Credits & Style Info

seekingvinland: (emotionally compromised)
[personal profile] seekingvinland
WHO: Thorfinn Thorsson
WHERE: The Fountain & The Inn
WHEN: 3/16
OPEN TO: OTA
WARNINGS: None
NOTES: a heads up Thorfinn has been updated and wiped clean of his CRAU and chunks of his memories are gone. His English will be much more broken because of this.
STATUS: Open!



The Fountain
Two days before, Thorfinn had left into the woods to hunt, nothing unusual for him, he tended to keep to himself a lot more than he had in the past since Jo vanished. His solidarity became more profound once her belongings had been distributed. What was different was he didn't return that night, or the next. The fire had long gone out in his hold and everything was cold. His cloak was not hanging by the door and his boots were gone. Signs he was not home. No lights at night was also a good sign.

It was mid morning when His eyes snapped open and he felt the freezing waters around him, like a shock to his system he pushed hard for the surface, just as he had done the first time. Memories over memories. Odense. He was supposed to be going to Odense He had left Karli with Einar and the others, promising to be in Odense in four days.... it was nearly a week later and he now here he was bursting through the cold ass water as he gasp grabbing the edge of the fountain yanking himself off and over. When he hit the ground the first thing he noticed was that he was in his scrubs, not the clothes he had been wearing. His cloak no where around him, shivering he pushed himself up.

"Hver fjandinn .... hvernig er ég aftur hingað?"

He moved away from the fountain slower than he might normally move the cold shooting right to his joints and old injuries. He didn't head home, but down the streets shivering, the water in his hair already starting to freeze.

Claire had cut his hair just a few weeks before, after he had been struck by lightning and now wet it looked longer than it seemed just days before.

The Inn

Pushing the door open he made his way inside shivering. It had already been well into spring, damn near summer last he remembered, it was strange with the overlapping memories. Running from a psychotic kid trying to force him to fight, having Vagn's head thrown at him by the same kid... Vagn, another soul gone because of him. His father's friend... Floki had to be behind it...

He shuttered with the cold as his thoughts raced, moving quickly inside to get near the fireplace. Still shivering. He had been lucky last time to come through while it was hot out.

"Cougar...Peggy...Kate...Margaery...Jake...Veeronika." He started muttering the names of those he remembered best. Something was wrong and he knew it, he could feel it deep in his marrow. When he had been home he had remembered nothing of this place, he prayed it would be the same, otherwise his friends and family were in deep trouble.

He was huddled near the fire, cold and dripping, staring into the flames. Something was wrong. Why had he gone back through the fountain?
seekingvinland: (flying!)
[personal profile] 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.
seekingvinland: made by <user name="Opticon"> (pain)
[personal profile] seekingvinland
WHO: Thorfinn Thorsson
WHERE: The Inn, The streets, House 22, House 4.
WHEN: January 19th
OPEN TO: OTA, except the threads for house 22 and house 4, which are only open to its occupants.
WARNINGS: descriptions of depression, and hallucinations.
STATUS: Open



House 8/The Inn
Thorfinn had not yet kicked out of the return of his old anti-social ways. Of late he would even walk past his friends with little more than a nod of his head. He didn't feel worthy of the friends he had. It had gotten to the point of late that he slept in everyday until around noon, staying up all hours of the night sitting in the living room whittling things by the firelight. He didn't want to be a bother to anyone. It was near dawn when he had let himself sleep, draped across the couch where he stayed until well into the afternoon when his nightmares brought him up screaming.

He pushed himself up and got changed into something warmer before latching his cloak on. Checking on the fire before he left he made his way out the back door towards the inn. Since the shakes days before had returned he was curious to see if everyone was okay, but he also wasn't sure if he should. He could already hear people were inside and smell the food from within. He rarely came to lunch either, but today he did. His hair hanging loose around his shoulders, still a bit staticy from sleep, with the hat Cougar had gifted for the holiday over his messy hair, pulled down, and the mjolnir necklace Vee had gifted around his neck.

He moved silently getting something to eat before moving off to a quiet corner to sit, putting his bag down beside him and he started to eat, the hat pulled down a bit more. He liked the hat more than he should likely admit.




