Sixth Iteration Logs

<div class="postheader">WHO: (Who is making the post)
WHERE: (Where the post takes place)
WHEN: (When the post takes place)
OPEN TO: (Who the post is open to tags from -- Specific characters, all, none, etc.)
WARNINGS: (Please warn for adult content or anything triggering) <hr></div>
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lastofthekellys

WHO: Kate Kelly
WHERE: One of the earthquake-damaged houses
WHEN: Backdated to after the winter meeting
OPEN TO: Raven Reyes
WARNINGS: TBA
STATUS: Closed | Ongoing

Kate's offer at the winter meeting of helping had been genuine. Genuine enough that she's even forgone her usual skirts in favour of the denim overalls, although the rest of her attire remains the same under her coat. She's grateful for the coat, and for the woollen hat their captors had seen fit to give her last box, and for the gloves. Even though the gloves lack the tips of their fingers, which while normally she could see some use of, they aren't much good in this weather.

She stamps her feet a little to warm up her legs as she looks at the house, and then back over at Miss Raven.

"It looks sturdy enough, from here," she says. She's talking about the house. Before any sled building, they need to find the parts, which requires going inside. "I think it was just cracked too much to live in, rather than fall in on us."

Kate'd rather be inside, out of the wind. Even tearing apart cabinets, taking doors off their hinges, seeing what could be used as runners, all of that potentially and probably frustrating work is better than nothing. But on the other hand, having a house collapse on her and Miss Raven would be terribly annoying.

specialise

WHO: Raven Reyes.
WHERE: The Inn, the Bungalows, the Fountain.
WHEN: December 18 - 24.
OPEN TO: Everyone!
WARNINGS: Possible mentions of depression as well as previous violence.
STATUS: Open! Please keep in mind there's a few prompts below and I'd like to limit each one to a couple of people for a variety of different situations!
SUMMARY: Raven's being reunited with her bum leg for a week.
( I WAS LOOKING AT A RIVER BED )

lastofthekellys

WHO: Kate Kelly
WHERE: The Inn/Pub's main room
WHEN: 2st December
OPEN TO: E V E R Y O N E ~~not going on science/hunt quest. Hunt a monster, miss a meeting <.<~~
WARNINGS: TBA as needed
STATUS: Open!

For the past few days, Kate has been spreading the word that there'll be a meeting after lunch today. The previous meetings had been in reaction to something, and to a certain extent, this one is no different. But Kate wants to try something else: planning. Planning on how to deal with the coming months when the weather will only get worse. How to deal with blizzards, storms. How to deal with problems hopefully before they arise.

And, maybe, it makes her feel better doing this. Organising something, now that her comrade-in-practical-arms (Mark Watney) has left her to go trek after a monster. Far, far more practical than having hysterics. Which she won't admit to having to anyone but her cat and Benedict.

(Her tea that night might have been spiked with a dash of whiskey to insure that she slept.)

Today, the weather is cold. There is snow on the ground, and the sun isn't coming out to play. It is the kind of day where people linger over their meals in the warmth of the Inn anyway, seats near the fireplace taken quickly. Towards the end, Kate starts to organise for the meeting. One of the smaller tables is tipped over its side so Ivan has something to write on to take the minutes, and Kate hands him some pieces of precious chalk.

Then she stands on a chair and taps a spoon against a tiny saucepan in lieu of a bell.

"Attention, please! I call this meeting to order. So much as we ever get order. Winter's not goin' away in a hurry, so before we all run into trouble, we're goin' t'come up with some ideas and share knowledge. Not all of us come from the same world, let alone the same environment. If it seems obvious to you, say it anyway, because it might not be to others. Everyone got that? Good."

With that, she steps off the chair and sits on it.

Meeting's begun.

[OOC: Like our other meetings, set-up is mingle and threadjackable unless otherwise specified. Please set up your own heading posts for various topics that your characters would bring up for some organisation, but otherwise, have fun!]

thecatinahat

WHO: Cougar Alvarez
WHERE: By the fountain
WHEN: November 15th
OPEN TO: OTA
WARNINGS: Brooding | Adult Content in Jake Log
STATUS: Closed

If anyone is coming up out of the fountain, they're in for a rude surprise.

