the_scandal_of_italy: ([Lucrezia] Melancholy)
[personal profile] the_scandal_of_italy
WHO: Lucrezia Borgia
WHERE: Outside #27, Night
WHEN: 10/19
OPEN TO: All
WARNINGS: None I can think of.



Amy's absence was sharply felt the evening after she had gone. The quiet of the night had never sounded so ominious or sinister, even after her arrival to the village. Bringing Amy to stay with her had been more for her benefit, but it had combated the loneliness that Lucrezia felt every night. Now, she was more accuately aware of how isolated she was and how unprepared for the world.

Somehow, being inside was worse than stepping out into the night air. There was at least space and the sight of numerous homes, reminding her that she wasn't completely alone. Wrapping herself in her cloak, Lucrezia sat on the stairs of her porch, staring up at the stars miserably.

There were so many of them and the were so bright. Perhaps Amy was on one of them now in her strange box and with her husband. It was all she could hope for for her friend.

There was someone else in the night, which set Lucrezia on edge. The sun had long ago set and this was normally the time for spirits and demons. It wasnt much of a comfort to remember this was another world. For all the strange things that happened, there had to be demons. She pulled her cloak tighter and rose to her feet, facing towards the dark figure.

"Who's there?"
majorlyugh: (with . koala . pucker up)
[personal profile] majorlyugh
WHO: Major Lilywhite
WHERE: Major/Ravi's cabin, around the village
WHEN: Mid-October
OPEN TO: All, specific starter for Ravi
WARNINGS: PUPPIES.


Major had been lured outside by the sound of whimpering. Every ounce of softness and kindness he'd ever held in his body had been tingling like a small fire, spreading over the expanse of his body from head to toe at the sound. When he had opened the door, two boxes were sitting side-by-side on the porch - one about half the size of the other and, to his surprise, moving around like one of those fake ferret toys for cats, the kind that's glued to a mechanical ball that moves around.

Only a little less erratic.

He took the stationary box in first, setting it off to the side of the living room, before returning to get the one that had now seemed to calm down a little bit. As he lifted it, there was a quiet yelp from the inside, and Major knew in an instant what the mystery box's contents were, without having to remove the lid.

He sets the box down in the middle of the living room, carefully lifting up the cover to reveal the small, Basset Hound puppy gazing up at him inside. At the sight of his face, it lets out another yelp, this one happier but still pleading, and tries to stand on its hind legs to see outside the open top of the box. It doesn't quite have the hang of what it means to be coordinated yet, and so it tumbles backwards, causing a very loud "AWW!!" to come rushing out of Major's mouth.

He reaches inside, carefully scooping the puppy up in his arms. Once near enough, it begins to lick his face and squirm around in his grip. As Major's trying to check the box for any other dog-related items, the puppy manages to wiggle its way out of his arms and, before he can manage to do anything to stop it, runs straight out of the door that Major's foolishly left open by mistake.

He opens his mouth to shout a name, but realizes he doesn't have one at the ready, so he shouts the only thing he can think of:

"HEY! ... HEY YOU! COME BACK!" as he scrambles to his feet and out the door, chasing after the bounding, long-eared puppy.
scepterschild: (Dangerously Curious.)
[personal profile] scepterschild
WHO: Wanda Maximoff
WHERE: Outside 6i village, near the river
WHEN: October 15th
OPEN TO: ALL
WARNINGS: N/A


A menagerie of strange occurrences were sweeping through the small town. The affects have varied from person to person but, after some investigation, Wanda has discovered that all the occurrences happened after the victim had found a random piece of fruit that vanished upon its discovery. It made her wary of random fruit though perhaps not wary enough.

She was walking towards the forest, with a borrowed bow slung over her shoulder and a thin collection of arrows looped against the hip of her cargo pants. Her boots fell heavily against the ground as she made her way, finding no need to be quite until she has entered the forest. Along her path was a thick twisted looking vine. Light green eyes followed it curiously to find a large bright orange pumpkin attached to its end. Pumpkins weren't a fruit… were they? They had seeds but it was like calling a tomato a fruit.

Wanda approached the gourd cautiously, only to have it vanish as she placed a hand on it.

"Fuck!" Her hands went to her head to make sure that there weren't any surprises similar to what Clint had experienced earlier in the month. When it appeared that she was safe, she looked down at where the pumpkin had been to find a perfectly made pumpkin pie.

