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sixthiteration

WHO: EVERYBODY
WHERE: EVERYWHERE
WHEN: 13 July (afternoon, main quake) - 14 July (morning, last aftershocks)
OPEN TO: ALL - MINGLE
WARNINGS: Potential injuries, PTSD, and anxiety

The sun is still high when the earth begins its initial, almost benign sway, but seasoned villagers know well enough that what follows will be far from gentle. Vibrations ramp up swiftly, exponentially, until within the space of a few seconds, the whole world is shaking — Dishes pinging down from shelves, young trees sifting free of the earth, shingles dislodging and tumbling like rain.

After 20 seconds, the worst is done, and after 30 the shaking has ebbed completely. Some will have escaped relatively unscathed, but others will not have been so lucky...

...and the aftershocks are still to come.

morphogenia

WHO: Kamala Khan
WHERE: around 6i village, peach grove, Inn, House 6; wherever the flowers are blooming.
WHEN: during the rainstorms, July 1-7.
OPEN TO: All
WARNINGS: N/A

It is rain day. Okay, it’s not actually rain day. That was a thing in Reims, but they’re not there anymore. They should stay inside while it rains. That guy Mark even advised them to do it! But, Kamala struggles with the advice because it’s rain day. She feels like she is going to vibrate out of her skin. She is not sure she can take this until predictably she finds an excuse. Frank makes it easy as usual. He is setting a bad example for her to follow. How can she resist? She is supposed to be a rebellious teenager, after all. Rebelling against strangers is easy too.

Another help? There is mystery to solve. Flowers have been blooming all over since the storms started. She can’t help wanting to figure out the meaning of it. She spends every storm essentially following the trail of flowers for as long as she can. Of course, that can’t be all she does. Sure, she’s basically on a kid’s adventure that the children she used to hang out with in Reims would appreciate, but she is still living in a household. She wants to contribute if only to make her parents proud later when they’re reunited… and maybe tease Aamir a bit.

When the trail goes cold, Kamala opts to go borrow the fishing kit from the Inn and see what she can catch out there. On other days, she goes picking peaches in the grove. They have an animal now. They have keep it fed, right? Plus it’s fun. That’s important too when you’re missing home. Along the way, she’s naturally collecting samples to study with what she can borrow to study them with… aka a magnifying glass so far at House Six and the Inn respectively. Look she will work this out even with limited resources. Just try not to judge her while she’s at it, okay?

ashandflame

WHO: (Who is making the post)
WHERE: fountain; Inn; around the village
WHEN: 5 July - 7 July
OPEN TO: all
WARNINGS: TBD

the fountain

The first thing she feels is burning and for a moment, a brief moment, Jean's afraid it's the Phoenix again coming to collect its debts. Great. The last thing she needs is a cosmic entity cashing in its chips right now when she isn't even sure where she is. It takes her a few seconds to realize she's actually under water and there's a push from beneath her, a swell of water that seems to be moving her toward the surface.

Boy, she's glad she took those swimming lessons as a kid. Otherwise, this would be a pretty ignoble end to Marvel Girl. She can just imagine the obituary now: Rest in Peace, Marvel Girl, Died in a Horrible Swimming Incident. When her head breaks water, she clutches at the edge of the pool and opens her eyes.

Huh. This isn't Klyntar and it's not New York - at least not a part that she's been to recently. She hauls herself out, coughing and sputtering, and looks back at where she came from. It's not a pool, it's a fountain, and there's not even any change at the bottom to justify the trip.

"Where am I?"

the inn

It doesn't take long for Jean to find the Inn. The fountain park isn't far from it and the old adage about all roads leading to Rome seems to hold true in this place. She's still dripping wet and wearing scrubs like she's a doctor or nurse instead of a member of the X-Men and she wonders what kind of place this actually is. How did they get her uniform off? It takes her a good thirty minutes on a good day and wet? Forget about it. Still, she can't dwell on that right now. Right now, she needs to figure out how the heck to get back home and what she's going to do in the meantime.

The strangest thing is the quiet. It hadn't hit her at first, breaking free of the water in the fountain, but now in the Inn with people around she's noticed it acutely. She can't pick up any thoughts, not even the low murmur that she gets when she's not actively tuning into something. Weird. Beyond weird. It's like waking up and feeling like she's lost a limb or something and Jean hasn't decided how she feels about it.

There's food in the kitchen but Jean doesn't have any money so she awkwardly hangs around the fireplace, trying to dry off enough that she can sit down in one of the chairs without soaking it clean through.

the village

It takes a day or so but Jean finally feels comfortable enough exploring the village and the surroundings. There's some woods just outside the outcropping of buildings and while she's never really been comfortable in the woods, she's not afraid of them or anything like that. She takes the pack she has with her and fills it with some fruit (it's the only thing she can think to pack that won't go bad and is easily replaced) and decides to head out. She doesn't want to just sit idly by and wait for a rescue when she's capable of staging her own rescue, thank you very much.

Of course, said rescue sure would be easier if she had her telekinesis. She can't summon up a psi-weapon, a shield or anything to keep herself safe out here. She's picked up a likely looking stick, yes, but that's not going to help her if she comes up against a bear or something. She can just imagine what Logan would say about this (what the hell do you think you're doing, Jeannie, going out without supplies?) or Storm or any of the other X-Men who run the school but she's not a kid anymore. She's grown and while she's not the other her, she can handle herself.