Days go, like it had been as simple as breathing, all of a sudden Carlos Alvarez vanished and years of awful memories came crashing back into his head. Afghanistan, Bolivia, Los Angeles, and all the deaths and bad calls in between. The worst of it is that Cougar can acutely remember how happy he had been for a few weeks, even if he's sure that Jake is pissed off with him and that Raven and Veronica both have plenty of blackmail material on him.

Now he's heaving heavy rocks into the fountain because he can't even shoot anything, which makes him feel useless. Not only is he useless, but he's back to being unhappy and the last thing he wants to think about is how hard it will be to sleep tonight, after three weeks of peaceful rests and sleeping in with no nightmares to chase him, because the worst thing that had happened in that boys' life had been losing his family for who he'd chosen to be.

As it stands, all he wants to do is throw more into the fountain, the heavier of the rocks straining his muscles, but making him feel it. When he throws the next, though, it doesn't hit the water, but instead goes crashing off the side, tumbling down the side of the fountain and in the direction of the path, having done no damage at all. Seeing a pair of feet on the path just by where the heavy rock had ended up rolling, Cougar nudges his hat up with a thumb and gives a nod to acknowledge them, a shrug, and then a single word.

"Sorry." He lets his gaze slide down. "I didn't hurt you?"

booklegging

WHO: Jess Brightwell, Raven Reyes, a dead bear, and you!
WHERE: The inn.
WHEN: Nov. 9th.
OPEN TO: Anyone and everyone.
WARNINGS: Animal death, gore, conspiracy theories, etc. You know the drill.
STATUS: Open.

( if you go down to the woods today, you're sure of a big surprise )

thecatinahat

WHO: Cougar Alvarez
WHERE: Outside the bungalow
WHEN: October 18th, PM
OPEN TO: Jake | OTA
WARNINGS: Amnesia
STATUS: Closed

( Wake up, Carlos, you'll miss your life sleeping in like this )

He's quick to hurry out of that bedroom, but when he tries for escape, his foot comes across a box on the porch. Cautiously, Carlos looks down at it and when he sees his name on the cardboard, he opens it to find jeans, a light pink long sleeve shirt, and a tarp hat, weathered with many logos. He yanks it into his hands and changes in the kitchen swiftly, his stomach growling. He still needs to get out of here, away from the strange man in the bedroom upstairs before someone figures out what he's done.

If this gets back to his parents, then any chance of reconciliation is gone. Hurrying outside, Carlos shoves the hat onto his frizzing, short curls and starts to walk with his head resolutely on the ground, every step a stubborn one.

It's why he doesn't realize for a whole minute that he's not in California, that this isn't home.

The weather is brisk, sending a chill down his spine, and nothing around him makes sense. Suddenly, waking up in bed with a stranger that he can't remember isn't the only one of his worries and he's convinced that he's been kidnapped. He spins to debate going back and getting answers from the gringo, but he's not sure what to think about that man and the situation, so instead, he turns back to study the foreign ground in front of him.

Carlos is lost, without a school to turn to, without an army base to hide behind, and without any friends or family (though they abandoned him long before this). Feeling sick to his stomach, he feels his knees going a little weak as he struggles to find someplace to sit. In the end, he ends up on the very porch of the house he'd been trying to escape from, taking his hat off his head to wring it between his hands, the worry showing all over his face.

If only he could go home, but Mexico is even further than California and home doesn't want him back.

thingsfall

WHO: Bruce Wayne
WHERE: The Fountain | The Inn | Fountain Park
WHEN: October 15th and the days following
OPEN TO: all
WARNINGS: to be updated as needed
STATUS: open

( what are we saving for? )

booklegging

WHO: Jess Brightwell and everyone!
WHERE: The inn.
WHEN: Sept. 28th to Oct. 11th.
OPEN TO: Everyone who lives at or would visit the inn during the non-stop rain. If you don't feel like making a log for the inn but want a place to tag around, this is the mingle post for you!
WARNINGS: Will update if necessary.
STATUS: Open. Mingle away, comrades.

There's nothing quite like the sky opening up and releasing a torrential downpour to bring people together. With water coming down in buckets and the streets turning into waterways, it would be wise to seek shelter until this lets up...

If it ever lets up.

