Sixth Iteration Logs

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WHERE: (Where the post takes place)
WHEN: (When the post takes place)
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sixthiteration

WHERE: Hot Springs
WHEN: 21 Sept, after sunset
OPEN TO: ALL - MINGLE
WARNINGS: Please warn in your subject line as needed
NOTES: Details found here

It's been a strange, rough couple of months for our intrepid villagers — Bunkers, superpowers and clones, oh my! Perhaps the Observers are sympathetic to their plight, or maybe they just have a peculiar sense of humor. At any rate, they've set up a gathering space chalk full of summer camp goodness, no strings attached. Not that anyone knows that part.

Just before sunset, a cheery message pops up on wrist devices all across the settlement and beyond. The instructions seem simple enough, although one does have to wonder at what dubious gift awaits them all after everything is said and done.

Marshmallows are on the house, so grab yourself a stick, strap on a sash and get to roasting, villagers. Skinny dipping, sing-alongs and friendship bracelets optional.

markwatney

WHO: Mark Watney
WHERE: Town Hall & Inn
WHEN: 6 September 2018, Evening
OPEN TO: ALL - MINGLE
WARNINGS: Warn on your threads, please. PTSD is probably a given.
NOTES: Support group mingle! If your character needs some support after the latest meta plot or just generally, send them on over to Town Hall. Also, feel free to do top levels having to do with signing up for a tube monitoring shift. Please let me know if you want a Mark thread, I have notifs off for the post.

So, I have been down to what we all seem to be collectively calling the Bunker. It is... something, to say the least.

For some people it feels like hope and for others despair, and I can honestly see both sides of it. Some people need to feel like they have some control, even if it's illusory — Having a puzzle to possibly solve makes them feel less adrift. For others, it's too much reality, or the perception of, anyway. I can't say I'm personally convinced by any of it.

See, I've been here since the start of whatever this is, with a group that's almost entirely gone now. It's been five months since we were birthed into this expanded world, and I don't know if it's any more real than the last. That isn't me putting on a tin foil hat, that's just respecting the environment. Mars was the same way: You do what you need to do to eke out a life, to survive or even thrive, but it's dangerous to think you have any real control. Everything can go to shit in the blink of eye, and then you're tumbling around in an airlock while your entire food supply is turned to dust.

Don't get me wrong, I'm not saying people should stop hoping to get home, stop trying to figure it all out. I'm just saying we might all be a little easier mentally if we could express how scary it is to know, deep down, that the rug can be pulled out from under us at any moment... And then to accept that feeling that way is okay.

With that in mind, after a little meditating during my daily work in the fields, I put up two notices on the blackboard in the South Village inn:

Volunteers to monitor the bunker tubes for new arrivals, please sign up for a shift on the paper on the bar.

That's one thing we can do, at least. Just the illusion of control, but still important to some people, and definitely helpful for anybody new.

Below that:

Support Group Tonight
Town Hall - 7:00 PM
Everyone Welcome

I don't know how many people will actually show — We've got a surprisingly stubborn, resilient group, in my experience. But even if it helps just one person, it's worth doing.

nonstopnarcissist

WHO: Tony Stark
WHERE: Tube Room in the Bunker, Inn, Forge
WHEN: September 3rd onward
OPEN TO: Initially Bucky Barnes, then Everyone
WARNINGS: Descriptions of Dissolving, Canon typical Violence, Language, Blood, etc.

( so you take another breath. )

sixthiteration

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

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

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

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

pretendtoneedme

WHO: Clint Barton
WHERE: House 13, House 3
WHEN: August 19, August 20
OPEN TO: Peggy Carter, then Claire Temple
WARNINGS: Talk of war? Talking about medical grossness? Mentions of Thanos'ing? Not entirely sure what's going to come up but likely something.

( For Peggy, August 19 )

There's been things circulating around in his brain lately, things that Clint's tried to put to the side in order to just keep keeping on and not fall prey to depression like he had for half of July, but there's just no way he can ignore something that's such a big part of him as his family. It's been a year and a half since he's seen them, and with the revelations that came with people from his home coming into the village from a later point than he had, he had a whole host of new potential worries to obsess over. Doing so wouldn't get him home, he knew that, but he also couldn't help it. They're his wife and children, and what happened to them in the wake of that disaster...?

