sixthiterationlogs | if the sky can crack [OTA mingle]

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if the sky can crack [OTA mingle]

Hail had been falling for two days now, peppering the ground and shredding the grass but rather than melt away like a late spring storm it had only intensified, growing in diameter and moving from a mild annoyance to damned near deadly. As the storm raged, ice flew up through updrafts and was forced back to earth in the downdraft, accumulating layer after layer of murky debris until it went hurtling toward the earth with wicked accuracy.

Shingles were ripped from roofs, the wind howled and lightning cracked. The hail had driven both humans and animals into the safety of the indoors, to the dark corners of buildings that might withstand the assault. With only candlelight and the hushed voices of villagers to stave off fear and boredom, the storm raged like a sentient being heedless of those who might be caught in the path.

After the storm, a calm came over the land and weak sunlight glinted off smoke-tinged ice. Steam rose from the melt and humidity was thick in the air; petrichor hung heavy, a soothing scent after a savage display of natural fury.

[OOC: Your hail mingle post. Feel free to have characters on the run, gathering animals or inside the Town Hall waiting out the storm.]

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"We will have milk and cheese and butter." All of the things that she had been missing. "I have three bulls and three cows including this one. The rest will be impregnated soon, which will allow us to have enough milk for everyone. The goats as well." She didn't want to think about bringing them to slaughter yet. There were still uses for the animals.

"With the village growing, I need more animals to provide wool and milk. There was a time when the village was smaller that I thought of keeping only one cow and one bull, but now I might need more, if we want to have any of these goods." But she would need a barn.

It's not that Amy's really desperately missing all those things, but cheese and butter and milk? Well, breakfast sounds like it's going to get a bit better, soon. "So I don't need to butter you up to get first milk priority?" Amy jokes, because if she does, she might just pointedly remind Margaery about how helpful she's been today.

"Honestly, I'm used to popping around to the shop and picking up something frozen to heat up," she admits. "I never really did much with cooking and unless Rory's been keeping secrets from me, he's not exactly whipping up any masterful dishes."

She grinned in response, "No, I think you earned the first bottle of milk." It would need to be rationed until her other animals got pregnant. Her goat Ellyn Ever Sweet was starting to show symptoms of carrying a baby. It would mean only five months compared to how long her cow, Maris the Maid, had been with child.

"I had a cook and attendants before coming here. I have had learned how to do it all alone." Though there was something rewarding in this. Enough that she didn't begrudge the hard work. "Rory? Is he your brother?"

Amy can't help the smirk, seeing as once upon a time, she'd been quick to insist on that very thing. She'd been very, very young and stupid then, unable to understand just how much Rory meant to her. "He's my husband of ten years," she shares with a fond smile, letting some of that smugness drain away from the amusement.

"I've always wanted an attendant," she admits, "I mean, a maid or something. I'm a bit of a mess when I'm busy, have a tendency to just leave things around the place. Though, once our best friend got us an Ood and that was just...weird," Amy confesses.

There was a glimmer of surprise that registered across her face, amazed at how young Amy seemed, though that was hardly a deterrent. She knew there were others in the village who were in relationships, but very few that had their actual spouses with them. "You're very lucky." Margaery remarked with a soft smile. "The observers brought you both here together."

A part of her envied that luck, even if she didn't want her husbands with her. "I don't know if I have met him. I hope he treats you well." Amy seemed kind, which so rarely was rewarded in the world.

"An...Ood?"

"Not at the same time," she admits, "but where we were, Rory and I were trying to get to the same place at different speeds, too," she says, which is why she still wonders if it's not observers, but rather Weeping Angels that did this. It'd explain the people from different times and spaces, but none of them remember seeing a statue before coming apart from her and Rory.

Still, it's not like they aren't sneaky, why not some memory loss? "Rory's the best man I've ever met," she praises. "Too good for me, most days. I still don't know how I've kept him. The Ood, though, it's sort of..." She gestures to her face, making wiggly fingers. "Squid? Squid on your mouth? Talks through a glowing orb?"

It was a curious thing to say. "It doesn't matter in the end. You are both here together. It may not be the most ideal place to live, but it will be less lonely for you." She envied them that. "Is he safe inside? I hope he is not outside in this storm?"

She looked down at her hands, "How do you reconcile having the person you love but feeling you don't deserve them? At what point do you decide to accept that happiness?" It was something she had been wondering about of late, knowing her own sins and keeping her heart aloof.

"That...sounds bizarre." And horrifying. "It speaks through a glowing orb?"

"It was bizarre," Amy agrees, not arguing on that point. She hadn't really known if the Doctor was having her on when he'd sent the Ood, but the divorce paperwork had consumed her life soon after and she didn't really have time to pay much mind to it. "We fought about it, Rory and I," she admits, her trail of thought leading her to answer Margaery's question (even as she hopes he's safe inside and better not be out playing hero in this storm; that's her job).

"I can't have kids," Amy says, "not anymore. I tried to get a divorce because Rory deserves better than me. He deserves a family and someone who isn't so, so broken." It feels strange to tell this to someone she barely knows, but at the same time, it's years ago now and they're fine. "He wouldn't, he wouldn't sign them, he wouldn't let me go, and I realized that I just had to love him. I couldn't let him go either, not really."

"So I followed him, everywhere. Even here," she says proudly.

She folded Amy's hands between her own, offering comfort through the gentle gesture. The story was a painful one. While she had never had children, there would always be a part of Margaery that wished she had. To be told there was no chance, it had to be heartbreaking. "He has a good heart and truly seems to love you." None of Margaery's husbands would have accepted such a thing, save perhaps for Tommen. Though she doubted Cersei would have allowed him to do so.

