Sixth Iteration Logs

<div class="postheader">WHO: (Who is making the post)
WHERE: (Where the post takes place)
WHEN: (When the post takes place)
OPEN TO: (Who the post is open to tags from -- Specific characters, all, none, etc.)
WARNINGS: (Please warn for adult content or anything triggering) <hr></div>
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specialise

WHO: Raven Reyes.
WHERE: The Inn, the Bungalows, the Fountain.
WHEN: December 18 - 24.
OPEN TO: Everyone!
WARNINGS: Possible mentions of depression as well as previous violence.
STATUS: Open! Please keep in mind there's a few prompts below and I'd like to limit each one to a couple of people for a variety of different situations!
SUMMARY: Raven's being reunited with her bum leg for a week.
( I WAS LOOKING AT A RIVER BED )

turned_to_steel

WHO: Sansa Stark
WHERE: The Inn
WHEN: December 20th
OPEN TO: Everyone!
WARNINGS: Will update if needed
STATUS: OPEN

Sansa had her jaw clenched and her hands buried deep in her pockets, hurrying towards the Inn as quickly as she could make herself go without running. It was tempting to run but she didn't trust the snow that clung to the ground and the fact that there could possibly be ice patches somewhere underneath. She didn't relish the idea of possibly slipping and hurting herself when she was supposed to be going to the Inn to get her first lesson in cooking breakfast.

So she was more than grateful for the heat she felt when she reached the front door and pushed it open to let herself inside the nice, warm building. Stomping her feet, she shut the door and looked up to see if she could spot Kate anywhere. What she found instead was enough to have her eyes going wide and her lips parting in surprise at the sight of boxes stacked everywhere in the main room. It didn't matter where she looked, there seemed to be a new stack of varying heights and sizes. So many of them that she wasn't even sure she could count them all.

It wasn't like the box she had found on her front step, though. These boxes were wrapped in pretty paper of different colors and designs, and all with a tag sitting on top of each one.

Unbuttoning her jacket, she moved to the closest stack of boxes and took a peek at the first tag that was visible to her. She recognized both names and found herself blinking in confusion while she glanced at the second tag. Had everyone else found a way to get presents to give to someone else and she had missed it? She wondered briefly if maybe it was something that had been planned from before she had arrived but why hadn't her brothers mentioned it to her? It was something she was still puzzling over until she found a tag that was intended for someone else but had her name on it as well.

A quick search at another stack had her finding a present that was intended for her.

Still curious and wanting answers, Sansa set her jacket aside and went back to the first stack of boxes. Plucking the first box off the top, she set it to the side and moved the second box to another area. By the time someone came downstairs or came inside, Sansa was making new piles sorted by the name of who the presents were meant for. She thought it would be easier for people to find their presents rather than everyone stomping around poking through every stack and reading every tag.

[ooc: This is a mingle post for people to find their presents if they are located at the Inn! If you wish to, please feel free to have your character find their stack of presents already sorted.]

repressings

WHO: Credence Barebone and you (ft Annie Cresta)
WHERE: Fountain, inn, and around the village
WHEN: 12/8
OPEN TO: Legit everyone
WARNINGS: Most likely mentions of abuse in tags, will edit accordingly. Spoilers for Fantastic Beasts!
STATUS: Open.
( Aɴᴅ ʟᴇᴛ ᴛʜᴇ sᴜɴ ᴡʀᴀᴘ ɪᴛs ᴀʀᴍs ᴀʀᴏᴜɴᴅ ᴍᴇ ᴀɴᴅ )

71st_victor

WHO: Johanna Mason
WHERE: The Fountain | The Inn
WHEN: December 3, Mid-Day
OPEN TO: OTA
WARNINGS: Violence, Nudity
STATUS: Open

Under Attack

She opens her eyes to water. There's nothing but water around her and below, there's the distinctly familiar shape she's seen twice below in her life. Launch pad. They've never launched victors in the water before, though, because then there's no way to keep them on the pad until the countdown is done, which means...which means what. The icy cold water is making it hard to think, but she refuses to swim to the top until she's got a plan. She'd been knocked out by Katniss aiming the arrow at the sky, so the Capitol could've gotten to her. The tracking chip is still in her arm (which is something that's coming out the first chance she gets).

