Sixth Iteration Logs

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pretendtoneedme

WHO: Anyone not whisked off on a Glorious Adventure
WHERE: The villages
WHEN: May 10th and the days following
OPEN TO: Everyone still "at home"
WARNINGS: Please put triggers in the subject line if they come up!

For some people, it's noticeable: other members of the village community suddenly not where they'd been working beside them a moment before, in the hospital, the inn, or out in the fields getting them refurbished after winter. For many, it's not - not until their attention is drawn to it, anyway, by absences at meals or other villagers running around looking for the missing. But on the tenth, twelve members of their little tribe have suddenly vanished, too many to be accounted for by the random disappearances they're all familiar with and undoubtedly part of something the observers have planned. What it is, no one knows, and it's easy to wonder and even panic if more people would disappear, and if they did, who would be next. Questions are asked, plans are discussed, and speculations are made over the next few days as the missing begin straggling back to the village. It's another demonstration of the lack of power over their own lives that many people didn't want, and not an easy one to swallow so soon after the last one.

At some point during the first day, part of the chalkboard that had been moved to the inn has been erased and a new message added:

HAVE YOU SEEN THESE PEOPLE
SEEKING INFORMATION

Below is a list of names that anyone can add to if they find a friend, loved one, or relative has vanished. Some have added names next to the missing to show who specifically is looking for this or that person or who to bring any discoveries to. It's an imperfect system, but at least it gets the word out.

((OOC: mingle post here to ask questions, search for the lost, discuss plans for finding them, look after their animals, panic attacks, whatever you want to do! Feel free to go nuts and have your kids put on their shiniest tinfoil hats to speculate what the hell is going on here.))

sixthiteration

WHERE: 6I Fountain Park & Elsewhere
WHEN: April 1
OPEN TO: ALL - Mingle
WARNINGS: N/A

In the snug circle of an old park, a fountain sits burbling beneath a broad, midday sky.

Once-neat paving stones have buckled and cracked from the slow nudge of wayward roots. Benches stand covered in lichen and rust. Three paths push into the underbrush like the spokes on a wheel, the encroaching forest creating lush tunnels through the dark.

But the fountain stands singular and pristine, brightly splashing in open rebellion of the deep, muffled sounds of a place long ago gone to seed. A vibration hums through the ground, there and quickly gone, and the water in the fountain trembles, lapping against the high walls of its cool, pale reservoir.

Far, far away, in a place that isn't really there, people begin to blink out of existance.

It is the first of April.

It is precisely ten o'clock in the morning.

[Please see event details and guidelines here.]

enterprisingheart

WHO: Jean-Luc Picard
WHERE: near House 20/near the Inn
WHEN: March 16th
OPEN TO: OTA!
WARNINGS: None at the moment

Given the mist that's been making its way through the village of a morning - and more relevantly, the reaction that he's seen people have after having been caught out in it - Jean-Luc isn't entirely unaware of the fact that the Observers seem to have seen fit to saddle them with another round of various inconveniences. On the other hand, at least the mist is easy enough to avoid, given that t seems to be most prevalent in the morning, and as far as he can tell, only imparts its effect when someone is actively caught out in it. And that has been easy enough to avoid so far.

In retrospect, he probably should have expected that Observers had something else up their sleeves. As it is, the first flash catches him by surprise, not long after he's stepped outside for the day - one moment he's making his way through the village, the next the village is gone, replaced by the bridge of the Enterprise.

(Ahead of them, the blue-green aura of the temporal vortex looms, large enough to swallow a starship whole.

"Temporal vortex stable," Data reports from his position at the helm.

Picard nods, even though he knows it won't be seen.

"Maintain current course and speed. Destination: the 24th century." A pause. "Take us home, Mr. Data."

Data nods--)

--And then the Enterprise is gone, leaving Jean-Luc reeling in the wake of what he's just seen. And what it might mean, at that. It's certainly not the first time that something the Observers have done have resulted in people seeing things that weren't truly there, but what they might be hoping to get by this, and what it might mean is something that he's not certain he could say. Instead, he stands there a moment longer, before shaking his head as if to clear it and then continuing on his way.

He's drawing near to the Inn, when it happens again: between one breath and the next he's somewhere else entirely, transported by who knows what.

(It's not the bridge of the Enterprise that grows up around him. This time it's vines. Grape vines, to be precise, stretching out as far as the eye can see, and above him the crystal clear skies of a summer's day in France. Home, for all that the Enterprise is just as much so; he makes his way over to the nearest vine, and reaches out as i to touch the grapes hanging there--)

--And then they too are gone in the blink of an eye. This time, however, he doesn't simply stand around amused. This time things are far too deliberate, and given the last time that he'd been bounced around between the Enterprise and La Barre, it's perhaps no surprise that he responds the way he does.

