EVENT #11.4 / ARRIVAL LOG #029

[larkers]

WHO: Everyone!
WHERE: The Aerie as it ends in an anime-like fashion, New Tokyo, and New Amsterdam
WHEN: August 23, 2512 onward.
WHAT: Event ending, arrivals, and a lot of changes.
NOTES OR WARNINGS: Coercion and loss of autonomy, religious themes.

> EVENT #011.4 / ARRIVAL #029

As suddenly as they all vanished, the people who remained in the Aerie begin to return. These people have not died: instead, they seem to return peacefully after an extremely unusual experience. As the gods are freed, the Aerie begins to take on a different form, radically altered by this decision. The very fabric of reality unravels. It's not that the city continues to grow more and more dilapidated by the moment—instead, the Aerie ceases to exist, dragging everyone who remains within into a joint, out of body experience.

At once, everyone's memories return in full. As they float in what is an open space, they'll recall who they were once before, right alongside their alternate life in the Aerie. Even if they can't see them, they'll begin to feel the others there: not just that they exist, but their emotions: wonder, surprise, irritation, anger, fear, guilt. Somehow, they recognize that they're connected to the billions of living souls there alongside them.

What once seemed like a wide, open space comes to be recognized as a large, vast ocean. They float in the deepest depths of the ocean, and they begin to see sea life swirl around them. Whales. Sharks. The glint of a dying star? There are constellations in the distance, too far to reach. It's hard to say where they are, and impossible to communicate to ask, to try to reach one of the billions of other souls there. When they open their mouths to try, they only make an unintelligible sound. Have they, too, been transformed into those creatures? It seems, at least for a moment, like they're communicating via echolocation.

The constellations begin to burn brighter and brighter. As they touch the people there, they're able to see more clearly around them. There are hundreds upon thousands of animals, all with bright golden eyes. They push through the water quickly, and the gold in their eyes fully illuminates the space around them.

Once that illumination meets a critical mass, everyone begins to experience a different joint vision. From the very start, the experience itself is excruciating: they feel an object, vaguely comprehended, but perceived to be spear-like in nature, slicing into them, tearing them asunder. The misery results in a complete and total division of self: splintered and incomplete, scattered into trillions of tiny pieces.

An indefinite amount of time later, there is a stirring. Everyone feels frigid and cold. The chill is excruciating, but different from what it was before. And then, as if a physical feeling can become an emotion, that chill becomes anger. And then that rage starts searching, wandering—

Until it adapts and connects with the ocean around it. The gold in the eyes of the sharks and whales begins to dim. A feeling of grief and eventually peace washes over everyone who remains.

And then everyone begins to shift in their beds, awakening as if returning from a terrible nightmare. Of course, given that they recall all of it, it's likely not much of a nightmare. At least not in a literal sense. When they wake to check in on the world, they'll find it in much the same shape—with the changes being far less obvious at first.

> 30 SECONDS FROM TOKYO

At first, you'll hear the buzz of a motor, as well as smell the splash of ocean water not so far away. You'll find that you're on a boat, passing swiftly over the Pacific Ocean to come into contact with a large, man-made structure in the distance. While you're drugged, you find that you're unable to move much. An IV protrudes from your arm, keeping you sedate. When one of the guards on the boat turns to check on you, they'll find your eyes open. "Sit tight and don't move. We have to be welcomed inside." Even if you're naturally defiant, you find yourself forced to comply.

Eventually, the boat pulls onto a dock that extends from the city itself to welcome your arrival. The mechanisms are complicated and hidden. Unlike a drawbridge in our modern times, the dock extends swiftly and completely, welcoming the boat next to it. After the boat seems to anchor itself into place, the guards present begin to move each of the passengers one by one off the boat. You'll notice others like you: dressed in white, long-sleeved scrubs, with recently shaved heads, and a pair of white tennis shoes. Or most of them are.

There are two exceptions: Eames and Aeryn, who have their hair still, but are just as drugged and kept under. They went through a similar arrival process before the Aerie stole them away, and arrived back after the Aerie ended in a similar manner to Max. Their return to society is just less personalized due to the circumstances.

Eventually, you're taken through the city—a wonder in and of itself, as it's a complex system of elevators spanning both vertically and horizontally through the large, metallic structure—and eventually through the back door of a business.

"All right, listen up everyone. There are people coming to get you. We've got this place for the day, so sit tight." At this, everyone's forced to do as they're commanded. Even if you don't want to sit, you have no choice. "We'll direct the people to bring you water, but that's all. Ask them to show you the glow. And—from me to you?" The guard sounds … tired all of a sudden. Her voice is strained as she adds: "Try not to fuck more shit up."

At once, the guards start to filter out through the back door. As much as everyone left behind can't go anywhere, they sure can talk.

As this process begins, a message is sent to all of the Displaced in New Amsterdam via a private broadcasting channel, one that's meant to only reach a limited number of people. It seems Jimmy's found a way to hack it for his own use, but trying to trace this back to him will prove impossible:

Sorry everyone. Couldn't do an official drop off. I barely scrounged up the people I did to get them to town. They're sitting tight at a bakery called Sweet Omakase in New Tokyo. Just go in and tell the people up front that you're there to pick up a package.

