chosenbytheocean: (PB - oooooo)
[personal profile] chosenbytheocean
WHO: Moana
WHERE: 7i Beach Area [Also around the 7i Boat House & Town looking for stuff]
WHEN: Month of September
OPEN TO: EVERYONE [Feel free to make top posts if you'd like as well. Moana will hit everyone up but this is open to whatever people want.]

Building a boat! )

Image References: Moana's Boat, Boat One, Boat Two, Drawing One, Drawing Two, Drawing Three, Drawing Four.
lastofthekellys: (rabbit and dandelion stew)
[personal profile] lastofthekellys
WHO: Kate Kelly
WHERE: The Inn
WHEN: 15th August | Noon
NOTES: All sections are completely free for all! You can handwave your character helping out or thread it out, or just jump in to them eating. All characters are ICly invited, as they are every day. In light of the illness plot, feel free to use this post as an excuse for your characters to catch ill or spread the plague around.
STATUS: Open and ongoing!

Rain, hail, shine; blizzard, earthquake or lightning storm, the meals at the Inn have continued. People can, and do, wander in at breakfast and supper - as long as the stores are enough for three meals, anyway - but the main meal remains the one at midday. It's this meal which is the main event that Kate structures her day around, making sure volunteers arrive to help prepare, serve, and then clean; double-checking that there is enough food for all, that stores aren't too low and that fresh greens have been gathered. With the village chickens now producing eggs regularly there's a welcome addition of protein to the foodstuffs, and by now there are a number of experienced cooks in the village. At least, experienced in the ways of cooking communally and with what's on hand.

The main room of the Inn is swept, dusted; cutlery and bowls, plates are laid out on the sideboards in piles to be collected as people need. Everything is as it should be, even if some people - Kate included - are feeling a bit under the weather. But that's to be expected, isn't it? Everyone gets run down, has a day or two of feeling off colour. Certainly, it's nothing to worry about.

So come on in, help at the kitchen or pull up a chair at a table and enjoy some warm food and company while the outside confusion stays firmly outside.
chosenbytheocean: (I cant leave you)
[personal profile] chosenbytheocean
WHO: Moana
WHERE: 7I – Ocean
WHEN: August 3rd

Sad Thoughts & Losses

Small earthquakes had begun to tremble through the two villages but Moana didn't pay them any attention. She crossed the breach and made her way towards the ocean that rested on the other side, hoping to find a friend waiting for her.

She stood at the shore, her feet bare while the wind tugged softly at her grass skirts. There was so much that Moana wanted to ask the ocean but she couldn't find her voice. She knew that it wouldn't reply to her, she was too far from the home that she knew. Frustration rose in her chest and she kicked at the water, sending thick droplets into the air around her.

"Why aren't you here!?" She yelled at the water before falling to her hands and knees. Everything hit her at once: the loss of her friends, the loss of the heart and the constant reminder of her failure that hung like a beacon around her neck. Moana began to cry softly, her body shaking as the tears streamed freely down her cheeks.

"I need you." She whispered to the ocean, her voice soft as she begged for some way to escape the crushing defeat that weighed heavily on her shoulders.
bit_fairytale: (troubled)
[personal profile] bit_fairytale
WHO: Amy Pond
WHERE: Fountain
WHEN: June 28th
WARNINGS: Depression

It's been days since Amy's last seen her husband. At first, she'd just thought he'd gone off to the hospital to work himself to exhaustion like the man he is, but then he hadn't come back for dinner and hadn't come to bed with her. No matter how hard Rory worked, he'd always come back to her. Then, Amy had figured maybe he'd found a way out or the Doctor had arrived and Rory was in the middle of something, but the village is calm apart from its usual madness, and no one's seen Rory.

She knows what's happened. She's known since the moment Rory didn't come to bed, but her denial has been the only thing keeping her sane. Even that can't last forever, though, and now, Amy's finally starting to break because she's having to acknowledge that Rory is gone. He's been gone from her so many times before, but she almost wishes it were like the cracks in the universe again, just so she wouldn't have to feel like this.

"Come back," Amy pleads, for what feels like the hundredth time, hands together in desperate prayer. "This is not the sort of anniversary present that a woman wants, especially not for ten years together, Rory Williams, you come back," she demands, gritting her teeth together as she sinks to sit beside the fountain, feeling punch-drunk with exhaustion (she hasn't slept properly in so long, not since he vanished, and it's catching up to her). "We made a promise, it was you and me, together," she pleads, scraping at the stones of the fountain, like she can somehow coax him back with sheer faith alone.

