rangerbecket: (Default)
[personal profile] rangerbecket
WHO: Raleigh Becket
WHEN: 19 October
OPEN TO: Sansa Stark

*** )
rangerbecket: (097)
[personal profile] rangerbecket
WHO: Raleigh Becket
WHERE: 6I village, Inn
WHEN: 21 August - mid morning
OPEN TO: All + Mingle
WARNINGS: Put on your Eclipse Glasses TBD

Raleigh had been on his way back from his normal morning routine of checking his traps and fishing for a while when he noticed the sun wasn't quite the way it normally looked - he'd caught a glance at the reflection and saw that the sun, normally perfectly round, was looking a little like a lemon that had gotten beaten up at the grocery store. Huh. An eclipse. He hasn't seen one since he was in Ranger training and he hadn't gotten a good look at that one because he hadn't been directly in the path of it (and, obviously, he'd been preoccupied).

This one, though, looks like it's just starting so Raleigh has time to go to the Inn and tell the people there that there's an eclipse starting and they should get something to try and look at it. He's not exactly sure of the science behind it but he remembers being a kid and making something with a box and earlier he'd done pretty well with the water. Maybe they can take pots outside with water and just look at the reflections? Might work. Maybe, too, one of the scientists has a better idea of how to get a look at the thing.

For his part, it's just something that's different from the norm. Raleigh hopes it's not a sign that the sun's going to start moving backward or staying up all month like it had a few months back and that it's just a perfectly normal, natural event. After earthquakes and people getting sick with some kind of crazy illness, it was good to just have something...mundane to focus on.
zomboligist: (like please bitch)
[personal profile] zomboligist
WHO: Ravi Chakrabarti
WHERE: Hospital
WHEN: July 22

In the rush of discovering a whole other land, Ravi's excitement may have gotten the better of him. He'd taken all of his scientific equipment and hiked his way over, going as far as the water's edge before he started to take as many samples as he could, still focusing on the water (mainly because he's curious if this water, ocean or cove or bay, has the same healing properties as the fountain or the spring). What he doesn't take into account is how far it is to get all the way out there.

By the time he gets back, the sun is starting to set, but he's sweating and he's fairly sure that he's managed to give himself an impressive neck burn from the way that the sun is reflecting off of his skin all day. Huffing and puffing, he thinks that someone should have put up signs along the way to warn him just how far that trek is.

Collapsing inside the hospital, he slams his kit on the table and collapses in a slump in front of it, groaning for water like he's a zombie. No, bad thought, that's not what he needs to think about, it just makes him miss Liv and home. He drags one of the chairs over so that he can sink into it, stripping off his scrubs shirt until he's just in a sweaty t-shirt (not hot enough that he dares go shirtless, he's not an animal).

Staring at the vials of water, he knows that he should start running tests before time or strange village magic can change anything, but he's just so tired and hot. "I hate walking," he complains aloud, already knowing that his calves are going to ache like mad tomorrow. "This science had better give me something," he continues to gripe as he forces himself to get up and start fetching the rats for their daily bout of tests.
the_scandal_of_italy: ([Lucrezia] Looks Back (Longing))
[personal profile] the_scandal_of_italy
WHO: Lucrezia
WHERE: The Inn
WHEN: 7/15

Despite her misgivings, she had ventured into the woods, keeping close to the path. There were a number of plants she recognized, many that knew there were uses for but couldn't quite remember. There had been a book in the Vatican that mentioned herbs and plants, as well as their medicinal uses, but she hadn't had the chance to study it or begin her own experiments, as she wished. But now...now there was time, even without the book.

Spreading out the leaves, roots and berries over one of the tables, she sniffed and inspected the plants studiously. There had been a few pieces of paper in the schoolhouse. Using a bit of charred wood, she sketched the plants to the best of her abilities. It was messy work, but she would at least have a record of what she collected.

