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sixthiteration

WHERE: The bunker & elsewhere
WHEN: 1 September 2018
OPEN TO: ALL - MINGLE
WARNINGS: Please warn on threads
NOTES: Plot Details | Bunker Details | Bunker Map & Key
Threads may take place ANYTIME during the plot, including before, during and after the tubes have been opened, just please do not godmod tube arrivals without explicit permission. Related threads not in the bunker are welcomed, as are general bunker exploration/reaction threads that have nothing to do with the arrivals. Please reference the bunker key doc for what is and isn't available to explore at present.

Deep under the mountain, tucked away in the newly-discovered bunker complex, there is a room where everyone begins. It is filled with equipment — Computer consoles, monitors — but the point of it all resides within ten vertical stasis tubes lined neatly along a far wall.

One of them has been cracked and lies dormant, dry. In six of the remaining are bodies, unconscious and floating in their familiar vari-colored scrubs, vital signs ticking calmly off on their respective readouts.

In the corner, near the cracked tube, the ceiling has shattered and tumbled inward, across the floor and over the largest console in the room — The one flashing 24 HOURS UNTIL STASIS FAILURE.

sixthiteration

WHERE: Anywhere
WHEN: August 25-26
OPEN TO: ALL - MINGLE
WARNINGS: Mental manipulation, drowning, death
NOTES: Details here. This post is for EVERYONE, not just the affected. Please make sure and note if your thread is locked for plot purposes.

It began slowly.

A wisp of song or familiar sound on the breeze swept in from the lake. No source to be found, only the uneasy feeling it had been heard before as it coiled itself steadily inside the minds of the chosen. The sound was a mantra, pulsing soft at first and then louder, growing over days until it seemed to fill the skull, relentless. Come here, the lake whispered, cajoled, shouted. It is cool and quiet beneath the waves.

Come here, it presses now in time with the melody until there is nothing but to blindly follow. The water is calling.

sixthiteration

WHERE: 6I inn front lawn
WHEN: 4 August, all day
OPEN TO: ALL - MINGLE
WARNINGS: Some mentions of drug use
NOTES: Full plot details here. List of favors here.

The fourth of August dawns pleasantly mild and clear, with hardly a cloud in the sky. Which is good, because it means there's plenty of sunshine to see the riot of color that has errupted on the front lawn of the inn.

The general set-up will be familiar to those who've been in the village long enough — Tables and chairs from inside the inn set up outside for a party by the time everyone wakes. This party, though, seems to have been turned up to about 11, and the theme is definitely new: Balloons, streamers, party favors, and everything in a rainbow of colors that villagers have come to know extremely well.

Each place is set with its own (occasionally large) goody bag and birthday present, each in the color belonging to the owner on the tag. One place, done up all in silver and gray, is set for the lost.

The tables are piled high with the sort of fare you'd find at a children's party: Cake, soda, hamburgers, pizza. Not a beer or cup of coffee in sight. And on the edge of the lawn, beside an area possibly kept clear for dancing, is the most bewildering, magical thing of all, no pocket change needed.

Tuck in and let loose, villagers. If you're lucky, maybe someone will spike the punch.

mediumhoodie

WHO: Kat
WHERE: Fountain & Inn & Around House 48
WHEN: August 2nd
OPEN TO: Closed
WARNINGS: Drowning [a little], past injuries & trauma.

AUGUST 2nd [ARRIVAL & INN]
[ooc: I'd like for only one person to comment at the fountain, everything else is fair game.]

Water pulsed and Kat felt herself being lifted. Her arm had been broken, her body bruised and her heart shattered. The first two injuries had been wrought by Mundus, a demon of pain and torture, but the other… That had come from someone close to her. Someone she had loved. Someone she still loved.

I'm sorry.