Walking to House 22
Thorfinn rarely went to people's houses, at least not inside anyway. So, when he left the inn he knew exactly where he was going. He had not made an effort to go to the blacksmith in a few days and through he knew he should go check on what mess it might be he didn't, he just made the walk down the streets heading to house #22. The bag held on his forearm by the straps, as he had his cloak pulled closed against him, moving against the chilly breeze, the snow still crunching under his feet.

He watched the snow fall around him, looking up now and then from under the brim of the hat. One thing that always amazed him, no matter how cold it was he was always loved the sight of pure snow falling. The beauty of the flakes as they rained down. Every now and then he would stop and just watch them, at least until he started to see things moving out of the corner of his eyes, pale graying fingers coming up out of the snow.

He would move quickly as soon as he noticed it, muttering low. "Nei nei, vinsamlegast, ekki núna"




Closed to Cougar (And/or Jake and Vee)
Reaching the house, he walked up on the porch, kicking his boots against the top of the stairs to knock the snow off before he moved to knock on the door. He didn't know why he felt so odd making a visit to the home of a friend. He usually loved spending time with Cougar, and even Jake and Vee, and yet and still he felt awkward as he stood there.

He pondered turning and going but he had already knocked and that seemed even more rude.



Closed to Claire and Margaery
It was into the evening when Thorfinn was making his way home from the woods, he had gone from Cougar's house on into the woods to kill some time. Making his way back he had managed to catch two hares. He knew he should likely take both home, but as he made his way down the way he thought of Margaery and her new friend. It was close, so it was no harm.

Dropping his bag in the snow he made his way up the stairs careful not to trip. He wasn't sure if it was to late to be calling, but he was in better spirits after seeing his friends and it seemed the best time to drop off a gift. So he knocked waiting holding the fresh kill by its ears, he looked down the way to his home already lit up, clearly someone had returned.
seekingvinland: (PB - shirtless)
[personal profile] seekingvinland
WHO: Thorfinn Thorsson
WHERE: Around the Village, and the roof of the Blacksmith
WHEN: January 4th
OPEN TO: OTA
WARNINGS: Mentions of Depression and deliousions.
STATUS: Open



A: Around the village
The day started like any other for Thorfinn, screaming nightmares and jolting awake. He had hung around the house making sure to get the fire going extra hot between dosing on the couch. The furnace was fixed but he preferred the fire place. Once again he had been pulling back from people, becoming more quiet keeping to himself. As more people came the less he felt he needed to go and try to be out going. There was plenty of people to keep other's company and he was just blue despite how beautiful their prison was covered in blankets of pure white.

When he finally pushed himself up and got dressed properly to head out he didn't bother braiding his hair. He hadn't been braiding it much since the gift's arrived. Just a old feeling he thought he was past had worked its way back into him, the guilt and the endless tired that overtook him before he met Einar was returning. All he wanted to do of late was sleep. Sleep was never easy, sleep brought bad dreams. He felt like he wasn't really living his own life, so much of the time these days. Like he was watching someone else live his life while he floated above.

He pulled one of his new cloaks on, with the half hood that Sansa had gifted him, knives in place he set out to go to the blacksmith, his head hung a bit as he moved through the snow towards the building, the wind nipping at his skin made it a little more miserable, but he didn't mind it, he didn't feel it like he was sure he should. The cold never really bothered him that much.

What did was the fact he could see something moving out of the corner of his eye. He kept his head down and moved quicker down the street a brisk walk but not watching where he was going, trying to not see what he knew he saw.



B: The Blacksmith late night
Thorfinn had not returned home that day, having wandered around a bit, before eventually going to the Blacksmith as he had intended, smelting the bogiron he figured the other's would do. He had more or less given up on the project the deeper they got into winter, but it was still his favorite place to go when he wanted to get away from the noise of people. It was only after the sunset and everything got quiet that he found a way to pull himself on the roof the way he used to when he lived with Jo at the Waverly back when it was just to hot for him to deal with the building. His reasoning had nothing to do with heat. His new found powers seemed to help with that.

No. it was the lights in the sky that made him lay back across the roof watching the colors dance across the sky. He was utterly homesick and the lights made it so much worse. His mind drifting back.

