'd cultivated before joining the Agency.

As someone passed by, she dusted her hands off on her scrubs and flashed a smile. "Hey. Anything else I can do?"



[MIXER:]

It wasn't possible for Annie to cook - she had no skill at all in that area - but she didn't want to disappear as soon as she was done helping out, either. It didn't seem fair to eat what others had brought if she hadn't brought anything, so she took a bite of something here and there, but mostly stayed away from the food, instead choosing to stick to the wall for the beginning part of the mixer and greet anyone who passed by her.

"It's nice to see you (or meet you)," she'd say, and introduce herself if necessary.

Mixer

[notabirdcostume]

There was something kind of nice about ending a hard day's work with a party. Sometimes Sam was still surprised that they had the morale around here to party after everything that had been going on, but it was a good sign nevertheless that they could. Sam had decided to splurge for the occasion and had done his very best to put together some mini pancakes. The mix had technically been a gift from him, to Natasha during that weird Christmas haul, but now that she was gone he didn't want to see the package go to waste. He might now have been able to make them for her, but he was certainly going to try to make something nice for everyone else.

That being said, he had decided to make small talk with the help of food and when he noticed Annie drifting past the table of food without grabbing anything, Sam held out the platter, "Here. Try one of these."

Re: Annie - OTA

[almightythor]

"I think it looks good for now," Thor said. He'd worked alongside her to help clear away some of the dust and debris inside the room and now that they'd been working with the others for a while now, it had started to resemble a proper town hall again.

"Who would have imagined a Prince of Asgard scrubbing a floor? Not me."

Mixer

[scepterschild]

There was one other person sticking to the wall, watching as others mingled. Wanda hadn't brought anything so she didn't eat. She was still getting used to this place and it's limits on her abilities. It wasn't sitting well with her and she was a little irritable about it.

Her head turned when she heard the voice and she'd nod her head in greeting.

"You to. I'm Wanda." There was a pause before Wanda decided to ask Annie what was on her mind. "How long have you been here?" She meant in this world. There was still a lot that she didn't know.

Jyn - OTA!

[kestreldawn]

// CLEANING //

Jyn hasn't spent a great deal of time interacting with the other villagers. It isn't that she's necessarily against it, but socialization was always done in the context of war with the express purpose of sharing commands, skills, tactics, plans. Groups were created for briefings, assaults. Not for friends. So she'd debated whether or not to go to the Town Hall, knowing the majority of the people in the town would be there - and that it would force her to communicate with them.

Still, she figured, she might as well be useful - if this place was going to be her home for the foreseeable future, there's no reason not to be a bit more involved in its upkeep and general maintenance. It'd be wrong to leave it to fall on the shoulders of the others alone.

She'd told Cassian, prior to leaving their cabin, that she was heading towards the Town Hall to assist in the clean up. He'd agree to meet her later on, and she'd begun to make her way to the building. She is still learning the layout, and she takes a bit of a roundabout route to get there, but she arrives all the same.

Jyn slips in the front door, eyes darting and observing the scene. She figures she'll get a layout of what or who needs the most work and proceed from there.

// MIXER //

The mere thought of forced socialization makes Jyn want to scream, but she feels as though it might be the most useful way to meet the others - get to know them, their strengths, their skills. She isn't thinking in terms of friends, she's thinking in terms of usefulness. In terms of allies and mutually beneficial exchange of skills, goods. You can take the girl away from the battlefield ..

She forces herself to attend the gathering after the clean-up, despite everything inside of her aching to return home - away from everything and everyone (other than Cassian, naturally). She lingers mostly on the outer ring, closest to the wall, circling the commotion in the middle. It's a bit like a creature, scoping out its prey, but she has no intention of attacking - and her casual, non-committal gait and posture are proof enough. She clutches onto a cup of some kind of fruity liquid in her hand, the other shoved deep into her pocket.

// MIXER //

[powerunleashed]

Jean tended to keep to herself these days too. She had been the closest to Ren, who was gone now, and the death still shook her. Sure, she'd seen death before. She'd seen death on a wide scale in Egypt, even, but this was something different. This was someone she knew and well.