She can do this.

chosenbytheocean

WHO: Moana
WHERE: The Forest & The Inn
WHEN: July 5th - 15th
OPEN TO: Closed
WARNINGS: Fighting/Violence most likely...

The Inn - July 5th - 10th

Moana wasn't sure what to make of it. She had found the heart over a week before but hadn't thought to show it to anyone. She kept it in her grandmother's necklace which was now useful as well as a keepsake of the only family member who truly understood her.

She sat on the floor near the fire place. It was to hot to have the fire going but this had been Moana's seat since winter. She saw no reason to change that now. Itiiti, the little piglet, was snuggled against the side of her skirts, enjoying the feel of the grass around his round little body. She looked down at him briefly, smiling before she gently opened her necklace.

The heart dropped lightly into her palm, glowing a familiar green light.

"Why are you here?" She asked the heart as if it might be able to reply back to her. She'd notice that the strength of it's glow had been changing. Right before the earth quake and now she felt that it was dimming. Like a heart beat that was slowly reaching it's end. "Please. Please don't die. I need to return you to where you belong." Moana begged softly, curling her fingers protectively around the stone.

The Forest - July 8th - Bear

She knew that the heart brought trouble, Moana had seen it first hand on two separate occasions, but she hadn't thought that it would happen here. This village, this realm, felt so far removed from the world she knew. Surely no one knew what the heart was or what it could do.

She'd been wrong.

It still brought trouble to it's bearer though it was a little different from before. Moana had been walking through the forest, following behind Itiiti as the little pig sniffed out mushrooms and other eatable roots. She had a small basket with her that was half filled with things that she planned to bring back to the inn. With the crack in the rocks and the damage to the town, food that could travel seemed more important than before.

Her fingers sank into the earth as she dug up a handful of fungi. Itiiti bumped her elbow, sending Moana face first into the dirt. Her necklace popped open as she hit the ground and the glowing green heart rolled out of it's hiding place. Moana pushed herself up and reached for the stone. When she her fingers touched the smooth surface of the Heart she heard a roar echo threw the forest. The ground trembled and she thought it was another aftershock of the quake. It wasn't. The trees parted and a large black bear lumbered into view.

"Itiiti Run!" The piglet didn't need to be told twice. He squealed and took off into the woods. For anyone who ran into Itiiti he'd be too frightened to lead you back to his owner.

Moana scrabbled to her feet, wondering if she'd somehow stumble onto the bears home. Her basket of roots and mushrooms had fallen over and now sat a few feet to her left. Against all logical reason she reached down to try and gather up the food back into the basket. "Please stay away." Moana was used to monsters that could understand her and talk. She's never seen a bear before.

The Inn - July 15th
Place Holder. ooc: Heart looses it's glow. Unsure if Moana will have traveled to 7i by then or not. Pending how the meeting on July 10th goes. She wants to see the ocean as soon as she can. ~~And try to get a boat there so that she can try and sail across the ocean.~~ I might also have another prompt up where Moana is being chased by wolves on the 11th or 12th if anyone is interested in that.

9601

WHO: Logan Howlett
WHERE: Bungalow #58, the hospital and the village
WHEN: July 1st-2nd; before & after earthquake things
OPEN TO: closed & open threads (see headers)
WARNINGS: Depictions of injuries, claustrophobia, and a lotta swearing

July 1st - bungalow #58 - Jean and Peeta

The day started normal enough, if by "normal" one meant "blazing hot like the last fucking some odd weeks". Logan had already spent enough time after the morning forage fussing with the furnace, sweeping out ash and soot, stacking wood in its iron belly, and coming upstairs to check Jean's progress with the plank of sulfur shelf they'd returned home with. There was an odd quiet about the place that unsettled him, something he couldn't really put a finger to. As he crossed the yard for another armload of wood to take to the cellar, he expected birdsong in the trees, maybe another jay ready to scold him for getting too near her nest, but no. There was nothing.

With that bit of strangeness in mind, and firewood to carry, he was maybe halfway down the cellar steps when they began to move. Undulate, really, with a rumble of the earth that seemed to surround him all at once, engulfing him in noise so swiftly he barely had a chance to turn around. Dust and dirt rained from the ceiling, then debris- a beam snapped and clocked him across the forehead.

Logan awoke a little while later in darkness. There was an odd tangibility to it, cold and hard and pressing in across his lower body, an inexorable weight he couldn't seem to move. Resting on his side, the world came into focus slowly, and with it an awareness of aches radiating from all over his body. The worst was his head, a feeling like he'd taken a baseball bat right to the temple, throbbing angrily against his metal skull.

Someone was calling his name, someone familiar. He grunted, tasting wet, bitter earth on his teeth. A dull sound like the steady drumbeat of rain on the roof seemed to echo down to him as well, and he coughed, the air thick with dust.

"Kitty?" Logan coughed again, feeling dirt shift when he drew a hand to his face, his clumsy fingers meeting wet skin. "Jean? Are you all right?"

July 1st - 2nd - hospital - ota

Logan was a terrible patient. The bruises he could deal with, and had intended to, but the wicked cut just beneath his hairline was a different matter altogether. He abhorred feeling weak, just as he abhorred feeling useless, and no amount of reminding himself that he'd lost his power to heal was going to make him feel any better. As the village sprang to life under the rain and the earthquake and all those little aftershocks, he wanted to be out and in the thick of all of it, doing something other than reclining in bed with a wicked headache, feeling like he'd been hit by a bus. Getting up just made it worse though.

Getting up made him dizzy, and the floor feel like it was going to rush right up and slap him in the face. So there he was, having to rest, and all the while incredibly surly for it.