She'd brought them to a bloody hotel prison with faith, she'd brought Rory and the Doctor back from nothing with memory, so why can't she do it again? Only, the water stays placid and still, no one comes out of the fountain, and Amy Pond is spending two days after her wedding anniversary alone. No Rory, no Doctor, and only Amy Pond, alone.

She rests her head on the stones of the fountain, eyes blurred with tears, her limbs heavy with grief and exhaustion. It's not the first time she's lost Rory, but it's the first time she's lost him and felt this aimless and without a plan. What's she supposed to do, now? What's the point of any of this if she hasn't got Rory at her side?
seekingcrocodile: (A man unwilling to fight for what he wan)
[personal profile] seekingcrocodile
WHO: Killian Jones and ota
WHERE: The inn
WHEN: June 20
OPEN TO: Everyone
WARNINGS: Will update if needed

The fact that when he wakes up he's alone in the bed is unusual, but by itself isn't enough cause for worry. Maybe Emma just got up early for some reason, or had trouble sleeping and didn't want to disturb him, so is somewhere else in the house. A quick check of the house convinces him that she's not there somewhere, so he sets out to look elsewhere for her.

He starts at the inn, ducking into the kitchen, because she often would help with cleaning or whatever cooking tasks that she could. No sign of her there.

No sign of her anywhere else either. She's not at the river, or the garden plot, or in any of the other buildings in the village. He even forgoes his usual tasks (and even food) in favor of searching for her anywhere he can think to look, and finds no trace of her except for her belongings in the house. Which can really only mean one thing.

He's sure that his fears have come true, that Emma has disappeared like so many others before her, and the only way he'll see her again is if he's returned to Storybrooke as well. All he can do now is hope. But there is one tiny sliver of that hope left here. It's possible, perhaps, that she's here, they just managed to miss each other all day. He's got no way of getting in touch with her, after all. They could have just been in different places as each other. He circles back to the inn, at a time when many of the residents of the village are eating dinner. He pushes the door open and steps inside. "Has anyone seen Emma?"
fishermansweater: (Actual human dolphin)
[personal profile] fishermansweater
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.
thesavior: (easycompany-ouat4x4-155)
[personal profile] thesavior
WHO: Emma and Killian and YOU (The whole Village, even people they don't know)
WHERE: The church, outside, the Inn
WHEN: Friday May 5th Mid afternoon
OPEN TO: All (one locked to Killian)
WARNINGS: It's a party so idk
STATUS:Open Note: This is a mingle style post. Feel free to write your own starter, tag around, have fun!!!

If life was truly a fairytale, then Emma would have woken up and the birds would have been chirping, and everyone around her would have burst into song. Life, however, at least in Emma's experience was not a fairytale. Today, however, felt different. She opened her eyes and a slow smile crossed her face. It was early so she had time to be lazy.

She was getting married today, or they were getting married today. She still had to pinch herself to believe that all of this was happening, and that, she, Emma Swan was finally going to get her happy ending. The powers that be must have noticed something was up because earlier in week she had received a box with enough pasta and meat sauce to feed their guests as well as some bottles of wine to share at the party. Emma had spoken with Kate and Sonny about the church and the inn, and even gone as far as to check in with Sansa about her dress. All of the details were in place, which was kind of scaring the crap out of Emma, because she was usually a fly by the seat of your pants kind of girl. For the first time in her life, Emma didn’t feel nervous or scared when it came to her relationship. She knew from the deepest part of her soul that Killian was her destiny and today she would get a chance to acknowledge that in front of everyone.

Emma felt like a princess as she stood before Killian, and pledged her love and her life to him. She left her hair down because Killian liked it that way. She couldn’t help the tears of happiness and the smile that just wouldn’t go away. Part of her was glad they were here and not back home, at least here they didn’t need to worry about curses and memory loss. They could just be happy and celebrate with their friends.

