zomboligist: (like please bitch)
[personal profile] zomboligist
WHO: Ravi Chakrabarti
WHERE: Under a delicious tree (an evil, delicious tree)
WHEN: October 17th
WARNINGS: Ferrets, mischief, swearing

There is a ferret currently pawing at a sweater vest near one of the trees on the outskirts of town.

This isn't a sentence that Ravi would've ever assembled prior to this place, and yet, now it feels commonplace. If he weren't currently in a little ferret body, he might even feel compelled to squeak about how this place is awful. No. Wait, squeaking is for right now, which is what he's doing. It's all that bloody apple's fault for looking so green and perfect, and if someone's going to change you into a ferret after a few bites, he thinks he ought to be warned.

Of course, right now, maybe his priorities are a little off. First, there had been the immediate 'oh, fuck, I'm a ferret', and yet, after that, Ravi didn't think about switching back instantly. No, instead, he's far more concerned about the fact that he'd been wearing one of his best shirts and sweater vests and they're currently all in a pile where someone might step on them or, worse, might take them for their own. That won't do.

This is how there's come to be a tiny little angry Ravi-ferret pawing and clawing at the sweater vest to try and figure out a way to drag it with him back to his and Major's place. No opposable thumbs rule out hands, which means that teeth are next. That is, teeth are next until heavy footsteps and a looming shadow above him makes Ravi realize just how small he is and just how much he currently detests that stupid apple for making him like this.

What if it's permanent? What if he has rabies?

What if their dog eats him?

Letting out a panicked and angry squeak, Ravi clambers to protect his clothes ever the more, while simultaneously hiding behind one of his boots in case he ends up accidentally pelted by an over-eager kick.
theluckygirl: (▲ i'll listen)
[personal profile] theluckygirl
WHO: Claire Temple
WHERE: Fountain and settling in
WHEN: September 2 - 4
WARNINGS: None, but will updated if necessary


Like probably a lot of other people, once Claire was out of the fountain and able to look around, there wasn't much convincing that this was all some crazy dream. How else would one explain being teleported from the second largest city in the world to a place that looked like the population barely met 100.

And as nuts as her life had become, there was no way this involved the Hand.

Oddly enough, even though she kept telling herself it was a dream, it didn't feel like one. Physically and mentally speaking. She felt wide awake. So, Claire sat there soaking wet, looking at the fountain, trying to figure it out as she pulled the bag off her back and opened it up to hopefully find more clues.

"You know what this is, Claire? This is you finally cracking." she muttered to herself.

[Around the Village]

So, she wasn't crazy, but this was still insane and what made it worse was that Claire was by herself. No Luke, no Colleen, or Danny. Hell, she would have been happy to have Jessica around to share in the absurdity of the place. Then again, no. Having Jessica there would likely result in a lot of beaten up people.

But it would keep her busy.

Thoughts such as these ran through the nurses head as she explored the area over a couple of days. She checked out the inn and the hospital, which were both a stones throw from the house she claimed for herself. Everything else was more or less found as she walked past it.

And despite the new face looking calm and relaxed, she was doing a little freaking out on the inside. Oh, she definitely didn't want to be there. But by the third day in, she was quite aware that going home wasn't going to be happening any time soon.
zomboligist: (oookay)
[personal profile] zomboligist
WHO: Ravi Chakrabarti
WHERE: Hospital / Casa di Helen & Mark
WHEN: Anytime between August 7 - 10
OPEN TO: Mark, Helen, Kira, Major

It ought to be strange, really, taking your best friend from a world before and hiking him around for all your new friends to meet, but Ravi is somewhat determined to make sure that the people he feels closest to here really do like Major, especially seeing as he's going to end up picking up his life and moving in with him, mainly in an attempt to reclaim some of home again, but also because it's Major. How can he not move in with him and have incredible roomie shenanigans, again?

"They're going to love you," he vows, promising Major like he's the one who needs the pep talk instead of Ravi who needs a little bit of encouragement to sort of get over the fear that any of his friends are going to meet Major and, well, and not like him. He takes Major by the shoulders and stares at him like he's about to give him some sort of sports-related pep talk.