So what? What, then? What would the Capitol do to her? They'd make her pay and they'd make suffer. There's no one left to die for her, so why not just kill her? Unless they think that living is a worse punishment.

She's running out of time (and air) and she needs a plan. If this is an old arena, maybe they flooded certain parts of it and that's why she's able to get to the top. Before she does, though, she kicks her way back down until she finds a piece of stone that looks sharp enough to attack with and uses all her energy to kick her way to the top, bursting past the surface of the water with a gasp before she positions herself at the back of the ... fountain? Okay, then.

Waiting, biding her time, Johanna keeps treading water and ignoring the chill of it as she brandishes one hand outside of the water, the small stone shiv ready to pierce if it needs to. Whoever comes by first is going to give her some answers, whether they like it or not.

By The Fire

It doesn't take long for her to figure out a way away from the fountain (which is a launch pad without a detonation device, apparently, which makes sense if this is an arena that's already been used and decommissioned). It takes her a little longer than that to evaluate the area around her for threats, but she heads for the house with the smoke coming out of the chimney. It's stupid, is what it is, but if she's right, then whoever's in there isn't going to be a threat.

If this is an arena that the Capitol is using as some kind of unseen prison, then it stands to reason that everyone here is an ally in the fight against the Capitol. Goody for Johanna, she gets to spend her time behind bars instead of up front in the action, getting the vengeance she's been so sorely denied for so long. She's been looking forward to it ever since they reaped her for the fucking Quarter Quell, all because she was the only one strong enough to have survived.

"At least someone knows how to be hospitable," she says, slinging her bag onto the ground as soon as she's inside, stripping off her clothes without a moment's delay while keeping herself a decent distance from the fire, yanking up one of the curtains lingering around to start drying her hair as she kicks off the pants and underwear, tugging off the bra and shirt next until she's standing completely naked in the foyer of the building.

When she hears footsteps, her guard is up, but she doesn't act like it. She knows better than anyone that you should let your opponent think you're not a threat until the last, crucial moment.

"I know the view's great," she says over her shoulder, still working at drying her hair, "But I don't suppose you've got a change of clothes and some food? I'm starving," she says, the Games having denied her a decent meal and her head is pounding after having to deal with Katniss and her ridiculous lack of trust in her. You cut a girl's arm open one time, and what does it get you? No thanks, that's what.

warriorborn

WHO: Benedict Sorellin-Lancaster
WHERE: The Inn/the small "living room" off the main common room
WHEN: Nov 25, after the feast and Karen's discovery
OPEN TO: Inn residents
WARNINGS: discussion of Karen's murder, general moping
STATUS: Open

It seems that just as one is getting used to the cruelties of this place, something good happens. And when one is getting used to the good things, something tragic happens again, as if to remind them all that they cannot allow themselves to get comfortable, that there are people out there that enjoy toying with them, dangling the prospect of peace and prosperity in front of their noses before snatching it viciously away.

Benedict did not know Karen well, but she lived at the Inn same as he, and to see her like that...

He had refused to allow Kate outside to see the body, bundling her up in his arms and physically restraining her when she tried, knowing that seeing that happen to someone she knew and cared for would be far worse than anything else he could think of. Bad enough they can still see the blood in the snow, even with the body removed (so much blood), she didn't need to see the actual physical aftermath of the attack they had all somehow managed to miss in the midst of their revelry. He'd kept the drapes drawn this morning to block the sight, which left the Inn in a kind of dim gloom, the crackling fire he'd learned how to set throwing off light and warmth that seemed almost obscenely cheerful in the aftermath of last night. The picked-over carcasses of the food that had appeared for them seem ominous in the morning, so he'd shut the door to the main room, a plate of apples and some bread and cheese all that he brought into the room with him so that people could break their nightly fast without having to see what was left of the food the Observers had distracted them with while Karen was being so hideously murdered.

