Credits & Style Info

twistedjudge: (entrances are important after all)
[personal profile] twistedjudge
WHO: Oerba Yun Fang
WHERE: Fountain, then wandering
WHEN: June 24, early morning then later in the day
OPEN TO: Jax, then anyone
WARNINGS: Mild violence, partial nudity (okay almost complete nudity), probably mentions of a crappy past? Look this could go a lot of ways



( Fountain, for Jax )

It all changes in an instant - all the pain, all the agony, all the determination to get through the pink hell and confront the being that sentenced them and everyone around them to a horrible death, all of it is gone. Her family around her, their final goal in mind, spear in hand, the sense that this war would at least be finished even if everything wasn't happily resolved-

And then nothing but water, surrounding her, choking off her breath and causing her to react on instinct, kicking her body into a sharp line and surging up before she can swallow any of it. With no idea how such a change had come about, the only thing she could do was get out of this situation, despite the fabric clinging to her (where are her clothes?!) and the weight on her feet and back-

It's a small, flooded pit she's somehow in, and Fang surges out of the water gasping for air and soaked through, not immediately noticing any of the surroundings other than not covered in enemies and grabbing for the stone rim of the fountain, forcing herself to come into focus again because she knows all too well that dropping that wariness will spell death for her and everyone around her.


( Behind House 41 then Wandering, Open )

After leaving behind that idiot, Fang runs west and ducks behind what appears to be an unused house to stop and take stock of the situation. Everything is completely turned around from what she was mentally prepared for, and she needs to stop and collect herself before she does anything she'll regret. Again. First thing is to rid herself of the sopping wet clothing - not the most ridiculous thing she's ever seen, but a pain to deal with right now when there's other things she has to be focusing on, so off it goes. The red scrubs hit the back stoop of the house with wet smacks, leaving Fang standing there just in her underwear and the boots, which are heavy and cumbersome but are all she has. Not caring about her lack of undress, she crouches next to the stoop to rip open the bag (she does find the zipper) and finds it full of things that could possibly be useful, but most of it not immediately what she needs. The long johns get used as a towel and stuffed back in, followed by the scrubs - what she'll do with them, she has no idea, but maybe they'll be worth carrying around - but poke around as she might, she can't find any weapons, not even a dinky little dagger.

So, next step: weapon. If the best she can do is a tree branch, then that's what she's getting, and it's easy enough to wrench a low-lying one off a nearby tree and quickly snap off the little branchlets growing along it. It's not her spear, but it'll do in a pinch.

Before she sets out, she does actually pull off the boots and wet socks, stuffing the socks into the bag with the rest of the mess someone decided to drop on her and carrying the boots by the laces. With how heavy they are, they'll probably make a decent projectile weapon if she needs to use them as such, and her feet are tough enough to handle going barefoot on relatively even ground like this. Once she's finally ready, Fang hikes the back up on her left shoulder, makes sure of the grip of her branch with her right, and begins to circle the buildings she can see in counter-clockwise movement so she can try and figure out exactly what the hell is going on.
theluckygirl: (▲ nursing)
[personal profile] theluckygirl
WHO: Claire Temple
WHERE: Home, inn, hospital, then out in the boonies
WHEN: June 22nd to end of 25th (for Power Surge)
OPEN TO: All (but please note what day you'll be tagging Claire in the subject header)
WARNINGS: None really, but will update


[ 1st Day - Need one ]

Waking up that morning wasn't anything different than it used to be. Claire kept strictly to her routine, as most did in the village. She did a bit of yoga, then bathed and dressed and headed over to the inn to get some breakfast before checking in at the hospital. But before even leaving the quaint little house that she shared with Karen, a dull pain started at the top of her abdomen, which did catch her attention. It wasn't a normal pain, but one she chalked up to simply being more hungry than usual.

Only once she got to the inn and made some coffee, the pain amplified double what it was and within minutes tripled until Claire was doubled over in the dining room, arms wrapped around her with her forehead pressed down on the table. The nurse in her cancelled out what her symptoms could be, though it wasn't a radiating pain. It was constant. By the time she forced herself to get up, Claire was almost unable to walk, making it only as far as the inn doors before sliding to the floor.