Oh, I forgot to mention: I'll be reaching out to a few of you soon. So … yeah.

JH

As for that compliance drug?

◉ Though entirely capable of independent action and thought, new characters will find themselves completely, unquestioningly compliant to any verbal statement which could be taken as a command or request.

> NEW AMSTERDAM

Though the Displaced can make the choice to keep the newcomers in New Tokyo for longer than a few hours, it's generally not recommended. Morningstar in New Tokyo is in just as much disarray as the rest of the world, and El doesn't want to disrupt their recovery in these trying times. As such, it'll be necessary to take them on a secure route back to the New Tokyo gate, bring them to New Amsterdam, and start to get them ready for their new lives. Of course, they may see a little bit of New Tokyo along the way, but not much given the urgency. (The link is provided for brevity purposes—please see the "New Tokyo" section for a summary of the city itself!)

The abbreviated trip between New Tokyo and New Amsterdam will bring the newcomers back to a city that's been through … a lot. That means it's probably a good time to have a quick catch up, right?

> LAST TIME ON NAMSTERDAM!
Although a year isn't very long for even a human being, the Displaced have managed to make their mark in this unusual world. Having first been released out into the world in mid-June 2511, they started touching the world around them. Whether it was fighting a giant monster or curing people from the sickness caused by inhaling smoke from that giant monster's parts (as well as any tiny little monsters it brought with it) or taking on the UNA when they tried to wipe out an entire chapter of a rebel organization, the mysterious Blue-glowing people were there.

After over a year of interventions left and right, the Displaced finally came forward as a united group—one that's uniquely tied to a business they opened. No one knows they're from another world. They don't even know what the Displaced's powers are, though they've certainly seen them do fantastical things. One thing became apparent: while the Displaced were spotted in other cities around the globe, their influence has been most felt in New Amsterdam. And even if the world's governing body doesn't like it, the people of New Amsterdam have claimed the Displaced as their own.

Most recently, the entire world found itself dragged into another reality called the Aerie. The Displaced had gone through this before on a smaller scale, but this brought everyone present on the planet Earth to this other world. The Aerie was a miracle world: in order to prevent the death of humanity as everyone knew it, a group of heroes chosen by a handful of gods chained said gods and harnessed their power to create a safe haven for all of humanity. As a result of their actions, these people created a major class disparity in order to maintain the secrets of how they created the Aerie. Since billions of people were saved in the process, the Aerie ended up having an overpopulation problem. The answer? A battle royale for anyone who's committed a crime, held monthly.

Well, as these things go, about two hundred years into this horrible experiment, the Aerie started experiencing some challenges. Rebel groups and bombs and more! Eventually the gods were set free, and with it, the Aerie vanished into nothing.

Though the Aerie (and its smaller-scale predecessor, Zerzura) was undoubtedly brought into being by divine intervention, it doesn't help that the Displaced claimed that their powers seemed to be caused by interacting with gods. Troubling much? So, some of the world is divided, with New Amsterdam being the only pro-Displaced left after the Aerie. Of course, it's a touch more complicated than that.

And it doesn't all fall in the laps of the Displaced. After all, they didn't choose to have this happen to them.

An important thing to note is that New Amsterdam is a very, very green city. We don't mean recycling. As if powered by weird god magic, plants grow a-plenty in the city, leaving numerous trees and thousands upon thousands of credits in plumbing issues. Animals came into the city thanks to the absence of humans to start settling in. It's a beautiful city, one that seems as if it's actively fighting against being reclaimed by nature.

With the worldwide trauma, current singing events are currently on hiatus. This likely won't be permanent, but it's not as if anyone is looking to become a pop star at this exact moment.

But that's where New Amsterdam is currently, anyway.

> SUMMER PROBLEMS
Ah, water rationing. That's right: one of the tried and true traditions in New Amsterdam summers is water rationing. During the hot summer months, the city puts out water rationing warnings, and the city also answers the intense and extreme heat by making it so that businesses are open throughout the evening, with everyone sleeping during the daytime. However, the Aerie shot a lot of that preparation in the foot, so the city won't be able to reverse the clock.

Expect a lot of hot, miserable, and extremely humid days ahead. Thanks to the nearly tropical nature of the city at this point, humidity is a natural side effect of it all. The temperatures will be reaching from around 105 F to 115 F during the daytime. The evenings cool off, but certainly not by much, as they dip to only around 90 F to 95 F when the sun goes down.

Oh, and water rationing is most definitely in effect.

> RED WINGS
In February 2512, the bar known as Red Wings first opened. Positioned adjacent to the New Amsterdam stadium, where a wide variety of sporting events occur year round, it's the only business in New Amsterdam that's currently run entirely by the Displaced. However, a few other businesses are set to open in the near and distant future, all tailored to cater to the city that most of the Displaced call home.

On the inside, Red Wings is very, very red. There is a neon sign that's been recently repaired of the Great Lakes state (Michigan). In terms of being a watering hole, the bartenders are all Displaced and all very sympathetic to any newcomers headed their way. Need some free food or a chance to play pool to clear your head? Red Wings is the place to do that. There are tables throughout the bar. There used to be booths, but most of them got shredded during a recent monster attack and … well, tables are easier to replace.

