igotacrossbow: (peeking)
[personal profile] igotacrossbow
WHO: Jake Jensen
WHERE: Around the village
WHEN: Forward-dated to July 25
WARNINGS: Grief, aborted panic attack

Cougar disappearing for a day or two isn't unusual. He's always been the lone-wolf type, prone to withdrawing into himself and doing whatever the hell he feels like despite what anyone else might say, and Jake is used to that. He's used to him climbing trees and staying there all day, to parking himself on the roof and refusing to come down, to skulking around the shadowed corners of rooms and refusing to speak in anything more than the occasional grunt. 

His looming shadow, far-flung as it might occasionally be, has become a central point to Jake's life, the lodestone around which his consciousness revolves. 

Cougar has been missing for nearly five days. 

At first, he'd explained it away. Cougar was out hunting. Cougar was setting his traps. Cougar was exploring. Cougar was sulking. Cougar was lying somewhere in the canyon, injured so badly he couldn't come crawling home, slowly bleeding out into the pine-needle-covered forest floor, wondering why Jake hadn't come to rescue him. 

He hasn't had a panic attack since before he joined the Army. He feels alarmingly close to one now. 

Cougar isn't in the smithy, and he isn't in the store room, and he isn't down by the waterfront. He isn't in the mill, or the cellar of their house, or perched on top of the Inn. Jake is rapidly running out of places to look, and the panic that's been clawing at his throat has really started to get its claws into him, squeezing tighter and tighter. Cougar can't be gone. He can't. They didn't survive Afghanistan and Bolivia only to let this shit hole village to separate them. He's not allowed to leave. 

Frantic, and hiding it very badly, he grabs the sleeve of the next person he passes, for the moment utterly oblivious and uncaring of the fact that he looks like a wild man and could very well frighten the next person he grabs. 

"Tell me you've seen Cougar," he demands, eyes wide and bloodshot behind his glasses. "Do you know where he is?" 
teen_angst_bullshit: (078)
[personal profile] teen_angst_bullshit
WHO: Veronica Sawyer
WHERE: The River & Various
WHEN: June 23-25
OPEN TO: ALL, Kira & Nerys

Dear Diary,

It's really fucking hot.

Understatement of the year, Veronica thinks as she stares down at the line, sweat tickling down the back of her scalp to gather at her hairline.

Thinking about going bald, she adds in a looping scrawl. Could start a new village fashion.

The sad truth is that she probably could. With the sun giving them the finger day in and day out, it's surprising people aren't lined up at Kira's door begging him to shear them like the sheep. It might even look cute, now that she considers it—

That's it. She's got to get some kind of relief or she really will hunt down the kitchen shears and do something she'll regret later.

Even at half capacity, the river's still the best option available. Well, unless you want to swim in the fountain, and Veronica's just not that comfortable with the idea of accidentally dog-paddling into somebody fresh arrived to what's beginning to actually feel like hell.

Towel in hand, she abandons the steamy shade of the house and trudges to the river, where she strips all the way to her panties and bra before wading in. No jumping from the dock today, unless you want to break something.

For Kira & Nerys )
thecatinahat: (fiddle)
[personal profile] thecatinahat
WHO: Cougar Alvarez
WHERE: Alvarez-Jensen-Sawyer Residence
WHEN: June 21st
OPEN TO: Jake Jensen
WARNINGS: Haircuts and Complaining

The last time Cougar had been on a mission this far north during the summer, he hadn't slept for a full week straight between the sunlight and the mission. It had left him a little splintered of reality then. Here, he isn't sleeping as much as he'd like, between the heat and the light, and it's taken him back to old habits. He sits in shady spots in high trees to keep an eye on people, his observation skills as critical as ever. Maybe more, because he's not sleeping, and when he is, the nightmares are worse than ever. So instead, he stays awake and he makes notes about people and he watches, always watches.

It's how he notices that Jake is starting to get irritated with the heat and his hair. It's little signs at first, but then, Cougar's unwavering eye notices enough little additions that he knows just what he needs to do. He fetches his scissors and a bowl of the coolest water he can find, putting everything together and then sitting in the corner of their bedroom with his hat pulled low over his head, sweating through his tank top and self-made shorts (his scrubs, cut, which means he will not have them for the winter).

