markwatney: (004)
[personal profile] markwatney
WHO: Mark Watney
WHERE: 6I Inn
WHEN: 19 Oct 2017
OPEN TO: ALL Closed to new threads


I think most people have an unspoken list of things they intend to do when they have the time and inclination. Mine I usually actually write down, even in a place like this where paper and writing implements are scarce — Days with much downtime don't happen often, and my list is embarrassingly long. It helps to have a note so I can look everything over and figure out what's most pressing. I managed to get off of Mars this way, so I figure it's not a bad system.

Today, though, my choice was made for me. I woke up to two things: A box with my name on it, and a sky full of snow. Fortunately, all of the harvesting had been done on the less cold-hardy plants already, and unless this cold snap dragged on into something long-term, it would be good for what we picked later in the season. Sweetens the berries.

I've got plenty of ways I could fill a free day, but the snow and that mystery box left little question what needed to be top of the list: Taking a census before winter fully moved in. As far as I could tell, while various people in various places took notes about events and connections, we'd never had one central, definitive list of everyone in the community, where they were living and how long they'd been around. With a second village in the mix now, this information was more important than ever. A proper census would give us the tools to start to prepare for winter in earnest — Not just in predicting how much food and firewood would be needed, but what roads needed to be cleared, medical preparations and more.

The box I mentioned before, it helped with this. It was full of items that were a huge help in getting organized: Pencils, binders, blessed paper. And chalk. There was only one place to use that.

After carefully copying the information that had been collected on the blackboard at the Inn, I wash down both sides and jumped right in: At the top of the outfacing side, I make three headings:

Name - Residence - Apx. Arrival


Beneath this, I start with my own info:

M. Watney - W. outskirts, blue - 1yr, 4 mo


"Why haven't we named the damn streets yet?" I mutter, and then began writing in what information I know on the rest of the villagers, leaving blank spaces for others to fill in next time they're at the Inn. But seriously, though, one more thing added to my to-do list: Street names and house numbers.
learntthehardway: (6)
[personal profile] learntthehardway
WHO: Diana Prince and Open
WHERE: 7I area
WHEN: September 30th
OPEN TO: Anyone in the area
WARNINGS: None as of right now.


Diana had heard that there was another area, had heard that it was pretty much just the same as the original area. She had been meaning to check it out, to see what the deal was with this new area, but time had slipped away from her - besides, she hadn't wanted to go too far from Steve just in case he had a relapse with the illness he'd had.

But, when she'd heard that the new area had been overrun by foxes, she'd had to go and check it out for herself. She'd left Steve a short note, just to let him know where she was, because she knew he'd be worried if she didn't and knowing him, he'd set off to find her and make sure that she was doing okay. That's just the type of man he was and it was one of the reasons she loved him.

With everything all set, she'd packed her pack with water and some sandwiches and off she'd gone.

It took a little longer than she'd planned to get there. And at first, she wasn't even sure that she'd arrived at the correct place, only because it pretty much looked like the other area - though the fountain... That was strange, it looked like it had smashed or neglected. She shook her head and moved on.

No foxes. She peered around, peeking under things as she moved through the area and yet there wasn't any signs of the so called foxes. Maybe people had been mistaken. Maybe they'd only thought that they'd seen them. Or maybe they'd just returned from wherever they had come from. It was odd and for a moment she felt a flash of disappointment. She'd missed the foxes.

Sighing, she made her way back to the crumbling fountain and took a seat on an edge that was still intact and began to dig through her pack for the sandwiches.
girlwednesday: (Sidelook)
[personal profile] girlwednesday
WHO: Felicity Smoak
WHERE: The Village
WHEN: Sept 8-9
OPEN TO: Everyone in the village
WARNINGS: There should be none



It had been a couple of weeks since she and Oliver had pulled themselves out of the fountain in the middle of, well. Nowhere. A week had gone by before Oliver had let her leave the woods and moved them into a house on the outskirts of, well, nowhere. The packs they'd been given didn't give much in the ways of clues and Oliver didn't want Felicity showing herself to too many people unless it was necessary and he hadn't yet deemed it necessary.

By the beginning of the third week, Felicity herself deemed it necessary.

A lack of technology was one thing, but short of nagging Oliver into submission (not likely), all she could do was wait until he'd left to scout yet another something in another place and then walk out the front door. She knew he didn't expect her to do it, figured she'd still be taking him at his word that hiding away from everyone who might have answers would be best for them, but she was done with that.

Done hiding. She wanted more answers, more interaction, and figured that at least if someone killed her, at least there'd be an end to the wondering.

So, it was about ten o'clock in the morning on a Saturday when a woman in (mostly) white scrubs makes her way into town and starts looking around. She's not new, but she certainly looks it.