The Inn was sparsely decorated with flowers, but it was beautiful and Emma was happy. The food was served, and the wine flowed. The one thing Emma hadn’t thought about was music, but she didn’t care, she was happy to hum along as long as the guests were having a good time. This was a celebration of love and life after all. The party lasted well into the night, and after the last guest had left, Emma and Killian left, walking home hand in hand to start their new life together.
3ofswords: (yellow/drink)
[personal profile] 3ofswords
WHO: Kira
WHERE: Behind the Inn
WHEN: April 21st
OPEN TO: All, Spring Feast mingle post
WARNINGS: Please warn for content in comment headers for individual OTAs

He's hardly the first to arrive for a shift in the kitchens, but those ahead of him have sunk into the the search for the building's chairs and tables--the kitchen is open and empty, the tavern devoid even of stools.  It's another wrench in the works, one of the smaller reasons for routine to fall apart to reactions, and Kira thinks they'll have a better time of solving it if someone gets the fire up in the stove and everyone eats first.
The damage assessment has people upstairs, people on the path wandered out of their homes.  Kira hadn't come through his own dining room on the way out, so he can't say if he's missing furniture or not, and his growling stomach doesn't much care.
It's when he slips out the side door of the kitchen in search of fresh kindling that he finds it.  Every missing table and chair standing in the grass, laden with platters of food, buckets of bottled drinks, carafes of what he finds to be coffee sending steam from their lids.  There are pastries with the coffee, roasted fowl gleaming golden on the next table, between ham hocks shining with honeyed glaze, large fruits piled among wreaths of fresh flowers.
Dotting the tables are jars, more jars than they've had since he arrived, flickering with short candles.  Garlands accent the tables, carry from them into the trees, a web of spring decoration with a feast at its center.  Between the platters are smaller plates, small chocolates laid out under decorative drizzle.  
"Hey!" he calls back through the door, blinking several times to make sure the sight doesn't shimmer away into the air.  "I found the furniture, and I don't think we'll need to cook anything today."

womanofvalue: (occupied)
[personal profile] womanofvalue
WHO: Peggy Carter
WHERE: Inside the Town Hall
WHEN: April 3rd
OPEN TO: OTA - Mingle Style!

The weather has taken a turn for the suspiciously lovely and while Peggy knows better than to think it's going to last, she does know that around here, if you don't take the good when it comes, you're stuck with the bad. She's had a bad few months, recently, between the lightning, the fireflies (she still feels worn down and exhausted, honestly), and the rash of disappearances that had taken their emotional toll on her. With the weather changing for the better, Peggy decides to put it to good use, quickly spreading word around town that she's going to hold herself a class.

It doesn't take very long to get the word out, thankfully, but even so, she doesn't expect there to be that many people who come. Lucky for Peggy, setting her expectations low means that she'll be pleased if even one person shows up and she knows that she'll at least have guilted Sam, Stella, or one of her other friends into coming.

Still, it would be nice to feel in control and useful instead of on the defensive. Carefully wrapping up her hands, Peggy finishes moving the last of the chairs to the side in order to give them some space, settling down blankets because she also doesn't want anyone to break a limb simply because she wants to offer some hand to hand training or, in some cases, simply practicing an old skill that might be growing rusty.

Eyeing the space and breathing in the fresh, fog-free air, she thinks that what she very much needs after her last few months is to hit something extremely hard and she does hope to find that opportunity now.
seekingcrocodile: (this thing doesn't sharpen itself)
[personal profile] seekingcrocodile
WHO: Killian Jones
WHERE: The inn
WHEN: February 14th
OPEN TO: Everyone

Someone's in a good mood. Which is probably a little strange for this place, but that's just how it is right now. He's got something to look forward to, namely his wedding with Emma (or as much of one as they can manage to put together in this place, at least), and the weather's finally improving, a little at a time, and the whole situation is helped along by the occasional sip from the flask in his pocket. (Although he is rationing as much as he can, since he knows that he has a finite supply of rum to fill it with.)

He got a particularly good haul of fish today, and he's out of the way in a corner somewhere, with a basket of his catch and a bucket that he scrounged up somewhere, to use for catching the insides of the fish as he cleans them out. This (hopefully) avoids a mess all over the floor, and the contents of the bucket can then be used as bait or possibly as animal feed.

As he works, he finds himself setting a rhythm, which then leads to humming, soon followed by singing. That had been the point of these sea shanties, after all, to set the rhythm of a task for the crew. It comes naturally to him now, and the mood and the rum mean that he doesn't care what others might think.

"I'll sing you a song, a good song of the sea
(To me way, hey, blow the man down)
I trust that you'll join in the chorus with me
(Give me some time to blow the man down)

If only random bits of metal would stop sticking to his hook while he's working.
solus_unus: (pic#9712770)
[personal profile] solus_unus
WHO: Caius Vitale
WHERE: From the fountain to the Inn and then around the Village from there.
WHEN: 02.02
WARNINGS: Possible mention of Highlander type death prior to arriving

[Arrival > Inn]

It wasn't exactly a frightening experience surfacing in the fountain and realising he wasn't dead, or even in Ireland, for that matter. He wasn't back in the City either, so for a short few seconds to blink the water out of his vivid blue eyes, Caius glanced around. Needless to say, he knew well enough he wasn't there.