Normally he'd talk to Nat about this, but sometimes talking to Nat is a little too much like talking to himself. They're on such a similar wavelength, a lot of times not even having to say anything to know what the other is thinking, that on occasion he needs another opinion. Normally that would be Laura, but... And Nat also arrived just recently. He wants to talk to someone who's been here awhile, who has been through more of her share of hard knocks. Which is why one morning, Clint shows up at the door to Peggy's house, wearing the leather jacket he'd scrounged the year before and concealing something under it. Knocking, he stands back and waits for an answer.

( For Claire, August 20 )

Bev had done her best to put Claire back together after the lightning strike, and she'd done a pretty damn good job, but in a place without a lot of sophisticated medical equipment there were obviously going to be a lot of question marks and things that just couldn't be repaired. Claire had stayed with them for a few days so she could be watched over just in case things took a turn for the worse, but only a few - being released from monitoring had let her go back to the house she lived in, and she and Bev crossed paths at the village hospital enough to let Bev keep an eye on her since then.

But Clint hasn't really seen her since then, between projects and hunting, and considering what happened to her he wants to know how she is. He knows Bev would have told him if anything important came up - as long as Claire was all right with him knowing - but he's still feeling the need to check on her in person. The day after talking to Peg finds him walking up to Claire's place, some of the extra meat from his latest hunting trip in a small pouch to hand over to her - maybe in a bribe for some of that coffee he heard about her having.

sixthiteration

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

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

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

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

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

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

digging

WHO: Karen Page
WHERE: House 3
WHEN: 2 August
OPEN TO: Claire Temple
WARNINGS: n/a

It feels to Karen like the whole village is exhausted in a way that sleep really just can't cure. Not that many of them have the option of simply laying in bed all day long regardless, too much to do just to keep all of them alive. For weeks, Karen's felt like she was plodding along, treading water; the last few days are just the salt in the wound. She doesn't really know what she's doing with herself anymore, going through the motions of cleaning up after — After the earthquake, after the monster attack, after... well.

There's still limbs downed all over the village, and Karen's just finished carrying in the latest bundle of sticks she's broken down to supplement their firewood. She probably needs a shower, but settles for washing her hands in the kitchen sink instead, and puts on the kettle.

"Claire?" she calls out into the house. "Do you want tea?"

oorah

WHO: Franky C
WHERE: House 3 > House 6
WHEN: July 31
OPEN TO: Claire Temple
WARNINGS: general nerdliness tbh

[ it isn't long after she'd walked out on him that frank feels the need to apologize. he isn't good at apologizing, just like he hadn't been good at you know, not being a dick. it's midmorning the next day and he has a fresh bouquet of sunflowers for her, tied with cornhusks the same way as the first. and painted on a small dart of fabric is just the letters I-O-U. he thinks she'll know exactly who they're from even without his usual food-shaped monogram. oh yeah, that's right, he fully intends to ding-dong-ditch these babies like he's in the fifth grade.

frank makes his way up to house 3 as silent as ever and deposits the flowers onto the stoop. then he's beating a hasty retreat back across the street with the full intention not to be noticed even in full sunlight. of course, aretha betrays his position, and he can't even blame her. he's never come to the house without taking her somewhere literally ever before, like the cool dad he's still trying desperately not to be, and the bloodhound's ear-splitting braying would make a man half as jumpy as frank jump clean out of their skin. he freezes as the door opens behind him, knowing he's been made. ]

sixthiteration

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

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

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

theluckygirl

WHO: Claire Temple
WHERE: House #3, Inn, Out and About
WHEN: July 11th to end of month
OPEN TO: All
WARNINGS: Sweet delicious coffee, injuries due to getting hit by lightning, will update!!

House #3/Inn | Anytime until 25th

"OH MY GOD WHO.. HOW.. WHEN.."

Claire's voice echoes through and out the windows of House #3 and an excited squeal follows it before she rushes through from her bedroom calling for Karen to see if she's around. She has to show someone before she changes from yoga pants into jeans and heads over to the inn to make herself a cup. Hell, she'll make whoever is there a cup if they want it. It's about time that french press made some real coffee.