'Father, Mr. Leif said we ran away here'
'That is what is said.'
'So if someone wants to run from here… where do they go?'


The look on his father's face that night had stuck with him, while the family buried a dead slave they had saved under the aurora. He missed his father, he hated that it took him so long to get what the man had been trying to teach him.
chosenbytheocean: (It's calling me)
[personal profile] chosenbytheocean
WHO: Moana
WHERE: Fountain/Docks/Around
WHEN: December 27th
OPEN TO: ALL ARE WELCOME!
WARNINGS: Mentions of almost drowning…
STATUS: Closed




Prompt i - Waking )

Prompt ii - Wandering )

Prompt iii - Water! )
seekingvinland: (PB - shirtless)
[personal profile] seekingvinland
WHO: Thorfinn
WHERE: The woods, The blacksmith.
WHEN: December 13th
OPEN TO: OTA
WARNINGS: Nothing yet, will update if needed, though its Thorfinn so bad language might just be in norse.
STATUS: Open


The woods
Just like any normal day, Thorfinn was up before the sun. A sad welcome home to Jo. The resident screaming alarm clock hadn't changed that much. He felt bad for waking them, he always felt bad when it happened. He dressed quickly, pulling the multiple layers and then the cloak Kate had made on, and set about heading off into the woods. He no longer worried about any thing happening to him. It was a touch dangerous but it was also truer to himself than he had allowed himself to be for a long time. Since he had taken his oath of non-violence. He feared nothing in the woods with the horrible gift he had received. If something tried to attack either it or he would die. A sad end to a story, but it was how he felt of late.

He spent most of the morning into late afternoon felling and chopping up a tree to make it easier to drag home and split into lumber to use at home. The colder it got the more the need grew. Not just for his home but for others, which was why he left almost all of it sitting out back, easily seen to be taken. Kate was given permission as he owed her for the cloak, but still he didn't care who took from the wood pile. He and his would make due, and he would keep working through the winter.

The Blacksmith

Coming by again, he made his way inside, dropping some wood to feed the fire for the forge in case the new Stark came back to mess with it. He checked out first to make sure no one was around before pulling the door shut and taking his cloak off. His long hair was hanging loose today but mostly confined under the cloak. It was staticy when he tossed it aside. Walking across the room he sat down beside the wood pile and took a deep breath. holding his hands out he pushed his sleeves up and, then he let the breath out and watched flames start to dance around his fingers.

It hadn't gone away yet, nearly a week and he was still trying to hide it. Forever secretive when it came to himself. Reaching one of one of the split logs he had brought with him he held it in his hands watching it start to burn as he held it. He knew he should get the forge fire going and see if he could get it to temperature without relying on the charcoal, but honestly he was scared of what that meant for him.

"Faðir, hvað er að gerast við mig?"

He spoke as he did often when he thought he was alone, he spoke his now language.

OTA

Dec. 12th, 2016 08:08 pm
thecatinahat: (smug)
[personal profile] thecatinahat
WHO: Cougar Alvarez
WHERE: Outside the Inn
WHEN: December 12th, after the meeting
OPEN TO: OTA
WARNINGS: n/a
STATUS: Open



After the hunting, the wendigo, and the meeting, Cougar's energy is running low. It's not so low that when he comes across a strange box with his name on it that he ignores it, though, even if there's a part of him that does wait and takes his time, because the last thing he wants is a bomb going off just because he's let his guard down. Still, the box isn't ticking when he holds it up to his ear and it's no different than the last (though the last time he got something, he also lost his memory for the next three weeks).

Too exhausted to care, he opens it up and his eyes light up for the first time since the feast. Inside is a rainbow of candies, from nerds to pop rocks, twizzlers and jelly beans, and under it some lollipops and chocolate kisses. He could just be tired and cold, but the sight of it makes him let out a grateful sob of relief, not sure where he wants to go first, but he's starving and thinks he can't be faulted for jamming four kisses into his mouth for the sheer chocolate rush that causes.

When he gets a minute to calm himself, Cougar sets himself down on the stoop of the inn with his new treasure, rifling through like there'll be some message at the bottom. There isn't, though, which means that it has nothing to do with the hunt. Right now, though, he has to ration these, because if Jake finds out that he got candy and didn't share, he might be in the market for a new home soon, even after so long a day.