So where the hell was he? There was a pack on his back, and the scrubs weren't anything he could understand.

As he climbed out, something scraped against his forearm, leaving a deep enough gouge to bleed pretty badly, made only temporarily better when the water rushed off him. Immediately, the cooler temperature set into his bones and by the time he reached the Inn, he was trembling.

[Around the Village - Evening]

After finding out that the multiverse snagged him again, it was time to do some exploring. The whole situation was oddly familiar in that each time he took on a new identity and landed in the place where he'd live for the next decade, he did the same thing. So off he went to learn as much as he could. Create a mental map, if so to speak. Like the City, there wasn't much in the way of getting answers.

Until answers did become available, Caius looked up after the sun went down and marveled at something the City didn't have. Stopped right in the middle of a pathway, he stared up at sky while lightening danced amidst an aurora of blueish green ribbons of lights.

It was breathtaking.
fishermansweater: (What do you think?)
[personal profile] fishermansweater
WHO: Finnick Odair
WHERE: The Inn
WHEN: Evening of January 20th
OPEN TO: EVERYBODY! Kate and Finnick will be doing their best to make sure everyone is summoned knows
WARNINGS: Who knows with Finnick? Nothing expected.

It's late in the day by the time Finnick and Annie return to the village. They've pushed the timing as late as they can: while the auroras are still lighting up the night well enough to see by, they do nothing for the cold that creeps deeper under Finnick's skin with the sinking of the sun. And they definitely do nothing for the snow that had begun to fall again while Finnick and Annie were in the cave, their light dimmed somewhat by the heavy clouds.

The Careers need to get back to the village, and night falls early, now it seems to be something like midwinter.

They'd discussed whether or not to tell the villagers what they'd found. Finnick had thought they'd be giving up a vital potential advantage, but ...

Annie had been right that hiding what they'd found would damage their standing, and while he doesn't care about their reputation here much, he does care that Annie thinks they should be trying to get themselves closer to the villagers, not further away from the community. It has seemed to be the point of their gifts.

So when they make it back to the village at around dusk, they don't skirt around the houses like they usually do, sneak their way through the edges of the woods and find a roundabout way to get back to their house. Today, they go straight for the crossroads at the centre of the village, and straight into the Inn.

Finnick needs to find Kate Kelly, because she knows how to make things happen around here, and if they're going to tell everyone what they found, they need the villagers to gather.

"Kelly," he tells her when she finds her, "We need to call a town meeting. There's something people should know."

So it is that as night falls over the rooftops, gleaming green in the aurora-light as it bounces off snow, people who arrive response to a summons to the large main room of the Inn will find Finnick standing at the front of the room, holding a sketchbook. His ever-present spear is resting against the wall next to him, just next to their meticulously sketched map of the canyon on the stolen curtain.

There's a new mark on one side of the canyon walls.

[ This is your standard mingle-type meeting post! Finnick will have an OTA comment but feel free to mingle, start your own things, threadjack, whatever. ]
candor1: (Default)
[personal profile] candor1
WHO: Cassian Andor
WHERE: The Fountain
WHEN: Present at large, whenever's best for your character, in defiance of the space-/time-continuum. Multithreading welcome.
OPEN TO: YOU! (Everyone!)
WARNINGS: Vague semi-spoilers for Rogue One. Novelization quotes hyperlinked to citation page. (If not wanting to really be spoiled, don't follow 'em!)
UPDATE: (in comment thread) erm… apparently suicidal ideation and maybe indirect attempt.
STATUS: Closed
thesavior: (Default)
[personal profile] thesavior
WHO: Emma Swan
WHERE: All over
WHEN: backdated to December 20th
OPEN TO: Killian Jones
WARNINGS: possible adult content and fluffiness
STATUS: closed

Everyone deserves a happy ending )
guessihavelostcount: (88. oh? what is that?)
[personal profile] guessihavelostcount
WHO: Claire Bennet
WHERE: The Inn
WHEN: December 22nd
WARNINGS: None right now

The future is not written in stone. )
turned_to_steel: (★ surprised (gasp))
[personal profile] turned_to_steel
WHO: Sansa Stark
WHERE: The Inn
WHEN: December 20th
OPEN TO: Everyone!
WARNINGS: Will update if needed

Sansa had her jaw clenched and her hands buried deep in her pockets, hurrying towards the Inn as quickly as she could make herself go without running. It was tempting to run but she didn't trust the snow that clung to the ground and the fact that there could possibly be ice patches somewhere underneath. She didn't relish the idea of possibly slipping and hurting herself when she was supposed to be going to the Inn to get her first lesson in cooking breakfast.