Struck by Lightning - 26th - Closed to Clint

Really, Claire should have been a lot more cautious and aware since hearing about two people she knew who were struck by lightning. But she was in a rush to get back to the inn to finish helping with some dishes and before she knew it, a pain shot through her foot and travelled up the entire right side of her body.

Suddenly she couldn't breathe and moments after that she was falling into a heap on the ground and staring into the sky until an abrupt pop sounded inside her head.

theimmortalweapon

WHO: Danny Rand
WHERE: All around the village
WHEN: July 10th to July 13th
OPEN TO: All [* closed to the first person who tags it]
WARNINGS: N/A

FOUNTAIN; JUL 10 *

"I am treating you with respect by being who I truly am. Not everyone around you does the same."

The old woman's voice rang through Danny's head in stern warm notes. He had passed another test, faced another servant of the Hand, he had won and wanted to demand answers about his parents death. Familiar words, taunts, his parents, the monks, Madame Gao . . . Danny didn't know what was real and what wasn't and, before he could get his bearings, he felt himself floating. Water surrounded him, filling his lungs and clouding his senses with its smooth cool touch. A soft push encouraged him towards the distorted light, shimmering above his head, as his lungs began to burn impatiently demanding air.

Was this torture?

He could handle torture, the monk's had taught him to withstand pains and torments before he'd been allowed to obtain the mantel of the Ironfist. Some Ironfist he's turning out to be. Controlled by his anger, he left K'un-Lun, but Danny didn't regret it. Even now, it felt like the right choice. Why else would they have chosen an outsider to take the trial? He had been able to find the Hand. He can stop them once and for all . . .

A fuzzy haze filled Danny's thoughts as cold rain began to beat down on his face, his shoulders and chest. He's floating; an awkward weight pulling at him as his clothes shift and ripple with the steady disturbance of the rain. He tried to remember what he'd been doing . . . Gao, Colleen, Claire? They had been fighting. He's been . . . his head throbbed and his thoughts slipped away from him.

He was floating but for some reason he didn't have the strength to pull himself from the water.

INN; JUL 10

It had taken Danny a few hours to shake off the haze of his arrival. He felt drugged, hungover and wet.

This wasn't the first time he had traveled to an unexplainable world but he'd never thought that it would happen again and without any memory of his arrival to draw on. He'd lived in K'un-Lun for over a decade before the way had opened again, how long would it be until he returned home this time?

He couldn't wait that long.

Danny stripped in front of the inn's fire, hanging the dark green scrub on the mantel in hopes to dry the soaked fabric. Dirty blond curls hung limply around his head as he bathed in the heat of the fire. He watched the flames danced, licking up the side of the logs and curling into the air as light flicker into an invisible heat. It was easy to lose himself to his thoughts and the turmoil that he had felt bubbling inside of him.

The black mark of his dragon tattoo along with decade's worth of hideous scars marked and marred his chest, shoulders and back. Danny didn't look like much, his features were pleasant, cute even, but his body told the story of a man who had ventured through hell and managed to come out the other side.

INN; JUL 10/11 *

Midnight neared and Danny felt the hour approaching like an instant ache in his side.

As comfortable as the bed was, he couldn't sleep. Madame Gao's words hummed like a pained memory in his head, repeating over and over again as if to haunt him. His fingers curled into a fist and he punched the wall of the room shaking the wooden planks that defined and shaped the inn's upper floor. He didn't have the strength of the undying dragon, he hadn't been able to access the Ironfist for days but it felt further away from him now, as if the water of the well had stolen more than just a few hours of his memories.

A groan rumbled through his chest as he pushed himself up from his bed.

Danny didn't consider the noise he was making, he hadn't even thought that punching the wall might rouse someone from their bed or call someone already awake to the source of the noise. His focus was centered on his thoughts and the growing frustration he felt bubbling in his chest.

The door to his room was open and anyone coming to inspect the noise would find Danny standing in front of the window, watching as the rain beat angrily against the glass. He looked tense, angry and once again he was shirtless.

