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.
zomboligist: (like please bitch)
[personal profile] zomboligist
WHO: Ravi Chakrabarti
WHERE: Under a delicious tree (an evil, delicious tree)
WHEN: October 17th
OPEN TO: All!
WARNINGS: Ferrets, mischief, swearing


There is a ferret currently pawing at a sweater vest near one of the trees on the outskirts of town.

This isn't a sentence that Ravi would've ever assembled prior to this place, and yet, now it feels commonplace. If he weren't currently in a little ferret body, he might even feel compelled to squeak about how this place is awful. No. Wait, squeaking is for right now, which is what he's doing. It's all that bloody apple's fault for looking so green and perfect, and if someone's going to change you into a ferret after a few bites, he thinks he ought to be warned.

Of course, right now, maybe his priorities are a little off. First, there had been the immediate 'oh, fuck, I'm a ferret', and yet, after that, Ravi didn't think about switching back instantly. No, instead, he's far more concerned about the fact that he'd been wearing one of his best shirts and sweater vests and they're currently all in a pile where someone might step on them or, worse, might take them for their own. That won't do.

This is how there's come to be a tiny little angry Ravi-ferret pawing and clawing at the sweater vest to try and figure out a way to drag it with him back to his and Major's place. No opposable thumbs rule out hands, which means that teeth are next. That is, teeth are next until heavy footsteps and a looming shadow above him makes Ravi realize just how small he is and just how much he currently detests that stupid apple for making him like this.

What if it's permanent? What if he has rabies?

What if their dog eats him?

Letting out a panicked and angry squeak, Ravi clambers to protect his clothes ever the more, while simultaneously hiding behind one of his boots in case he ends up accidentally pelted by an over-eager kick.
onlyeverdoubted: (rogue one)
[personal profile] onlyeverdoubted
WHO: Bodhi
WHERE: Around the forest, his house, wandering random paths
WHEN: 10/11-10/12, general second half of the month
OPEN TO: All
WARNINGS: (Please warn for adult content or anything triggering)


And the creepers of the ivy and the bending boughs of yew. )
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.
3ofswords: (Default)
[personal profile] 3ofswords
WHO: Kira Akiyama
WHERE: House 42
WHEN: September 23rd
OPEN TO: Mark Watney
WARNINGS: N/A


The longer he stays in the main village, the more it feels like a mistake. He should be running again, he should be fending for himself against the foxes--and if he loses everyone he knows in the meantime, so be it. From the sound of Margaery’s panicked prediction, he has worse things to worry about.

Margaery’s prediction is its own problem.

Kira walks up the porch, leafy plants brushing at his knees. For a moment he tries to focus on that: the itch and slide, the wood with its slight give beneath his feet, the grain against his heels. The world has a texture and a scent, is firm beneath him, is sharp and real around him. Mark and Helen live about as far removed from the village as he does, and this long after the sun goes down, it’s quiet. He isn’t standing saturated in the panic of a gathering, or trying to cook through the hunger of a dozen early risers.

He’s alone enough on the porch that it’s just his own fear, his own exhaustion. In one hand is the folded pages of notes, Mark’s name across the outer edge, and he stoops down to shove it under the door. It’s been more than a month since the ability came back, but for ever brief reprieve, it’s gotten worse, not better. He’s done his best to track the timing in the notes, explain the severity, own up to the fact that Margaery’s new burden might be from a vial with his name on it.

He doesn’t expect Mark to fix it, but someone needs to know. If only to excuse Kira’s desire to hibernate under the dog until it’s all over.

When he gets up, he stumbles enough to catch himself on the door with a dull thud. It doesn’t seem loud enough to warrant a hasty retreat, he takes another moment at the bottom of the steps. There will be quiet and calm at home, but it won’t smell this green, and there’s another walk through occupied houses between him and his bed.
3ofswords: (baleful)
[personal profile] 3ofswords
WHO: Kira Akiyama
WHERE: House 19
WHEN: September 17
OPEN TO: Credence Barebone
WARNINGS: Usual warnings for Credence and his history; abuse, etc


Credence is still here.

He knows as much from Bodhi. If he just stays on the porch, Credence will either come out the door, or come home. The day he spent waiting for Tim to come home had just gotten him an armful of distressed goat, some new shirts for her to chew on as he carried her to the pens. It’s a thing that hovers overhead, the surprising weight of that loss. He’s going to lie to himself a little longer, however long it takes to keep it crashing down.