Her throat began to burn as her body struggled for air. The push lifted her higher and when she reached the surface of the fountain she gasped, coughing as she fought to open her eyes. Kat remembered the comfort and strength of Dante's arm as it curled around her slim shoulders but nothing after that. Her feet kick beneath her, pushing her towards the fountains edge. She used one arm to lift herself and the backpack from the water, never noticing that her other arm wasn't broken anymore.

Waves splashed onto the stone.

Kat sat and stared at the village around her. She focused on breathing, on clearing her thoughts, and remaining calm. This wasn't the first time she'd found herself in a strange place though it didn't have the same feeling as Limbo.

After taking a moment to get her bearings and catch her breath, Kat rose and headed towards the inn. She didn't know that it was a central location in the village or some kind of important landmark but she had noticed the curling gray tendrils of smoke rising from the chimney. Out of everywhere in the village, it was her best bet.

Once inside she inspected the walls, the notes and then found a place next to the fire to sit and dry off. Her backpack ended up leaning against the far side of the hearth. Kat wasn't too worried about it or its contents. She sat in front of the fire, her legs curled to her chest, her thoughts tumbling uncomfortably into loosely formed theories and questions.

She would survive. She always survived, even if she didn't have a clear reason to survive anymore.

AUGUST 2rd [NIGHT AROUND HOUSE 48]
[ooc: This takes place after this thread and after everything has been explained to her.]

Kat's conversation with Vergil had gone better than she would have expected. The confrontation felt like it had happened two days ago though there was no mark left on her body. His words back then, they had cut her, but Kat wanted to give him a chance and she truly thought that he had that chance here. He was human now. He was working. He was more than a man with two lives and a hidden agenda. That didn't mean that Kat didn't think that Vergil was scheming but that she wanted to support his efforts.

It hurt. She didn't want to admit how much he had hurt her but she was used to pain.

She wouldn't let her pain rule her.

Kat held the small note in her palm as she looked for the correct house. It'd been a code, as expected of Vergil, but Kat had worked with Vergil long enough to have figured out what he had meant without too much difficulty. She had brought her backpack with her, having no other place to put it, and had collected some items that she would need from the inn. Now she had to find Vergil's home.

It would have helped if he hadn't just given her a piece of paper with a number on it.

Darkness covered the village like a veil with the bright moon illuminating Kat's wandering path. She continually looked down at the small piece of paper, looking incredibly lost while trying to recall the map she'd seen at the inn. When she reached the mill she knew that she'd gone too far, turned around and continued her search.

[ooc: If you want something special or to continue test drive things please let me know. I am happy to write up meeting starters for anyone who wants to run into her.]

sixthiteration

WHERE: 6I Village and Inn
WHEN: 27-31 July
OPEN TO: ALL - Mingle
NOTES: The Wendigo threatening the village will be killed mid 28 July, with a Blue Lily, per these threads. Plot details here. Note: The final fight is close enough to be seen from the upstairs inn windows.
WARNINGS: Wendigo attack mingle, please warn in comment headers if discussing violence, gore, or related trauma. Possible mentions of character death.

The urgent warnings come from villagers returning south from the lake: a creature twice the size of a man, antlered and voracious. Larger than any they've seen on the plains, stalking its way to the main village. Some might have their own names for this hunger in a skin of shadow; others might remember that it was the first to claim a life, in their village's short history.

Whatever context one has for it, best to secure all pets and loved ones before it arrives. With weapons and food stores at the inn, the call goes out to gather — And to bring back any tools, because there's no telling what doors and windows can do to stop such a creature.

demonic_divinity

WHO: Vergil Sparda
WHERE: The Inn, In and around House 48.
WHEN: July 17/19th
OPEN TO: All
WARNINGS: None, will update.

The Inn
Waking in the morning, Vergil set about gathering up the few things he had. More people had arrived since he had, and despite knowing the Inn was the best place to be, namely with his lack of survival skills. He was a loner by nature and the inn was just to full for his liking. The journal he had grabbed up on the day of the quake shoved in his bag with the rest of the things he arrived with in the bag.