[ 2nd Day - Hospital OTA ]

Without knowing what was exactly wrong, Claire stayed in a bed at the hospital and did as she was told. The pain was still severe and rendered the nurse-now-patient in an agony she never felt before. So when she wasn't staring at walls or wishing for a miracle to stop the pain, she was hoping someone would just put her out of her misery.

[ 3rd Day - Home (Evening) - OTA ]

Thankfully, by mid-morning, the pain began to dissipate and Claire went home where she continued to take it easy. The experience left her exhausted, but not so much to the point where she slept the day away.

Anyone passing by might find her on the porch with a cup of tea, but looking pretty well otherwise.
iwasrussian: (Default)
[personal profile] iwasrussian
WHO: Natasha Romanoff
WHERE: Fountain, woods, inn
WHEN: May 29th
OPEN TO: All
WARNINGS: Violence, spoilers for Infinity War

fountain & woods

Natasha isn't sure when exactly it happened, but it's an uncomfortable shift that gives her barely the time to notice that it's even happening. One moment she was looking over Steve's shoulder, his hand touching the ground where his best friend was and in a blink after that, moments after coming to it was realized she was underwater.

She acts fast, pushing herself to the surface while noticing certain things that weren't what they were what they seemed to be moments earlier. Different clothes, a bag on her back and something around her wrist. None of it made any sense and while the ex-spy was able to put that much together, as soon as she emerged and took a look around, there was no quick understanding as to where she was.

Slowly, she lifts herself out without much of a sound and instead of stay there to go through the bag and investigate the device on her wrist, Natasha is off to find the person who dropped her in the fountain in the first place. They couldn't have gotten far.

Taking to the woods, Natasha sticks to hiding for the first little while. Both looking for familiar faces and anyone that appears to be in charge.

inn

None of it makes any sense, nor has it sunk in that any of it's real. The concept is.. well, believable, given what she's just come from. But that's something she'll need to process later.

A walk turned into arriving at the inn; a place she was told had food and drink. She didn't have much of an appetite, but she was rather hoping for a drink.
beallmysins: (061)
[personal profile] beallmysins
WHO: Jax Teller
WHERE: foothills North of 6I
WHEN: 10 May
OPEN TO: Karen Page
WARNINGS: Jax is his own warning.


*** )
sixthiteration: (Default)
[personal profile] sixthiteration
WHERE: 6I Inn > Outside
WHEN: May 2, beginning late morning
OPEN TO: All - Mingle
WARNINGS: Badger violence?
NOTES: DETAILS | ASSIGNMENTS
Anyone may jump in as long as they don't step on the assigned roles!

The day began as innocuously as any number of others in the village: The roosters crowed, the sun slid lazily over the horizon, and the local denizens went about the typical steps of their day. As the morning wears on, more and more of them make their way to the Inn — Several to assist in the preparation and serving of the daily community lunch, some simply early birds looking to get in ahead of the rush.

It all seems entirely normal, or at least as normal as any day gets in a place like this. Unfortunately, unwelcome visitors don't always come with a warning, and this one doesn't even bother to knock.
theluckygirl: (▲ kindly)
[personal profile] theluckygirl
WHO: Claire Temple
WHERE: By her and Karen's place (House #3) and later the Inn
WHEN: March 17
OPEN TO: All
WARNINGS: Baby moose Cuteness

Though it wasn't quite spring, Claire was seeing the beginnings of it starting in and around the village. Sprigs of green were starting to pop out from under the snow and the air took on a fresh smell during the day. But when Claire opens her door and steps out with a smile, it's pretty clear that whatever funk she was in is probably over and done with. She owes that to a few people for their support and shoulder and when she gets a chance, she had plans to find a way to show her appreciation.

Until then, it was life as usual and Claire had been neglecting her normal schedule for too long.

Before she even left the porch, something to the right caught her attention before two more things pulled her eyes over. There, walking towards her was Bub, his new lady that she and Clint named Babs and an adorable little addition that made Claire smile bigger than she had since long before arriving.

Now, most would likely be worried that Dad would be more than a little protective, though it almost seemed they were coming over so he could show off his offspring. Claire was careful regardless and sat up on the top step to show she was no threat.

"I'm impressed, Bub." she spoke, not at all worried how crazy that made her look. Claire laughed. "You didn't waste a minute, did you?"