He doesn't, though, mainly because it would just make Major cringe and then Ravi would cringe with embarrassment and generally, it just wouldn't go over well. There's no time like the present, though, which is why he steers Major in the direction of the door, one hand draped around his shoulders like he's proudly showing off his latest creation (even if that sort of mad science has never been his bag of cats), plastering a broad smile on his face.

"Guess who has two thumbs and found a best friend?" he says, gesturing to himself, then to Major, then quickly back to himself. "I'd like to introduce you to Major Lilywhite. Yes, that is his name," Ravi says. "It's an unfortunate American thing, I think."
enterprisingheart: (definitely not as planned)
[personal profile] enterprisingheart
WHO: Jean-Luc Picard
WHERE: The fountain and around town
WHEN: 8/4
OPEN TO: Everyone!
WARNINGS: None at the moment; will update as necessary

The Fountain

With first contact with the Vulcans successfully (re-)established, the trouble with the trouble with the Borg dealt with, and the timeline (presumably) set back on it's proper path, Picard had, generally speaking, assumed that they'd make their way back to the 24th century and whatever inquiry might be awaiting them. Instead, he comes to and finds that he can't breathe, eyes snapping open a moment later to find that he's underwater. Which explains the former, at least, but not why he's here instead of on the Enterprise. Which isn't to say that he has any significant complaints, when it means postponing what would almost certainly have been a visit from Temporal Investigations, but it's not anything that he can he'd be expecting either.

But there's no time to dwell on the fact. He might not know why he's ended up underwater - or where - but he can see light coming from above, and that's better than nothing.

He breaks the water's surface a moment later, coughing and blinking as he begins to haul himself out of the fountain. As beginnings go, he thinks to himself, it's not a terribly auspicious one. But he's alive, even if he feels half-drowned, and just at the moment, he'll take that.

Out and About

Once he's had some time to get his bearings - helped a little bit by an explanation from Beverly - and has figured out where he's going to be staying besides, Picard takes to the streets. Such as they are, anyway, but the point is more figuring out the lay of the land. And what they have to work with besides - explanation or no, he much rather prefers to actually see things himself. And if that also comes with the opportunity to talk to some of the people he hasn't already met.

The earthquake catches him off guard, small though it is, for all that it's mostly that he hadn't thought to expect any tectonic upheaval.

"Never a dull moment, I see."

He's not really directing the comment at anyone. But it's spoken loudly enough to be easily heard, and the last thing he's about to do is stop someone from chiming in if they should care to.
pretendtoneedme: (running in the woods)
[personal profile] pretendtoneedme
WHO: Everyone
WHERE: 6I's Town Hall
WHEN: July 10th
OPEN TO: Everyone who wants in. There will be one subheader for welcoming back the group and one for the actual meeting
WARNINGS: Nothing so far; please add headers in the comment subjects if something does come up that could be problematic

The return is, when everything is said and done, uneventful. The group who went to explore the break in the canyon walks back into the village in the early afternoon, laden down with most of the supplies they'd brought with them and without any obvious injury. There's some scratches, a couple bruises, but whatever had happened to seal them away from the village for a week definitely didn't happen to them, and they're not buzzing with any news so world-shattering that everyone needs to be collected and reported to at once. There's enough time for the group to separate and grab showers, clean clothes, and something to eat, while the word passes from person to person that the explorers have returned and that there's going to be a meeting right after dinner for them to explain what they've found and answer questions.

At the appointed time, the five of them are there, looking less ragged, and ready to talk. They've brought a few things back with them to show the others in the village, but all in all there's just not a lot to show about the other side that's different - except for that one, giant thing. But the non-changes are going to be shocking enough for most people, and decisions have to be made about what to do with the information they have now.
notsocommon: (adventurous)
[personal profile] notsocommon
WHO: Helen Magnus
WHERE: 6I village, canyon breach, 7I village
WHEN: 2 - 10 July
OPEN TO: Bodhi Rook, Ned Stark, Mark Watney, Clint Barton
WARNINGS: None at this time.

As happened the last time an expedition was mounted, Helen found herself as part of a team to go and investigate something at the edge of the known world. This time, though, the known world had expanded to great degree and it seemed that the canyon that had hemmed them in and been the bane of all those trying to escape the last several months had rent in twain, leaving them with another side of the world to push forward and survey.

