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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.

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.

chemethtry

WHO: Jesse Pinkman and… ???
WHERE: Various places!
WHEN: First few days of Jesse's arrival
OPEN TO: Anyone! Everyone!
WARNINGS: Nothing of note, but will edit if anything arises! Got a permissions post here, tho, should you need to know what warnings generally come with Pinkman territory.

( Jesse Pinkman in the house )

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.

epundemic

WHO: Ellie
WHERE: Fountain, Storehouse, Inn, House 15
WHEN: Ellie's arrival (August 1) & the first few days after
OPEN TO: Jessica Jones + Open
WARNINGS:Nothing for now, will update as needed

Fountain (closed to Jessica Jones)
The last thing she remembers is water. There had been so much water, and not enough time to get Joel out of the bus he had been trapped in. The water overcame her and filled her nose and mouth, and eventually her lungs. When she blacked out, the last thing she could recall feeling was terror. As she wakes up surrounded by water, that terror turns to panic. Both combine to make her thrash away from the force she feels gently pushing her upward. It's enough to get her moving but not good enough to bring her anywhere near the surface.

Her first instinct screams to find Joel, but it doesn't take longer than a couple of seconds for her to realize that he's not here. She's not in the same place anymore, she must've been washed away somewhere else. She can tell that the water here isn't necessarily as deep as what she had been drowning in before, sunlight visible from where she is. She can't swim, so her struggle is mainly flailing limbs and an attempt to claw her way up while ignoring the burst of nausea she feels as her lungs burn in protest.

Storehouse
Okay, so she's not just going to let her clothes and shit be taken without at least trying to get them back. Ellie doesn't have much in the world and the fact that what little she does have was taken from her doesn't sit right with her. Not like the way she woke up here or the fact she has no idea where she actually is makes her feel warm and fuzzy, but it's not knowing where her things are that really get to her. She stubbornly refuses to believe they're just gone and takes to looking for them. Eventually, she ends up at the storehouse. It looks like where things are stored, so maybe this is where all the stolen stuff is kept?

She's not exactly quiet while she's digging around, ranting and raving about just what she's going to do to whoever touched her stuff when she finds them.

Inn
It doesn't take long for Ellie to find out where it is she's supposed to go in order to find work. She's so conditioned to having to earn her keep that she doesn't even stop long enough to consider she might deserve a break. The census is at the inn, and there she can find a way to register herself and make herself officially useful. She ends up exploring the first level of the inn after doing so, finding her way right to the kitchen. She's starving, and her stomach comically growls right in time with her eyes spotting some things just sitting around.

Not really sure if it's cool for her to do or not, she creeps her way in so she can grab an apple. But why stop with just one apple when you can have two, and maybe a potato or two to go along with them? She ends up juggling it all and winds up dropping an apple in the process. Her teeth firmly bite into the other apple to hold onto it, and the potatoes are set aside as she chases along after the runaway fruit. It rolls and leads the way right to a pair of shoes that get her to stop in her tracks and glance upward. Are they here to stop her?

House 15
Ellie's like an old lady, spending way too much time out on the porch of her house. The inside is huge, way bigger than anything that a girl her age needs. Maybe if Joel were here with her, it'd be different. But he isn't, so she accepts the house and thinks of it as her castle. Sure, she runs around the house a lot and feels weird having so many empty rooms. But it's space that's all hers, something she's never had before. Military school didn't exactly allow private rooms. As much as she loves spending time inside a huge house alone, it's the porch that she spends the most time on. In her first week there, she spends hours sitting on the railing and just observing life around the settlement. She even sleeps out there, meaning that it's easy for her to jump up to attention and throw rocks at anyone that's out late making too much noise.

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.

notan_animal

WHO: Logan Howlett
WHERE: Fountain, House #60, Inn
WHEN: July 9th and 10th
OPEN TO: All
WARNINGS: He's Logan, considered yourselves warned

Arrival Day; Fountain - One volunteer for fountain, otherwise OTA

In the midst of it happening, Logan felt the feeling of déjà vu; his mind remembering the sensation of water surrounding. But given his very last memories of what had occurred and the whirlwind of anger and pain and confusion of a place and people he shouldn't know but did make his arrival a rather loud one.

He grunts while trying to catch his breath and looks around with a defensive look that conveyed that the man was clearly unpredictable and needed to be approached with caution, though it doesn't take too long for him to finally get on his feet and take a look around with something of familiarity.

Later in the evening, he could be found sitting on the step of his newly claimed house trying to collect his thoughts and figure out the past, present and what was going on in his future. As well as where his last visit to the settlement fit into it all.