He left the door cracked, to make sure it was clearly vacant now, moving down the steps quickly, stopping long enough to get something to eat to tide him over for awhile. Not being able to have whatever he wanted just delivered really sucked. Even pizza sounded like a heavenly gift now after the past week or so.

Around House 48 and the Mill
Vergil had walked around the village, as he had tried to do each day, but the rains and the quake had hindered his plans mostly. He had made his way around looking at empty houses, not going in just looking for something aesthetically pleasing. As if that even mattered in the situation he had found his life in of late. Some habits were hard to break.

Even his old base for the Order had been beautiful in its decay. So when he wandered his way across the water to the Mill, he found a small group of houses past the mill. It was a house with red brick and blue trim that called to him. Walking up the steps it was easy to tell this place was unoccupied. He held tighter to the backpack over his shoulders and made his way on up through the yard pushing the door open, the months and months on months and months of dust fluttered around, he sneezed loudly at that but left the door open. The first thing he did was walk around and open all the windows. It was hard to turn off the voice in the back of his mind screaming open windows invite robbers... but really? This wasn't Limbo City, and it sure had nothing worth stealing.

The door stayed open left the backpack on the porch and went in search of anything he could use to get the dust up, no broom in sight he did however find linens and stupidly decided to use one of the sheets to try to clean the dust up with it. It quickly got dirty as could be. A pillow case came next to start cleaning some of the furniture. Every now and then he would have to step outside and start sneezing loudly. Being human sucked. It wasn't fair that he had to clean, he was almost tempted to go back to the inn, but he had already committed to the idea.

Before the sun set he had found a way to beat the dust out of the mattress after stripping it and the pillows. All the linens needed washed but he was to tired to care. A month ago he would have judged himself. Sleeping on a dusty bare bed sounded more like something Dante would do than himself. He wanted a shower as well, but he wasn't sure how well he trusted the running water yet, the house had a long way to go, and the dark of the night felt a lot more noticeable by himself, still he was exhausted so sleep came quickly.

After morning came, he gave the plumbing a shot, changing into his spare scrubs after a quick cold bath. His reflection in the dirty mirror almost disappointed him, but an idea struck. Running down to the kitchen he looked around. The kitchen had dishes, and other things. He hurried down through the yard once he found the largest pan, taking the dirty bed clothes with him, though he had no soap yet, he tried his best to get some of the filth off the sheets. It made his arms ache pulling the wet sheets out and wringing them, throwing the wet pillow cases in the pan. With wet sheets over his arms folded enough to keep them from dragging. He made his way back from the river. He looked at the mill a moment, tipping his head to the side. Another idea forming but for now he had a house to clean and a survival manual to read.

It was mid afternoon when he gave up for awhile and could be found sitting on the front porch with the sheets hanging off the porch's rails, and the Army survival manual in hand, reading quietly. The house still had a lot of work it needed, and he needed to figure out how to clean the gutters and check and see if the furnace could be cleaned, but for a spoiled rich kid, he was pretty proud of what he had gotten done even if his clothes were filthy. The stolen journal from the inn's storage room was open next to him as he quietly jotted notes.

pharmakis

WHO: Circe
WHERE: Near the Mill
WHEN: 7/10
OPEN TO: Jon Snow, OTA
WARNINGS: Lightning strike

Closed to Jon Snow:

The singing of the plants had returned. While she wasn't able to cast, she could hear and influence her garden as she used to on Aiaia. Despite the warning of the storms, she ventured outside daily. The upgrowth of the blue lilies and the ringing of electricity fascinated her. They had been gathering around the edges of her land, sprouting where lightning hit, so similar to the stories her uncles told about the battle between gods and Titans. Where their blood had spilled, flowers followed.