Anytime someone new happened to arrive, whether just to poke their head in to be a looky-loo or to drag an injured friend to an empty bed, would get their asses grilled within an inch of their lives:

"What's happening out there?"

justphases

WHO: Kitty Pryde and you!
WHERE: Fountain, Inn, the Forest/Lakefront
WHEN: June 20th-June 22nd
OPEN TO: Everyone!
WARNINGS: Possible discussion of death/injury considering her canon point
STATUS: Open

( ...And promise not to promise anymore )

powerunleashed

WHO: Jean Grey
WHERE: Woods, House 58
WHEN: 13 June
OPEN TO: Logan Howlett
WARNINGS: TBA
STATUS: Closed

( takin' up a fraction of my mind )

theintercessor

WHO: Jude Sullivan
WHERE: Fountain, House 23, Schoolhouse
WHEN: June 7 + the night, day, and next day after.
OPEN TO: All
WARNINGS: Mentions of death, bodies, general horror genre stuff in the intro; insect hallucination in the final prompt. Please see his opt out in the comments of his profile.
STATUS: Open

( introduction )

fountain

Jude learned at an early age to play his cards close to the vest, and that fear should be chief among them. If people thought you weren't afraid of anything, they wouldn't have anything to use against you. He'd taken every dare, stared down every asshole, pushed himself through every heart-pounding moment until he could stand on the other side of it, a little harder but alive.

The only one he couldn't shake, but had at least managed to hide, was the fear of water.

He's been in it plenty of times since the first and last time he drowned. He's jumped off old ropes into lakes, he's taken the dive off the quarry's edge. He's gone under and held his breath just to prove he can handle anything the other guy can, but he'd been in control every time. He'd chosen it.

He didn't choose to be drowned in the tub when he was eight, seeking some higher power, and he didn't choose to wake up in it now, the burn in his nose and throat something from a nightmare.

Fear isn't a good motivator, but it certainly prompts action, narrows everything away from how and when and why to kicking until he pushes against a hard surface, even if it just sends him into another at his back. The space explored that much, he kicks again, shoving himself between walls until he finds he can touch them with hands outstretched, guide himself up and out of the water with a splash and hacking, whooping series of coughs. He rolls over the edge, then several times on the ground for good measure. His body catalogs dry earth, hard stones, and short grass, and the discomfort at his back turns out to be a pack when he finds the wits to examine himself.

Not his clothes, not his bag. Kneeling, he's still choking when he rips open the zipper, leans to one side without getting a look at the contents when he vomits up water and bile. He doesn't know when he last ate, he can't seem to stay conscious enough to keep track of time.

It wasn't this bright when he blacked out. It wasn't this bright, and strange as it isn't to find himself in a wooded path, last he checked the town didn't have a fountain. Coughing into his elbow, he skirts his gaze over it, taking in the treeline, the branching paths, the overbearing sun. This isn't the first time he's blanked or blacked out, woken up somewhere different, but it's the first time he's woken up somewhere new.

Looking down at the pack, its contents don't appear to be anything he recognizes as his or immediately useful, and he pushes himself up to wander around the edge of the fountain. "Dad," he calls only once, weakly, before a new kind of fear sends him into the cover of the trees.

( house 23 )

( Schoolhouse )

[Feel free to tag in with the explicit starters or something in-between: Jude wandering the trees away from the fountain, casing the house, peeking out windows, etc.]

9601

WHO: Logan Howlett
WHERE: Fountain & throughout town
WHEN: backdated to the 21st + onwards
OPEN TO: Arrival closed to Jean; OTA otherwise
WARNINGS: vituperative swearing and a hot, sweaty Canadian?
STATUS: Open

>>21. fountain

( meet me there )

>>23. woods

A couple of days in, and he wasn't feeling any better about his situation. Yesterday he'd scoffed at the idea that there was no way out of the canyon, and though others before him had combed every inch of the perimeter of that strange place, he still had to see for himself. Hours later and he'd just ended up pissed off. Logan had new scratches, several split fingernails, a motherfucking sunburn and an aching ass when he'd taken a hard fall from the canyon wall, any handholds having disintegrated beneath his grip.

Today, he was up early in the morning while it was cool out, well before the heat could make an appearance, and he was a man on a mission. Without much in the way of housing options, not inclined to trust the random assortment of village weirdos, he was staying with Jean. Well, a younger version of the Jean he'd once known, an uneasy arrangement he still needed to get his head around.

The house, at least, was much more straightforward than guilty feelings and awkward silences, a catalogue home the likes of which he hadn't seen for a long time, even before the sentinel war. No one built homes like it anymore, not cozy little bungalows of this stripe, and though sound in construction, it had clearly seen better days. If he was going to stay - temporarily, because he'd find a way out - he was going to make sure his digs weren't falling apart. He could do that much for Jean.

"The roof is shit," he'd announced to her the previous afternoon, trying to shore up what part of his pride had been damaged. Logan had pried up a section of broken shingles and dropped it into the grass for her to see, a taste of just what several days of hail had wrought: splintered wood and an easy recipe for leaks. Fixing it, well...that would take some doing, but it wasn't out of the realm of possibility.

That was what he was up to this morning, an axe over his shoulder and, curiously, a mallet tucked in an overall pocket, while he wandered among the trees. A few times he stopped at one or another, touching a hand to the bark and letting his gaze roam up into the branches, before he shook his head and moved on. To anyone else, he probably looked a little odd- and there was someone else out there, tending to something he didn't really care about. He just as soon assumed they were trying to beat the heat the same as him. Everyone in the town seemed to occupy themselves in one task or another for the good of the whole, something he could respect. Back home, it was much the same. It had to be that way when resources were thin on the ground, when you were constantly on the run.