When he hears the door open behind him, Cougar glances over his shoulder while unwrapping one of the lollipops, jamming it in his cheek and raising his brow in greeting, nudging his hat up just enough to offer a brief moment of eye contact.
thecatinahat: (tip of the hat)
[personal profile] thecatinahat
WHO: Cougar Alvarez & The Hunting Party
WHERE: The Inn
WHEN: December 12th
OPEN TO: All - jump in wherever it suits!
WARNINGS: Discussion of violence
STATUS: Open



In a way, the village is strangely like coming home even though it's not one that Cougar would ever have claimed. Maybe it's not that he's relieved to see the village, but just that he's relieved that the long hike back with a heavy, eight foot beast on his shoulders that reeks and makes him smell awful has been wearing on his last nerve, making his patience dwindle to the point that when the inn comes into sight, it's a good thing, otherwise Cougar might have killed the first thing they came across.

The beast is large and looming and he's inclined to believe Helen's theory that this is what killed the animals and Karen. The rest of what they've found is equally as confusing, but given the amount of people they seem to be attracting given their cargo and the smell, Cougar doubts they'll have any trouble rallying the troops to discuss it.

He hefts up the animal over his shoulder for the last few feet into the inn when the door is held open for him, heaving it off his shoulders so it collapses on the floor. Cougar digs out his hat from his back pocket, sliding it on his head, and glancing over his shoulder at the people who have come in. He tips his hat to them as he glances back at the creature, bending down to haul the arrow out of the thing's eye, because he'd carved this one himself. "It's dead," he offers in a rough deadpan, the sarcasm dryer than some of the winter days.

Sniffing himself, he grimaces and heads off to the corner with one last jut of his thumb towards the group. "They know more." And with that, he heads upstairs to try and get some of the awful smell off and to wrap up the bruise on his chest, just in case.
seekingvinland: (fuck that)
[personal profile] seekingvinland
WHO: Thorfinn Thorsson
WHERE: Out back of House 8, in sight of the inn.
WHEN:November 8th
OPEN TO: OTA
WARNINGS: Cursing, and fire.
STATUS: Open



It had been nearly two weeks since Jo left. Part of what bothered him the most was he didn't even recall if he had spoken to her before she left. He had still been pretty drunk when he handed her the elk fur cloak he had managed to fashion together himself with some rawhide string and a knife. It had been planned as a gift for Yule but given before she left. He had to of been somewhat awake before she left to give her that. But he couldn't remember it at all. He just knew it was gone, Jo was gone, and then a box with her name on it arrived.

Finding Karen's shoe, and the meeting did little to improve his dark morose moods. He blamed himself for the death of a woman he didn't know. Maybe if he hadn't been drunk he might have heard whatever happened, been some kind of help but no. He had been inside, doing what every other bloody Norsemen does. He understood Askeladd in times like these, how he could hate something he was. It was a terrible feeling at times how much he had come to understand the man who ruined his life. Or hearing the echoing of Canute's words 'You talk like Askeladd now. Maybe Four years is long enough to change a man's nature.' Thorfinn knew the truth of it though, he had not changed, not really he just found better ways to take his aggression out.

Like he was at the moment.

The wood pile was all around him. The usual bit of stump used to split the logs. But he was bringing the axe down harder and harder, The handle he had fashioned threatened to split with the force he was using. Sending each chunk of wood flying. He was angry at everything around him. Mostly at himself for letting his anger grow that high. So many things he had done wrong. So many things he could do better. Swinging the ax down hard again a crack was heard as the handle finally gave way, and with it Thorfinn finally screamed with the rage he had been holding back for days, turning on one foot to kick the half split log off of the stump. AS he did there was a fizzle then a pop. The wood around him started to lick up with flames. The flames starting to roll up Thorfinn's arms as he took heavy breaths. A moment, just a moment before he realized, one, he was suddenly on fire, at least his arms and it wasn't burning him... and the wood was burning.