Of those she found herself traveling with, only Mark was truly familiar to her. She knew the others in passing, yes, but knowing faces and part of a name weren't the same as knowing someone and she hoped that they were as stalwart and competent as they seemed to be upon first glance. All of them seemed well aware of what such a trek was going to entail, at least, and Helen wasn't concerned that she'd end up having to carry a load bigger than she'd intended in asking them along.

She wished, as always, that she had supplies to be able to draw a map or make notes about the lay of the land beyond the breach. While she knew the forest and fields beyond the village well enough, everything beyond the canyon wall was going to be new territory entirely and she wanted some way to memorialize it for the others. She hoped that someone else had access to paper and pen, that someone would be willing to give up such a precious commodity for the good of the community and for the furthering of knowledge. Supplies gathered and goodbyes said, the hike was begun to the edge of the known world and into the great beyond.

"I have no idea what's beyond this breach," Helen said. "I cannot even speculate, since none of us have been able to climb it. Geology was never my strong suit."
notsocommon: (Neck; workout)
[personal profile] notsocommon
WHO: Helen Magnus
WHERE: woods, river, butcher's shop
WHEN: 10 June - 12 June

i. ❝ the year's at the spring ❞

Helen found that paper was a precious and limited commodity around the village and the bits and scraps she had leftover from her gifts over the winter were rapidly dwindling. She had written on every inch of paper as best she could, cramped writing fitting every square of space, and she was reminded for not the first time of Carentan and how things had to be made to last and last again well beyond their original expiration date. In this, she felt her age for one of the first times in her long life. She felt as her friend Tolkien had once described thin, like butter scraped over too much bread and facing her mortality head on wasn't a position she thought she'd ever find herself in.

She didn't particularly face it head on now if she could help it. This morning she'd found herself in the woods hunting for herbs but, honestly, they were few and far between. The sun was up nearly all the time now and while it flirted with the horizon, it never sank beneath it at night. The best they got was a few hours of near-twilight but no true night fell over the land and hadn't for the past several days. To add insult to injury, it was stifling hot and miserably dry. The grasses had either been eaten down to the earth by the grazing animals or withered and dried up.

Her basket woefully empty aside from some indigo for dyeing, she made her way back to the village, brow furrowed a bit with worry. She made a note in her already-cramped notebook: Sun - constant. Arid. Vegetation scorched.

ii. ❝ the hillside's dew-pearled ❞

Later in the day (for a given definition of day, anyway), Helen made her way down to the river to make observations there. It was dangerously low, the banks exposed to a worrisome degree. Much of their food came from the river by way of fish and if they didn't have that resource and the plants were scorching under the bright sun, what were they going to eat? Rations would need to be put into place regardless but this was escalating to a degree that had Helen wondering if they ought not call a meeting to discuss it. It was something she would certainly be discussing with Mark and Ravi when she got home to see if they ought to bring it to the village at large; her roommates were always a good sounding board for such things.

The bright sun glinted against something bronze and shiny against the dried mud of the riverbed and she picked it up, uncertain of what it could possibly be. It appeared to be some sort of arrowhead but she knew the people here who fletched and made arrows typically used flint for them, not bronze. This was something that didn't seem to fit with the activities that the residents normally engaged in and she slid the arrowhead in her pocket, intending to ask about it once she'd gotten back to the village. Perhaps the others might have a better idea as to what it could possibly be.

iii. ❝ all's right with the world ❞

In spite of the strange happenings of late, some things never changed and one of those things was the need for soap. A village like theirs with about five dozen people, give or take, went through a good bit of soap both for personal bathing and for laundry. It took a lot of Helen's time each week to make soap, cut it, leave it to dry and to distribute that which was ready to be used. Each batch of soap had to be cured for at least three weeks to a month before it could be used but given the bright, beating sun of the past month or so she'd had luck with curing soap for much less time.

"The only good thing to come out of this bloody heat is that I can turn over the soap much faster," Helen muttered, stepping outside the butcher's to get away from the hot lye and fat mixture bubbling over the fire and get some sort of relief. It wasn't coming to her here, given it was nearly as hot outdoors as it was inside, but at least she could fan herself and get a chance to get a few deep breaths without inhaling the scent of soap-in-process.