She could remember reflecting on this before the air tingled around her. Her hair stood on edge and then everything was dark. When she came to, Jon Snow was standing over her. There was a familiar ache, a burning that she hadn't felt since her father's anger. Oh gods! Was she turning to char again? She touched her face, feeling for scars or burn. "What happened?"

OTA (Circe's House):

Mortality was a frail, fragile thing. When her father had let his heat nearly burn her to ashes, all it had taken was a simple salve and a few words of power for her brother to heal her completely. Now, she was reduced to lying in bed and waiting for her body to recover. Every small movement ached and her heart thrummed heavily in her chest. It was still beating. It was a consolation in the face of everything else.

Despite orders to stay in place, she often wandered outside to her garden, casting an eye to the sky. The storm was still fierce, Zeus was raging in the clouds. It wasn't difficult to determine where she was when lightning had hit her, a patch of blue lilies now growing over the charred earth. "Does my blood give them magic now?"

reprobate

WHO: Sirius Black
WHERE: Fountain & Bridge outside of town
WHEN: 26 June, 28 June
OPEN TO: ALL - Please mind the notes for the prompts
WARNINGS: Standard Padfoot warnings

It's a God-awful small affair;

Open to ONE thread, fcfs

Sleeping was always a bit of a risky prospect within the hallowed walls of Azkaban prison. If you were the steady sort and could dutifully ignore the constant wailing, it was one of the few activities a prisoner could manage with any consistency. The trouble was, the ratio of steady to unsteady wasn't exactly through the roof to start, and it was nearly guaranteed that whatever marbles you brought in were well lost within weeks.

And a bad dream, the sort that everyone in the place eventually fell into, night sweats and jolting awake to a heart hammering in your ears? Like honey to the Dementors. Good luck staying sane then.

As a matter of fact, Sirius reckoned he was the sanest person in the joint, which didn't say much for the general level of mental health in the British wizarding prison system. And it was only being a dog most of the time that allowed him that dubious distinction — With a few notable exceptions, he'd spent most of his life as the dodgiest person in the room.

The days ran together, but he got his hands on a newspaper every now and then, and was clear enough on the date. Nearly five years he'd been locked in this cage, fueled by a deep-seated anger, his savior the very thing that had allowed his nemesis to escape (relatively) unscathed. The wailing didn't bother him anymore, nor the fleas. He gladly ate what slop he was given, and kept a sliver of his strength up by tenacity alone. He stayed a mangey black dog more often than not, and his sleep was blissfully simple.

The shift now he felt before waking, the heaviness of human thought sliding into the watery place between sleep and awareness—

Wait, no. That was actual water.

Sputtering, he surfaced with a spate of violent coughing, his arms skinny and wobbling as they pulled him over the lip of the fountain and to the worn stones surrounding it. On hands and knees, he hacked up the rest of his dinner, indifferent to the mess as he blinked into the startling brightness of a clear summer day.

So much for being the sanest person in the place.

To the seat with the clearest view;

OTA

As unlikely as it had seemed even then, at first Sirius had thought he'd been victim of an apparating accident. Granted, he'd not been trying to disapparate, and certainly wouldn't have been aiming for someplace so far from England, but it wasn't unheard of.

Well, unheard of from inside bloody Azkaban, but not generally.

But apparently that wasn't it at all, it was something that was odd enough and inexplicable enough that two full days later, he was still not entirely certain he hadn't simply, finally had the mental break loads of people had been predicting for years. Not that he was complaining, really; if this was what a mental break was like, he reckoned he ought to have had one years back — Free food that tasted better than he remembered anything ever tasting, free lodging with an actual bed with an actual mattress, loads of sunshine, a giant box full of cigarettes with his name on it, along with the freedom to go wherever he liked... If Peter had been here to strangle when he'd first arrived, it would've been practically paradise.

