ethnobotany: they're exactly the same }{ insurrection ({ now i'm asking questions)
[personal profile] ethnobotany
WHO: Beverly Crusher
WHERE: Outside mostly
WHEN: backdated to October 14th
OPEN TO: Everyone!
WARNINGS: will update if needed


A lot of things have happened since Beverly surfaced out of the fountain. Some of them have seemed almost normal for a Starfleet officer to experience, while others seemed like something a Cardassian or Q would cook up. Despite still not being pushed for Starfleet intel or information on the Enterprise, Beverly isn't entirely convinced that one of the above isn't running the entire show.

On days like today, she leans more towards Q. If she were at all aware that yesterday was her birthday, she would be even more convinced that Q is the prankster.

The day starts out as well as most, but partway through, when she's headed to the Inn for lunch, she notices that the ground is unusually bright. She lifts a hand to shade her eyes from the sun and barely anything happens. In fact, as she turns her hand over, she notices it isn't casting a shadow at all. More to the point, she isn't casting any kind of shadow. Even turning around and looking down doesn't produce anything. Nor does lifting her feet.

"The trees and buildings are all casting shadows," she comments to herself, but loudly enough for anyone nearby to hear. "Are the people just not?"

She probably looks a little strange wiggling her arms and legs around, as though a shadow will simply fall off of her if she moves enough. Eventually, she'll end up in the Inn, where she finds she is still not exactly casting a shadow, even in the unnatural light inside. Still, even shadowless people need food. And maybe a bit of company.
majorlyugh: (with . koala . pucker up)
[personal profile] majorlyugh
WHO: Major Lilywhite
WHERE: Major/Ravi's cabin, around the village
WHEN: Mid-October
OPEN TO: All, specific starter for Ravi
WARNINGS: PUPPIES.


Major had been lured outside by the sound of whimpering. Every ounce of softness and kindness he'd ever held in his body had been tingling like a small fire, spreading over the expanse of his body from head to toe at the sound. When he had opened the door, two boxes were sitting side-by-side on the porch - one about half the size of the other and, to his surprise, moving around like one of those fake ferret toys for cats, the kind that's glued to a mechanical ball that moves around.

Only a little less erratic.

He took the stationary box in first, setting it off to the side of the living room, before returning to get the one that had now seemed to calm down a little bit. As he lifted it, there was a quiet yelp from the inside, and Major knew in an instant what the mystery box's contents were, without having to remove the lid.

He sets the box down in the middle of the living room, carefully lifting up the cover to reveal the small, Basset Hound puppy gazing up at him inside. At the sight of his face, it lets out another yelp, this one happier but still pleading, and tries to stand on its hind legs to see outside the open top of the box. It doesn't quite have the hang of what it means to be coordinated yet, and so it tumbles backwards, causing a very loud "AWW!!" to come rushing out of Major's mouth.

He reaches inside, carefully scooping the puppy up in his arms. Once near enough, it begins to lick his face and squirm around in his grip. As Major's trying to check the box for any other dog-related items, the puppy manages to wiggle its way out of his arms and, before he can manage to do anything to stop it, runs straight out of the door that Major's foolishly left open by mistake.

He opens his mouth to shout a name, but realizes he doesn't have one at the ready, so he shouts the only thing he can think of:

"HEY! ... HEY YOU! COME BACK!" as he scrambles to his feet and out the door, chasing after the bounding, long-eared puppy.
scepterschild: (Dangerously Curious.)
[personal profile] scepterschild
WHO: Wanda Maximoff
WHERE: Outside 6i village, near the river
WHEN: October 15th
OPEN TO: ALL
WARNINGS: N/A


A menagerie of strange occurrences were sweeping through the small town. The affects have varied from person to person but, after some investigation, Wanda has discovered that all the occurrences happened after the victim had found a random piece of fruit that vanished upon its discovery. It made her wary of random fruit though perhaps not wary enough.

She was walking towards the forest, with a borrowed bow slung over her shoulder and a thin collection of arrows looped against the hip of her cargo pants. Her boots fell heavily against the ground as she made her way, finding no need to be quite until she has entered the forest. Along her path was a thick twisted looking vine. Light green eyes followed it curiously to find a large bright orange pumpkin attached to its end. Pumpkins weren't a fruit… were they? They had seeds but it was like calling a tomato a fruit.

Wanda approached the gourd cautiously, only to have it vanish as she placed a hand on it.

"Fuck!" Her hands went to her head to make sure that there weren't any surprises similar to what Clint had experienced earlier in the month. When it appeared that she was safe, she looked down at where the pumpkin had been to find a perfectly made pumpkin pie.

Wanda hesitated, unsure if it was safe to eat. Except it looked so delicious, if bunny ears or losing her voice for a short time was the cost then she'd accept it for a piece of perfectly made pie.
wittyskepticism: ({ 062)
[personal profile] wittyskepticism
WHO: Astrid Hawke
WHERE: By the forest in 6I, then all over
WHEN: October 7th
OPEN TO: ALL
WARNINGS: TBD


In all honesty, for the longest time Hawke has been expecting something to blow up. Ever since the earthquakes and especially since the eclipse and the rash of illnesses, she has been expected something to happen. A darkspawn invasion, the world to implode, a Rift into the Fade. Something. But for the most part, things have been relatively normal. For whatever passes as normal in this strange little village.