She slid off her t-shirt, standing in just her bra for the moment, and used the soft cotton to mop off her brow.
ethnobotany: have you noticed how your boobs have started to firm up }{ insurrection ({ i'm back for more)
[personal profile] ethnobotany
WHO: Beverly Crusher
WHERE: Hospital, outside House #15
WHEN: Second week of May
OPEN TO: Anyone, with one closed for Wanda
WARNINGS: Nothing for now, will update if necessary


It was a strange box she'd found that morning. What was even more strange was what she had found inside the box. A bunch of seeds of all sizes and shapes stared up at her, glinting in the little bit of light filtering through. What startled her more than those were the gardening tools resting above the seeds. It was like someone knew she liked gardening, knew she would want to help out and wanted a garden of her own. Was this something those Observers she had heard so much about liked to do?

Pulling out the tools, she set them aside and began to sort through the seeds. There were so many, she barely even knew where to start. Two of most things, except one willow and four aloe. The willow made sense, though she hoped it was the seed for a smaller willow tree. The aloe plant also made sense. The more aloe they had, the better off everyone would be. Some of these would have to wait for a greenhouse or something of the sort. Otherwise, the climate here would kill them. But some she could go ahead and plant.

So for the rest of the week, she could be found outside when she wasn't on a shift at the hospital. With tools in hand, she's either working on getting some of the seeds into the ground or trying to remember how Annie and Finnick were doing their fence so she can make her own. The last thing she wants is to have her new garden get eaten or run over when it finally starts to grow. She makes a point of looking for anyone who might want to help on either one of these endeavors.


Her colleagues at the hospital are all very important here. Beverly doesn't know what each of them knows about herbal remedies, but she sees no reason not to offer what she does know to them. The more of a supply of those remedies they have and the more people who know what they are and how to use them, the better. So at some point during the day, she finds each of them, walking up to ask a few simple questions.

"I've just received a bunch of seeds for herbs and plants we can use for medicine and poultices when they finally grow. How much do you know about medicinal herbs?"


Wanda is one of the people Beverly wants most to work on her garden with. Unfortunately, not knowing Wanda's schedule means she isn't familiar with the proper times and places to try to catch her. So Beverly sorts out a handful of the ones she wants to plant now, setting them aside so she can plant them with Wanda at a later date. It isn't until the end of the week that she finally happens to make it into the Inn at the right time to find Wanda. Making her way over, again being careful not to sneak up on her, she offers a small but very warm smile.

"I remember you being interested in gardening," she comments easily. "I've just discovered a whole bunch of seeds that I'd like to plant. If you're interested, maybe you could help me."
mund: DO NOT TAKE. (Default)
[personal profile] mund
WHO: Percival Graves
WHERE: Town Hall
WHEN: Half an hour after the first sighting / hearing of the Obscurus
WARNINGS: Mentions of violence, abuse, hate, etc
STATUS: Something like a mingling -- feel free to post OTAs of your own. If you need Graves to respond, just put his name in the header / or in bold somewhere in your comment!

the ragged they come, and the ragged they kill. )
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."

maternis: (l)
[personal profile] maternis
WHO: Newt Scamander
WHERE: the fountain, the canyon wall, and the woods.
WHEN: March 20th + onward.
OPEN TO: Everyone
WARNINGS: Just an extremely introverted magizoologist who prefers the company of all things not human.

The Fountain:

Newt was still in quite the state after finding himself in this place. A place, which, he apparently couldn't leave. A place that separated him from his creatures, thrust him into a place where his magic was little more than barely within reach at his current ability level, and wandless. After recovering from the strange arrival in the fountain, he had gathered what belongings he had found himself possessing, and distanced himself from what seemed to be the town center.

After taking stock of everything, he'd gotten a very basic idea of the general layout, and since, has returned daily to the fountain. He may look rather strange, a tall man in navy blue scrubs hunched over as he checks the fountain, and the ground surrounding it for clues. What he's looking for are tracks of any sort that might mean any of his creatures might have accidentally found themselves in this place as well. So far, he's found nothing to indicate as much, but he's hardly keen on giving up so easily.