Presently, he was seated on the edge of the wooden bridge that crossed the river just outside of town, his long legs straddling one of the supports for the railing, idly swinging heavy black boots over the water while he smoked a cigarette and just took it all in. It was loud and quiet here all at the same time, all the sweet, everyday noises he didn't realize he'd forgotten replacing the cacophony he left back in prison.

markwatney

WHO: Mark Watney
WHERE: 6I Inn front lawn
WHEN: 21 June 2018, afternoon/evening and onward
OPEN TO: ALL - MINGLE
NOTES: A few thinsgs: You may assume your character helped set up; There are tubers in pot with the red salt, negating the warmth effect; The list of of potluck dishes is here; The list of local provisions is here

The weather is great, the sun is starting to dip toward the horizon, and it's pleasantly mild. Time for an (extremely) old-fashioned low country boil.

We've got two small fire pits built out in front of the inn, each with a massive pot filled with loads of vegetables — corn, carrots, potatoes, onions — and of course the rainbow crabs Finnick and Annie discovered not long after we arrived here. We've even got salt, if you can believe it, although the red salt in this place is pretty spicy and usually makes me sweat, so I've only put it in the one pot, and then set a bowl of it out for garnishing.

Tables and chairs have been brought out from inside, a couple of them set aside specifically for piles of plates, bowls, cups and whatever potluck provisions the rest of the village brings.

collaronhisneck

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

Many Snuggles died to bring you this entertainment.

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

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

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

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

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

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

theluckygirl

WHO: Claire Temple
WHERE: Home, inn, hospital, then out in the boonies
WHEN: June 22nd to end of 25th (for Power Surge)
OPEN TO: All (but please note what day you'll be tagging Claire in the subject header)
WARNINGS: None really, but will update

[ 1st Day - Need one ]

Waking up that morning wasn't anything different than it used to be. Claire kept strictly to her routine, as most did in the village. She did a bit of yoga, then bathed and dressed and headed over to the inn to get some breakfast before checking in at the hospital. But before even leaving the quaint little house that she shared with Karen, a dull pain started at the top of her abdomen, which did catch her attention. It wasn't a normal pain, but one she chalked up to simply being more hungry than usual.

Only once she got to the inn and made some coffee, the pain amplified double what it was and within minutes tripled until Claire was doubled over in the dining room, arms wrapped around her with her forehead pressed down on the table. The nurse in her cancelled out what her symptoms could be, though it wasn't a radiating pain. It was constant. By the time she forced herself to get up, Claire was almost unable to walk, making it only as far as the inn doors before sliding to the floor.

[ 2nd Day - Hospital OTA ]

Without knowing what was exactly wrong, Claire stayed in a bed at the hospital and did as she was told. The pain was still severe and rendered the nurse-now-patient in an agony she never felt before. So when she wasn't staring at walls or wishing for a miracle to stop the pain, she was hoping someone would just put her out of her misery.

[ 3rd Day - Home (Evening) - OTA ]

Thankfully, by mid-morning, the pain began to dissipate and Claire went home where she continued to take it easy. The experience left her exhausted, but not so much to the point where she slept the day away.

Anyone passing by might find her on the porch with a cup of tea, but looking pretty well otherwise.

onen_i_estel

WHO: Aragorn
WHERE: Fountain, wandering the settlement, inn
WHEN: June 17th and 18th
OPEN TO: All
WARNINGS: None really, will update

[ Fountain - Owen ]

Losto.

It was the last thing Aragorn remembers her saying before drifting into peaceful slumber. The day had been a long one. The festivities commenced shortly after his coronation led into the early morning hours and it was a party Aragorn wished to remain to the end of; to spend that time among his those he cared for and respected. Yet it is also a time that he quietly reflects on everything that has happened in the six months since Frodo left the Shire with the One Ring.

It was all over now.

With the Ring now destroyed and Middle-earth at peace from the evil Sauron, it was time to rebuild, grow and become stronger again. Yes, it would take time, Aragorn knew and there would be times when the past would come back and the faces of those they lost would remind them of the sacrifices that had been made to help get them to where they were now.