It's likely that all of the newcomers will be brought to Red Wings first for a full meal before being taken to the safehouse across town.

And while there are blank projection screens around the bar showing news broadcasts of what just went down, none of the newcomers will be able to see any of them.

> MURAL
Throughout the past year, multiple murals have gone up around New Amsterdam by a Banksy-like figure. This figure is known to the people of New Amsterdam as Legion, and they tend to commemorate both the Displaced and their ties to the gods. In the Aerie, it was revealed that Legion was a wealthy woman by the name of Nirvana. Upon returning from the Aerie, another new mural goes up in New Amsterdam.

Legion's new mural explodes in color in the large corporate buildings that connect in New Amsterdam's financial district. It depicts the whole story of the Aerie from beginning to end: the conception, the Quarries, the attacks on both the Quarry and the Volary, and then the return. The imagery is woven together like a full story, each picture moving seamlessly into the next. Below are the colors of the gods, painted in vibrant colors that can be seen for miles.

There's specific imagery woven in as well, including the birds that represent the different groups of people, the eclipse and different phases of the moon to signify the timing.

It seems to say never forget.

> HELPING OUT
All around the world, returning members of Morningstar, PRESERVE, and even the cultists who once followed the leader, Ball (though the cultists are only working in New Amsterdam), all spur into action to try to help. Everyone may be traumatized, but they also likely prescribe to the notion of wanting to keep busy. Recalling the Aerie won't be pleasant, and the world needs help. New Amsterdam already has a head start thanks to the resource acquisition and work by a small group of Displaced, but now everyone is back to work.

The work in question? Feed everyone, first and foremost. Countless people are without fresh food. Working in conjunction with both the Red Wings employees and the cultists, PRESERVE will be putting up food banks all around the city. Marcos Diaz's food bank is likely to be fully stocked as a result of this, should he want to get that running again.

Other work that needs to be done involves plumbing, as the plants seem to have very much taken on a life of their own. They're absorbing most of the available water in the city, and have even made the water level decrease in the river (just a bit, though). Water rationing is even more important right now, but it may prove to be a futile effort if the plants aren't held back. Time to get moving. Anyone who wants to be an impromptu apprentice to a plumber is likely going to be welcomed onto the job. They need all hands on deck.

Finally, there are just the people who need help. Roaming bands of former UNA soldiers caused problems even before the mass return. Now they're meeting up and moving as if they're a gang of their own to return order to the land. However, these people are truly traumatized, and it's as if they're calling upon an old order that they can't quite recognize. The problem is that they're extremely dangerous. Though their weapons are mostly makeshift ones, they can fight with them. Along with these roaming bands, there are the catatonic and the confused people, all who could use some assistance to get back on track.

Sadly, the hospitals are not ready to be staffed by typical personnel. If anyone wants to take the lead on this and commandeer those medical centers, they can feel free to! Again, all help is appreciated, even if it might involve some slightly illegal choices.

> SPIRITUAL RECLAMATION
One thing that was significant in Meadowlark's world before the Aerie was a complete lack of religious or spiritual devotion, at least on a major scale. Smaller sects like the tiny cult in New Amsterdam were exceptions that ultimately proved the rule. After all, they didn't even have any written doctrine about their belief systems.

Things begin to change. Some of those changes are obvious, while others are less so—at first.

The first sign of this is in various preachers who take up spots on street corners to preach about the end of the world. With a muddled and confused ideology, these people build little podiums for themselves to speak about the end times: the Aerie was proof that humanity is only buying itself time before an inevitable end—and eventually, the gods will punish them for what they did. While the initial preachers will not have a clear messaging system, this will change in the coming weeks. In fact, it'll seem as if they're all deriving their ideology from the same place—even while located in different megacities.

Quietly, tiny religious communities begin to spring up. With real estate already in shambles before the Aerie, much of the construction has come to a halt in order for people to begin to psychologically heal. As a result, various warehouses throughout the megacities begin to be converted into spiritual centers. At first, these locales will be innocuous in nature, but in time, there will be a clear set of imagery connected to them. Some of that imagery will link back to the Aerie (with a lot of birds, as well as ties to either the Cardinals or the gods), or to the sacred geometry imagery that's been connected to the Displaced for some time.

These spiritual centers may simply be people squatting illegally, but it's not as if any of the various local police departments have the resources to stomp them out. It seems that the UN also views this religious devotion as harmless, at least compared to the other problems that could arise.

> NATURE'S RECLAMATION
Plants and a handful of animals have been at it for a while, but the world is definitely in the process of experiencing a second coming of … fauna? Some are springing up unexpectedly outside of walls, while others are inside of the walls themselves in many megacities. Did you know that pigeons were an uncommon sight in 2512? Well, were is an appropriate word for it. They're no longer uncommon. And what about that river in New Amsterdam? Never one to be a place for fishing, it's now filled to the brim with freshwater fish.

Want to go fishing? New Amsterdam will eventually require a license for it, but it's still early days. There aren't any fishing poles around to purchase, but someone can probably fashion one themselves if they have the know-how.