Unmoving, he sits there and waits, his own hair tied in a bun behind his head. After what happened the last time to make him cut his own hair, he's not trying that again. No, this is about making Jake stop with his fidgeting and complaining and sweating, at least, for a few seconds. It will be a few seconds worth it.
thecatinahat: (fiddle)
[personal profile] thecatinahat
WHO: Cougar Alvarez
WHEN: Evening of May 14th to early morning 15th
OPEN TO: Mingle!
WARNINGS: None, now

He'd been in the middle of a supply run when suddenly, the sky opened up. For a man like Cougar, who holds religion close to him, there's something very biblical about this, like he hasn't been paying enough attention to the pages of the old testament, but then, he also hasn't seen any toads creeping out of the water and making him worry that first blood is going to be next (which would be a problem, seeing as he's the eldest Alvarez). It's not just hail, though. It's hued black, a dangerous thing, and Cougar crosses himself before stepping away from the door.

Even if he runs, he thinks he'll be injured, so that means setting up base in the inn for the next little while. At first, he does nothing but sit and zone out, meditating. Eventually, old thoughts start to creep back and Cougar knows that doesn't lead anywhere good, so he starts digging through what they have.

That's when he finds the playing cards. Smirking, he takes the two sets and heads to the nearest table, whistling loud enough to get the attention of anyone in the main room or anyone upstairs listening. "Poker," he calls out to all of them, shuffling cards and trying to keep the smile from his face, seeing as if there's one thing Cougar likes as much as shooting, it's poker.

Well, no, it's cheating at poker, but no one needs to know that just yet.

Besides, the hail doesn't sound like it wants to stop. There's food, there's a roof, and it's a good way to pass the time. He might as well indulge.
igotacrossbow: (Default)
[personal profile] igotacrossbow
WHO: Jake Jensen
WHERE: The Alvarez-Jensen-Sawyer residence's back yard
WHEN: April 10
WARNINGS: excessive singing by a very, very white man
STATUS: ongoing

Perhaps he should be suspicious of the nearly idyllic weather that's settled over this godforsaken hellhole, but Jake has always tried his best to live in the moment as much as possible, especially in situations where he can't control the future in any real way, shape, or form. And since it doesn't look like they'll be getting out of here any time soon, he's settled into the idea that he might as well focus on the present and enjoy what good moments they can scratch out of this shitty little life. 

Okay, he can't honestly be too mad about this. It sucks that they're trapped, but he's spent two solid weeks trapped in the jungle with Cougar before, and that was with a broken ankle and a concussion and no glasses, with enemy soldiers hunting them down to try and kill them, so this already has a huge leg up on that nightmare. At least here he has a house, and clean sheets, and a roommate, and a dog, and a general support network of neighbors and friends to rely on and socialize with. He's unreasonably fond of Cougar, it's true, but the guy isn't a great conversationalist, especially not when you're both fighting a raging fever and trying not to get perforated by a hail of bullets. 

He's decided to seize the moment, weather-wise, and get the washing finished. The soap they've managed to conjure up is a fucking far cry from some Tide back home, but it's good enough at getting general grime out of their sheets, and he's spent most of the afternoon churning a tub full of cotton fabric with a wooden dolly that he'd crudely whittled over the winter with a little instruction from some of the town residents who had actually used one before and not just seen them on Wikipedia. 

Once the sheets are as clean as he was going to get them and as wrung out as he can manage, it's time for hanging, which is how Jake ends up in the back yard by the chicken coop and rabbit hutch, Baby tagging along at his heels curiously as he starts to heft sopping wet bundles of white cotton up onto the clothes line, belting out a song at the top of his lungs like he's not in a more or less public space and people can actually hear him. 

"I want a Sunday kind of love" he croons at the dog, who cocks his head curiously to one side as Jake pretends the equally crudely-whittled clothespins in his hands are a microphone. "A love to last past Saturday night~"
thecatinahat: (white shirt)
[personal profile] thecatinahat
WHO: Cougar Alvarez
WHERE: Outside Bungalow #22
WHEN: Mid-day, March 17
WARNINGS: Discussion of animal butchery

Sometimes, Cougar really feels for his ancestors. He knows he's had rough situations before and has had to rough it, but that just means camping and surviving on minimal rations. Being in this place is a whole other game. It means building things from scratch and unearthing old skills he barely remembers. The chickens had been easy enough to build a coop for, but the rabbits had been a little harder. It's more than that, too. Keeping himself and his house fed means keeping the animals fed, which means long days, like he's gone back to his early days in Spec Ops, but this time, at least the only yelling that happens is by angry animals and not angry lieutenants.

Lately, he hasn't been able to do much hunting in the fog, which means he's turned to work closer to home. He'd managed to find several rabbits a few months back and has been treating them as best as he can, prodding and waiting for them to breed. He'd even brought them into the house, using the spare room, but now that the temperature seems to be stable, they're back outside.

