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freightcars

WHO: (Who is making the post)
WHERE: the greenhouse
WHEN: July 16
OPEN TO: Frank Castle
WARNINGS: (Please warn for adult content or anything triggering) violence, ptsd, horror

The earthquake caused some minor structural damage; most of it was repairable, and most of the village seems to be keen on pitching in to patch up the buildings. Clint is by far the most useful person here for it, he's drawn up easy plans that Bucky's learning to follow through their casual carpentry apprenticeship sessions. The inn is obviously the most important undertaking, followed by the few other communal buildings they use regularly.

Personal homes come at lower priority, and it's in the checking of them that Bucky realizes one place they haven't thought to pop in on. The greenhouse is imperative, he's told, to the food stores and rations for winter. It's not much of a trek, though it's just southwest of the second village. He heads there with a pack of tools strapped to his back just in case, a hatched, a hammer, the basics.

What he arrives to see is sudden and surprising rampant overgrowth. Blue and purple flowers snake their way along almost the entirety of the western wall, a creeping and beautiful vine that spreads up and starts to wrap around the roof of the place. It's not exactly the structural damage he was expecting, but if it stays unchecked it will crack at the seams of the greenhouse and break the foundation, crack the glass, eventually overtake and ruin the whole damn thing.

With a sigh, he sets forth, rummaging around in his hatchet. It takes a second look for him to realize he's not alone. There's a figure there before him, a hatchet discarded at it's feet, facing toward the flowers. Vines creep up around him, a slow and living twist like tentacles winding their way around his wrists and working their way up his arms.

Strangely enough, he seems to just be taking it.

A beat later, he realizes who it is he's looking at, and he bites out an incredulous, concerned sounding, "Frank?"

Because barking out the word 'hotdog' right now just didn't really seem appropriate.

freightcars

WHO: Bucky Barnes
WHERE: The Inn - Open Space / Fitness Area
WHEN: 06/20/1018
OPEN TO: Benny
WARNINGS: violence / adult themes.

Through all of his time here so far, Bucky's started to develop something of a rhythm. A routine that's so regular it's almost uncomfortable; waking up with the sun, watching it rise through the window in his room. Eating breakfast with the other quiet early risers in the dining room of the Inn, usually by himself but occasionally with company. In the morning before the sun bears down and it gets too hot he likes to run, usually making laps around the town at a pace not quite up to his norm before he got here but fast enough to make even an athletic man balk. He typically does another chore after, usually something he's the most physically apt to do like chop wood or help Clint build whatever he's working on that day. After sweating through his clothes entirely he bathes, changes, has lunch, and does some exploring, cooking, cleaning, whatever needs done.

Not today. Today it's raining, not just a light drizzle but rather scattered thunderstorms that roll through the area, drenching the ground, muddying everything and making running an impossibility. It's the first time his mind's not occupied with a schedule, and a restlessness settles deep into him immediately. It's directly following that feeling that the change happens.

Slowly at first, but gradually speeding, he feels... no, he sees a line forming along the ground. It's beautiful, a blue, pulsating fairy light, a comforting looking thing leading from his table, across the dining hall, and around the corner. He glances around, but nobody else seems to notice it. The one stranger he asks gives him a funny look, and with that established he assumes he's the only one who can see it.

And so he follows it carefully. It may feel comforting, it may scream in his gut that it's the right place to go and he should definitely, absolutely go there, but he's suspicious of it's origins and intentions. It leads him down the hall and toward an open room with plentiful space and only one inhabitant. It's a familiar face, one of the first people he'd met here and one he occasionally sees around the halls.

Benedict stands motionless in a strange pose that seems to flex ligaments most people wouldn't think possible, one Bucky distantly recognizes as something he's seen in the back of his mind, a distant memory when they were teaching him to fight that he's since blocked out. Beneath Benedict's body, the light pulses one final, sure time before fading to a dim, barely noticeable circle around him.

He realizes then that he's been staring for a couple of seconds worldessly and his mouth drops open, head ducks, eyes flit away immediately.