There will also be more wild insects. Pest control was a thing of the past for this world, but with all these new creatures showing up all over, that's going to be a concern once again. Unless, of course, it's prevented.

> SAFEHOUSE

Not long after their arrival, the new Displaced will be brought across the city to an abandoned hover-bike garage in a neighborhood that's clearly seen better days.

Located under said hover-bike garage, access to the safehouse is a hatch in the floor beside a rusted set of metal shelves that used to hold tools and supplies. The immediate area is similarly abandoned: full of rundown and dilapidated warehouses and forgotten businesses, where numerous people squat in hopes of having some stability because they can't afford a place themselves. The inside of this safehouse looks better than the outside, as it was beginning to be transformed into a training center by Ian Fowler. Once everyone is brought into the safehouse down below, they'll find no one waiting for them. Though Gaby, a Morningstar agent, is typically around, she's absent at this time. Any newbies will need to be filled in by their fellow Displaced, though they can also contact El through zeir inbox, if needed.

The safehouse is a large space with multiple rooms for storage, with the largest of the rooms filled with rows of basic cots set up to sleep a large number of people. Basic, but outfitted with everything necessary for daily life. A few doors lead to back rooms for storage, medical care, and a large communal bathroom, and past the long rows of cots there is a communal kitchen, fully stocked, and an eating area. Privacy is mostly nonexistent in the safehouse, with any past efforts that were made to change that destroyed by numerous attacks along the way.

◉ New characters will be asked to pick their beds, and be provided with a change of (second-hand, mismatched and somewhat threadbare) clothes and basic toiletries.

◉ There is a mini-bar set up in the kitchen. The quality of the alcohol inside is akin to what someone might get from the well at a bar, though it's running low because it hasn't been restocked since before the previous set of arrivals.

◉ While the kitchen has a lot of dried foods to cook, as well as canned and preserved vegetables, most of what's left in the fridge will need to be tossed. In addition, anyone looking for a jolt of caffeine from coffee or tea will find themselves sorely lacking. The only tea present is herbal in nature, and caffeine appears to be pretty much nonexistent in most of the beverages lying around.

◉ Along those same lines, newcomers will find that this is a world that is steeped in sustainable choices. Paper is a thing of the past. Ever used a bidet regularly? This world gives everyone a crash course in exactly what that feels like if they haven't done that before.

◉ Everyone will receive a modest stipend of credits from Morningstar to help them get by until they can find a job. This will be enough to cover their living expenses for about a month while they hang out in the safehouse, if they're careful with budgeting.

◉ The drugs making new characters compliant will remain in their systems for a few hours after their arrival at the safehouse before finally beginning to fade. They will be gone entirely after a night's rest. In the meantime, they may want to be careful of what others say to them.

◉ New characters will be given rudimentary access to the network upon arrival to the safehouse, but will not have their ID set up yet. They will be able to make posts and replies, but their messages will be anonymous—and they do not have inboxes yet.

◉ New characters also do not have access to the internet until their ID is setup. They only have limited access because they're present in the safehouse, but they can't surf the rest of the internet, check out Cooltalk, or watch the equivalent of Netflix until their ID is made.

◉ New characters cannot leave the safehouse at this time. The hatch is locked tight for them, making it impossible for them to get out for the next four days while they're locked inside. There won't be any immediately obvious ways to cut their way out through turning off the power, either. Time to sit tight.

◉ New characters will not be allowed to leave the safehouse until AUGUST 27, 2512 (JANUARY 23, 2020). These 4 days are for them to adjust, learn about the world they've arrived in from their fellows, and for El to speak with them and work on setting up their IDs.

> FINAL OOC NOTES

Welcome to Meadowlark, newbies! You're now free to post to the network and log comms. To reiterate, your characters will have no IDs or inboxes, nor be allowed to roam free once they enter the safehouse. Meaning: they'll have to sit tight until August 27, 2512 ICly.

All characters will appear as @anonymous on the network. While sitting tight in the safehouse, it's expected that they'll have gotten a good idea of their new situation from their fellow characters, and will have discussed their background and job potentials with El in order for their false IDs to be set up.

If you have any questions or ideas about how you'd like to get your character involved in the world, please head over to the plot engagement post and drop us a comment!

For questions pertaining to this log (and because we accidentally forgot to drop a questions header here, our bad!), please refer to our questions thread on the OOC post.

The January CR meme for the month is here.

Please check out our Event #011 Wrap Up Post for a rundown of all of the changes brought about through the AU, as well as any world changes that will be apparent moving forward.

As we announced on the wrap up post, AC will remain halved until at least June 2021. That said, for the month of January, we're making things check-in only because of the state of the world.

Finally, we'll be back to our standard planned calendar and AC (halved, just to be clear) on February 1, 2021. Reserves will open on January 23, 2021.

> NAVIGATION

Comments

aidan kaase | original

[wrend]

ARRIVAL

( his hair's short, but not short enough that it keeps the bit of brown that's managed to grow back in from curling. there's a try not to fuck shit up, and a sit and there's not shit else he can do than to follow along with it. which is fine. ish.

okay it's really not fine at all but it's whatever, nothing he can do about it now. so instead of getting tense and freaking out, aidan sits down. raises the class of water he's got in hand and takes an easy sip out of it like he isn't sitting here in clothes that definitely don't belong to him with who the fuck knows what running through his veins and causing him to not be able to do jack shit. )

So, ( voice light, airy. without a care in the world and all that shit. ) you come here often?