With a blanket draped over his shoulders like a cape, Benedict sits on the floor, his back pressed up against the leg of one of the low tables, watching the fire burn without seeing a thing.

Feel free to respond to Benny or start an OTA of your own! Thread-hopping encouraged.

lastofthekellys

WHO: Kate Kelly
WHERE: The Inn
WHEN: 24th November
OPEN TO: E V E R Y O N E
WARNINGS: TBA
STATUS: OPEN

Aside from the days when she'd been too drunk or too hungover to get up, Kate's kept a farmer's hours all her life. Even in winter, when the bitterly cold winds that'd come up from the south and make its way through the cracks and holes in her ma's hut, she'd get up, get dressed, do her chores. But lately, it's been harder to extract herself from her bed. Benedict's been sharing her bed more often than not lately, and the chasteness of their interactions does nothing to change how warm and safe she feels. How little she wants to get up, get dressed, go out into the colder spaces of the Inn and do her work.

So, today, she's late getting out of bed - at least, by her standards. She's late getting down the stairs. She's late, so she's hurrying; she lazed in bed, and now she needs to start the fire in the main room. Start the fire, open the shutters, show that the Inn is standing and warm. And welcome, so she moves the -

No, Kate doesn't move the chairs stacked precariously at the front door as a rudimentary alarm of someone, something, coming through, because the chairs are gone. She neither dismisses it as one of the residents not getting the message, nor panics. Instead, she just opens the shutters to let in the dawn light and see if there are footprints, except, no, the snow has mostly cleared. The day is sunny. As welcome as it is, that doesn't help at all. Miss Hoppity jumps down from the foyer's desk to rub her face against Kate's skirt, apparently entirely unconcerned.

Kate eyes the cat for a moment, then approaches the closed doors leading to the main room. Closed, but with light coming through the cracks between door and floor, door and door frame. Cautiously, Kate opens one of the doors and peers in.

Then, she gapes.

The fire is blazing - hot, cheery - but so are the candles. The candles: candles on the unused candlesticks, candles clustered on tables, light up sideboards. Candles bobbing in bowls of water and apples. Candles white, yellow and red, when the village had none. Boughs of wheat, corn, decorate tables and the mantle over the fire, apples and pumpkins and collections of yellow, orange, red flowers seem to be everywhere.

And the food.

Each table is piled high with food. Roasted, baked, cooked on stoves and Kate knows how to cook, she knows how long this would all take, how many people, and it's impossible. What she's seeing is impossible to have done with the resources on hand: even an attempt would have woken up the whole building.

Disbelieving, Kate walks in. For a moment, she's entirely dumbfounded. Miss Hoppity, however, is nothing of the sort. The cat has leapt up onto the sideboard next to Kate and - well, Kate isn't sure what happens next. Just that suddenly there's movement and something large seems to lunge at her. Miss Hoppity yowls and speeds off: Kate screams as she battles something, falling backwards and hitting the floor along with a broken bowl of water, spilled apples and some tiny candles, and her attacker.

Pushing the food-turkey off her, Kate sits up and is, for once, entirely lost for words.

kissed_byfire

WHO: Ygritte
WHERE: Bungalow #50, around the Village and at the Inn
WHEN: November 18th, throughout
OPEN TO: All
WARNINGS: None at this time
STATUS: Open

Front of Bungalow 50

It was quite early in the morning and though the wildling had been warmly surrounded by Jon's arms, Ygritte was wide awake after a nightmare had jarred her out of sleep. It was of her last moments and the words exchanged between the two of them, only it wasn't at Castle Black where she died.

They were there in the Village.

She remained only long enough until she was calm again, the slow rise and fall of Jon's chest as he breathed helped. Going back to sleep wasn't going to happen so out of bed she slipped and dressed before wandering through the house and out to sit on the front step. It was quiet and the Free Woman decided she had at least a couple hours before the other townspeople started to wake and go about their day.

Around the Village/At the Inn

Ygritte didn't care if she was approachable. But today, for some odd reason, she put herself where the people were. Or as much as she could. Jon was off busy doing something, no doubt with his family, and sitting at their home wasn't engaging enough of an activity.