"This isn't funny, Q!"

Mind, he still has no idea if Q is even involved. But in the heat of the moment, he can't deny that yelling at Q feels good, at least, even if it isn't going to change anything.

rangerbecket

WHO: Raleigh Becket

WHERE: Inn, Peach Tree, 7I village

WHEN: 21 March

OPEN TO: all

WARNINGS: TBD

Raleigh keeps a regular schedule, more or less. Every morning he gets up early and drops a kiss or two on Sansa (who's usually still in bed) before going and checking his lines and getting some fishing done. By the time he's brought in the morning catch, Sansa's usually awake and they can go to the Inn for breakfast and to catch up with friends and family.

If he'd been told two years ago that this kind of mundane, day-to-day existence would become his life, Raleigh would have laughed in all their faces. His life had always erred on the side of too exciting and Rangers don't really get a chance to relax for the most part. Kaiju come quicker and quicker and Jaegers have to be piloted. That's life and they're the only thing that stand between the end of the world and life as we know it. It's nice to have that burden removed, even if for a little while.

Today, Raleigh's done checking lines and making the long walk back from the house he shares with Sansa over on the other side of the settlement back over to the Inn to see about getting something that passes for brunch. He's out of the village on this side and to the peach tree when the first flash starts.

"Mako, it's just a memory. Don't go chasing the rabbit!" There's a tiny Japanese girl paralyzed with fear as a kaiju roars down the streets of a city Raleigh doesn't know. The girl cries and tries to run, gets cut off by the monster at every turn. When it looks like she's not going to escape, a Jaeger shows up and starts fighting the kaiju, taking it out, and the pilot emerges. Before Raleigh can see his face, he jerks out of the memory.

Raleigh has no idea what that's about. It's never happened before, honestly, and he walks around the peach tree a few times to try and trigger the memory again before giving up. It'd felt so tangible and real, just like the time he'd drifted with Mako and experienced that memory through her eyes, and he has no idea what could cause that kind of hallucination.

Raleigh decides to head to the Inn even faster now, wanting to compare this experience with others. He isn't quite there before he gets another memory, one of he and Yancy fighting Knifehead back in Anchorage when Yancy had died. It's a painful memory and one Raleigh really could have done without reliving. When he pulls open the door to the Inn, he immediately sees about getting a cup of tea. He could have done with something alcoholic but, unfortunately, that's not on the menu.

While he's bustling around the kitchen, he calls out to the other people around. "Anything I can get for you? Village is being weird today so I figured I would stay inside."

minus1twin

WHO: Wanda Maximoff
WHERE: All over the Village
WHEN: January 15th (After the snow storm)
OPEN TO: Everyone
WARNINGS: N/A (please label any warnings in headers when they come up if they do.)

Wanda was happy to see the last bit of snow fall from the sky. She had nothing against the snow or the cold but she could only spend so long cooped up inside. There was work that had to be done now that the blizzard was at it's end, however, work wasn't the first thing on Wanda's mind as she stepped out into a world of perfect white.

She recalled what Raleigh had said. At the time, her memory had been lost but she remembered now, like he was standing next to her speaking into her ear. 'Even as an adult stationed up in Anchorage, we'd blow off steam having snowball fights. You ever do that? Duck and cover, try to see if you could get someone more than they got you?'

Wanda looked down at the snow and smiled. They all needed to blow off a little bit of steam. She gathered the snow in her palms as she made her way towards the inn, looking for unsuspecting victims to pull into her game. She waned everyone to play. They all needed a little bit of fun.

[ooc note: this is an open log for a large village snowball fight that Wanda is going to start. I'll be tagging everyone with her but feel free to post a header and say that Wanda dragged your character into the game. I'm good with assuming anything so that everyone can get involved! There might also be a puppy following Wanda, giving away her position if you want to nail her with a snowball :D]

sixthiteration

At the Inn, there are a number of tables set up with neatly labeled place cards. At each place is a favorite dish from home, something that kindles warmth and goodwill — But try to move seats, and you will find a surprise: Your dish refuses to move. It seems that if you want to indulge, you're stuck with whoever happens to be at your table for company.

Outside, a gentle snow is falling - not enough to discourage any patrons but just enough to blanket the world in clean, soft white.

sixthiteration

WHERE: 6I Inn
WHEN: 10 November, all day
OPEN TO: ALL - MINGLE POST
NOTE: Details can be found here.