"Sorry. Didn't mean to interrupt, I just-" His brow furrows, replaying the events in his mind, eyes flitting to the line and back up again. "You seen anything... weird today?"

fishermansweater

WHO: Finnick Odair
WHERE: South of the village
WHEN: June 20
OPEN TO: Annie Cresta
WARNINGS: Uhh repressive authoritarian government is a go

Getting lost by the lake opened something up to Finnick and Annie that was new to them, as citizens of Panem: the idea of being able to explore. In Panem, nobody was ever free to go where they wanted and do what they wanted. There were a few hidden, secret places that they knew, where they could be away from the gaze of the Peacekeepers for a while, but being gone for too long and going too far would bring consequences, whispers spoken among the fisherfolk of what happened to boats that set out from port and kept sailing, trying to see what was beyond the borders of the district, what the Peacekeepers did to their crews. Finnick and Annie had been lost for days, and they've heard since then of other people who'd been lost at the same time, and of people who've set out to go exploring, and come back.

Katniss had asked him where the district fences were here, and now that they're out of the canyon, the answer seems to be that there are no district fences, and that's a tantalizing possibility. Finnick and Annie saw nothing to restrict their movement when they were making their way back, and they traveled for days. What might there be, out beyond the forest?

They've been talking about going for days before they're finally ready. They've made arrangements for their geese, stocked up on food and survival equipment, packed one of the tents and sleeping bags they'd been given the day of the gifts, and -- most importantly -- the two yellow inflatable boats they haven't had a chance to use yet.

"Ready to go?" Finnick calls to Annie as he finishes strapping the tent to the top of his backpack with some of his homemade rope.

collaronhisneck

WHO: Father Francis Mulcahy
WHERE: The Inn's common room
WHEN: June 26
OPEN TO: Anyone who wants to gamble, and anyone in white scrubs who wants to enable gambling XD It's a mingle, go forth and swindle your fellow players
WARNINGS: to be listed if needed

Many Snuggles died to bring you this entertainment.

All right, not precisely, but on two of the largest tables in the inn's common room are stacks of fleece circles in red, blue, green, grey, and black (they're not precisely cut, the scissors here really aren't up to doing very detailed work, but it's close enough). On both tables is a deck of cards he'd found in storage, and the good father himself is standing between the tables with a smile that's a little more mischievous than many people would imagine he could possess. He's used to leading group activities, but those had often been attended because they were simply something to break the boredom rather than something many people were truly interested in. Poker, however, had always been the camp's favorite activity, and it seemed many people in the village were interested in continuing the tradition.

"When I proposed this venture over these remarkable devices, there seemed to be an agreement that this would be a worthwhile activity to pursue. Anyone who wants to participate is welcome; anyone who doesn't know how to play will be taught. Obviously there can't be any betting for money, but these circles will still stand in for chips. Black will be one dollar, green will be five, blue ten, grey twenty-five, and red fifty. Call it sort of an incentive to want to play well, even if there's no tangible reward. And, to make it even more interesting..."

That smile quirks up just a little more at the corners. It's nothing extremely exciting, but his experience with Claire Temple while she'd been recovering from her mysterious pain had shown him something... potentially very useful.

"I'm sure some of you have realized that there are people in the village who seem to be in possession of various abilities, ones they did not have before. It seems those of us the people who brought us here chose to dress in white can... ah, improve a person, in a way. If we touch someone, apparently we can impart a little extra luck to that person for a period of time. I'm honestly not sure the extent of it, or the length of time involved, but I know it exists. So."

He turns, picks up a deck of cards, and starts to shuffle them in his hands, that smile looking downright pixie-like. "Shall we make this little engagement even more interesting?"

((OOC: reminder, white scrubs-people can impart good luck and confidence for twelve hours to anyone they touch skin-to-skin or are worried enough about to override any other thoughts. People in white do not have to play if they don't want to XD And people in other colors can grab a power-up from someone in white if they want to try it, or skip it if they don't, then just slip into a new game. And yes this does count as part of the Power Surge plot if you grab a boost.))

markwatney

WHO: Mark Watney
WHERE: 6I Town Hall
WHEN: 7 June, after lunch
OPEN TO: ALL - MINGLE
WARNINGS: n/a
NOTES: Please note in your subject line if a top-level is to Mark (or whoever)

I have to be honest, as a botanist, there's a lot about this new, expanded world to be excited about. It seems like almost every time I go out to collect samples, I find something I haven't seen before, and nearly every minute I'm not working in the fields or greenhouse, I've been in Ravi's lab doing tests and compiling observations. Some of the specimens are pretty spectacular, but for a lot of them, the things that make them impressive are also things that could be a problem for the average villager.