Around and at the Inn - OTA

Any kind of rest didn't include much sleep. As always, he woke up after a nightmare, metal claws out and shredded sheets on either side of him. This time, he was letting out a pained holler when they didn't. There was only intense pressure that made both hands ache like they never had before.

So he grabs the white shirt that he'd changed into earlier that day and sets out for a walk, eventually ending up at the inn where he grumbles through making a cup of something and sits down.

He could really use a cigar and a glass of something strong right now.

oorah

WHO: MAYOR HOTDOG
WHERE: AROUND
WHEN: JULY
OPEN TO: Everyone! with specific prompts for Kira, Karen, Kamala - the second prompt I'm willing to do up to 3x if anyone wants Frank to save them!
WARNINGS: dog talkin and lightning strikes and dad vibes tbh

( JULY 6-7: CLOSED TO KIRA & KAREN )

At the first thunder crack overhead that morning, he already feels like he's late for "work." In Reims he would have been wrapping up his patrol and immediately begun soundproofing with Tetora. He looks around at the rudimentary job Bucky and himself had done in his house and sighs. Living as a scared recluse with a teenaged ward is probably not the answer for surviving this place, but maybe today of all days isn't the time to correct it. Or maybe that's an excuse, too.

Frank pulls his hood up and makes his way out into the fray, not entirely sure where the day will take him, but he knows he can't hang around and do nothing all day either. Not on a beautiful rain-day such as this. His first step is Mark and Kira's house where he goes to pick up Aurora. No one but the dog is home and he summons her out into the storm though he knows she isn't the biggest fan of rain. Max hadn't been either, at first, but once she's outside he knows she'll do fine. And it's easier than it should be to convince her, really, encouraging her in a soft tone until they've both cleared the porch.

From there they head straight on into the woods to do some exploring, maybe not the most productive use of the Mayor's time, but maybe here he doesn't have to be everything to everyone. He would actually much prefer being nothing to everyone though perhaps at first that wasn't the case - now he just wants to disappear. At least for a little while. He comes to a clearing with several big, sturdy treehouses and looks up at them as he remembers his treehouse hideaway in Reims. How is it possible to miss a place so much and yet be so grateful that he's never going back?

A bright bolt of lightning shoots across the sky and he opens his mouth in a gasp, Aurora transfixed by it too. Maybe they should take cover for a little while before venturing back out. Just off the path ahead is a cave with a low-slung entrance. They could at least get dry for a bit and maybe have a snack. The shepherd grins up at him suddenly as if he'd said the snack part aloud. She's such a strange dog...

Frank has to hunch down to fit through the entrance of the cavern, looking around to make sure it's safe. Aurora begins running excited circles around him as he swings his pack off his shoulder to open it and find the bone he'd brought her. While his back is turned, he hears something he could swear is - Karen's laugh? Just as he looks up to assure himself he's hearing things, another loud crack sounds from just outside, followed by a terrifying boom as the rain redoubles its efforts to drown the surrounding area. A thick, rotted oak tree falls with a slap into the mud, perfectly covering their route to escape.

( OPEN TO KAMALA + UP TO 2 OTHERS )

The rain is constant and cold today, coming down like a sheet in the middle of the field he finds himself in. There are little blue flowers arranged sporadically all around the area and something about it sets his teeth on edge. It's like when he first ran into Jessica at the Crab Boil, the hair on the back of his neck and arms raising even as the water tries to mat it down. Something's coming, something he isn't going to like.

He spots the person belatedly, wondering why he didn't see them sooner, but rain is in his eyes and ears and dulling his senses no matter how used to being out in the din he is. It's almost like seeing a vision a few moments into the future, feeling his body seize in inexplicable fear. Before he can register what's happening, he's diving forward and tackling the figure to the ground, shielding them with his own body as a single bolt of lightning strikes down, glancing off the edge of his boot.

His heart is hammering in his chest as he rolls off the person before he can crush them with his considerable bulk, not noticing they had landed directly in a patch of those mysterious flowers. "Are you okay?" he gruffs, trying not to think about how close that was, or the fact that without his newly given powers, they might both be extra crispy right now.

( OPEN TO ALL · listen to the waves )

Frank has acquired a few more... friends today. His usual faithful sidekicks are here with him, of course, Aurora the wild German Shepherd and Aretha the lazy bloodhound, but there are four more where that came from. The two Corgi dogs that had made an appearance at the Crab Boil, a sheepdog and a Husky-mutt are all following Frank dutifully as he makes his way through the fields, tending to the gardens in the light, consistent rain of the afternoon. The Sun is peeking through the clouds stubbornly, creating a truly perfect day in his eyes. Though he's slowly breaking himself of his silent existence, the rain makes it easier to acclimate. Even the soft noise of the gentle pitter-patter today is enough to conceal his constant chatter to his buddies. And to their credit, they all sit at attention and listen intently, even the usually hyperactive Aurora.

