Sixth Iteration Logs

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WHERE: (Where the post takes place)
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putorius

WHO: Draco Malfoy
WHERE: The fountain and immediate area
WHEN: Afternoon of Feb 8
OPEN TO: Anyone and everyone
WARNINGS: Panic, mentions of torture, murder
STATUS: Open

The only sound is the battle cry

When the mind wakes to confusion and panic, it grasps at straws to fill the gaps. For a moment, Draco thought he was back in the bathroom. That he'd blacked out and now the place had flooded and he was still dying. He'd imagined the wounds healing, imagined being taken out. Myrtle was in a fit, Harry and wrecked everything, and it was over. In those moments of trashing panic, his mind finally managed to grasp perspective. Some sense of reality. He was drowning, yes, but it was far too deep for a flooded bathroom. He could see the surface, daylight. Not thinking even of magic, he just kicked as hard as he could, reaching for the light, his lungs burning.

Still confused and lost, he burst through the surface, spluttering and coughing. He didn't so much as climb out of the fountain, as tumble. Off balance from the unexpected weight of the backpack, he threw himself over the lip, falling in an ungraceful heap on the ground. Pressing his back to the fountain itself, he tried to catch his breath, shoving a mess of pale, damp hair out of his eyes, dragging in deep, desperate breaths. Nothing looked familiar. No point of reference. Nothing felt right. His mind spun, unable to grasp anything specific.

With each passing moment, with each deep breath, his head seemed to finally settle. The sharpest edges of panic slid away, allowing him at least a little clarity. His hand went right for his wand, where he always kept it, and closed around nothing but air. He patted his pockets, his pants, before finally looking down. Where were his robes? His suit? His uniform? He grabbed a handful of the red material of his shirt, dragging it away from his chest with a surge of disgust and terror. The color, design, material. It was all so unlike anything he'd ever worn that it was alarming enough on its own.

But his wand! He continued is search, hands frantically checking every part of his clothes. Sweeping the ground around him. The he twisted around, hands on the edge of the fountain, as if prepared to dive back in for it. He stopped, taking in just what he'd come out of, and a strange dread dragged at his stomach. From the depth which he'd come, how could that have fit inside a mere fountain? But peering down into it, he could only see the inky darkness of deep water.

Deciding diving back in was best left for an absolutely last resort, he shrugged off his backpack. Even the bag was wrong, nothing like what he would have had at school. It looked like what some of the muggle-born kids brought with them. He didn't have time to worry about that. He opened it and started emptying the contents onto the ground. Finally, he upended the bag and shook it, but nothing more fell out. He swiped his hand around inside, feeling for anything he may have possible missed.

"Where the bloody hell is it?!" He cried out loud, flinging the bag away from him.

solus_unus

WHO: Caius Vitale
WHERE: From the fountain to the Inn and then around the Village from there.
WHEN: 02.02
OPEN TO: All
WARNINGS: Possible mention of Highlander type death prior to arriving
STATUS: Open

[Arrival > Inn]

It wasn't exactly a frightening experience surfacing in the fountain and realising he wasn't dead, or even in Ireland, for that matter. He wasn't back in the City either, so for a short few seconds to blink the water out of his vivid blue eyes, Caius glanced around. Needless to say, he knew well enough he wasn't there.

So where the hell was he? There was a pack on his back, and the scrubs weren't anything he could understand.

As he climbed out, something scraped against his forearm, leaving a deep enough gouge to bleed pretty badly, made only temporarily better when the water rushed off him. Immediately, the cooler temperature set into his bones and by the time he reached the Inn, he was trembling.

[Around the Village - Evening]

After finding out that the multiverse snagged him again, it was time to do some exploring. The whole situation was oddly familiar in that each time he took on a new identity and landed in the place where he'd live for the next decade, he did the same thing. So off he went to learn as much as he could. Create a mental map, if so to speak. Like the City, there wasn't much in the way of getting answers.

Until answers did become available, Caius looked up after the sun went down and marveled at something the City didn't have. Stopped right in the middle of a pathway, he stared up at sky while lightening danced amidst an aurora of blueish green ribbons of lights.

It was breathtaking.

beallmysins

WHO: Jax Teller
WHERE: fountain; village
WHEN: 1 February
OPEN TO: All
WARNINGS: language
STATUS: open

I. THE CROW FLIES STRAIGHT

Water. Everything is fucking water from the top of his head to the bottom of his shoes and when Jax breathes in, he takes in a huge fucking lungful of it. It's burning like fire and he has no idea how he's drowning. He's known how to swim since he could walk, just about, so he pushes off against the bottom of the pool and claws his way up.

