rangerbecket: (Default)
[personal profile] rangerbecket
WHO: Raleigh Becket
WHEN: 19 October
OPEN TO: Sansa Stark

*** )
rangerbecket: (097)
[personal profile] rangerbecket
WHO: Raleigh Becket
WHERE: 6I village, Inn
WHEN: 21 August - mid morning
OPEN TO: All + Mingle
WARNINGS: Put on your Eclipse Glasses TBD

Raleigh had been on his way back from his normal morning routine of checking his traps and fishing for a while when he noticed the sun wasn't quite the way it normally looked - he'd caught a glance at the reflection and saw that the sun, normally perfectly round, was looking a little like a lemon that had gotten beaten up at the grocery store. Huh. An eclipse. He hasn't seen one since he was in Ranger training and he hadn't gotten a good look at that one because he hadn't been directly in the path of it (and, obviously, he'd been preoccupied).

This one, though, looks like it's just starting so Raleigh has time to go to the Inn and tell the people there that there's an eclipse starting and they should get something to try and look at it. He's not exactly sure of the science behind it but he remembers being a kid and making something with a box and earlier he'd done pretty well with the water. Maybe they can take pots outside with water and just look at the reflections? Might work. Maybe, too, one of the scientists has a better idea of how to get a look at the thing.

For his part, it's just something that's different from the norm. Raleigh hopes it's not a sign that the sun's going to start moving backward or staying up all month like it had a few months back and that it's just a perfectly normal, natural event. After earthquakes and people getting sick with some kind of crazy illness, it was good to just have something...mundane to focus on.


20 Jul 2017 06:55 pm
learntthehardway: (106)
[personal profile] learntthehardway
WHO: Diana Prince and OPEN
WHERE: Fountain, Inn.
WHEN: Evening of July 20th and on
OPEN TO: Open to everyone
WARNINGS: N/A will update if needed

f o u n t a i n

    She felt as though she were floating, coolness surrounding her, caressing her skin. Slowly, she opened her eyes and jerked back realizing that she was emerged in water. She floundered for a moment, trying to figure out just how she got there but decided that getting to the surface was more important at the moment. Normally she loved swimming, but she couldn't think of how she'd ended up in.

    What stated at first as uncertain movements, turned into calm strokes as she pushed herself up towards the light dancing across the water's surface. She'd always been a sure swimmer, able to swim long distances, hold her breath for long periods of time. But now she found that her lungs were beginning to burn before she even got to the surface. She doesn't understand but as she shot up out of the water, she was gasping for breath.

    Diana was still gasping as she pushed her way over to the edge of the fountain she found herself in. She looked around and her eyebrows drew together and she realized that her surroundings are completely foreign to her. She dragged herself out of the water and the black clothing she has on feels heavy and water pools under her as she stands there, trying to make sense of what was happening. She pushed a wet, limp strand of hair out of her face and she shook her head. This was wrong but she knew she had to figure out where she was so she could get back home.

i n n

    She'd explored the village and hadn't really seen anything that would alert her to anything obviously out of place. Except not a lot of people seemed surprised to see a woman walking around sopping wet, carrying around some backpack she'd come out of the water wearing. She hadn't really tried talking to anyone and though she wanted answers, needed the time to pull herself together, to try and just figure it all out. She might not have known where is was, but she knew she needed to get out of there, to find a way back to where she belonged.

    She finally found her way to the inn, and honestly she probably should have gone there first. Inns had people and people meant information. Information meant a way out of there. She stepped inside, eyes blinking to adjust to the change of lighting and then she'd taking stock of the room, examining its occupants. She wanted to ask questions, to get answers but she was also hungry and a bit tired. She pushed that back though and rounded her shoulders and took a deep breath before heading towards the first person she sees.

    "Excuse me!" she called out to them. "Where is this place?"
truecaptain: (pic#7062781)
[personal profile] truecaptain
WHO: Kanata Shinonome
WHERE: fountain, around of the village
WHEN: June 14- onward
OPEN TO: Anyone
WARNINGS: N/A, will update as needed!

