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WHERE: (Where the post takes place)
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can_fight_ugly

WHO: Anne
WHERE: Anne's House
WHEN: Tonight
OPEN TO: OTA/Mingle
WARNINGS: Drinking, will edit as necessary

[The video opens to show Anne's living room with a subtle glowing decor of candles and greenery and red berries (though, to note, care has been taken so the two elements are not intersecting). Anne herself is sleek-haired and smiling, with a little kitten perched on her shoulder. She's got one hand up to steady him as he's the inquisitive type, trying to lean in to sniff at the device she's currently talking to.]

I received two surprises today. Little Lynn on my shoulder, here, and an obscene amount of wine. So, I am declaring Girl's Night. 'Girl' is up to your interpretation. If you want to hang out and enjoy some wine, you'll be welcome. Just, BYOG; bring your own glass. House 53.

Private to Franklin

I was gifted with way too much wine for one person, and am throwing a little get together at my house. You're more than welcome to come, and I also wanted to know if you want me to set a bottle aside for you?

Private to Tony

Bottle of wine with your name on it if you want it, as thanks for helping me deal with Eddie and Venom.

At The House

Anne has pulled out a selection of eight bottles and set them in the living room. She's stashed two for herself and the rest are in the kitchen just in case they somehow run through the first 6,000 millileters. She's not sure how much interest there will be or how many people will show up, but she's also aware that what she's got could be considered a hot commodity.

So why not barter with it, Anne? Why not trade it for favors, labor? She asks herself, but the answer is too bare and ready; I'm lonely. The idea of filling her house up for one night for something that's not related to survival, surrounding herself with friends, will make the truth she's facing a little easier to bear.

Hadn't those been the best Girl's Nights? Either sharing a celebration or gathering to commiserate? It's not something Anne did often - she wasn't usually the one organizing it - but with everything that's been happening lately, she'd felt she was in need of a little release and what a perfect sign it was to find the 'Crazy Single Cat Lady Starter Kit' on her doorstep. At least she can have a sense of humor about it.

She's got a dry red opened and a glass poured for herself as she waits for people to arrive.

thekittenqueen

WHO: Margaery Tyrell
WHERE: Bungalow 4, Police Station
WHEN: Dec
OPEN TO: All
WARNINGS: Nothing really, just spoilers for the Purple Wedding

Bungalow #4

( Read more... )

Reminder of the Past (Sneak Preview)

[ooc: Foreward Dated to the 20th]

( Read more... )

vidal

WHO: Reyes Vidal
WHERE: The bunker; the inn; the village generally
WHEN: Dec 2-5
OPEN TO: OTA, multiples for inn/village allowed
WARNINGS: Nothing really

Arrival in the Bunker (now locked to Kat)
The last he knew, he’d been trying to hitch a ride off Port Meridian, the crashed ark turned human city. He’d been standing in the elevator while it rose sluggishly towards the shuttle bays. Boring enough, yes, because the elevators always seemed to run far too agonisingly slowly despite their complexity, but it hadn’t been nothing out of the ordinary—

Until, the next he knows, the elevator has filled with water. The thought Is the ark malfunctioning manages to run through his head, but then he’s far too busy trying to find the door, failing, running his fingers along the crevices and edges of the container, realising it isn’t actually the lift anymore, and then, his worst nightmare: panicking.

Reyes’ nerves are steely even at the worst of times, but water is simply inexorable, unstoppable, unbargainable. Thankfully, the wait isn’t long before the seal hisses open and the water starts draining and someone (his liberator, he supposes) is helping him out, shaky and wobbly-legged and swearing in Spanish.

South Village Inn, a couple days later (OTA)
Predictably, Reyes gravitates towards the inn. It’s the closest thing to Tartarus, the bar he used to haunt — communal spaces where he can people-watch, get a sense for the group as a whole, possibly even eavesdrop.

But unfortunately, this place is nothing like the neon-soaked dive bar on his slum planet.

The room starts off empty when Reyes begins his inspection, but after a while he hears the creak of footsteps on ancient floorboards, and his head pops up from behind the bar, looking a little sheepish — and empty-handed, dusty. Poking around every single cabinet and shelf has led to absolutely nothing. “Is it true?” he asks with a gesture towards the empty bar, with the sound of a man who’s recently received a horrifying diagnosis from the doctor.

