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


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

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
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

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

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."

chosenbytheocean: (Saving the Chicekn)
[personal profile] chosenbytheocean
NOTE: Moana was gone for a little over 24 Hours. Anyone at the Inn probably noticed since she lives there and is there a lot. You are welcome to run into her at any point during any post.


Moana didn’t expect to be pulling herself from the fountain wearing the same navy blue scrubs that she had found herself in on day one. She pressed her palm against the fountain’s basin, making sure that her fingers didn’t slip on the wet stone that surrounded the familiar landmark. Moana pulled herself free of the waters grasps and tumbled forward until she was lying face up, her limbs sprawled at her sides. She watched the clouds roll by and while the ground beneath her was chilly, the air brushing over her damp skin felt nice.

She took a minute to lay there, her dark hair heavy with water and matted to her cheeks and neck. She hadn’t had the backpack this time. It was good in a practical sense but she hoped that her things were still in her room. Moana didn’t know how long she’d been gone. Her chest heaved with each unsteady breath and while remaining in her prone state she picked apart her memories of this strange village. It took her a moment for everything to catch up to her and in a rush she was on her feet, running through the town.

"I made it past the reef!"

Moana shouted happily at the top of her lungs. She’d run past people on the streets; pause and then backtrack; running over to them to share her excitement.


Moana’s excitement was fleeting. At her core, she wasn’t happy to be back in the small foreboding village, not after making it past the reef and then finding Maui. She had something to do, something that only she could do; the ocean had chosen her… … … … … … …

Moana stopped mid-step, her palm quickly pressing to her clavicle moving over her chest and then down her sides.

"I lost the heart." Her voice was high pitched and frantic. She turned on her heel and ran back to the fountain. Her hands continued to search her clothing but it wasn’t on her. Her abdomen crashed against the edge of the fountain as she peered over its edge, searching its depths for the small shimmering green stone.

"Give me back the heart!" She yelled at the water. Moana had spent days talking to the ocean, it was her friend, but the water didn’t respond to her now.


Moana woke with the sun and rolled out of bed. The morning air uncomfortably pricked at her skin as she moved about the small room. Her room was the place she slept, kept her things and a bunny. She didn’t spend a lot of time in her room that wasn’t dedicated to sleeping.

She tugged her fingers through her messy black hair and then headed towards her door, hoping that there might be something small she can eat in the kitchen. As Moana stepped from her room she tripped over a small box that had been perfectly placed to obstruct her path. A loud grunt echoed down the hall as Moana found herself upside down, her feet rather spectacularly positioned in the air and a box resting on her head. She heard the faint clamor of a squealing pig inside the box enticing her to move quickly and release the startled animal.

She hadn’t meant to trip over it.

As Moana opened the box she saw a small baby pig running in very small circles around a coconut. "Hey there. Calm down. It’s okay." She wasn’t going to let the pig out of the box until it was calm.

A half hour later Moana had sorted through the box. There hadn’t been a lot outside of the pig in it but she had gotten two coconuts and two sticks from a tree that she recognized. It was exciting to have coconuts again and given that there were a few people who’ve never eaten a coconut before, Moana set to cutting and cooking one to share with those in the Inn. She hoped that she could spot Credence since she’d told him specifically about coconuts a month or so before.


With the appearance of the box, Moana had a new project. She sat in the inn’s common room, positioned close to the fire, her feet were bare and her hair was tied in a not on the top of her head. She had the two sticks from a mulberry tree in front of her, both were a little under a foot in length, and a baby pig asleep next to her thigh. The fire had clearly been too much for it.

As carefully as she could, Moana cut a thin line down the sticks, splitting the bark. It was layered inside and with this opening she was able to pull the curled long strip of plant matter from its center. She was very careful while doing this, knowing that she wouldn’t get a second chance if she mess up.

Her dark eyes occasionally flicked to the young pork bun at her side making sure that she didn’t wake him from his sleep. It had been a tiring day for them both.
beallmysins: (004)
[personal profile] beallmysins
WHO: Jax Teller
WHERE: front steps of the Inn
WHEN: several days spanning over 21 March - 25 March
OPEN TO: all
WARNINGS: White Boy Angst
STATUS: open

the pen and paper has no judgment, no vote.

The box had come two days earlier and Jax hadn't opened it because he doesn't trust a single fucking thing about this place. He'd let it sit on the little table in his house and when the curiosity had finally eaten him alive, he'd opened it and found cigarettes and matches and a little notebook and pen. He'd been so goddamned elated to have a pack of cigarettes (eight packs of them, actually) that he'd wanted to start chain smoking them but he has decided he's going to ration them and try to make them last. Who knows if he's ever going to get another box like this again anyway?