SAFEHOUSE

( there's the journey out of new amsterdam. the trip to make their way into the safehouse, the mess in between. a bunch of stupid important crap that he can't really say no to but he does follow along with.

the safehouse feels comfortable; familiar. a nice little hovel full of beds and miscellaneous bullcrap laying around. except it's also an enclosed space with no way out and nothing he can do on the outside which is another all too familiar concept to him. the tech isn't new. the lack of an ability to do shit without it isn't new.

so aidan can be found in one of three places:

fucking with a bunch of spare parts he found in various places (/broke other things for) by ripping them even further apart and trying to piece them together into something else.

with the alcohol, because that's a good step two when step one doesn't work in his favor.

and then digging into medical equipment, sifting through various bags of whatever painkillers he can find laying around, while starting a pile with pliers and other basic first and shit. )

WILDCARD

( hit me up with whatever, or contact me at sharkly for something more specific. )

cws for addiction struggles/ptsd/emeto/assorted traumas

[kestrels]

（ you know, you'd think he'd be used to kidnapping by now. waking up in strange places, sometimes in restraints, sometimes with a hood over his head, sometimes both. the drugs aren't new, but they do make his stomach clench uncomfortably because he fucking — hates it, hates feeling like this, loose and warm and careless, pliant. when one of the morningstar agents tells him to get inside sweet omakase and he can't fucking refuse it's even worse.

he fights it. of course he does. but he still goes inside, very calmly, finds the nearest bathroom and spends the next few minutes dry-heaving on an empty stomach because of how fucking revolting it feels to just — obey, with no chance, no choice. his skin crawls, and the spot where the iv was taken out gets scratched raw, all those other scars stark white in comparison. he swore — he swore—

he gives himself a few minutes. paces. douses his scalp in water. blots the blood away at the crook of his arm, and then tugs his shirt down so he doesn't fucking have to be reminded of it every time it catches at his peripheral. when he slinks back out of the bathroom he looks absolutely mutinous, his expression drawn and taut, a frown creasing both his brow and one corner of his mouth.

aidan isn't — he's not a surprise. but jai sure as hell beelines right to him, grabs him by the scruff and bodily drags him over to a booth that's got clear sightlines to the doors and is further back from the windows. he — moves different. more deliberate. like he's got more command of his body than he's ever copped to around aidan normally. and he seems to have developed the curious habit of constantly being between him and the other people in the (bar? restaurant? whatever.)

once they're situated, he leans in and hisses in an undertone: ）

Shut the fuck up. This isn't the time for jokes.

Will Graham ¤ Hannibal

[cognitivus]

what I learned in boating school is...

( The world is a bleary place, drugged up and disorienting — sadly, a feeling Will is intimately familiar with. Being forced into chemical obedience is familiar as well, although that part is still coming back to him in bits and pieces. Snapshots of time spent blacked out, disassociated.

He is allowed to talk, though. He sounds a little breathless when he turns his attention to somebody — be it his neighbor or perhaps one of the older Displaced that showed up to rescue them. )

I don't... I don't know where I am. I can't remember how I got here. I don't know where I am.

( The subtle wavering rasp of distress weighs heavy on his measured words like a cloak. Restrained though he may be, careful and quiet and deliberate in his speech and his movements, he's practically radiating anxiety. It's in the bob of his throat, it's in the shape of his eyes, it's in his posture. )

afraid they won't let me back out

( Once his mind is his own again he has the chance to process the absolutely overwhelming onslaught of information passed onto him via mental PDF, bar patron, or kindly experienced Displaced. It's absolutely unbelievable, he still doubts his own sanity a little, but present inevitably begins to mingle with (very, very recent) past. He'd been in prison before he woke up here.

Specifically, he'd been in Baltimore State Hospital for the Criminally Insane. Hands wrapped around the bars, the feeling of being suddenly caged - physically and metaphorically, the latter of which having everything to do with the elaborate frame-job that landed him there. He was only just coming to terms with the fact that he might be there for the rest of his life. Astoundingly, being kept against his will in an underground bunker isn't playing nice with his freshly induced trauma.

He'll have a hand wrapped too tightly around a glass of whiskey that he isn't actually drinking, and he'll level a question at the first person who seems to have any air of authority. )

I'm sorry, how- how long exactly are we being held captive?

misc. mini-prompts

( Will can be found:
→ sitting on a safehouse bed, staring vacantly out at seemingly nothing for a disconcertingly long period of time
→ cleaning the spoiled food out of the safehouse refrigerator
→ intently studying a mural or religious shrine dedicated to the Displaced once released
→ wildcard me )

afraid they won't let me back out

[requiemshark]

[ Food is, unfortunately, a little harder to come by than usual, but Ephemera still makes his rounds at the safehouse. He shows up with groceries for the newbies, he does his part. Drops off the food, gives everyone a good once-over in case he recognizes any of the new faces, and answers the questions that he can.