For those needing a place to warm up, the inn has a roaring fire and hot tea waiting. Pass the time watching the rain at the window, or telling stories around the main room's fireplace, or enjoying friendly company in the pub. You're even welcome to stay the night in one of the inn's spare rooms, just don't mind the leaks. It's an old building. Luckily there are plenty of buckets to go around.

teen_angst_bullshit

WHO: Veronica Sawyer
WHERE: The spring
WHEN: BACKDATED to the night of September 19
OPEN TO: OTA
WARNINGS: Naked ladies?
STATUS: Open
NOTE: Skinny-dipping party post! Threadjack away! All village ladies will have been quietly invited. Brave men are also welcome to accidentally happen upon them all or try to spy.

The sky was filled with the most perfect, big, bright, shining moon. Mark called it the harvest moon, but tonight, she's just their gracious and beautiful lady to Veronica; their luminescent co-conspirator.

The idea had come to her mostly out of desperation. Hauling water back from the spring is tedious and exhausting, and there's never enough to have a real bath -- Although the thought of spending a whole day walking her happy ass back and forth solely to indulge had occurred to her. The spring itself is clear and clean and inviting, but with people in and out of the area all day long, it's not exactly private.

So what do you do? Go at night, of course, and invite all of your friends.

"I haven't done this since summer camp in sixth grade," Veronica admits as she whips her shirt off over her head and drops it beside the shimmering pool. She wouldn't have called herself an exhibitionist by any means, but feeling as gross as she has been makes a girl not care so much about who sees her topless. And after she shimmies quickly from her pants and slips into the water, any irrational, lingering embarrassment is snuffed entirely out: It is truly and completely bliss.

notabirdcostume

WHO: Sam Wilson
WHERE: The Village and then Inn
WHEN: (backdate) September 15
OPEN TO: ALL
WARNINGS: Paranoia? IDK.
STATUS: Open and also VERY threadjack friendly. This can be as crazy as the last time they all got together to spout theories. Set up your own sub-threads for what discussions you want to happen. I figure we need a discussion about the fountain and Sam's plan to watch it, a discussion about the recently discovered spring's side effects, and possibly a talk about any new discoveries or progress that's been made since the last town meeting. Feel free to mingle and make friends.

( A. Summoning the Paranoid Woods People )

---

( B. Best Laid Plans and More Paranoid Ravings of the Village )

lastofthekellys

WHO: Kate Kelly
WHERE: The Inn
WHEN: 10th September and a few days after
OPEN TO: Inn Residents, whoever else might be in the building: then, everyone!
WARNINGS: TBA
STATUS: Open

Earthquake

It's 5pm, or would be, if anyone paid much attention to things like clocks here. Sunset isn't for another two and a half hours or so, and the day's been hot. Not as humid as it has been. The Inn is mostly quiet, as it's hours after the midday dinner and the only people around either live at the Inn or have reason to be there. Supper will be made soon, as it's been a good day with the food supply.

Then, a minute later, the ground starts to shake.

Repairs and Aftermath

The Inn hasn't been as badly damaged as some other buildings. Foundations are still strong, walls haven't been cracked. But it's a big building, with lots of furniture and light fixtures, and it got shaken.

Having been turned into the unofficial community centre, it'll take some work and a few days to get everything straightened up again.

There's also the little matter of the water supply...

ooc: this is a party-style post, so set up your own OTAs or tag around and have fun! Setting is both for the day of the quake and a few days after to try and fix things up.

tooktheblack

WHO: Jon Snow
WHERE: Along the road; Margaery's home
WHEN: 9 September
OPEN TO: All - feel free to find him along the road in the village or at the inn dropping off the game he's killed.
WARNINGS: N/A
STATUS: Open

Jon had spent the last several weeks with a certain routine: he awoke early and took to the woods when the animals were still grazing and hunted what he could. He never shot the first animal he saw because, in theory, if there were enough to be eating, he would see another and be able to take it instead. If he never saw another, it would be a good thing he hadn't taken the first. That had been one of the many lessons he'd learned from his lord father and he'd carried it with him to the Wall and now to this place.

Afterward, he would check his snares to see if anything small had wandered into the traps. He'd gotten lucky with rabbits, of late, and while the pelts were small, he still skinned them and saved them in hopes that there was something they could make from them. He knew that winter would come to this place eventually and none of the clothing that their captors had given them had seemed especially warm to Jon. There was no fur on any of them; how would they keep warm during the winter with no fur to line their collars or wrists?