A few were easy to guess, aloe, lavender, rosemary, but so many others were a mystery to her. But they were beautiful and delicate, entrancing her in her work. Someone took the seat across from her, stirring her from her thoughts as her blue eyes shot up in surprise. "Oh! Forgive me, I didn't see you."
iron_beneath_beauty: ([Lyanna] Horror)
[personal profile] iron_beneath_beauty
WHO: Lyanna and Sansa
WHERE: The Woods
WHEN: July 1
OPEN TO: Sansa Stark
WARNINGS: Talk of destruction, earthquakes and injury

It was becoming a daily ritual for Lyanna to sneak off into the woods during the early morning. After claiming a bow and a quiver full of arrows, she would find her favorite tree and climb high into its branches, waiting for rabbits to cross her path. By noon, she would have a fair collection, enough to trade or enjoy for herself later. Between her and Jon, they weren't about to starve.

With the sun heavy overhead, sometimes the heat would effect her enough that she would doze in the tree, leaning against it as she slept. It would only be when someone else came trampling through the woods that she would wake and return home with her trophies. It might be a monotonous existence, but it was better than the simple waiting she had done in the Tower of Joy. She could at least enjoy the woods and trees as she had when she was in the North.

It was this thought that was dancing about her head as she napped in the tree, listening to the leaves rustle softly from the wind. There was a soft rumble in the ground, a short warning before the world seemed to turn upside down. There was a loud CRACK as several roots and trees broke, the sky vibrating violently before Lyanna's eyes. One moment she was holding onto the tree before she was toppling towards the ground, the branch falling from under her.

A bed of moss softened her fall, the large branch falling short of her legs. She braced herself, covering her head as she waited for the shaking to stop. It lasted for what seemed like hours before everything stilled. The sounds of the forest still, even the animals frightened away.

Lyanna was getting to her feet when she spied a flash of red caught in the sunlight. Her heart stopped in her chest. "Sansa?" Was she out here during the quake? Gods, but was she safe?
pretendtoneedme: (crossing the fields)
[personal profile] pretendtoneedme
WHO: Everyone! It's a mingle!
WHERE: The mill, and the river next to the mill
WHEN: June 13-14
OPEN TO: Anyone! Tag around, tag in, tag things!
WARNINGS: Nothing for now, please warn for content in comment titles
STATUS: All of the Opens

Word had spread in the usual way, one person mentioned it to another, that person mentioned it to a third, and fourth, and so forth and so on. The mill's almost repaired - or, more specifically, it's reached the point where it needs more than one person working on it in order to get it done. Clint wasn't too proud to say this job was above one person's skills, and so he'd designated two days as "group work" days to finish everything that still had to be done beyond some superficial things. As weird as it was to think about, the river going down actually helped with this, since it exposed some outdoor components that needed maintenance and allowed people to work on them without drowning themselves.

The wheel itself needed some repairs, mainly in some of the blades that had rotted after sitting in the water for so long, as well as getting as much algae scraped off the wood as possible. The frame of the gate that isolated the wheel from the flow of the river had been well-built of the same stone as the mill itself and was sturdy, but the rope of the gate itself had broken at some point and the gate had fallen into the river, so it needed replacing. Inside the mill, the grindstones had come out of alignment and the upper one needed to be reseated; the hopper and feeding chute for the grain had been smashed when the demon hail had punched through the roof, and new ones needed to be hoisted up and secured in place. Salvaged scraps from the destroyed houses would do well enough for all of those and the parts had been built; now they just needed to be installed. The connecting belts between the gears had already been replaced with "new" ones made of strips of extra blankets; presumably the original leather ones had disintegrated. Every tool kit in storage at the inn and most of the scraps and salvaged nails Clint had scrounged from the destroyed houses had been hauled down to provide a supply source, along with a few of the ropes or rope-like things and a couple of the first aid kits - just in case. There were a few other issues that wouldn't interfere with the actual mill workings (a couple of hail holes in the roof and one or two other things), so they could be addressed or not as people chose.

Anyone who wanted to show up and help was welcome, as long as they knew which end of a hammer to hit things with. Water to drink wouldn't be an issue since they were right next to the river, but if anyone wanted to bring snacks or any sort of food it would be appreciated by those working. It was still pretty hot, though, so everyone needed to be on alert for people overexerting themselves and potential heatstroke. Anyone who saw someone about to faint or getting dizzy would have been told to make sure the afflicted person stopped working and sat down in the shade with a drink of water. And of course there was always the option of a nice swim as well.
fishermansweater: (Actual human dolphin)
[personal profile] fishermansweater
WHERE: The waterfall
WHEN: During the hot weather in late May
OPEN TO: Anyone
WARNINGS: PROBABLY NAKED. cw your warnings in individual threads.
STATUS: Open. THIS IS A MINGLE, have at it, tag around, you know what to do. If you want Finnick, let me know in the comment subject!