Things have gone strange again. The city's different. Even so, he's used to war zones. This isn't all that different, in the end.

He tips his head to the side at the question, eying the glass. Hmm. ]

The 27th. When the new IDs come in. After that, you can do whatever you want.

[ His voice is low, rough. Smoke inhalation did a number on his lungs about the same time his face got fucked up. He's got a hood pulled up, shielding the worst of the mess, but there's no hiding the damage. ]

joel miller | ota (cw for... animal... murder?)

[texas]

NEW AMSTERDAM;

1

（ he can be found fashioning fishing rods out of... pretty much anything, really. he'll look up if someone approaches him, gesture to a rod and tell them to take it if they'll use it. if they seem unfamiliar with the concept, he'll sigh, a bit put-upon, and offer lessons. ）

2

（ also, he has killed a deer. don't ask how, but it was probably with a pair of scissors taped to a broom handle or something equally ridiculous.

he's knelt down beside it, gutting it with expert precision. he seems to be aware he ain't alone any more, but he doesn't talk to the newcomer until: ）

Pass me that other knife, will you?

（ a gut hook is all well and good, but he needs to do other business now. hope you've got a strong stomach, newcomer! ）

3

（ he's done enough construction in his day that he ain't at much of a loss for impromptu work. he's working on the plumbing in a building — your building, maybe? or are you helping out as well? either way, wherever he is, be it in an apartment proper, a sanitation access point or some other Mysterious Plumbing Place, you're about to hear a man cuss a blue streak in the meanest texan you've ever heard.

s-should you check? leave him alone? up to you!! ）

2

[requiemshark]

[ Well. This is new. Ephemera's not unused to the idea of killing and gutting an animal - he went through survival training same as everybody - but it's a new sight around here. Lot of blood in the air now.

He kneels down and passes over the indicated blade. ]

You got a way to transport it?

Fenris | Dragon Age

[thebluewraith]

(𝑎) 𝑡𝑜𝑚𝑜𝑟𝑟𝑜𝑤 𝑤𝑖𝑙𝑙 𝑏𝑒 𝑎𝑛𝑜𝑡ℎ𝑒𝑟 𝑑𝑎𝑦

[Not being a mage Fenris could never know what it's like to be made tranquil. But when he was on that boat, dead eyed and passive to the rest of the world, he thinks maybe he came close. There was anger bubbling up but it wasn't enough to do anything, and by the time he knew what was going on, the appropriate moment for his rage to ignite had passed. Instead, he had to focus on getting his bearings and not losing his cool.

Then he wondered how much of that was still an outside influence.

He didn't stay in New Tokyo long, it seemed. The real answers looked like they would be in this New Amsterdam, though he was shuffled along into a place called Red Wings where he now sat, having ditched those awful white shoes that pressed too tightly on the markings of his feet. They took his armor. Left him with this white garb that thankfully doesn't irritate his markings like the shoes did. He would rather go barefoot than wear them for another second — and well, he did.

His gaze frequently flickers to the exit with all the subtlety of a giant in an apothecary shop. He knows he's going to be shuffled elsewhere again, and the temptation to get up and run is so great. He hasn't even touched the food in front of him and the only thing stopping him is...he doesn't know, but his foot bounces in anticipation and anxiety.]

(𝑏) 𝐴𝑛𝑑 𝑦𝑜𝑢 𝑤𝑜𝑛'𝑡 ℎ𝑎𝑣𝑒 𝑡𝑜 ℎ𝑖𝑑𝑒 𝑎𝑤𝑎𝑦 (wildcard forward dated when 4 days are up)

[Feel free to spot Fenris anywhere from rooftops, because he's like that, to bars around the city, and probably hanging around the more nature grown areas. As for the safehouse he's probably spending a good chunk of time pacing back and forth because he has unfortunate experience held captive and it sucks. Also PM me or hmu at the CR meme to plot something out because my brain kinda farted prompt wise here, oops.]

for maine

[thebluewraith]

(continued from here, foreword dated)

[It hasn't been long since Fenris was finally let out of confinement which makes a drink or two incredibly appealing. He found himself stuck even after he was let out, forced to accept that getting back home wasn't going to be as easy as getting up and leaving — assuming it's even possible given where he finds himself.

All of that is to say, when he glances over at Maine ordering two of the same drinks in a very obvious power move, where he might normally roll his eyes he welcomes the distraction. As he lifts his drink to his lips to down it as if he were chugging water, he signals for the bartender and holds up three fingers. That's right. He accepts.]

maine

[bloodbathing]

( ooc: leave wildcards or plot with me on the cr meme! closed starters below. )

for carolina

[bloodbathing]

[ Maine doesn't remember the last time he cried. It's been too long, and his memories are too tangled. As the Aerie fades away, he cries. Cries because he can feel everything and everyone, a connection so profound that it transcends words. He's with everyone in a strange nowhere, then deep beneath the waves, then watching the constellations burn. He's with them until something slices and shatters him into jagged, incomplete shards, and then…

Then he is ice, and rage, and grief…

And then Maine wakes up in his bed, and his chest immediately glows blue. His power freezes him in place. He pants for air as tears slide down his cheeks, vision blurred but mind blissfully blank. For five minutes, he gets a reprieve. Then his chest stops glowing, and everything crashes down on him at once.