And for the next little while, Claire lowered down each step until she was able to stretch out a hand to the little one. By the looks of it, he wasn't more than a week or two old. But her expertise was people, not animals and might have been off.

"Hey, Bud," she smiled, glancing up from the young moose to see someone lingering nearby.
3ofswords: (in light; looking distant)
[personal profile] 3ofswords
WHO: Kira Akiyama
WHERE: The Inn
WHEN: Early January
OPEN TO: All (up to 4)
WARNINGS: Very mild description of quarantine/emergency zones.

There had been electricity in Manhattan, the entire time. The supply companies ran all the way up into Canada, and apparently no one had the idea of shutting it all off for the quarantine. Kira hadn't really thought about the people left behind, because--well, they'd been left behind. He'd assumed it was for the sake of all the military sent in. He'd assumed it was so they could keep testing blood samples and getting a leg up on a cure, in case the river didn't contain the problem.

Some sections lost power--his apartment hadn't been able to run anything--but those were problems on the ground. Cut wires, downed poles. If you wandered all the way up to Times Square, there were shot-out billboards and flickering screens, but enough of them still ran. The Christmas lights in the streets had never gone out.

He hasn't been so long without it that he thinks anything of walking into the inn's kitchen at first, wandering past an antiquated fridge into the pantry. It's when he goes to start up the stove after a long, cold night, that he realizes the boxy thing's been replaced. There are more burners, odd little boxes on one side, and it stands on legs like a desk, a cord visible along the wall beneath. There are more dials than he can count things to heat up, and he turns them gingerly, as if it might simply explode.

It doesn't, but it takes some time to feel one of the burners heat up. Setting all the dials back, he pokes his head in the ovens, tries and fails to determine how far behind the counter the cord goes, and finally blinks a little more awake at the boxy fridge by the pantry.

That takes a little more poking. It isn't any colder than the room inside, and unlike the fridges at home, the doors don't span the entire length. There are overhead vents that sit silent while he examines it, until he finds the switch at the back, flipping it all the way around. They hiss and rattle to life, filling the kitchen with heavy white noise.

"What the fuck," he wonders softly. Hunting the space doesn't reveal any more new appliances, but he does find a switch near the door. When he flips it, the bulbs around the room fill the corners the morning sun doesn't reach with soft light, and he wonders how far it goes.

Abandoning breakfast, he starts wandering the rest of the inn, flipping switches in each room to watch the lights come on.

[The Inn has electricity! Lights, stove, fridge--come find Kira fussing with the appliances or flipping lights on and off like a child.]
3ofswords: (profile in sun; chin up)
[personal profile] 3ofswords
WHO: Kira Akiyama
WHERE: Fountain, Village
WHEN: November 3rd and later
OPEN TO: OTA with closed starters
WARNINGS: Gunshot wound and recovery description



Arrival )


Inn (OTA)

Whatever he does or doesn’t believe about this place, he’s keeping his mouth shut until he has the strength to deal with it. So far no one’s walked him by the wall of strung up cops or offered him jerky of questionable origin—he wants to believe this is some waypoint, some remote safe haven in upstate New York they were transported to while he was unconscious. But if it is, everyone’s gone off the fucking rocker.

He’s never been here before. Certainly not as recently as three days ago. The gap in his memory, between getting shot and Ty’s sickbed—that doesn’t contain a fucking year.

It itches him to move, even as his body protests. Wrapping a blanket tighter around himself, he moves away from the fire, starting to explore the lower floor of the inn. The blackboard waylays him for awhile, especially finding his name at the top of it. A house description, a—man or woman’s name, he can’t really tell. Rook, in the same location. Eleven months. Fuck.

Wandering away from it, he roots around at the bar, finding nothing for his nerves. The kitchen is next, the fire banked low this late. The dim lighting is something he’s used to, trying to avoid being seen in the dark. When he bangs into a chair despite all his practice, he muffles a curse into the blanket folded over his hand, held close.

The hardest part of this, inability to locate alcohol notwithstanding, is this: feeling half blind and deaf to the world. No warnings, no sense of the people around him. Everything he used to keep himself safe stripped away. Everything that would tell him if these people were lying.

He hopes they’re lying about the booze, at least, as he presses onward to start going through the cabinets.