Around the village (OTA)
Reyes will be doing the usual for his first few days: roaming, information-gathering, people-watching, committing the layout of the area to memory. He’s also trying to suss out who lives where and if the fuss of a house is worth it, so can probably be found lingering and staring thoughtfully at the empty buildings, where a neighbour can catch him. He would also appreciate anyone willing to show him where to get/find food etc!

thegreatexperiment

WHO: Samantha Moon
WHERE: The Tubes
WHEN: Spread out across early November
OPEN TO: YOU, YES, YOU (OTA)
WARNINGS: Standard warning for Sam's mouth, will update if needed

Sam liked to spend the occasional evening down in the tubes. She'd volunteered to watch for new arrivals, as was her 'civic duty,' or whatever. But it was more the peace she enjoyed. Living in the Inn came with a lot of dorm-y frustrations, between the single bathroom, the occasional neighbors punching her damn walls, and what she assumed were sex noises echoing through the halls.

But she had a new reason to go down there now: Stealing shit.

That was the idea, anyway. Although, so far, she hadn't found much worth taking. But all scientific endeavors, she knew, came with their fair share of setbacks. True, she and Bruce didn't have to worry about IRB approval or grand funding. No, they just had to deal with a serious lack of any equipment worth having. Not to mention anything that actually had the power to give her any kind of insight into the proteins swirling around the inmates' DNA. But Sam was nothing if not stubborn. So for a few nights, she crept down to the tubes, carrying a kitchen knife, a metal rod, and a canvas bag. Just in case she found something.

The biggest problem was the lists of names. No matter what Sam did, no matter what she told herself, she always and inevitably found herself reading them, again and again. The pain of seeing Avery on the list had dulled from a knife in her heart to an annoying ache. But the trouble with annoying aches was that they were fucking annoying.

Kind of like Avery, she supposed.

And if she wasn't scavenging through the equipment or reading the lists, she would sometimes take a small break, crouching down in a corner and sketching. At least now she wasn't obsessively drawing the sky. She had plans. Maybe unrealistic, irrational plans. But forward momentum wasn't something to sneer at. So she sketched all the equipment she wanted to build or have or make. Everything she and Bruce would need to conduct their work.

You know, in a perfect world.

nonstopnarcissist

WHO: Tony Stark & Bruce Banner
WHERE: Town Hall
WHEN: October 15th
OPEN TO: Everyone
WARNINGS: SCIENCE!!! Relevant OOC post is here! Topics for discussion/projects here. Go forth and make connections

( I just might have a problem that you'll understand )

ethnobotany

WHO: Beverly Crusher
WHERE: All over: schoolhouse, hospital, garden by House 20, lake's edge, ANYWHERE
WHEN: mid October
OPEN TO: EVERYONE
WARNINGS: tbd

Beverly had noticed the surprising return of the schoolhouse a few days after the bonfire, though she hadn't yet carved time out of her day to go see it. Now, though, as she passes by on her way to the Inn, she thinks she might be able to. The entire structure seems to have been rebuild almost overnight. She remembers well what it's been like for almost as long as she can remember being here and now here it is looking like new. She'd never really gotten a chance to look at it beforehand. Or, probably more accurately, she hadn't taken the time to before.

So why not now?

With that in mind, she finally steps inside, not really drawn to anything in particular. She's more just interested in seeing what there is to see inside. If she can find anything of interest, any books or other useful items, she'll call it a win. What a grand surprise, flashes through her mind as she makes her way further inside, not at all expecting to find anyone else.

Later on, she takes her normal daily activities, though once she finds out about the mind-linking and realizes it can be turned off, she tries to keep the app off. It... isn't always successful. So she can be found in the hospital, gardening by House 20, or out alone by the lake's edge when she wants to take a breather away from a bunch of people whose thoughts she can hear. Regardless, she is as usual very welcoming and sometimes her thoughts get the better of her if she isn't actively trying to keep a lid on them.

Wouldn't it just be nice if the Observers would stop treating us like mice?

On the 13th, which is the first year she's had an actual date here, she spends a decent amount of time at House 20, mostly full of introspection. Eventually, she takes some time at the Inn to drop off some chamomile leaves and see what else can be done. It's an interesting milestone, both in terms of birthdays and length of time here, and despite whatever new game the Observers are planning, she wants to keep forging friendships and building bonds. What better time to do that than on her special day? So she helps out as she can, asking anyone who steps into the kitchen area if they need anything in particular and doing her best to help if they say yes.

( ooc: if none of this catches your attention, wildcard her! i can come up with a reason for her to be just about anywhere, but if you're uncertain, feel free to ask me by pm or plurk! if you don't want a 'great minds' type plot/thread, just let me know in the subject line that your thread is without mind-link or something, so i know! )

chemethtry

WHO: Jesse Pinkman and… ???
WHERE: Various places!
WHEN: First few days of Jesse's arrival
OPEN TO: Anyone! Everyone!
WARNINGS: Nothing of note, but will edit if anything arises! Got a permissions post here, tho, should you need to know what warnings generally come with Pinkman territory.