That, and there are little ones.

"Aquí, pequeña madre," he says, leaning over to pet the mother for a job done well, offering out small pieces of foliage for the five little ones. He's not naming them and he's not raising them for pets, but right now, they are very small and very helpless and maybe Cougar has just a little bit of a soft spot for them, especially when they're this little, and this adorable.

Now, though, the trouble is that he's only built his hutch for four rabbits to grow and he has a fifth. He's sure he can convince someone to take it off his hands, but it will be hard to part with it, especially given that his future meal is very cute right now.
igotacrossbow: (uhhhh no)
[personal profile] igotacrossbow
WHO: Jake Jensen
WHERE: The Jensen-Alvarez-Sawyer residence
WHEN: Backdated to Jan 10
OPEN TO: Cougar
STATUS: Ongoing

So. Christmas was a thing that apparently happened, even though nobody knew what day of the week it was, let alone what day of the month. Jake had been keeping track of the number of days he's been down here by writing on the walls of the boiler room, down in the cellar, but since he couldn't be sure what day he fell through that stupid fountain, his tally hadn't really been all that useful in the long run. Still, every morning, he goes down to put wood in the furnace so they can have hot water, and he scratches another tick on the wall. It's beginning to be quite a large collection, he's not sure how he feels about that.

He's also not entirely sure how he feels about all those gifts that popped up. Some of them were useful, like the blankets they were given, or the boxes of flour from Miss Kelly, but some of them didn't seem to make much sense. (He had immediately devoured his hamburger, though, and then cried a little bit about it later when his stomach protested the food it had grown unused to and he missed being able to just go grab a burger in the middle of the night.) Cougar's ridiculously huge bottle of lube had gotten a good laugh, and he'd teased him about only keeping Jake around for one thing, but in the end, it had been a pretty useful gift. Lube could be used for all sorts of things, he knows that well enough. Just like he knows that it can be used precisely for its intended purpose, and then it works great.

What really worries him, though, is that it doesn't look like he got Cougar a gift. Everyone else gave and received things to and from him, but not Cougar. And that makes Jake feel like a really shitty friend, forget boyfriend. He'd been waiting for Cougar to bring it up, unsure of how to apologize for something that was apparently out of his control, but Cougar hadn't said a word, and the guilt has been weighing on him strongly.

Eventually, he seeks Cougar out, determined to at least be a man about this and face his embarrassed shame head-on.

"Hey, dude," he says, poking his head around the door frame of the room he's finally found Cougar in. "You got a minute? I wanna talk about something." Which should be like a neon sign to Cougar by now; Jake hardly ever asks to talk about something, he just launches into story and it's up to you to catch up to the narrative.
lastofthekellys: (perched to fly)
[personal profile] lastofthekellys
WHO: Kate Kelly
WHERE: The Inn/Pub's main room
WHEN: 2st December
OPEN TO: E V E R Y O N E not going on science/hunt quest. Hunt a monster, miss a meeting <.<
WARNINGS: TBA as needed

For the past few days, Kate has been spreading the word that there'll be a meeting after lunch today. The previous meetings had been in reaction to something, and to a certain extent, this one is no different. But Kate wants to try something else: planning. Planning on how to deal with the coming months when the weather will only get worse. How to deal with blizzards, storms. How to deal with problems hopefully before they arise.

And, maybe, it makes her feel better doing this. Organising something, now that her comrade-in-practical-arms (Mark Watney) has left her to go trek after a monster. Far, far more practical than having hysterics. Which she won't admit to having to anyone but her cat and Benedict.

(Her tea that night might have been spiked with a dash of whiskey to insure that she slept.)

Today, the weather is cold. There is snow on the ground, and the sun isn't coming out to play. It is the kind of day where people linger over their meals in the warmth of the Inn anyway, seats near the fireplace taken quickly. Towards the end, Kate starts to organise for the meeting. One of the smaller tables is tipped over its side so Ivan has something to write on to take the minutes, and Kate hands him some pieces of precious chalk.

Then she stands on a chair and taps a spoon against a tiny saucepan in lieu of a bell.

"Attention, please! I call this meeting to order. So much as we ever get order. Winter's not goin' away in a hurry, so before we all run into trouble, we're goin' t'come up with some ideas and share knowledge. Not all of us come from the same world, let alone the same environment. If it seems obvious to you, say it anyway, because it might not be to others. Everyone got that? Good."

With that, she steps off the chair and sits on it.

Meeting's begun.