House 39 (Bodhi)

It takes another couple of days before he’s recovered enough to brave the cold. A closet upstairs outfits him with sweaters and coats, and he manages to find the brick house he supposedly cleaned out—which hits him with the first piece of evidence that he might have existed here. The maps, carefully stacked by the linens, bear his handwriting, if not his actual cartography skills.

He loses several more hours exploring the space, finding touches of occupation. Trinkets in a bedside table, a pack of clothes that don’t—look or feel like his, but there’s a box in the closet that has his name fixed to it on a tag.

Kira Akiyama.

His full name, scraps of wrapping paper inside. From a December past? How many winters has he lived in the last four months?

Finding gloves and a pair of jeans, he layers himself again for the cold, and starts the trek across the village to the house marked on his hand-drawn map. Bodhi might be there, with the rest of their things. With answers of some kind, further proof that he’s existed here, or proof that this is an elaborate delusion.

He assumes it isn’t the burnt out husk of a house lightly dampened by snow, and climbs the porch of the other where the path ends. It’s an odd thing, knocking on a door you supposedly own, but he does it all the same. The first thing he hears is a dog’s low bark, rising with the scrape of claws on wood. Then the call of a bird, a clatter at the window that draws his eye—is that a crow?

Then, footsteps, and all he can do is square up and stare at the door.


[Kira's been canon updated as well as reset; he now comes from 3 days later than his first arrival, with knowledge that he did save his boyfriend and a healing graze wound to the side of his head.]
beallmysins: (Default)
[personal profile] beallmysins
WHO: Jax Teller
WHERE: porch of the 6I inn
WHEN: 25 October - mid afternoon
OPEN TO: All
WARNINGS: cursing, lbr



Hey, Abel. It's been a little while since I wrote to you so I wanted to sit down and tell you what's going on in this fucked up crazy prison I'm in. I miss you. You need to take care of Thomas and your mom, all right? I know I tell you that every time but I'm gonna keep writing it just to make sure it happens.

Snowed here the other day. It's getting cooler here but I don't have any idea of what the date is or shit like that. It's not like the real world, this place, and the longer I'm here the more it feels like I'm losing touch with what's real and what I can see and touch. It hadn't been that cold though, before, so the snow kind of came as a shock - seems to have melted, though.

Snow reminds me of Tahoe or up in Oregon where Gemma's people are from. It's not something we're ever gonna see in Charming, not unless something crazy happens. I'll take you kids skiing sometime when we get away. We're gonna get away someday, you know. Your mom's been after me to make that happen and I...


The wind catches then and the sheets come flying out of Jax's notebook, scattering the letter and some of the previous ones out across the porch and into the street in front of the inn. He scrambles to gather them up before they get trampled on and muddy because fuck if he's letting his only connection to his kids go and get ruined.

Is this what happened to his old man when he wrote his letters? Did John Teller write letters on scraps of paper on blustery fall days and hope that someday he was going to get to read them to his son? Jax has no fucking idea. There's so much shit he's finding out about his father after the fact that makes the hazy, golden childhood image of him tarnish a bit. He's afraid that's gonna be what happens with Abel and Thomas, that they'll read his letters and hear stories about him and think of him as some asshole and not as a hero like a father ought to be.

Jax pushes that down for the moment and focuses on grabbing up as much of the paper as he can, trying to keep his words and his tether to Charming and the real fucking world from getting soaked up with the mud and gloom of this place. Even if the snow's melted now and the leaves are pretty shades of red and gold he doesn't want to fucking be here.

"I hate this fucking place," he grumbles, stuffing bits of the letter back into the binding of the notebook.
guessihavelostcount: (98. biting her lip uncertainly)
[personal profile] guessihavelostcount
WHO: Claire Bennet
WHERE: Around the inn
WHEN: Oct 14
OPEN TO: ALL
WARNINGS: will update if needed



Claire wasn't sure when exactly it had happened since it was just one of those things that she didn't always pay attention to. It wasn't that she took it for granted but it was just kind of natural to think that one's shadow would always be there in some way. Except for the fact that Claire's wasn't.

At first, she just sort of glanced down, didn't see it and continued on. At least for a couple steps until she was suddenly stopping dead and looking down again. Then she was turning in a circle trying to see if maybe she just wasn't looking in the right spot for it. When she didn't see it, she glanced at the sky and then back down again as the feeling of unease started to creep up her spine. It wasn't such a bad thing but it made her feel weird.