So she was more than grateful for the heat she felt when she reached the front door and pushed it open to let herself inside the nice, warm building. Stomping her feet, she shut the door and looked up to see if she could spot Kate anywhere. What she found instead was enough to have her eyes going wide and her lips parting in surprise at the sight of boxes stacked everywhere in the main room. It didn't matter where she looked, there seemed to be a new stack of varying heights and sizes. So many of them that she wasn't even sure she could count them all.

It wasn't like the box she had found on her front step, though. These boxes were wrapped in pretty paper of different colors and designs, and all with a tag sitting on top of each one.

Unbuttoning her jacket, she moved to the closest stack of boxes and took a peek at the first tag that was visible to her. She recognized both names and found herself blinking in confusion while she glanced at the second tag. Had everyone else found a way to get presents to give to someone else and she had missed it? She wondered briefly if maybe it was something that had been planned from before she had arrived but why hadn't her brothers mentioned it to her? It was something she was still puzzling over until she found a tag that was intended for someone else but had her name on it as well.

A quick search at another stack had her finding a present that was intended for her.

Still curious and wanting answers, Sansa set her jacket aside and went back to the first stack of boxes. Plucking the first box off the top, she set it to the side and moved the second box to another area. By the time someone came downstairs or came inside, Sansa was making new piles sorted by the name of who the presents were meant for. She thought it would be easier for people to find their presents rather than everyone stomping around poking through every stack and reading every tag.

[ooc: This is a mingle post for people to find their presents if they are located at the Inn! If you wish to, please feel free to have your character find their stack of presents already sorted.]
seekingcrocodile: (what is this madness)
[personal profile] seekingcrocodile
WHO: Frank Castle, Killian Jones, and ota
WHERE: near the inn/the inn
WHEN: the night of the feast
WARNINGS: Uh. Gore and blood and stuff.
STATUS: Open and ongoing.

After four mutilated animals in as many weeks, Frank isn’t feeling much like celebrating. Word gets around, and the sudden appearance of this morning’s feast does nothing to settle him. They need the food, to be sure, with more hungry mouths coming out of the fountain every day and their winter stores getting no fuller; he doesn’t begrudge those who decide to eat it — but a meal like that appearing out of thin air? Sounds like a trap to him, and somebody’s got to not get caught in it. (If the feast would have turned his thoughts to crayon-colored hand turkeys and cookie crumbs and Frank Jr.’s small, still fingers in the blood-wet grass no matter what the circumstance, Frank doesn’t let his mind linger too long on that. )

Almost as soon as he’d arrived at the inn, Frank had set back out into the cold, bright day, but by the time the sun start to dip he’s swinging back towards it again, black wool coat buttoned up over his overalls, a lamp swinging by his side.

The now-familiar scent of fresh woodsmoke gusts through the air — and beneath it, the coppery bite of blood.

Killian had fewer qualms about enjoying the feast, even though he is still uncomfortable at the thought of someone watching them. Someone toying with them. But like he’d said all those months ago after he and Jo found the weapons (or tools, as some prefer to think of them), it’s also about survival, and the spread of food currently occupying the inn will go a long way towards ensuring their survival for another day. Discovering the presence of alcohol, which he hasn’t had a drop of in months, was another deciding factor in his determination to enjoy the food and worry about its consequences later. (He’s good at dealing with consequences. He’s had a lot of practice at just going with a situation.)

Even though the warm inn, with its smells of food and the smoke from the fire, is exactly the sort of place he used to frequent when he and his crew would put in at some port or another, he finds himself in need of some fresh air to clear his head. He’s been indulging in the rum, and having lost his tolerance due to going without a drop of it for months, it’s gone to his head more than it used to. Plus there is the looming concern about making it through the winter, and even if he’s not in charge here, worrying about the survival of everyone present is a hard habit to break.