So when she spies what looks like a pear tree in full bloom, complete with actual pears, she is both suspicious and intrigued. Pears are good. Pears mean food. She's more interested in food than a lot of things here and though she isn't much of a farmer or a gardener, she isn't about to let this one go without at least trying it. So, even though she also doesn't have a basket or anything to carry a lot of them back, she decides she'll at least pick one to try. If they're ripe, she'll come back for more later.

Reaching up, she chooses the one that looks the best, twisting her hand once she's grasped it and tugging until the pear comes free. What she doesn't expect is for the thing to vanish. One of her eyebrows arches and she turns her hand over. No sign of the pear at all can be seen on her hand.

Case of the vanishing peach, is what she wants to say. Except nothing comes out. She mouths the words, but no sound can be heard. It's like the air won't even push through her throat right. She tries again. Same result. Now her expression morphs into something like irritation. She can't even make terrible puns to cope without her voice!

This better not be permanent.

Deciding to avoid any other peaches that might be skulking around, she heads out of the forest and back towards the village. Her first stop is the Inn, where she looks for something to eat just in case it's some sort of illness that just needs a good bowl of soup. When that doesn't seem to do the trick, she leaves for the hospital. Eventually, she wanders around the village, looking grumpy and put out, and ends up back at the house she's sharing with Fenris. It's easier just to be there than anything else.

With her luck, this will be permanent and she's certainly going to sulk and complain for as long as it lasts.
pretendtoneedme: (aiming)
[personal profile] pretendtoneedme
WHO: Clint Barton
WHERE: Area behind the inn/police station, fields/forest, and behind the boathouse (all in 6I)
WHEN: October 1-3
OPEN TO: Anyone
WARNINGS: Nothing yet; will update if anything changes





( October 1 - Archery Lessons )

The leaves are starting to turn colors, everything except the needlers going gold or red or brown, and it's getting less comfortable to wander around in shirtsleeves although he's still doing it most days. But back home that cooling and color changing means something specific to him that it doesn't mean to a lot of people he worked with - namely, hunting season. It's something he grew up with and still participates in, back home, and here it'll be even more important considering the number of mouths they're going to have to feed over the winter, even with the recent losses of a fair number of people, since among them were some of the regular hunters. In the latter half of September, Clint's switched his focus more towards food acquisition than construction and repair for that reason (and the fact that the scavenged wreckage is beginning to run out), but good as he is he knows he can't feed over fifty people alone. There's other hunters, but not enough, and not nearly enough equipment. It's time to get to making more and teaching other people to use them. Finding Baze trying to make bows and arrows a couple weeks before had basically forced his hand, and Clint had offered to teach him exactly what to do, both in crafting and in actual shooting.

Now, the fruits of their labor are ready for testing. The four bows aren't that great, they were all done in too big a rush and probably nothing's going to last longer than late spring, but they're even and basically smoothed out and Clint figures even getting some basic weapons out into the community will help and he'll have the winter to really get down to crafting some good bows. The arrows are much better; there's a huge box of arrowheads in the inn storage, more than even he could ever possibly need in a year, and he'd liberally helped himself to them and feathers from some of the geese he'd brought down to make quality arrows. They're more likely to break than the bows simply because they're thinner and they're the things making direct contact with whatever's being shot at, but they'll shoot straight and true until then, and their non-wood parts can likely be reclaimed and used again.

He's also taken five of the abundance of snuggies from the inn storage (why would there be so many snuggies?) and rolled them all up to make a target that he'd balanced on a tree stump and weighed down with some rocks so it wouldn't go rolling off into the sunset when it got shot. The blue of the outer snuggie is eye-catching, and he's carefully testing each bow and its cord of tightly twisted duct tape with the new arrows. They work... well enough. Not what he's used to, but they'll work fine for anyone with some sort of skill at aiming - and he's willing to help people find out if they have that skill. He might even make this a real thing every few days until it gets too cold for any but the most dedicated hunters to be out seeking a target.

He looses an arrow, which pierces his fluffy target, then speaks to whoever's watching him while reaching for the next one and not moving his focused sight on one bit. "If you wanna try it out, come on over. Just don't get in the gallery."

( October 2 - Dastardly Tricks )

In the vein of archery, Clint's taken to roaming the forests looking for good slim branches he can cut for arrows for about an hour a day, and today's no exception. Archery lessons went decently well and he's cautiously optimistic about their chances at finding enough game. If the bows don't break. If they don't run out of arrows. If there's not another natural disaster. If- So, yeah, looking for more supplies is always good. He also keeps his eyes open for any branches he could use to make another bow, but those are harder to find. He's debating binding reeds together to give them another one, as makeshift as that is.

It's almost harvest time, so he's not taken aback when he sees the apple hanging from the tree in front of him - big, red, bright and shiny, like the tree had been tended by the foremost gardeners in the world from the time it was a sapling. Their own fruit output looks pretty good, but none of them are as perfect as that sample. Clint doesn't even try to stop himself from reaching up and picking it, not realizing any significance in the fact that it's just inside his comfortable reach, and-

-it vanishes in a little puff of apple-scented air, prompting an outburst of дерьмо́! and him nearly dropping the small bundle of sticks he'd gathered to season for arrows. "I was looking forward to that," he mutters, regathering the sticks he'd fumbled and continuing on through the trees. Without realizing that he'd come away with something even if it wasn't a nice, juicy apple: a set of soft gray, fluffy bunny ears and a matching white-tipped tail smashed flat under his scrubs pants.

( October 3 - Under Construction )

Did Clint want to go outside and face a few dozen people who were probably still laughing at the stupid ears and tail? No. Is that what he's doing? Yes. Well, sort of.