When he goes to pluck dead leaves from the plant he's stooped over, Aretha nudges in suddenly and does the task herself. His eyes widen as all the dogs follow suit, weeding diligently in an obvious mirror to his actions. Frank straightens up and watches them with his hands on his hips, like he can't believe what he's seeing. He accidentally taught a herd of dogs to... garden with him?! At least that's useful, if a little creepy. Uh. Yeah. He can work with this.

Soon, they're working together like a well-oiled machine, deadheading and weeding in the rain like it's the most natural thing in the world. Frank is humming a lively tune as they go and soon Aretha is warbling her own version along with him. Did he stumble into a Disney picture and not realize?

( OPEN TO ALL · let them wash away your pain )

Groffles. What a delightfully flawless creature. It's raining again today and there's a bow and arrow strapped to his back like he left his house with every intention to hunt. But then he'd come along a herd of groffles and stops for a moment just to watch them. They're so... cute, and he doesn't notice the pitchy sigh that's left his lips until he hears it belatedly aloud. Sometimes, he thinks he might actually like this place, and almost all of those times include dogs (or groffles, his totes new favorite.)

A particularly bold specimen comes straight up to him and nudges at Frank's jacket pockets. He shakes his head even as he reaches out a hand to see if he can pet her nose. "Oh... sorry girl, I came out here empty-handed. Rude, I know. Just like a New Yorker." You're rambling at animals again, Francis. But the groffle lets him pet her damp hair even though he has nothing for her and it's enough to get a shallow smile from him. Reluctantly, he turns away to set himself back onto the trail he'd been traveling but after walking a few paces, he realizes she's following him. That settles it, doesn't it? Frank Castle is officially a Disney princess.

The wild groffle follows him all the way back to the village, not to be deterred by any amount of distraction. Sometimes, you just have to accept the gift-groffle life gives you, right? And when life gives you a groffle, you get green milk and a really cute buddy. The afternoon will see Frank building a pen for the gentle creature behind House 6 and feeding her peaches from his pockets. "What do you think about Whitney?" he asks gamely, since apparently the Frank who was here last liked the classics.

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?"

ex_assertiveness90

WHO: Stella Gibson
WHERE: Near the inn, then the hospital, then around the village
WHEN: July 1st-3rd
OPEN TO: Various closed threads and an OTA section for post-earthquake recovery nonsense (see headers)
WARNINGS: Descriptions of injuries

( all i'm asking is to be alive for once. )

repressings

WHO: Credence Barebone, Percival Graves, anyone else
WHERE: Barebone-Graves residence, fountain
WHEN: June 15th-16th
OPEN TO: Everyone
WARNINGS: Standard Credence warnings, specifically parental death
STATUS: Open

i ➼ I ᴛʜɪɴᴋ ʏᴏᴜʀ ʙʀᴜɪsᴇ ᴡᴀs ᴜɴᴅᴇʀsᴛᴀᴛᴇᴅ ᴄᴀᴜsᴇ ʏᴏᴜ ᴄᴀɴ'ᴛ ꜰᴇᴇʟ ᴛʜɪs ᴀɴʏᴍᴏʀᴇ; closed to Graves
It's something Tina mentioned to him when he asked why Mary Lou knew about wizards. Why everyone else was sure magic was just a fairytale, but Mary Lou was staunch in her belief. It bothers him less that Graves didn't tell him--he knows that's how the other operates, how Graves answers Credence's questions honestly but doesn't give any unnecessary information. Instead, what's really gnawing at Credence is that he didn't ask the right question. He'd thought he was getting better at that.

It was almost a game, asides from their question-for-an-answer. He's never quite told Graves said game of course, but Credence tries to phrase his questions to get the most out of him. He considers a simple 'yes' or 'no' a failure in these circumstances, even though a yes or no is usually enough to satisfy his curiosity. Credence wants more, ravenously hungry for knowledge. Newt and Tina will happily provide answers to anything he asks, and Credence plans on using this to his full advantage so long as they don't mind, but he still wants Graves to teach him, too.