The Canyon Wall:

When Newt isn't tracking creatures who have simply not followed him through to this place, or foraging or fishing for the necessities, he is exploring the land. He's seen swarms of fireflies, and inspected them from a distance. Something nagging in the back of his mind kept him from straying too close, and they seem to congregate in places that might offer means of escape. The fountain. The canyon wall. How curious. He walks along the rock face, one way for a time, keeping a steady pace and counting his steps. He wishes he had paper to map out the area, but perhaps he can find something the next time he goes into town. If someone were willing to trade pad and paper for fish or what edible berries and plants he's found, that would be most appreciated, but it also requires he be willing to make the trek into the small town center.

He would really rather not, if that was all right with everyone.

The Woods:

Newt is used to sleeping rough. He spent a year in the field, the brunt of it in Equatorial Guinea, either taking rest in the shed and on the cot in his case, or making use of nature around him in the wilds. He finds a secure place to rest, where he is sheltered, and his position is protected, and he can gather his things quickly if entirely necessary. While he was not the war hero his brother was, he did still serve and fight (albeit under some duress) in the Great War, and he learned to move quickly from compromised positions.

When he isn't catching sleep at odd times, or running himself ragged as he finds ways to busy himself in this new environment, he's exploring and gathering. While there may not be much by way of hunting or foraging, there are seeds, and he gathers those in case they might be of use at a later time. It's during one of these trips that he hears the high-pitched chirp that most might mistake for a bird of some sort, but Newt knows to belong to a rather small mammal. A squirrel, in particular.

After a little bit of searching, mimicking the sound that the mother would return in answer as she tried to find her youngling, he finds a small, injured baby squirrel at the base of a tree. He crouches down carefully to inspect her, and lifts her up after she's grown somewhat accustomed to his scent.

"Hush, now," he murmurs as he lifts her close to his chest, bringing his peacoat around his hand to offer more warmth to the animal huddled in the palm of his hand. From what he can tell, she has a broken paw, and it doesn't look as if she's been seen to by her mother for days. Orphaned, probably. It does happen. A tension in his chest he hadn't realized had grown so tightly coiled lessens a little, and he smiles gently after what feels like ages. "Mum's here."
ethnobotany: ({ waiting till I see it in your eyes)
[personal profile] ethnobotany
WHO: Beverly Crusher
WHERE: By the fountain, Inn, and wandering around
WHEN: 3/17 for the fountain, 3/18 all else
WARNINGS: None, except references to the cybernetic zombies that are the Borg

3/17 - Fountain
Getting dunked into a pool of water was not on Beverly's list of things to do today. She'd been expecting to punch back through time and space, get back to Sector 001, and see what the hell the Borg were up to now. And also prepare for a debriefing by Temporal Investigations when it's all over. The last is arguably what she's least looking forward to. No one likes those guys.

What she finds instead, as she climbs out of the fountain, is that she's not anywhere she recognizes. She's not in uniform, not even in the civilian 2063 clothes she'd been wearing last, and nothing looks familiar. To add to it, she can't remember how she got here. Even better.

Well, first thing's first. She shifts the pack off her shoulders and begins to rifle through it. A towel would be nice right about now, but she's not really expecting that. She does, however, suspect that one of two things happened to her and she mutters, "Q, if you're behind this..." to the air around her, just loud enough for anyone passing by to overhear. If no one stops for that, eventually she shifts the pack back onto her back and looks around for someone who appears more familiar with the area. Amnesia is something she can feign easily, so she approaches with an apologetic smile.

"I'm sorry. I seem to have gotten lost. Can you tell me where I am?"

3/18 - Inn/wandering
The next day dawns not so bright for her. Nothing she'd learned yesterday really makes her feel any better about being here. But here she is and she's determined not to let it get to her. Not yet. She's been kidnapped, held hostage, and forced to work before. This is almost old hat, as scary as that is to think. The Inn sees her for a short time, as she pokes her head around to see if there are any other Starfleet officers undercover. At this point, she'd even take a member of the Bajoran Resistance, someone from Deep Space Nine, or hell even a Cardassian just for something familiar.