But then that sense of calm and rest suddenly shifts and the darkness beneath Aragorn's lids fades into a wicked blackness. His head and stomach twist and turn and a weight presses into his chest making it impossible to breathe or even move. He felt like he was drowning.

Echuio.

Grey eyes flash open and limbs begin kicking until Aragorn breaches the surface and tries to make sense of the whirlwind of things that are simple not right. The odd weight on his back, the feeling of restraints under his arms and over his shoulders. The lightness of his clothes.. the whiteness of them.

Gasping, the Ranger clings to the edge of the fountain, pushing away the dark hair that stuck to his face and in front of his eyes before moving to climb out. And when the water is rubbed out of his eyes and he can finally see Aragorn notices that nothing about these surroundings looks familiar.

[Translation: "sleep" and "wake up" ]

[ Wandering 6I - OTA ]

Even after a day, Aragorn had trouble grasping this new situation; the world, one that bore some similarities to his but one which was largely different, in a way that is immensely uncomfortable. No one would suspect it beyond the slightly troubled expression of someone that was new.

The Ranger turned King walked slowly through the dirt streets of the settlement and stops occasionally to study the houses or other buildings. He can guess their purpose, for the most part, but the other ones are a little harder to distinguish. Until he sees a few people going into the inn.

So he follows.

frankensteinian

WHO: Erik Lehnsherr
WHERE: The storage rooms, the village headed for the woods
WHEN: June 16
OPEN TO: Anyone
WARNINGS: None yet

He had thought, for a few days, that perhaps they had just missed each other. They're both busy, after all, and they don't live in the same place. They hadn't seen each other every day anyway. But after days of not seeing her around, and seeing no signs of her at her house, Erik has been forced to the conclusion that Claire is now among those who have disappeared from this place. One more loss to add to the list. It hasn't gotten any easier to handle than it ever has been before, but at least this time he can't tear the world apart just by thinking about it. Good for the world, but bad for him.

It's a good thing he lives alone, because the chair that he sends flying across the room to crash into a wall could have hurt someone. Instead the only harm is to the chair itself as it splinters. It's the sight of them, and the awareness that now he doesn't have that chair for sitting in anymore, that gets through to him. There has to be a more productive way of dealing with this.

Whoever's behind this. They brought him here, they brought her here, they must have taken her away again. They're the ones he should mad at. There's just one problem: he doesn't know who they are. Or how to find them. Or what he could do about it even if he found one of them. But he's not a quitter; there have to be answers out there somewhere, and he won't find them by remaining here.

It only takes an hour. He empties out the backpack from his arrival and fills it back up again, with an extra set of clothes, a little food, blankets, any supplies he has lying around. Then he heads to the communal store rooms to see what he can find. No tent, but he grabs an Army tarp and a rope. He can rig something up with those. A survival kit, and a hatchet, for chopping wood. Everything he might need for a wilderness camping trip.

They've found places belonging to them before, though he hasn't heard of it happening since their arrival in this new place. There must still be places out there somewhere, and he's not returning to the village until he finds one. Does he actually know how to survive out in the woods for that long? No, but that's no concern to him. He'll do what he always does: wing it.

With his backpack loaded up and his arms full, he sets out in a random direction, headed for a place where he thinks something had been found before.

markwatney

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

pharmakis

WHO: Circe
WHERE: The village, the woods
WHEN: 6/3
OPEN TO: OTA
WARNINGS: Mentions of mortality and death

The Village

Fear was rare in the gods and it was always over the unknown. For Circe, the moment that fear came to her was not when she climbed out of the fountain and found herself in a different realm, it was when she heard the sound of her heart and felt blood racing through her veins. Mortality was a concept she had thought of and considered, but never experienced and not in such a jarring way. It was almost as though she were living Glaucus' tale, she fell asleep and was changed. But she knew the reason behind his transformation. Had she done this to herself?