At last, not too long into his search, he found the right tree, a red cedar standing straight and tall. A quick walk around had him sighing in satisfaction, even giving the trunk a little pat. Now he could start.

"Hey! Lookie-loo. I wouldn't stand there," Logan called out to his fellow forest compatriot. He stepped back to widen his stance, hefted the axe, and swung for the trunk.

>>later: town

Logan ended up making a day of it with the tree, stripping bark, cutting shakes, and bundling together greenery to process for other uses. Even his first, mangled efforts to cut shingles weren't spent in vain, just simply tossed aside to be repurposed. Truth be told, he found a sort of quiet enjoyment in the work, in putting a lot of his old knowledge to practice. It didn't give him the time to dwell too much on his situation, which he preferred. Let him get these tasks handled and there was no time to worry.

All throughout the late morning, he could be found carting things back to the house, whether shakes or branches or boughs, tied with bark cordage. By the afternoon, it was getting far too hot for his liking, and he was hurrying a bit with a last stack of shakes, ready to be done with this portion of his pet project. The rest of the tree could be left almost indefinitely where he felled it, if he needed it again in the future. He wasn't paying too much attention to the path itself- he's had a headache the past half hour that hadn't put him in the best of moods. When someone came across him, he almost clipped them due to inattention.

"Watch it-" Too late. A handful of lovely red shingles tipped off the top of the stack and went cartwheeling across the path. Logan sighed, a sharp noise of displeasure, and shifted the stack so he could bend and grab for one of the flat rectangles of wood. Bad idea- a wave of dizziness hit him, and made him teeter just for a second before he straightened, pressing the heel of his palm to a temple, squinting through that flicker of red.

fishermansweater

WHO: E V E R Y O N E
WHERE: The waterfall
WHEN: During the hot weather in late May
OPEN TO: Anyone
WARNINGS: PROBABLY NAKED. cw your warnings in individual threads.
STATUS: Open. THIS IS A MINGLE, have at it, tag around, you know what to do. If you want Finnick, let me know in the comment subject!

He wouldn't actually say it was really hot yet, but it's definitely getting to the sort of temperatures that make Finnick miss swimming. There's no substitute for the sand of a beach underfoot, the reassuring roar of the surf, the taste of salt in the air, but there is at least water here, tumbling down from the waterfall and flowing through the canyon until it disappears into the rocks to the south. And he knows from constantly checking his fish traps that the water is deliciously cool.

He's tested out a few spots along the river for swimming, and it's good to be in the water again, after being kept out of it for so long by the harshness of the winter. Not swimming doesn't feel right to him, and it never has. He's never spent this long somewhere with a winter this cold, and he can't remember ever going this long without swimming. So Finnick's been testing the water out since before it was probably what most people would consider to be warm enough to swim. It had helped that he and Annie had some gifts to hunt for in the river, but those have long been found, and now it's just for relaxation.

The calmest, most relaxing place he's found so far for swimming in the river is the pool at the foot of the waterfall, where the water plunges into the canyon crisp and cool from the heights of the cliffs. It's deep around the falls, and it's big enough to swim, and Finnick spends most of the hottest parts of the day there.

So whenever he hears someone talking about the heat while he's dropping food off in the village, he suggests they try the waterfall pool. Word's likely to get around, so he won't be entirely surprised to find other people stopping by the falls.

When they do, they're likely to find him swimming around the deep part near the falls, stripped down to his underwear and, from the grin on his face, having the time of his life. It's clear just from looking at him that he's good at this, moving through the water with a confidence and grace more like to a sea-creature than a man. He's in such a good mood that he even calls out to greet many of the people who approach.

Of course, he's not the guardian of the waterfall: everyone's welcome to stop by whether he's there or not. Once or twice, there's even a moose to be seen standing at the edge of the pool taking a long, relaxing drink.

scepterschild

WHO: Wanda Maximoff
WHERE: Home/Inn/Woods
WHEN: May 1st - 8th
OPEN TO: EVERYONE
WARNINGS: None yet
STATUS: OPEN

Home - May 1st – Early Morning

It wasn’t unusual for Wanda to be woken by her nightmares. They came more readily here than they had at home, playing over every loss and uncertainty like a Scooby Doo rerun on TV. Lately her dreams have been about her brother and more often than not she’d find herself jolting awake by slinging a ball of red sparks across the room. This morning brought no damage to her surroundings. Her heart pounded frantically in her chest while sweat matted her long dark hair to her neck and shoulders.

She was quick to get dressed, pulling on her jeans and the white tank top that she’d been given on her arrival. The house was warm though she could feel the morning chill creeping like thin tendrils through the air. With a heavy sign Wanda kicked open the door to her room and headed down stairs to see how much of the night’s fire was still burning in the hearth. Her fingers laced through her hair pulling the brown silky strands back from her face. When she reached the living room Wanda extended her fingertips out towards the far side of the room, willing her powers to move a log onto the fire.

Nothing happened.

She called for her abilities again but nothing happened. "Move." She kept her hand pointed towards the far side of the room, her voice harsh as she glared at the stack of logs. "MOVE!" Wanda shouted as she quickly stepped towards the small stack of logs, kicking the one she’d been commanding halfway across the room. The log thumped loudly against the floor. She wanted to scream at the piece of wood but what little self-control she had stopped her.