It's finally too hot for him to handle a long-sleeved shirt and jeans when he gets back from the mill, and since he's just in their house and not planning on leaving, Credence opts to wear his white scrubs again. They're lighter, just cotton, even if his arms show the criss-cross markings of unhappier times. Unhappier times he now knows and recognizes as much more complicated than he could imagine. Which brings him to the question he wants to ask.

He finds Graves in the living room, and he wants to say it's evening despite the never-ending blazing sun. His footsteps are quiet, barefeet, and he stops at the doorway, watching the older man for few moments before speaking.

"Ma knew what I was, didn't she? She knew what my real mom was, too."

ii ➼ Iᴛ's ɢᴇᴛᴛɪɴɢ ʙʟᴜᴇʀ ᴀɴᴅ ʏᴏᴜ ᴄᴀɴ'ᴛ ᴋᴇᴇᴘ ꜰᴀᴋɪɴɢ ᴛʜᴀᴛ ʏᴏᴜ ᴄᴀɴ'ᴛ ꜰᴇᴇʟ ᴛʜɪs ᴀɴʏᴍᴏʀᴇ; OTA
The more Credence thinks about how hot it is, the hotter he feels, and the more he thinks about how he shouldn't think about how hot it is the more he does. The circular puzzle he's trapped in is ridiculous. The problem with dressing in long-sleeved shirts and long pants is that, even if they're airier thanks to the fact that they're Kira's clothing and not his own, it's even more hot, which jumpstarts the entire thing.

He does his chores for the day and decides the best course of action is to copy what he'd spied Queenie doing a little while ago: he makes his way to the fountain, book close to his chest, dips his feet in, and reads. It's Frankenstein, which he's sure he's read at least 30 times since Christmas, but it's not like he has anything new.

It's when he finishes a chapter that he looks up--he squints against the sun, frowning--and muses, not necessarily to the person passing by.

"Do you ever wonder why they don't give us books very often? The ones that watch us."

---

iii ➼ Iᴛ's ᴀ ʙᴀᴄᴋᴡᴀʀᴅs ᴀᴛᴛʀᴀᴄᴛɪᴏɴ ᴛᴏ ʏᴏᴜʀ ꜰᴏʀᴡᴀʀᴅ ᴇʏᴇs;

Feel free to spy Credence at the fountain or by the river, or sometimes at the inn doing whatever needs to be done (most likely sweeping).

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 )

ex_assertiveness90

WHO: Stella Gibson
WHERE: The waterfall
WHEN: June 1st, evening
OPEN TO: OTA!
WARNINGS: a. nudity, b. a thread of Mature Adults Doing Adult Things, c. discussion of physical abuse
STATUS: Open

( Read more... )

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.

notan_animal

WHO: Logan
WHERE: Fountain/Hospital/House #58
WHEN: 29th, early afternoon + onwards
OPEN TO: Claire, Erik, Rory, Margaery; OPEN
WARNINGS: Severe, gruesome injuries - will update accordingly. Also cut for spoilers.
STATUS: Open

( March 29 - Fountain )

( March 30th + Onwards )

scepterschild

WHO: Wanda Maximoff
WHERE: The Inn
WHEN: March 26th
OPEN TO: Logan Howlett
WARNINGS: None yet.
STATUS: Closed.

Wanda hadn't spent much time at the inn in the last week. Clint had been sick and she'd stayed close in case she was needed. Today she wanted to assist where she could at the inn which mostly took place in the kitchen. She'd made herself something to eat, leaving the extra's behind, as well as stored some fish she'd caught for anyone who was hungry and interested in cooking. She cleaned and then took her bowl of soup to the main room to eat. It was heavily spiced and smelled pleasantly of fish.

She took a seat out of the way looking up as she noticed a rather large figure stepping inside of the inn. She hadn't spoken to Logan before now but she'd seen him around the small village. She rose her head and pointed towards the kitchen where she'd left a warm pot of soup on the stove.

"There is more if you're hungry." Wanda tucked a bit of long brown hair behind her ear and then blew across the steaming liquid that gathered in her spoon. It was hot but as she took a small sip she was reminded a bit of home. The spices weren't the same but there was a familiar warmth and style when she cooked. It helped her relax when everything else in the village weighed upon her.

warriorborn

WHO: Benedict Sorellin-Lancaster
WHERE: The Inn
WHEN: March 23
OPEN TO: Kate Kelly specifically, anyone else who wants to come hang out in the kitchen
WARNINGS: so many feelings
STATUS: ongoing

It's been over a month. A whole month of sleeping in Kira's room, of avoiding Kate's eyes, of trying to keep himself as busy as possible when there still wasn't much to do.