Maine presses the heels of his hands to his eyes, wiping away tears as he struggles to make sense of anything. He can't. He doesn't know how. Doesn't know how to cope with what he just experienced. Doesn't know how to reconcile memories from a different life that feel as real as this one — if not more so. But he has to do something; he has to move. So he rolls out of bed and does the only thing that makes sense when facing something he doesn't know how to handle: he puts on his armor.

The process of armoring up doesn't take long. It's soothing, too. Makes him feel a little more stable. A little more like this Maine, a man who never set foot in the Aerie or the Quarry. By the time he pulls on his helmet, his tears have mercifully stopped. He stands still for a moment, soaking in the feeling of safety (and power) that comes from wearing his armor. Then he opens his bedroom door, ducks through, and looks around for his teammates. ]

kisame

[samebito]

( ooc: leave wildcards or plot with me on the cr meme! closed starters below. )

for fenris & shinobu

[samebito]

[ After two days spent trapped in this so-called "safehouse," Kisame grudgingly accepts that this is no illusion. He doesn't know precisely how it happened, nor does he unreservedly trust any answers given to him. (Intel from an untrustworthy source is sometimes worse than none at all.) However, it's apparent that he's been abducted to somewhere utterly unknown. The question is: what now?

He's not alone in this experience. While that's not necessarily reassuring, it's still a place to start. He makes his introductions and finds two individuals with whom he enjoys talking: Shinobu and Fenris. The three of them gradually commandeer a quiet corner. Their company isn't comforting, precisely, but it makes this imprisonment more tolerable.

After stopping by the kitchen, Kisame approaches the other two with three beverages — a balancing act that takes no effort. One is alcohol; the other two are tea. He hands the alcohol off to Fenris, then passes Shinobu one of the cups of tea and keeps the last for himself. ]

Are you sure you don't want to try any tea, Fenris?

Callisto | Xena: Warrior Princess

[myfavoritemurder]

helping out

[Callisto hasn't been around long enough to have any particular beef with the UNA soldiers, but she knows a roving army when she sees one, and she has no interest in being brought to heel. Maybe they'll attack first, recognizing her (correctly) as someone who's not likely to care about the order they're trying to bring, or maybe she'll strike the first blow, either because she genuinely feels threatened or simply because she's in the mood to see some blood. Either way, the fact that they're clearly traumatized and not thinking clearly doesn't make her hold back or show mercy - her own mindset and emotional state are, honestly, not so different from theirs, and her trauma has been festering and poisoning her since long before the Aerie.

She ends up in a tussle with a small group of them, lashing out with both her titanium bat and her bare hands, letting out periodic shrieks of uncontrolled rage. She's a formidable fighter, and even though she's outnumbered four to one, she's still holding her own pretty well - but someone might want to step in to deescalate (or escalate; I don't know your life) regardless.]

nature's reclamation

[Limited water and a lack of plumbing had been a staple in Callisto's life before finding herself in this world, and it's really not hard for her to adjust back to that status quo. Today she's crouched by the riverside, makeshift spear in hand (it won't do much for her against a person, but it's good enough for catching fish), when one of the crews that's working on clearing out some root-clogged pipes catches her eye. She watches them curiously for a few moments, trying to work out what they're doing and why, and when she figures it out she snorts.]

You're all soft.

[She says - to a passer-by, maybe, or to one of the workers. It's not that she objects to the work that they're doing, or that she has anything against showers and toilets and clean water that comes out of taps. She's just here to provide bratty commentary. You're welcome.]

misc.

[Feel free to a) contact me for a personalized starter, or b) throw her a wildcard starter!]

helping out

[unmoor]

[ he may be a pirate, but he has a code. it might not always steer him toward making the right choices, but it has its uses. for example, when he discovers a woman fighting against a group of soldiers, he will intervene. she seems to be doing okay, but he holds no warm feelings toward soldiers in general and he's always a gentleman.

it was originally her loud cries that caught his attention. her rough style of fighting also makes it easy for him to sneak up on the soldiers from behind without any of them noticing. he grabs one man and forces him to back away from the fight with a sharp blade pressed against the soldier's throat. ]

Four to one? [ he makes a tsk noise, shaking his head dramatically. ] Bad form, I say.

sam winchester ( supernatural )

[remorseful]

return ( casa de winchester | closed to Dean and Cas )

[An out-of-body experience where his soul feels as if it's wrenched from his body is nothing new for Sam Winchester. The exact nature of this go around is new. His brain is overstimulated as he tries to take in the vision, tries to take in what he experiences, tries to reach out to the familiarity of what might be around him, only to come up dry. It's surreal and screwed up and he doesn't know what to make of it.

And then: he's in a bed in his apartment. He jerks awake. He sits up slowly, looking around. And then he checks the notifications that come in. Mostly news things, bulletins that were put together by the colonies. Oh, and a message to Dean. He sends off a reply.

And then he waits, hoping that either Dean or Cas will come home. He's going to catch up in the mean time. He's going to have a beer. Sam's not really a "beer fresh out of bed" kind of guy on most days, but he has his exceptions. Today calls for that.