Read more... )
learned_to_die: <lj user="buckybear"> ([look] weirwood)
[personal profile] learned_to_die
WHO: Eddard Stark
WHERE: In the woods near the Stark cabin.
WHEN: June 13
WARNINGS: None; will update as needed.

It had arrived in a box.

Ned had carried it to his room, careful and gentle, and left it at the foot of his bed until he'd returned to the house later that afternoon. He's received the mysterious gifts before - a cloak, some gloves, other assorted items - but this was a strange sort of weight. Neither heavy nor light, not muted in sound the way the clothes had been. And tall. The box had been taller than the others he'd received, and for a time upon his return, Ned eyed the thing with careful precision and consideration before even laying another finger on it.

He finds his movements, his very breath to be more laborious than normal in light of the sudden disappearance of his youngest daughter. He'd woken one morning to find simply that she'd vanished, seemingly evaporated into nothingness. He'd been warned many times over that such an event could take place and did take place with some regularity, but - he'd foolishly thought his family to be immune. Certainly, given the what they'd gone through, given the pain and suffering they'd already endured, the Old Gods would not see fit to separate them once more.

What a fool he'd been.

After some deliberation and quiet self-muttering, when he feels the time of curiosity and thought has passed, he removes the lid, peering down into the chamber. His brows lift with surprise, eyes alight for the first time in days with intrigue and something vaguely resembling happiness. He reaches out and pulls out a neatly bundled sapling. To those not of Westeros, it might appear to be any other tree - something similar to birch, as he's learned, but to those from his homeland, they'd know the sight of a Weirwood immediately.

He perches himself on the end of his bed as he inspects it, slowly turning it in his hands. It feels real, true. There aren't any illusions he can find. He worries for a moment that having kept it in the box for so many hours might've damaged or dried out the roots, so - now, with a focal point outside of the grief and mourning he carries with him in his broken, shattered heart - he hesitates not a second longer before making his way outside of the cabin and a bit further down the path, where there are no more cabins to be found. He knows that, over time, the thing will grow great and strong - he needn't encroach on his neighbor's territory, even in the name of the Old Gods.

Ned places the sapling on the ground carefully before leaving and returning with a variety of tools: namely, spades of different lengths and sizes. At once, he pours his sorrow into the repeated piercing of the earth and displacing of soil, cursing the Old Gods under his breath for leaving him a weirwood instead of his daughter.
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.
thegreatexperiment: (Upset)
[personal profile] thegreatexperiment
WHO: Samantha Moon
WHERE: Near that old arrival fountain
WHEN: May 19
WARNINGS: Probably some adult language
STATUS: Ongoing

"If I die in this attempt, I need you to drop everything and run for that truck to save yourself. Don't look back. Don't try to save me or anyone else. Just escape."

Everything inside of Sam wanted to argue, to fight to resist the command. But Avery had her in his power, his eyes consuming her entire being. It was funny, really. Although they were siblings only by sire--they shared no blood--it was remarkable how much they looked like. Apart from red hair, Avery had the exact same blue eyes as Sam. It felt almost like a cruel joke. This was the brother she was meant to have, but instead, she'd been saddled with the Predators and now it was too late to even...

The thought cut itself off sharply, along with the feeling of helplessness. But all of a sudden, Sam felt like she was underwater. She was underwater. And it was cold and she had no idea how she'd gotten there and...could Avery have somehow wiped her memory? No, then she wouldn't have remembered his final command about saving herself. And there's no way Avery, or anyone else, could have somehow caused the pressure that was building up in her chest. It was a familiar sensation, but one she couldn't immediately identify. All she knew, on instinct, was that she needed to swim.