After the work of the day was done, he would take his kills to the inn to be cooked and would spend much of the rest of the day surveying his own home for repairs. There had been a leaky roof that he'd had to patch with little in the way of supplies and Jon hoped that the ground wouldn't quake again and cause actual damage to the building itself. He had no tools to fix it and, truthfully, these homes were nothing like anything he'd seen in Westeros. He knew how to thatch a castle roof, yes, but these homes had something else entirely.

Come mid afternoon, he found himself wanting to check on the Lady Margaery. She had her own house some distance along the road away from his own and if she needed repairs, he imagined she'd be less suited to complete them than he was. It was with that purpose in mind that he headed out along the road, head bent, to see if there was something he might do for her.

It was an offer made of kindness, he told himself. Nothing more and nothing less.

booklegging

WHO: Jess Brightwell.
WHERE: The inn.
WHEN: Sept. 7th.
OPEN TO: Anyone!
WARNINGS: Doomsday prepping because rude, mother nature.
STATUS: Open.

Jess wasn't normally one to spend time idling around when he had a canyon to comb through, but the growing ferocity of the earthquakes had shifted his priorities in an abrupt. Getting caught in the forest during yesterday's quake and nearly pitching forward into some brambles on account of the buckling earth had made it abundantly clear these things were getting worse--and the next one could do actual damage.

To think he'd brushed off last week's as an overactive imagination. Hindsight was 20/20.

He really didn't care to find out how bad their living situation would get if the buildings caved in on their already meager stores, and to that end Jess was determinedly preparing the inn in case of the worst case scenario. Being a pessimist had its advantages.

Jess spent the better part of the morning lugging around water and filling up whatever would hold it, then moved on to the unoccupied rooms in the inn, going through each one and making it less of a potential deathtrap taking down mirrors and moving heavy or breakable objects off shelves. His own room had already gotten a makeover: he'd pushed his bed far from the window, moving the rest of the furniture out of the way so he wouldn't be likely to get crushed by a shelf in the middle of the night.

Better. Not great, but better.

thecatinahat

WHO: Cougar Alvarez
WHERE: The Inn
WHEN: Hours post-quake, September 6th (pre-aftershocks) / September 6th, evening
OPEN TO: OTA / Closed to Jake (cut content)
WARNINGS: Slight injury
STATUS: Closed

cougar's barbershop of necessity

Cougar's beginning to think the boxes that arrive are possibly saving their lives. He wants to pretend they're from a friendly, but he also knows plenty about being used when needed. For all he knows, the boxes are coming from someone like Max, who is keeping them alive because there are nefarious plans in place for them. Unfortunately, Cougar has learned that you use what you need to and if you have to take advantage, you have to turn the tables for yourself.

The barbed wire that he receives in a box is small, but it will do the job. He really only needs it to create a mesh on the ground to catch the eggs in the small coop he's built for the chickens. The chicks are growing by the day and he thinks with another two weeks, they might begin laying their own eggs, which will take him from a production of three a day to twelve. With a dozen eggs a day, he knows that the food situation can alleviate a little and he can hunt less, which is something he's been worried about as the population of animals is only so finite.

He's on the ground looping wire when he feels something beneath him that troubles him.

The ground had moved earlier in the month, he swears, but Cougar is currently precariously positioned under a wooden chicken coop built without much sturdiness and the quake seems to be getting worse and worse. Sharply exhaling, Cougar bolts upright without thinking, the side of his neck slicing hair and skin as it hits barbed wire and makes him roll onto his stomach, deciding to use the very wire he's been hanging for eggs to protect him from anything that might fall during the quake (which is worse than the last).

Palms flat to the ground, he prays to God that nothing too big falls on him, his quiet litany of words keep going until the ground is stable beneath him. Blood, tacky and dripping, is now pooling at his neck and he crawls his way out of the protection to glance in the first water he can find. He lifts up the other side of his uneven hair as he realizes that the wire has taken off most of his hair to the jawline. While he can patch himself up from the wound, he cannot fix the hair emergency.

Which is why, once he's stitched, he finds the kitchen shears and goes to the inn, plonking them down at a table firmly and sitting there, waiting.