He wouldn't actually say it was really hot yet, but it's definitely getting to the sort of temperatures that make Finnick miss swimming. There's no substitute for the sand of a beach underfoot, the reassuring roar of the surf, the taste of salt in the air, but there is at least water here, tumbling down from the waterfall and flowing through the canyon until it disappears into the rocks to the south. And he knows from constantly checking his fish traps that the water is deliciously cool.

He's tested out a few spots along the river for swimming, and it's good to be in the water again, after being kept out of it for so long by the harshness of the winter.  Not swimming doesn't feel right to him, and it never has. He's never spent this long somewhere with a winter this cold, and he can't remember ever going this long without swimming. So Finnick's been testing the water out since before it was probably what most people would consider to be warm enough to swim. It had helped that he and Annie had some gifts to hunt for in the river, but those have long been found, and now it's just for relaxation.

The calmest, most relaxing place he's found so far for swimming in the river is the pool at the foot of the waterfall, where the water plunges into the canyon crisp and cool from the heights of the cliffs. It's deep around the falls, and it's big enough to swim, and Finnick spends most of the hottest parts of the day there.

So whenever he hears someone talking about the heat while he's dropping food off in the village, he suggests they try the waterfall pool. Word's likely to get around, so he won't be entirely surprised to find other people stopping by the falls.

When they do, they're likely to find him swimming around the deep part near the falls, stripped down to his underwear and, from the grin on his face, having the time of his life. It's clear just from looking at him that he's good at this, moving through the water with a confidence and grace more like to a sea-creature than a man. He's in such a good mood that he even calls out to greet many of the people who approach.

Of course, he's not the guardian of the waterfall: everyone's welcome to stop by whether he's there or not. Once or twice, there's even a moose to be seen standing at the edge of the pool taking a long, relaxing drink.
sixthiteration: (Default)
[personal profile] sixthiteration
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.]
3ofswords: (yellow/drink)
[personal profile] 3ofswords
WHO: Kira
WHERE: Behind the Inn
WHEN: April 21st
OPEN TO: All, Spring Feast mingle post
WARNINGS: Please warn for content in comment headers for individual OTAs

He's hardly the first to arrive for a shift in the kitchens, but those ahead of him have sunk into the the search for the building's chairs and tables--the kitchen is open and empty, the tavern devoid even of stools.  It's another wrench in the works, one of the smaller reasons for routine to fall apart to reactions, and Kira thinks they'll have a better time of solving it if someone gets the fire up in the stove and everyone eats first.
The damage assessment has people upstairs, people on the path wandered out of their homes.  Kira hadn't come through his own dining room on the way out, so he can't say if he's missing furniture or not, and his growling stomach doesn't much care.
It's when he slips out the side door of the kitchen in search of fresh kindling that he finds it.  Every missing table and chair standing in the grass, laden with platters of food, buckets of bottled drinks, carafes of what he finds to be coffee sending steam from their lids.  There are pastries with the coffee, roasted fowl gleaming golden on the next table, between ham hocks shining with honeyed glaze, large fruits piled among wreaths of fresh flowers.
Dotting the tables are jars, more jars than they've had since he arrived, flickering with short candles.  Garlands accent the tables, carry from them into the trees, a web of spring decoration with a feast at its center.  Between the platters are smaller plates, small chocolates laid out under decorative drizzle.  
"Hey!" he calls back through the door, blinking several times to make sure the sight doesn't shimmer away into the air.  "I found the furniture, and I don't think we'll need to cook anything today."

rangerbecket: (004)
[personal profile] rangerbecket
WHO: Raleigh Becket
WHERE: village road; river
WHEN: 17 March
STATUS: Still open. Feel free to catch him before the fireflies sting him or afterward.

The fog's really been putting a cramp on Raleigh's ability to check the lines and fish along the river and with the addition of the fireflies, he's both worried about himself and the rest of the villagers. How are they supposed to keep from getting stung when the things start swarming? He's tried to stay indoors as much as possible but that's not going to be sustainable for very long; the people in the village need to eat and he contributes to that as much by fishing as the hunters do with their bows and traps.