She wandered through, into the trees and back out along the river and up to the Inn where she sat and watched people come and go from a corner in the pub.

booklegging

WHO: Jess Brightwell, Raven Reyes, a dead bear, and you!
WHERE: The inn.
WHEN: Nov. 9th.
OPEN TO: Anyone and everyone.
WARNINGS: Animal death, gore, conspiracy theories, etc. You know the drill.
STATUS: Open.

( if you go down to the woods today, you're sure of a big surprise )

womanofvalue

WHO: Peggy Carter
WHERE: The Canyon | Inn
WHEN: mid-day November 4 | end of day November 5
OPEN TO: Steve | OTA
WARNINGS: Potential language
STATUS: Closed

For Steve

It's been colder than Peggy likes, but that's no reason to stop exploring the canyon. If anything, it's actually a good incentive as if she doesn't finish her work of mapping out the area, then she's going to end up locked out from onslaughts of snow that piles up too high to do anything about. It's why she's clad herself in her coat, grasped the rope, and starts towards the canyon.

She stops, though, outside of the house Steve is living in. It's the sort of adventure that she thinks he might like. More than that, it's the sort of thing that she imagines they might have done together at some point, had he come home from the war. "Steve, it's me," Peggy says, trying to stay brisk and refuse to allow any emotion to creep into it.

Adjusting the rope a little more, she reaches up to tweak her hair to ensure it stays pinned up.

"I've got a prospect I think you won't want to turn down."

Down The Ledge

Later, much later, Peggy feels like she's had a long experience that she's not sure she can quantify. Truly, it's a stressful thing because she'd been up on that little crumbling edge so high above everyone else that she had genuinely worried about ever coming back. There had been moments, up there, where all she could imagine was a broken leg that led to her death or something else equally as terrible.

She's made it back to the inn with some help, but she still feels shaken. The canyon map is spread out in front of her with all its conflicting information. She wants a drink more than anything else, because her whole life had flashed before her eyes and she feels like she's neglected whole parts of it and for what?

Some bloody map that still doesn't make sense.

Months and months of work and this is a dead end. Staring forlornly at it, Peggy leans down to rub sore muscles from standing on that little ledge for so long, wondering what comes next. "This bloody, awful, ridiculous thing," she swears, her voice trembling slightly as she crumples the map before her (for all the good it does, seeing as fabric doesn't crumple quite well).

It's nearly cost her her life. What else might this place try and take from her next?

seekingvinland

WHO: Thorfinn
WHERE: Around the Village
WHEN: Saturday, October 29th
OPEN TO: OTA
WARNINGS: None
STATUS: Open!

Thorfinn's day hadn't started well, loud screams ripping through the house until he was pulled out of his sleep by either or both of those he lived with. The nightmares were worse than than had been for a long time, he had sat at the end of his bed staring off into space until he realize what was outside of his open window. Snow. He shot across the room fast taking in a deep breath of the cold air outside. Like a child at yule, it was everything his soul needed.

The cold sticking to his face. He smiled leaning half out the window, it was only when a few snow flakes landed on his bare chest he remembered that it wasn't the best idea. Pulling himself back inside it was time to get to work. Layers. Layers were important in the snow. The long johns pulled on under the outfit chosen for the day. The stained up scrubs pants and the tunic Kate made. He pulled the black wool coat from the back. It wasn't a style he knew but he had asked about it before and pulled it on. He made his way out of the room stopping long enough to clean his face and braid his hair down over his ears to keep them warm. He was already missing a chunk of one, so he tended to style his hair over the ear to hide the fact it was missing a bit.

"Going for wood, we will need more!" He called upstairs before closing the door. he didn't bother making a fire, he was sure Jo or Kol would take care of it if they intended to stay indoors. No sense burning wood if no one would be home. Once he was outside he found himself unbuttoning the coat again. Strange, he expected it to be much colder. The snow was nice though.

Swinging the axe over his shoulder he headed for the woods.