He's gone out after breakfast at the house, sure, but even though he's not hiding, he's not exactly hanging out in the middle of the village tempting everyone to tease him. While he's still one hundred percent not happy with the trick played on him, the snow that had dusted the ground when he'd woken up had lit a fire under his ass on a project he'd been working at off and on for about a month. The days had been getting chillier, hunting season was coming, sure, but snow? Whatever hands are controlling the weather, he's pretty sure they're about to fuck with the residents again. Over the past few weeks, Clint - and lately, Baze - have been forming mud bricks with some plant fiber mixed in, leaving them to dry after being shaped in a wooden frame Clint had lashed together from branches and paracord. It's something they can only work on on days with no rain, since the bricks need to dry in the sun, but they've manufactured a respectable pile of bricks that are more or less 12"x6"x4".

Today's all about putting that together. Using the mud technique, Clint had cleared a small swath of grass and moss and other ground cover from a small area behind the boathouse and mixed it up to form a concave "dish" of mud in the ground, which he's now piling the bricks around in a square formation, leaving space for a door that he's planning on stealing from one of the damaged homes. He's also got a few thick, more or less straight branches piled off to the side, chopped down to matching lengths that are clearly for some latter step in the process. But the smokehouse he's been planning is finally being assembled, and hopefully soon it'll be ready to start preserving their meats.
learntthehardway: (6)
[personal profile] learntthehardway
WHO: Diana Prince and Open
WHERE: 7I area
WHEN: September 30th
OPEN TO: Anyone in the area
WARNINGS: None as of right now.


Diana had heard that there was another area, had heard that it was pretty much just the same as the original area. She had been meaning to check it out, to see what the deal was with this new area, but time had slipped away from her - besides, she hadn't wanted to go too far from Steve just in case he had a relapse with the illness he'd had.

But, when she'd heard that the new area had been overrun by foxes, she'd had to go and check it out for herself. She'd left Steve a short note, just to let him know where she was, because she knew he'd be worried if she didn't and knowing him, he'd set off to find her and make sure that she was doing okay. That's just the type of man he was and it was one of the reasons she loved him.

With everything all set, she'd packed her pack with water and some sandwiches and off she'd gone.

It took a little longer than she'd planned to get there. And at first, she wasn't even sure that she'd arrived at the correct place, only because it pretty much looked like the other area - though the fountain... That was strange, it looked like it had smashed or neglected. She shook her head and moved on.

No foxes. She peered around, peeking under things as she moved through the area and yet there wasn't any signs of the so called foxes. Maybe people had been mistaken. Maybe they'd only thought that they'd seen them. Or maybe they'd just returned from wherever they had come from. It was odd and for a moment she felt a flash of disappointment. She'd missed the foxes.

Sighing, she made her way back to the crumbling fountain and took a seat on an edge that was still intact and began to dig through her pack for the sandwiches.
templelessguardian: (Default)
[personal profile] templelessguardian
WHO: Chirrut and YOU
WHAT: Arrival and settling in
WHEN: first couple days after his arrival, so now plus 2 days
WHERE: the fountain and wherever else he ends up

WARNINGS: other than spoilers for parts of Rogue One I can't imagine there will be much to warn for here but I'll update as needed.


FIRST
He wakes up with a weight on his back and surrounded by water, a discovery that might be more troubling if there wasn't a force pushing him and a need to do something about it more immediately, temporarily displacing plenty fresh memories of rocks and trees and a skirmish with insurmountable odds.  So he takes note of the direction and goes with it, doing his best to find the surface until he pops up, sucking in whatever air he can against the cough to expel the water.

Shore is harder to find.  He calls out, as much in hopes of attracting someone's attention as trying to gauge the space he's in, then, so long as no-one answers, strikes out in a direction picked mostly by educated guess in search of shore.



SECOND
The next few days are spent getting oriented, and coming to grips with...whatever happened.  He remembers dying, after all, or what certainly felt like it at the time, and waking up somewhere new, in one piece with no signs of it otherwise, well it takes some time reconciling the two.  Not to mention finding himself...dampened isn't really the right word, but his awareness certainly isn't as wide as usual, although he grants that may be as much due to the loss of his echo box than anything else.

By now he's made himself an improvised staff, a sturdy length of wood as straight as he could find, and with it in tow he makes his way around, determined to familiarize himself with the place.  With Baze here he doesn't need to learn it so quickly, maybe, but he's too stubborn not to at least try; this isn't a mission out of desperation, it's something else entirely and he's still not entirely sure what that means.
majorlyugh: (obligatory . you don't say)
[personal profile] majorlyugh
WHO: Major Lilywhite
WHERE: All around the village
WHEN: Sept 19/20
OPEN TO: OTA, specific starters for different characters; please feel free to have your character run into Major at any point during his re-clothing.
WARNINGS: Nudity?


The Hot Spring. Ever since Major had found out about it, he made a point to stop there a few times a week, if not once a day. Although he didn't rely on them the way some people did, he liked having a few things in his life that were more or less routine, and it didn't take long for him to incorporate the almost-scalding, healing waters into what had now become his daily life in the village.

He'd even made the act of going to the spring a bit of a routine in itself, taking his items of clothing off one by one before folding them up and setting them off to the side - far enough away from the water's edge that they didn't risk getting soaked, but not so far that he couldn't see them if he needed to. It always went pants, shirt, underwear (which he sandwiched between the pants and shirt, to keep some kind of modesty in case someone else were to come meandering by), and today hadn't been any different.