He's down by the river this morning. It's hard to tell if it is morning, considering he hasn't seen the sun in days and the fog hasn't lifted in what feels like weeks but it's after a long stretch of sleep so Raleigh's going to consider it morning even if it isn't. He's got a line set out to fish, lure set, and he's slowly tugging it back. It'd be easier with a proper reel but that's not something he's rigged up yet. The tackle box he'd gotten a couple months ago has gotten plenty of use, though, and he's learned how to improvise and use it along with the long, supple branches he favors for poles.

The trick with fishing poles is something that's sturdy, yeah, but has more give than break. He doesn't want it to snap with a fish on the line but he also doesn't want it to be so flimsy that it just whips back and forth. Striking that perfect balance is a pain in the ass but the other fishermen have helped him in that regard; Raleigh definitely knows when to look to his betters.

When he spots the flicker and flash of the fireflies he starts packing things up as quickly as he can to avoid getting stung but he doesn't quite manage, fireflies finding every available bit of skin. He wishes he'd worn his jeans and long-sleeved shirt instead of the scrubs he'd come in but with the weather slightly milder, he'd saved the jeans for if the cold came back.

"Shit," he mutters, stripping down and jumping in the river in a vain attempt to get the bugs off him. Maybe he's saved himself a couple stings this way. It works for bees, doesn't it? There's no reason it shouldn't work for fireflies.
learned_to_die: ([moment] the end)
[personal profile] learned_to_die
WHO: Eddard Stark
WHERE: Fountain/Around the Village
WHEN: March 10, afternoon into early evening
OPEN TO: OTA (Separate thread for Sansa (continuation from TDM))
WARNINGS: Mention of death/execution (will update as needed)

// Arrival - The Fountain //
The last thing Ned could remember was the chilling, screaming sound of approaching death as the executioner used his own weapon against him. After that -

He'd ended up here. Clawed his way out of the fountain, felt the press of hard earth against his back as he stared at a sky bluer than any he'd seen before. He'd thought he'd died, been transported to some sort of afterlife, but it would've been too good to be true. Instead, he'd found himself in a village, of sorts. There were similarities, to his beloved home of Winterfell, but also -


His belabored breathing is mottled with violent, hacking coughs - many of which force water up from his lungs to saturate the ground beneath him. He rolls over onto his side, presses a palm to the ground, forces himself up onto his knees. As he brings the back of his hand to his mouth, he feels the strange tug of the fabric around his body -

It isn't the leather he's used to, nor does it even vaguely resemble his usual garments - the ones he'd loved and left behind up North: the furs, the pelts, leather delicately woven and dark as the frozen earth. Even the pieces he'd had to wear in the warmer King's Landing are missing. He then feels the tightness of straps against his shoulders, realizes he's carrying a satchel of some sort on his back. He thinks to remove it, to investigate, but first, he has to figure out how to answer a very pressing question:

Where in the Old Gods' names is he?

// Later - The Village //
He's determined to explore more of the town, now that he's forced himself to scout the area, taking advantage of the cover of a number of trees to finally bend a knee, investigate the contents of the strange satchel he'd arrived with. He'd also taken the opportunity to peel away the saturated clothing for the dry set he'd found - marvelling at how much quicker it was to dress as opposed to before with layer upon layer. Perhaps there's something to the simplicity of it all.

He tries to retrace his steps back towards the fountain or what he believes to be the center of the town, pack lazily slung over one shoulder, long tendrils of hair still dripping and soaking the shoulders of his shirt.
kestreldawn: (cassian pt 5 yavin IV)
[personal profile] kestreldawn
WHO: Jyn Erso
WHERE: The Inn
WHEN: February 9, early evening.
OPEN TO: Sansa, Claire
WARNINGS: None yet; will edit as needed.
STATUS: From aforementioned characters.