Someone is going to need to help cut the rest off and while he feels like a boy in Mama's kitchen again waiting his turn, he knows he cannot keep walking around with a half shorn head. Best to cut it to the curls, again. It will be short and strange, but it will grow properly, then.

the picnic

( Attempted Birthday Picnic Apologies - Closed to Jake )

warriorborn

WHO: Benedict Sorellin-Lancaster
WHERE: Vegetable patch behind the Town Hall/The Inn
WHEN: September 1st
OPEN TO: OTA
WARNINGS: n/a
STATUS: Open

VEGETABLE PATCH

When Benedict learned that there was a vegetable patch that had been set up behind the town hall, he had been nearly overjoyed. Finally, something he could do! Stripped of his gauntlet and his sword, unable to use many of the so-called weapons that had been dubiously provided for them, and never having hunted a day in his life -- frankly, he finds the whole idea more than a little off-putting, killing an animal and then eating it like some kind of barbarian -- he's been feeling rather useless since he popped out of the fountain. He's been spending his time doing what he can around the Inn, helping Miss Kelly with her lunchtime preparations, stirring pots for her and cleaning up after all is said and done. But even that can only take up so much of his time, and he's felt uncomfortably idle once all the washing-up had been completed.

And then he found out about the vegetable garden, and finally, there is something he can do.

Growing in soil is highly uncommon in Spires, mainly because the logistics of getting soil in which to grow plants so far off the ground is a nightmare. However, the monks at the Temple of the Way managed to acquire many things that the general populace did not, and Benedict remembers many long hours spent carefully tending little green shoots in rich, dark soil being part of his novitiate training.

The soil here isn't quite the same, not nearly as loamy between his fingers, but it is still cool and damp, and settling to his knees between the little plants to pluck the weeds and make sure nothing is growing that shouldn't be and no critters are eating anything they shouldn't is nearly meditative in nature, and for the first time since he crawled out of the fountain, he feels at peace. Even being down on the Surface isn't enough to dim his good mood.

THE INN; front steps

His excitement at discovering the vegetable patch was nothing compared to his excitement when he learned that the head gardener -- Mister Watney, according to Miss Kelly -- was intending to establish a bee hive. He'd seen a few fat little yellow and black insects bobbing around the late-blooming wildflowers that still dot the valley in which their habble is set, but the idea to try and collect them into a hive of their own hadn't occurred to him until it was suggested, and then it was all he could think about.

He's going to build a skep or two for the bees to live in. That, more than the occasional shift weeding, will be one of his more helpful contributions to the habble, he thinks.

There is not much hay with which to work as there don't seem to be any fields that have been cultivated for that purpose, but Benedict likes to think he's able to problem-solve as well as anyone else, and he's decided to supplement what dried grasses he was able to collect with the reeds that grow along the riverbank. Along with the reeds, he discovered a beautiful willow tree that supplied exactly the kind of branches he needed so that he could split them into three thinner sections to "sew" the twisted reeds and hay together. It's a somewhat messy job, which is why he's set up shop on the front steps of the Inn, off to one side so he can spread out his materials without making a huge mess in the common room (which would, of course, mean running the risk of getting scolded by Miss Kelly for increasing the need for sweeping).

Whistling to himself, Benedict takes one of the thin, supple willow branches and starts to whittle down one end, smoothing it out before he makes a cut with a knife at the end and starts to carefully split it down its length.

thenewways

WHO: Kira Nerys
WHERE: the Inn
WHEN: Saturday,
OPEN TO: All (August Plot, part 2)
WARNINGS: none at present
STATUS: Open

When Nerys heard about the boxes that Jo and Killian Jones had found, she was surprised. When she heard what was in them, that they were all marked with intent, the surprise lessened, and now was turning into sinking overwhelming tunnel vision in her head, her gut. The physical sensation of knowing, knowing that someone had plans for you, and those plans were likely ugly--oh yes, she knows it. Just because it's familiar, though, doesn't make it something she enjoys by any stretch of the imagination.

No, it's the kind of feeling that Nerys had learned at a very young age to transmute into anger. The kind of anger that fed her family, then the kind of anger that blew up Cardassian weapons depots, then the kind of anger that kept her focused on her job and kept her people safe.

She knows that if she's feeling this way, things are just as bad or worse for others. While she hasn't been entirely candid with everyone about her past, though she certainly hasn't lied, she's pretty sure she's seen complexity (let's be frank, darkness) in some of the people she's met, and like fuck did they need a full-scale civil war on their hands here.

It's a good way for them all, in the not-so-long run, to die.

Clearly, they all needed to have a gods damned talk before this boiled over, and as Nerys sees no one else volunteering, she steps up, roaming through the village like an old-fashioned crier. "Hey," she shouts at the people in the field, around the town, using the rather powerful pipes the Prophets had seen fit to give her. "Hey. Meeting at the Inn, fifteen minutes. We need to talk."