Except for when he had crawled out of the water, letting himself air dry for a few minutes, then went to the retrieve his clothing.

Because when he goes to collect his things, he's met with the very unpleasant sight of them being completely .. gone. Nada. Zilch. Kaput.

"That's .. unfortunate," he mutters to himself, glancing around at the surrounding brush. Maybe he'd put them somewhere else, and hadn't remembered. After scouring the bushes and grass along the perimeter, he comes up just as empty handed - and just as naked - as he'd started. "Crap." Not that Major gets easily embarrassed about being in the wind, but - he usually likes it to be his decision to be wandering around in his birthday suit, rather than having it foisted upon him in some very bad practical joke. "Ha-ha, okay, okay, I get it!" he shouts, thinking that maybe the perpetrator might be nearby, mindfully using both hands to cover his most sensitive areas. "Play a joke on the new guy, right? I set myself up for it, putting my stuff off to the side - but like, c'mon! You can't expect me to walk around the village naked! Can I have my stuff back? .. Please?"

When he's met with silence, he realizes he has no other choice but to try and track down his clothing, one article at a time.
girlwednesday: (Sidelook)
[personal profile] girlwednesday
WHO: Felicity Smoak
WHERE: The Village
WHEN: Sept 8-9
OPEN TO: Everyone in the village
WARNINGS: There should be none



It had been a couple of weeks since she and Oliver had pulled themselves out of the fountain in the middle of, well. Nowhere. A week had gone by before Oliver had let her leave the woods and moved them into a house on the outskirts of, well, nowhere. The packs they'd been given didn't give much in the ways of clues and Oliver didn't want Felicity showing herself to too many people unless it was necessary and he hadn't yet deemed it necessary.

By the beginning of the third week, Felicity herself deemed it necessary.

A lack of technology was one thing, but short of nagging Oliver into submission (not likely), all she could do was wait until he'd left to scout yet another something in another place and then walk out the front door. She knew he didn't expect her to do it, figured she'd still be taking him at his word that hiding away from everyone who might have answers would be best for them, but she was done with that.

Done hiding. She wanted more answers, more interaction, and figured that at least if someone killed her, at least there'd be an end to the wondering.

So, it was about ten o'clock in the morning on a Saturday when a woman in (mostly) white scrubs makes her way into town and starts looking around. She's not new, but she certainly looks it.


[OOC: Feel free to run into Felicity anywhere your character might be!]
enterprisingheart: (just... give me a moment)
[personal profile] enterprisingheart
WHO: Jean-Luc Picard
WHERE: around town; house 20
WHEN: August 21-25; early Sept.
OPEN TO: plague stuff ota; house 20 stuff is locked to housemates
WARNINGS: potential mentions of kidnapping and torture in the plague part of the post (thanks to delirious flashbacks). Warnings will be updated as necessary, and individual threads will be marked as things come up.


{It seems like everyone's catching the plague}

For all that he’s spent a not insignificant amount of time caring for someone who’s been ill, it doesn’t entirely occur to Jean-Luc that he himself might fall sick. Not that he’s unaware of the fact that the illness spreading through the village is communicable, mind. But thus far there hasn’t seemed to be any conclusive evidence as to either how it spreads, nor any real indication of whether or not some people might happen to be immune.

Plus even if he had been aware of the finer details of this particular illness he still would have spent the majority of his time at Beverly's side. And so he thinks nothing of it and simply gets on with life.

It isn't until August 21st that he first notices something wrong. A little extra tiredness, but that's not anything that he'd call concerning. Most like he simply hadn't slept as well as he'd thought, the night previous. Only it doesn't go away like he might have suspected; by the time the eclipse has been and gone he's feeling tired enough that he starts making for the house he shares with Beverly.

It's a slower process that it might normally be, especially given that he starts stumbling a little by the time he gets halfway there, but he does make it eventually. Even if he does slowly collapse against the wall just inside the door.

He doesn't stay put long though, for all that Beverly does her best: the 22nd and 23rd see any of a number of escape attempts as he turns up everywhere from the Inn to the fountain - and a few places in-between. He doesn't look well either, regardless of whether he's lucid or not. The only real difference is in the conversations - when he's lucid, they're almost normal. When he's not, they tend to turn mentions of "Q" or "Cardassians" or "Borg"; things that clearly mean something to him, but perhaps not so much to anyone else.

(The very unlucky might also find him in the middle of what looks for all the world like an emotional breakdown.)

By the 24th, Beverly seems to have wised up to his tricks - there are no further escape attempts, although he's around to at least be visited, should people have any interest in doing so.

The 25th sees him finally recovered, in large part due to the peaches Beverly had managed to convince him to eat the night before, and while he's being a little more careful to not overdo things than he usually might, he still makes an effort to seek out people who might have run into him while he was less than himself. If only so that he can offer more thorough explanations than he might have previously.


{Meeting the neighbors}

Moving isn't an unfamiliar thing, to Jean-Luc. After all, in some ways he's always moving (and in others, he's always taking his home with him). Moving in with people he barely knows is something else entirely. Not something he hasn't done even so, but he can't deny that it's something he'd expected to be facing again quite so soon. Still, he trusts Beverly's judgment, and it's not like he has very much to pack up anyway. They'll like need to transplant Beverly's garden, yes. But that can wait at least a little bit longer.