It was around noon when he made his way back from dropping more wood off at home. He was brushing wood chips off himself as he made his way across the village. Trying to decide if he should go to the inn and see how Kate and the other's were holding up, or go to the blacksmith to give forging the Bog iron another try. In the end he just ended up walking with his arms crossed over his chest. Taking in the beauty of the world around him.

thingsfall

WHO: Bruce Wayne
WHERE: The Fountain | The Inn | Fountain Park
WHEN: October 15th and the days following
OPEN TO: all
WARNINGS: to be updated as needed
STATUS: open

( what are we saving for? )

lastofthekellys

WHO: Kate Kelly
WHERE: The Inn
WHEN: 10th - 13th
OPEN TO: Helen Magnus | E V E R Y O N E
WARNINGS: TBA
STATUS: Closed | Open

Closed to Helen

Once Kate's back in the Inn - once she and Margaery have been found, once the forest lets them be found - her first port of call is her bedroom. She wants clean clothes, dry clothes. She wants to warm up and she's too cold to bother much about propriety.

Someone said something about getting Helen Magnus, but, really, Kate is fine. Scratches, including one across her nose. Bruises. Her ankle is painful, but she's fine. She just needs to warm up and maybe sleep, which is why she's in the bathroom, half-undressed, sitting in the bath and scrubbing at her skin with a warm washer.

She wants clean clothes, dry clothes, but she can't pull those on until she's warm and clean. She just...

She can't.

Open

Mostly, after Miss Magnus has sorted her out, Kate spends a lot of her time sleeping. In her few lucid moments, she thinks it is not unlike as if her body has suddenly realised how little she's been sleeping, and is trying to catch it all up at once. She gets out of bed to eat, to perform necessary bodily needs, and then she goes back to bed.

Once, she goes for a brief walk, because just being inside was making her feel awful, but only a brief one, where she wound up seeing Miss Carter. Then, it was to the Inn and her warm, warm bed.

By the second day after her and Miss Margaery's rescue, she's progressed to sitting up. It's all terribly indulgent of her, but people fuss when she tries to do anything more serious than checking up on her chicks, and she's so very tired. She can relax this once, can't she?

So Kate sits in bed and she sews. She plays with Miss Hoppity, who alternates between clinging to her as if worried that her human mama will vanish again and ignoring her, as cats do. She combs out her long hair with her fork, which takes rather more time than she'd admit. She naps. When she feels adventurous, or rather, when she's tired of her bed being so seductively warm, she sits at the chair at her dresser in the little alcove her room has, and sews there by the light of the now appearing sun.

She leaves her door open when she's awake, to let anyone come in when they want to. She might feel awkward admitting that sitting by herself is lonely, when she's been ordered to rest, but she does get that way.

booklegging

WHO: Jess Brightwell and everyone!
WHERE: The inn.
WHEN: Sept. 28th to Oct. 11th.
OPEN TO: Everyone who lives at or would visit the inn during the non-stop rain. If you don't feel like making a log for the inn but want a place to tag around, this is the mingle post for you!
WARNINGS: Will update if necessary.
STATUS: Open. Mingle away, comrades.

There's nothing quite like the sky opening up and releasing a torrential downpour to bring people together. With water coming down in buckets and the streets turning into waterways, it would be wise to seek shelter until this lets up...

If it ever lets up.

For those needing a place to warm up, the inn has a roaring fire and hot tea waiting. Pass the time watching the rain at the window, or telling stories around the main room's fireplace, or enjoying friendly company in the pub. You're even welcome to stay the night in one of the inn's spare rooms, just don't mind the leaks. It's an old building. Luckily there are plenty of buckets to go around.

kissed_byfire

WHO: Ygritte
WHERE: Fountain, elsewhere around the village
WHEN: September 26th - 29th
OPEN TO: All
WARNINGS: Possible talk of death, paranoia, confusion.
STATUS: Open

Waking up in the fountain had been an experience, to say the least. Ygritte had been in one place, with an arrow in her chest, drawing her last breath in the arms of the man she realized she did indeed love, despite his betrayal and everything that happened. But then she was underwater, still trying to take that breath before her subconscious told her what to do.