As she had when she arrived on Aiaiai, she had needed a day to curl in her room and let her fears pass before she explored and accepted her home. This was no difference. She disappeared after her arrival, preferring the woods to the village. She had found a mossy bank surrounded by strange flowers, wrapped herself into a ball and slept.

When the morning came, she was dry, the strange bracelet was still on her wrist and she could still hear her heartbeat. This wasn't a dream and she couldn't allow herself to cry herself until she became a tree or stone. Resolved, Circe pushed herself from her hideaway and trailed back towards the village. There was more life now, something that she hadn't seen the night before. There were animals, the sound of others working and mortals tilling in the fields.

She watched at a distance for a time, trying to decide whether this was some set prepared by the Olympians or some new punishment devised for her by the Fates. Had Aeetes cast some spell? It seemed unlikely and her intuition said no. With that simple reassurance, she pushed herself to find an empty home, assuming that it was for them to choose, ready and prepared for them. There was one near the riverbank that she liked, close to what looked like a Mill.

It was empty and dirty, unlike the mansion she had been given during her exile, though this meant little. It gave her something to focus on instead. She pulled her pant legs up to her knee and tied her hair into a loose braid, ready to work. The rooms needed dusting and there were paw prints from animals, she would have to find something to hunt the predators (as well as provide company.) Much of the plumbing was foreign to her, but that didn't matter in the moment.

She took the linens from the bedroom, washing them in the nearby river. There was a stone she could use to beat the sheets with, but this needed someone else to help her lay out the linens against larger stones. She scanned the path, curious and hesitant. Still, being shy and hanging her head would do her no good now. Summoning that same courage her powers had given her before, she called out to a passing mortal. "Could you come help me?" Not a demand, that was where the gods would mock her. "I need another set of hands if I hope to get these dry before the sun goes down."

The Forest

Her second day in the village was to clean her home, the third was to rebuild the garden that she had left behind in Aiaiai. She hadn't taken the time to explore the woods after she arrived, wanting to rest and let everything sink in (though she still had no answers). Most of the plants in the village gardens and fields were familiar to her, as hundreds of cultivating them allowed. But there were different flowers and vines in the forest that she didn't recognize. They didn't sing to her as her garden had, another unfriendly reminder of the magic she had lost. The creatures were different as well. There were no boars or wolves to keep her company, only strange amalgamations of two different types of animals. It left her questioning whether this was Zeus' personal playground, the place where his monsters could grow, but that seemed unlikely.

There were hostile creatures and others that were hesitant, but a few friendlier animals approached her. By the time of late afternoon, she had found a small collection of beasts to take back with her. Something that was pink and resembled a type of sheep, an animal that jumped as high as a goat but looked close to an elk, a weird crocodile/dog mesh and a cat with peacock feathers. They regarded her in different terms, but they were enticed enough to follow, both by treats, kind words and simply curiosity.

With a full basket, she was nearing the forest's edge, animals in tow. It was only the sudden snapping of a branch that nearly made them all disperse and run back into the wild. "No, don't be afraid!" She turned, dropping her basket as she knelt to try and lure them back towards her. "It's only a mortal. There's nothing to fear. They won't hurt you." She looked over her shoulder towards the figure. "Stay still. They don't know to trust you yet."

Sixth Iteration

Logs

Entries tagged with circe: circe

Credits & Style Info

[MINGLE] PLOT: Down the Tubes: Alarm

[MINGLE] PLOT: Siren's Call

[MINGLE] EVENT: Birthday Party

001 – Trading Hells [OPEN]

[MINGLE] Wendi-go-go to the inn

(no subject)

The Wrath of Zeus

[OTA] Is there life on Mars?

It's a God-awful small affair;

To the seat with the clearest view;

[MINGLE] Crab Boil

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

death warmed over

ni leithiad

Is this what you want of me?

[MINGLE] Just don't touch the puffball

" I closed my eyes. If I had been a mortal, I would have heard the beating of my heart."