When he went to the church, someone else had taken it over. Sonny had--done something stupid, while he was gone, and no one’s really seen him since.

Everyone’s going to leave you.

He hadn’t needed it said aloud: he knew. Maybe that’s why he'd left first, dragged himself across the gap in the wall and taken care of himself, by himself. It’s going to be like that sometimes. It’s going to be like that a lot of the time, probably. If he’d stayed, the only difference would be the note he’d left people on.

Kira isn’t going to let that be the case with Credence.

The sun climbs higher in the sky, and he winds up dozing, back to the post, body strewn across the top step for someone to trip over. He’ll go three verbal rounds with Graves if he has to: he’s not going anywhere until he sees Credence with his own eyes. Until he gets to explain.

Maybe it’s a shift in the air, maybe it’s a shadow across his waist--it isn’t anything else when Hoshi ruffles up against his jaw, and Kira blinks all the way awake for someone’s approach. “Credence,” he asks, voice soft and drowned in sleep. Lifting a hand against the slant of the sun, he squints at the sloping silhouette. “Credence,” he affirms, pulling himself to sit forward with his feet on the steps below. “You’re home.”

The sigh pushing through the words is entirely relieved.
thekittenqueen: ([Margaery] Looks To (Gentle))
[personal profile] thekittenqueen
WHO: Margaery Tyrell
WHERE: The Village
WHEN: 9/19
OPEN TO: All
WARNINGS: Visions of things that could be triggering



The specimen room hadn't left her mind, neither had the collection of thoughts and worries it had created in her. As much as she wanted to brush it aside, there were too many questions about what was happening to them. Whether or not it had been an illusion or some game. Then there was the deeper fear, rooted and coiled about her mind. What if none of this was real? The vials, the samples, it was of them, of all of them. Her analytical mind didn't want to take everything at face value, but fear far too often took control.

Her only means of escaping those thoughts was to focus on something else, specifically the ability that seemed to emerge out of nowhere. Perhaps once she could have brushed it aside as nothing, but these visions were coming true. Despite the headache it could cause her, she found herself trying to summon one, staring off into the distance as she mentally struggled to unleash the ability, if only to control it.

It was why she was standing in the open field, just beyond the ruined houses. Her eyes locked ahead at the forest. This was where she had seen the barn in her vision, the first of the images to appear. Perhaps if she concentrated enough, she could find the will to bring those images back. Her head was starting to ache, something that for a moment gave hope, until she realized she was concentrating too hard.

Frustrated, she placed a hand against her face and turned, ramming into someone behind her. "Forgive me." She let her hand fall, a weary smile on her face. "I didn't hear you come up."
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.
3ofswords: (Default)
[personal profile] 3ofswords
WHO: Kira Akiyama
WHERE: House 39
WHEN: September 15 [predated]
OPEN TO: Bodhi Rook
WARNINGS: N/A



Read More )
3ofswords: (Default)
[personal profile] 3ofswords
WHO: Kira Akiyama
WHERE: 7I; out along the northern shore of the lake.
WHEN: September 10th (predated)
OPEN TO: Tim Gutterson
WARNINGS: Probable NSFW content



Read More )
elderflowermacarons: (glower)
[personal profile] elderflowermacarons
WHO: Taako
WHERE: A fountainy arrival followed by some pacing around town and barging into the inn
WHEN: 8/22-23
OPEN TO: All!
WARNINGS: None, will add



and that is beautiful )
theintercessor: (Default)
[personal profile] theintercessor
WHO: Jude Sullivan
WHERE: The fields (behind the Town Hall)
WHEN: August 18, Afternoon
OPEN TO: ALL, Mingle style post for the Specimen Room plot
WARNINGS: See the Plot Post for details of the Specimen Room and its contents


Jude's glad to have the meeting out of doors, with or without the illness to prompt it. The cave-in hadn't scared him out of the canyon's cracks and crevices, but the room he'd found with Margaery might, and he needs every helping factor he can get to keep himself steady through the meeting. Public speaking is less a great fear than a thing he's never cared to do, but public speaking on a subject like this might prove too much, and if he pitches over again in front of someone, he's going to throw himself in the fountain and never come back out.