A routine has been slowly established: wake up at first light, comfortably and warmly nestled in Cassian's arms; begrudgingly force herself from their safety and from the bed; prepare for the day, sometimes with him if he feels like waking when she does; go to the Inn, visit Kira if he's there to check on him; if he's there, talk about their previous day, maybe have tea, maybe just sit and mope together; study the map on the wall and determine what new intel needs to be added. She hasn't yet begun to venture out to the boundaries of the town, not yet, but that day is fast approaching. It isn't that she's necessarily looking for an escape (the motivation to do so has waned she since's found Cassian, an underlying fear that if they do try to leave, they won't be able to do so together). It's more that it gives her something to do, something familiar and something like normalcy.

There's no threat of the Empire here. There's no planet killer, there's no Man in White. But she can't shake the anxiety from the back of her mind, where it's made its home. It's a constant gnawing at her gut, an ache in her side - a shroud stitched of darkness and fear and self-preservation. It makes her sometimes pull away from Cassian when he holds her, ignoring the pain, the hurt that flashes in his eyes when she does. It makes her withdraw into herself into silence, despite her tongue's protestations of wanting to move. It makes her lose herself in the crudely drawn map for hours at a time, and it's only the ache in her shoulders that reminds her it's time to go home.

For Claire
She's trying to plot the path she'll take when the expedition finally begins, but she's finding herself distracted by everything, unable to concentrate. She collapses into a nearby chair, fingers pinching the bridge of her nose to will away the pain that's beginning to split into her skull. A heavy sigh the weight of a boulder bursts from her mouth as she closes her eyes, trying to regain the focus she's lost.

For Sansa
She's lost in the imaginary expedition when she hears the distinct sound of slow, hobbling footsteps. There's a light thud as a body falls into a chair. The sounds are enough to draw Jyn's eyes away, for a moment, to see a young woman - girl? - sitting nearby, looking rather frail and possibly even injured. Jyn first notes the burning auburn cascading down her shoulders, then the pain-stricken contortion on her face. The part of her that wants to focus on the map tells her to ignore the girl, it's none of her business. The part of her that remembers the kindness Finnick and Kira showed her after her arrival makes her expression soften as she asks:

"You all right?"
turned_to_steel: (❥ injured (cut on her cheek))
[personal profile] turned_to_steel
WHO: Sansa
WHERE: Outside the Stark house, then inside
WHEN: February 8th
OPEN TO: Anyone
WARNINGS: will update if needed but part of the lightning plot where Sansa gets hit

Read more... )
womanofvalue: (relived nightmares)
[personal profile] womanofvalue
WHO: Peggy Carter
WHERE: Outside the fountain
WHEN: February 2nd, Evening
WARNINGS: Ice Powers, Grief

It's been days of searching, to the point that even for a woman of Peggy's stubbornness, there are boundaries as to how much she can take and how long she can go denying the truth. She's searched every possible crevice the village will allow her, looking for bodies alive or dead, but it's becoming painfully clear that she's not going to find her friends because they're not here any longer. She'll miss Barnes and Natasha, of course she will, but that's not what hurts so badly.

Peggy's been at the fountain, her last resort. Perhaps whatever cruel joke this is will vanish and Steve will pop up again, like he's never been gone. She'd honestly thought that something might be going right in the universe again, if only to give her back the best man she'd ever met, but that's all gone too. Inhaling sharply, Peggy can't keep back the grief any longer. Her sobs are a choked sound that she muffles with the collar of her cloak, trying to brush away her tears.

Tears, unfortunately, that are crystallizing on her cheek. Reaching up, Peggy stares in confusion and wonder as she holds an icy teardrop on her fingertip. It ought to melt away with her body heat, but a quick touch to her skin proves that she's just as cold as the weather around her, something that shouldn't be possible by any means.

Swallowing another sound in her throat, Peggy finds herself sitting heavily on the edge of the fountain, not sure she has the energy to cope with this on top of everything. She's been accused of being an icy bitch before, but she'd never thought it would end up being so literal. "You'd laugh," she says aloud, not sure which departed friend she's speaking to now, whether it's Steve or Howard or Jarvis, "it serves me right. The one moment I need affection and compassion, this place drives ice into my heart to keep people at bay." Letting her head hang forward, any tears that come turn to ice nearly immediately, dropping to the ground like a miniature weather event right in front of her, but she can't make herself move just yet.