Maybe it was just her eyes playing tricks on her?

Glancing up when she spied someone walking close, she waved her hand to catch their attention before she pointed at the ground. "This is going to sound kind of crazy but can you see my shadow?"
bit_fairytale: (conquer)
[personal profile] bit_fairytale
WHO: Amy Pond
WHERE: Border of 7I
WHEN: September 24th / 25th
OPEN TO: OTA / Locked Log to Jax
WARNINGS: n/a


OTA

The little mirror village has been Amy's solace and quiet place ever since Rory vanished. She's not saying the earth opened up and gave her the Scottish female equivalent of a mancave, but she's also not-not-saying that. It's quiet, there's thankfully barely any people, and there's been peaches to keep her from starving, not to mention that snagging a peach is a thousand times easier than trying to hunt rabbit and then deal with all the blood and the bones and the gross parts of rabbits that Amy doesn't want to think about.

It's perfect, right up until the stupid foxes come along.

At first, it's just that Amy notices a lot of them are around. It's not too strange and since she's not exactly kicking off a fox hunt, she doesn't care. Then, they start to get involved around her. The peaches she picks and sets on the ground go missing. Flattened, gone, or ruined, but they're missing. Seeing as no one else seems to be around, she figures that it has to be the stupid animals, but she can live with it.

What she can't live with is that they seem determined to kick up their levels of mischief when Amy keeps going back. She's taken off her shoes to get comfortable and read one of the books she'd brought over with her (squinting more than she likes, which just makes her wish she had her reading glasses with her), when sh hears a faint rustling sound nearby.

Then, when Amy clocks it for what it is, her eyes widen with alarm. "Don't," she warns the furry little thing, who currently has one of Amy's boots in its mouth. "No, you...! Idiot fox!" she snaps when the thing takes that as a sign to run away. It's got a heavy boot in its mouth, she ought to be able to keep up, but the stupid thing is fast and Amy doesn't have any shoes on. Glancing back to the other, she lets out a sharp, "Oi!" of anger when she sees another fox is making good on getting both that boot and the book.

That's it, Amy decides. Fox hunts are back in style. "If you don't drop that boot," she shouts at the fox, one of them, who cares which one, "I'm gonna wear you for a hat and gloves!"

For Jax

"Hey!" she shouts at the furry thing that's currently making off with the bottom leg of her trousers. It's not cold yet, but she's fairly sure that one long leg and one shorts leg isn't the height of fashion anywhere in the world, not to mention that Amy has stubbornly decided that instead of being mature and calm about it, she's going to go chase after a stupid fox like a maniac, marching right into a fight with one of mother nature's creatures.

This can't go wrong, right?

She's closer than ever to getting her pant-leg back because she's managed to corner the fox into one of the little nooks and crannies, crouching over to try and approach quietly like this is some easily spooked alien creature and not the devil's own little dog-cat pets. She's going to time her moment right, she's going to make it happen, except when she does lunge forward for the fox, it darts out, her scrubs-pant-leg flapping in its mouth, leaving Amy flat on the ground, dusty and dirty and hating her life.

Instead of getting up right away, she flops into her hands, chin pressed stubbornly there.

"Guess I'm spending winter in half-shorts," she mutters sarcastically, unless she can actually catch up to one of the stupid things and skin it for leggings, that is.
girlwednesday: (Sidelook)
[personal profile] girlwednesday
WHO: Felicity Smoak
WHERE: The Village
WHEN: Sept 8-9
OPEN TO: Everyone in the village
WARNINGS: There should be none



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

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

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

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

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


[OOC: Feel free to run into Felicity anywhere your character might be!]
theintercessor: (Default)
[personal profile] theintercessor
WHO: Jude Sullivan
WHERE: House 19; House 10; The Inn
WHEN: Early August, morning to evening
OPEN TO: Credence, Jax, and Samantha (see comment starters)
WARNINGS: May contain references to epilepsy symptoms


The journals have taken some doing, gathering or making enough materials, deciding how to put them together. They’re nothing as clean as the pads he picked up from the piles of supplies in the Hall, but they’re functional. The paper takes his pencils, the binding holds when he opens and closes the covers, folds open pages.

For how long, he can’t be sure, but it’s not like anyone’s buying the things from him.