She cut through the water as fast as she could, thankful for once for the Illinois State Department of Education mandate that all high school students had to pass a swim test. She'd missed out on plenty of rites of passage as a child. Learning to swim was not one of them. In no time, she'd launched herself over a stone ledge, drawing in deep and greedy breaths as she rolled across the floor. It was amazing how good breathing felt. Of course, she wasn't one of those vampires who'd aged out of breathing. She still did it on instinct. But it had never felt so...good... It almost felt like she...needed to...

There was no exact way to pinpoint when it happened. The realization just crept up on her slowly as she gasped and coughed and spit up water. Her heart. She could feel it beating, pounding in her chest like a little jackhammer, the way it used to after her high school track meets. Her heart was beating. She was breathing. And the sunlight was shining down on her face without even so much as a hint of pain.

...she was human.

Sam started to laugh. Or maybe sob. Or maybe it was a little bit of both.
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.
rangerbecket: (004)
[personal profile] rangerbecket
WHO: Raleigh Becket
WHERE: village road; river
WHEN: 17 March
STATUS: Still open. Feel free to catch him before the fireflies sting him or afterward.

The fog's really been putting a cramp on Raleigh's ability to check the lines and fish along the river and with the addition of the fireflies, he's both worried about himself and the rest of the villagers. How are they supposed to keep from getting stung when the things start swarming? He's tried to stay indoors as much as possible but that's not going to be sustainable for very long; the people in the village need to eat and he contributes to that as much by fishing as the hunters do with their bows and traps.

He's down by the river this morning. It's hard to tell if it is morning, considering he hasn't seen the sun in days and the fog hasn't lifted in what feels like weeks but it's after a long stretch of sleep so Raleigh's going to consider it morning even if it isn't. He's got a line set out to fish, lure set, and he's slowly tugging it back. It'd be easier with a proper reel but that's not something he's rigged up yet. The tackle box he'd gotten a couple months ago has gotten plenty of use, though, and he's learned how to improvise and use it along with the long, supple branches he favors for poles.

The trick with fishing poles is something that's sturdy, yeah, but has more give than break. He doesn't want it to snap with a fish on the line but he also doesn't want it to be so flimsy that it just whips back and forth. Striking that perfect balance is a pain in the ass but the other fishermen have helped him in that regard; Raleigh definitely knows when to look to his betters.

When he spots the flicker and flash of the fireflies he starts packing things up as quickly as he can to avoid getting stung but he doesn't quite manage, fireflies finding every available bit of skin. He wishes he'd worn his jeans and long-sleeved shirt instead of the scrubs he'd come in but with the weather slightly milder, he'd saved the jeans for if the cold came back.

"Shit," he mutters, stripping down and jumping in the river in a vain attempt to get the bugs off him. Maybe he's saved himself a couple stings this way. It works for bees, doesn't it? There's no reason it shouldn't work for fireflies.
markwatney: (013)
[personal profile] markwatney
WHO: Mark & Anyone
WHERE: The Town Hall
WHEN: Feb 16, afternoon through evening
OPEN TO: EVERYONE! This is a mingle post!
WARNINGS: N/A - Please warn in thread subject lines if needed

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

[CLEANING PARTY & MIXER! Threads can take place during the CLEANING portion, after during the MIXER or BOTH. They can be indoors, upstairs, in the attic, out back by the bonfire, chowing down, whatever -- It's 100% cool to improvise! Mark will have expressly told folks this is about getting to know each other and what they can each do, too. There are some additional OOC notes here.]
turned_to_steel: (❥ injured (cut on her cheek))
[personal profile] turned_to_steel
WHO: Sansa
WHERE: Outside the Stark house, then inside
WHEN: February 8th
OPEN TO: Anyone
WARNINGS: will update if needed but part of the lightning plot where Sansa gets hit

Read more... )
comfortablyerect: (Default)
[personal profile] comfortablyerect
WHO: Tim Gutterson
WHERE: The fountain, briefly, House 52, and eventually the Inn.
WHEN: January 30th and 31st.
WARNINGS: Brief description of war zone and depictions of a very mild PTSD episode.