He’s a distance from the inn before he stops, reaching for a tree for support. There’s the smell of blood in the air, familiar from his many years of a life at sea, but he thinks nothing of it. There have been so many attacks lately, and the smell ends up clinging to his clothes when he’s been preparing a pile of fresh-caught fish. It’s a smell he’s used to by now.

It’s when he’s reaching for the tree that it happens. His foot connects with something, something that shouldn’t be at the base of a tree. Something he can’t see in the dark. If only he’d thought to bring something with him when he came outside.

“What the hell…?”

At the sound of a voice, Frank squints ahead into the dark, trying to make out the approaching figure. Luckily, it’s someone he’s seen around enough to recognize from a vague outline in the dark. “Everything alright, Captain?”

As Frank lifts his lamp, the light falls across the well-trodden ground toward the tree, and Killian — and the limp arm resting against the ground at his feet. A woman’s, and far too quiet and still out here in the night. Frank lifts the lamp higher.

"Karen," he breathes, as the light hits her pale face. "Karen--" Louder now, Frank’s moving before he's thinking, boots skidding through the dirt as he rushes for her, his lamp hitting the ground hard and his knees harder as he drops down beside her.

She's too still. Too red. At her neck, in her hair, there's so much red, Jesus. Meat is coming out of her abdomen, and on some futile instinct Frank reaches to scoop it back in, like he can just put her stomach back where it belongs and she'll make it. She'll be okay. (She doesn’t look like she’s going to be okay.)

When Killian catches sight of her face, he can tell right away that she’s someone he saw around but not anyone he ever talked to in any way more than passing. He wishes he had, though, if only because he’s sure that she wouldn’t want to be remembered this way by strangers. He reaches out to stop the other man -- he doesn’t have to be a sawbones to know that it’s too late -- but then stops. This is how he’d be reacting if it were Emma beneath the tree, and he’d strike out at anyone who tried to stop him.

“The others need to know.” They’ll probably wonder, for one thing, and now it’s a matter of everyone’s survival. “I’ll keep them from coming out here themselves.” For privacy, and also because even during the course of several lifetimes at sea, he never saw anything like this. The others don’t need these images keeping them from sleeping tonight.

He turns away from the tree and heads back to the inn, allowing time for Frank to speak if he wants, but not expecting it. Killian pauses for a moment outside the door to the inn. He really doesn’t want to be the one to break the festive mood, but there’s no other choice. At least it’s given him a chance to sober up somewhat.

He stops just inside the door and waits until he has everyone’s attention. It takes a moment, because everyone is enjoying themselves, but the grave look on his face and the blood that he’s sure to have picked up from stumbling in the dark should help with that. He makes sure to stay calm when addressing the room -- panic would only cause more panic, and he’s hoping to keep enough of them calm for this not to turn into an even bigger disaster.

“It’s not just animals. Whatever is out there, going after livestock, has come for one of us now.” He pauses a moment to let that sink in. “Her name was Karen.”
vdova: (383)
[personal profile] vdova
WHO: Natasha Romanoff
WHERE: The Town Hall
WHEN: November 14th into November 15th
OPEN TO: Everyone! This is a mingle log.
WARNINGS: Description of injuries/probably descriptions of violence.
STATUS: Open to All
cut off one head... )
thesavior: (batch01_003)
[personal profile] thesavior
WHO: Emma Swan and You
WHERE: The Inn, the River, The fountain, basically anywhere
WHEN: Backdated to October 22nd
WARNINGS: None. It's Emma's birthday and she is wandering
STATUS: (open/Ongoing)

Emma made sure not to disturb Hook when she left the house. She wasn’t sneaking out really, if Hook wanted to follow her, he definitely could. It wasn’t like she could hide that she was headed to the river, there was only one way to get there.

She was still in a little bit of shock that Killian remembered her birthday, much less managed to get together the ingredients for a cake. It was actually the happiest birthday she remembered having in a long time. That realization hit her full force as she settled on the bank watching the water. She had always been calmed by the water and being here was really no different. She wished she could get rid of the feeling that the other shoe was going to drop at any moment.

Emma had decided to stop by the inn on her way home. She liked the sense of community that she felt whenever she was there, and she thought that maybe that would settle the disquiet in her head. She knew that she should feel lucky and happy, and she was. She wouldn’t trade her life with Killian for anything, but it was just one of those days when her old doubts and insecurities came to light.
She found a quiet corner, and ordered some tea. She really wanted Hot Chocolate with cinnamon.


Sixth Iteration Logs

October 2017

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