Still, she forced herself out to meet new people. Moana was still here, after all, and there were other people who were more or less friendly. Nobody had attacked her for being a mutant. It was going to be okay.

She was lost in all those thoughts when she accidentally ran into the dark haired woman and when she did, she dropped her cup; Jean carefully caught it before it hit the ground and guided it back to her hand. It was a parlor trick compared to what she used to be able to do but she would take it.

"Ugh, sorry. I wasn't watching where I was going."

Cleaning & Mixer | OTA

[notabirdcostume]

I. Cleaning - Beware of Spiders
Sam was actually surprised they hadn't gotten around to dealing with this building much. They were often so focused on the surrounding woods that it seemed this building had gotten completely overlooked in terms of putting it to use. Sam liked Mark's idea though and had been eager to start getting something together. It gave him something to do, another purpose, and he'd been dying to have one of those ever since winter had set in.

At the moment, Sam was taking a rag to some windows on the upper floors. They were pretty grimy and Sam was determined to get them clean. He noticed a large web in the upper corner of one window and went to smack it with his rag. Unfortunately in doing so he must have disturbed the creator of it because a large, house spider dropped down, bounced off the rag, and came dangerously close to Sam's face.

Sam did the manly thing and screamed.

II. Mixer - Much Later

Sam had survived spiders and cleaning and he was exhausted. Now that things were clean though he could relax outside by the bonfire, watching the flames jump up as they grilled some fish over the open flames. It was like camping, he supposed, not exactly something he'd enjoyed back home but there were worse ways to spend an evening. He took a sip from his wine, lost in thought until someone might come and talk to him.

I. Cleaning [ILU]

[candor1]

Cassian and Jyn had deliberately left separately. They both thought it was a good idea to attend, knew they'd been letting themselves get far too insular, ignoring their surroundings and fellow inhabitants. (…as little interest as either currently had in anything but each other… that was no way to insure security. Being able to keep… each other.) So they should both attend. But they should also do so as independent agents. Possibly even avoid one another. This fear of the other vanishing as miraculously as they'd arrived was becoming debilitating… especially since there would be nothing either could do about it regardless. The precept again: if you dread the amphora's destruction you don't appreciate it while it's whole. No point ruining their togetherness by worrying about something they couldn't control. …Especially if by that fear they were abdicating any possible level of effect.

So, while they were agreed to meet up eventually, if Cassian had seen Jyn immediately on arrival, he'd headed elsewhere; in this case, upstairs.

He had just entered the room when he heard the scream.

On instant autopilot, Cassian sprinted forward and backhanded the threat away from its intended target.

His combat impulses dissipated when he realized the projectile in question hadn't reacted to the impact the way it should. He looked down with interest to see the spider now crawling on the back of his hand.

It's not that an unknown organism, with clear defensive adaptations, doesn't unsettle him. It's that the strategic brain has taken over and is reminding him that further sudden motions make getting bitten more likely; keep movements fluid and slow and get rid of it.

Still without letting any of this quite catch up to him, Cassian crossed over to the window, opened it with his free hand, and laid his other hand out on the roof until the spider crawled off of it.

He watches it go, in a bit of a fog, apparently not remembering the man to whose "rescue" he'd leapt.

Cleaning and Mixer: OTA

[onlyeverdoubted]

Cleaning

At first he's glad to have this. Activity, just active enough to require him to pay attention to what he's doing. He's very sure that the worst thing he could do would be taking time alone to rest. He's no stranger to scut work, though, and he gets used to it fast, giving his mind room to wander freely. This is so bizarre and inefficient, humans managing things like this without droids or decent tools. He descends into cranky in short order. Focusing aggressively on how inconvenient the tasks are is better than letting his mind go wandering into unsafe memories, anyway.

But complaining during work detail is a piece of one of the safer things in his old life, the quiet bonding of academy students over shared gripes. He'll share a snarky observation with any passerby. "Breathing seems overrated, right?" or "This is just the perfect use of three pounds of brain," or, having inevitably knocked something over (because he was clumsy before he got snippy, and it doesn't help), "Well, gravity and I are having a wonderful day."