Wanda hesitated, unsure if it was safe to eat. Except it looked so delicious, if bunny ears or losing her voice for a short time was the cost then she'd accept it for a piece of perfectly made pie.
tooktheblack: (119)
[personal profile] tooktheblack
WHO: Jon Snow
WHERE: woods; House 25; weirwood (locked to Starks only)
WHEN: 18 August (plague prompt); early September
OPEN TO: all; weirwood prompt locked to Starks only
WARNINGS: usual sad bastard warnings.



a. bring out your dead

It had only taken a few days after visiting his lord father for Jon to fall ill and he tried to ignore it and push past it as much as he could. He did what he could to keep going, to maintain his routine, but after three days he fell to the fever and the rash and took to his bed.

Jon couldn't ever remember being ill like this. Once, during the False Spring, he'd fallen ill with a flu that all the rest of the Starks had fallen ill with one after another in succession. While Sansa and Robb had the touch of Catelyn Stark to soothe them when they thrashed in the sheets, Jon only had broth from Old Nan and the fevered dreams of a boy who wanted his mother more than anything. He wanted his mother to put cool cloths against his forehead and to brush his hair back from his brow.

His mother never came.

Now, as a man grown, he wouldn't do anything so weak as beg for his mother but he did, in passing, wish to be put out of his misery a handful of times. He hoped that none of his other siblings had fallen ill with this and that only he and Father had gotten it. Perhaps the girls and Robb had been spared and Jon would be better in a few days. Didn't it pass? All things passed in time.

So, for the first time since that illness as a boy, Jon Snow took to his bed and didn't rise for a week.

b. but i'm feeling better!

After laying in bed for a week and a half, Jon finally felt well enough to venture out into the woods. His traps were all a loss, considering they hadn't been checked while he was ill and he spent a few hours redoing the lot of them. It was tedious work, yes, but he was just glad to be out of his bed and moving around again. He hadn't been the best patient while he'd been ill and he'd been really glad to be out of the house; he had the idea that he'd spend the whole day out of doors if the women in his life would let him.

Once he'd reset all of his traps, he took one of the bows to actually hunt, feet silent against the leaves. It was times like these that he missed Ygritte. For all that he was good with a bow, she was better, and she could shoot further and cleaner than he ever would. Still, he had a duty to feed those in the village and he wouldn't manage that if he was lost in a dream of days past. Seeing a rustle out of the corner of his eye, he nocked an arrow and let it loose, pleased when it struck a grouse. It'd make a fine dinner for someone, whether it was his family or up at the Inn.

c. you have found...the shrubbery!

The weirwood was still a tiny thing but even as a sapling, Jon knew what it meant. He occasionally said prayers in front of a heart tree for his family who hadn't come here to this village - for Bran, for Rickon whom he knew was dead and gone. He said them for Catelyn Stark, that his siblings might have their mother again. He said them for Ygritte, for the brothers he'd lost at the Wall and the brothers who had betrayed them. It was a time to think and reflect, to remember the Old Gods and the First Men and how they'd given rise to the man he was today.

It seemed so far away from him now, the snows of the North and the battle that they had yet to fight. There was a war to wage against the dead and yet he was here in a place that was summer-green, a place that winter lasted only a few turns of the moon before it became spring and then autumn. It seemed like madness that seasons would last only a few moons' turn but he guessed for those not from Westeros, the opposite must seem true.

He knelt for what felt like an eternity, his lips moving without sound escaping as he gave his prayers to this fledgling tree in hopes that House Stark would take root here in this village and be strong once again.
theluckygirl: (▲ i'll listen)
[personal profile] theluckygirl
WHO: Claire Temple
WHERE: Fountain and settling in
WHEN: September 2 - 4
OPEN TO: All
WARNINGS: None, but will updated if necessary


[Fountain]

Like probably a lot of other people, once Claire was out of the fountain and able to look around, there wasn't much convincing that this was all some crazy dream. How else would one explain being teleported from the second largest city in the world to a place that looked like the population barely met 100.

And as nuts as her life had become, there was no way this involved the Hand.

Oddly enough, even though she kept telling herself it was a dream, it didn't feel like one. Physically and mentally speaking. She felt wide awake. So, Claire sat there soaking wet, looking at the fountain, trying to figure it out as she pulled the bag off her back and opened it up to hopefully find more clues.

"You know what this is, Claire? This is you finally cracking." she muttered to herself.