He'd taken the notebook and stuck it in his pocket, stuck the cheap ballpoint behind his ear and taken a pack of the smokes up to the Inn so he could write. It's something he's always liked to do, get his thoughts down on paper, and while it's not going to be anything novel-worthy he thinks he wants to keep a record of this place and what happens here just in case he disappears and someone else from Charming shows afterward. He wants to leave an indelible mark so that it matters that he got marooned here and it's not just some fucking useless detour.

Right now, he's writing about everything that's happened so far that he can remember - the fountain, the people he's met. He's writing it in case Abel or Thomas ever get to read it. He thinks they'll like Moana, at least, maybe some of the others. He doesn't do a lot of editing when he writes like this, just stream of consciousness, and when he's finished for a while he puts it down and lights another cigarette, letting the smoke curl up and the embers flicker in the fog. He takes a drag, exhales, and thanks God that he's got at least a several days' supply if he rations. Maybe he can go three weeks if he's real good about it. When he hears someone approach, he figures it's only polite to offer a smoke even if he doesn't want to waste them.

"You want one? I can share."
bewaretheniceboy: (knocked flat)
[personal profile] bewaretheniceboy
WHO: Peeta Mellark
WHERE: Fountain, then woods
WHEN: March 9th, 10th
OPEN TO: Cassian first, then anyone else
WARNINGS: It's the Hunger Games, so... death, mental manipulation, brutal violence, sheer terror, and about twelve other things
STATUS: First section is closed; second and third are open, but be wary of terrified, adrenaline-filled Victors

The last thing he'd seen before unconsciousness took him was the burning structure of the dome above them collapsing, falling in pieces to the jungle floor right at the spot the lightning tree had been - right where Beetee had been, and maybe Finnick, or Johanna, even Enobaria - and he'd left the bodies of Chaff and Brutus behind in his mad dash back to the tree, as fast as he could go on the prosthetic limb but not nearly fast enough. Because the hovercraft appeared as its cloaking device switched off, claw lowering one, two, three times to lift bodies away (they couldn't be dead, she couldn't be dead, the cannon hadn't gone off again) before something overtook him and all his senses were cut out entirely, leaving him in a heap on the floor of the Quarter Quell arena.

When he woke, he was in another place entirely, but a place just as deadly for him. )
hawkeyesniper: (Revolutionary Warrior)
[personal profile] hawkeyesniper
WHO: Riza Hawkeye
WHERE: Around the Village
WHEN: Week of March 5 (various prompts)
WARNINGS: PUPPY...oh wait...I don't have to warn for that.

1. A New Gift... )

2. Training Day... )

3. A Spark... )
tarnishing: (087)
[personal profile] tarnishing
WHO: Taylor Baum
WHERE: Fountain and Inn
WHEN: Late afternoon, then evening
OPEN TO: Jax Teller & YOU
WARNINGS: Possible narrative mention of drug abuse
STATUS: Closed to new threads

fountain, for jax;

When Taylor jolts awake, it isn't the water that's the biggest shock; it's the cold.

One moment sunk into the warm, bubbly depths of a much-needed bath, the next her body has seized, the drop in temperature a vise across her chest that jerks her legs and arms inward and leaves her floating for a moment, embryonic and quaking in the cold, shimmering depths of the pool. Instinct and Mrs. Lennon's kindergarten swimming class kicks in, butterfly kicking her up and up until she surfaces, coughing, grasping against rough concrete, trying to haul herself free and failing. Her fingers have gone rigid and her muscles don't want to work, skinny elbows wavering when she makes a second attempt, mind already racing at the flood of unexpected information, finally flopping over the lip and curling into a ball on the hard ground with a throat-tearing, "FUCK!"

What has happened, what has happened, what has happened?

Bunched on the ground, her eyes are wide, blinking against the cold, and this is nowhere she has ever been, nowhere she has ever seen, she's sure of it.

"What, what, what, what," she whispers, the words shuddered out as she watches the sun dip past the tops of the line of fir trees, and she knows she has to move, but isn't certain she can.

inn, later that evening, ota;

If this is a dream, or a coma, or a drug-fueled hallucination, it is an impressive one.

It's been hours since Taylor changed into clean, dry, clothes, but still she's huddled beneath a blanket and parked in front of the wide hearth in what everyone is calling the "inn." It makes her wonder, dimly, if that name really applies if nobody's paying to be there.