Woods/Around - May 1st - All Day

Eventually Wanda left her house. Tension was set in her shoulders as she walked straight for the forests edge. She didn’t want to believe that her powers were gone, that there was now nothing she could do. She was helpless, defenseless. She couldn’t protect anyone.

She’d had her powers for so long; she didn’t know how to handle them being gone.

When she reached the trees she shouted, listening to her pained cry carry over the canopy. She kicked at the trees around her, her boots stopping with every solid object that she’d come into contact with. Rage, pain, fear, frustration and hate mingled in her chest as she lashed out at everything around her. She threw a fist into the tree, feeling the rough texture of the bark scrape and bruise her knuckles. Again and again she hit the trunk of the tree, wishing she could push all of her feelings away.

When she returned her town her knuckles were bloody and brushed, her hair matted to her neck where a thin layer of sweat covered her skin. She looked tired and worn out, having managed to release the bulk her frustration in the woods.

Inn/Around - May 2nd - 8th - Brooding

Wanda could be found in many places throughout the village. She was determined to prove that being without her powers didn’t change anything. She knew it did but it was the only way she could fight the frustration that knotted and grew uncomfortably in her chest.

Early in the morning Wanda would split wood for her home, occasionally kicking a piece of timber that wouldn’t split properly. She helped Kate preserve the meat at the inn; this never required the use of her abilities and was now one of Wanda’s favorite tasks. While every other after noon she could be found cooking at the inn, using the few spices that she knew and testing the ones she didn’t. Wanda wasn’t sure when the last time she ate was. She remembered making food but not eating it.

In the evenings Wanda dreaded to return home. It was when she was trying to sleep, alone in her room that she’d lose herself to her thoughts and her doubt. It was stupid. She knew that but so many things were changing and there was nothing she could do to stop it. A distraction, all she needed was a distraction.

She could usually be found sitting at a random table in the common area. There was a button on the table in front of her; sometimes she’d spin it on its side with her finger while other times she’d just stare at it, expecting something to happen. Towards the beginning of the month she’d search for any abandoned liquor from the feast, welcoming the dizzying sensation that it brought with it.

3ofswords

WHO: Kira
WHERE: Behind the Inn
WHEN: April 21st
OPEN TO: All, Spring Feast mingle post
WARNINGS: Please warn for content in comment headers for individual OTAs
STATUS: Open

He's hardly the first to arrive for a shift in the kitchens, but those ahead of him have sunk into the the search for the building's chairs and tables--the kitchen is open and empty, the tavern devoid even of stools. It's another wrench in the works, one of the smaller reasons for routine to fall apart to reactions, and Kira thinks they'll have a better time of solving it if someone gets the fire up in the stove and everyone eats first.

The damage assessment has people upstairs, people on the path wandered out of their homes. Kira hadn't come through his own dining room on the way out, so he can't say if he's missing furniture or not, and his growling stomach doesn't much care.

It's when he slips out the side door of the kitchen in search of fresh kindling that he finds it. Every missing table and chair standing in the grass, laden with platters of food, buckets of bottled drinks, carafes of what he finds to be coffee sending steam from their lids. There are pastries with the coffee, roasted fowl gleaming golden on the next table, between ham hocks shining with honeyed glaze, large fruits piled among wreaths of fresh flowers.

Dotting the tables are jars, more jars than they've had since he arrived, flickering with short candles. Garlands accent the tables, carry from them into the trees, a web of spring decoration with a feast at its center. Between the platters are smaller plates, small chocolates laid out under decorative drizzle.

"Hey!" he calls back through the door, blinking several times to make sure the sight doesn't shimmer away into the air. "I found the furniture, and I don't think we'll need to cook anything today."

fightsinheels

WHO: Isabelle Lightwood
WHERE: The Fountain, The Inn, and probably the rest of the village, too.
WHEN: 18th.
OPEN TO: OTA
WARNINGS: Your general panicked-crawling-out-of-the-fountain, some violence because she might punch some people
STATUS: Open

The Fountain; somewhere hanging in between

She's dreaming. She's back at the Adamant Citadel, where the Iron Sisters reside and craft their weapons. This is one of the places she's always dreamed of going, wanting the meet the highly renowned Sisters and see the Citadel with her own eyes. But when she'd gotten the chance to lead up that mission, she'd managed to mess things up. This time, when she's in the water, she doesn't burn. It doesn't bubble and mark her of the sins she's committed, of the impurities she's put herself through.

This time, the water is cool against her skin, and her white dress clings to her thighs. When she opens her eyes, she can see sunlight streaming through the water's surface. She reaches out to touch it, to break her fingers past the surface. But it never happens. The pool at the Citadel isn't that deep.

Her lungs begin to burn. She reaches further, trying to push herself upwards. There's nothing for her feet to find purchase on, and she finds herself scrambling, panic beginning to set in. There's no way she can die like this. Not after dedicating her life to fighting demons. A pool of water is nothing compared to some of the things she's faced, she can't--

Fingers break the water's surface. Air touches her hands, and one last push has her surfacing complete, dragging in a deep breath. This isn't a dream — it's a nightmare. Her surroundings are unfamiliar, her clothes are unfamiliar, her hair hangs wet and heavy around her, and she can only imagine how terrible her makeup must look. But more importantly, she needs to find the others. Alec, Jace, Clary, anybody.

This has to be some sort of portal gone wrong. Really, really wrong.