[OOC: Like our other meetings, set-up is mingle and threadjackable unless otherwise specified. Please set up your own heading posts for various topics that your characters would bring up for some organisation, but otherwise, have fun!]
thecatinahat: (uncomfy)
[personal profile] thecatinahat
WHO: Cougar Alvarez
WHERE: By the fountain
WHEN: November 15th
WARNINGS: Brooding | Adult Content in Jake Log
STATUS: Closed

If anyone is coming up out of the fountain, they're in for a rude surprise.

Days go, like it had been as simple as breathing, all of a sudden Carlos Alvarez vanished and years of awful memories came crashing back into his head. Afghanistan, Bolivia, Los Angeles, and all the deaths and bad calls in between. The worst of it is that Cougar can acutely remember how happy he had been for a few weeks, even if he's sure that Jake is pissed off with him and that Raven and Veronica both have plenty of blackmail material on him.

Now he's heaving heavy rocks into the fountain because he can't even shoot anything, which makes him feel useless. Not only is he useless, but he's back to being unhappy and the last thing he wants to think about is how hard it will be to sleep tonight, after three weeks of peaceful rests and sleeping in with no nightmares to chase him, because the worst thing that had happened in that boys' life had been losing his family for who he'd chosen to be.

As it stands, all he wants to do is throw more into the fountain, the heavier of the rocks straining his muscles, but making him feel it. When he throws the next, though, it doesn't hit the water, but instead goes crashing off the side, tumbling down the side of the fountain and in the direction of the path, having done no damage at all. Seeing a pair of feet on the path just by where the heavy rock had ended up rolling, Cougar nudges his hat up with a thumb and gives a nod to acknowledge them, a shrug, and then a single word.

"Sorry." He lets his gaze slide down. "I didn't hurt you?"
thecatinahat: (confused)
[personal profile] thecatinahat
WHO: Cougar Alvarez
WHERE: Outside the bungalow
WHEN: October 18th, PM
STATUS: Closed

Wake up, Carlos, you'll miss your life sleeping in like this )

He's quick to hurry out of that bedroom, but when he tries for escape, his foot comes across a box on the porch. Cautiously, Carlos looks down at it and when he sees his name on the cardboard, he opens it to find jeans, a light pink long sleeve shirt, and a tarp hat, weathered with many logos. He yanks it into his hands and changes in the kitchen swiftly, his stomach growling. He still needs to get out of here, away from the strange man in the bedroom upstairs before someone figures out what he's done.

If this gets back to his parents, then any chance of reconciliation is gone. Hurrying outside, Carlos shoves the hat onto his frizzing, short curls and starts to walk with his head resolutely on the ground, every step a stubborn one.

It's why he doesn't realize for a whole minute that he's not in California, that this isn't home.

The weather is brisk, sending a chill down his spine, and nothing around him makes sense. Suddenly, waking up in bed with a stranger that he can't remember isn't the only one of his worries and he's convinced that he's been kidnapped. He spins to debate going back and getting answers from the gringo, but he's not sure what to think about that man and the situation, so instead, he turns back to study the foreign ground in front of him.

Carlos is lost, without a school to turn to, without an army base to hide behind, and without any friends or family (though they abandoned him long before this). Feeling sick to his stomach, he feels his knees going a little weak as he struggles to find someplace to sit. In the end, he ends up on the very porch of the house he'd been trying to escape from, taking his hat off his head to wring it between his hands, the worry showing all over his face.

If only he could go home, but Mexico is even further than California and home doesn't want him back.
thecatinahat: (two losers)
[personal profile] thecatinahat
WHO: Cougar Alvarez
WHERE: Bedroom, Bungalow #22
WHEN: September 25th
OPEN TO: Jake Jensen
WARNINGS: Adult Content likely within
STATUS: Closed

After years spent being the closest thing the Losers had to a doctor, it's hard to let go of old habits. Cougar's been making trades -- giving up some of his collection, but receiving other gifts -- and he's trying to stockpile himself the items he's most often needed in the field. It also means that he's been keeping an eye on everyone's nutrition and physical state. While he's placed the house on rations to conserve meat, he knows he's keeping them up fine to intake to match outtake.

Where he thinks he's falling down, though, is the actual physical state of people's bodies. This is what he realizes when they're settling down for the night and Cougar clasps Jake on the shoulder, feeling nothing but knots and tension beneath his fingers.

It makes sense, of course. They do nothing but physical labour through every single day. He also doesn't think that anyone is stretching or doing the kind of exercises to keep loose and limber. Honestly, he's surprised no one has strained anything so far.