"WHAT THE FUCK?" He called out loud in Norse backing up. Luckily the wood was too wet to keep burning. The snow falling didn't help either but as Thorfinn's arms slowly went out he was still backing away from the wood pile with terror racing through him.
seekingvinland: made by <user name="Opticon"> (serious)
[personal profile] seekingvinland
WHO: Thorfinn Thorsson
WHERE: The Inn
WHEN: Backdated to November 30th. (Becuase I suck)
OPEN TO: OTA
WARNINGS: Mentions of death.
STATUS: Open



When Thorfinn heads into the woods most days early he can be found working around the village now and then but more often than not in the days since he woke up hung over and told of Karen's death and that Jo was off hunting with a party he had not been in the best mood. Days of quiet brooding while he worked. He came before lunch was served today. Stomping through the village holding something clearly not his. A boot that was to small to belong to him.

Pushing the inn doors open he sits the axe against the door in making his way inside like a whirlwind of loose blonde hair and grey colors. Moving past the main room he went right to the kitchens where he assumed Kate and the other's would be at this time.

"Kate!" He called out in his heavy accent. He more or less considered her to be the village cheiftan, she fed everyone she called meetings. Stepping up to the counter he slammed the boot down for all to see. "I found it." He knew her shoe had been missing, it had been mentioned to him when he was still trying to gather himself together the morning after Karen's death. He didn't know what it meant, why her shoe was off in the woods, but he knew it was his job to make sure everyone knew.
lastofthekellys: (watch them burn)
[personal profile] lastofthekellys
WHO: Kate Kelly
WHERE: The Inn
WHEN: 24th November
OPEN TO: E V E R Y O N E
WARNINGS: TBA
STATUS: OPEN




Aside from the days when she'd been too drunk or too hungover to get up, Kate's kept a farmer's hours all her life. Even in winter, when the bitterly cold winds that'd come up from the south and make its way through the cracks and holes in her ma's hut, she'd get up, get dressed, do her chores. But lately, it's been harder to extract herself from her bed. Benedict's been sharing her bed more often than not lately, and the chasteness of their interactions does nothing to change how warm and safe she feels. How little she wants to get up, get dressed, go out into the colder spaces of the Inn and do her work.

So, today, she's late getting out of bed - at least, by her standards. She's late getting down the stairs. She's late, so she's hurrying; she lazed in bed, and now she needs to start the fire in the main room. Start the fire, open the shutters, show that the Inn is standing and warm. And welcome, so she moves the -

No, Kate doesn't move the chairs stacked precariously at the front door as a rudimentary alarm of someone, something, coming through, because the chairs are gone. She neither dismisses it as one of the residents not getting the message, nor panics. Instead, she just opens the shutters to let in the dawn light and see if there are footprints, except, no, the snow has mostly cleared. The day is sunny. As welcome as it is, that doesn't help at all. Miss Hoppity jumps down from the foyer's desk to rub her face against Kate's skirt, apparently entirely unconcerned.

Kate eyes the cat for a moment, then approaches the closed doors leading to the main room. Closed, but with light coming through the cracks between door and floor, door and door frame. Cautiously, Kate opens one of the doors and peers in.

Then, she gapes.

The fire is blazing - hot, cheery - but so are the candles. The candles: candles on the unused candlesticks, candles clustered on tables, light up sideboards. Candles bobbing in bowls of water and apples. Candles white, yellow and red, when the village had none. Boughs of wheat, corn, decorate tables and the mantle over the fire, apples and pumpkins and collections of yellow, orange, red flowers seem to be everywhere.

And the food.

Each table is piled high with food. Roasted, baked, cooked on stoves and Kate knows how to cook, she knows how long this would all take, how many people, and it's impossible. What she's seeing is impossible to have done with the resources on hand: even an attempt would have woken up the whole building.

Disbelieving, Kate walks in. For a moment, she's entirely dumbfounded. Miss Hoppity, however, is nothing of the sort. The cat has leapt up onto the sideboard next to Kate and - well, Kate isn't sure what happens next. Just that suddenly there's movement and something large seems to lunge at her. Miss Hoppity yowls and speeds off: Kate screams as she battles something, falling backwards and hitting the floor along with a broken bowl of water, spilled apples and some tiny candles, and her attacker.