( Jesse Pinkman in the house )

markwatney

WHO: Mark Watney
WHERE: Inn
WHEN: 18 August, lunchtime
OPEN TO: ALL - MINGLE
WARNINGS: n/a
NOTES: This is a standard mingle post centered on the daily lunch! Come grab a bowl and meet someone new! It's meant to emphasize making new CR, but is open to whatever you like. I am turning off notifs so if you want to tag Mark, pls wait for his top-level.

I have to admit, even in a situation as strange and unpredictable as this one, it's still easy to become complacent. That's just human nature, I think. But complacency isn't always bad — About some things, yes, but the human body wasn't designed to be perpetually hyper-vigilant. There need to be things that you feel comfortable relaxing about, and yeah, sometimes to the point that you forget how significant they are.

Like the daily lunch served at the inn. Kate came up with the idea not long after I first got here, with that first batch of fountain arrivals, and I honestly don't think there's been a single decision we've collectively made that's proven to be more important. Everyone, no matter who they are, knows they can come to the inn in the afternoon and take a moment to eat a hot meal and relax. A lot of hands go into making that meal, a lot of love and effort, and I think we often forget about the significance of that simple act. But that's good. That is, I think, part of the whole point.

Today, it's stew, which is pretty common — Easier to feed dozens of people that way. There's flat bread and herbal tea and tap water that's probably infinitely cleaner than even some of the bottled stuff back home. And it's good after a morning of hard work to wash my hands, grab a bowl and simply enjoy the company around me.

3ofswords

WHO: Kira Akiyama
WHERE: Throughout the 6I village; one starter in the treehouse village to the southwest
WHEN: August 19-26
OPEN TO: All
WARNINGS: Drug use mention in the second section; Kira as a character is likely to mention it in narration or dialogue. Existential angst and physical peril in the final section.

DROPS A MARBLE FROM THE SKY

OPEN TO THREE; 6I VILLAGE

Today, Kira's going to be a little hard to find.

It starts closer to noon--he's late for a shift in the kitchen, rounding up lunch for an increasing number of people. Would that the Observer caterers would share some of their fucking secrets. He's on his way back with a fresh bucket of peaches, getting what he can while the late summer stretches on, when his comeuppance from the last month arrives. A dozen little deer growling out of the brush, fangs showing. Two legs can't kick twelve deer, even with a bucket to swing--

But the flight response is a lot more literal than usual.

For the first hour, he isn't quite sure what's happened--a few sweeps of the lakeside village lets him know he hasn't been fucking swapped into a passing bird. There's no Kira dead on the path, covered in vengeful ungulates. Or worse--no bird-brained Kira eating ants off a log. Thank fucking Christ.

Which just leaves absurdity, beyond the pale of any he's known before. Beyond what he wheels and deals when trapped in conversation, the kettle trying not to boil over. Clones, magic, he thinks what he thinks, but he doesn't know anything anymore, except that he's either flatlining on a table and he hopes they're getting a good show out of whatever these final neurons are firing--or he's a bird. He's flying.

In the space where Kira should have been--the missed shift at the kitchen, the empty house with lonely dog and crow--there's a magpie flitting black and blue and white, diving between houses, coming in windows. When sighted, it tends to grab what it can from dressers and tables, blustering back out the way it came and leading any takers in a chase back to the porch he shares with Mark.

He'll figure out how to get back at some point; in the meantime, why not have some fun, trying to get someone to let him into his fucking house?

DON'T LET THIS FADING SUMMER PASS YOU BY

OPEN TO THREE; 6I INN ENTRANCE

( See post warnings )

YOU THOUGHT THAT YOU COULD OUTRUN SORROW

OPEN TO FRANK + TWO; SOUTHWEST TREEHOUSES

There are only so many days Kira can devote to bird-related pranks before the practical use of flight begs to be applied. With no clear sign of the abilty wearing off, the possible deadline weighs against concerns: could he lose it mid-air and fall to his death, is he wasting an opportunity that won't come again? He cares about one far more than the other, and it isn't dying.

Been there, done that, got several shitty black t-shirts with matching pants.

The rain and ensuing discovery of the terrible deer had driven him off from the treehouses, back to the village and its own disasters. Short of being teleported back on a whim, he wasn't going to get a better way to explore them: light weight, capable of flight. He doesn't even change back, for the first few houses--while his eyes might not be suited to reading, he could recognize objects well enough. There was always only one reason to come back.