The Inn; my life and the death of me

She searches. She searches, and she searches, and she searches. There's a police station holding farm animals, a hospital and a town hall that she peers into. Dozens of houses, of which she looks through the windows of. Some appear empty, some appear occupied. Some actively have people in them, and she's always quick to duck away before she can be seen. It would probably be helpful to talk to some of the people she sees, ask them if they've seen her friends.

Normally, she's willing to give everyone a chance. Right now, she doesn't know who she can trust and who she can't. Any of these people could be the reason she's here, and she needs to gather her bearings first. There was a pack with her when she climbed out of the fountain, and she's already searched it. Clothes, mostly. No stele, no whip, no weapon of any kind.

All she has going for her are the runes already burned into her body and her natural angel-infused powers.

After searching the village, she delves into the woods. Here, there are less people. Here, she calls her brothers names until her voice is hoarse. She searches and she yells until she's lost track of time, and she all but tumbles out of the woods, sticks and leaves stuck in her hair. For once, she doesn't care how she looks. She walks towards the lights of the town, and walks into the Inn. She'd peered through the windows before, but deemed it too full and busy to go inside.

But now, she doesn't care. She doesn't care how she looks, or how many people she runs into. She's tired and she's dejected and she has no idea where she is, or what's going on, and she needs some answers. It's warm in the inn, and there's a few people around. She clears her throat, and picks a few sticks from her hair before speaking up, voice strained and raw.

"Would somebody mind telling me where the hell I am?"

[ ooc: feel free to find her around the village too! ]

welshdragon

WHO: Henry Tudor
WHERE: The Inn
WHEN: 4/3
OPEN TO: ALL
WARNINGS: Talk of war and death.
STATUS: OPEN

He had felt as though he were on solid ground when the battle had concluded and breath returned to his lungs. All else had been a spinning wheel, determining where fate should land and where his life would fall. On Bosworth soil or in a king's bed? How could he know that neither choice were upon the board. He had felt the weight of the crown in his hands, the feel of the eyes of his men, and the overbearing awe that it had all ended. The war was waged and won, the will of God had been fulfilled and his destiny was no longer an idle dream. He could remember staring down at the mud covered crown and wonder "What now?"

The answer was a swirling mass of water, filling his lungs and churning about him as he kicked towards the surface. The fountain, for it was a fountain, was the source of his arrival. Magic was at work, though he didn't ask many questions when he had been found. He remained silent and listened, following the advice of others and choosing a place to stay. It was well with him. He needed to sleep and rest his mind, already weary from the long battle.

Once he woke and felt able to comprehend it all, he left for the inn that had been shown to him. There were others there, the sounds of life and merriment (as much as there could be). There was a chair by the fire and a woman that handed him tea. With a tired expression, he stared into the flames. It was no dream, this place was unknown to him and now he was stuck here.

The question returned: "What now?"

kosu

WHO: Spock
WHERE: canyon wall, inn
WHEN: March 19 - 21
OPEN TO: All
WARNINGS: N/A Will update as necessary
STATUS: Open

March 19 - Canyon Wall

Spock had thus far been lucky to escape the lightning bugs, taking care to avoid any swarms of bugs she had spotted in the distance. Even before realizing the side effects, Spock had been disinclined to study the bugs. Her new, human body was far more prone to injury than the body with which she was accustomed, and part of the avoidance stemmed from a lack of desire to be stung.

That sentiment only applied to the bugs because Spock had been spending an increasing amount of time near the canyon walls, studying them for a possible means of escape. She had been in the village for a month, with no concrete plan to return to her ship and no ability to leave, which was not at all her style. While she lacked the talent for creative problem solving that many of her human peers did, Spock was equipped with stubbornness and vast knowledge, even if it was somewhat harder to remember all of her knowledge and her recall was not as exact as it would have been were her physiology still that of a Vulcan's.

Logic dictates that a canyon wall has to lead somewhere. If she could simply reach the top - and even knowing that her fellow companions in the village would have attempted such a feat did not stop her.

It was the lightning bugs that stopped her. Not even that far up the wall of the canyon, the bugs swarmed over her, a stinging mass that surrounded her for a few minutes, causing her grip to slip on the surface, and sending her tumbling to the ground. Normally a fall from such a short distance would have been nothing for her, and she had learned from a young age how to fall so to not damage anything vital, but it still left her bruised and gasping on the ground.

"Pain is a thing of the mind," she ground out, muttering to herself as she attempted to clear her mind. Meditation would not help now, but at least the familiar mantra was a distraction.

There was a benefit to the fall, and to her attempt to meditate: she failed to pay attention to the fact that she had been stung.

March 20 and on - Inn, around the village

After her disastrous fall from the canyon wall and the subsequent fever from the lightning bugs, Spock had elected to stay a little closer to the village. She would be found at the Inn and the buildings close by, exploring more of the place she in which she was currently forced to live, as it stood to reason that she would be there for a little longer than intended.

For now, that meant figuring out a better idea of the location, and what was readily available. As she healed up - or rather, as soon as she could move without visually displaying traces of discomfort - Spock will be investigating the various buildings, especially the blacksmith's building and the schoolhouse.

stillplaying

WHO: Katniss Everdeen + [OPEN]
WHERE: village, woods
WHEN: March 15
OPEN TO: All
WARNINGS: Potential for PTSD, violence, death, other THG-related fun times
STATUS: Open

woods;

It's cold and wet but the clothes and the clothes she wears, although better than the sheer blue jumpsuit the Gamemakers had previously outfitted her in. That they somehow had time to change her outfit and provide her with a backpack of provisions still puzzles her. The last thing she remembers is the force field. Beetee's message sinking in. Knowing just who the enemy is. She remembers taking the wire and securing it around her arrow. She remembers nocking it in her bow and aiming it towards the chink in the field's armor right before lightning strikes the tree. She remembers being blown backward by the force.