Tim does not remember going to sleep underwater, but that's where he wakes up.

At first, he thinks it's one of his many nightmares, but he's never had one like this before. Normally, the nightmares that so often plague him are hot and dry — gritty sand on his tongue and between his teeth, sun beating down on the back of his neck, fatigues sweaty and uncomfortable. Usually in these dreams, he's on some high, rocky cliff side when the ghosts of the men he's killed come back to haunt him. Sometimes, the dreams involve the fellow soldiers he's watched die. Never are they wet, and never do they leave him scrambling for breath.

Maybe his dreams are evolving. That would be unfortunate.

Only, it's not a dream, and he becomes very aware of that when he accidentally inhales a bunch of water. He's awake, and he's drowning. Thankfully, he's close enough to the surface that a bit of scrambling has him breaking through, immediately coughing violently as he reaches for something to hold onto. Fingers grip roughly at the stone edge of the fountain, clinging desperately until he can gather his wits and examine his surroundings. All he knows for sure is that he's definitely not in Lexington anymore, and the shocking change is more than enough to put him right on edge.

Panic tries to burrow itself in his chest, but he shuts it out quickly, instead pulling out the only version of himself he's truly comfortable as: the soldier he became in Afghanistan.

It doesn't take long to take stock of himself. The clothes he wears are not his, there's no gun at his hip, and there's a backpack secured over his shoulders. It's also freezing, and while there doesn't appear to be anybody around, he seems to be in a small town, a little reminiscent to the one he grew up in.

He hauls himself from the fountain, but he doesn't go towards the nearest building. He finds a large rock near the base of the fountain, easy enough to carry but big enough to do some damage, and moves quickly but quietly through the village. The house he settles on going into isn't the furthest away, but it's remote enough, and the one directly next door seems to be in shambles. Inside, he takes stock of what's in his backpack before changing into something dry, then ventures back outside for all the time it takes to gather a little bit of wood from the nearby destroyed house to build a fire with. That night, he doesn't sleep. He flinches at every single noise, sits with his back to the fire, and keeps the rock firmly in his hand.


The next morning, he still hasn't relaxed any. His back is sore from sitting so ram-rod straight, and he feels so bare without a firearm on him. But the sun begins to come through the window and Tim knows he can't stay here forever. The fire's out and he hasn't eaten and he needs to explore his surroundings one way or another.

In the kitchen, he finds a couple of knives, slipping them into the waistband of his longjohns and pulling his now-dry scrubs on over them. He grabs the iron poker from beside the fireplace and with that, he's slipping out of the house and into the light of day. He skirts around the outside of the village, doing his best to avoid being seen by anyone, taking in the size of it and the various homes, some standing and some damaged. It's only when he makes a full circle around the village does he take to the road, choosing to go into the building that's likely to have the most people in it: the Inn.

[ ooc: This intro definitely got away from me in the end, but! Feel free to interrupt him doing any of these things on either day! ]
turned_to_steel: (♥ smiling (looking upwards))
[personal profile] turned_to_steel
WHO: Sansa Stark
WHERE: Down by the river - Raleigh's
WHEN: January 8th
OPEN TO: Raleigh
WARNINGS: will update if necessary
STATUS: closed

Read more... )
soldado: (sᴀʟᴛ.)
[personal profile] soldado
WHO: Daniel Sousa
WHERE: The Fountain
WHEN: Early morning of January 7
WARNINGS: Description and references of drowning and death. More to come???

Read more... )
womanofvalue: (relaxed)
[personal profile] womanofvalue
WHO: Peggy Carter
WHERE: #43 - The Vincennes
WHEN: December 27th - Evening
STATUS: Open (Gathering Style)

When the gifts had arrived, Peggy had treated them at first with the same suspicion as anything else here. Things simply weren't that good to be true, but these gifts had people's names on them this time. With the exception of several that she couldn't begin to understand (such as that one from a man named Ivan, that she barely recalled interacting with), the rest were so kind and thoughtful that she soon found herself with a wealth of possessions she hadn't hoped to possess here.