In the wee hours of November 10th, before even the earliest risers have roused themselves for another day, items begin to appear in the front room of the Inn. Decorations first — Boughs of autumn leaves in their reds and golds, wreaths of dried flowers and silken ribbon, flickering candles among the goards and berries and acorns. The food arrives next, the decadent aroma slipping up the Inn stairs to tempt those lingering in bed — Every imaginable harvest time delicacy, from roast turkey and ham to smoked salmon and oysters; fresh, soft bread warm from the oven to plum pudding and ice cream. And did we mention pie?

Once again, it's time for a feast. The bar is stocked, the coffee is brewed and the tables are groaning with food. Indulge, there's more than enough for everyone — That is, if you don't lose your appetite worrying about what it will all cost.

womanofvalue

WHO: Peggy Carter
WHERE: In the Inn
WHEN: October 20th, at sundown and moving towards
OPEN TO: All
WARNINGS: She's fading, fading away!

Something strange has been happening to her, though Peggy has been having a terrible month and the truth is, she hasn't seen fit to get out as much as she ought to. It had begun earlier, when she'd started to see Steve less around town and then, when enough time had passed that she was sure he wasn't just avoiding her, Peggy had come to the epiphany that he was gone again. Then, when she'd gone to find Barnes to ask him about it, he wasn't there either, though at least with him, someone had mentioned seeing him go off with Moana earlier.

And yet, couldn't he be gone, too? Just like all the others who've left.

It's been a recipe for isolation and Peggy has spent most of her time in her home with Stella, but each night, she ventures out to the inn to see if perhaps James has returned. The strangeness that's happening each night upon which she seems to be less opaque than usual worsens and as midnight nears, Peggy hasn't been able to put her hands on anything and secure them. With the sun beginning to set, she feels that same sensation again as she stands in the lobby of the inn, pacing and watching the door as she tries not to fidget, and yet, it's a futile exercise in two ways.

The first being that it's not going to stop her thoughts.

The second in that, her fingers keep slipping through the strands of hair she keeps absently touching. Yesterday, no matter how she tried, she couldn't get Stella's attention when she'd called for her in the middle of the night, and now Peggy has had to put aside her grief and admit that something is very wrong. The trouble is, what happens if she can't figure it out? Will she simply vanish? It's a terrible thought, but right now, with no solution, she has little else to do but worry.

"Hello," she says, frantic to escape these thoughts when someone opens the door. Before she even sees who it is, she's blasting into a question. "Can you hear me? See me?"

thenewways

WHO: Kira Nerys
WHERE: The garden
WHEN: 22 September
OPEN TO: OTA, with locked log for Watney
STATUS: open (OTA)

It's clear to nearly everybody (and that's despite everything that's come up to divert the attention of the group, particularly of late) that the change of seasons is upon them. Even though Nerys doesn't have any solid sense of Earth astronomy at all, and has no clue that autumn is nigh, she's not completely oblivious to the shift herself, even if the weather's been veering frantically over the course of the last month. Apparently staying firmly put in the 'cooling down' column isn't really how this works.

Either that or the observers roll the damn dice every day to see what the weather's going to be. Today it is absolutely frigid, to the point where Nerys had to pull out a couple of layers of sweater this morning just to steel herself up to the notion of working outside. She's wrapped her hands firmly as well, as much for the warmth as to protect them from her tools.

If there's anything that Nerys is good at, it's getting on with the business of surviving--while the village and the other finds intrigue her somewhat, they unsettle her even more. These days, the chill in the night air (and now the day too) means it's nearly harvest time, and if they don't start canning up what they've got right now, it's going to be a lean winter again. Not to mention that there are more people around to feed, and she has no intention of anyone starving on their watch.

It's not like the garden hasn't been through enough this year, the plants hanging on to their lives with a sheer tenacity that rivals the sentient beings of the village. Hell, rivals the damned foxes. The latter have, over the last few weeks, been making a mess out of what's still left to be harvested. Sure, using blood- and bone-meal for fertilizer probably attracts them, but that doesn't really account for the sheer maliciousness of what's been done--vegetables left in neat piles with a single large bite taken out of them, mounds of chewed up berries, holes dug in very precise locations. It's enough to piss a hungry Bajoran the hell off.

[kind sir, be civil, my company forsake - OTA
So that's why Nerys is out hoeing up potatoes on a freezing cold afternoon. If they can get these down into the cellar space at the inn, they'll last a few months, though not as long as if they could leave them in the ground a while yet. She's already cut an armload of late zucchini and squash without much incident, but word gets around both among the humanoid and vulpine populations, it would seem.

A pack of three foxes have spent the last ten minutes slinking up to and around the potato patch, circling Nerys in slowly narrowing concentric arcs. She could swear that they keep looking at her, with the kind of expression that indicates they want her to know they're looking. Despite herself (come on, the Cardassians have played this game with much higher stakes), the frustration's built up to the point of snapping in two. One fox tries to move a little too close, pushes the envelope, and Nerys finds herself snarling, brandishing the hoe like a pike at him.