After a couple of dry afternoons on his porch--after getting the house sorted; after staking the sheets into the yard and finding a few more window screens on houses too far gone to matter to anyone; after boiling every bit of leaf litter and shredded cloth as he could--Jude has three journals to show for it. They’re thick with hand-torn pages, enclosed in old encyclopedia covers recovered from the ruins of the school, and bound with a combination of rubber tree sap and braided grass. He’d had to punch the holes with a skewer from the kitchen, and they’re still a little rough at the edges--all of it’s a bit rough at the edges, but he kind of likes that about them.

Now he just has to track down the people they belong to.
chosenbytheocean: (I cant leave you)
[personal profile] chosenbytheocean
WHO: Moana
WHERE: 7I – Ocean
WHEN: August 3rd
OPEN TO: EVERYONE
WARNINGS: None



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.
babyhunter: (Default)
[personal profile] babyhunter
WHO: Clary Fray
WHERE: Fountain & Village & River
WHEN: August 1st to August 6th
OPEN TO: EVERYONE
WARNINGS: Drowning? (Note: Scrub color is black.)



Fountain: Arrival [Aug 1]

Clary inhaled, feeling a cool rush of water fill her lungs. Her chest burned while panic tightly constricted around her heart. She flailed wildly in the water, kicking her arms and legs out in a futile effort to swim. The water stung her eyes when she tried to open them. Clary had always hated opening her eyes underwater but she needed to see.

'I need to breathe! She thought, forcing herself to calm down enough to escape a rather pathetic watery death. After everything she's been through, she's not going to have 'death by water' on her tombstone. Clary saw a blurry smudge of light in the distance and swam towards it.

She broke the surface of the water, coughing and gasping for air. Bright orange hair plastered to her cheeks and neck as she made her way to the fountain's ledge.

It was only when she was pulling herself over the edge of the fountain that she felt the weight of the pack on her back. A groan of complaint vibrated through her torso, even as she managed to tumble herself and the backpack onto the pavement. Clary was laying on her back. The backpack was a surprisingly comfortable pillow though that might have just been in comparison to the water. The sun shined pleasantly in the sky, warming her limbs and face.

Clary decided that it wasn't worth getting up. She'd happily lay there until someone told her to move. Maybe she was in central park? That's the only place that she can think of with a fountain. Either way, Clary knew that someone would find her and she'd sort it out then.


Around the 6I Village [Aug 2-4]

Clary really didn't know what to think of this place. She had named the village Salem in her mind, the broken buildings and dreary feeling reminded her of a town where hundreds of girls burned at the stake. It probably wasn't the best name but the village was surprisingly less daunting with a name attached to it.

She wound her way through the houses, inspecting the ones that were broken and then knocking at the homes that looked like someone lived there. If no one replied, she'd peak inside to see what was there. Clary was naturally curious and not at all shy or hindered by the unknown. This wasn't nearly as scary as trying to get Simon out of the Hotel Dumort.

Clary would take the time to stop and stare at the houses or setting around her. She tried to figure out how she'd draw it: what colors she would use or how certain objects might appear out of focus. At the end of each day, she'd find herself at the inn, usually hungry and sitting at the bar like a ghost might come and take her order.

She was new at this whole survival thing and Brooklyn had pizza. She really missed pizza.


At the River [Aug 5]

Clary was both happy and sad to see Izzy in the village with her. She was happy to see her friend and to know that she wasn't alone but it also made her think about home. How was her mother doing? And Simon? What about Jace? She wondered if any of them missed her. She didn't particularly worry about Alec missing her; he was with Magnus and starting towards his happiness.

She missed her sketchbook. It gave her the ability to get all of her worries out of her head and onto a piece of paper. Without it, her thoughts jumbled together in a messy knot that she didn't know how to untangle. A groan pulled from Clary's lips as she took a seat near the water's edge. She watched the waves for a few seconds before pulling off her scrubs and jumping in.

Clary hadn't been in water since almost drowning in the fountain a few days before and as much as she wanted to avoid it, she felt gross. She had never gone this long without a shower. After drenching herself in water, she floated lazily on the surface of the river.

"This place feels too much like the Twilight Zone." She mumbled to no one in particular.