TOWN; JUL 11 THRU 13

It was an hour before sunrise.

Danny hadn't slept well but he wasn't going to let that get in the way of his usual morning routine. He found a small clearing of grass, just outside of the inn, and began shifting through the calming stances he'd learned during his training in K'un-Lun. Those familiar with martial arts will notice that Danny's style is a combination of a few different Kung Fu technics though with a slightly different edge or flair to each motion. He favored forms that were prevalent in Tia Chi but even that couldn't exactly quantify what he was doing.

He trained for a little over an hour, half way through taking off his shirt as sweat and mist dotted his shoulders and back. He felt the cool humidity dance against his skin, warning him of the impending rain, but ignored it.

After training, Danny headed back to the inn to grab something to eat and figure out how he could assist those living in the village. He'd speak to anyone who was around or stand there looking a little bit like a lost puppy. He decided that today he'd explore, cut some wood for the inn and gather his bearings. He didn't like the idea of not chipping in, even if he'd only arrived the day before.

Towards the afternoon, he took an hour to meditate on the lip of the fountain. Danny tried to remember how he had gotten here, what paths he had walked but his memories held nothing but darkness. A low annoyed growl rumbled through his chest before releasing his breath and his anger. He couldn't summon the Ironfist and he couldn't find any answers.

What use was he?

In the evening Danny chopped wood outside of the inn. This time he'd left the hunter green scrub in his room but had grabbed a towel to whip off the beads of sweat that dotted his skin. Rain began to fall in a slow steady dribble but that didn't deter Danny from splintering the thick logs and placing them under the inn's awning so they can dry.

[ooc: Feel free to run into Danny at any time during this last post over the next few days.]

demonic_divinity

WHO: Vergil Sparda
WHERE: The fountain, the Inn, and the village.
WHEN: July 9th and 10th.
OPEN TO: All (* For arrival just one character please)
WARNINGS: None yet, will update as needed.

The Fountain, July 9th*
Vergil couldn't pin when he realized he was in water, but the moment he did he started kicking upwards. His lungs burned by the time he reached the top, a gasping breath escaped him. The need for air as powerful as the need to get out of the strange fountain. He hauled himself over the edge, his scrubs covered knees hitting the ground as he started coughing up the water he breathed in. His hair darkened by the water was hanging in his face as he tried to breath, sitting on his knees, fists against the ground.

It took a few moments before three things became very clear; one, it was raining, two, these were not his clothes, and three, this was not where he had meant to teleport to. His hand shot up to his neck, it only took a second before he realized his pendent was missing.

Sitting up Vergil ran a hand through his hair to get it out of his face. Looking around at the little park he appeared to be in. Looking back towards the fountain he lifted his hand again to try and open a new portal... when nothing happened his eyes widened. "Oh no..." His powers hadn't failed him yet. Looking around as dread started to weigh in, he choose to figure out what was going on before he let a panic truly set in.

Better to focus on whatever this was, than the ache in his heart.

The Inn, evening July 9th
After being brought to the inn and listening to the one that found him, he found himself sitting at a table looking over the record book. All of his plans were ruined and he was upset but a task to focus on was just what the doctor ordered. He had a lot of questions but he didn't want to bother anyone yet... Being surrounded by so many people after what had happened houses before just made it all the more real. This was a new place, a new chance, and a means to forget the betrayals for now.

Anytime he heard footsteps he would look up and weakly smile. His heart wasn't in it right now but he knew networking was always the smartest start to any venture.

The Inn, July 10th
The night before had been interesting to say the least. Learning what he could about his new home before retiring and claiming an empty room of the inn. Waking up he could feel the static in his hair, he felt so different without the power coursing through him. Was this how Kat... hell any human felt? He was stiff and still tired, but the sun was up and he needed to get more information. He moved over looking in the mirror, a bit of black stubble peppering his face, but there was nothing he could do about that for now. He would worry in a day or so. Sometimes he hated how his stubble didn't match his hair, but genetic's were a pain.

He made his way down the stairs, the scrub pants had dried by now so he had them and the t-shirt on. Leaving the rest upstairs. His platinum hair was pushed back but without product it had a mind of its own, a slight static-y curl going on. He hated looking so unkept but what else could he do? He moved over to start skimming the records book again. Figuring he should see what everyone else did around here.