[Around the Village]

So, she wasn't crazy, but this was still insane and what made it worse was that Claire was by herself. No Luke, no Colleen, or Danny. Hell, she would have been happy to have Jessica around to share in the absurdity of the place. Then again, no. Having Jessica there would likely result in a lot of beaten up people.

But it would keep her busy.

Thoughts such as these ran through the nurses head as she explored the area over a couple of days. She checked out the inn and the hospital, which were both a stones throw from the house she claimed for herself. Everything else was more or less found as she walked past it.

And despite the new face looking calm and relaxed, she was doing a little freaking out on the inside. Oh, she definitely didn't want to be there. But by the third day in, she was quite aware that going home wasn't going to be happening any time soon.
notquitegeisha: war stories (You call my name)
[personal profile] notquitegeisha
WHO: Inara Serra
WHERE: Fountain and around the village
WHEN: September 1 - September 4th
OPEN TO: to all
WARNINGS: angst, anger, mild language



Fountain

    Inara Serra broke the surface of the water, sputtering and gasping for air. Frantically she was trying to make her way to the edge of the pond or fountain she'd found herself in. She hauled herself up over the edge and still gasping for breath, she rested her forehead on the edge of well, a fountain.

    She had no idea how she'd got there. Because the last thing she remembered, she'd been speaking to Sheydra on the terrace outside of her quarters on Sihnon. Sheydra! Her head snapped up and she was frantically looking around as she tried to push herself to her feet.

    "Sheydra!" she called out, worry and fear making her tone sound almost hysterical. "Bāngbāng wǒ!" she cried out before leaning over the side of the fountain as she desperately stared at the water, hoping and praying that her friend would break the surface of the water. "Sheydra, please," she whispered but didn't see anything other than her own reflection.

    She could feel her chest tightening and tears beginning to form in her eyes. No Sheydra. But if she'd been taken, surely Sheydra had been as well. She didn't know why she'd been taken though--- Wait. Her eyes narrowed and her fear quickly melted away to cold fury.

    Malcolm Reynolds.

    She'd probably been snatched because of something he'd done. It wouldn't have taken much digging to find out that she'd rented a shuttle from him at one point. But it wouldn't have taken much more digging to find out she'd left the Serenity months before.

    Her head tilted back as she straightened and took a few unsteady and very waterlogged steps. "I don't know where he is! You might as well take me right back where I belong! The Guild doesn't take kindly to kidnapping!" Surely whoever had taken her would be listening and once they realized their obvious mistake, they'd take her back to Sihnon.



Around Town
    Somehow she'd managed to make herself look presentable before she'd headed out to look around the village. She wasn't sure how she'd done it but even though she looked presentable, she was uncomfortable. The fabric of the teal scrubs felt scratchy against her skin. She wasn't use to wearing such things and she found herself longing for her silky dresses and her lotions and her makeup.

    It was selfish and petty, she knew that. But she still missed it.

    She exhaled as she reached up, pushing back her hair back over her shoulder. Her curls looked almost wild, but there was little she could do about them since she didn't have any of her products with her. But the wild curls looked good on her, even if she didn't particularly think so. Sighing, she dropped her hand and looked around. As much as she tried to mask her emotions, it wouldn't be entirely too hard to tell she was confused and lost. She wanted answers, wanted answers and wanted out of there.

    She wasn't sure she'd get those things.

    But, she could at least try and find answers. Maybe there was a library, something that had some sort of information. Something.



((OOC: Hover over the Chinese for translation))
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.
ethnobotany: + alexander | i am so sorry i couldn't save him }{ ethics ({ confusing stars for satellites)
[personal profile] ethnobotany
WHO: Beverly Crusher
WHERE: The Inn, her house, fountain square, the spring
WHEN: August 15-20
OPEN TO: every section is OTA
WARNINGS: Mentions of: death, terrorist attacks, being held hostage. She'll be having delirious flashbacks and I'll update warnings as needed based on threads.


August 15th is mostly a normal day for Beverly. The luncheon is nice, the only difference to her day. Otherwise, she spends the day at the hospital doing her duty or at her house, working in the garden or inside. It's while she's in the garden that she begins to notice how... off she feels. It isn't much at first, though she wobbles a bit when she tries to move and can often be found leaning over with her hands on her thighs and her eyes closed. Sometimes she's even very obviously leaning against the fence itself for support, and she isn't entirely sure she can manage to make it through.