And if the house looks a little strange, at least means that'll be easier to remember which it is, and for now, he lets Beverly take the lead, although he certainly doesn't mean to be precisely shy either. Simply not the current main focus - she's the one who knows their new housemates better, after all!
chirrutsluck: (skeptical)
[personal profile] chirrutsluck
WHO: Baze Malbus and OTA
WHERE: Outskirts of town, 6I
WHEN: September
OPEN TO: Any and all
WARNINGS: Look out for flying projectiles

After a couple weeks of being too sick to do much, Baze is getting back into life in 6I, despite the lingering cough and occasional shortness of breath. He's checking his traps in the morning, offering to fix anything people need that's broken and that he can figure out... and attempting to shoot things.

Two weeks of being confined to one building means he had a lot of time to try and carve bow staves and whittle arrow shafts, and to try and twist strings out of cloth, leather strips, and guts from fish and rabbits, anything he could get his bored fingers on. So he has three bows put together, and he spends at least some of his time every afternoon attempting to shoot things. "Attempting" is the operative word, there, because only one of the bows is remotely serviceable and that one was an experiment with bending the staff the other way when he hadn't really intended it to work, and his arrows-- merely sharpened and straightened sticks, at this point, since he wasn't going to waste stone or metal on tips when he's just learning-- don't fly very well.

There is a lot of cursing going on, when one catches him at it.

Of course, he's also available at the normal places: the inn, helping in the kitchen or attempting to whittle some better arrows; around the village, carrying things or pausing to cough or catch his breath; up on a roof battering down leaks; or peering across the divide into 7I, though he doesn't spend much time there. He may be attempting to shoot foxes sneaking across the border, but again, he's not that great at it.
tooktheblack: (119)
[personal profile] tooktheblack
WHO: Jon Snow
WHERE: woods; House 25; weirwood (locked to Starks only)
WHEN: 18 August (plague prompt); early September
OPEN TO: all; weirwood prompt locked to Starks only
WARNINGS: usual sad bastard warnings.



a. bring out your dead

It had only taken a few days after visiting his lord father for Jon to fall ill and he tried to ignore it and push past it as much as he could. He did what he could to keep going, to maintain his routine, but after three days he fell to the fever and the rash and took to his bed.

Jon couldn't ever remember being ill like this. Once, during the False Spring, he'd fallen ill with a flu that all the rest of the Starks had fallen ill with one after another in succession. While Sansa and Robb had the touch of Catelyn Stark to soothe them when they thrashed in the sheets, Jon only had broth from Old Nan and the fevered dreams of a boy who wanted his mother more than anything. He wanted his mother to put cool cloths against his forehead and to brush his hair back from his brow.

His mother never came.

Now, as a man grown, he wouldn't do anything so weak as beg for his mother but he did, in passing, wish to be put out of his misery a handful of times. He hoped that none of his other siblings had fallen ill with this and that only he and Father had gotten it. Perhaps the girls and Robb had been spared and Jon would be better in a few days. Didn't it pass? All things passed in time.

So, for the first time since that illness as a boy, Jon Snow took to his bed and didn't rise for a week.

b. but i'm feeling better!

After laying in bed for a week and a half, Jon finally felt well enough to venture out into the woods. His traps were all a loss, considering they hadn't been checked while he was ill and he spent a few hours redoing the lot of them. It was tedious work, yes, but he was just glad to be out of his bed and moving around again. He hadn't been the best patient while he'd been ill and he'd been really glad to be out of the house; he had the idea that he'd spend the whole day out of doors if the women in his life would let him.

Once he'd reset all of his traps, he took one of the bows to actually hunt, feet silent against the leaves. It was times like these that he missed Ygritte. For all that he was good with a bow, she was better, and she could shoot further and cleaner than he ever would. Still, he had a duty to feed those in the village and he wouldn't manage that if he was lost in a dream of days past. Seeing a rustle out of the corner of his eye, he nocked an arrow and let it loose, pleased when it struck a grouse. It'd make a fine dinner for someone, whether it was his family or up at the Inn.

c. you have found...the shrubbery!

The weirwood was still a tiny thing but even as a sapling, Jon knew what it meant. He occasionally said prayers in front of a heart tree for his family who hadn't come here to this village - for Bran, for Rickon whom he knew was dead and gone. He said them for Catelyn Stark, that his siblings might have their mother again. He said them for Ygritte, for the brothers he'd lost at the Wall and the brothers who had betrayed them. It was a time to think and reflect, to remember the Old Gods and the First Men and how they'd given rise to the man he was today.

It seemed so far away from him now, the snows of the North and the battle that they had yet to fight. There was a war to wage against the dead and yet he was here in a place that was summer-green, a place that winter lasted only a few turns of the moon before it became spring and then autumn. It seemed like madness that seasons would last only a few moons' turn but he guessed for those not from Westeros, the opposite must seem true.

He knelt for what felt like an eternity, his lips moving without sound escaping as he gave his prayers to this fledgling tree in hopes that House Stark would take root here in this village and be strong once again.
super_seal: (Action - Gun - Hidden)
[personal profile] super_seal
WHO: Steve McGarrett and YOU
WHERE: Fountain, Forest, Village (behind and in between buildings)
WHEN: September 3rd
OPEN TO: All
SCRUB COLOR: Hunter Green
WARNINGS: None to start
STATUS: Open

[ Fountain ]

Coming to, Steve knows instantly that he’s underwater. Fighting the upwards momentum, he opens his eyes and tries to get some idea of what the hell is going on. All he sees is darkness with light shining down from above. He knows which way to go and after confirming he’s alone without any detectible threat in the water he kicks up.