When his head breaks free of the water he realizes it's not the ocean or a swimming pool but a goddamn fountain. He half expects fairies or some shit pouring water but it's just a regular fountain, bubbling as if a full grown man hadn't just burst his way up from the bottom. Jax places his palms at the lip of it and pushes himself up and out, collapsing against the ground.

Wherever he is, its cold enough that he doesn't want to be outside in wet clothes and he lays there for just a few minutes, trying to catch his breath. He needs a cigarette. He needs a whole goddamn carton of cigarettes, at this juncture, and he has a sinking suspicion that no cigarettes will be to hand. There's a backpack or something strapped to his back and after laying on it for a few minutes he rolls over to his side and works it off; it's got a change of clothes in it, at least.

"Well I'll be damned," he says, pulling out the clothes to examine them. "Scrubs. Must be prison again." Doesn't explain the fountain, which wasn't at Stockton the last time he did time, but maybe he's gotten some kind of rec privileges and had a fight.

"Where the fuck am I?"

II. A PERFECT LINE

It takes him a little while to get his bearings but once he does, he sets out in search of civilization. He's got to figure out where the fuck he is and how to get out but, in the meantime, he needs a shower and a change of clothes. He's got the second part of it handled thanks to the pack he came in with but the first part is going to take a little more doing.

Wandering out of the park with the fountain, he finds a road and starts to follow it. Road has to lead to somewhere, right? Sure as he picks a direction and sticks with it, he comes up on several buildings. One of them looks like a police station, based on the shape and size of it, and he thinks there's some fucking goats or something in there making noise. Probably not the best idea to duck his head in there. No idea where he is but there's almost always some kind of outstanding warrant on his head these days thanks to feuding with the sheriff's office and the Niners so he's steering clear.

The next building he comes up on is a little busier, people coming in and out, and Jax runs a hand through his damp hair and strides up to the porch with the intention of getting some fucking information. Someone has to know more than "village that nobody knows the name of or how to leave," and he intends on shaking down whoever he needs to shake down to be able to get directions out of here. He's carless and bikeless, sure, but he can hitch if he needs to. It wouldn't be the first time.

He gets distracted when a woman walks past him and he tips his head, watching her ass as she walks by. The scrubs do nothing for anyone, it's true, but he likes to admire beauty where he can.

III. GOTTA RAISE SOME HELL

So after figuring out that there's really no way out of here and no matter how many pointed questions or threats he offers in exchange for information he's not getting anything out of the people here because they don't know anything, Jax decides he's going to go outside the inn and blow off some steam. He doesn't anticipate that there's a goddamn chicken coop out there, though, and he has no experience with chickens or farms or any of that domestic shit.

What is he, a fucking hippie? No.

Still, the chickens seem to be curious and one draws up close. He guesses it's the kind of thing his kids might want to see at the zoo or something, if he did stuff like that with his kids, and Jax reaches a hand out to pet one of them. He gets a peck between finger and thumb in response and jerks away. Still, the ground is soft and wet from what feels like a whole lot of rain (or snowmelt, maybe, but he has no idea if it snows in this fucking town or not) and he slides, feet going out from under him.

He lands, of course, in a whole bunch of chicken shit and the chicken looks pleased with herself. He's covered in mud, chicken shit and feathers and now the other chickens are clucking at him too. What is this, a goddamn chicken riot?

"I'm going to eat one of you fuckers if you don't stop," he curses, mostly under his breath. He thinks he probably shouldn't murder someone's pets even if they're stupid pets and he works on pushing himself to his feet. He's going to need another shower - probably ten showers to get all this off him and he hopes like hell that nobody saw that shit.

He stares at the chicken and moves his fingers from his eyes to point at it, issuing a threat. "You and me. I'm gonna get you back for this."

ad_dicendum

WHO: Gaius Gracchus
WHERE: The Inn and around the village
WHEN: January 30
OPEN TO: Everyone!
WARNINGS: None so far
STATUS: Open!

Even after what must be a month or so here, Gaius has not yet grown used to being so completely unable to express himself to most people in this place. He'd been raised from childhood to be a man who would sweep the people of Rome before him with education, eloquence, argument. Even the men who'd hated him had admitted he was the finest speaker in Rome. Even when the people had turned from him to his enemies, it was because they had out-promised him, never because they had outspoken him.

Yet here, every morning he wakes into a world in which the barest handful of people can understand the slightest thing he says. Many of them have never even been introduced, because neither of them knows how to do so, save by baldly stating their names, which is hardly much of an introduction.

He's expecting it to be the same today when he dons his strange blue clothes and goes downstairs to the main room of the Inn for breakfast.

Except that when he hears someone call out a greeting, he understands that it means salve.

Gaius pauses, mid-step, and turns, his hand pressed to one side of his chest where the sweep of a toga would be, and listens. And finds that he can understand every word of English as though it were perfect Latin.