Eventually, she manages to get back into the house. Just inside the door, she calls out, "Jean-Luc―" and falls to her knees on the floor.

The 16th hits her hard. Visitors may be welcome to stop by while she's sick, but she may or may not be lucid. During those lucid moments, she's chilled and feverish and very obviously ill, but she can at least hold a decent conversation. When she isn't lucid... less than pleasant may not accurately describe her condition. She paces when she can pull herself out of bed, and when Jean-Luc will allow her to. While stuck in bed, she rolls and tosses, not entirely aware of her surroundings, and can be heard mentioning something called the "Ansata" or "Cardassians" with a tone of distate mixed with fear. Someone lucky might even hear "Q" in a tone of quiet loathing. The unlucky may hear something else in a tone of cold and very real fear: "It's the Borg."

Early on the 17th, she starts escaping. It's never for long, but any time Jean-Luc needs to use the bathroom or make tea or food or check on her garden or even closes his eyes for half a second she takes the opportunity to flee. She's fast for someone who's as ill as she is. Clearly there's a lot of built-up energy inside her. Either that or she's literally running on empty and will drop to the ground in the next instant. Either way, she ends up in places like the Inn or fountain square. One time, she even makes it to the spring, where she ends up cooling herself off by swallowing a bit of it at some point. By the end of the day, she's back in bed.

For the 18th and 19th, she stays in bed for any visitors who might want to come by again, but this time Jean-Luc is stricter about her confinement. It's just as well, though she isn't in any frame of mind and hasn't the strength to escape again. By the 20th she has miraculously recovered and after lunch, she heads back to the Inn to see if she can find anyone who visited or might have heard that she was ill so she can reassure them that she's fine.
majorlyugh: (sassy . squinty)
[personal profile] majorlyugh
WHO: Major Lilywhite
WHERE: The fountain, around the village
WHEN: July 23, then July 24th - the end of the month
OPEN TO: OTA; specific thread for Ravi.
WARNINGS: N/A


[Arrival - July 23, Early Evening]

The first thing Major notices when he breaks through the surface of the water is the sudden rush of air in his lungs, making his brain vibrate and buzz in his skull. It's a feeling he hasn't experienced since .. well, since he was last human. Does that mean that he's no longer a ... ? Huh. Will have to come back to that one later.

The instinct to survive, gather his bearings, figure out his sudden location change override any inkling he has to focus on the very human sensations he's experiencing. He crawls his way out of the fountain, tumbling up and over the edge of it, rolling onto the ground. On his back, he catches his breath and stares up at the sky overhead for a few seconds before the feeling of the fabric clinging to his body finally sizzles a few nerves in his fingers, and he realizes he isn't wearing the henley he remembers wearing, nor is he wearing the jeans he'd had on. Instead, he's wearing a .. very vibrant pair of magenta .. well, for lack of a better word, scrubs, and there's something digging its way into his back.

He sits up, loosening the straps of the strange pack he has on to take a look at it before deciding to get out of the open and somewhere sheltered. No weapons, no bullet-proof vests .. no hungering for brains. There's that weird buzzing in the back of his skull again.

He gets himself up, slips the pack back onto his shoulder, and begins to wander around the town.

[From July 24th to the End of the Month]

Major's memorized the layout of the town; it isn't all that large, and from his preliminary investigations, it also seems like there isn't a clear way out of the place. He's mostly stuck to the outskirts, having found some shelter in what appears to be an abandoned cabin somewhat near the river's edge (he thinks it's a river, anyway). He takes the subsequent days after his arrival to do more exploring of the village, this time venturing closer to the heart of it, as well as exploring the river to what he thinks is the southeast of his new "home."

He eventually finds himself wandering into the Inn at the center of town, intent on interacting with and asking the others any of the question he hasn't already gotten answers to.
zomboligist: (like please bitch)
[personal profile] zomboligist
WHO: Ravi Chakrabarti
WHERE: Hospital
WHEN: July 22
OPEN TO: OTA
WARNINGS: n/a


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
OPEN TO: All
WARNINGS: None



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."
chosenbytheocean: (eeeeeee)
[personal profile] chosenbytheocean
WHO: Moana
WHERE: The Forest & The Inn
WHEN: July 5th - 15th
OPEN TO: Closed
WARNINGS: Fighting/Violence most likely...