Some sign of life. Some sign of identity to that life.

Kira glides from house to house, between the laden treetops. He pokes and prods through their contents, returning to form only to careful pull at drawers, open doors and shutters. He looks for books, journals, pieces of clothing. Old watches, jewelry, that stupid flame insignia on a cap or a pack.

It's in the fifth house that he finds it, hours later. Back to the one he'd been in at the start, one of the planks still split from his foot. If he had spent more time here, if he had been in a mind to look--

As a magpie, he lights on the dusty table, the shining item dulled by time and half-hidden by scattered leaves. Uncovering it with his beak, he leaps up, wings flapping, scattering more leaves from the desk. He has to move back, has to sit on the floor and think. He knows how this works, now, and it takes a moment, to want to turn back. To stand up and confirm what he's seen.

The lighter is familiar in its engraving, its signs of wear. As Kira stands there in the old parka, black feathers dropping from the hood, he traces the pattern with his finger, just like he had as a child. His father's lighter, sitting in an abandoned house.

Had it been his father's, or just--another Kira, struggling to survive this far above the ground?

As his hand tightens around it to the point of discomfort, patterned edges biting--the floor creaks, and Kira whirls to track the sound--

[ If your character has means and reason to have made the climb into the decaying tree houses, feel free to put them in the room; if they would be on the ground, feel free to have them wander below. Kira will be falling through the floor in either a few or in the immediate tag after, depending on where your character is! ]

demonic_divinity

WHO: Vergil Sparda
WHERE: The Inn, In and around House 48.
WHEN: July 17/19th
OPEN TO: All
WARNINGS: None, will update.

The Inn
Waking in the morning, Vergil set about gathering up the few things he had. More people had arrived since he had, and despite knowing the Inn was the best place to be, namely with his lack of survival skills. He was a loner by nature and the inn was just to full for his liking. The journal he had grabbed up on the day of the quake shoved in his bag with the rest of the things he arrived with in the bag.

He left the door cracked, to make sure it was clearly vacant now, moving down the steps quickly, stopping long enough to get something to eat to tide him over for awhile. Not being able to have whatever he wanted just delivered really sucked. Even pizza sounded like a heavenly gift now after the past week or so.

Around House 48 and the Mill
Vergil had walked around the village, as he had tried to do each day, but the rains and the quake had hindered his plans mostly. He had made his way around looking at empty houses, not going in just looking for something aesthetically pleasing. As if that even mattered in the situation he had found his life in of late. Some habits were hard to break.

Even his old base for the Order had been beautiful in its decay. So when he wandered his way across the water to the Mill, he found a small group of houses past the mill. It was a house with red brick and blue trim that called to him. Walking up the steps it was easy to tell this place was unoccupied. He held tighter to the backpack over his shoulders and made his way on up through the yard pushing the door open, the months and months on months and months of dust fluttered around, he sneezed loudly at that but left the door open. The first thing he did was walk around and open all the windows. It was hard to turn off the voice in the back of his mind screaming open windows invite robbers... but really? This wasn't Limbo City, and it sure had nothing worth stealing.

The door stayed open left the backpack on the porch and went in search of anything he could use to get the dust up, no broom in sight he did however find linens and stupidly decided to use one of the sheets to try to clean the dust up with it. It quickly got dirty as could be. A pillow case came next to start cleaning some of the furniture. Every now and then he would have to step outside and start sneezing loudly. Being human sucked. It wasn't fair that he had to clean, he was almost tempted to go back to the inn, but he had already committed to the idea.

Before the sun set he had found a way to beat the dust out of the mattress after stripping it and the pillows. All the linens needed washed but he was to tired to care. A month ago he would have judged himself. Sleeping on a dusty bare bed sounded more like something Dante would do than himself. He wanted a shower as well, but he wasn't sure how well he trusted the running water yet, the house had a long way to go, and the dark of the night felt a lot more noticeable by himself, still he was exhausted so sleep came quickly.

After morning came, he gave the plumbing a shot, changing into his spare scrubs after a quick cold bath. His reflection in the dirty mirror almost disappointed him, but an idea struck. Running down to the kitchen he looked around. The kitchen had dishes, and other things. He hurried down through the yard once he found the largest pan, taking the dirty bed clothes with him, though he had no soap yet, he tried his best to get some of the filth off the sheets. It made his arms ache pulling the wet sheets out and wringing them, throwing the wet pillow cases in the pan. With wet sheets over his arms folded enough to keep them from dragging. He made his way back from the river. He looked at the mill a moment, tipping his head to the side. Another idea forming but for now he had a house to clean and a survival manual to read.