[OOC: Feel free to run into Felicity anywhere your character might be!]
theoldlie: (drown in your eyes)
[personal profile] theoldlie
WHO: Steve Trevor
WHERE: Diana's House
WHEN: August 22nd
OPEN TO: Diana Prince
WARNINGS: Mild sickness


It's been a long few days that have started to blur together for Steve. He'd watched men get struck down with the flu in between trips to the front and missions behind enemy lines, but he'd never been one of the unlucky ones. Apparently, that's just because his luck has been saving it all up for here. He suspects it had been that lunch where he'd picked it up, seeing as he'd started to feel rough that day, but then the fever had come and the rash. He'd spent days hallucinating wildly, not entirely sure what was real anymore.

He kept waking up, lost, not sure where he was, convinced that he was dead and in heaven (when he saw Diana) or hell (when he had to drag his limp, lifeless body out towards the springs, which were slowly managing to make him better). It's been hell, but after two trips out there, he's finally feeling like a person again, even if that person has more rash than actual healthy skin.

It means that he's been neglecting finding food and other supplies for himself and Diana, which makes him feel guilty. His energy is so low, though, that all he can manage is a few flowers and herbs, both separated and tied together with twine. Stumbling up towards the house Diana's claimed as theirs (something that's so wonderful that he needs to be healthy again so he can properly appreciate). He almost trips face-first into the door, sweating bullets, and stumbles forward, only stopping himself from taking a feverish dive into the ground because of the door handle he manages to grab at the last minute.

"Diana?" he calls out roughly, trying not to crumple either bundle in his hands. "Are you here?"
lastofthekellys: (rabbit and dandelion stew)
[personal profile] lastofthekellys
WHO: Kate Kelly
WHERE: The Inn
WHEN: 15th August | Noon
OPEN TO: E V E R Y O N E
WARNINGS: N/A
NOTES: All sections are completely free for all! You can handwave your character helping out or thread it out, or just jump in to them eating. All characters are ICly invited, as they are every day. In light of the illness plot, feel free to use this post as an excuse for your characters to catch ill or spread the plague around.
STATUS: Open and ongoing!




Rain, hail, shine; blizzard, earthquake or lightning storm, the meals at the Inn have continued. People can, and do, wander in at breakfast and supper - as long as the stores are enough for three meals, anyway - but the main meal remains the one at midday. It's this meal which is the main event that Kate structures her day around, making sure volunteers arrive to help prepare, serve, and then clean; double-checking that there is enough food for all, that stores aren't too low and that fresh greens have been gathered. With the village chickens now producing eggs regularly there's a welcome addition of protein to the foodstuffs, and by now there are a number of experienced cooks in the village. At least, experienced in the ways of cooking communally and with what's on hand.

The main room of the Inn is swept, dusted; cutlery and bowls, plates are laid out on the sideboards in piles to be collected as people need. Everything is as it should be, even if some people - Kate included - are feeling a bit under the weather. But that's to be expected, isn't it? Everyone gets run down, has a day or two of feeling off colour. Certainly, it's nothing to worry about.

So come on in, help at the kitchen or pull up a chair at a table and enjoy some warm food and company while the outside confusion stays firmly outside.
viridescere: (contemplative)
[personal profile] viridescere
WHO: Oliver Queen
WHERE: fountain, 6I woods, border of 6I village
WHEN: 13 August - 16 August
OPEN TO: All (one locked starter)
WARNINGS: TBD



fountain (locked to Felicity)

Oliver doesn't expect the water. He's made his way onto a boat to try and save William from Chase, to try and make a play to save someone from a madman who doesn't play by the rules and he hopes that his team can figure out a way to survive on their own. They're savvy about this stuff now and if the island is rigged to blow, there's nobody better than Team Arrow to figure out how to defuse the situation both figuratively and literally. Oliver puts his faith in that because, otherwise, he's had to make one selfish choice to prevent the consequences of another and he doesn't like being put in that position.

He's not the same man he was ten years ago. He's not the same man he was five years ago. He's someone who weighs consequences, who knows that a final solution has lasting effects and that he cannot be judge, jury and executioner in all instances. He has to put his faith in the law and the blind scales of justice; he's different now than he used to be. He doesn't have to bear it all alone.

Still, he doesn't expect the water. He'd been int he boat moments before, making a play to save his son over everyone else and now he's in water and being pushed upward somehow. Oliver rides the swell, too out of it to really comprehend how he'd gotten from the boat to overboard and when he opens his eyes, he's shocked not to feel the salt of the ocean stinging them. Is that possible? None of this seems possible or likely.

When he breaks free, it takes him a few seconds to get his bearings. There's a fountain, a little park. He pushes himself up and over the lip of the fountain and collapses onto the ground, coughing up the last dredges of water burning his lungs.