When he next sees one of the residents, he pauses, nods, and says, "Good morning."

The words sound strange in his voice, and he doesn't sound like the others, his accent thick and rolling, but he can speak English.

When he goes out, later that day, the black wool not-quite-cloak wrapped around him, he pauses to greet the people he passes on his way through the village. Not just with a nod, which has been usual for him up to now, but with the greeting of their own people in their own language.

He's got a lot of lost time getting to know these people to make up for.

kissed_byfire

WHO: Ygritte
WHERE: Her and Jon's house, #50, out wandering the Village/Inn
WHEN: 28th of January - Afternoon and evening
OPEN TO: Sansa; Open!
WARNINGS: None
STATUS: Open ~~again~~

( Read more... )

ottimismo

WHO: Sonny Carisi
WHERE: The Fountain, the Inn, House Number 7, House Number 24 (the Church-in-progress), and in-between
WHEN: January 17th
OPEN TO: Everyone!
WARNINGS: Religion? Will update as needed.
STATUS: Open!

( i will get down on my knees and i will pray )

bit_fairytale

WHO: Amy Pond
WHERE: Outside the Williams Estate
WHEN: Late day January 4th
OPEN TO: Rory Williams
WARNINGS: Potential adult content
STATUS: Open

It's the blue of the house that gets Amy's attention. Brand new, ancient, borrowed, so beautifully blue and for the briefest of moments when she'd caught the glimpse, she'd thought that just maybe, maybe, it was the TARDIS and the Doctor just got the chameleon circuit working again was all. Trust him to take more than a decade to fix something that River could've worked out in a week. When she gets close enough, she can see that it's just a house with a very familiar shade of paint. Still, if there's going to be a house here, any house, with Rory in it, then it's going to be this one. She knows it down in her gut, can feel it with every beat of her heart. Still, there's way too many ways for this to go wrong, which is roughly the time that Amy shuts her brain off so that she's working on pure fumes and stubborn willpower to charge forward, standing at the door before pounding on it with no gentle lightness at all. This is important, whoever's in this house is going to hear her, so help her God.

"Rory Williams!" she shouts, stepping back to boom at the windows. "I know you're here, they told me that you were here. How could anyone miss a stringbean with that nose!" she keeps going, as maniacally determined as ever, using it to mask the worry that she's been lied to and Rory isn't actually there. Please be here, Rory, please, please be here, Amy mentally chants to herself again and again.

It's supposed to be together or not at all. She just never counted on the latter being any kind of real possibility.

bit_fairytale

WHO: Amy Pond
WHERE: Outside the Fountain / The Woods
WHEN: January 4th
OPEN TO: OTA
WARNINGS: Potential, incredibly likely yelling
STATUS: Open

(I)

In her last moments, she's not entirely sure what to expect. Will it hurt? Will she regret it? Will something happen that makes her take back her insistence that the Doctor blink for her? What if she doesn't end up in the same place as Rory, what if something goes wrong and she's stuck away from him and the Doctor forever? Then she doesn't have any time to think because when she opens her eyes, it turns out that the angel's sent her to the bottom of the bloody Hudson river. Thrashing her way up, Amy inhales air as deeply as she can, scrambling and hauling herself out of an icy fountain to find that not only has she been sent to the wrong place, but all her clothes are gone and they've gone and strapped something bulky on her back. Glancing at her surroundings to make sure no one's about to come out of the treeline with anything sharp, Amy takes her time shifting through the bag, peering at the long johns with a wrinkle of her nose.

"No thank you," she says, jamming them at the very bottom of her bag, shivering wildly as her hair starts to ice at the ends with the continued exposure to the cold, but that's in her periphery for her attention. She bundles up in her coat while scanning the area, wiping tears from her cheeks when she realizes that she's been crying since she got out of that stupid looking fountain. "Rory?" she tries, an echoing croak in a quiet space. Trust a weeping angel to muck everything up. Bundling herself a little tighter, Amy shoves everything back in her bag, glancing down to see a shade of green she doesn't even think she owns anything in, anymore, and hauls the bag over a shoulder as she sets out to find out where it is she's landed.

Apparently, judging from the buildings and the lack of anything like technology, there's a creeping fear that she's gone too far back. What did New York look like in the 1800's? The 1700's? Why isn't the Doctor here when she needs her? Why doesn't she know this sort of thing? Stubbornly readying herself, she starts in the direction of one of the paths, heart pounding wildly, as if she's going to turn around and there'll be an angel there, ready to take her life because it turns out she can't trust them after all and it's all just some elaborate, cruel trick. It's ten minutes before she sees someone, but when she does, she won't pretend that she doesn't flail and charge towards them.