"Bed," he informs Jake sharply, because from the feel of him, he's one bad pull away from throwing out his shoulder or his back. While he wouldn't begrudge the man a need to rest, Cougar would rather avoid it all together. He'll check with Veronica later, make sure she's doing some proper stretches, maybe even mandate yoga in the mornings.

Right now, all he can do is try and ease some of the physical strain (and maybe then acknowledge that he's got his own issues to work out; it would be very, very nice if he could find a foam roll, but he doubts that the natural resources will provide that to him).
teen_angst_bullshit: (090)
[personal profile] teen_angst_bullshit
WHO: Veronica Sawyer
WHERE: Front porch of bungalow #22
WHEN: BACKDATED to September 19
STATUS: Closed to new threads

Dear Diary,

I am 18 years old and I am a horrible person.

The words just came out, and now everybody knows: I'm a murderer. I'd like to give you some line about it being a big relief, that my inner turmoil has finally been soothed, but I just wish I'd kept my fucking mouth shut. I'm stuck in this place with an apparent rogue's gallery of broken people, but it still bothers me that they look at me differently now. Like an asshole, I'd spun some prom queen fantasy that only Cougar knew wasn't true, and in true masochistic fashion, I've blown it up in my own face.

But that isn't even the worst of it.

Diary, you exist because today I got a box with my name on the top, and inside were three beautiful, fat packs of paper. So much paper. If I'm careful, if I force myself to write small, it'll last me a long time. There's enough to share, more than enough to donate some to the cause of record-keeping. But I don't want to share.

I told you, I'm a total fuck.

Is this simple greed or sabotage? It's like I don't even know myself anymore, Diary. But I do know this: If I woke up tomorrow back in Sherwood, Ohio, I'd really miss some of the people here.

Oh, and I missed my 18th birthday. I don't even know why I care.

Frustrated, Veronica clamps her fingers hard around her pencil with a low huff and resists the urge to throw everything across the yard. She may be a greedy shit, but the paper is too precious, and too much of her time was spent in sewing it into a little journal to treat it like garbage.

So many things are frustrating her anymore, it's difficult to pinpoint a single one as being the cause for how she feels. The water situation definitely doesn't help, Heather at Veronica's shoulder when she looks at her wilted and greasy reflection every morning, congratulations, I didn't know it was possible to fall this far. Vanity rearing its pointless, ugly head.

Settling the little book and pencil in her lap, Veronica leans back against the steps of the house she shares with Cougar and Jake. What would be really incredible right about now would be a drink. It's kind of, sort of her birthday, right? You'd think the benevolent gods of this place could provide some libations.
thecatinahat: (Default)
[personal profile] thecatinahat
WHO: Cougar Alvarez
WHERE: The Inn
WHEN: Hours post-quake, September 6th (pre-aftershocks) / September 6th, evening
OPEN TO: OTA / Closed to Jake (cut content)
WARNINGS: Slight injury
STATUS: Closed

cougar's barbershop of necessity

Cougar's beginning to think the boxes that arrive are possibly saving their lives. He wants to pretend they're from a friendly, but he also knows plenty about being used when needed. For all he knows, the boxes are coming from someone like Max, who is keeping them alive because there are nefarious plans in place for them. Unfortunately, Cougar has learned that you use what you need to and if you have to take advantage, you have to turn the tables for yourself.

The barbed wire that he receives in a box is small, but it will do the job. He really only needs it to create a mesh on the ground to catch the eggs in the small coop he's built for the chickens. The chicks are growing by the day and he thinks with another two weeks, they might begin laying their own eggs, which will take him from a production of three a day to twelve. With a dozen eggs a day, he knows that the food situation can alleviate a little and he can hunt less, which is something he's been worried about as the population of animals is only so finite.

He's on the ground looping wire when he feels something beneath him that troubles him.

The ground had moved earlier in the month, he swears, but Cougar is currently precariously positioned under a wooden chicken coop built without much sturdiness and the quake seems to be getting worse and worse. Sharply exhaling, Cougar bolts upright without thinking, the side of his neck slicing hair and skin as it hits barbed wire and makes him roll onto his stomach, deciding to use the very wire he's been hanging for eggs to protect him from anything that might fall during the quake (which is worse than the last).

Palms flat to the ground, he prays to God that nothing too big falls on him, his quiet litany of words keep going until the ground is stable beneath him. Blood, tacky and dripping, is now pooling at his neck and he crawls his way out of the protection to glance in the first water he can find. He lifts up the other side of his uneven hair as he realizes that the wire has taken off most of his hair to the jawline. While he can patch himself up from the wound, he cannot fix the hair emergency.