The Breach Between 6I and 7I: Small Earthquake [Aug 6]

Clary first heard about the mysterious second village at the inn, when she had eavesdropped on two people discussing their plans to cross the breach. She hadn't asked about it then but she couldn't stop thinking of the possibilities that lay on the other side of the ridge. Peeked by her curiosity and her ever-rampant thoughts, Clary decided to head to the breach to check it out for herself.

She wasn't completely unfamiliar with bouldering but the path was not as clear as she thought it would be. She took careful steps over small rocks and then slipping between larger boulders that stood like giants in the path.

Clary was halfway through the breach when the earth began to shake. She'd gotten used to the small tremors over the last few days but she hadn't been standing in a small crevasse in the ground back then. A surprised scream tore from her throat as she ran back the way she had come. Peddles and rocks loosened from above her, falling on her head like rain drops falling from the sky.

She ran out of the breach, stumbling to the ground as the earthquake ended. Clary's head was shaking as she tried to regain her balance. She tasted blood in her mouth and felt a soft sting along her cheek. If she had managed to get out of that with a bloody lip and a few thin cuts then she was happy.

"Okay. Maybe I won't go that way." Clary was talking to the rocks and seriously hoping that they could feel her displeasure.
beallmysins: (Default)
[personal profile] beallmysins
WHO: Jax Teller
WHERE: House #10, Inn, river
WHEN: 1 July - 9 July
OPEN TO: all
WARNINGS: Jax is his own warning. Language, for sure. Probably going to be sex eventually, knowing him.



i. doin' the best i can (house 10, 1 july)

Jax is on the roof when the ground starts shaking. Being from California, he's no stranger to earthquakes, though they're a lot worse down south than in the valley where he's from. Still, he's familiar enough with them to know he doesn't want to be on a fucking roof repairing shingles when one hits and as soon as he feels the first waves, he scrambles down as fast as he can. He's quick but he's not quick enough to escape harm - he scrapes his shin and bangs the ribs on the same side he'd injured several weeks ago.

Fuck, he hisses, hitting the ground and heading to clear ground as fast as he can. The earthquake isn't anything they can control but he knows the best place to be is as far away from structures as he can get and just wait it out. There'll be aftershocks but those won't be as bad as the initial - this is always the worst part.

It's just a few minutes, all told, but it feels like hours. The world seems to stop when the earth starts to move and when it ceases, the sky opens up and rain begins to fall. It's been dry for weeks and the sun's been all fucked up so the rain is a welcome sight, steam rising up from the ground from just how goddamn hot it'd been before the quake.

Jax limps his way back toward the town, favoring his right leg and trying to keep from slipping on dirt paths that are rapidly becoming mud because he's got to have a drink and a doctor and he thinks the drink could replace the doctor if it's a good enough drink.

ii. and when it's time for leavin' (inn, 2 July - 9 July)

One of the things that Jax has in abundance is the ability to do labor and now that there's houses damaged from the earthquake, he's got something worth trading. He's not a jack of all trades like Moana but he makes do with what he has and if they've got the tools, he's got the strong back and the know how to do most things that a house needs.

The Inn is the best place to go and see if someone needs work so he hauls his ass up there every morning for breakfast and to offer his services. Now that the days and nights are actually separate and not one long stretch of sunlight that only changes in hue from yellow to red he's feeling a lot better than he has in a month or so; that never-setting sun shit had been getting old and he's happy to see the rain and the sun and the twinkling of the stars and moon at night. It's simple shit, yes, but it's a sign that this place is returning to some sort of normal.

The first two days he parks at the Inn, he doesn't have much to do. It's pouring rain and there's no way he can get anything done when he can't see his hand in front of his face. By the third day, though, not only has the sun come back but it's not so goddamn hot and he thinks he can get a real start on helping get some of the houses back into working order. There's plenty of things he can do that others might not be able to and he knows there's shit that other people are able to do that he can't; Moana's living proof of that.

He's taken to sitting out on the front porch of the Inn when the weather's good, making his offer for labor as people walk in and out.

iii. a good time down on the bayou (river, 4 July - 9 July)

After a long day of fixing roofs and figuring out how best to repair collapsed porches, Jax likes to bathe off down in the river. The days of rain have brought it up a little and it looks a lot better than it had a few weeks ago even though it still needs some more rain to get back up to the levels it'd been before the drought. The water's cool here and flows in a way the water up at the waterfall doesn't so he prefers taking a dunk down here before heading back home.