She gets to the inn in a few minutes' time, then clambers up onto one of the tables in front of Jo's lists, and sits, cross-legged, to wait. Folks filter in, a few at a time, and Nerys taps her jaw with her fingertips, counting out the seconds (she'd like a chronometer, but that'd be like asking for latinum dust). Once enough time's passed, she clears her throat. It doesn't really do much, so she rolls her eyes, then turns up the volume a little--not aggressive, but enough to catch people's attention. She's accustomed to walking the fine line between too much and too little leadership, because unlike her Starfleet colleagues, she doesn't expect the hierarchy of rank and linked formality of sometimes-grudging respect. Makes it easier to actually talk to people.

"Hey. My name's Nerys, for those of you who I haven't met properly yet. You've probably heard what was found out in the forest," she starts. "I figure we should all sit down and discuss it, because the last thing that's going to be any good for anyone is us starting to distrust each other and get into fights. So...let's hash it out, right?"

If she has to scream the 'this is what they fucking want, they want us to hurt each other, fuck them' message into people's heads, she's willing to do that. Eventually. Hopefully someone else will agree.

abitrough

WHO: Eggsy Unwin
WHERE: Everywhere; the fountain, bungalow 28
WHEN: August 16
OPEN TO: All characters
WARNINGS: Language; will update if necessary
STATUS: Open

Arrival:

There have been loads of situations that Eggsy Unwin’s found himself in that weren’t, well, in anyway ideal. Quite a few of them, if not the majority, were of his own doing, but he’d swear on his mum’s life that this wasn’t his fault. Nothing that he’s done over the last few months would have told him that he was heading in this direction, not a single fucking thing. However, the last few months have given him the much needed skills to handle an abrupt and stressful situation like waking up in a fountain.

He doesn’t inhale or exhale, keeping the water from his lungs. Kicks his feet in short bursts to send his body upward. Eyes open, with a hand extended above in case there is anything blocking his way out. When he surfaces, it’s with no hesitation that he swims to the edge of the fountain?? and slings his body over the edge. His first thought is to get cover. Find a good place to hole up until he figures out what kind of mission this is.

From here, he’ll slip down between the baker and house 41, lingering around the butcher a few minutes. Someone might come across him at any of those places or find him about to scale the town hall to try and see what’s going on.

Estate Sale:

Eggsy spent his first few days walking every road until the houses would end or he couldn’t go any further, double back, and then pick a new road to start down. He counts the houses, looks for people, and tries to figure out what’s going on. When he’s hit with the choice between finding his own place to live and staying at the inn, Eggsy goes for a home of his own. It allows him privacy, and since he doesn’t really know anybody here, he figures it’s a whole hell of a lot safer.

The Allerton is a monstrous yellow place bigger than any of the flats he’s ever lived in combined. It’s too much space for him to use on his own, but if he’s going to be stuck here, he doesn’t plan on actually being alone for long.

He finds a few tins of paint in one of the cupboards, and touches up the door outside, uses his finger to write Unwin across the side of the mailbox. It’s probably not the smartest thing to do, but it feels right and he’s always liked getting a letter sent to him. Then he starts to clean; goes through each room and takes out anything that doesn’t belong or isn’t needed and puts it out on the front lawn near the road. There’s more laundry than he knows what to do with, but he’s got time and he’s not rushed. He paints free to a good home across a beat up vanity table and then flops down on his porch to see who might stop by.

lastofthekellys

WHO: Kate Kelly
WHERE: The Inn
WHEN: 15th August and up to a week after
OPEN TO: Inn residents + whoever would wander in/visit
WARNINGS: TBA (though a general warning for Kate's very unhappy headspace)
STATUS: Open

Closed

After her fall, after her ankle is tended to and she's in clean clothes (because she's, at least, made some of them, tablecloth skirt and sheet-blouse) and she's told to rest, keep her ankle elevated, Kate doesn't know what to do.

She could ask for her sewing, except she's so tired, she forgot, and is anyone around?

She could sleep. Should sleep, maybe. But there are things to do and there's Joe. Joe, Joe, Joe, her beautiful Joe whose face flashes behind her eyelids if she starts to slip away into dreams.