"Get!" she shouts, voice cracking. "Damn it...all of you, get!"

The fox doesn't, though all of them freeze; instead, they seem to give her a look that asks her who exactly the animal is meant to be in this situation. It's not lost on Nerys, who bites her lip hard enough to draw blood.

"Fuck, come on," she says, almost pleading. "We just want to eat."

The foxes are, unsurprisingly, unmoved.

[sly, bold Reynardine - for Mark]
The potatoes are in, or at least as many as Nerys dares to harvest right now today. Midday's long gone and it's not gotten much warmer, and all she can think of is frost on the vines. So, despite herself, she's kept on working, switching over to the remaining beans. The goal with these is to can them in the containers from one of the earlier feasts, cap them with beeswax, and call it a day, hoping it won't kill them all.

It seems like a worthwhile thing to try, at least.

Nerys' got a half a bag full already when she realizes there's a fox watching her from over by the wastewater tub. Five minutes later, it hasn't ventured much closer, so she's pretty sure it's just a scout. She makes a silent snarling face at it, before shifting up to her feet to ease the strain on her hamstrings for a second--and in the process, ends up snarling at Mark across the plot of beans. The color of her face after she figures that out probably rivals the turning leaves across the field.

[refs are to the British/Irish were-fox folk song 'Reynardine'; Rhiannon Giddens does it well.]

ethnobotany

WHO: Beverly Crusher
WHERE: The Inn, her house, fountain square, the spring
WHEN: August 15-20
OPEN TO: every section is OTA
WARNINGS: Mentions of: death, terrorist attacks, being held hostage. She'll be having delirious flashbacks and I'll update warnings as needed based on threads.

August 15th is mostly a normal day for Beverly. The luncheon is nice, the only difference to her day. Otherwise, she spends the day at the hospital doing her duty or at her house, working in the garden or inside. It's while she's in the garden that she begins to notice how... off she feels. It isn't much at first, though she wobbles a bit when she tries to move and can often be found leaning over with her hands on her thighs and her eyes closed. Sometimes she's even very obviously leaning against the fence itself for support, and she isn't entirely sure she can manage to make it through.

Eventually, she manages to get back into the house. Just inside the door, she calls out, "Jean-Luc―" and falls to her knees on the floor.

The 16th hits her hard. Visitors may be welcome to stop by while she's sick, but she may or may not be lucid. During those lucid moments, she's chilled and feverish and very obviously ill, but she can at least hold a decent conversation. When she isn't lucid... less than pleasant may not accurately describe her condition. She paces when she can pull herself out of bed, and when Jean-Luc will allow her to. While stuck in bed, she rolls and tosses, not entirely aware of her surroundings, and can be heard mentioning something called the "Ansata" or "Cardassians" with a tone of distate mixed with fear. Someone lucky might even hear "Q" in a tone of quiet loathing. The unlucky may hear something else in a tone of cold and very real fear: "It's the Borg."

Early on the 17th, she starts escaping. It's never for long, but any time Jean-Luc needs to use the bathroom or make tea or food or check on her garden or even closes his eyes for half a second she takes the opportunity to flee. She's fast for someone who's as ill as she is. Clearly there's a lot of built-up energy inside her. Either that or she's literally running on empty and will drop to the ground in the next instant. Either way, she ends up in places like the Inn or fountain square. One time, she even makes it to the spring, where she ends up cooling herself off by swallowing a bit of it at some point. By the end of the day, she's back in bed.

For the 18th and 19th, she stays in bed for any visitors who might want to come by again, but this time Jean-Luc is stricter about her confinement. It's just as well, though she isn't in any frame of mind and hasn't the strength to escape again. By the 20th she has miraculously recovered and after lunch, she heads back to the Inn to see if she can find anyone who visited or might have heard that she was ill so she can reassure them that she's fine.

fishermansweater

WHO: Finnick Odair + his peacock
WHERE: The 6I park
WHEN: August 3
OPEN TO: EVERYONE
WARNINGS: Baby peacock being ridiculous. Probably mentions of mental health and anxiety later on.

he's a peacock, a total preener --> fountain park

There's been an escape.

There'd been another aftershock, and after he'd calmed Annie down, Finnick had gone outside to check on the birds, only to find another hole in the fence. He'd thought he'd patched it up before he'd gone back to Annie, but he's come out again to find that Star, the oldest of the peacocks, is on the other side of the fence, and making his determined way down the path towards the village.

Finnick curses and turns, rapidly, to pull open the door of the house and shout in to Annie.

"Star's gotten out, can you check the fence?"