Steve is gone. He's gone again and she's not sure how to say goodbye so quickly, this time.
andrend: (04 I hear something more)
[personal profile] andrend
WHO: Kylo Ren
WHERE: Just outside the Inn
WHEN: February 1st
OPEN TO: All; Threadjack style
WARNINGS: None other than that this is really long.

The fact that daily meals not only existed, but seemed to do so in spite of snow, earthquakes, and auroras in the sky, was one of a few consistently positive glimmers of hope for the village and its inhabitants. It also had the benefit of drawing a large number of those same inhabitants to one predictable location more often than not. For Ren, that was normally a reason to avoid the inn in the hours after dawn and before dusk. However, with his mind on the conversations he had had with Sansa and Veronica, and the missing beast presumably still roaming somewhere out in the canyon, Ren knew he couldn't keep approaching the problem the way he had been, previously.

Veronica's advice still lingered in his mind fresh enough after a month of thought to have him trying something new. He waited for a good number of people to enter the inn before doing so himself, and asked, with a softened tone and a calm voice, if people could spare a moment when they finished to have a discussion.

He had missed the most recent meeting, entrenched as he had been in his training. It had been another lost opportunity, and he wanted no more of those. This was as good of a chance as any, and he was taking action before action could be taken from him.

With his request submitted, he left the inn and borrowed a sturdy crate from outside one of the unused buildings. He took a seat on it, just outside the front of the inn, during the meal. Most people came and went through the doors, and it gave him a good position without worrying about the crowding of the growing village's size packed inside one space.

When enough people decided to come out and take part, he stood back up, his long hair loosely pulled back, and the scar the cut across his face and down his arm far more visible for it. He looked around at the faces gathered, some familiar, others new, and straightened his back, standing taller and more assured. He needed people to trust him, or at least trust that what he had to say might be important. But he could not be harsh, he could not demand. He had to coax reason out, and the only way to do so was to offer his ideas as ideas, and nothing more.

"A lot has happened in this canyon. Some of you have been here for far more of it than I have. There have been hazards, storms, unusual discoveries, and violent creatures. People come and go, almost always without the slightest inclination as to how or why. I myself have gone and returned, and I remember nothing of it." He paused there, one hand holding onto the metal staff he had been using so long now it had become an extension of him. He rested it on the ground like a cane now, using it to keep himself grounded.

"This canyon is unpredictable. The dangers and threats that may face us in the future can not be anticipated wholly, and there is no way of knowing who among us will still be around to see them. But one thing is clear. I do not believe our captors have ever intended anything positive of this place. They observe, and they prevent our escape. They take our strength, our possessions, our memories," He hesitates a moment, his grip tightening on the staff, his voice sharper for a moment before settling back to an even tone. "And they toy with us. We have no idea who they are, what their true intentions may be, or how they came to bring us here, only that for now we are trapped here, together."

He looks over the group that has gathered, a frown crossing his face, his brows furrowed a moment before smoothing over. He has to choose his words carefully, and for the sometimes reckless young man, it isn't easy not to dive straight in.

"I think it's time we discuss whether or not this place needs more than the loose assortment of tasks and common, repeated actions it has as it currently stands. I believe we need a leadership in place. A council. With how unpredictable this place has proven to be, no one person can or should be trusted with that task but more dangers will come, we will face more disasters, more attacks that we can not see coming. We can not assume that we will always have the luxury of waiting until after the fact to react."

He breathes, slow and deep, and tries to find the words again, searching for the right phrasing, the right voice.

"I think a council is something we should consider. A group of people to share the burden of making tough calls or assigning tasks when things go wrong, or when something needs to get done. It will not work, however, if disagreement runs rampant underneath it. That's why I came here. At the very least, it should be discussed. If the majority is against it, I will drop the matter, but if we do not at least have this conversation, I do not think this village will last many disasters before the fragile organization the structure of it is currently built on collapses and falls apart."

Having said his piece, Ren stepped aside, and offered the area he had been speaking from to anyone who might choose to use it.