The Inn - July 5th - 10th


Moana wasn't sure what to make of it. She had found the heart over a week before but hadn't thought to show it to anyone. She kept it in her grandmother's necklace which was now useful as well as a keepsake of the only family member who truly understood her.

She sat on the floor near the fire place. It was to hot to have the fire going but this had been Moana's seat since winter. She saw no reason to change that now. Itiiti, the little piglet, was snuggled against the side of her skirts, enjoying the feel of the grass around his round little body. She looked down at him briefly, smiling before she gently opened her necklace.

The heart dropped lightly into her palm, glowing a familiar green light.

"Why are you here?" She asked the heart as if it might be able to reply back to her. She'd notice that the strength of it's glow had been changing. Right before the earth quake and now she felt that it was dimming. Like a heart beat that was slowly reaching it's end. "Please. Please don't die. I need to return you to where you belong." Moana begged softly, curling her fingers protectively around the stone.

The Forest - July 8th - Bear


She knew that the heart brought trouble, Moana had seen it first hand on two separate occasions, but she hadn't thought that it would happen here. This village, this realm, felt so far removed from the world she knew. Surely no one knew what the heart was or what it could do.

She'd been wrong.

It still brought trouble to it's bearer though it was a little different from before. Moana had been walking through the forest, following behind Itiiti as the little pig sniffed out mushrooms and other eatable roots. She had a small basket with her that was half filled with things that she planned to bring back to the inn. With the crack in the rocks and the damage to the town, food that could travel seemed more important than before.

Her fingers sank into the earth as she dug up a handful of fungi. Itiiti bumped her elbow, sending Moana face first into the dirt. Her necklace popped open as she hit the ground and the glowing green heart rolled out of it's hiding place. Moana pushed herself up and reached for the stone. When she her fingers touched the smooth surface of the Heart she heard a roar echo threw the forest. The ground trembled and she thought it was another aftershock of the quake. It wasn't. The trees parted and a large black bear lumbered into view.

"Itiiti Run!" The piglet didn't need to be told twice. He squealed and took off into the woods. For anyone who ran into Itiiti he'd be too frightened to lead you back to his owner.

Moana scrabbled to her feet, wondering if she'd somehow stumble onto the bears home. Her basket of roots and mushrooms had fallen over and now sat a few feet to her left. Against all logical reason she reached down to try and gather up the food back into the basket. "Please stay away." Moana was used to monsters that could understand her and talk. She's never seen a bear before.

The Inn - July 15th
Place Holder. ooc: Heart looses it's glow. Unsure if Moana will have traveled to 7i by then or not. Pending how the meeting on July 10th goes. She wants to see the ocean as soon as she can. And try to get a boat there so that she can try and sail across the ocean. I might also have another prompt up where Moana is being chased by wolves on the 11th or 12th if anyone is interested in that.
9601: (.208)
[personal profile] 9601
WHO: Logan Howlett
WHERE: Bungalow #58, the hospital and the village
WHEN: July 1st-2nd; before & after earthquake things
OPEN TO: closed & open threads (see headers)
WARNINGS: Depictions of injuries, claustrophobia, and a lotta swearing


July 1st - bungalow #58 - Jean and Peeta
 
 
The day started normal enough, if by "normal" one meant "blazing hot like the last fucking some odd weeks". Logan had already spent enough time after the morning forage fussing with the furnace, sweeping out ash and soot, stacking wood in its iron belly, and coming upstairs to check Jean's progress with the plank of sulfur shelf they'd returned home with. There was an odd quiet about the place that unsettled him, something he couldn't really put a finger to. As he crossed the yard for another armload of wood to take to the cellar, he expected birdsong in the trees, maybe another jay ready to scold him for getting too near her nest, but no. There was nothing.

With that bit of strangeness in mind, and firewood to carry, he was maybe halfway down the cellar steps when they began to move. Undulate, really, with a rumble of the earth that seemed to surround him all at once, engulfing him in noise so swiftly he barely had a chance to turn around. Dust and dirt rained from the ceiling, then debris- a beam snapped and clocked him across the forehead.

Logan awoke a little while later in darkness. There was an odd tangibility to it, cold and hard and pressing in across his lower body, an inexorable weight he couldn't seem to move. Resting on his side, the world came into focus slowly, and with it an awareness of aches radiating from all over his body. The worst was his head, a feeling like he'd taken a baseball bat right to the temple, throbbing angrily against his metal skull.