This is not Lian Yu.

woods

As soon as he gets some semblance of self, Oliver heads for cover. If this is Lian Yu or another prison like it, he doesn't want to see other people until he knows exactly what to expect. He's not armed and he only has his brain and his fists to get him out of any trouble. While that's more than sufficient in most situations, he doesn't want to force an encounter if he doesn't have to. He wants to spend some time in the woods, wants to see the comings and goings, and then he wants to make a plan.

He'd bolted from the fountain to the woods almost immediately and luckily they're thick enough to provide good cover. He's found enough to eat by foraging but that's going to run out soon and without something to hunt with or clean with, he's not going to survive for long. He needs food, eventually, but he has a little time before he has to start making decisions on his belly.

When he hears a rustling in the woods beside him, he stops short and takes cover behind a tree, trying to see who or what it is. He's not exposing himself unless he has to; he's going to take any measures necessary to keep himself safe.

outskirts of village

After three days, his curiosity gets the better of him and he draws up closer to the buildings that serve as some sort of town center. Oliver has watched people come and go long enough to realize that this isn't a prison in the traditional sense. If it's a prison camp, that's one thing, but there's no shackles from what he can see and people can travel freely. There's nothing inherently dangerous, either, from what he's seen and he's hungry enough and desperate enough to draw close to the village and try to decide if he wants to join their society.

Who is the leader? Who are they loyal to? Is this another one of Adrian Chase's tricks? Oliver doesn't know. He can only trust in himself, for now, and anyone he knows from home. There's nothing else he can trust until he's vetted it with his own eyes and for now, he's going to be cautious. He doesn't want to reveal too much of himself or his skill - that's a great way to get a target on his head. Still, he steps out into the village and greets the first person he sees, tries to pretend like he hasn't been there hiding in the woods for three days.

It's a step.
theoldlie: (drown)
[personal profile] theoldlie
WHO: Steve Trevor
WHERE: Fountain / Center of Town
WHEN: July 25
OPEN TO: All
WARNINGS: n/a


drowning

He can't breathe. He can't breathe. At first, he thinks that obviously he can't breathe, the fire and the smoke from the explosion are causing him to experience his last breaths in a way that mimics drowning, the chemicals from Dr. Poison's vials clouding his lungs and making it feel like he can't get a breath. Only, then he opens his eyes to water surrounding him and realizes that no, this isn't the plane, he's actually drowning.

Again.

This time, he's far more conscious than the last and something like a current in the water is pushing him upwards, though it's like there's a block in his mind that's preventing him from getting past the flinch of expecting fire and poison. With one last strong kick, he surfaces and hauls in oxygen in panicked, heavy hauls, the breath he never expected to take again. He reaches for his revolver, out of habit, but there's nothing at hand on him beyond the straps of a bag and a pair of clothes better suited to the hospital than war. Grasping the stones, he feels a little too unsteady to haul himself over the edge just yet, but he digs his fingernails into stonework and pries himself up until he can roll to the ground, collapsing in a wet heap.

He's breathing. He's ... alive? Steve can't see how that's possible, not unless he failed his mission, and if he'd done that, then there are bigger things to worry about. He needs to get up and find out what happened. He needs to find Chief or Charlie or Sami or --

Steve closes his eyes and thinks about Diana, wishing they'd had more time. Maybe he's managed to get lucky and get himself out a tight mess (though he hasn't got the first idea how), but that doesn't mean that he gets to stop working. Hauling himself to a sitting position, he clambers to his feet when he sees someone passing in the distance through blurred vision and wet lashes. "Hey," he calls, coughing up residual water. "Wait, wait, just hold a second, please," he adds, straining to get his legs to work, but he's still so shaky, the explosion is still so fresh in his mind.

bearings

It's sort of like going back in time to his childhood, Steve thinks as he maps his way around the village, using the measure of his step in order to gauge distances and horizons as best as he can. The houses look strangely unfamiliar, built with materials that Steve doesn't really recognize, but there's common buildings that he can pick out and name with ease. He ventures towards the mill and the inn, takes his time with a few of the other public structures, but eventually, makes his way back to the fountain to take inventory of what's in his bag.

He doesn't find any weapons, which is the first thing he's looking for. After so many years working with the BEF under their intelligence arm, Steve's not entirely sure how comfortable he feels being unarmed, which is something he'll have to fix soon enough. Until then, his own two fists will need to do the trick.

There's a whole wall of things he's not thinking about right now, like the part where he's probably dead and he probably burned up in a haze of poison and smoke, but somehow he's managed to come out of it with a body and a pair of gray hospital scrubs? That's what Steve doesn't understand, not to mention if this is supposed to be heaven or hell, he'd expect something out of it.

Adjusting on his knees as he starts to repack his bag, he glances at his surroundings again and tries to decide which way to go. Without a compass, he'll have to go the old-fashioned way, but with the sun high in the sky, he figures he's got time enough to choose. "North," he says aloud, squinting and trying to get his bearings. "Time to head North."

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