It was mid afternoon when he gave up for awhile and could be found sitting on the front porch with the sheets hanging off the porch's rails, and the Army survival manual in hand, reading quietly. The house still had a lot of work it needed, and he needed to figure out how to clean the gutters and check and see if the furnace could be cleaned, but for a spoiled rich kid, he was pretty proud of what he had gotten done even if his clothes were filthy. The stolen journal from the inn's storage room was open next to him as he quietly jotted notes.

sixthiteration

WHO: EVERYBODY
WHERE: EVERYWHERE
WHEN: 13 July (afternoon, main quake) - 14 July (morning, last aftershocks)
OPEN TO: ALL - MINGLE
WARNINGS: Potential injuries, PTSD, and anxiety

The sun is still high when the earth begins its initial, almost benign sway, but seasoned villagers know well enough that what follows will be far from gentle. Vibrations ramp up swiftly, exponentially, until within the space of a few seconds, the whole world is shaking — Dishes pinging down from shelves, young trees sifting free of the earth, shingles dislodging and tumbling like rain.

After 20 seconds, the worst is done, and after 30 the shaking has ebbed completely. Some will have escaped relatively unscathed, but others will not have been so lucky...

...and the aftershocks are still to come.

theimmortalweapon

WHO: Danny Rand
WHERE: All around the village
WHEN: July 10th to July 13th
OPEN TO: All [* closed to the first person who tags it]
WARNINGS: N/A

FOUNTAIN; JUL 10 *

"I am treating you with respect by being who I truly am. Not everyone around you does the same."

The old woman's voice rang through Danny's head in stern warm notes. He had passed another test, faced another servant of the Hand, he had won and wanted to demand answers about his parents death. Familiar words, taunts, his parents, the monks, Madame Gao . . . Danny didn't know what was real and what wasn't and, before he could get his bearings, he felt himself floating. Water surrounded him, filling his lungs and clouding his senses with its smooth cool touch. A soft push encouraged him towards the distorted light, shimmering above his head, as his lungs began to burn impatiently demanding air.

Was this torture?

He could handle torture, the monk's had taught him to withstand pains and torments before he'd been allowed to obtain the mantel of the Ironfist. Some Ironfist he's turning out to be. Controlled by his anger, he left K'un-Lun, but Danny didn't regret it. Even now, it felt like the right choice. Why else would they have chosen an outsider to take the trial? He had been able to find the Hand. He can stop them once and for all . . .

A fuzzy haze filled Danny's thoughts as cold rain began to beat down on his face, his shoulders and chest. He's floating; an awkward weight pulling at him as his clothes shift and ripple with the steady disturbance of the rain. He tried to remember what he'd been doing . . . Gao, Colleen, Claire? They had been fighting. He's been . . . his head throbbed and his thoughts slipped away from him.

He was floating but for some reason he didn't have the strength to pull himself from the water.

INN; JUL 10

It had taken Danny a few hours to shake off the haze of his arrival. He felt drugged, hungover and wet.

This wasn't the first time he had traveled to an unexplainable world but he'd never thought that it would happen again and without any memory of his arrival to draw on. He'd lived in K'un-Lun for over a decade before the way had opened again, how long would it be until he returned home this time?

He couldn't wait that long.

Danny stripped in front of the inn's fire, hanging the dark green scrub on the mantel in hopes to dry the soaked fabric. Dirty blond curls hung limply around his head as he bathed in the heat of the fire. He watched the flames danced, licking up the side of the logs and curling into the air as light flicker into an invisible heat. It was easy to lose himself to his thoughts and the turmoil that he had felt bubbling inside of him.

The black mark of his dragon tattoo along with decade's worth of hideous scars marked and marred his chest, shoulders and back. Danny didn't look like much, his features were pleasant, cute even, but his body told the story of a man who had ventured through hell and managed to come out the other side.

INN; JUL 10/11 *

Midnight neared and Danny felt the hour approaching like an instant ache in his side.

As comfortable as the bed was, he couldn't sleep. Madame Gao's words hummed like a pained memory in his head, repeating over and over again as if to haunt him. His fingers curled into a fist and he punched the wall of the room shaking the wooden planks that defined and shaped the inn's upper floor. He didn't have the strength of the undying dragon, he hadn't been able to access the Ironfist for days but it felt further away from him now, as if the water of the well had stolen more than just a few hours of his memories.

A groan rumbled through his chest as he pushed himself up from his bed.

Danny didn't consider the noise he was making, he hadn't even thought that punching the wall might rouse someone from their bed or call someone already awake to the source of the noise. His focus was centered on his thoughts and the growing frustration he felt bubbling in his chest.