Which is why, once he's stitched, he finds the kitchen shears and goes to the inn, plonking them down at a table firmly and sitting there, waiting.

Someone is going to need to help cut the rest off and while he feels like a boy in Mama's kitchen again waiting his turn, he knows he cannot keep walking around with a half shorn head. Best to cut it to the curls, again. It will be short and strange, but it will grow properly, then.

the picnic

Attempted Birthday Picnic Apologies - Closed to Jake )
thenewways: Kira in civilian clothes, looking wary (resistance)
[personal profile] thenewways
WHO: Kira Nerys
WHERE: the Inn
WHEN: Saturday,
OPEN TO: All (August Plot, part 2)
WARNINGS: none at present

When Nerys heard about the boxes that Jo and Killian Jones had found, she was surprised. When she heard what was in them, that they were all marked with intent, the surprise lessened, and now was turning into sinking overwhelming tunnel vision in her head, her gut. The physical sensation of knowing, knowing that someone had plans for you, and those plans were likely ugly--oh yes, she knows it. Just because it's familiar, though, doesn't make it something she enjoys by any stretch of the imagination.

No, it's the kind of feeling that Nerys had learned at a very young age to transmute into anger. The kind of anger that fed her family, then the kind of anger that blew up Cardassian weapons depots, then the kind of anger that kept her focused on her job and kept her people safe.

She knows that if she's feeling this way, things are just as bad or worse for others. While she hasn't been entirely candid with everyone about her past, though she certainly hasn't lied, she's pretty sure she's seen complexity (let's be frank, darkness) in some of the people she's met, and like fuck did they need a full-scale civil war on their hands here.

It's a good way for them all, in the not-so-long run, to die.

Clearly, they all needed to have a gods damned talk before this boiled over, and as Nerys sees no one else volunteering, she steps up, roaming through the village like an old-fashioned crier. "Hey," she shouts at the people in the field, around the town, using the rather powerful pipes the Prophets had seen fit to give her. "Hey. Meeting at the Inn, fifteen minutes. We need to talk."

She gets to the inn in a few minutes' time, then clambers up onto one of the tables in front of Jo's lists, and sits, cross-legged, to wait. Folks filter in, a few at a time, and Nerys taps her jaw with her fingertips, counting out the seconds (she'd like a chronometer, but that'd be like asking for latinum dust). Once enough time's passed, she clears her throat. It doesn't really do much, so she rolls her eyes, then turns up the volume a little--not aggressive, but enough to catch people's attention. She's accustomed to walking the fine line between too much and too little leadership, because unlike her Starfleet colleagues, she doesn't expect the hierarchy of rank and linked formality of sometimes-grudging respect. Makes it easier to actually talk to people.

"Hey. My name's Nerys, for those of you who I haven't met properly yet. You've probably heard what was found out in the forest," she starts. "I figure we should all sit down and discuss it, because the last thing that's going to be any good for anyone is us starting to distrust each other and get into fights. So...let's hash it out, right?"

If she has to scream the 'this is what they fucking want, they want us to hurt each other, fuck them' message into people's heads, she's willing to do that. Eventually. Hopefully someone else will agree.
thecatinahat: (smirks)
[personal profile] thecatinahat
WHO: Cougar Alvarez
WHERE: The Inn / The CJS Bungalow
WHEN: August 16th
WARNINGS: mild injury, potential profanity
STATUS: Closed


The strange boxes had been ignored at first, by Cougar. He doesn't trust them, not just because odd brown boxes with his name on them are usually more bomb than gift. The only things that make him consider looking inside is the fact that Jake had found one (that fateful day) and that there are strange sounds coming from inside the bigger of the boxes.

That had been days ago. The three little chicks are not old enough to yield eggs, but the larger one has been giving off three eggs a day. While he works on the coop (to tide away his tired mind, given that he's not sleeping because of...well, because he's an idiot). Soon enough, they have enough of a home that they're protected and Cougar feels victorious because he has something more than just the rabbits from the snares. It will allow them to ease off the need to hunt meat so regularly, which has been a growing concern.

"Buen trabajo, mi pequeña reina," he praises as he collects that days' eggs, bringing the bowl of them tucked under his arm as he heads to the inn, sitting between Jo's linen sheets posted up on the walls.

With great victory and feeling quite proud, Cougar adds 'EGGS FOR TRADE' in big script under the offering side, before setting back with the bowl. He still intends to hunt, yes, but now that these boxes seem to be arriving, he thinks there is a good opportunity to start stocking up his supplies, even if with only promises for the future.