Mixer

He's a little uncomfortable. Parties, as such, are not his kind of event. But he doesn't have the option of a quiet dinner and drinks with fellow academy graduates, and he should be out and doing things if he possibly can. He feels a little lacking turning up, too new to have anything to bring but himself, but he can't think of a way around that. He just has to hope he's not being too egregiously out of line, and he did clean things all day. That might count.

He settles near the bonfire, uncertain about how to approach the strangest strangers he can imagine, people apparently from different worlds. None of his usual conversational openers seem like they'll function, and he hates working without a script. He can't come up with anything to try but, "Hello, I'm new."

Re: Cleaning and Mixer: OTA

[almightythor]

Thor had never truly met a stranger. He had always been gregarious nearly to a fault, loyal and trusting even when he shouldn't be. Since coming to the village, he'd found himself crippled by the lack of his powers but this element, this core being, that had never changed.

"New? Well met, then. I am Thor, son of Odin," he introduced, offering the man a hand to shake if he so desired.

Cleaning and After, OTA

[pretendtoneedme]

Cleaning

Cleaning stuff up and throwing it out isn't any big switch to Clint. He's always been better at working with his hands than doing anything like conjugating Spanish verbs or listing off historical dates, a trait that's continued into his adulthood with his constant "projects" on the farmhouse. Having worked construction for a couple of years before S.H.I.E.L.D. means he's used to heavy labor, and he's taken the precaution of wrapping a couple layers of old rags around his palms in lieu of work gloves to prevent any splinters or cuts or anything that would impair the use of his hands. Having claimed everything Nat had left behind when she vanished (best friend's prerogative), he's also brought the tool kit he'd found in her belongings and the combo axe/saw for any major jobs needed and has taken over the job of testing any furniture in the place to see if it's still usable, or will be with a little repair work, or if it's destined for the scrap pile and a future as kindling or pieces for much smaller projects. The biggest impediment he's facing right now is a lack of fasteners - screws, nails, or glue. He's almost certain screws are out of the question here, but nails should be able to be scavenged from one of the destroyed houses. Something else to put on his mental list of projects.

The list is as much for the sake of distraction as anything, because one key reason he works with his hands so much is that it's easier for him to think when he's doing something, and by now he's done so much home repair that it's almost as though he can do it on autopilot. And right now that's actually a bad thing, because it keeps bringing up thoughts of the last time he'd done something like this - cleaning out the barn after Nate had been born, with the help of his two older kids and wife. It's been over a month since he left the farm to go help Cap and that absence is really starting to ache. Normally he'd go find another task to keep his mind off missing them, but this is what he's good at and so he sticks with it, knowing that if everyone does their best it'll be finished and the building useful a lot more quickly. But the thoughts and memories aren't going away, and he's less on guard than usual.


Mixering

Clint hasn't actually cooked for the giant party - taking food at the inn, he hasn't quite got the hang of dealing with less than a modern kitchen yet - but he has contributed something in the form of a couple of rabbits and squirrels he'd shot when he'd borrowed one of the bows from the inn's stock. He'd been hesitant about using one for a long time because he is very possessive of his weapons and doesn't like other people touching them, and for the most part that seems to be consistent across a lot of agents, but his fingers had been itching to shoot something for awhile and so he'd finally done it. It's not likely he'll do it often in the future, since the bow felt very awkward in his hands even after several practice shots and the draw weight was far below what he was used to, but at least he'd contributed to the party.

After a quick splash on his face and hands in the inn's bathroom to get rid of the worst of the dust, dirt, and general mess, Clint's back at the party to mingle and see about talking to some people. He forgoes the scant amount of alcohol on offer and sticks to water, moving around with the ebb and flow of the group and listening to what conversations he could so he could continue making mental profiles on the people trapped here with him and his teammates.

Re: Cleaning and After, OTA

[powerunleashed]

Jean wasn't exactly the kind of person to volunteer to do labor but it kind of came with the territory in this place. She had to swallow her pride and get it done, whether she wanted to or not, and after spending an hour or so clearing up trash and dusting things, she felt sort of accomplished.