Slowing just before surfacing, he eases his eyes and nose above the water with barely a splash. SEAL training coming in especially helpful at the moment. He scans his surroundings, only to find that nothing looks familiar.

The last he remembered was taking Wo Fat prisoner and flying a chopper from an island not far off Hawaii. They’d been over the pacific, he remembers that, but then nothing until coming to in the water. Had someone shot them down? The chances of him landing in the fountain he found himself in was extremely slim, but it is possible someone attempted to dispose of him there. The landscape doesn’t look familiar and he doesn’t think he’s on the islands anymore. Which makes him wonder how long he’s been out and where exactly he is.

But first things first. Easing up high enough to see over the edge of the fountain, he sees what looks to be... a park?


[ Forest ]

Out of the fountain, he makes quick work of getting some distance between him and it. It’s not till he has some cover in the trees does he notice what he’s wearing. It strikes him odd to find himself in scrubs and instantly he misses his cargo pants and everything he normally keeps in his pockets. What he misses most though is a weapon.

Taking inventory of what he has in the backpack, he decides against changing at the moment. Changing may help him fit into whatever mess he’s found himself in, but until he has more intel he’ll stay as he is. Instead he removes only one sock from the backpack and with a quick look around him he picks up a rock about the size of his fist and slips it into the sock. Not a great weapon, but it’s better than nothing until he has time to either acquire some or make something better.

With the backpack secured to his back, he carefully scouts out the forest staying as concealed as possible while also gathering as much information as he can. As he moves through he does some light tracking of any animal trails that he might find as well as notes any vegetation that could be useful for food, weapons, tools or anything else he may need. He may not need any of it, and doesn’t waste time lingering, but if he needs it later he’ll know where to find it.


[ Village ]

Once he ventures out far enough from the fountain, he sees the buildings. With the fountain he had figured there was a settlement of some sort not far off and now that he finds it, he’s curious to see what he’s up against. Attempting to keep as concealed as possible, he peaks into windows and around corners.

The town isn’t what he was expecting and he’s still confused about where he is and why. His leading theory is that Wo Fat somehow managed to get the upper hand, knock him out and brought him here, but seeing the village and the people walking around without weapons he realizes that doesn’t seem likely either.

After watching for a bit he slips his ‘rock-in-a-sock’ into his backpack and ventures in closer. He can only find out so much information by remaining hidden and so far he’s not detected a specific threat. Still, he came to by almost drowning in the fountain and as far as he knows, any one of these people could have tossed him there... Along with a backpack with three days worth of clothing. Whoever put him in the fountain hadn't expected him to die there. So, he’s ready for anything.
theintercessor: (Default)
[personal profile] theintercessor
WHO: Jude Sullivan
WHERE: The fields (behind the Town Hall)
WHEN: August 18, Afternoon
OPEN TO: ALL, Mingle style post for the Specimen Room plot
WARNINGS: See the Plot Post for details of the Specimen Room and its contents


Jude's glad to have the meeting out of doors, with or without the illness to prompt it. The cave-in hadn't scared him out of the canyon's cracks and crevices, but the room he'd found with Margaery might, and he needs every helping factor he can get to keep himself steady through the meeting. Public speaking is less a great fear than a thing he's never cared to do, but public speaking on a subject like this might prove too much, and if he pitches over again in front of someone, he's going to throw himself in the fountain and never come back out.

He'd gotten some help to carry the board out of the inn, tacking up fresh sheets of paper to the back of it. While others gathered those villagers well enough to come out to the fields, he'd done his best to recreate his and Margaery's view of the room through the glass, the layout of the coolers, the shape of the machinery at its center. Next to that, he'd tried to draw a rough overview of the room--what shape it might have from above, the placement of the door, the curve of the tunnel that Margaery had led him down.

As far as he'd noticed, there was no way around the rest of the cave to get at the door, but he hadn't been very inclined to look. When he pulls back from the board, charcoal staining his fingers, his brow where he'd wiped back his hair, he turns to find a crowd gathering behind him.

When it comes to the actual explanations, he struggles a bit to project his voice, but the words are there when he looks for them. He sticks to using the drawings to present the information, pointing to each element in turn. "There're electrical lights, florescent ones, in the room and the coolers, so I guess they're working too. And the glass was--uh, well, it was thick enough that knocking into it didn't break anything."  He drops his gaze to his feet, hiding behind his hair at the memory.



[OTA within the post or tag others. Please indicate in top levels if you do not allow threadjacking, or if you have specific warnings for threads. Use the link above for a complete list of details about the Specimen Room; ask questions, or assume that the details have been given in your threads!]
ethnobotany: + alexander | i am so sorry i couldn't save him }{ ethics ({ confusing stars for satellites)
[personal profile] ethnobotany
WHO: Beverly Crusher
WHERE: The Inn, her house, fountain square, the spring
WHEN: August 15-20
OPEN TO: every section is OTA
WARNINGS: Mentions of: death, terrorist attacks, being held hostage. She'll be having delirious flashbacks and I'll update warnings as needed based on threads.


August 15th is mostly a normal day for Beverly. The luncheon is nice, the only difference to her day. Otherwise, she spends the day at the hospital doing her duty or at her house, working in the garden or inside. It's while she's in the garden that she begins to notice how... off she feels. It isn't much at first, though she wobbles a bit when she tries to move and can often be found leaning over with her hands on her thighs and her eyes closed. Sometimes she's even very obviously leaning against the fence itself for support, and she isn't entirely sure she can manage to make it through.