The door to his room was open and anyone coming to inspect the noise would find Danny standing in front of the window, watching as the rain beat angrily against the glass. He looked tense, angry and once again he was shirtless.

TOWN; JUL 11 THRU 13

It was an hour before sunrise.

Danny hadn't slept well but he wasn't going to let that get in the way of his usual morning routine. He found a small clearing of grass, just outside of the inn, and began shifting through the calming stances he'd learned during his training in K'un-Lun. Those familiar with martial arts will notice that Danny's style is a combination of a few different Kung Fu technics though with a slightly different edge or flair to each motion. He favored forms that were prevalent in Tia Chi but even that couldn't exactly quantify what he was doing.

He trained for a little over an hour, half way through taking off his shirt as sweat and mist dotted his shoulders and back. He felt the cool humidity dance against his skin, warning him of the impending rain, but ignored it.

After training, Danny headed back to the inn to grab something to eat and figure out how he could assist those living in the village. He'd speak to anyone who was around or stand there looking a little bit like a lost puppy. He decided that today he'd explore, cut some wood for the inn and gather his bearings. He didn't like the idea of not chipping in, even if he'd only arrived the day before.

Towards the afternoon, he took an hour to meditate on the lip of the fountain. Danny tried to remember how he had gotten here, what paths he had walked but his memories held nothing but darkness. A low annoyed growl rumbled through his chest before releasing his breath and his anger. He couldn't summon the Ironfist and he couldn't find any answers.

What use was he?

In the evening Danny chopped wood outside of the inn. This time he'd left the hunter green scrub in his room but had grabbed a towel to whip off the beads of sweat that dotted his skin. Rain began to fall in a slow steady dribble but that didn't deter Danny from splintering the thick logs and placing them under the inn's awning so they can dry.

[ooc: Feel free to run into Danny at any time during this last post over the next few days.]

notan_animal

WHO: Logan Howlett
WHERE: Fountain, House #60, Inn
WHEN: July 9th and 10th
OPEN TO: All
WARNINGS: He's Logan, considered yourselves warned

Arrival Day; Fountain - One volunteer for fountain, otherwise OTA

In the midst of it happening, Logan felt the feeling of déjà vu; his mind remembering the sensation of water surrounding. But given his very last memories of what had occurred and the whirlwind of anger and pain and confusion of a place and people he shouldn't know but did make his arrival a rather loud one.

He grunts while trying to catch his breath and looks around with a defensive look that conveyed that the man was clearly unpredictable and needed to be approached with caution, though it doesn't take too long for him to finally get on his feet and take a look around with something of familiarity.

Later in the evening, he could be found sitting on the step of his newly claimed house trying to collect his thoughts and figure out the past, present and what was going on in his future. As well as where his last visit to the settlement fit into it all.

Around and at the Inn - OTA

Any kind of rest didn't include much sleep. As always, he woke up after a nightmare, metal claws out and shredded sheets on either side of him. This time, he was letting out a pained holler when they didn't. There was only intense pressure that made both hands ache like they never had before.

So he grabs the white shirt that he'd changed into earlier that day and sets out for a walk, eventually ending up at the inn where he grumbles through making a cup of something and sits down.

He could really use a cigar and a glass of something strong right now.

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.

underpinnings

WHO: Owen Prichard
WHERE: 6I Fountain Park; 6I Inn
WHEN: April 1st. On the tail end of everyone else exiting the simulation and coming out of the fountain.
OPEN TO: All
WARNINGS: Owen's coming to 6I just after killing a zombie he was locked in a room with, which will be described in an intro segment under a cut.

( cw: violence, zombies )

arrival; fountain; after the groups of three have arrived

Owen comes to submerged in water, something solid and braying pushing on his chest. A splash, concrete at his back; his hands instinctively find and map the object at his chest, pressing him up out of the water. Wet nose, wicking in fur, a wide brow. He coughs and sputters awake to find a cow blowing hot breath and shockingly loud calls into his chest. It butts him with its brow, shoving him all the harder against the side of--

A fountain.

One arm wings back over the edge, steadying him as he looks for any kind of bearing. Cattle's not unheard of in the right places; but a fountain that's still running, not overgrown with ivy and moss--that isn't something he's seen. People build wells if they're smart, aqueducts if they're trying to save the world--but they don't build shit for decoration.

Satisfied with his grip, the cow butts into him one last time, before paddling to the right. He's still catching his breath when it reaches over the short barrier with its head, dragging with its heavy chin in the grass until it can scrape a foreleg over the edge. On the other side of the centerpiece, there are wide antlers breaking the water, a bull moose pushing a younger one similarly onto the grass.