He doesn't wait for an answer, only hopes she's heard him before he's off down the road after the blue and brown bird. Hearing Finnick behind him prompts the bird to take off, skimming low over the bushes at the side of the road and leaving Finnick to chase after him.

They're halfway to the village by the time Star lands again, and the bird doesn't seem inclined to let Finnick catch up. Every time he gets close enough to reach out to catch the bird, Star flutters away out of reach and continues on down the path. They've made it all the way to the park before Star finally stops trying to actually run away and starts contentedly pecking at the grass, looking for something to eat. Finnick gives up the pursuit, too, and sits down on the edge of the fountain.

Perhaps he should consider trying to make some sort of leash or harness for the bird so he can't get away. He always carries some of the nylon cable he'd acquired around with him, so he'd be able to, but he's not sure about whether it's even possible to leash a bird. The propaganda films at home about agriculture in District 10 had never said much about poultry.

While Finnick watches, Star stares at the fountain, then turns around, slowly, holding out its wings, tail held straight up in the air. His tail is quivering, displaying the stubs of feathers that haven't yet grown in.

"You've got a while before you'll make it in the Capitol," Finnick says, eyeing the bird.

chosenbytheocean

WHO: Moana
WHERE: The Forest & The Inn
WHEN: July 5th - 15th
OPEN TO: Closed
WARNINGS: Fighting/Violence most likely...

The Inn - July 5th - 10th

Moana wasn't sure what to make of it. She had found the heart over a week before but hadn't thought to show it to anyone. She kept it in her grandmother's necklace which was now useful as well as a keepsake of the only family member who truly understood her.

She sat on the floor near the fire place. It was to hot to have the fire going but this had been Moana's seat since winter. She saw no reason to change that now. Itiiti, the little piglet, was snuggled against the side of her skirts, enjoying the feel of the grass around his round little body. She looked down at him briefly, smiling before she gently opened her necklace.

The heart dropped lightly into her palm, glowing a familiar green light.

"Why are you here?" She asked the heart as if it might be able to reply back to her. She'd notice that the strength of it's glow had been changing. Right before the earth quake and now she felt that it was dimming. Like a heart beat that was slowly reaching it's end. "Please. Please don't die. I need to return you to where you belong." Moana begged softly, curling her fingers protectively around the stone.

The Forest - July 8th - Bear

She knew that the heart brought trouble, Moana had seen it first hand on two separate occasions, but she hadn't thought that it would happen here. This village, this realm, felt so far removed from the world she knew. Surely no one knew what the heart was or what it could do.

She'd been wrong.

It still brought trouble to it's bearer though it was a little different from before. Moana had been walking through the forest, following behind Itiiti as the little pig sniffed out mushrooms and other eatable roots. She had a small basket with her that was half filled with things that she planned to bring back to the inn. With the crack in the rocks and the damage to the town, food that could travel seemed more important than before.

Her fingers sank into the earth as she dug up a handful of fungi. Itiiti bumped her elbow, sending Moana face first into the dirt. Her necklace popped open as she hit the ground and the glowing green heart rolled out of it's hiding place. Moana pushed herself up and reached for the stone. When she her fingers touched the smooth surface of the Heart she heard a roar echo threw the forest. The ground trembled and she thought it was another aftershock of the quake. It wasn't. The trees parted and a large black bear lumbered into view.

"Itiiti Run!" The piglet didn't need to be told twice. He squealed and took off into the woods. For anyone who ran into Itiiti he'd be too frightened to lead you back to his owner.

Moana scrabbled to her feet, wondering if she'd somehow stumble onto the bears home. Her basket of roots and mushrooms had fallen over and now sat a few feet to her left. Against all logical reason she reached down to try and gather up the food back into the basket. "Please stay away." Moana was used to monsters that could understand her and talk. She's never seen a bear before.

The Inn - July 15th
Place Holder. ooc: Heart looses it's glow. Unsure if Moana will have traveled to 7i by then or not. Pending how the meeting on July 10th goes. She wants to see the ocean as soon as she can. ~~And try to get a boat there so that she can try and sail across the ocean.~~ I might also have another prompt up where Moana is being chased by wolves on the 11th or 12th if anyone is interested in that.

teen_angst_bullshit

WHO: Veronica Sawyer
WHERE: The River & Various
WHEN: June 23-25
OPEN TO: ALL, Kira & Nerys
WARNINGS: n/a

[OTA]

Dear Diary,

It's really fucking hot.

Understatement of the year, Veronica thinks as she stares down at the line, sweat tickling down the back of her scalp to gather at her hairline.

Thinking about going bald, she adds in a looping scrawl. Could start a new village fashion.

The sad truth is that she probably could. With the sun giving them the finger day in and day out, it's surprising people aren't lined up at Kira's door begging him to shear them like the sheep. It might even look cute, now that she considers it—

That's it. She's got to get some kind of relief or she really will hunt down the kitchen shears and do something she'll regret later.