She's not such a SoCal girl that she can't handle a little cold; she's been to Big Bear and Tahoe enough times. She owns a pair of skis, for fuck's sake, along with several super cute sets of stylish-yet-practical leggings for hitting the slopes or showing off her yoga butt at the coffee shop at Sundance. But this weirdness wasn't a gradual cooling; it was like a hard slap that reverberated down to her bones. She can't seem to get warm.

The sun has fully set and she probably needs to be more practical than this, probably needs to figure out where the hell she's sleeping tonight, but right now she's pretty sure could pass out right here and be okay with it.
beallmysins: (Default)
[personal profile] beallmysins
WHO: Jax Teller
WHERE: fountain; village
WHEN: 1 February
WARNINGS: language
STATUS: open


Water. Everything is fucking water from the top of his head to the bottom of his shoes and when Jax breathes in, he takes in a huge fucking lungful of it. It's burning like fire and he has no idea how he's drowning. He's known how to swim since he could walk, just about, so he pushes off against the bottom of the pool and claws his way up.

When his head breaks free of the water he realizes it's not the ocean or a swimming pool but a goddamn fountain. He half expects fairies or some shit pouring water but it's just a regular fountain, bubbling as if a full grown man hadn't just burst his way up from the bottom. Jax places his palms at the lip of it and pushes himself up and out, collapsing against the ground.

Wherever he is, its cold enough that he doesn't want to be outside in wet clothes and he lays there for just a few minutes, trying to catch his breath. He needs a cigarette. He needs a whole goddamn carton of cigarettes, at this juncture, and he has a sinking suspicion that no cigarettes will be to hand. There's a backpack or something strapped to his back and after laying on it for a few minutes he rolls over to his side and works it off; it's got a change of clothes in it, at least.

"Well I'll be damned," he says, pulling out the clothes to examine them. "Scrubs. Must be prison again." Doesn't explain the fountain, which wasn't at Stockton the last time he did time, but maybe he's gotten some kind of rec privileges and had a fight.

"Where the fuck am I?"


It takes him a little while to get his bearings but once he does, he sets out in search of civilization. He's got to figure out where the fuck he is and how to get out but, in the meantime, he needs a shower and a change of clothes. He's got the second part of it handled thanks to the pack he came in with but the first part is going to take a little more doing.

Wandering out of the park with the fountain, he finds a road and starts to follow it. Road has to lead to somewhere, right? Sure as he picks a direction and sticks with it, he comes up on several buildings. One of them looks like a police station, based on the shape and size of it, and he thinks there's some fucking goats or something in there making noise. Probably not the best idea to duck his head in there. No idea where he is but there's almost always some kind of outstanding warrant on his head these days thanks to feuding with the sheriff's office and the Niners so he's steering clear.

The next building he comes up on is a little busier, people coming in and out, and Jax runs a hand through his damp hair and strides up to the porch with the intention of getting some fucking information. Someone has to know more than "village that nobody knows the name of or how to leave," and he intends on shaking down whoever he needs to shake down to be able to get directions out of here. He's carless and bikeless, sure, but he can hitch if he needs to. It wouldn't be the first time.

He gets distracted when a woman walks past him and he tips his head, watching her ass as she walks by. The scrubs do nothing for anyone, it's true, but he likes to admire beauty where he can.


So after figuring out that there's really no way out of here and no matter how many pointed questions or threats he offers in exchange for information he's not getting anything out of the people here because they don't know anything, Jax decides he's going to go outside the inn and blow off some steam. He doesn't anticipate that there's a goddamn chicken coop out there, though, and he has no experience with chickens or farms or any of that domestic shit.

What is he, a fucking hippie? No.

Still, the chickens seem to be curious and one draws up close. He guesses it's the kind of thing his kids might want to see at the zoo or something, if he did stuff like that with his kids, and Jax reaches a hand out to pet one of them. He gets a peck between finger and thumb in response and jerks away. Still, the ground is soft and wet from what feels like a whole lot of rain (or snowmelt, maybe, but he has no idea if it snows in this fucking town or not) and he slides, feet going out from under him.

He lands, of course, in a whole bunch of chicken shit and the chicken looks pleased with herself. He's covered in mud, chicken shit and feathers and now the other chickens are clucking at him too. What is this, a goddamn chicken riot?

"I'm going to eat one of you fuckers if you don't stop," he curses, mostly under his breath. He thinks he probably shouldn't murder someone's pets even if they're stupid pets and he works on pushing himself to his feet. He's going to need another shower - probably ten showers to get all this off him and he hopes like hell that nobody saw that shit.

He stares at the chicken and moves his fingers from his eyes to point at it, issuing a threat. "You and me. I'm gonna get you back for this."


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