Push up.

At the moment her head broke the surface of the water, the wildling woman gasped loudly while her arms instinctively move to keep her from going under again. Ygritte was by no means an excellent swimmer, but she knew what to do. Before long she was pulling herself out and onto the pavement, completely confused with words echoing in her mind. His words. His voice.

"We'll go back there."

Ygritte's mind clouded before retreating in a whirlwind of confusion. She took a moment longer, blinking slowly before getting to her feet. Things from before clashed with things that were happening here and it was too much to understand, or comprehend.

So she started walking.

treadswater

WHO: Annie Cresta
WHERE: The Forest
WHEN: 14th-25th September
OPEN TO: Everyone!
WARNINGS: General warning for anxious tendencies and homicidal thoughts
STATUS: Open

NOTES: Feel free to catch Annie anywhere mentioned! Or feel free to have your character caught in a snare. If nothing strikes your fancy, just drop me a comment and I'll come up with something.

They'd had to move, after the earthquake. Branches had damaged their camp, and the only fresh water easily found was that spring, down in the south-west. So Finnick and Annie had moved, north to south, setting up another camp closer to the water. But not too close and not in direct line of the village - they aren't, after all, stupid. Setting up camp between water sources and the main camp of others is an excellent way to get killed. Neither of them intend to die. Even if there's been no deaths announced. Even if the strangeness is adding up and up to something not even Annie can puzzle out. They aren't dying.

But even with her paranoia whispering and sometimes shrieking, even with fear making her jump and startle and giggle, Annie is settling into a pattern.

She and Finnick take watches during the night, judging time by the moon and stars (and, by now, the howling of the wolves). Before dawn is when they gather water, using stolen water jars and the baskets they've woven tightly from grasses. Before dawn, which means before the others (the other tributes?) come down with their buckets. Food is more haphazard, and only cooked when it could conceivably be safe.

Safer. Not safe.

Nothing here is safe.

Annie fills her day with gathering food, which includes checking the various snares they've placed around. It's a jumpy time for her, because the snares aren't just for game. They are also protection. The area around their camp is booby-trapped, which is the only way she can stand for her and Finnick to be separated. If she stays in the camp, repairing their shelter and containers or just unable to move from her mind's self-sabotage, she's safer with the snares. With the traps.

But she does get out. She goes for scouting trips, the same as Finnick. Exploring the terrain. Trying to find traps, mutts. Trying to find some more water, preferably a stream with fish. The fish in the now polluted river have gone. Oh, there are some suspiciously floating the surface, all so obviously dead, but the rest are gone, gone, gone.

That nothing has resulted from this disappearance, nothing, nothing driving the tributes together, hasn't helped Annie's nerves at all.

She also spies on the water gatherers, and the village. Her uniform might have been white when she scrambled out of the fountain, but by now Annie's rolled in enough dirt and mud that she's dulled it to dirty brown-grey more than white. And she's a small woman, barely 5', who spends a lot of her time up in the trees. But she's got that vibrant red hair and it's not yet autumn, so she's achingly aware of how visible she can if anyone looks up.

almightythor

WHO: Thor Odinson
WHERE: The Fountain, the village road
WHEN: 10 September
OPEN TO: OTA
WARNINGS: N/A
STATUS: Open

Battle was something that sung to him. Thor knew that as a king, he should want to see his people in peace and prosperity and, all told, he did but there was something about battle that drove him to be his best. He loved to fight, to champion those who needed to be championed and he loved to put down tyranny whenever he could. It was this desire that led him to continue to lend his aid to the Avengers and it was this desire that had brought him to Sokovia to begin with.

He'd fought alongside Rogers and Stark, had lent the strength of his hammer to Romanoff and Barton. There was little he wouldn't do for his comrades at arms and even less he wouldn't do in defense of someone helpless, of a city on the brink of peril. He would fight until there was no more strength in his body and, even then, he wouldn't be broken. He wouldn't allow death and tyranny to plague the people of Midgard or any of the other realms so long as he still drew breath.