Someone was calling his name, someone familiar. He grunted, tasting wet, bitter earth on his teeth. A dull sound like the steady drumbeat of rain on the roof seemed to echo down to him as well, and he coughed, the air thick with dust.

"Kitty?" Logan coughed again, feeling dirt shift when he drew a hand to his face, his clumsy fingers meeting wet skin. "Jean? Are you all right?"

 
July 1st - 2nd - hospital - ota


Logan was a terrible patient. The bruises he could deal with, and had intended to, but the wicked cut just beneath his hairline was a different matter altogether. He abhorred feeling weak, just as he abhorred feeling useless, and no amount of reminding himself that he'd lost his power to heal was going to make him feel any better. As the village sprang to life under the rain and the earthquake and all those little aftershocks, he wanted to be out and in the thick of all of it, doing something other than reclining in bed with a wicked headache, feeling like he'd been hit by a bus. Getting up just made it worse though.

Getting up made him dizzy, and the floor feel like it was going to rush right up and slap him in the face. So there he was, having to rest, and all the while incredibly surly for it.

Anytime someone new happened to arrive, whether just to poke their head in to be a looky-loo or to drag an injured friend to an empty bed, would get their asses grilled within an inch of their lives:

"What's happening out there?"
the_scandal_of_italy: ([Lucrezia] Pleads)
[personal profile] the_scandal_of_italy
WHO: Lucrezia and Jon
WHERE: Bungalow #27
WHEN: July 1
OPEN TO: Jon Snow
WARNINGS: Mentions of destruction and earthquake



It was a sweet thing to see Jon Snow striding up the front walk to her porch, intent on visiting her as he had on the day of her arrival. Lucrezia had come to look forward to this, often perching herself prettily outside, choosing a spot that would have a bit more sun to capture the gold of her hair. All of it to create an image to greet him with, one that best set off her beauty and better features. Coquetting with him was rather easy, as he didn't seem to have had a woman play these sorts of games with him before.

A flash of a smile and a few sweet words, the same that she had once given to Paolo, his face as grim and serious as Jon's. This was enough to help the days pass more pleasantly. While she couldn't help with hard labor (and hesitated to learn), there was something she could do, sewing new garments and other linens needed. It made a fair exchange, as she had coaxed Jon to help repair her door, which had been battered badly during one of the storms that had come before her arrival. During the night, she had realized it didn't close properly, causing a rough wind to blow it open.

While he worked to fix the door, she would make him a new tunic, a gift she would have given him even if he hadn't offered to help her. She chose a seat on the step, allowing the to talk as they both set to their tasks. It was only the embroidery left to do, white wolves to cover the black tunic. "You aren't to look at it until I finish. I want the rest to be a surprise." She grinned, turning slightly to shield the cloth from his view.

As she pressed the needle in the fabric, the ground jolted violently beneath her. The house clamored and shook, the roof and windows rattling threateningly. Lucrezia dropped her embroidery, letting out a cry of shock as she was knocked from the steps. Everything was quaking, leaving her unable to get to her feet. She clutched to the ground, praying it wouldn't open and swallow her down.

"What's happening?"
bit_fairytale: (troubled)
[personal profile] bit_fairytale
WHO: Amy Pond
WHERE: Fountain
WHEN: June 28th
OPEN TO: OTA
WARNINGS: Depression


It's been days since Amy's last seen her husband. At first, she'd just thought he'd gone off to the hospital to work himself to exhaustion like the man he is, but then he hadn't come back for dinner and hadn't come to bed with her. No matter how hard Rory worked, he'd always come back to her. Then, Amy had figured maybe he'd found a way out or the Doctor had arrived and Rory was in the middle of something, but the village is calm apart from its usual madness, and no one's seen Rory.

She knows what's happened. She's known since the moment Rory didn't come to bed, but her denial has been the only thing keeping her sane. Even that can't last forever, though, and now, Amy's finally starting to break because she's having to acknowledge that Rory is gone. He's been gone from her so many times before, but she almost wishes it were like the cracks in the universe again, just so she wouldn't have to feel like this.

"Come back," Amy pleads, for what feels like the hundredth time, hands together in desperate prayer. "This is not the sort of anniversary present that a woman wants, especially not for ten years together, Rory Williams, you come back," she demands, gritting her teeth together as she sinks to sit beside the fountain, feeling punch-drunk with exhaustion (she hasn't slept properly in so long, not since he vanished, and it's catching up to her). "We made a promise, it was you and me, together," she pleads, scraping at the stones of the fountain, like she can somehow coax him back with sheer faith alone.