The party had been borne of one single thought: I have nowhere to wear such lovely things and when she'd found the wine and liquor from others (including Tony, which didn't surprise her in the very least), she knew that she could change that. She'd posted a quick notice at the inn using some of the cardboard of a box and the lovely fountain pen Helen had given her, then did the same at many of the public buildings, inviting people to her home and inviting them to bring any food or drink they might like to provide, as well as suggesting this as an opportunity to wear their fanciest.

She set out her drinks (the ones she was willing to share) and made sure to tidy the home so that it was presentable. In her youth, back during her first engagement, she might have imagined entertaining like this on a regular basis, but that had been swept away by the war. Instead, Peggy was left hoping that such a gala would be acceptable and that she wouldn't simply be here alone tonight.

Setting her new record player (and her single record) down, she cranked it to begin playing the record that had come with it (a pressing of the Glenn Miller Band), and then she began to convince herself that there was nothing more that she could do.


15 Dec 2016 06:19 pm
3ofswords: (facepalm)
[personal profile] 3ofswords
WHO: Kira Akiyama
WHERE: Arriving out of the Fountain, later at the Inn - evening or night
WHEN: December 15

When you're a kid, even growing up on the Hudson, there's something magical about snow.  You watch it fall from the grey sky, you catch it on your tongue--it's pure, and light, and you barely feel the cold.

At 26, face-down in it with his hood flipped over his head, Kira's fucking sick of it.  His face is going numb, his cheeks burning and chapped, and it tastes like the smell of the nearest dumpster with a fine dusting of cigarette ash.  The footsteps of the rioters grows closer, pauses.  His fingers don't so much as twitch over the 6mm in his pocket, though the opposite hand strokes one finger against the side of his cards, seeking the smallest comfort.  The deck told him to come back, and he can feel the three of swords at the top, his message to Ty scratched to the back of it--go home.

The gun isn't an option, against so many footsteps.  He has to play it safe, just another body in the alley, waiting for them to pass.  He has to get into the building, find the stash.  He has to get these antibiotics, or Ty isn't going anywhere.

He grits his teeth, grey snow melting against his lips.  Exhaustion saves him from flinching when a silencer taps against his hip.  "Leave it man, shit's still dirty out here.  We've got places to be."  The rifle lifts; someone steps over his body.  The snow crunches, broadcasting their footsteps down the alley and around a corner.  He'll give it another minute, until the sounds fade and the silence only Winter can bring falls again.

It's the span of his body relaxing, his head ready to tilt up, his eyes ready to open--he swears he falls asleep.  Passes out, loses the plot: when he blinks awake the world isn't divided between cold snow and cold wind.  It goes deeper, swallows everything around him, keeps the world dark when he opens his mouth and eyes and starts to gasp--only to find himself choking.  He doesn't wonder if the earth gave way under him, if he's fallen through the concrete and subway into the fucking sewers, if he's lost his mind and someone's dragged him back to toss him in the river.  All he can do is kick his feet, hit a hard surface below him and push for the surface, breaking it moments later with a whooping cough and a hoarse "What the fuck?"

The surface of the water provides no substantial answers, though it reveals the edge to be within reach.  Expecting a waterlogged parka to weigh him down, he tugs hard at the lip of a stone fountain, rolling himself several times over--a backpack?

Laid on his side, a parenthesis to the foreign landmark, he coughs and gasps again, air no warmer than Manhattan's assaulting his soaked body.  He's close enough to reach out a hand and lay it on the edge once more, his panic and confusion elaborating on their theme: "Fucking christ, what is this?"

[optional - at the pub]

Shockingly, a second dip in the freezing waters hadn't improved the situation, or his understanding of it.  He can't swim back to the alley and his hypothermic delusion is so advanced it's also trying to give him hypothermia, until he Inceptions himself out the other side and sets himself on fire in a daze, probably.  Hopefully--crazy and freezing to death is better than trapped.  At least his body combined with the note he left might lead someone to the supplies.