Or Q, so she could yell at him. No matter what anyone might say, she's still convinced he's responsible for this somehow. It would be just like him.

The fireflies she sees around are as unsettling as they are beautiful and she does her best to keep away from them. She doesn't know what they might do on whatever planet this is. It's not Earth, that's for sure, not the one she knows. Unfortunately, that's not very helpful at the moment, so she ends up walking anywhere and everywhere, particularly if there aren't fireflies around. At some point, she's almost sure a group of them are following her, though she can't decide if that's a hallucination or paranoia talking. She eyes the group of them anyway.

"You can stop following me now," she tells them firmly, as though they can actually hear and understand. And care.
asklepian: (pic#7053845)
[personal profile] asklepian
WHO: Julian Bashir
WHERE: Fountain, Inn, also feel free to catch him wandering around looking lost
WHEN: 3/17

Read more... )
tsingtauense: (no)
[personal profile] tsingtauense
WHO: Lily Evans Potter
WHERE: The Fountain + The Inn
WHEN: March 7th + 8th
OPEN TO: EVERYONE [Multithreads 4ever]
WARNINGS: she's ruffled
STATUS: UPDATE: added second prompt! So gonna close new tags for her immediate arrival [Fountain] (leaving that mental space a bit) and OPEN new tags for the next morning [Inn]!

rolled a lucky pair of dice / ended up in paradise / landed on a snake's eyes, took a bite and ended up bleeding [FOUNTAIN] )

the truth is, all those angels started acting the same [INN] )
notsocommon: (slightly victorian)
[personal profile] notsocommon
WHO: Helen Magnus
WHERE: hospital, schoolhouse, outside the butchers, Inn
WHEN: 7 February - 14 February

i. fixed law of gravity

Thanks to the work done by Rory, the hospital was something approaching hospitable. There were beds inside it, yes, but Helen wasn't certain that the narrow sickbays could really be considered proper beds or not. It was more of a triage station, really, or a field hospital to her modern standards and she was reminded yet again of all the medicine she'd practiced during the two great wars; there was little that rattled the nerves quite as much as hearing and feeling the vibrations of shells and mortar just outside one's door while trying to heal the sick and make them comfortable.

Helen could do without ever seeing another war.

Still, it was the nature of human beings to fight and while there hadn't been many quarrels here in this place, Helen wasn't naive enough to believe that it would always be so calm or that their threats would always come in easy to handle packages. The injuries this month were proof enough of that. No one had been hurt terribly as of yet but she was certain it was not far off, considering the lightning only increased in frequency as days passed.

Currently, she was in the midst of cataloging her meager supplies with which to treat burns. There were bandages, there were poultices and her very precious store of penicillin. She had five syringes, prepared if she should have to use them, and there was no reason to believe she'd ever get more. Their captors had been gracious enough to give her the medicine once. She wouldn't be the one to waste it.

She was ripping linens at the moment in order to make more bandages and hoped that she'd never have occasion to use quite as many as she'd made.

ii. so simple a beginning

After putting in a long day of scouring the woods for more herbs and dodging lightning where she could, Helen found herself in the Inn for a cup of her preciously-hoarded coffee and a bite to eat. She'd been grateful that there was food already cooked when she'd arrived at the kitchens and made a note to bring more berries and herbs to replenish Kate's stores from time to time. It was what she could do to help, after all, and while she could cook she was also content to eat the cooking of others.

She had a bowl of stew balanced on one knee and a mug of coffee in the other as she sat by the fire, lost in reflection and memory. There had been disappearances of late, a rash of them, and she wondered what that meant. Their captors never seemed to announce why they did things and she supposed it was futile to assume they'd start doing it now. Once she'd finished eating, she pulled out her notes from Annie and Finnick's findings, trying to make sense of the new information they'd discovered.

She wound up moving from the chair to the floor and when that didn't give her enough room, she decided to take the lot of her work over to the schoolhouse in order to avail herself of the slates inside there. She took care not to erase anything already on the chalkboards, not wanting to ruin someone else's work, but took up a piece of it herself and started trying to make sense of the muddled equations and endless lines of text.