Eventually, she manages to get back into the house. Just inside the door, she calls out, "Jean-Luc―" and falls to her knees on the floor.

The 16th hits her hard. Visitors may be welcome to stop by while she's sick, but she may or may not be lucid. During those lucid moments, she's chilled and feverish and very obviously ill, but she can at least hold a decent conversation. When she isn't lucid... less than pleasant may not accurately describe her condition. She paces when she can pull herself out of bed, and when Jean-Luc will allow her to. While stuck in bed, she rolls and tosses, not entirely aware of her surroundings, and can be heard mentioning something called the "Ansata" or "Cardassians" with a tone of distate mixed with fear. Someone lucky might even hear "Q" in a tone of quiet loathing. The unlucky may hear something else in a tone of cold and very real fear: "It's the Borg."

Early on the 17th, she starts escaping. It's never for long, but any time Jean-Luc needs to use the bathroom or make tea or food or check on her garden or even closes his eyes for half a second she takes the opportunity to flee. She's fast for someone who's as ill as she is. Clearly there's a lot of built-up energy inside her. Either that or she's literally running on empty and will drop to the ground in the next instant. Either way, she ends up in places like the Inn or fountain square. One time, she even makes it to the spring, where she ends up cooling herself off by swallowing a bit of it at some point. By the end of the day, she's back in bed.

For the 18th and 19th, she stays in bed for any visitors who might want to come by again, but this time Jean-Luc is stricter about her confinement. It's just as well, though she isn't in any frame of mind and hasn't the strength to escape again. By the 20th she has miraculously recovered and after lunch, she heads back to the Inn to see if she can find anyone who visited or might have heard that she was ill so she can reassure them that she's fine.
chirrutsluck: (Default)
[personal profile] chirrutsluck
WHO: Baze Malbus and OTA
WHERE: Out and about, and then the inn
WHEN: August 16th and onwards
OPEN TO: Any and all
WARNINGS: Grumpy spaceman is grumpier than usual, plague is catchable if you want it to be

Yesterday he'd started to feel... off. Today, he definitely feels off, and it's more obviously in a "sick" kind of way. It's ridiculous. Baze hasn't been sick in years. Decades, even. So he ignores it, and continues doing his usual things-- prowling the forest setting snares, doing rebuilding on one of the various projects around the village, helping around the kitchen for mealtimes, sitting on the inn porch trying to whittle tree branches into some sort of bow-shape. It just all seems to take longer than usual, and it all leaves him exhausted and over-heated.

And itchy. That red patch on his back and stomach definitely itches, though he tries not to scratch at it.

It takes a couple of days of this, pushing himself through what he figures is just a cold, before the really awkward stuff sets in, like seeing storm troopers out of the corner of his eye only when he looks, they're not actually there. Or making the rounds on his snares twice because he's forgotten he already did it, and being annoyed at finding nothing there on the second round.

Or seeing Chirrut laughing at him from the next chair over, on the porch of the inn, interrupting Baze's staring tiredly at the latest attempt at a bow and not actually making any progress on it. "You're dead," he tells the apparition flatly, unaware if anyone is watching him. "And now I'm seeing things."
viridescere: (contemplative)
[personal profile] viridescere
WHO: Oliver Queen
WHERE: fountain, 6I woods, border of 6I village
WHEN: 13 August - 16 August
OPEN TO: All (one locked starter)
WARNINGS: TBD



fountain (locked to Felicity)

Oliver doesn't expect the water. He's made his way onto a boat to try and save William from Chase, to try and make a play to save someone from a madman who doesn't play by the rules and he hopes that his team can figure out a way to survive on their own. They're savvy about this stuff now and if the island is rigged to blow, there's nobody better than Team Arrow to figure out how to defuse the situation both figuratively and literally. Oliver puts his faith in that because, otherwise, he's had to make one selfish choice to prevent the consequences of another and he doesn't like being put in that position.

He's not the same man he was ten years ago. He's not the same man he was five years ago. He's someone who weighs consequences, who knows that a final solution has lasting effects and that he cannot be judge, jury and executioner in all instances. He has to put his faith in the law and the blind scales of justice; he's different now than he used to be. He doesn't have to bear it all alone.

Still, he doesn't expect the water. He'd been int he boat moments before, making a play to save his son over everyone else and now he's in water and being pushed upward somehow. Oliver rides the swell, too out of it to really comprehend how he'd gotten from the boat to overboard and when he opens his eyes, he's shocked not to feel the salt of the ocean stinging them. Is that possible? None of this seems possible or likely.

When he breaks free, it takes him a few seconds to get his bearings. There's a fountain, a little park. He pushes himself up and over the lip of the fountain and collapses onto the ground, coughing up the last dredges of water burning his lungs.

This is not Lian Yu.

woods

As soon as he gets some semblance of self, Oliver heads for cover. If this is Lian Yu or another prison like it, he doesn't want to see other people until he knows exactly what to expect. He's not armed and he only has his brain and his fists to get him out of any trouble. While that's more than sufficient in most situations, he doesn't want to force an encounter if he doesn't have to. He wants to spend some time in the woods, wants to see the comings and goings, and then he wants to make a plan.

He'd bolted from the fountain to the woods almost immediately and luckily they're thick enough to provide good cover. He's found enough to eat by foraging but that's going to run out soon and without something to hunt with or clean with, he's not going to survive for long. He needs food, eventually, but he has a little time before he has to start making decisions on his belly.