"Hey!" she shouts, at the top of her lungs so that people in the neighbouring hemisphere would be just as likely to hear Amy as the person she's shouting at. "Stop right there and you tell me where Rory Williams is, or I swear to you, I will..." she presses her lips together and stares down at her boots, which are really tightly laced, so there goes taking that off and punting it at them. "I'll probably just shout some more, but I can be very cross. Because," she says, eyes blazing with determination, "I just lost my husband at least three times today and I am tired of tracking him down through time and space and I'm not leaving until I've got some answers!"

(II.)

The woods remind her of the forest on the ship, all those years ago when they were fleeing the angels. Those stupid weeping angels have been there for some of the worst parts of Amy's life, but she'd really thought that by making the choice to go back in time to find Rory had been the right one. The only trouble is that finding Rory is turning out to be more of a production than she'd expected.

She's been wandering around for hours now, with a quick stop in a few homes where someone had mentioned seeing someone that fit Rory's description, but with no idea where he might be. Once her hair had dried and she'd warmed up past the point of 'shivering her knickers off', Amy had gone for the woods. Maybe Rory's out here, trying to find a way out (trying to find a way to her). Maybe she'll find him and it'll have been barely a few seconds since he'd been stolen by the angel. Not likely, but whatever, sometimes miracles happen. After all, she helped reboot the universe with the Doctor in it, why shouldn't she be able to find Rory in a small little forest?

Out here, the snow is beautiful and untouched, but at the same time, that level of pristine nature also sends a chill down her spine. Hearing footsteps behind her, she tries to find something to defend herself, thinking that maybe she should have started with that, given that she ends up with a branch that looks more like a feather duster than a weapon, but it's something.

"I hope you're here to help," she warns as she turns, wielding out the branch, "or I'll...tickle you until it's really uncomfortable," she warns, and hopes that she can make that seem somehow frightening.

seekingvinland

WHO: Thorfinn Thorsson
WHERE: Around the Village, and the roof of the Blacksmith
WHEN: January 4th
OPEN TO: OTA
WARNINGS: Mentions of Depression and deliousions.
STATUS: Open

A: Around the village
The day started like any other for Thorfinn, screaming nightmares and jolting awake. He had hung around the house making sure to get the fire going extra hot between dosing on the couch. The furnace was fixed but he preferred the fire place. Once again he had been pulling back from people, becoming more quiet keeping to himself. As more people came the less he felt he needed to go and try to be out going. There was plenty of people to keep other's company and he was just blue despite how beautiful their prison was covered in blankets of pure white.

When he finally pushed himself up and got dressed properly to head out he didn't bother braiding his hair. He hadn't been braiding it much since the gift's arrived. Just a old feeling he thought he was past had worked its way back into him, the guilt and the endless tired that overtook him before he met Einar was returning. All he wanted to do of late was sleep. Sleep was never easy, sleep brought bad dreams. He felt like he wasn't really living his own life, so much of the time these days. Like he was watching someone else live his life while he floated above.

He pulled one of his new cloaks on, with the half hood that Sansa had gifted him, knives in place he set out to go to the blacksmith, his head hung a bit as he moved through the snow towards the building, the wind nipping at his skin made it a little more miserable, but he didn't mind it, he didn't feel it like he was sure he should. The cold never really bothered him that much.

What did was the fact he could see something moving out of the corner of his eye. He kept his head down and moved quicker down the street a brisk walk but not watching where he was going, trying to not see what he knew he saw.

B: The Blacksmith late night
Thorfinn had not returned home that day, having wandered around a bit, before eventually going to the Blacksmith as he had intended, smelting the bogiron he figured the other's would do. He had more or less given up on the project the deeper they got into winter, but it was still his favorite place to go when he wanted to get away from the noise of people. It was only after the sunset and everything got quiet that he found a way to pull himself on the roof the way he used to when he lived with Jo at the Waverly back when it was just to hot for him to deal with the building. His reasoning had nothing to do with heat. His new found powers seemed to help with that.

No. it was the lights in the sky that made him lay back across the roof watching the colors dance across the sky. He was utterly homesick and the lights made it so much worse. His mind drifting back.

'Father, Mr. Leif said we ran away here'
'That is what is said.'
'So if someone wants to run from here… where do they go?'

The look on his father's face that night had stuck with him, while the family buried a dead slave they had saved under the aurora. He missed his father, he hated that it took him so long to get what the man had been trying to teach him.

Current Music: twenty one pilots: Ride

Sixth Iteration

Logs

Entries tagged with doctor who: amy pond

Credits & Style Info

001. It's do or die, nobody can save me now

all over the universe

001 ♠ riding through this world all alone

† equipped for oratory with every advantage of nature or training

if I can light the world up for just one day

002 ✝ in the end only kindness matters

(no subject)

the first face this face ever met (in a village)

I've been thinking to much...