Pushing the food-turkey off her, Kate sits up and is, for once, entirely lost for words.
fe_male: and I can live on science alone (misc: I am a scientist)
[personal profile] fe_male
WHO: Tony Stark
WHERE: Blacksmithy
WHEN: Prob like Nov 16 to Nov 23? Flexible rn until i get more input.
OPEN TO: Annie Cresta, Sam Wilson, others.
WARNINGS: I doubt it but I'll edit if that somehow comes up.
STATUS: Closed twice, open otherwise. not that. there's that much of a difference



(484): I'm taking a shower and i'm gonna bring my pocketknife with me )

Two by Two

Nov. 20th, 2016 05:57 pm
thekittenqueen: ([Margaery] Walks Away)
[personal profile] thekittenqueen
WHO: Margaery and You!
WHERE: The woods, the police station
WHEN: Nov 20th
OPEN TO: All
WARNINGS: Mentions of animal deaths
STATUS: Open



With the onset of winter and the heavy snow fall, the village seemed to be bracing itself for a rough coming season. Now that there was an influx of new arrivals, Margaery felt a bit on edge on what could be provided for the entire village. There was not enough wool alone to supply for everyone. She would need more sheep, and if she had any hope of giving milk to the village, she would need more goats and cows. There were still farm animals in the woods, many that might not survive the cold. She could at least provide them a home and continue her trade with the village.

After recruiting several volunteers, she ventured into the woods, easily finding the animals where they were last. With more hands to assist her, she began to herd the livestock back towards the village and to the police station.

"Thank you for your help," she said, offering a warm smile. "It's a bit tedious and difficult on your own."
seekingvinland: made by <user name="Opticon"> (scream o'clock)
[personal profile] seekingvinland
WHO: Thorfinn
WHERE: House #8 and around the Village
WHEN: November 17th.
OPEN TO: OTA except for one closed at the end.
WARNINGS: The link to his nightmare mentions zombies and cliff falling.
STATUS: Open


House #8, Early morning.
A loud scream ripped through the house, followed just seconds later by the loud scream of a name 'Arneis' screamed loud through the night air, his window as always was opened so the scream tore through the night as well. The normally quiet man was loudest at night when his dreams would attack him in ways most people never could.

He had shot up in bed and was sitting up panting holding his chest not yet noticing the tears rolling down his cheeks. He never in his darkest thoughts thought the terrors of night would bring his departed friend into them. Seeing her face unmarred by her horrid death hurt so much worse than the dead touching him as they always did. His throat burned yet again and all he could do was stare off into space trying to force it all back down. Not yet realizing his roommates were in the room with him around his bed.

House #8, Back yard, mid afternoon.
Thorfinn never got back to sleep that morning. Instead he worked on getting soap made and stretching the useless pelts to be rawhide. The cellar had lots of his little projects littering it. The cellar had mostly become where Thorfinn worked so he wouldn't leave a mess or blood around the house. Today he wasn't down in the cellar but in the back yard splitting logs into firewood. He was gaining well defined sleeplines on his face. He knew a day would come where he would just sleep through a day no matter how bad the nightmares were. He had no time for that right now, he was very busy. Or at least he always said. His hair was twisted up funny with two smoothed bits of branch holding it in place. He didnt take the time to braid it today and had yet to consider making a leather band out of one of his many collected pelts.

Each strike of the axe if loud when he brings it down, putting his strength into it so he doesn't have to swing twice. Despite the elder master warning him before that doing so would tire him out faster, that was what he was doing. When each was cut he pushed it off the stump and moved to the next. With the snow coming down he should have been wearing his coat, but he had tossed it on the porch when he got started. The snow he found better and easier to deal with. He felt more at home with the snow despite the biting cold. At least he was used to it, and no longer sleeping in a pile of hay in this kind of weather.

The Village
Thorfinn almost always kept himself busy but his body was growing tired of the constant running despite his will to keep going. After dragging some lumber home and scavenging for more herbs, which filled his bag on his shoulder he made his way back to the village. It was nearly dark as he made his way through the streets. His hands shoved into the jacket pockets of the strange coat he had taken to wearing since he still had not taken the pelts to be stitched by one of the women yet. His hair was down to protect his ears as he walked.

He knew that people were growing worried with the animal deaths and even Jess had agreed no one should be out at dark alone, Thorfinn didn't care. He refused to be frightened even when he knew there was danger. He walked alone as he always had. Tromping through the freshly falling snow.