He'd gotten some help to carry the board out of the inn, tacking up fresh sheets of paper to the back of it. While others gathered those villagers well enough to come out to the fields, he'd done his best to recreate his and Margaery's view of the room through the glass, the layout of the coolers, the shape of the machinery at its center. Next to that, he'd tried to draw a rough overview of the room--what shape it might have from above, the placement of the door, the curve of the tunnel that Margaery had led him down.

As far as he'd noticed, there was no way around the rest of the cave to get at the door, but he hadn't been very inclined to look. When he pulls back from the board, charcoal staining his fingers, his brow where he'd wiped back his hair, he turns to find a crowd gathering behind him.

When it comes to the actual explanations, he struggles a bit to project his voice, but the words are there when he looks for them. He sticks to using the drawings to present the information, pointing to each element in turn. "There're electrical lights, florescent ones, in the room and the coolers, so I guess they're working too. And the glass was--uh, well, it was thick enough that knocking into it didn't break anything."  He drops his gaze to his feet, hiding behind his hair at the memory.



[OTA within the post or tag others. Please indicate in top levels if you do not allow threadjacking, or if you have specific warnings for threads. Use the link above for a complete list of details about the Specimen Room; ask questions, or assume that the details have been given in your threads!]
remporter: <user name=bangparty> (ne font plus pleurer mes yeux)
[personal profile] remporter
WHO: René Vallières
WHERE: The fountain, the inn, 7thi's peach trees
WHEN: 18th
OPEN TO: Open to all, with closed prompts for Neil and Aurora
WARNINGS: Talk of war, nazis, ptsd probably.


elle était si tranquile, cette révolution )
3ofswords: (resolute)
[personal profile] 3ofswords
WHO: Kira Akiyama
WHERE: House 39, the Spring, House 52
WHEN: August 21 
OPEN TO: Credence, comment starter for Tim
WARNINGS: Grief, blood, interpersonal conflict; NSFW content with Tim


read more )

zomboligist: (oookay)
[personal profile] zomboligist
WHO: Ravi Chakrabarti
WHERE: Hospital / Casa di Helen & Mark
WHEN: Anytime between August 7 - 10
OPEN TO: Mark, Helen, Kira, Major
WARNINGS: n/a


It ought to be strange, really, taking your best friend from a world before and hiking him around for all your new friends to meet, but Ravi is somewhat determined to make sure that the people he feels closest to here really do like Major, especially seeing as he's going to end up picking up his life and moving in with him, mainly in an attempt to reclaim some of home again, but also because it's Major. How can he not move in with him and have incredible roomie shenanigans, again?

"They're going to love you," he vows, promising Major like he's the one who needs the pep talk instead of Ravi who needs a little bit of encouragement to sort of get over the fear that any of his friends are going to meet Major and, well, and not like him. He takes Major by the shoulders and stares at him like he's about to give him some sort of sports-related pep talk.

He doesn't, though, mainly because it would just make Major cringe and then Ravi would cringe with embarrassment and generally, it just wouldn't go over well. There's no time like the present, though, which is why he steers Major in the direction of the door, one hand draped around his shoulders like he's proudly showing off his latest creation (even if that sort of mad science has never been his bag of cats), plastering a broad smile on his face.

"Guess who has two thumbs and found a best friend?" he says, gesturing to himself, then to Major, then quickly back to himself. "I'd like to introduce you to Major Lilywhite. Yes, that is his name," Ravi says. "It's an unfortunate American thing, I think."
posilutely: (029)
[personal profile] posilutely
WHO: Queenie Goldstein
WHERE: Various; see below
WHEN: ditto
OPEN TO: 1 locked, 2 OTA
WARNINGS: n/a


House #7 - Mid-Late July - Locked to Sonny


It's the locket that confirms it.

When it had first turned up, Tina hadn't been sure if she wanted to trust it, but she'd taking to wearing it anyway. Just like she'd done at home, there wasn't hardly a time when it wasn't around her neck. Queenie's been wandering the village for a couple days now, and seeing it laying there on Tina's vanity table is like a punch right to the gut, her last bit of hope swept clean away in the matter of a moment.

And with Jacob apparently gone, too, it just makes a sad sort of sense, even if it makes her heart hurt to think about.

From the first time she'd felt that tingle of worry, Queenie's been telling herself it's probably better. If Tina's got out, if she's got home, it's gonna be better for them all -- It has to be, right? If anybody can figure out how to bust them out of this place, it's Teenie.

And if they've made her forget, well... maybe that's better too. She hated it here.