When he hears a rustling in the woods beside him, he stops short and takes cover behind a tree, trying to see who or what it is. He's not exposing himself unless he has to; he's going to take any measures necessary to keep himself safe.

outskirts of village

After three days, his curiosity gets the better of him and he draws up closer to the buildings that serve as some sort of town center. Oliver has watched people come and go long enough to realize that this isn't a prison in the traditional sense. If it's a prison camp, that's one thing, but there's no shackles from what he can see and people can travel freely. There's nothing inherently dangerous, either, from what he's seen and he's hungry enough and desperate enough to draw close to the village and try to decide if he wants to join their society.

Who is the leader? Who are they loyal to? Is this another one of Adrian Chase's tricks? Oliver doesn't know. He can only trust in himself, for now, and anyone he knows from home. There's nothing else he can trust until he's vetted it with his own eyes and for now, he's going to be cautious. He doesn't want to reveal too much of himself or his skill - that's a great way to get a target on his head. Still, he steps out into the village and greets the first person he sees, tries to pretend like he hasn't been there hiding in the woods for three days.

It's a step.
ad_dicendum: (gestu)
[personal profile] ad_dicendum
WHO: Gaius Gracchus
WHERE: The Inn foyer, exploring 7I, the peach grove, and back at the Inn
WHEN: August 12
OPEN TO: Everyone
WARNINGS: None yet


morning of August 12 --> Inn foyer and outside

Gracchus had woken that morning to find another of the strange gift boxes outside his room. The last one had contained tunics, tablets, and styluses, and this time, he opens it to find an offering bowl, a small cup, incense, wine, and a stole that could be used for covering the head. Supplies for making offerings. Since he came here, he's had to rely on saving parts of his meal and leaving them with the little wooden figures he'd found. Now, he can do something properly. Not that there's a household altar here or anything like it, but there is an entrance space to the Inn that doesn't serve the same function as an atrium, but is at least in the same important location.

So before breakfast, he carefully washes and shaves, and murmurs the words of ritual cleansing, before he takes the figurines and the box he's just received down to the Inn's atrium. They're not his, not the little figures of the gods and his family kept in their lararium in his home back in Rome. But he's kept them since he found them here, because they would be enough, if he managed to get anything to make the offerings to his gods and his family that were a part of the life of every Roman head of household. He places the figurines and the offering-bowl on the edge of the desk, then places the stole over his head and shoulders. Then he holds out his hands in supplication as he begins the prayers: first to Janus, as is proper, but then to Neptune -- whatever Aristotle and the Greeks may say about the causes of earthquakes, there have been too many here, so many that a prayer and offering to Neptune seems wise -- and then on to the spirits of the household, whatsoever of them exist here. Last, he speaks to the spirits of his family: his father, his brother, and in their absence his mother, wife, and daughter. He pours wine into the cup, then into the offering-bowl, then sips it and invites the spirits to join him.

Later, after the ritual is finished, he sets the figures to one side, out of the way but still there, in the room, where they can perform their watch over the household, and takes the leftover wine in the offering bowl outside, to pour it reverentially into the ground.


later --> exploring 7I

He hadn't felt comfortable venturing out into the new area that had been uncovered by the earthquakes until now, but now that he's made a prayer and offering to Neptune, he dares the journey. Gracchus is dressed in one of his tunics, the most comfortable clothes he has here, but he's also carrying the strange pack that he'd been given when he first arrived. He has few supplies to carry with him, but he does want to bring a tablet with him in case there is anything that needs recording, since he doesn't think the whole area has been explored yet. He's heard tell of a sea that's been discovered, but he's just as interested in the land: lacking a boat, the sea isn't going to help them to escape, and he knows more about the use of the land than the sea.

It's strange finding himself in a mirror-image of the village that's been his home-in-exile in these past months, but while he's exploring, he pays attention to what he finds where, and after he's determined precisely how similar the village is, he decides to see what else is the same. There are other spots around the village he's used to that are important, and learning if they are the same or not may be significant to understanding more about this place.

It's when he gets to where he's expecting to find a spring bubbling into a deep, calm pool that he finds a major difference. Instead of the large clearing with the spring in it, there's a grove of unfamiliar trees, branching up towards the sky, some of them far beyond his head. The branches are laden with a fruit he's never seen before, round and reddish-gold, firm to the touch when he reaches up and picks one. His hand rests on the trunk of one of the trees as he looks up into its leaves, and a roughness under his palm makes him look down again. There's a symbol carved onto the trunk, one that's completely unfamiliar to him. It looks a little like a tree with a dangling branch, with a trunk and then some lines drawn across it, with another cut at an angle to the others. It's not Greek, and he wonders if it might be Egyptian, that strange language of pictures he'd heard of from some of his tutors.

Whatever it is, he carefully takes out his tablet and scratches a drawing of the sign onto the wax, before he starts picking the fruits.


evening --> back at the Inn

When Gracchus gets back to the Inn, it's with a pack full of fruits from the trees. He hasn't tried any himself, uncertain whether they're good to eat or not, but if they are, they should be a good supplement to the food stores here at the Inn, and Kate Kelly can probably use them. He heads for the main room, unsure whether or not he will have missed the evening meal. Whether it's past mealtime or not, that's usually the place where the most people can be found.

He takes one of the fruits out of his bag, and holds it out as he walks into the room.

"Excuse me," he says in English to the first person he meets, "do you recognize this?"


evening prayers --> he will be repeating prayers in the evening if your character wouldn't be at the Inn in the morning

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