Even at half capacity, the river's still the best option available. Well, unless you want to swim in the fountain, and Veronica's just not that comfortable with the idea of accidentally dog-paddling into somebody fresh arrived to what's beginning to actually feel like hell.

Towel in hand, she abandons the steamy shade of the house and trudges to the river, where she strips all the way to her panties and bra before wading in. No jumping from the dock today, unless you want to break something.

( For Kira & Nerys )

thekittenqueen

WHO: Margaery Tyrell
WHERE: Outside The Police Station
WHEN: 6/18
OPEN TO: All
WARNINGS: None, save animal birth. (Nothing graphic)
STATUS: Open

Margaery had read the book she was given by Kate to prepare for the birth of her cow. Over and over again she had read the words until she had them nearly memorized. She knew what to do in her mind, but when the time came, she found herself at a loss. All she could do was sit back and let nature lead the way. It was a gruesome process, different than she had imagined, but still strangely beautiful. It was only when the calf was finally free and wobbling over the grass that Margaery let out a breath.

She stroked her cow's nose, whispering words of encouragement and praise to her. The hard work was over and she had been as strong as any woman Margaery had known. While her cow rested and regained her strength, Margaery carefully cleaned the calf, another girl and one needing a name (however unwise that might be). They would at least have milk in the village.

She spied someone nearby, watching the three of them in the fields. She beckoned the person over with a warm expression. "Come see."

markwatney

WHO: Mark Watney
WHERE: Fields and nearby
WHEN: 23 May, evening
OPEN TO: OTA
WARNINGS: Poop
STATUS: Open
NOTE: Please don't feel you have to talk to him about plants. I know how boring it can get.

The weather is starting to become a concern.

Now, I really am not a person prone to panic. Things have to be going pretty badly pretty abruptly for me to freak out. But I'm also aware of how nefarious a gradual change can be, and how dangerous to people not paying attention. Personally, I'm not interested in being a lobster in a slow-warming pot.

Then again, maybe I don't have much choice in that.

Point is, it's easier to pay attention to the fact that the sun is taking the opposite path in the sky than that we're getting way too warm too soon for this time of year. (And I could get into why it's implausible that the Earth has actually reversed rotation, including disruptions that would likely end all life, but it's way more boring than it sounds, so I'll just say I'm not buying it.) People are finding ways to cool off, and that's good -- Apart from physical health reasons, we don't get nearly enough opportunities to simply relax and have unfettered fun. The plants we've all been so tending so judiciously, though, don't have the option to take a dip.

The hail was bad enough. The damage was... Well, it wasn't great, obviously, but nothing we couldn't recover from. Assuming, of course, that everything stays relatively predictable. This heat and lack of rain? It isn't predictable.

I've been out in the fields all day today, even longer than normal, taking notes and measurements, doing what I can to ensure the plants are well fed and watered. We really cannot afford to lose a significant part of this harvest, not with the number of people in the village now. It's tedious, back-breaking work, but it has to be done.

And it's honestly probably a testament to how tedious and back-breaking it is that I am tired and distracted enough that I end up covered in shit. Not metaphorical shit; actual shit, courtesy of a poorly-timed misstep while I was shoveling fertilizer. Manure's coated all along the front of my thighs and torso, splashed up to my neck and chin.

"God damn it," I moan, picking myself up with a wince.

fishermansweater

WHO: E V E R Y O N E
WHERE: The waterfall
WHEN: During the hot weather in late May
OPEN TO: Anyone
WARNINGS: PROBABLY NAKED. cw your warnings in individual threads.
STATUS: Open. THIS IS A MINGLE, have at it, tag around, you know what to do. If you want Finnick, let me know in the comment subject!

He wouldn't actually say it was really hot yet, but it's definitely getting to the sort of temperatures that make Finnick miss swimming. There's no substitute for the sand of a beach underfoot, the reassuring roar of the surf, the taste of salt in the air, but there is at least water here, tumbling down from the waterfall and flowing through the canyon until it disappears into the rocks to the south. And he knows from constantly checking his fish traps that the water is deliciously cool.

He's tested out a few spots along the river for swimming, and it's good to be in the water again, after being kept out of it for so long by the harshness of the winter. Not swimming doesn't feel right to him, and it never has. He's never spent this long somewhere with a winter this cold, and he can't remember ever going this long without swimming. So Finnick's been testing the water out since before it was probably what most people would consider to be warm enough to swim. It had helped that he and Annie had some gifts to hunt for in the river, but those have long been found, and now it's just for relaxation.