Sixth Itheration Village.
He set out of the inn around noon, taking a moment to memorize the way the inn looked, hoping to be back by sunset. He headed out walking off towards more buildings. Taking note of anything he passed of interest. He didn't have any paper so it was all mental notes but for now he had no idea what else to do. Survivalist wasn't one of his skills. Take down an evil demon king, sure any day... survive in the world without tech or money... nope. He had to find someone or something to busy his time with least he let himself fall into a funk which would make everything worse. His mind kept replaying the look on Dante's face as he stabbed him through the heart, and the sound of Kat, of all people, begging Dante to let him live... He took them both in, gave them a home and a purpose... and they betrayed him. Death would have been kinder. No, alas death wasn't in his cards yet. Despite the dull ache in his heart every time he thought of his brother and the girl he pressed on.

Out of sight, out of mind.

He had a world to explore and learn. Maybe this was a fine new start, even if the weather was dreadful. He did not yet know that he could get sick, the idea had never crossed his mind. Human ailments weren't a nephilim's problem.

ex_enlisted288

WHO: Steve Rogers
WHERE: Village & Environs
WHEN: July 4 - 5
OPEN TO: All
WARNINGS: TBD

All American Star-Spangled Boy

[ There's nothing special about this morning, as opposed to the handful of mornings Steve has had here. He wakes up, changes his dirty scrubs for the other pair, and tidies up his room at the inn. It makes him feel better to have a little order, to be able to do something under his own steam. Then he heads out and takes a run around the village environs. He can't run thirteen miles in half an hour, not like he could back home, but just expending a little energy feels pretty good. Another little bit of control.

And after the morning jog, he heads back to the Inn for a decent breakfast and to see if there are any familiar faces around. Beyond that, he's not sure what to do with himself for the day. Supplies are limited, so he can't buy a drawing pad and charcoal pencils from the corner store, or even an easel and paints. He ends up just wandering around, staying within shouting distance of the village, with an eye out in case anyone needs help. Or just wants to chat.

Because there is absolutely nothing special about today. ]

When You Wish Upon A Star

[ Sometime well after midnight, when sleep is more of an optical illusion than a thing that is actually happening, Steve gives up on staring at the ceiling and counting non-existent sheep. Not that this island has anything as normal as sheep. He throws on some clothes and heads outside to get some fresh air.

But it's not until he gets outside that Steve realizes that the early-hours fresh air is also accompanied with some rain. Rather than turn around and stomp back inside, though, he decides to take his life in his hands and go for a walk. With no super senses. Around a world he's been in less than a month. Because he's just that stubborn.

Time to find out what trouble an insomniac former super-soldier can get into. ]

quinientos

WHO: Vasquez
WHERE: Fountain / Inn
WHEN: July 3
OPEN TO: All
WARNINGS: Cigarette usage, violence, anger

i. drowning rats never looked so good

The last time that Vasquez had been shoved into a body of water and expected to fend for himself, he'd been working a cattle drive at twenty-four, and some gringo working with him had seen a deep pond, considered the hot temperature, and then shoved Vasquez in without a second thought. He never actually learned to swim, but the idea was simple enough that he had climbed out (sopping wet), and strode over to deck the laughing idiot into the ground.

His violence against idiot white men has escalated in recent years, but he's not sure who's to blame for this. One minute, he's in Cadelle and he's arguing with Billy about the fact that he doesn't want opium in his house, the next, he's fucking drowning. He sputters and kicks and fights his way to the top, his hair matted down around his face (and it'll fucking curl, he knows, because he hasn't cut it in too long). Out of instinct, he reaches down for his guns to see if they're waterlogged and ruined, only to find himself stripped of his guns, his lasso, his clothes, and his cigarettes.

"Me cago en Dios," he hisses out, spitting mad, as he hauls himself over the stone edge of the fountain. Who the fuck would trap him down a well? Is this something ridiculous like the bottles of drink or the paint in Cadelle? Or is it another wishing well that he's going to turn into a modern idiot? Whatever it is, he's already scrambling to yank off the shirt he's wearing, not recognizing the fabric at all, in order to squeeze it out, trying to decide where he goes first.