House 8:closed for Jo and Kol )
thecatinahat: (uncomfy)
[personal profile] thecatinahat
WHO: Cougar Alvarez
WHERE: By the fountain
WHEN: November 15th
OPEN TO: OTA
WARNINGS: Brooding | Adult Content in Jake Log
STATUS: Closed



If anyone is coming up out of the fountain, they're in for a rude surprise.

Days go, like it had been as simple as breathing, all of a sudden Carlos Alvarez vanished and years of awful memories came crashing back into his head. Afghanistan, Bolivia, Los Angeles, and all the deaths and bad calls in between. The worst of it is that Cougar can acutely remember how happy he had been for a few weeks, even if he's sure that Jake is pissed off with him and that Raven and Veronica both have plenty of blackmail material on him.

Now he's heaving heavy rocks into the fountain because he can't even shoot anything, which makes him feel useless. Not only is he useless, but he's back to being unhappy and the last thing he wants to think about is how hard it will be to sleep tonight, after three weeks of peaceful rests and sleeping in with no nightmares to chase him, because the worst thing that had happened in that boys' life had been losing his family for who he'd chosen to be.

As it stands, all he wants to do is throw more into the fountain, the heavier of the rocks straining his muscles, but making him feel it. When he throws the next, though, it doesn't hit the water, but instead goes crashing off the side, tumbling down the side of the fountain and in the direction of the path, having done no damage at all. Seeing a pair of feet on the path just by where the heavy rock had ended up rolling, Cougar nudges his hat up with a thumb and gives a nod to acknowledge them, a shrug, and then a single word.

"Sorry." He lets his gaze slide down. "I didn't hurt you?"
tobeclosetohim: (Oh you asked for it)
[personal profile] tobeclosetohim
WHO: Jo Harvelle, a dead elk, and you!
WHERE: In front of The Inn
WHEN: November 13
OPEN TO: Everyone (Especially those in the inn or close enough to hear!)
WARNINGS: Animal Death's w/ Mutilation, Manipulation, Gore, Blood
STATUS: Open


People have been sticking close to the buildings, to each other, to not being out late after dark if they can help it, and even then, almost never alone. There's a charged air to everything, like a shot about to crack, or like they are strung up and held in a never ending loop on that second of shock the moment after the crack sounds, before the body can relax again.

Mapping has slowed to nothing this week, and Jo's among the many who remind people to be more careful when hunting right now. The Village seeming less and less safe with the animals that had appeared in the wide open of the buildings and fountain, with no one seeing anything, which made the dark, closed in shadows of the forest seems even darker and even more closed in.

She's as much not expecting it as expecting it, whens she opens the door, intending to head to the house she's sharing with Kol and Thorfinn, and there's a huge hulking animal form mountained right in front of the path into and out of the Inn. The same path people walked all day to get food, and everything else.

"Fuck," is revulsion for the smell, black and bloody and something else, the sheer size of the body, the still towering form, with its cracked and somehow dangling antlers, before her hand is tightening on the door still in it and she's calling back inside. "We've got another one!"

Jo goes for the knife in her boot even though there hasn't been an attacked attached to one yet, before she's headed down to the huge beast. It looks like the others have all reported in, and gotten written down by her. Ripped apart by teeth and claws, chunks of flesh hanging here and there, but nothing taken, nothing missing. Limbs twisted and contort in impossible ways, pointing toward the door.

The blood everywhere all around it. On the steps. On porch. On the door.

More like it was thrown than like it sprayed in an attack.

The same as the animal that looks like it was dropped -- no, placed -- so far from where it ever might be found in this place. Leaving Jo looking quickly all around there. The whole wide space of the creeping, settling early night dark of this place.
lastofthekellys: (rabbit and dandelion stew)
[personal profile] lastofthekellys
WHO: Kate Kelly
WHERE: The Inn
WHEN: 7th November | Noon
OPEN TO: E V E R Y O N E
WARNINGS: N/A
STATUS: Open and onging!




Since that first lunch at the Inn, Kate Kelly has kept them up. Every day, without fail - even when she went missing and then was recovering, people continued in the kitchen to make sure the community gets their daily midday meal. She's proud of that, and she thinks she's allowed to be.