Did he get out? Did he push north? The tree cover is a little heavy for where he'd been, once he starts looking out. When he looks down, he's in blue-green scrubs, and there are black straps on his shoulders. Did he steal the scrubs and pack, had they prepped him for surgery or had he simply escaped?

He can't remember. Just the bite of the needle, and the fountain.

On the list of vital information, he shoves am I infected to the bottom. There are others a short distance away; their similar attire answers no questions, but it might let him blend in. They're disheveled, long-haired, and someone appears to be taking stock. Did they all escape the compound? Were there more unwilling victims, hidden deeper in the facility? Right now, it doesn't matter. He could be infected, they could. He needs to roll himself out of the fountain--accomplished after a few floundering tries, and find a place to watch.

Next to him, the cow keeps trying to drag its second leg over the stone lip. Its legs aren't as long as the moose, and it doesn't appear to have any family to help it besides. Livestock has to be important, and at this point--one good turn deserves another. Owen pauses briefly in his retreat, dragging off the backpack and looping one of the straps around the cow's head in a makeshift lead. Digging booted heels into the dirt, he leans back, adding his weight to the effort to pull it free.

( post-arrival prompt )

tooktheblack

WHO: Jon Snow
WHERE: woods; inn
WHEN: 4 March
OPEN TO: All
WARNINGS: TBD

As the weather had been a bit milder these past few days, Jon had taken the bow and been ranging more than he had when the snows were thick and coming down on a regular basis. It was easier to find game when fresh shoots were pushing up through the earth and there was one clearing in the forest that was especially good for hunting; deer liked to gather around a small pond and drink and it was easy to bag at least one before the others scattered in panic.

One buck would be enough to feed people for several days, even if the whole village ate from it, and while he still hunted birds and the like it was a good target to have. Approaching the watering hole, he nocked an arrow in his bow and aimed, only to be startled out of the shot by being in Winterfell again.

Winter is here.

Sansa looked at him with grim determination, the girlish features of her face hardened now into stone. She'd gone through so much in the last several years, changed so much, and yet beneath it all she still had what made her a Stark. He was a Stark too, he guessed, after having been crowned King in the North but he didn't feel it. He would never feel like a true Stark in these walls.

When he came free of the memory, the arrow was lodged in a tree and the deer were gone. He headed back to the village empty handed and went to get something to drink. He wished it were ale, considering, but it was only tea because they had nothing stronger. Why would that have felt so real? Why would he be standing on the battlements at Winterfell with Sansa - a Sansa that was older than the one here? It made no sense.

"Something queer is going on in this place," he said, speaking loud enough to be overheard by anyone else who might be walking into the Inn. "I've never had a vision of home before."

cleptes

WHO: Bela Talbot
WHERE: Bela's house and the forest
WHEN: 3rd - 5th February
OPEN TO: OTA
WARNINGS: Swearing

Background - no prompt: - 3rd

Bela had come across the letter whilst she was out gathering firewood near the outskirts of the forest. She saw a flash of red poking out from beneath the brush and went to investigate it, in the hope that it was something useful.

That was several hours ago.

Now she was seated by the fire in the inn, turning the letter over in her hands and trying to decide whether or not to open it. Was it a test? The letter was addressed to her and she was the one who just happened to find it outside; dismissing it as just a coincidence didn't feel right to Bela. She was worried that there may be consequences if she didn't open it, but there may also be consequences if she didn't.

She frowns, lifting her gaze to the roaring fire. There is a pause, and then Bela tears up the envelope, tossing the pieces into the flames and watching it burn. Choice made. Now she won’t know the contents and they won't affect her.

( Prompts below )

viridescere

WHO: Oliver Queen
WHERE: 6I Inn; lake in 7I
WHEN: 21 January
OPEN TO: all
WARNINGS: TBD. Also a note - Oliver has a lot of tattoos and scarring that will be visible.

but i only see one way out (lake)

OTA

It's probably idiotic to do this but Oliver at least has come prepared. He has his warm jacket, a sweater he'd recently gotten in the box, two pair of socks and three blankets set at the shoreline. For his part, he's naked as the day he's born and trying to get up the courage to jump into icy cold water. It's slow to come, yes, but eventually he just takes in a deep breath and wades into the water until he can start to swim.

He swims until his lungs burn and each pull of his muscles borders on painful rather than a good stretch. His concentration on form and speed helps to distract him from how goddamn cold the water is and he feels like this lake is endless. Is it endless? It certainly seems that way from the shoreline. Right now, he has no idea how long it's going to take him to get to the other side but he's going to do his best.