It's difficult, being helpful in the Inn, since any and all chores he might set his eye on would run a high risk of having him bump into Kate, and they've been avoiding speaking to one another since their fight in the kitchen, the night Benedict burned his arm. His arm has healed, only slightly-pink and shiny skin left to mark his stupidity, but his relationship with Kate was not so easily mended. (Perhaps it might have been, had he been brave enough to step forward and apologize, but Benedict hadn't been able to find the words to say what he wanted to say, and then too much time has dragged on for any attempt to be plausibly accepted, so now he has to come to terms with the fact that he's managed to cock up the one really good thing he's found for himself here, and he'll never get it back.)

The empty houses around the habble had been drawing his eye, but somehow, the thought of leaving the Inn made his rift with Kate seem so much more permanent, and he hadn't the courage to take that step. Besides, Kira had told him that he was planning on moving out of the Inn soon, so Benedict needn't worry about overstaying his welcome in the room they now share.

Like he has so many times before, he creeps down to the kitchen after everyone else has gone to bed, intent on making himself a cup of tea. He's much more careful with the kettle now, the cracked tile on the floor from where he dropped it the night he burned himself enough of a reminder to not be so careless, but he can't resist the comfort that a hot cup cradled in his palms brings. Leaning against the counter as he waits for it to steep, he looks out the window towards the tree line, absently missing the swirling colors of the Aurora. The fireflies that have taken to chasing and stinging people are just as dangerous, but if he was given the choice between the two, he'd almost certainly pick the former. There had been something peaceful about the lights in the sky, something that reminded him in a strange way of Etherealist magic.

He hopes Ferus and Folly are well. And Gwen...the fact that he's barely thought of her for weeks makes him feel suddenly guilty. He's been so wrapped up in his own hurt feelings that he'd all but forgotten his family back home. She'd shake her head at him and cluck her tongue disapprovingly, then threaten to tell his mother the way she had when they were children.

Almost despite himself, he smiles.

guessihavelostcount

WHO: Claire
WHERE: #4, The Inn
WHEN: March 3rd
OPEN TO: Caius, Logan, OTA
WARNINGS: Possible NSFW/smut, language
STATUS: The Inn part is OTA

( And today is all you've got now )

withoutahammer

WHO: Neil Mackay
WHERE: Next to the fountain and then throughout the area
WHEN: February 25th
OPEN TO: OTA
WARNINGS: Possible violence or threats of it, possible discussion of past war-time violence
STATUS: Just so very open

arrival;

The fountain feels like a dream- the water, swimming up through it but feeling the pressure, the need to reach air again... it's a bit more metaphorical than most of his dreams these days, but the theme's the same. Of course, then he breaches the surface and it's all a bit more real than it should be. It's chilly and it's wet and it's definitely not the Polish forests.

Right, then.

He'll be by the fountain for a while, sorting through the contents of his backpack and trying to untangle what the fuck just happened and how he wound up this far separated from the team.

reconnaissance;

Neil's exploration- whenever it ends up taking place- is systematic, thorough, and only slightly hampered by the fact that these boots are still squelching every time he walks. The rest of his clothes are dry, it's just the bloody boots that are getting on his last bloody nerve.

He spends a lot of time on the borders of the canyon, eyeing up the cliffs and wondering how fast it'd take whatever guards this camp's got to react, how fast the guns would fire. Not a test to make in the middle of the day, when anyone can see him. He'll be back once he knows more.

He spends time in the village, too, inspecting the buildings and watching the inhabitants with disguised suspicion. Fellow inmates or something else? It's too early to say.

Sixth Iteration

Logs

Entries tagged with marvel: logan howlett

Credits & Style Info

[MINGLE] Post-Bunker Support Group

[MINGLE] PLOT: Down the Tubes: Alarm

[ OPEN ] Jesse's arrival

[MINGLE] EVENT: Birthday Party

(no subject)

[MINGLE] Wendi-go-go to the inn

huh. so we're doing this again, eh?

( OPEN & CLOSED ) So you say you wanna get away.

( JULY 6-7: CLOSED TO KIRA & KAREN )

( OPEN TO KAMALA + UP TO 2 OTHERS )

( OPEN TO ALL · listen to the waves )

( OPEN TO ALL · let them wash away your pain )

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

would you help me rise up

chitter-chatter all these secrets started giving me the shivers;

003 ☀︎ Everything's On Fire

(no subject)

.oo1 /// falling through lost spaces

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

Oh, father tell me, do we get what we deserve?

003 Sharing bounties [Closed]

(no subject)

And today is all you've got now

arrival; what joy, a perfect holiday