"It doesn't bloody make sense she exclaimed in frustration, banging a closed fist in an uncharacteristic fit of pique. Even her own mind had been tested by this and if she couldn't figure it out, what hope did she have of ever finding a way back home? How could she provide insight and understanding to the people here if she couldn't make heads of tails with what she'd been presented? She sank down at one of the desks, sitting hard enough to send it flying a few inches.


iii. endless forms most beautiful

Having given up on the mystery of the pods for the time being, Helen decided to make herself useful and was tending a hot fire and a veritable cauldron of soap. The butcher's was the only place where she had the equipment to render fat properly and while it was smelly, disgusting work, the end result was quite nice. It reminded her of being a girl, making soaps and things by hand and once she had the soda ash added to the fat, she could start the process of turning the lot of it into soap.

This batch was going to be scented with lemon, one of the precious essential oils she'd been gifted, and it lent the air a fresh, clean scent. It was something neutral, something that simply smelled of clean and she hoped that the others in the village would agree with that assessment. If not, they were free to make their own soap, she supposed, though she was the only one who seemed to make any in any real quantity.

The next batch was blood orange and the final, at the end of the day, ended up scented with lavender. Once she'd poured it into the crude molds she'd crafted of wood she covered it with towels to let it cure. Later, after it'd set up, she'd slice it into thick bars but for now it would simply have to set. There were more than a few lye burns on her hands once she'd finished for the evening and she wondered if the powers that be would gift her a set of proper gloves. They would have more than one use. Of that, she was absolutely certain.
andrend: (04 I hear something more)
[personal profile] andrend
WHO: Kylo Ren
WHERE: Just outside the Inn
WHEN: February 1st
OPEN TO: All; Threadjack style
WARNINGS: None other than that this is really long.

The fact that daily meals not only existed, but seemed to do so in spite of snow, earthquakes, and auroras in the sky, was one of a few consistently positive glimmers of hope for the village and its inhabitants. It also had the benefit of drawing a large number of those same inhabitants to one predictable location more often than not. For Ren, that was normally a reason to avoid the inn in the hours after dawn and before dusk. However, with his mind on the conversations he had had with Sansa and Veronica, and the missing beast presumably still roaming somewhere out in the canyon, Ren knew he couldn't keep approaching the problem the way he had been, previously.

Veronica's advice still lingered in his mind fresh enough after a month of thought to have him trying something new. He waited for a good number of people to enter the inn before doing so himself, and asked, with a softened tone and a calm voice, if people could spare a moment when they finished to have a discussion.

He had missed the most recent meeting, entrenched as he had been in his training. It had been another lost opportunity, and he wanted no more of those. This was as good of a chance as any, and he was taking action before action could be taken from him.

With his request submitted, he left the inn and borrowed a sturdy crate from outside one of the unused buildings. He took a seat on it, just outside the front of the inn, during the meal. Most people came and went through the doors, and it gave him a good position without worrying about the crowding of the growing village's size packed inside one space.

When enough people decided to come out and take part, he stood back up, his long hair loosely pulled back, and the scar the cut across his face and down his arm far more visible for it. He looked around at the faces gathered, some familiar, others new, and straightened his back, standing taller and more assured. He needed people to trust him, or at least trust that what he had to say might be important. But he could not be harsh, he could not demand. He had to coax reason out, and the only way to do so was to offer his ideas as ideas, and nothing more.

"A lot has happened in this canyon. Some of you have been here for far more of it than I have. There have been hazards, storms, unusual discoveries, and violent creatures. People come and go, almost always without the slightest inclination as to how or why. I myself have gone and returned, and I remember nothing of it." He paused there, one hand holding onto the metal staff he had been using so long now it had become an extension of him. He rested it on the ground like a cane now, using it to keep himself grounded.

"This canyon is unpredictable. The dangers and threats that may face us in the future can not be anticipated wholly, and there is no way of knowing who among us will still be around to see them. But one thing is clear. I do not believe our captors have ever intended anything positive of this place. They observe, and they prevent our escape. They take our strength, our possessions, our memories," He hesitates a moment, his grip tightening on the staff, his voice sharper for a moment before settling back to an even tone. "And they toy with us. We have no idea who they are, what their true intentions may be, or how they came to bring us here, only that for now we are trapped here, together."