He doesn't know how many meters he manages before he just has to stop and tread water for a moment, the shoreline distant and small from where he is. It feels like he gets further every time he tries this but he still can't get there and never getting the carrot on the stick is starting to weigh on him.

He's going to crack this place. Eventually.

For now, though, he gathers as much strength as he can and pushes himself back to shore. When he reaches it, he collapses against the stony shoreline and just gasps for a moment, trying to get his bearings. It's so cold, made even worse by the fact that he's soaking wet. He reaches for one of the blankets and dries himself off as quickly as he can before getting dressed again. He wraps the other blankets around him in an attempt to conserve warmth and walks back toward the village, wanting to warm up with some food and a fire.

This is possibly one of the stupider things he's done lately.

then i floated out of here (inn)

OTA.

After his particularly stupid excursion trying to swim the lake, Oliver finally manages to get to the inn and he's settled in front of the fire with a mug of some kind of herbal tea between his hands. The tea is all right, so far as those things go, and more than tasting good it is warm and it's helping him start to feel the tips of his fingers again. That can only be a positive.

His hair is still damp and he's shivering but his eyes are alight with possibilities. Could they build a boat, possibly? A boat would be a lot less risky than trying to swim the lake in the middle of winter and Oliver thinks if he could build a kayak-style boat and row himself out as far as he can manage and try to see if there's a way out. It's futile, probably, but he can't let it lie when he'd gotten so close this time.

When someone comes into the inn Oliver turns his head, trying to see who it is. He calls out a quick hello and goes back to curling up before the fire, trying to decide how best to attack the problem of getting the hell out of here.

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.]

familybusiness

WHO: Sam Winchester, Dean Winchester, and You
WHERE: Fountain, Inn
WHEN: 12/20 - 12/21
OPEN TO: Open unless marked otherwise
WARNINGS: None so far

The Fountain - Closed to Dean Winchester

Sam finds the surface of the water himself, hand breaking through to grasp the side of the fountain, fingers finding enough grip to haul himself out with little effort. The air was cold against his waterlogged skin, his soaked clothes wet as they hung from his body, but it only took a few moments for him to push to his feet and take a sharp look around.

The last thing he'd remembered was sliding into the passenger seat of the Impala after meeting back up with Dean what felt like the middle of nowhere. One moment he'd been expecting the familiar feel of the seat, and instead he'd been greeted by cold water and burning lungs as he held his breath.

Had Lucifer gotten in his head again? Was this some way to try and locate him, to try and force him to say yes?

He couldn't possibly know, not for sure, so in the moment he simply leans back against the edge of the fountain, running a hand down the front of his face to press away the water running down from his hair as he tried to think.

The Inn - Open

Sam tries to keep to himself that first full day. He and Dean have things to talk about, plans to run through, before he does anything resembling being social. They don't know these people, and for all he knows? It might not be real at all, just once giant trick of the mind. It's something he's lived through before, and just because it felt, smelled and looked real, didn't mean that it necessarily was real.

His hunger is real enough, though, and so he appears briefly a couple times during the day to find some food. Unfortunately for him, his height and stature make him stick out like a sore thumb, so stealth isn't exactly his forte. He just hopes he can get in and out before he has to answer too many questions.

Sam isn't exactly all that great at turning down someone attempting to start a friendly conversation, though, so it's easy enough to catch him up in one before he gets what he's looking for.

Sixth Iteration

Logs

Entries tagged with spn: bela talbot

Credits & Style Info

GIRL'S NIGHT

The Rains Weep O'er His Halls

things happen, that's all they ever do.

I'll go where answers can be found/Kick the door and smash it down [OPEN]

[ MINGLE ] STARK EXPO SOUTH VILLAGE

great minds and all that ( OPEN )

[ OPEN ] Jesse's arrival

[MINGLE] Daily lunch

[ota] let this be a warning, says the magpie to the morning

DROPS A MARBLE FROM THE SKY

DON'T LET THIS FADING SUMMER PASS YOU BY

YOU THOUGHT THAT YOU COULD OUTRUN SORROW

(no subject)

[MINGLE] Great Shakes

001 - That Was Fast [OPEN]

huh. so we're doing this again, eh?

[EVENT - MINGLE] Badger Havoc

[arrival] doomed as the source

we know no king but the king in the north (ota)

OTA - I should be so lucky

004 ➵ you know i love the element of surprise (OTA)

but i only see one way out (lake)

then i floated out of here (inn)

[ota] 002 | we've come as far as we're ever gonna get

001 ][ I was soaring even higher, but I flew too high