The guy next to her looked a lot more equipped to handle life out here, judging by both the muscles and the apparent tool prowess and she drew up close, watching as he worked. "You look like you've got this but do you want any help?"

Cleaning & Mixer - OTA! (now with less fail oops)

[ottimismo]

Cleaning

There will never be a time that Sonny willingly passes up the chance to help out their community in any way, especially when it involves working with other people. He doesn't do well by himself for too long, nor does he do well with staying idle for any length of time. He needs to be around people, doing something, making progress, staying busy. Anything to keep from thinking too hard about their situation.

So when Mark puts a call out for a cleaning party, and a potluck afterwards, Sonny's quick to jump on it. It gives him something to do, something that's useful, and people to work with and chat with, to boot.

Everything's already in full swing when he gets there, and he readily volunteers for whatever needs to be done: "Anybody got a broom or a duster or something they wanna share, I'm ready to work."

Mixer

After a long day of work, there's nothing better than sitting down with some good food and good people. This is something that Sonny's very accustomed to, coming from a large Italian family. Any reason to celebrate was celebrated to the fullest extent, and that meant family gathering from all of New York's boroughs, and some coming from New Jersey. It was loud, it was lively, the adults were drunk, and more often than not, the kids managed to steal a few drinks, too, ending up pink in the cheeks and giggling by the end of the night.

This, of course, isn't quite like that. His sisters aren't here to try to shove glasses of wine into his hands, and his cousins aren't here to ruffle his hair and call him kid, despite the fact that he's thirty years old now, thank you. Still, he comes up with some seasoned vegetables as a side dish, wishing not for the first time that he had his kitchen from back home to work in.

He chooses to drink water instead of what little alcohol is offered, sitting down to eat before getting right back up to mingle, drifting between groups and people to chat and celebrate their job well done.

Mixing?

[pretendtoneedme]

Clint's been trying to branch out a bit in the village, talking to people about what they knew, what they were good at, where they came from - he was no longer surprised by time discrepancies after Peggy, at least. You never knew when you would need a skill or knowledge and not know where to find it since they didn't exactly have computers on call. The list begun at the meeting at the start of the month is good, but it doesn't help if you don't know what the person you're looking for looks like.

He noticed Sonny at the meeting but there'd been so much to discuss at the time that he hadn't been able to talk to everyone, but the younger man had seemed pulled together and competent, so that meant Clint had a decent reason to strike up a conversation. He's wandering around with his own cup of water when he spots Sonny between conversations - no better time like the present, then. "Feeling pretty good about all this?"

Moana ~ OTA

[chosenbytheocean]

[ CLEANING ]

Moana was happy to clean and to help out where she could. She was 100% recovered from her fight with a ball of lightning. The lightning scar was still there, trailing like wild fire down her shoulder and over part of her back. It didn't bother her and no one asked about it, despite how often she wore tank tops. She was wearing her navy blue scrubs though part way through cleaning she took over her over shirt and tied it around her thin waist. She tied her hair on top of her head, using one of the threads of stretchy material from a sock she'd been given. She didn't like her shoes and so she kicked them off and left them off.

She spent most of the time cleaning up in the attic or in the rafters. Moana was a very good climber and she'd scale some of the beams to get to the higher positions in the hall. She liked climbing and it didn't bother her, plus she generally went unnoticed by those passing beneath her.

Moana had a cloth tucked in her waist band though it might accidentally drop on your head.

[ MIXER ]

She didn't have all that much that she could bring to the mixer but Moana wanted to contribute. After a lot of thought Moana had caught a half dozen fish and set them on pikes near the fire. She didn't season them much but she cooked them the way she remembered doing so at home.

Moana was more comfortable around the open flame than she was inside.