So instead, Kate lies on the couch in the inn's second-floor sitting room, in what she presumes had once been the owner's two-room private suite, with her ankle resting on a cushion, and she stares at the ceiling.

Eventually, she starts to cry.

Open - feel free to catch her anywhere.

Kate's never been good at doing nothing. Too many years of too many chores, and she knows it is better to keep her mind occupied in the current situation. And anyway, there is still so much to do, for the community at large and for the inn and for herself.

Cleaning, cooking, sewing.

She does rest, of course. By her standards, at any rate. The chores, initially, she limits to those she can do kneeling. Particularly, scrubbing the kitchen floor. Square by square, from one wall to the other. Cleaning the mud and dirt that people walk in every day now that the kitchen's being used that often.

With cooking, too, she's good. She sits. She has a stool to rest her ankle on. She can chop like this, strip plants of whatever stingers or protections they have, cut them finely for the day's stew. She can butcher meat. She can sit to the side in the kitchen, and cure pelts while other people stand and walk and move around freely. Kate doesn't know if the pelts will be useful, but she saves what she needs and gets on with it.

With the Mysterious Box of Salt, she can jerk meat a bit more thoroughly now, and it's nicely a job that requires a lot of sitting if she has to. Sit to prepare the meat. Sit to watch it as it's dried out, make sure the heat in the oven isn't too much. It makes her feel better, anyway.

When the kitchen is emptied in the afternoons and evenings, Kate sits at the worktable and experiments in slicing spruce root. Working out how best to cut it to work with. Baskets is one reason: corset boning is another.

The sewing, she admits is mostly for herself unless anyone requests anything. Clothes. Proper clothes. Whoever put her in this place took her clothes from her, stripped her and made her wear what they chose, and Kate refuses to play that particular game like this.

Sometimes she sews outside, in the sun. Others, she's in the little sitting room, ankle up and putting neat stitches into cloth. She'd look demure, but then, looks can be deceiving.

booklegging

WHO: Jess Brightwell.
WHERE: The inn, then into the wild unknown.
WHEN: Aug. 9th.
OPEN TO: Raven Reyes.
WARNINGS: Children at play?
STATUS: Closed.

The morning was lightening into butter-yellow sunrise when Jess started getting ready to head out into the canyon.

Water, a makeshift knife, and an extra pair of socks went into his pack along with his other gear. Every couple of days now he'd taken his bag with a day's worth of supplies and picked a direction, hiking as deep into the canyon as time and circumstances allowed.

Towering rock walls in every direction made an excellent place to disappear a town, Jess scathingly had to admit, and the rough terrain and thick foliage in the forested areas didn't make it easy to scout. More than once these two weeks past, he'd been willing to trade an arm if it'd get him a proper knife to clear the way. But setbacks or no setbacks, someone had brought them here, and someone was providing them supply boxes. Jess had every intention of finding them, or barring that, a road out of this bloody primeval village.

And he knew he wasn't the only one who felt that way.

Before stopping by the storeroom to grab the rations he'd need, Jess' first stop was Raven's room. "You ready to go?" he asked, rapping on her door.

She wasn't a friend he'd trust at his back like Glain, but she was just as hungry for answers. Shared interests made them allies in this, at least.

specialise

WHO: Raven Reyes.
WHERE: Fountain + Inn.
WHEN: 2 August.
OPEN TO: Closed starter for Jess Brightwell + OTA for all.
WARNINGS: N/A.
STATUS: Open.

( didn't it all seem new and exciting? )

Sixth Iteration

Logs

Entries tagged with 100: raven reyes

Credits & Style Info

make things anew [Closed]

AND THE STORY IT TOLD OF A RIVER THAT FLOWED MADE ME SAD TO THINK IT WAS DEAD

Meeting - How To Deal With Winter Without Blaming The Starks

(no subject)

mingle post | open

let's go back in time - ota

we do our time like pennies in a jar

mingle post | open

Skinny-dipping [OTA]

Another Town Meeting -- In Regards to Water Supply and Fountain Issues

of earthquakes and aftershocks

(no subject)

002 ♙ open

and the ground opens up

002; and if you sing this melody, you'll be pretending just like me

keep that fury deep inside you: primitive weapons plot

First thing's first, I'm the realest

and then you trip

racing through canyons of angels ♙ closed

1 💥 WE TOOK A WRONG TURN AND FELL DOWN THE RABBIT HOLE