She'd brought them to a bloody hotel prison with faith, she'd brought Rory and the Doctor back from nothing with memory, so why can't she do it again? Only, the water stays placid and still, no one comes out of the fountain, and Amy Pond is spending two days after her wedding anniversary alone. No Rory, no Doctor, and only Amy Pond, alone.

She rests her head on the stones of the fountain, eyes blurred with tears, her limbs heavy with grief and exhaustion. It's not the first time she's lost Rory, but it's the first time she's lost him and felt this aimless and without a plan. What's she supposed to do, now? What's the point of any of this if she hasn't got Rory at her side?
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.
posilutely: (003)
[personal profile] posilutely
WHO: Queenie Goldstein
WHERE: The fountain
WHEN: About 8:00, June 8th
OPEN TO: ALL
STATUS: Closed to new threads
WARNING: The thread with Sonny will eventually be ADULT


For almost as far back as she can remember, Queenie Goldstein has been a voracious reader. She'd be the first to tell you she doesn't have a head for the books that would make her smart, but there's just about nothing she loves more than losing herself in a good story. At home, she nearly always has a novel or stack of magazines to hand, and the tales of exotic places and sweeping romance are always her favorite. There was one in particular she read about twenty times when she was in school, all about a witch and wizard falling in love amidst the glittering sands of the Sahara. At the time, tucked up in her chilly New England dorm room, it had all seemed so marvelously enticing.

Now, it's a little less so.

To say the days the past couple of weeks have been hot just wouldn't be near accurate enough. It's been about like jumping into a frying pan when you're out in the middle of the day. When you walk around town, you can see it on everybody's faces: They're all waiting for the break that comes at sunset. Except now, the sun isn't going down at all. It's just sitting there on the horizon, brooding behind the cliffs like an angry dog.

That morning, Queenie had woken to another box with her name on it, perched this time on her dresser like someone had stolen in during the night and left it while she was sleeping. Inside, she'd found a pack of needles and several spools of thread, and while a bolt of fabric would've been nice, she's not about to look this gift horse in the mouth. And yeah, she did feel a little guilty about going into one of the houses and pulling down all the curtains and cleaning out the linen closet, but there's nothing in the storeroom in the inn except for scarves and heavy blankets.

It's just past eight o'clock at night, and Queenie's sitting on the lip of the fountain they all came out of, a basket of supplies at her side, bare feet dangling in the cool water as she works on the sewing in her lap and sings softly to herself. There's still plenty of light to see by out here, and the house is too stuffy even with every window flung open. Earlier, she'd cut her pants off above the knee and hemmed the edges; back home they'd be scandalous, but here they're pure practicality. Soon, she'll have a linen shift to wear instead.
the_scandal_of_italy: ([Lucrezia] Melancholy)
[personal profile] the_scandal_of_italy
WHO: Lucrezia Borgia
WHERE: Bunglaow 27
WHEN: 6/07
OPEN TO: All
WARNINGS: None
STATUS: Open



The shock of arrival had worn off as the day was nearing its end. To go from the Roman style celebrations to a vast wilderness had been a shock for her. The smell of Rome was familiar to her, the waste, food and people were almost comforting, even behind the walls of her mother's palazzo. To leave that and surround herself with...nothing, it was as much of a shock as the cold water she emerged from.

Villagers greeted her, others brought in through similar means. They apparently were confronted with new arrivals often, as their explanations seemed well rehearsed. They weren't disingenuous, just...memorized. She wasn't the first and she got the impression she wouldn't be the last.

Without Cesare or her father to guide her, Lucrezia followed the advice of those that found her. Once she was cleaned, she found a house to her liking and waited for the last of her daze to depart. Was this how her precious Djem felt when he arrived in Rome? So out of sorts and confused? The thoughts of her family weren't far from her mind, quickly chased by an overwhelming sorrow that threatened to suffocate her, as though she were drowning again.

Forcing herself to think of other things, Lucrezia collected a number of linens from the house and brought them to the front porch. She didn't know very much about cleaning, but she knew how to soak and treat linens, having sat beside Francesca as she tended to Giovanni Sforza's home. It took a bit of effort to bring a bucket of water to the house, but eventually she was seated on the front porch, singing to herself as she scrubbed the linens in fresh water. There was no soap, but did that really matter?

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