Then she had been submerged underwater and survival instinct had kicked in. Now, ten minutes later, her clothes still drip water as she walks. It leaves a trail that can be easily followed. She should be more careful. Cannons had gone off but she still doesn't know for whom. Enobaria and Brutus could still be out there. Finnick and Johanna. Peeta. She should be more careful about the trail she leaves but she doesn't care. She needs to find Peeta. He had been screaming her name, hadn't he? Right before the world had erupted in light. She needs to find him. That's all she wants. All she had to achieve in the Quarter Quell. Get Peeta out alive. Make him Victor and ensure that Peeta will live the long life he deserves.

She can't actually do that unless she finds him. Despite the chill from the wet clothes, she presses on. It slowly starts to register that this isn't the Clock Arena. There are houses not too far from the fountain she had surfaced in. She isn't dumb. Houses potentially mean people. Peeta must have realized it, too. So long as they're weaponless, they need to get away. She heads towards the woods instead. It must be safe there.

village;

Even after her new situation is explained to her, Katniss still finds herself wary. She carefully starts to explore the village, slowly mapping it out in her mind the best she can. If this is an arena, it's unlike any she's ever heard of. This is a village. Small, like District 12. Functional. It's a good setting for a blood bath but unless the Gamemakers have cameras within every building, entertainment might be mixed.

It isn't an arena. She has to remind herself that. The goal isn't for children to kill each other. There are more people here than the normal twenty-four in the Hunger Games. She remembers Haymitch's year though. Forty-eight children and only Haymitch survived. Madge's aunt had been killed in that arena. Still, if anyone comes near, Katniss will tense and scowl.

chosenbytheocean

WHO: Moana Waialiki
WHERE: The School House
WHEN: March 7th
OPEN TO: EVERYONE [Feel free to make top posts!]
WARNINGS: None
STATUS: CLOSED

Moana had begun planning event about a month before the date that she had set. She told everyone she could about her and Jean's idea of having a dance class. She didn't know who would come but she hoped that some might find the idea interesting enough to peek their heads inside; if enough people were interested she'd have classes regularly or see if others wanted to teach as well. She'd love to learn dances from other places like the Moon Walk that Jean had taught her.

She got to the school house early and pushed the desks to the side, stacking a few on top of each other to make room. She had a drum that she'd made with her though she'd have to ask someone who didn't want to dance to beat it to a steady tune.

As the time she'd decided grew near she would stand outside of the school house, waving for people to come inside. If it was someone that she'd met or knew she'd grab their hand and pull them into the building without much prompting.

markwatney

WHO: Mark & Anyone
WHERE: The Town Hall
WHEN: Feb 16, afternoon through evening
OPEN TO: EVERYONE! This is a mingle post!
WARNINGS: N/A - Please warn in thread subject lines if needed
STATUS: Open

When we all get together and have our town meetings, the truth is that a lot of times we don't come up with the sort of solutions we're looking for. I'm not trying to say we're complacent -- Or at least not all of us, not the people speaking up in the meetings -- but just that the nature of living here, such as it is, means that answers aren't exactly forthcoming.

But the latest meeting, the one about organizing, creating some kind of formal entity to oversee the group of us, it threw something into sharp relief for me: I've been talking for a long time about how we all need to be sharing our knowledge as a safeguard, but I haven't been doing much to make this happen beyond sharing my own personal knowledge. And that's really just not acceptable -- Not here, not when we've apparently got an entire section of the population asking for active leadership and another section who might just be too shy or apathetic to admit it.

So, I've been trying to figure out a way to kickstart this project. A way for people to even put out there the sort of knowledge they have to share. You have to start somewhere.

I've never had a problem getting people together to help with the field, but somehow we've been neglecting the town hall building right next to it this entire time. It's one of the biggest buildings in town, but it's still coated in dust and cobwebs, piles of leaves drifted into corners. The inn is starting to get a little crowded during meetings; it might be nice to have a little more room, a place where people come to share.

Regardless of how you feel about community leadership, I think most of us can get behind that.

A couple days before, I put out the call: A cleaning party. We get together, clean out the town hall, and afterward we have a little potluck. People can bring premade dishes, or we can cook out back over a bonfire. We can just be around each other, in a relatively safe space, just having a moment to relax and say hello. Meet someone new, find out where to begin.

After everything that's happened recently, I really think we could use it. I'm just hoping I'm not the only one who shows up.

[CLEANING PARTY & MIXER! Threads can take place during the CLEANING portion, after during the MIXER or BOTH. They can be indoors, upstairs, in the attic, out back by the bonfire, chowing down, whatever -- It's 100% cool to improvise! Mark will have expressly told folks this is about getting to know each other and what they can each do, too. There are some additional OOC notes here.]

scepterschild

WHO: Wanda Maximoff
WHERE: Fountain & Around
WHEN: February 12th
OPEN TO: EVERYONE!
WARNINGS: Threatening people in the first post.
STATUS: CLOSED

Fountain; Very Early Morning

Wanda pushed her way from the fountain, a noticeable frown tugging at her lips as she moved. She was soaked, it was freezing and she had no idea how she got here. Moving quickly, Wanda pulled the backpack from her shoulders and rummaged through its contents. She didn't know what she was expecting to find but she was grateful to see a set of dry clothes stashed inside. After making sure that there wasn't anyone watching, Wanda began to strip off the wet layers and pull on what she had found.