And, depending on if anyone confesses to bringing him here, who gets the first punch this time.

ii. smoke, baby

Instead of being useful and making a space for himself, the minute Vasquez had found the box with his name on it, he'd forgotten everything else in the favour of the cigarillo papers and the tobacco. He'd changed out of his sopping red scrubs and into the dry ones that resembled clean versions of what he had before (but no gun belt, of course not, because he couldn't be given everything he loved). What's most important is the tobacco.

Sitting on the steps of the inn with the box at his feet, Vasquez has been licking papers in between inhalations of the first cigarette he'd finished (he has to test them out, doesn't he?). In between successful creations, he's inspecting the other box for his treasures.

There's a vest, which it's too hot to wear. He's got a hat, which he's using to hold the cigarettes, and he's got his lasso. Grinning around the cigarette pressed between his lips, he digs that out to start working it to the perfect length, inhaling sharply when he hears the crunch of boots coming up the path. The flickerings of a terrible idea come to mind and it's a good thing that Vasquez isn't desperate for friends, because what he does next, well, it's probably not the smartest.

"Hey," he calls over, as much warning as he'll give. "Look out."

Which is all that he gives before he stands and works the lasso into a wide space, tightening the rope when it gets around the shoulders and not the ankles, deciding not to be a complete jackass today. Why go all the way when he's got so much time to build up to it? Smirking as he settles back in his seat, he picks up his cigarette again and gives his new friend a shit-eating grin.

"You can take it off, I won't tug." Maybe, he decides, depending on what happens next.

theluckygirl

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

[ 1st Day - Need one ]

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

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

[ 2nd Day - Hospital OTA ]

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

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

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

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

oorah

WHERE: Fountain Park, The Inn, wherever
WHEN: June 18
OPEN TO: ALL
WARNINGS: tl;dr (sorry), near-drowning, sad bro times, panic attacks idk

it's only water

He comes to with cool water rushing all around him and his heart immediately seizes with panic. The last thing he remembers is stepping through his apartment door after four long months in a city that shouldn't exist. Reims - or was it Rouen? It says something about him that as he looks around even deep underwater he isn't sure whether New York or that silent place was the dream. In a fucked up way, he's banking on New York. It was a kindness he wasn't owed, to see his friends go home after their shared nightmare.

It's taking him too long to get to the surface, he can see the light, he's so close, but he's afraid to splash. What if he's back? Or in another Sound Eater haven? He's trying to remember the list he had compiled. Perth, Yokohama, Bogota, Tehran, Karachi, Moscow, Bangkok, Frankfurt... With every city, he's getting closer to the surface but he's losing oxygen fast in trying to stay silent. However he got here, he doesn't have to get everyone nearby killed because of his fuck up.

Eventually, and it feels even longer than the reality, he spills out of the fountain with a loud slap against the stone, his body hanging over the edge, prone for entire moments. Suddenly - involuntarily - he sputters, puking up water from his lungs and slowly coming back to full consciousness. He blinks rapidly to clear his eyes too, trying to remember dying, but also knowing it never works that way. This isn't the Reset Room, and there's no red dust. Something that becomes all too apparent when he grabs a handful of dirt from the ground sprawling out in front of the fountain. The monsters aren't here yet, so he upturns himself and slips over the side of the fountain as silently as he can.

It's only then that he feels the weight of the pack on his back, missing the familiar shelter of his combat boots when earth sticks to the bottoms of his wet feet. He feels behind him at the backpack, but it's closed with a zipper. He'll have to find a soundproofed place to know what's inside. Hopefully it isn't a bomb???

He dutifully makes his way into the village on silent feet, scanning the area as he goes for anything that seems familiar. Istanbul, Lima, Rio de Janeiro... Nothing. This isn't France, though, not either version he's familiar with. That's honestly the most jarring part, somehow. There's no Constance to greet him, no one shushing him. Just wide open space. He doesn't think he's ever been so terrified in his life, and this coming from a guy who's seen combat. Who's waged it, personally.