So how was it, exactly, that he'd wound up in this place? The world had begun to spun after taking a particularly-painful blow and when Thor could open his eyes again, he was in a rapidly-draining pool. He clawed himself upward, scrabbling against the lip of stone, and hauled himself to the ground only to find that it, too, was quaking. An earthquake. How could it be? What did this herald? Long ago, the people of Midgard had read much into such natural phenomena and had thought them portents of something dangerous; Thor knew them to be only the natural shifts and pulls of the earth but he hadn't been in anything as violent as this in a long, long while.

He launched himself to his feet, thinking little about the loss of his armor or Mjolnir and ran away from the trees in hopes that he wouldn't be struck. It would take a great deal to fell him, yes, but he didn't want to find himself compromised in a place that was unfamiliar and seemingly dangerous. Running brought him along to a village, of sorts, though it did not look like anything Midgard or Asgard had to offer. The ground had stopped quaking for a moment and he kept his steps cautious; would it begin again?

"What is the meaning of this?" he demanded, voice loud and far beyond being polite. He had been in the heat of a great battle, had been needed alongside the rest of his team. Here, he was no use to anyone. What if someone needed him? What if his hammer struck the final blow and now, with him out of sight, the battle was lost?

"It had better not involve Loki," he muttered, somewhat softer. If his brother had a hand in this, there would be hell to pay.

lastofthekellys

WHO: Kate Kelly
WHERE: The Inn
WHEN: 10th September and a few days after
OPEN TO: Inn Residents, whoever else might be in the building: then, everyone!
WARNINGS: TBA
STATUS: Open

Earthquake

It's 5pm, or would be, if anyone paid much attention to things like clocks here. Sunset isn't for another two and a half hours or so, and the day's been hot. Not as humid as it has been. The Inn is mostly quiet, as it's hours after the midday dinner and the only people around either live at the Inn or have reason to be there. Supper will be made soon, as it's been a good day with the food supply.

Then, a minute later, the ground starts to shake.

Repairs and Aftermath

The Inn hasn't been as badly damaged as some other buildings. Foundations are still strong, walls haven't been cracked. But it's a big building, with lots of furniture and light fixtures, and it got shaken.

Having been turned into the unofficial community centre, it'll take some work and a few days to get everything straightened up again.

There's also the little matter of the water supply...

ooc: this is a party-style post, so set up your own OTAs or tag around and have fun! Setting is both for the day of the quake and a few days after to try and fix things up.

booklegging

WHO: Jess Brightwell.
WHERE: The inn.
WHEN: Sept. 7th.
OPEN TO: Anyone!
WARNINGS: Doomsday prepping because rude, mother nature.
STATUS: Open.

Jess wasn't normally one to spend time idling around when he had a canyon to comb through, but the growing ferocity of the earthquakes had shifted his priorities in an abrupt. Getting caught in the forest during yesterday's quake and nearly pitching forward into some brambles on account of the buckling earth had made it abundantly clear these things were getting worse--and the next one could do actual damage.

To think he'd brushed off last week's as an overactive imagination. Hindsight was 20/20.

He really didn't care to find out how bad their living situation would get if the buildings caved in on their already meager stores, and to that end Jess was determinedly preparing the inn in case of the worst case scenario. Being a pessimist had its advantages.

Jess spent the better part of the morning lugging around water and filling up whatever would hold it, then moved on to the unoccupied rooms in the inn, going through each one and making it less of a potential deathtrap taking down mirrors and moving heavy or breakable objects off shelves. His own room had already gotten a makeover: he'd pushed his bed far from the window, moving the rest of the furniture out of the way so he wouldn't be likely to get crushed by a shelf in the middle of the night.