The calmest, most relaxing place he's found so far for swimming in the river is the pool at the foot of the waterfall, where the water plunges into the canyon crisp and cool from the heights of the cliffs. It's deep around the falls, and it's big enough to swim, and Finnick spends most of the hottest parts of the day there.

So whenever he hears someone talking about the heat while he's dropping food off in the village, he suggests they try the waterfall pool. Word's likely to get around, so he won't be entirely surprised to find other people stopping by the falls.

When they do, they're likely to find him swimming around the deep part near the falls, stripped down to his underwear and, from the grin on his face, having the time of his life. It's clear just from looking at him that he's good at this, moving through the water with a confidence and grace more like to a sea-creature than a man. He's in such a good mood that he even calls out to greet many of the people who approach.

Of course, he's not the guardian of the waterfall: everyone's welcome to stop by whether he's there or not. Once or twice, there's even a moose to be seen standing at the edge of the pool taking a long, relaxing drink.

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."

3ofswords

WHO: Kira
WHERE: Anywhere between the canyon walls and the edges of the Village; The Fountain
WHEN: Evening/Sunset, March 15
OPEN TO: All
WARNINGS: Flying insects with intent to harm
STATUS: Now closed to new threads

the woods

If not for the cloud of insects herding him, Kira isn’t sure how long it would have taken him to find the village again. His cards were back in the woods, somewhere in the fog, and the creatures spared him no time to choose directions--only cut him off in glowing streaks, stretching across openings in the trees until he was forced to turn for another. Once he was darting in what seemed the acceptable direction, they would pull back into their teeming mass, gather, and dive at him again, on an arc that dragged the ugly, static noise of them terrifyingly close to his head.

He’d dreamed of being consumed in a roar of fire, concussive heat, for a third of his life. They should only be fireflies, should only cast small lights in the fog, but at every cluster and pass, there was fire in their glow, a roar in their wings, a prickling terror. He wondered if their touch might burn, if their rounded bodies hid sharper parts.

They’d been pretty, like the lush moss around the spring, when he’d found them in the narrow cave. His exploration of the foggy woods had taken him north and west, until the dirt had become chipped stone, and his hands were touching the cold surface of the walls. Trailing along it, hoping to find the river and follow it home, he’d come across a natural crack--some feat of water and winter cold--that he’d just been able to slip inside. The passage had carried on to a slight corner, starting to widen, and the blue-dark walls had been dotted with winking lights like a night sky.

Kira had stood transfixed, another moment to wonder if there weren’t small rewards in the shit-river they were swimming against the current of--until the lights had drifted from the walls, forming the buzzing cloud he now ran from.

When he’d backed out of the narrow passage and into the open, the fireflies had streamed out after, and he’d lost his coat fending off their first attack. Sweeping it through their ranks had bought him a few moments of time, but had cost him the protective layer, his knife, and his cards. Down to his dark scrubs, he’d bolted into the forest, dodging and pushing himself around trees as they appeared through the fog. The paths this far out were unclear, but they seemed intent to steer him in some direction--perhaps the river, perhaps home. All he could hope was that a shelter or body of water was on their trajectory, and that his aching legs and lungs didn’t drag him down before he found it.

the fountain

As the sun sets against the blooming canopy, new leaves briefly gold above the fog, Kira breaks the trees at the edge of the fountain path. His faded scrubs are torn by branches, his hair damp with fog and sweat. His bare arms are striped with scratches and scrapes, but he still flees the dreaded burn or bite of the insects, the cloud of them building behind him in a final coil before a strike.

With one backwards glance, he carries on his breathless momentum, dragging one cold and cutting breath into his lungs before he pushes himself up, a long leap over the stone lip of the fountain, crashing through the water in a splash that reaches up as the fireflies swipe down. Lungs already popping from the exertion, he snatches only moments of cold sanctuary before he breaks the surface with a gasp, but the insects are already following their arc up into the sky, dispersing out over the trees.

The water is too cold for comfort, a shock to his exhausted body, but he makes no immediate move to pull himself out. He sucks down another stinging breath, letting himself float on his back, staring at a lone star appearing against the purples and reds of sunset. “What the fuck,” he sighs in the exhale, body slipping higher and lower in the rippling water as he catches his breath.

[Feel free to join his flight from the fireflies in the first part, or find him in the fountain in the second; again, if you want to use this as an opportunity to get stung, feel free, but Kira is bite-free.]

seekingvinland

WHO: Thorfinn Karlsefni
WHERE: The woods / House 8 / The Inn
WHEN: Valentine's Day And the 15th
OPEN TO: Thor then Everyone!
WARNINGS: Minor lightning injuries, bodily injury, cursing.
STATUS: Open!