Closed to Jake

It's been a very strange several days. He hasn't been sleeping more than cat naps (something he waits for a joke about that never comes), so his exhaustion is starting to get to him. He knows that's the only reason why he's so clumsy and when he's collecting wood to put together an enclosure for the chickens, he ends up nicking himself with one of the small, antique hand saws, going too far and cutting into his calf. He collects the eggs for the day and brings them into the kitchen, stoking the fires for the oven. While they build, he digs out the other strange little box he had received, wondering if they had come together for exactly this reason.

The thread between his teeth and the needle in hand, Cougar works on cleaning and patching himself up, a cloth filled with his blood on the table (just because the dog seems eager to eat it) and the oven just about ready to go. He's moving slowly, so tired, but the prospect of fresh eggs and an omelette is more than enough to keep him going. He levers himself out of the chair and heads to grasp one of the heavy pans, filling the pan with the eggs he's been collecting since the chickens arrived (the little ones will not lay for a while, but the older one has been providing a few a day). He knows that he needs to talk to Jake, if only because he can't sleep. There are other things that they have to discuss, because in a fit of a moment, he's said stupid things. He's done stupid things.

And Jake hasn't come back to give him the opportunity to fix it. He's walking a thin line between wanting to barge in and fix it and easing back to give Jake the kind of space he wants and needs.

"Stay," he commands the dog when the pup starts to lean up to try and stand up to try and get closer to the eggs when they finish frying and Cougar plates them up. He uses his good leg to nudge him away, glancing to the upstairs to see if the smell of the food will bring Jake down. While he waits, he settles back down to start cleaning up the now-stitched wound, knowing he needs to sleep at some point before he truly loses his mind.
igotacrossbow: (and that's how i woke up without pants)
[personal profile] igotacrossbow
WHO: Jake Jensen
WHERE: Edge of the woods/Jake's back yard
WHEN: August 8th, mid-afternoon
WARNINGS: Slightly off-key singing, but that's it

Waking up to find a small, yipping box on their front porch had definitely been outside the ordinary, but Jake had fallen head-over-heels in love with the little, wiggling puppy he found inside. He's always been a sucker for dogs. The first day had been spent mostly lying on the floor, playing with the little pup and letting it chew on his hands (he knows he shouldn't allow it to do that, but it's so cute), but then he had to braid it some kind of harness/leash get-up so he wouldn't run away. He may not have a name yet, but Jake would be absolutely devastated if he lost his smol dog son.

The sheet he'd wound up tearing into strips and braiding into a leash for the dog was a pale blue color, and Jake has to admire how it sets off the pale blue of the dog's eyes. His dog is so handsome! He'd taken him on a long walk around the village earlier in the morning to show him off, but then, unfortunately, duty calls. He'd promised Cougar earlier he'd start a wood pile, so despite the distraction of the puppy, he heads out to the forest to start hauling wood back to the house.

Using a rusty axe head that he'd managed to sharpen on a stone and fit with a new handle as the old one had all but rotted away, Jake manages to make it to the end of their little "yard" before the puppy's whining brought him back.

Which is how he finds himself with a dog leash in one hand and an axe in the other, singing to himself as he walks into the forest.

He's worked through most of Sam Cooke's greatest hits by the time he returns to the house, the dog leash tied around his waist so he can still hold the axe in one hand, the other being occupied with carrying the tree limbs he'd managed to hack down. There's a tree stump near the edge of what he considers the yard that will be perfect for splitting wood, and a scraggly looking bush he can tie the puppy to so he won't run away. It's as good a set up as he's going to ever get, so he sets himself to the task at hand, getting into a rhythm pretty quickly with the chopping.

He gets so into the swing of things that he actually starts swinging; his hips, that is. Dancing whilst chopping wood is a delicate maneuver, but he manages it, bopping along to his rendition of soul classics.

lastofthekellys: (our sunshine)
[personal profile] lastofthekellys
WHO: Kate Kelly
WHERE: The Inn & Pub
WHEN: 3rd August

It's been a couple weeks since Kate woke up and nearly drowned in that cursed fountain. She hasn't slept much, truth be told, and she's no closer to feeling like she's wearing proper clothes so she's still wearing her overalls instead of the given trousers, under that flimsy red blouse. Her curly hair is being combed with a fork and fixed as best she can. However, she has been paying attention. To the group and to the food situation. The group isn't exactly a community, but Miss Jo and her curtains of maps and skills have given Kate an idea.