She'd occasionally check on the fish, flashing a smile at anyone who was also standing by the bonfire. When they were done she'd offer those standing around her a fish. She still wasn't wearing her shoes but she was standing next to the fire so it was fine.

hooray

[kestreldawn]

Jyn's wandering, attempting to find the location best suited for her - most needing her assistance. She's not exactly an expert cleaner, mostly due to the fact that she's never really had anything to clean. She'd had her quarters on Yavin IV, her prison cell on Wobani, quarters on Onderon, etc. etc. but she'd never really had enough of anything to organize, dust, what have you. She gets the basic concept of the act, though, but she also feels like it's not something to simply jump right into. Like she needs to be invited to partake in the festivities.

It's when she's paused, thinking where to check next, that a cloth descends down and lands on her head. She reacts quickly (overreacts, probably), snatching it from her head, assuming a more defensive stance as she gazes upwards to whatever might have tried to blindfold her.

She sees the woman she'd helped, by the fountain - and she lets out a bark of a laugh at the sight of her.

"Moana, was it? It seems you've healed up rather nicely."

Wanda Maximoff - OTA

[scepterschild]

[ CLEANING ]

Wanda didn't have a reason to hide her abilities. She's used her powers before and this time she knew that it wouldn't end with explosions or the twelve o'clock news. She stepped through the town hall, lifting and moving things with the familiar red mist that stretched from her palms. Her abilities were significantly weaker than she was used too but she was determined to find their limits and improve them if she could. As troubling as her abilities could be, they were a part of her and she didn't want to change them.

Her movements were fluid and well trained as she lifted some of the debris from the floor. She moved anything broken to one side of the room and everything that was solid to another pile.

She didn't know who was organizing this gathering, she was still new but she'd help where peopled needed her; moving things with her mind.

[ Mixer ]

Wanda found a nice place next to the wall where she watched those mingling around her. She didn't dislike talking to others but she hadn't brought food and didn't feel right about eating what others had brought.

She also didn't know what to say to people. She was new and didn't know very much about the structure of those here. She knew what Thor and Clint had told her but that was only pieces of a puzzle. Wanda would get lost in her thoughts and it was only when someone stepped close to her that she'd refocus on the gathering.

"Can I help you?" Her accent was thick and her tone was tense.

Draco Malfoy -- Mixer -- OTA

[putorius]

1. Bathroom botherings
Socialization was not something Draco was interested in, far from it. If he wanted that he would have stayed around the inn for more than skulking in to get a bit of food and slinking back out as soon as he was done. He still refused to live as everyone else did here, accepting that there was no way out. His dedication was lessening, he wasn't going out for nearly as long every day. A strange sort of melancholy had taken the place of the constant switch between exhaustion and panic. He was sleeping more, but he still felt tired.

He'd missed the announcements, the plans, the invitations. He just noticed people gathering. He didn't stray far, only taking advantage of the inn being quieter to take a nap near the fire, when he heard the sounds of hard work happening inside. He wanted no part of that. But when he returned to find out what the fuss was about, he caught the unmistakable smell of food. Better food than the meager things he'd been having. The mouth watering scent of fire roasted meats.

Slipping inside, his first stop was in the bathroom. He was keeping as clean as he could, but he'd yet to claim a place of his own and that made it rather difficult. As did things like a lack of hygiene products, or a razor. His white blonde hair made the shadow of stubble barely even visible, but it still added a particular texture to his face. He was covered in scratches and bruises, faintly limping from mild injuries. His hair had long since lost its softness and shine, now slightly wavy from lack of care. His clothes were showing signs of his excursions. His red scrub pants were tattered at the bottoms, with a permanent stain of dirt along the hem, one leg with a ragged tear at the knee. His wool coat he'd managed to maintain some semblance of clean, meticulously scrubbing dirt from it every night it was needed. In the bathroom, he splashed water on his face, as if he could scrub a bit more of it all from his skin. But all he could do was run his damp fingers though his hair and try to put it back into some semblance of order. He spent far too long in there, most of it spent hunched over the sink, hands pressed to the porcelain, struggling to just hold himself together.