[This is a meeting post open to threadjacking, interruptions, opinions, and the like. If your character has anything to say, let them do so. I'll drop a secondary comment below for Ren specifically, otherwise go wild and respond to anyone you like or start your own thing. It's intended to be an IC discoure over whether or not the village needs some form of leadership, but any actual organizing of a leadership is not intended or planned to be formed from this meeting.]
tooktheblack: (head turned; spring)
[personal profile] tooktheblack
WHO: Jon Snow
WHERE: the woods; the inn; House Stark
WHEN: 1 February
OPEN TO: all
STATUS: open


Jon rose early as he always did but there was something different about the world today - the snow was gone. The ground was wet, yes, but it was not nearly as cold as it had been for the past two moons and the snow that had been ceaseless seemed to have stopped falling from the sky and had receded from the roofs and the ground below. Jon had never experienced a true spring thaw considering the nature of the seasons in Westeros but he had the sense that this was not the way it happened.

Exiting his home, he knelt down and touched the earth, letting the mud slip through his fingers before rising to his feet again. Hopefully with the melting of the snow his hunting would come easier and, with that goal in mind, he set out before sunrise with his bow and quiver.

This time in the woods was precious to him. It was a time to think, a time to gather his thoughts and steel himself for the day ahead. He did not mind this place so much. He knew that others hated it and longed to return home but for him, he had gifts here that he could not have back in Westeros; this place had gifted him two sisters and his brother. This place had gifted him Ygritte. These were things more precious than a horse or sword, more precious than wine or song. These were irreplaceable.

Jon sighted a stag and waited for it to pass. He never took the first he saw, in fear of not seeing another, and when a doe stepped out after the stag he let his arrow fly and take it. If the gods were good, they'd have venison stew tonight.


When the hour grew late and the sun had sunk down low enough that the sunlight was a weak, thin thing, Jon decided he'd had enough of checking traps and hunting game and decided to bring his catch to the inn. Some of it would come back with him to be shared with House Stark alone, the smaller game, but the deer was something he'd have to leave at the kitchens to be shared with everyone. Lady Kate ought to be able to make something fine of it; Jon had come to enjoy her cooking over the past several moons and he was eager to see what she'd do with the deer.

After bringing his game indoors and cleaning the rabbits to bring home (skins for Sansa, meat for stew in their homes), he settled in front of the fire for a little while. It wasn't as cold as it had been the past several moons, no, but after being out in the woods for the majority of the day Jon was looking forward to having something hot to drink and just resting before making the long walk back to the home he shared with Ygritte.

He had a mug of some sort of tea, some concoction made with herbs. It wasn't like the tea he'd drunk at Winterfell, of course, but it was something that was hot and soothed his throat and warmed his belly. It would sustain him for the walk to Robb's and, later, for the walk back down to his own house. As he drank, he watched the crack and pop of the logs in the fireplace and it felt, for all the world, like being at Winterfell again.

As people came in and out around him, he nodded; he wasn't terribly talkative, no, but it was hard not to greet those who had been living and working alongside him for the past several months.


The hour was later still and Jon eventually vacated his chair inside the inn for another place, a place warmed not only by the logs on the fire but the warmth of his family. Robb's house was always packed with people considering he lived with Sansa and Arya and when Jon stepped up onto the porch and pushed the door in, he wasn't surprised to see family gathered there.

It was still novel to him to have family so close and now that he and Robb weren't quarreling any longer he felt much more comfortable just showing up unannounced. He had skins for Sansa - ones that needed to be tanned and ones that had already been tanned and were ready to be used. He had meat for them, a few rabbits that might make a night's supper. He also had himself, no matter how dour of company he often was.

His family always brought a smile to his face in spite of whatever foul mood he might have worked himself into and today he was in high spirits, a grin playing at his lips and merriment in his voice.

"Sansa? Arya? Robb? Who's home? I've brought gifts."
kissed_byfire: (pic#10377337)
[personal profile] 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!
STATUS: Open again

Read more... )
chosenbytheocean: (Oh No)
[personal profile] chosenbytheocean
WHERE: Inn & Fountain/Around & Near
WHEN: January 9th [Morning - Evening]
OPEN TO: Everyone!
STATUS: Closed

The chicken and the fountain. )
turned_to_steel: (♥ smiling (looking upwards))
[personal profile] turned_to_steel
WHO: Sansa Stark
WHERE: Down by the river - Raleigh's
WHEN: January 8th
OPEN TO: Raleigh
WARNINGS: will update if necessary
STATUS: closed

Read more... )


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