"Now you don't have to let him go. You have a second chance here and the opportunity for a better life." It sounded trite, but it was true. For some, that would be enough. Given how deeply Rory and Amy seemed to love each other, they might well think the same thing.

"I envy you that."

"He's the best man I've ever known and I've met some pretty good men," she quips, even though there's the beginnings of tears in her eyes that she's trying to prevent from getting worse. Sometimes, she wonders how on earth Rory put up with her for so long, while she tried to figure out who she was and what she wanted, but she's so glad that he has.

"We were going to start a new life together in New York," she admits, breathing in slowly, "What's weird, now, is now that we have the chance, I'm not sure where I want to start." Kids are off the table, obviously, but that doesn't mean that there's no future for them.

"Perhaps it is better not to plan? At least not here?" It had taken her near a year to discover that, but it was something she was trying to put into place for herself. "New York, the village? You have your new life." She's jealous, if she had to admit it. No matter where they were, Amy had someone she loved with her. She wasn't alone in this.

"Tell me more about Rory? How did you know that you loved him? When did it occur to you?" What was it like to have that moment? Suddenly recognizing that you wanted on specific person? "How did you meet?"

"I can't even remember where we met," Amy admits, seeing as for all of time and space that they've shared together, she doesn't actually remember the first time she'd met Rory. "We were kids growing up in the same small town," she says. "Us and our best friend, Mel," she says, not going into the details about how they accidentally raised their own daughter as they grew up.

"We started dating, but I knew I loved him when I lost him," she says. "That's when I knew that none of it mattered, not without Rory. Lucky for me, that was all one big dream," she says. "I got my second chance." She got plenty more than that, but then, travelling with the Doctor is full of those chances until suddenly you don't get any more. "He's a nurse and so full of caring for the people around him, Handsomest man I know, bravest man too," she says seriously. "Patient and sweet and funny and thoughtful."

"That's certainly beautiful. You were friends for so long and then you discovered you loved each other." It wasn't something that the women in her world could experience. Perhaps the lower classes, but the noble born women had to marry those their fathers told them to. Well, nearly all of them. She had a choice and a measure of control, but not all women shared the same ambitions she did.

"It's clear you love him very much." There was a light in her eyes as she talked about Rory, a warmth that not many had when speaking about their marriages. Whoever he might be, it was clear that he was the finest man in Amy's estimation. "A nurse? I think I have seen him before. He has tended to many of the injured in the village."

"Yeah, Rory just got there first," Amy admits, a touch embarrassed about all those years she thought Rory was gay simply because she'd never seen him interested in another woman, not figuring out that it was because of her. Then, the Doctor had come back and things got so complicated, but they'd worked it out in the end. "He works at the hospital. Too long," Amy complains, "He's going to work himself ragged and he's not plastic," she says, mumbling the 'not anymore' part under her breath.

Wringing a little bit more of the water from her hair, Amy stares around at the animals, still in disbelief that this is her life, now. "I'm just glad I've got him. It's meant to be him and me, together, no matter what."

Perhaps someday she would feel the same way about someone. She had always believed that love was a concept, not an actual feeling. Something that could be affected and put on for seductive means, but nothing more than a mask. There was sincerity in Amy's voice and a genuine gleam in her eyes. There was really no better argument that her assumptions were wrong.

"We should return to the inn before he worries where you are."

"He's always worrying," Amy admits, even though she says it a little like she's proud and pleased about it, seeing as she's always loved being the subject of someone's love and worry and attention, best when it's the people she loves doing it. "You should come by and meet him sometime," she invites, seeing as she likes pushing Rory out there to meet others.

"Is there anyone here worrying about you?" she asks curiously, in the event that they need to be sending out messages to.

"I would like that." She was always fond of meeting the others in the village. So many came and went, often quickly, that she didn't have the opportunity to see them all. There was sometimes someone who was overlooked or missed. She had failed to run into Amy until now, much to her chagrin. "I'm at the inn at lunch, if you both would like to join me next time?" When they weren't in a hail storm.

"There are friends, of course, but I have no family here."

"I'll drag him by the ear to have lunch," Amy promises with a glint in her eye that meant that she might actually mean that literally, depending on how Rory reacted to Amy's demand. Then again, he's been married to her nearly ten years, he ought to know by now that she doesn't take no for an answer.

"I should get back out there, see if anyone else needs help," she says, seriously. "I'm glad you got your animals inside, safely," she adds. "Even if they do smell a bit," she jokes. "Wet hail smell."

"Thank you for your help." She stood, escorting Amy towards the door. "I might have lost one of my animals otherwise. When the storm passes, I should like to see you again. Allow me to weave you a blanket as well, a token of thanks."

She peered outside, seeing no change in the elements. The hail was at least small. If there were injuries, they would be small. "Be careful."

Amy's not really sure she's ever been careful so much as headstrong and stubborn, but she's also not about to go charging out without a plan. "I'd appreciate the blanket, but I'd appreciate it even more if you showed me how to do that," Amy admits, "I missed a few of those pointers when it came to basics." Too busy playing Raggedy Doctor with Rory and Mel, in those days.

"I'll be careful," she promises, even if she's not going to stop going out there to help. "I'll see you later for blanket weaving," she says in parting, taking a deep breath before charging out into the hail, one more time.

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if the sky can crack [OTA mingle]

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