The first person he sees will be met with the full brunt of his concerned stare, and it's a doozy. Fear is clearly reflected in his gaze as it darts around, like a wild animal who's been cornered. Similarly, he might bolt any minute, so approach with caution. Or don't, YOLO.

it's only fire

Some wandering and strategic shaking later and a dryer version of the Mayor finds himself inside the Inn where he makes quick work of opening the bag, doing it silently though there are sounds all around him. Soft talking and shuffling that assaults his delicate senses like a category 6 maelstrom. Socks and boots are donned in an instant, just as quietly as he continues to drip on the furniture. This place has to be soundproofed, he reasons, or somehow he's made it far enough away from the monsters...?

In something of a daze, he finds his way to the roaring fireplace and resigns himself to sitting by the flames until he's at least moderately less soaked. He doesn't turn enough to see who comes in, but every time the door opens his face moves towards the sound. It's so - normal. Maybe this is the dream, that would make the most sense of all. Frank pulls his teal scrub top away from his body to help it dry faster, closing his eyes for just a moment. Just one... He nods off, just like that, sitting in front of the fire with his expression deeply furrowed. His eyes twitch like he's dreaming, though it's only been a few moments. Not enough time has passed for REM, but his mind is supplying him images anyway, and if the twitches in his frame are any indication none of them are particularly pleasant.

If he's woken either purposefully by a second party, by someone making too much noise near him, or merely by his own cruel thoughts pushing him back to consciousness, he'll start awake, eyes flying open wide. Though his mouth opens into a gasp, that too is silent. He's dry and warm now, and it's time to move on. He gets to his feet one inch at a time, trying to avoid the crackle and pop of tired bones though one dislodges in his neck anyway and earns a grimace from him. It wouldn't have been enough to get him killed, even in Reims, but any sound is deafening now after over 100 days of consecutive silence.

He shoulders his pack and makes his way back out to the square, and the cacophony of villagers gathering outside causes bile rise up his throat in dread. The wheels on carts and the soft stomp of trudging feet carrying the louder din of voices and laughter have his heart pounding fast all over again. Something is very, very wrong and he doesn't have the data to get to the bottom of it. He'll be frozen there in the middle of the causeway for some time before carrying on to find a quiet place to be alone.

it's only love

Frank will be wandering the 6I/7I village(s) for most of the day until someone directs him more specifically. Feel free to encounter him anywhere along the way.

half_elven

WHO: Elrond
WHERE: Fountain
WHEN: June 18th
OPEN TO: Claire Temple
WARNINGS: N/A, will update if it changes

It began innocently enough, the fading of music and song, until there was nothing but silence and if not for the simple fact that the warmth of the fire also faded, he might have thought naught of it. Yet, with the abrupt absence of the warmth of the fire, there is sudden weight resting against him as if someone or thing had decided to rest upon his back. His back is not the only part of him to feel as if a weight is bearing down upon it and as he sought to pull up and away from the feeling of such heavy restraint, confusion became further rampant.

It is apparent that he is no longer within the familiar hall he'd been within but moments prior, though how he'd been taken from it and dumped beneath some body of water was an unnerving mystery. Whom or whatever was responsible it would seem had sought to hinder his escaping it easily, given the restraints holding whatever weight that rested upon him. It takes more effort than it rightfully should to break the surface and pull himself free of the water. He can only hope that there is nothing around that might attack him as he seeks to regain both breath and sight, one hand endeavoring to untangle his hair from around his face and neck.

While there appeared to be nothing about that would present an immediate threat to him, he was instead presented with even more questions than he'd had prior. The more he observed, the more the mystery grew. It was more than the strange surroundings that he'd never seen the like of before, more than the light-weight clothing and strange footwear he'd been seemingly forced into, there was something inherently very wrong now. While he hadn't yet managed to single out why that feeling was weighing nearly as heavy upon him as the weight his back bore, he both feared and hoped that time would reveal the answer.

sixthiteration

WHERE: Lawn in front of 6I Inn
WHEN: Morning, April 5
OPEN TO: ALL - Mingle
WARNINGS: n/a

The day dawns bright and just a little cool, soft mist rolling over the distant mountains as the forest stretches and yawns in the breeze. It's another beautiful morning in this new-old village, just waiting for its inhabitants to begin filling it with the work of the day.