Her movements were quick as she pulled the pale gray scrubs over her head. Any sound or inclination of another person would cause her focus to shift. She'd quickly turn towards her new company, red mist snapping an icicle from nearby shooting it towards the stranger.

Wanda would stop her attack just before striking. She wanted answers.

Around; Mid-Day

Wanda took the time to explore the village; learning the few threads of information that were available as well as who else was around. Her powers felt different, distant, and her tests to use them confirmed that a large fraction of her strength had been taken from her. It was frustrating and it pulled at the strands of tension that gathered beneath her breastbone.

She didn't like feeling like a rat in a cage.

She meandered through the village and around it's outskirts, her eyes inspecting for details that might offer a clue that others have missed. Wanda was familiar with cold weather and snow; neither deterred her from having a look around however she didn't wander very far.

Near the Inn; Night Sky

As the afternoon drifted away from Wanda she began to noticed the intensity of the lights stretching across the sky. She's seen auroras in the past. They were streaks of light that curled like brilliant ocean waves against the dark contrast of night. She had hoped to see the stars but the auroras were shining like a second sun, efficiently hiding anything else from sight.

"Hmm?" Her tone was soft, her chin tilted up to stare at the sky. "How is it that people sleep."

Wanda knew she should sleep but her thoughts were heavy and distracting. The auroras gave her something to focus on and for the moment she wanted that distraction.

putorius

WHO: Draco Malfoy
WHERE: The fountain and immediate area
WHEN: Afternoon of Feb 8
OPEN TO: Anyone and everyone
WARNINGS: Panic, mentions of torture, murder
STATUS: Open

The only sound is the battle cry

When the mind wakes to confusion and panic, it grasps at straws to fill the gaps. For a moment, Draco thought he was back in the bathroom. That he'd blacked out and now the place had flooded and he was still dying. He'd imagined the wounds healing, imagined being taken out. Myrtle was in a fit, Harry and wrecked everything, and it was over. In those moments of trashing panic, his mind finally managed to grasp perspective. Some sense of reality. He was drowning, yes, but it was far too deep for a flooded bathroom. He could see the surface, daylight. Not thinking even of magic, he just kicked as hard as he could, reaching for the light, his lungs burning.

Still confused and lost, he burst through the surface, spluttering and coughing. He didn't so much as climb out of the fountain, as tumble. Off balance from the unexpected weight of the backpack, he threw himself over the lip, falling in an ungraceful heap on the ground. Pressing his back to the fountain itself, he tried to catch his breath, shoving a mess of pale, damp hair out of his eyes, dragging in deep, desperate breaths. Nothing looked familiar. No point of reference. Nothing felt right. His mind spun, unable to grasp anything specific.

With each passing moment, with each deep breath, his head seemed to finally settle. The sharpest edges of panic slid away, allowing him at least a little clarity. His hand went right for his wand, where he always kept it, and closed around nothing but air. He patted his pockets, his pants, before finally looking down. Where were his robes? His suit? His uniform? He grabbed a handful of the red material of his shirt, dragging it away from his chest with a surge of disgust and terror. The color, design, material. It was all so unlike anything he'd ever worn that it was alarming enough on its own.

But his wand! He continued is search, hands frantically checking every part of his clothes. Sweeping the ground around him. The he twisted around, hands on the edge of the fountain, as if prepared to dive back in for it. He stopped, taking in just what he'd come out of, and a strange dread dragged at his stomach. From the depth which he'd come, how could that have fit inside a mere fountain? But peering down into it, he could only see the inky darkness of deep water.

Deciding diving back in was best left for an absolutely last resort, he shrugged off his backpack. Even the bag was wrong, nothing like what he would have had at school. It looked like what some of the muggle-born kids brought with them. He didn't have time to worry about that. He opened it and started emptying the contents onto the ground. Finally, he upended the bag and shook it, but nothing more fell out. He swiped his hand around inside, feeling for anything he may have possible missed.

"Where the bloody hell is it?!" He cried out loud, flinging the bag away from him.

Sixth Iteration

Logs

Entries tagged with marvel: jean grey

Credits & Style Info

[MINGLE] Great Shakes

open | the rain is a part of how life goes

the hardest thing is to live richly in the present

the fountain

the inn

the village

10 - The Heart of Te Fiti [OPEN]

The Inn - July 5th - 10th

The Forest - July 8th - Bear

Oh you fool, there are rules, I am coming for you

So glide away on soapy heels...

003 ☀︎ Everything's On Fire

[arrival] little wings of white flame; butterflies in my brain

.oo1 /// falling through lost spaces

ψ come away little lass come away to the water | SWIMMING MINGLE OTA

004 Unhappy changes [OPEN]

Home - May 1st – Early Morning

Woods/Around - May 1st - All Day

Inn/Around - May 2nd - 8th - Brooding

[Mingle OTA] Spring Feast

001 ♥ i'm standing on my own two feet

Like a Tudor

[ open ] how sharper than a serpent's tooth

(no subject)

04 We came here to Dance Dance Dance Dance~! [OPEN]

We can push on through till morning; [OTA | MINGLE POST]

001 Arrival Post

Fountain; Very Early Morning

Around; Mid-Day

Near the Inn; Night Sky

001. It's do or die, nobody can save me now