He looks over the group that has gathered, a frown crossing his face, his brows furrowed a moment before smoothing over. He has to choose his words carefully, and for the sometimes reckless young man, it isn't easy not to dive straight in.

"I think it's time we discuss whether or not this place needs more than the loose assortment of tasks and common, repeated actions it has as it currently stands. I believe we need a leadership in place. A council. With how unpredictable this place has proven to be, no one person can or should be trusted with that task but more dangers will come, we will face more disasters, more attacks that we can not see coming. We can not assume that we will always have the luxury of waiting until after the fact to react."

He breathes, slow and deep, and tries to find the words again, searching for the right phrasing, the right voice.

"I think a council is something we should consider. A group of people to share the burden of making tough calls or assigning tasks when things go wrong, or when something needs to get done. It will not work, however, if disagreement runs rampant underneath it. That's why I came here. At the very least, it should be discussed. If the majority is against it, I will drop the matter, but if we do not at least have this conversation, I do not think this village will last many disasters before the fragile organization the structure of it is currently built on collapses and falls apart."

Having said his piece, Ren stepped aside, and offered the area he had been speaking from to anyone who might choose to use it.

[This is a meeting post open to threadjacking, interruptions, opinions, and the like. If your character has anything to say, let them do so. I'll drop a secondary comment below for Ren specifically, otherwise go wild and respond to anyone you like or start your own thing. It's intended to be an IC discoure over whether or not the village needs some form of leadership, but any actual organizing of a leadership is not intended or planned to be formed from this meeting.]

01 🌠

30 Jan 2017 11:08 pm
scrounged: (Default)
[personal profile] scrounged
WHO: Rey
WHERE: The fountain and the forest
WHEN: January 30th
OPEN TO: Anyone and everyone!
WARNINGS: Near-drowning on arrival, but otherwise none inherent

a) The fountain
Rey had always dreamed of the ocean, and it was only when she finally arrived on Ahch-To that the island and the sea became real to her, the smell of the salt and the sound of the waves crashing around her the second she stepped out of the Falcon bringing the water to vivid life. The one thing she'd never anticipated, however, was the feeling of being under that water, as there hadn't been enough on Jakku to even paddle in. As she flails around now, her body feeling light but sluggish, her chest tightening with her panic, she assumes she must have somehow fallen, perhaps having lost her footing from the steep incline of the island to the waters below. But she doesn't remember falling: one moment she'd been stood there, hand outstretched, offering Luke the saber he'd lost so long ago, and as quick as blinking she was underwater, thrashing and kicking and hoping that some survival instinct would help her propel herself the surface.

When she manages to grip the rim of the fountain she pulls herself up, rolling her body over until she's safely on the ground, coughing and sputtering as she tries to clear the water from her lungs. As she gathers herself together she stares around her in bewilderment, taking in the trees and the buildings and the strange white stuff that covers the ground. It's only when she gets her breath back that she realises she's shivering with the cold, her teeth chattering, and it's with difficulty that she manages to pull herself to her feet.

b) The forest
At any other time she'd stop and marvel at the trees, but right now Rey needs to think practically. She'd seen a number of buildings on her way into the woods, but many of them looked like private residences and she didn't feel right assuming that she could stay in one - just for the night, just until she's figured out a way out of here, she tells herself. Her priorities are finding a weapon, starting a fire, and getting some sort of shelter, and the forest seems like a good answer to all of those. She figures she can probably trade something from her pack - the strange looking hat with the flame embroidered on it, perhaps - for something to light a fire with, but before that she needs to make sure she's not wandering around with no means of defending herself.

It takes a few minutes for her to find a branch of the right length, and when she does find one that she thinks will do, she leans her whole weight against it to snap it from the tree. Leaning against the trunk, she begins to strip the branch of smaller twigs and leaves to make herself a rudimentary staff.
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. ]
ottimismo: (Default)
[personal profile] ottimismo
WHO: Sonny Carisi
WHERE: The Fountain, the Inn, House Number 7, House Number 24 (the Church-in-progress), and in-between
WHEN: January 17th
OPEN TO: Everyone!
WARNINGS: Religion? Will update as needed.

i will get down on my knees and i will pray )
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.


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