thekittenqueen: (Default)
Mαɾɠαҽɾყ Tყɾҽʅʅ ([personal profile] thekittenqueen) wrote in [community profile] sixthiterationlogs2017-04-04 12:01 am

Gather Ye Roses

WHO: Margaery
WHERE: #4 Bungalow, Woods, the police station
WHEN: 4/3 - 4/4
OPEN TO: All
WARNINGS: Nothing, but will update if needed
STATUS: OPEN



The Woods

The mornings were much the same as ever. With winter slowly coming to a close, it meant that many of the plants and flowers would bloom again, allowing Margaery to gather with the same fervency and delight as before. While her walk through the woods had been to collect kindling and winter fruit, she made a point to stop by many of her favored places to inspect how the plants were faring. Were there buds yet? How far along were they?

It wasn't uncommon to hear noises in the woods. There were others more often about now, many hunters or villagers exploring. When she heard a twig snap behind her, Margaery expected to see a familiar face. Instead, a deer slowly walked from the underbrush, sniffing the ground and listening for potential predators. Margaery rooted herself, hardly daring to move or breathe.

She could sense someone nearing behind her. Taking the risk, she raised her hand, signalling for them to stop. "I have never seen a doe this close before." She whispered.

The Police Station (Outside)

The usual sounds of animals protesting filled the air as Margaery opened the station doors to allow her animals out, her dog Gilbert herding them towards the fields where they could graze. There was still no large pen for her to let them roam about in, much to her chagrin. However, this was better. Gilbert had become diligent in keeping the animals in check, ushering back a sheep that strayed too far or yapping at a cow that lingered too long in the grass. It was pleasant, comforting.

She watched from a reasonable distance, scanning the fields for wolves or any other predators. She counted her animals in her head, tallying the amount she saw ever half hour. Many of the sheep were growing fat, a few pregnant with lambs. She would need to find a place for them all soon.

As someone passed her, Margaery tore her eyes away for a moment to smile at the nearby figure. "It is finally becoming warm again!" She announced happily. "We can begin planting again and think more about what we wish to do with the animals."

#4 Bungalow - Closed to Ned

It was common routine for Margaery to work on her weaving once her animals had finished grazing until the sun could no longer provide her proper light. The cold weather no longer hindered her from sitting on her porch, listening to the sounds of the world around her. She had fond memories of spinning during the summer, now she could weave during the spring. There were birds in the distance, optimistic for the coming warmth. Gilbert was at her feet, worn out from his work and napping as she lightly sang "The Bear and the Maiden Fair."

It was only when she came to the chorus that she noticed Lord Stark nearing her home. They had walked together earlier in the morning, having explored the woods and simply spoken about what he needed to learn. Once they returned to the village, they had parted ways and she had left to let her animals graze. She hadn't paid much mind to what the Starks might be doing, but she assumed they'd be together. Not that it wasn't pleasant to find one Stark or another turning up at her door.

She paused in her work, rubbing her hands on her skirts. "Back so soon?"
3ofswords: (a long stare)

[personal profile] 3ofswords 2017-04-06 06:28 pm (UTC)(link)
"I don't like animals with long eyelashes," he answers dryly, though his thoughts leaned more toward the practical: he wouldn't want to wait on her to play Snow White to pass, domesticating deer seems low on the list of survival paths. "Besides, why would you waste supplies on something that's already feeding itself?"

It didn't take a psychic to notice the way she reeled back her immediate reaction, though, or that it had been anger. Blustering a sigh, he searched for some compromising answer: "Maybe I don't want her to approach someone with a bow expecting a handful of berries," he points out.

Creepy or not, he gave away his own hunting gear long ago, far too squeamish for the task.
3ofswords: (head tilt)

[personal profile] 3ofswords 2017-04-09 05:09 pm (UTC)(link)
He couldn't much argue with that, even if the inclination struck him--how often had he paused at the spring in the southwest, enjoying the oasis of green that had sprung up before spreading out into the rest of the forest? There had been nothing like it in Manhattan, especially in the months before his departure. Even the garden left to rot at the safe house had been a marvel in that long winter.

A deer might have been an appreciated sight, though he can't imagine it wouldn't be gunned down for rations. He'd weathered enough shitty jokes about his ability to make dog taste like chicken to have low expectations.

"Sometimes it doesn't feel like a big enough place, like it would be easy to strip it if there wind up being too many of us." The crops would help with that, and they did lose people sometimes. "I have a couple of books on foraging, but if you already know where things are and want an extra pair of hands, I promise not to throw rocks at the next thing you want to play Snow White with."

3ofswords: (resolute)

[personal profile] 3ofswords 2017-04-11 09:42 pm (UTC)(link)
"I have two, actually, so you're welcome to it." He's read both enough times, on his own and trying to improve Casey's vocabulary, that he could easily part with the pair. "I can get it for you when we're done, or leave it at the inn if that's more convenient."

The way cleared for them both, he stands, and something of her bearing prompts him to extend a hand in offer to help her up through the ferns and short brush they'd been ducked behind. "I'm from a city," he offers in kind, though he wonders if it's worth getting into just what kind, and what time period. "We had a park, but not a lot of gardens or natural land. Everything came from somewhere else." Even most of the people.

"Are you out to do that now, or would you need help with something else?" Practical as he felt the gesture was, he'd still barged in on her little scene and scared her prize away. He had more than enough time to make up for it.
3ofswords: (mild interest)

[personal profile] 3ofswords 2017-04-14 06:44 pm (UTC)(link)
"I wasn't lying." He answers the teasing with chagrin: "I do think they're just weird. I don't like horses either."

By now Kira is familiar enough with the foot-worn paths that he doesn't feel the need to consult his cards for directions back to the village. There are landmarks now, some made by his own hand. Sometimes he finds arrows cut into the bark of trees, when he or perhaps others had cut markers to avoid being lost in the fog.

He doesn't presume to lead, though. Once she's free of the brush, he lets her choose their direction, ready to steer them closer to his home when they find the village again. "It's been nicer," he agrees, now that the fog and rain has left them. "Wouldn't it be better to work in your scrubs," he asks out of curiosity: the dress seems nice enough to save, though for what purpose he isn't sure. They don't exactly have salons or dances in the abandoned buildings.
3ofswords: (mild interest)

[personal profile] 3ofswords 2017-04-18 01:35 am (UTC)(link)
"You seem to keep it in good shape, for what it's worth." He imagines it's a gift from the powers that be, likely some approximation of home to keep them from properly moving on. He wishes he knew more of history, to remember when scrubs came into style, give them some clue to date their captors.

He wonders if they're from so far into the future that even the space-farers of their village came from their past.

Breaking from his thoughts as he pulls back a branch at the treeline, to let her pass onto the path, he says: "I don't think I've gotten your name, in all this time. I'm Kira."
3ofswords: (mild interest)

[personal profile] 3ofswords 2017-04-18 03:31 pm (UTC)(link)
"Do you sew," he asks with some interest, turning them south along the path. Sometimes there were drawbacks to living at the far edge of things, but there was only so much to do in a day but walk, and hope for someone to walk with.

"I have, almost five months now. It took more than a few to get some fresh clothes. I wonder if we could do something with all the leavings and worn out scrubs to make things for the new arrivals," he thinks aloud, wondering if they wouldn't wind up pulling a Scarlet O'hara and making shifts out of the drapes.

Glancing sidelong to her, he's reminded of her basket, laden with her gatherings. He's sure it isn't heavy, and she's more than capable, having carted it around this long, but it seems a thing to offer someone more comfortable walking the woods in skirts over trousers. "Would you like me to carry that? It's a bit further."