Closed to Thor

It had been a little over a week since Thorfinn had come to realize Jo was really and truly gone. He was alone in the house he once shared with them. He was only slightly hopeful her and Kol would return, hope had never really gotten him far in life. So he went on like all was normal, purposely navigating away from questions of Jo or Kol, at least with Kol he was used to people not seeing the vampire around, but Jo was a known person in the little community. He knew he would have to handle it in time, but for now he wanted a sense of normalcy, so he returned to the woods daily felling trees and hunting.

Today, he had met with Thor with splitting some logs. The sight of the god always raised his spirits a bit, he knew he had been lacking in leaving tribute but he had been just to tired of late to go looking for more goats.

"Truly?" He asked in response to something the man had spoke. Lifting the axe up once more about to swing down hard but, faster than he could react he felt something at first tingle then everything shifted. A ball had floated up beside the axe, the crackle of eletricity flowing into head of the axe, and down the outside of the wood into Thorfinn's hands and down his arms before he could even drop the axe.

He didn't remember screaming, only the agony of the energy surging through him, at the same time that he screamed the fire swirled around him escaping with a moment of loss of control. Luckily the flames didn't last long. His knee's buckled as he started to tumble down, his brown eyes wide as his mind tried to process what just happened, as he looked at Thor as he started to fall.

"...What the fuck, Thor."

Had he offended with a lack of goat tribute?

House 8
The next thing Thorfinn knew he was in his house, laying in bed, the ends of his hair were charred, as was his tunic sleeves, Kate was going to be so pissed at him. He wasn't sure how long he had been out cold but forcing himself to sit up, his arms ached in a horrible way. Lifting his right arm he saw the strangest marks he had ever seen before, just under the burns on both wrists were patterns going up to his elbows, it looked like lightning laced over his mesh of scars.

He tipped his head a bit, his head still ached like the rest of his body. Realizing he was home he knew someone had to of brought him home. But who? Was it Thor? He shifted to try and get out of bed.

Feb 15th, The Inn
Thorfinn knew he was supposed to rest, but he was so bad at resting. It was around noon when he made his way across the back yard into the inn, with a small box under his aching arm. He moved over to Jo's book's despite the pain, he leaned over the table, setting down the box and opened it to a blank page. He started to jot a note in runes on the page.

What was different was that he had the sleeveless shirt from the summer on, his cloak just draped over his shoulders so his new found Lichtenberg scars were noticeable, but what stood out more than that, his long hair was gone. He had taken one of his knives when he woke in the morning and sheered the locks off. Cut unevenly and badly leaving only about an inch and a half in some places, and two in others it was a bad cut, but he had tried. The charcoal in his hand was a little unsteady, his nerves weren't acting as they should, he had been shaking a bit but not from fear, the longer he stood the worse his headache got as well, but Jo would have wanted the book written in.

thekittenqueen

WHO: Margaery Tyrell
WHERE: Bungalows #58, #4
WHEN: Feb 12th
OPEN TO: Logan, All
WARNINGS: Injuries, the fallout from being struck by lightening
STATUS: Open during the aftermath

I. [Closed to Logan]

( Read more... )

II. [Open]

She had been seen and received treatment. While the injuries were minor, her mind still whirred, raising anxiety in her. The burns hadn't been severe, but they left her trembling and afraid. She kept her mind from drifting back to Westeros, focused on every small detail of her room. The feel of her mattress beneath her, the cold in the air and the sound of the bungalow settling.

It took a great deal for her to remain in bed. Gilbert rested at her side, his soft fur a sweet balm to her burned skin. Finally her heart had settled in her chest and she could breathe once more. Her eyes trailed over her room, bored and restless.

She wouldn't remain in bed for long, not if she had her way.

Sixth Iteration

Logs

Entries tagged with star trek: kira nerys

Credits & Style Info

And Every Stranger's Face I See Reminds Me That I Long to Be Homeward Bound

[EVENT] The Simulation Ends

Tossed about in the storm

don't chase the rabbit

009 Snowball Fight [OPEN MINGLE LOG]

[EVENT - MINGLE] Home for the Holidays

[MINGLE] Harvest Feast 🍂

bye bye baby

they lost their former dye - autumn equinox [Mark, OTA]

i wear my heart on my shirt

ψ I knew you were trouble when you walked in | OPEN

10 - The Heart of Te Fiti [OPEN]

The Inn - July 5th - 10th

The Forest - July 8th - Bear

Gonna burn those blue suede shoes; [OTA & 2 Closed Starters]

So Comes New Life

Half a proper gardener’s work is done upon his knees [OTA]

ψ come away little lass come away to the water | SWIMMING MINGLE OTA

[Mingle OTA] Spring Feast

[ota] i kept running for a soft place to fall

Ride The Lightning

It Comes Crashing Down