But this day, there is a surprise. A gift, if you will, not unfamiliar to the old timers, although they know too that sometimes these gifts come with strings.

On the lawn in front of the 6I inn, all of the tables, chairs and even the bar has been moved out into the breaking sunshine. A breakfast feast has been arranged, tables piled high with every imaginable delicacy and comfort food of a certain era: Muffins, toast, coffee, fruit, pop-overs, crumpets, lamb chops, porridge, hot chocolate, biscuits, and every kind of egg, just to start. Even the bar is stocked for those itching for mimosas, mint juleps or irish coffee.

Of course, anyone who has spent time in the wilderness can tell you: In a place gone wild, it's only a matter of time before the scent of food draws in unwanted visitors. Eat up while you can, villagers; you may be sharing your plate soon.

[Please read details here!]

sixthiteration

WHERE: 6I Fountain Park & Elsewhere
WHEN: April 1
OPEN TO: ALL - Mingle
WARNINGS: N/A

In the snug circle of an old park, a fountain sits burbling beneath a broad, midday sky.

Once-neat paving stones have buckled and cracked from the slow nudge of wayward roots. Benches stand covered in lichen and rust. Three paths push into the underbrush like the spokes on a wheel, the encroaching forest creating lush tunnels through the dark.

But the fountain stands singular and pristine, brightly splashing in open rebellion of the deep, muffled sounds of a place long ago gone to seed. A vibration hums through the ground, there and quickly gone, and the water in the fountain trembles, lapping against the high walls of its cool, pale reservoir.

Far, far away, in a place that isn't really there, people begin to blink out of existance.

It is the first of April.

It is precisely ten o'clock in the morning.

[Please see event details and guidelines here.]

theluckygirl

WHO: Claire Temple
WHERE: By her and Karen's place (House #3) and later the Inn
WHEN: March 17
OPEN TO: All
WARNINGS: Baby moose Cuteness

Though it wasn't quite spring, Claire was seeing the beginnings of it starting in and around the village. Sprigs of green were starting to pop out from under the snow and the air took on a fresh smell during the day. But when Claire opens her door and steps out with a smile, it's pretty clear that whatever funk she was in is probably over and done with. She owes that to a few people for their support and shoulder and when she gets a chance, she had plans to find a way to show her appreciation.

Until then, it was life as usual and Claire had been neglecting her normal schedule for too long.

Before she even left the porch, something to the right caught her attention before two more things pulled her eyes over. There, walking towards her was Bub, his new lady that she and Clint named Babs and an adorable little addition that made Claire smile bigger than she had since long before arriving.

Now, most would likely be worried that Dad would be more than a little protective, though it almost seemed they were coming over so he could show off his offspring. Claire was careful regardless and sat up on the top step to show she was no threat.

"I'm impressed, Bub." she spoke, not at all worried how crazy that made her look. Claire laughed. "You didn't waste a minute, did you?"

And for the next little while, Claire lowered down each step until she was able to stretch out a hand to the little one. By the looks of it, he wasn't more than a week or two old. But her expertise was people, not animals and might have been off.

"Hey, Bud," she smiled, glancing up from the young moose to see someone lingering nearby.

Sixth Iteration

Logs

Entries tagged with marvel: claire temple

Credits & Style Info

[MINGLE] Scout's Honor

[MINGLE] Post-Bunker Support Group

Look out to the future, but it tells you nothing

[MINGLE] PLOT: Down the Tubes: Alarm

All We Need Is Just a Little Patience

[MINGLE] EVENT: Birthday Party

[Closed] For Claire

( CLOSED ) Maybe my heart is getting selfish.

[MINGLE] Wendi-go-go to the inn

you've been... thunderstruck

001 - That Was Fast [OPEN]

The selfish blood runs through my veins

(no subject)

(no subject)

death warmed over

( OPEN ) I hope you're comfortable in that quiet plastic grave.

it's only water

it's only fire

it's only love

Natho nin

[MINGLE] Breakfast Feast

[EVENT] The Simulation Ends

smile - see miracles in life everyday