Today is no different.

The food is dropped off, the volunteers gather to chop and stir and cook and serve, the community gathers to eat, and then it is time to clean everything. If there is still no alcohol, well...

There's tea. And a coffee substitute made from chicory. And... Water.

So come on in, help at the kitchen or pull up a chair in the pub in front of the fire, and enjoy some warm food and company while the outside cold (and death) stays firmly outside.



[OOC: All sections are completely free for all! You can handwave your character helping out or thread it out, or just jump in to them eating. All characters are ICly invited, as they are every day.]
seekingvinland: (PB - dressed up)
[personal profile] seekingvinland
WHO: Thorfinn
WHERE: Around the Village
WHEN: Saturday, October 29th
OPEN TO: OTA
WARNINGS: None
STATUS: Open!



Thorfinn's day hadn't started well, loud screams ripping through the house until he was pulled out of his sleep by either or both of those he lived with. The nightmares were worse than than had been for a long time, he had sat at the end of his bed staring off into space until he realize what was outside of his open window. Snow. He shot across the room fast taking in a deep breath of the cold air outside. Like a child at yule, it was everything his soul needed.

The cold sticking to his face. He smiled leaning half out the window, it was only when a few snow flakes landed on his bare chest he remembered that it wasn't the best idea. Pulling himself back inside it was time to get to work. Layers. Layers were important in the snow. The long johns pulled on under the outfit chosen for the day. The stained up scrubs pants and the tunic Kate made. He pulled the black wool coat from the back. It wasn't a style he knew but he had asked about it before and pulled it on. He made his way out of the room stopping long enough to clean his face and braid his hair down over his ears to keep them warm. He was already missing a chunk of one, so he tended to style his hair over the ear to hide the fact it was missing a bit.

"Going for wood, we will need more!" He called upstairs before closing the door. he didn't bother making a fire, he was sure Jo or Kol would take care of it if they intended to stay indoors. No sense burning wood if no one would be home. Once he was outside he found himself unbuttoning the coat again. Strange, he expected it to be much colder. The snow was nice though.

Swinging the axe over his shoulder he headed for the woods.

It was around noon when he made his way back from dropping more wood off at home. He was brushing wood chips off himself as he made his way across the village. Trying to decide if he should go to the inn and see how Kate and the other's were holding up, or go to the blacksmith to give forging the Bog iron another try. In the end he just ended up walking with his arms crossed over his chest. Taking in the beauty of the world around him.
seekingvinland: (mad as fuck)
[personal profile] seekingvinland
WHO: Thorfinn Thorsson
WHERE: The Inn, House #8, The River.
WHEN:One Backdated to October 9th // The other for October 13th
OPEN TO: One thread closed to Sam, the rest OTA
WARNINGS: Some heavy cursing in Norse?
STATUS: Open


Backdated to the 9th: Closed to Sam
Once the rain had stopped, Thorfinn had been quick to get back to his daily tasks, he had days to make up for after all. When he came in the afternoon to drop off lumber he heard about the fact Kate and Margaery was missing, and he hadn't seen Margaery that morning, which in itself was strange but he didn't see reason for alarm when they were only out of sight a few hours at most. They had been seen at breakfast then gone after they went into the woods.

If it had been anyone else he would have rolled his eyes and gotten back to work, but it was both Kate and Margaery, and people were going off to look for them. So he watched and listened a few minutes before he looked to the person nearest him, Sam Wilson.

"You want me to go with?" He offered, though still he didn't look too concerned. If it had been a full day he'd be worried, but a few hours was not a big deal in his eyes. Kate was capable, and Margaery was learning.

OTA; Morning October 13th.
cut for length )

OTA: Following the river.
The axe-head was in his bag over his shoulder, but the wheat seeds had been left in his room. Thorfinn got to work quickly on moving to the river to start following it. He was looking for off orange coloring, for signs of bog iron. He wasn't an expert and his lessons on the stuff had been ages ago when he was in Medietas, but, it was something worth looking into. A possibility of getting the smith up and running. He didn't have high hopes on finding the bog iron, but, it was worth a shot to try. Worse come to worse he'd time to find a stick worthy of whittling down into a handle for the axe-head.