Which is why I'm here now, in the town hall, lining up a variety of plants on a long table at the front of the room, some dried, some placed carefully under glass, many seeded in whatever I could find to use as a pot: Sauce pans, old boxes, tea cups.

Early this morning, I left a message on the blackboard in the Inn in big chalk letters:

Seminar on new native plants
TODAY - TOWN HALL - AFTER LUNCH
IMPORTANT INFO!!

In the old place, I used to take folks out one at a time and give them a crash course on what was edible and what was poisonous, but that's just not going to cut it now.

As I wait for folks to arrive (As I wait, hoping folks will arrive), I lay out labels in front of each plant listing what I've been calling it, whether it's dangerous, and any known properties. Once I'm done running my mouth, people can come up and get a good look.

fishermansweater

WHO: Finnick Odair
WHERE: The woods, by the fields, and the Inn
WHEN: June 6
OPEN TO: EVERYONE
WARNINGS: None so far but always the chance of Panem-related asshattery

THE WOODS

OTA

He thinks they're dandelions. At least, they look like dandelions. But for all his training, edible-plants was never Finnick's strongest point. Fishing, hunting, improvising nets and ropes out of whatever he could find around him, those were the skills that got him through the arena of the 65th Hunger Games. So when he finds that a spot in the woods near one of his fishing traps has, in the space of a few days, erupted into a carpet of fluffy white balls that burst seeds into the air as he walks through them, Finnick's immediate response is uncertainty.

He crouches down by one of the plants and peers at its leaves. Dandelions, he knows, are safe to eat. He's seen tributes eat them in the arena. But he isn't sure if these are actually dandelions or just some other plant that acts like them, and he can't remember as he studies the leaves whether or not that's what dandelion leaves look like. if they were dandelions, shouldn't there have been flowers? Or at least, flowers for longer than the time it's been since Finnick last walked through this spot?

Maybe someone in the village will know. Maybe Katniss will know, since somehow she seems to know a lot more about how to survive in the wild than any tribute from her District he's ever seen. (There's a story there, somewhere, but it's a story that nobody would expect anyone else to share, at least not someone who's spent as long under the Capitol's surveillance as Finnick.)

So Finnick gathers a collection of leaves from the plants, and tries his best to collect one of the fluffy heads without it bursting into the air, and puts them in one of the woven baskets he and Annie use for transporting fish.

THE FIELDS

OTA

Finnick plans to stop by the fields on his way home, with the vague thought that there might be someone there who's able to help him work out what the plant he's found is. But as he cuts across from the woods towards the fields, Finnick's suddenly overcome by the smell of salt on the breeze, the tangy smell of the sea that means home.

He stops, uncertain, and raises his trident, his body suddenly tense, the alertness that's always running under the surface suddenly springing to the surface. It's impossible that he's smelling the ocean here; surely it can only be some sort of trap.

He waits, only sign of movement the rapid rate at his his gaze goes from one spot to another, scanning trees, shrubs, anything that could act as cover. It's only slowly that he realizes there's no real apparent danger, and heads towards the smell.

THE INN

OTA

The smell of the sea had turned out to be coming from another unexpected spring blossoming, this time an expanse of purple flowers on the boundary of the fields. He doesn't remember seeing wildflowers there before now, and now there are so many of them that they look like a field of their own. Since he already has a sample of uncertain flora in his pack, he'd picked some of these flowers, too, and he heads for the Inn with his samples in his backpack.

He stalks into the main room of the Inn, because it's one of the places it's common to see a lot of the villagers gathered. He has one of the purple flowers in his hand, and he holds it out, his head tilted to one side, as he leans on the never-stocked bar.

"Is it me, or are there more plants around than there should be?"

[ We're playing with Fluffpods and Forget Me Nots! Check them out on the Flora list for more information about them. ]

Sixth Iteration

Logs

Entries tagged with - plot: open plot

Credits & Style Info

the fruit is rusting on the vine;

everybody was kung fu fightin;

ψ you and I got lost in it | CLOSED

Give Me O Lord, I Pray Thee, Firm Faith, Unwavering Hope, Perfect Charity.

[MINGLE] Just don't touch the puffball

ψ haven't you heard what becomes of curious minds? | OTA

THE WOODS

THE FIELDS

THE INN