But telling herself these things just ain't the same as believing them, and sitting on the front steps of Sonny's house in her new dress, she can't keep herself from crying.


Behind House #17 - Mid-Late August - OTA (3 thread limit)


The funny thing about Tina being gone is that Queenie knows exactly what she'd say about it: That Queenie oughta stay busy and just get on with it. And sure, there's days when she just wants to fall right down onto the floor and stay there wallowing in how empty the house feels now, or how she accidentally made lunch for two, but that voice in the back of her head is awful quick to give her a kick in the pants, just like Teen herself would do.

Some days it's tough to find enough to fill the day, though, and she's been trying some things she probably would be better off to just let alone.

Today, it's splitting firewood. To say she's awful at it without wand would be the understatement of at least two centuries.

She got herself an axe from the inn, but she can't seem to hit the wood at the right angle or hard enough. She's pinged herself with bits of bark at least 20 times, and in the hour she's been out behind the house, she's got exactly 3 pieces of firewood to show for it, and one of them barely counts, if she's honest about it.


7I Shore - Mid-Late August - OTA (3 thread limit)


All of a sudden, they've got themselves an ocean, and all Queenie can do is stare at it.

The beach ain't much good for sunbathing with all its little pebbles, and it takes her a good fifteen minutes just to find a place to put her towel down. But it's the water that's the bigger problem, lapping softly at the shore like it couldn't just swallow her right up if it wanted.

Dressed in her cut-offs and sleeveless shirt, she wades in to her ankles but then just stands there, staring first at the wide, hazy horizon, and then down at the water swirling around her feet.
3ofswords: (Default)
[personal profile] 3ofswords
WHO: Kira Akiyama
WHERE: Tim's house, general places in the canyon
WHEN: After Kira and Sonny pick peaches, August 14
OPEN TO: Tim Gutterson
WARNINGS: NSFW content is always possible, nothing immediately planned though.


It's been a couple of days since he put himself in Tim's path, or let himself be at the house to answer any calls.  The orientation house provides a distraction, a place most people wouldn't know him to be, but much as he's avoided the village at large before, he's never avoided Tim.  They'd spent entire days together after the quake, caginess washed away in light of Kira's cold, and after that week--well, he wasn't about to get kicked out of bed to walk home in the dark.

But now his power is back in pieces.  But now Margaery had picked up one of them, and given him a vision to worry about.  

The house felt easier to deal with.  It was down to just him, putting it together, and if something was going to happen to him, he'd need to get it as far along as possible for the next person.  Infrastructure is important, beds for new people, maps, a dedicated face and voice to deliver the most current information available.  Far too important to set aside for visiting some guy he's been having a good time with, so long as everything stays neatly in its lines.

He's as guilty of blurring them as anyone, but even that would be fine, no way of knowing how Tim feels about it unless he says something, and they'd all get home to hell frozen over before that happened.  But walking with Sonny had reminded him--connections are important.  Routines, projects, but also the little things.  A person to share a bed, a face you like the day better for having seen.  If Sonny is starting to slip in a place like this, there's no telling how much better Tim might fare.

As if to press the point about everyone's sanity, the box he'd taken to fill with rumored peaches had shown up that morning, another bottle of Grey Goose and a box of tea.  Knocking on Tim's door in the waning afternoon, he has the cardboard box looped under one arm, the bottle peeking over the edge, the space around it piled with his half of the haul.

It's a beat before Kira stops waiting for Tim to break the days of silence he himself created, remembers who he is, and shoves the door open without waiting for an answer.  "Come on," he calls to the house at large, "I brought you something."
ottimismo: (that god is love)
[personal profile] ottimismo
WHO: Sonny Carisi
WHERE: House 11
WHEN: Forward dated to after the peach tree is discovered (will update with specific date later maybe?)
OPEN TO: Kira Akiyama
WARNINGS: Sonny's slowly enveloping depression and discussion of it



It feels as if the sun is up far to early, but in reality, Sonny's just stayed in bed far too late. Not slept, necessarily, but lay on top a nest of covers watching the crack in the curtains grow brighter and brighter. The moments pass, and he could probably lay here all day long, stubble scratching his cheek and neck, messy hair flopped in front of his eyes. He could lay here all day and wouldn't care, and ultimately, that's what finally pulls him out of bed. He's not blind to the hole he seems to be slipping into. It's daunting to fight it, but he's still doing it.