Sure, he's got a bathtub like everyone else but the dirt and the grime he's been accumulating while working on houses means he'll end up having to clean his tub out four times a week and he doesn't have time for that shit. He'd rather wash off in the river and save the bath for in the morning when he washes his hair and gets his shave.

He's not shy about using the river, either. Plenty of people come down here to bathe and he's hardly the first to strip down and take advantage of the water to cool off after a long day. He ducks under the water and holds his breath for a few long minutes, just letting his mind focus on the sound of his own heartbeat before popping back up, water sluicing down his bare back and arms.
canaria: made by me | please don't take (working or some such)
[personal profile] canaria
WHO: Sara Lance and open
WHERE: Fountain, then various, winding up at the inn.
WHEN: June 20th
OPEN TO: Everyone
WARNINGS: Mention of death
STATUS: Open



Fountain:
The cold water is a surprise. But, thankfully, she's a good swimmer, so Sara moves her way to the water's surface and takes a deep breath of air once her head breaks the surface, and she coughs a small bit of water out of her mouth -- her blonde hair is clinging to her face, shoulders, neck, back. while she doesn't have a fear of water, finding herself in a body of water in this kind of circumstance vaguely reminds her of years ago when she was on a ship that sunk.

This also, she's pretty certain, isn't the time travelling she'd just decided to sign up for. Before she found herself in this fountain, she'd been talking with her sister, Laurel, standing right beside her. Why isn't Laurel here too?

But, she hoists herself out of the fountain completely, shakes some of the water off of her arms, and rings out her hair. If anyone happens to be around as she stands there, they'll get a:

"Just tell me that thing doesn't revive the dead." It's a stupid joke about her Lazarus Pit experience.

Elsewhere / inn:
Sara spends the rest of her day exploring what she can of the village she's found herself in. She won't go too far so as not to potentially wear herself out on her first day here, and so she can become more familiar with certain parts before others. Just because she could do it, probably, doesn't mean she should. So she paces herself.

She does, however, eventually decide to go into the inn. There are probably several more people in there, and people equal potential information (about this place, and maybe if someone has seen her sister if she's here too). Also, she should consider food soon. That's ... probably a smart thing to do.

But first, she'll open conversation with the nearest person by asking: "Uh, hi. Do ... you know of someone named Laurel Lance here?"
bewaretheniceboy: (Default)
[personal profile] bewaretheniceboy
WHO: Jax Teller, Neil Mackay, Peeta Mellark, and anyone who wants to visit them, doctor them, or look after them
WHERE: The hospital
WHEN: The days after the Obscurus rampage
OPEN TO: Anyone who wants to visit the patients, anyone who's hurt, or anyone who's got any reason to be in the hospital at all. Tag each other! Mingle! Commiserate!
WARNINGS: People got hurt, so injuries and wounds, presumably blood, at least one head injury, probably nightmares, and various medical things could all crop up here
STATUS: Open (please state who the tag is for and a general idea of a timeframe in the subject line of your comment!)




The doctors in this place were as quick as they could be with limited supplies or trained personnel. Within a very short time of the smoke monster smashing through one man and slamming a few others aside, they had the injured moved into the hospital, cleaned up, and attended to as best they could. The lack of supplies and technology across the entire village was felt more in the medical field than any other, but all the members of that little group were resourceful and determined, and at least while some of the injuries had been severe no one had been on the doorstep of death. It was easier to treat a person when you were sure they would keep breathing.

Still, a lot of it had been improvised, and no one could be healed in an instant; they'd all have to do it the old-fashioned way, letting time and rest mend their wounds. Neil, Jax, and Peeta had all been placed in the same room in the hospital just to make it easier to keep tabs on them and for companionship through the night. The beds were spaced far enough apart to give some sort of privacy if the conversations were kept quiet and spare blankets had been tacked up that could be pulled back or dropped like curtains to give at least a visual barrier around the patients, but no one was far away enough from each other to not be able to talk (or listen) if they wanted to. A few chairs were available for visitors' use, though slightly rickety and not up to much punishment. All three of them would be there for a good bit, so the goal was to make their stay as comfortable as was possible.
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
STATUS: Open


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."