Better. Not great, but better.

fishermansweater

WHO: Finnick Odair
WHERE: Fountain park + outlying areas of the town
WHEN: September 2
OPEN TO: EVERYONE
WARNINGS: References to violence, descriptions of anxiety.
STATUS: OPEN

FOUNTAIN PARK

( Enter one very paranoid victor )

OUTLYING HOUSES

( Investigations )

warriorborn

WHO: Benedict Sorellin-Lancaster
WHERE: Vegetable patch behind the Town Hall/The Inn
WHEN: September 1st
OPEN TO: OTA
WARNINGS: n/a
STATUS: Open

VEGETABLE PATCH

When Benedict learned that there was a vegetable patch that had been set up behind the town hall, he had been nearly overjoyed. Finally, something he could do! Stripped of his gauntlet and his sword, unable to use many of the so-called weapons that had been dubiously provided for them, and never having hunted a day in his life -- frankly, he finds the whole idea more than a little off-putting, killing an animal and then eating it like some kind of barbarian -- he's been feeling rather useless since he popped out of the fountain. He's been spending his time doing what he can around the Inn, helping Miss Kelly with her lunchtime preparations, stirring pots for her and cleaning up after all is said and done. But even that can only take up so much of his time, and he's felt uncomfortably idle once all the washing-up had been completed.

And then he found out about the vegetable garden, and finally, there is something he can do.

Growing in soil is highly uncommon in Spires, mainly because the logistics of getting soil in which to grow plants so far off the ground is a nightmare. However, the monks at the Temple of the Way managed to acquire many things that the general populace did not, and Benedict remembers many long hours spent carefully tending little green shoots in rich, dark soil being part of his novitiate training.

The soil here isn't quite the same, not nearly as loamy between his fingers, but it is still cool and damp, and settling to his knees between the little plants to pluck the weeds and make sure nothing is growing that shouldn't be and no critters are eating anything they shouldn't is nearly meditative in nature, and for the first time since he crawled out of the fountain, he feels at peace. Even being down on the Surface isn't enough to dim his good mood.

THE INN; front steps

His excitement at discovering the vegetable patch was nothing compared to his excitement when he learned that the head gardener -- Mister Watney, according to Miss Kelly -- was intending to establish a bee hive. He'd seen a few fat little yellow and black insects bobbing around the late-blooming wildflowers that still dot the valley in which their habble is set, but the idea to try and collect them into a hive of their own hadn't occurred to him until it was suggested, and then it was all he could think about.

He's going to build a skep or two for the bees to live in. That, more than the occasional shift weeding, will be one of his more helpful contributions to the habble, he thinks.

There is not much hay with which to work as there don't seem to be any fields that have been cultivated for that purpose, but Benedict likes to think he's able to problem-solve as well as anyone else, and he's decided to supplement what dried grasses he was able to collect with the reeds that grow along the riverbank. Along with the reeds, he discovered a beautiful willow tree that supplied exactly the kind of branches he needed so that he could split them into three thinner sections to "sew" the twisted reeds and hay together. It's a somewhat messy job, which is why he's set up shop on the front steps of the Inn, off to one side so he can spread out his materials without making a huge mess in the common room (which would, of course, mean running the risk of getting scolded by Miss Kelly for increasing the need for sweeping).

Whistling to himself, Benedict takes one of the thin, supple willow branches and starts to whittle down one end, smoothing it out before he makes a cut with a knife at the end and starts to carefully split it down its length.

Sixth Iteration

Logs

Entries tagged with great library: jess brightwell

Credits & Style Info

AND THE STORY IT TOLD OF A RIVER THAT FLOWED MADE ME SAD TO THINK IT WAS DEAD

Tis the season...for a lot of boxes? [Presents!]

I want to live where soul meets body

to the victors, the spoils

And though I just heard myself say it, baby, I'm lying to you

Let us eat quickly-- let us fill ourselves up. {Harvest Feast}

do you know what your fate is, and are you trying to shake it

mingle post | open

cat in a tree (or a carter)

Theres magic everywhere

we do our time like pennies in a jar

in from the rain

mingle post | open

i'm searching for something that i can't reach

out in the woods

thunder cracks and lightning strikes

of earthquakes and aftershocks

002 ♙ open

ψ It's hard to have faith when faith is a crime

002; and if you sing this melody, you'll be pretending just like me