(That, and honestly? The quietness of the inn's kitchen and main room is driving her to distraction.)

It takes time and it takes effort, Kate's idea of a communal lunch. She walks around, knocking on doors, and she asks, begs, flirts, lures-with-promise-of-hot-food people to arrive at midday. The hunters get asked if bring their game nice and early, those more inclined to gather or cook get asked to do that, and others... Well, she'd just like it if people turned up.

After so long being sulky, being this social again makes her sparkle.

With the help of some volunteers in the kitchen, by midday, the meal is ready. Really truly nothing fancy: rabbit stew with dandelions (flowers and plant both) and thistle (stems, leaves, roots and the young flowers) and some other wild herbs to flavour.

But it is food, and it is hot.

[ooc: Party-style post! Post starters in under the subheadings or make your own, volunteer your character to cook or clean or neither, and have fun!]
booklegging: (⇆ although i'm only eight now)
[personal profile] booklegging
WHO: Jess Brightwell.
WHERE: The fountain, the town, and later on, the inn.
WHEN: July 25th.
OPEN TO: Anyone!
WARNINGS: Wet, grumpy teens and probably swearing.

give me sun, give me dirt, give me water )
thecatinahat: (wild haired)
[personal profile] thecatinahat
WHO: Cougar Alvarez
WHERE: Bungalow #22
WHEN: 1AM, July 25
OPEN TO: Jake Jensen, Veronica Sawyer
WARNINGS: Violence, mentions of death
STATUS: Closed

It's a miracle Cougar's lasted this long.

He's been sleeping like the dead, when he does sleep. There have been long days of insomnia that keep him awake and then when he does find sleep, it's without dreams. It's a blessing from God in a place that seems scant on blessings. It's taken this long for him to find respite in sleep and when he does, it's thanks to Jensen's presence and the knowledge that someone else has his back.

It starts like it always does. Cougar thrashes in the bed, tossing and turning as he dreams. As always, it's green. The smell of the jungle is around them and he hears birds. The laughter of children echoes in his ears, rapid-fire, happy Spanish being shared and plans for the future. He hears them from all around him, as if in stereo, but just like always, the dream shifts.

The fires start, claiming the trees around them, and then the bullets. One by one, the children fall, consumed by bullets and fire, but they don't stay dead. They come back to haunt him, aglow and afire with hatred and anger in their eyes.

"You," they chorus, staring at him, "it's your fault."

He can never move, in this dream. Stuck, paralyzed, Cougar can't get away as they crumble to dust, one by one. His little angelitos are slowly dying because he put them on a helicopter and told them everything was going to be fine. He lied to them and now they're dead, twenty-five little angels on his soul.

"No," he murmurs. "No, no, no!" It builds faster and faster, until Cougar is thrashing in his bed, the covers tangled with his body as he starts to scream, the fires of hell opening their gates for him in the dream, beckoning him in for what he did. Sweaty, panicked, and as scared as ever, he flails in the bed as hoarse bellows fill the bungalow and he tries for the knife to defend himself against this waking nightmare.
lastofthekellys: (if you scream does anyone hear)
[personal profile] lastofthekellys
WHO: Kate Kelly
WHERE: The Fountain
WHEN: 15th July
WARNINGS: Potential panic attack

Kate wonders if her family has a touch of foresight. Ned predicted two deaths: Constable Lonigan, Justice Barry, both died as he said. She dreams of drowning and wonders. Wonders and then drinks, not that drinking helps her when she's already asleep and she opens her eyes underwater and thinks, Again?

There's light, which there isn't always, and a current that pushes her up, which never happens, and she kicks, kicks her way up.

(Is it her imagination or is she actually getting closer in this dream?)

There's weight on her back, pulling at her, digging into her shoulders, making it harder to move her arms. Her imagination or no, no, no, something always goes wrong, she always drowns and this is it, isn't it isn't it isn't it maybe she should just swallow water choke and wake up but that doesn't work she can't wake up she just has to kick and kick and kick and swim and oh God oh God she's actually drowning isn't she air air air air she needs air-

She reaches the surface, gasps, bobs back down, then kicks herself up again.


Coughing, spluttering, Kate swims over to the edge of the fountain. She takes a moment to haul herself over the edge, falls, but the fall isn't much. More of a roll until she hits the ground, struggles to all fours, all the while coughing up water fit to throw up.

She knows what she needs to it. Sit up, take stock. This isn't a dream, it's not. She needs to get her long, heavy hair out of the way to see, but she can't. All she can do is crouch, cough, and gasp in air.


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