He stares down at the food left in front of him, wondering why he couldn't imagine a step up from what he'd been serving at the safehouse, and nudges it around on the plate just to feel his hand moving, see the signal his brain sends reach his body, try to decide if this is actually real.

He should eat, his fingers shaking from that as much as the cold, as much as the fear--but he pushes the plate back and hides them in the pockets of his new coat, burrowing into the warmth, missing his dirty old parka.

rangerbecket: (Default)
[personal profile] rangerbecket
WHO: Raleigh Becket
WHERE: The Inn
WHEN: 11 December

It had taken Raleigh most of the day to realize that it was his birthday but, in his defense, the place doesn't really have clocks or calendars. Since arriving, he's been keeping track of the days as best he can and the best he can figure, it's December 11th. That's his birthday and the weather certainly fits with it so he guesses, for all intents and purposes, he's twenty eight now.

He never expected to make it to twenty eight. Jaeger pilots don't exactly have long life expectancy and the way the world had been going before he came here, Raleigh didn't think he'd be living very long. He'd been working top of the wall for top rations and there still wasn't ever enough food; coming here meant good food even if he'd had to work just as hard for it. Twenty eight is a luxury. He wishes he could have a cake or something but he doesn't think he's had a birthday cake since he was a teenager, or something, and he's about ninety percent sure there's not any flour or sugar for such a thing. Still, he's hopeful, so he's stuck his head in the kitchen a couple times in hopes of spotting Kate to ask her. He can make it himself, he knows how to cook, and he's perfectly willing to share it.

He just wants something to mark the day, if he can, so around dinner time he finally gets in the kitchen with his catch for the day and starts working on cooking it. It's a little more than he usually ever cooks for himself but he wants to eat with other people today, share a meal and some conversation, and he's got a smile and a kind word for anyone who happens upon him. He hopes he's not in Kate's way, either, because he knows the kitchen is her domain (and she's good at it). He just wants something special for his birthday.

"Think you could help me lay out the plates?" he asks, not sure who's ducked their head in.
turned_to_steel: (♥ pleased listener)
[personal profile] turned_to_steel
WHO: Sansa Stark
WHERE: In front of her home
WHEN: Dec 8th
WARNINGS: will update if needed

Sansa finds a box. )
rangerbecket: (shirtless)
[personal profile] rangerbecket
WHO: Raleigh Becket
WHERE: The Corydon #36
WHEN: 2 December, early morning
OPEN TO: Sansa Stark
WARNINGS: None at this time
STATUS: Locked post.

Raleigh still doesn't sleep well even after having lost Yancy years ago and, that being said, he's only in a light sleep when the knocks start on his door. He's not really the type to get visitors. In the whole while he's been in the village, he thinks this might be the only one he's had other than when the earthquakes had been happening; those knocks had been to see if he'd been all right, not for something friendly.

As far as he knows, this is something else. The world seems quiet enough in the way it always does when there's no cars around and there's fresh-fallen snow and he shimmies into his scrub pants and some socks before shouting out that he's on his way. Depending on what it is, he might end up needing to grab a coat before heading back out but if it's just something that's only going to take a few minutes, he's not bothering with getting dressed.

Yuki's meowing loudly and winding around his legs and he knows she wants to be let out. At least this is going to serve more than one purpose, opening the door. "I'm coming! I just need to get dressed!"

After what feels like an eternity (an eternity with background music scored by the yowling of his cat), Raleigh opens the door to reveal someone he didn't exactly expect. Oh. Sansa Stark. His face melts into a smile and he opens the door a little wider, motioning for her to come inside if she wants. As he does, Yuki rubs up against her legs, eager to mark the new person as her own.

"Morning, Sansa."


Sixth Iteration Logs

October 2017

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