2. Not Here to Mingle
Striding in among the gathered people, he had no intent on actually mingling with anyone. He passed through them, head held high, as if he not only had every right to be there, but was some sort of honored guest. He was there for one thing and one thing only: the food. He did take a brief look outside, where the best aromas seemed to be coming from, but those gathered around the fire pit seemed a bit too cozy for his liking, so he opted for whatever food was inside. Anyone who looked like they might question his being there, though he'd not helped in the efforts before, would receive the most withering, disdainful look he could muster.

2

[teen_angst_bullshit]

There aren't many people left inside, and it's not that difficult to understand why. For months they've been socked in with ridiculous snow, and even with the skies looming with electric threat, the lure of a clear night, a warm fire and company is a potent one. The idea of taking part, though, twists Veronica's stomach up into a hard little knot -- If she has to be polite or smile or make small talk, she thinks she might cry or hurl or throw something. There's definitely a part of her, small but significant, that would kind of like to grab a flaming branch and burn the whole damned place to the ground.

So it's better that she's inside.

Bowl of stew in hand, she's perched on a chair, one foot pulled up and braced on the seat edge, oversized black sweater sliding off one shoulder to show the straps of her denim overalls beneath. She's not unaware of the shadows smudged beneath her own eyes, and she stares at this guy, this kid, a long moment.

"You look like shit," she calmly observes, and lifts another spoonful to her mouth.

mixer & upstairs | OTA

[dnr]

mixer;

To anyone who's arrived in the past few months, Frank Castle might well be a stranger. Hell, even to those who did know him, he may as well be now. His face is weathered, haggard in a way it wasn't before the wendigo attacks, half hidden now between a bushy beard and a mess of floppy hair beneath his hat. It's been months since that face has seen the light of day in the village. But maybe if you'd kept a sharp eye on the woods, you might have gotten a glimpse of him. If you knew what to look for, you might have noticed the signs of temporary habitation. Of well-tended traps. Or if you'd eaten at the inn lately, you might even have had some of the game he'd kept bringing around back for Miss Kelly, difficult as it had become to keep to the shadows with the auroras lighting everything up bright as day. Keeping people fed is higher on his list of priorities than keeping out of sight, if only just.

Not today, though. He didn't bring food. He doesn't show up in time to help clean. But he does show up, slipping in the back with a fair amount of stealth for someone his size. He's not going out of his way to keep hidden, but he’s not draw attention to himself, either.

What he is doing is watching. Mostly the new faces, filling in the details of folks he only knows by the color of their hair or the angle of their gait, fuzzy shapes he’s only stalked from a distance. If he's here, he's going to make use of his time.

He doesn't bother to hide it. He just watches, brings his cup to his lips and takes a sip. Drops his eyes to the cup. Wrinkles his nose. Looks up again. Takes another sip anyway. He’s had worse.

upstairs;

Stillness doesn’t last long. Once he’s got a handle on the room, once he’s seen what he came out here to see, his thoughts turn to other get-togethers, other shared meals, sitting in here where it’s warm while somebody’s insides get cold out in the snow.

Frank pushes off from the wall, heading upstairs to scope out the rest of the building. He knows every other inch of this village, why not this one? Room by room, he walks through, dragging two fingers along the wall with a soft scrape-thump like he’s memorizing it. A door here, a closet there. A window.

At the end of the hall, one window opens onto the flatter side of a gable. Not a bad vantage point. Frank glances both ways, then hefts it open and climbs out onto the roof. Back out into the chill. That’s better.

upstairs

[thecatinahat]

Cougar had seen the speck on the roof from the distance. Even without his binoculars or the scope, he would have seen it, but now he has those tools at his disposal. It's been some time since he'd seen Frank, which means little to someone like Cougar, who's had habits of vanishing for days at a time when things get rough or he can't think of how to interact with other people. He also knows that when he's done with those gaps in socializing, he needs to come back and have someone on the team help him get back to normal life.

As he climbs up the house on the outside, hauling himself up with a lithe, speedy grace, he lands on the roof and sits himself down next to Frank without a word. Maybe he's not the best person, but still, he understands. He gestures out to the view, wordlessly asking with a raise of his brow whether there's anything interesting there, all the while settling his hat a little firmer on his head.