His morning routine is many hours late, not to mention painstaking, but Sonny drags him through each step of it. Washing his face, getting his teeth as clean as he can, smoothing his hair back, shaving his face. He dresses in overalls because they're the only thing that's clean, and begins to make his way to the inn.

First, he has to round up something to eat, but then he'll go to the church to pray. Praying doesn't seem to make a difference these days either, but he's holding onto his faith like it's all he has, the only thing keeping him afloat.

Between a few houses, back behind the inn, movement catches his eye. A bungalow that was once unoccupied looks like it's being fixed up. Sonny can only assume somebody new has shown up and is figuring out how to get their feet back under them. He likes new people — to because he likes seeing other people trapped here, but because the new ones usually stay determined to get back home for a little while. They're not as jaded. Sonny's not sure when he became one of the jaded ones, but he certainly doesn't like it.

He's nearly to the porch when someone steps outside again, and Sonny finds that it's not someone new at all. He blinks, surprised. "Kira? What're you doing back here?"
fishermansweater: (Jacket side-eye)
[personal profile] fishermansweater
WHO: Finnick Odair + his peacock
WHERE: The 6I park
WHEN: August 3
OPEN TO: EVERYONE
WARNINGS: Baby peacock being ridiculous. Probably mentions of mental health and anxiety later on.



he's a peacock, a total preener --> fountain park


There's been an escape.

There'd been another aftershock, and after he'd calmed Annie down, Finnick had gone outside to check on the birds, only to find another hole in the fence. He'd thought he'd patched it up before he'd gone back to Annie, but he's come out again to find that Star, the oldest of the peacocks, is on the other side of the fence, and making his determined way down the path towards the village.

Finnick curses and turns, rapidly, to pull open the door of the house and shout in to Annie.

"Star's gotten out, can you check the fence?"

He doesn't wait for an answer, only hopes she's heard him before he's off down the road after the blue and brown bird. Hearing Finnick behind him prompts the bird to take off, skimming low over the bushes at the side of the road and leaving Finnick to chase after him.

They're halfway to the village by the time Star lands again, and the bird doesn't seem inclined to let Finnick catch up. Every time he gets close enough to reach out to catch the bird, Star flutters away out of reach and continues on down the path. They've made it all the way to the park before Star finally stops trying to actually run away and starts contentedly pecking at the grass, looking for something to eat. Finnick gives up the pursuit, too, and sits down on the edge of the fountain.

Perhaps he should consider trying to make some sort of leash or harness for the bird so he can't get away. He always carries some of the nylon cable he'd acquired around with him, so he'd be able to, but he's not sure about whether it's even possible to leash a bird. The propaganda films at home about agriculture in District 10 had never said much about poultry.

While Finnick watches, Star stares at the fountain, then turns around, slowly, holding out its wings, tail held straight up in the air. His tail is quivering, displaying the stubs of feathers that haven't yet grown in.

"You've got a while before you'll make it in the Capitol," Finnick says, eyeing the bird.

thekittenqueen: ([Margaery] Watches (Tender))
[personal profile] thekittenqueen
WHO: Margaery
WHERE: The Inn
WHEN: 7/21
OPEN TO: All
WARNINGS: None



It wasn't something many would accept or celebrate, given how this was seen as a curse to some or a prison to others. While there were difficulties and, quite often, chaos, this place was her home. She couldn't return to Westeros and, for all that she suffered here, she had come to love her life in the village. She and Robb had discussed the idea of happiness and whether or not it was possible. Near a month since then, she felt certain of the answer, reflecting it as she rose from bed to let her animals out to graze.

Maybe she had found happiness? She was alive and had something to herself, something pure and away from the politics of Westeros. It might be small and insignificant compared to a crown, but it was truly hers. Her animals, her crops, they were enough to keep her going during the days. But it was those she had come to know here and care for that brought her genuine joy.

After putting her animals away, she gathered her fresh harvest, creating a large fruit platter for everyone. Spread across were peaches, apples, blackberries, blueberries, strawberries, grapes and cherries, grown to that perfect point where there was a mix of tart and sweet. She set the fruit out at the inn, offering a bit to anyone that entered. Seated near the window with Gilbert at her feet and a bit of sewing in her lap, she turned to regard the person that came to join her.

"I have been here a year," she murmured. "I didn't think it right not to find some way to celebrate."

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