Sam's visibly reading in the living room on one of the side chairs when he hears the door slide open.]

why'd you have to go and make things so complicated? ( closed to Kyna )

[It's a day after he's back that he finally ventures out, at least to see people. Oh, he goes for a run in the evening, right after it's cooled off a few degrees. (Not enough, but a humid, sticky summer is to be expected in Kansas, so he's used to it, at least to some degree.) But to see people? To take in the city? To deal with things like this? Yeah, he needs a night of sleep that he actually got for himself first.

Finding Kyna is more or less a goal. A complication that needs to be cleared up. His head is swimming with details. One part of him wants to get to work. The other part is forced to realize he can't really do that, not yet. Not until he works things out with her.

He strides into Red Wings in the early afternoon, stopping to pull out a seat at the bar. He leans forward, elbows on the bar top, and he looks for Kyna. If she's not there, he'll wait. But, well. He already had one awkward post-Aerie conversation through the implant. He'll definitely pass on more.]

making my way downtown ( open to all )

[Then it's just a matter of getting down to work. His first objective isn't to throw himself into a pile of digital books to get researching, even if he'd like to. There are a lot of things just outside that need his attention. Sam hits the streets as a result, looking a little overdressed despite the heat. Boots, jeans, and a full button up shirt? Well, it's practical to him, okay? He probably looks a bit overheated, though.

He'll be seen at a few places:

1. preachers—It's been a while, but Sam definitely remembers being spied on by guys just like this. His lips twitch into a frown. Honestly, the nature of what they're saying is ... not surprising, considering what happened. But he wonders if it'll stay like this. If he spots someone near him who looks even semi-familiar (Red Wings is a watering hole of sorts to help with this, after all), he offers a nod and asks,] Think this is gonna be a trend? I wonder if we should worry about it.

[After all, this is several steps past artwork featuring them. But it's not entirely connected to them, either.

2. disoriented people—Otherwise, he can also be found trying to calm disoriented former soldiers. Sam doesn't have a weapon on hand, and if he did, he wouldn't be quick to use it. These people don't seem to know what they're doing, and he's going to use all his weight to help.]

Hey, just—[He puts both his hands up, both in an intention of surrender, and to calm the former soldier.] I'm not here to hurt you. Just—do you know what you're looking for? What you want? [Of course, his approach isn't working yet. With a dazed look, the former soldier lunges at him, waving a large pipe at Sam's head.

When he raises an arm to block it, he grunts, and his eyes start glowing gold, and he suddenly has the strength to push the soldier back. He puffs out a breath after he does, feeling adrenaline coursing through his veins.

It's both welcome and not. Not because it reminds him of when he took demon blood. When he felt this strong. His chest rises and falls with the feeling, and his mind stays alert.

3. plumbing?—Thing that Sam Winchester will never be: a plumber. Thing he's trying to be right now to help: an apprenticed plumber.

Or he would be, if he could only be allowed to help.]

Look, I know. I know what it was like in there. I'm—I'm sorry. [He huffs out a breath as the plumber explains that one of Sam's "theoretical engines" got his mother killed in the Aerie.]

That's why I'd like to help. To—to make up for it. [But he's probably not going to press his luck too much farther.]

wildcard

[Anything else? Hit me up at the CR meme. Sam is still very new, so I'm looking to dig into stuff!]

[evocation]

[Kyna has been telling herself and everyone that will listen that her relationship with Sam in the Aerie doesn't count. They were totally different people living completely different lives. How could it count? Besides, Sam designing death traps to climb the ladder seems so counter to what she knows of him here. It's like expecting that the older Jason will be friends with her just because the younger one was.

So, hypothetically, talking to him shouldn't be such a big deal when he comes back. She's certainly been thinking about him enough in the interim, worrying about what he's going through in the Aerie. Still, when she starts to realize that everyone left behind is returning, her first thought is that she should probably find him, and that she desperately doesn't want to. Pathetic or not, she's afraid to put her theory to the test.

He catches her at the end of her shift, and so it takes a while for him to see her, but then she's coming out from the back, apron tossed over one shoulder. She's scanning the bar instinctively. Not for Sam, necessarily, but just to see who's wandering in, who might be back that she doesn't know about. Then she spots him, and her footsteps falter. It's just for a moment, a stutter caused by sudden nerves and a rush of anticipation, but it's certainly noticeable before she forces herself to head over.]

Hi.

[Totally casual, right? She thinks somehow it didn't feel totally casual, that it actually sounded like some dumb teenager seeing her crush at the mall, but she wonders if he picked up on that. Were her tells in the Aerie the same as her tells here? God, probably.]

killian jones/hook | ota (new amsterdam)

[unmoor]

( 1. red )

[ hook was told that there would be poker nights at red wings. it's mostly an excuse to check out the place he's heard so much about because he isn't interested in joining their fight, but he shows up anyway, squinting his eyes at the red interior like the color personally offended him.

the newcomers with their shiny bald heads are easy to spot, but he ignores them and heads straight to the bar instead. he can't handle any weird questions or awkward introductions before he's gotten himself a drink. ]

( 2. green )

[ the overwhelming vegetation reminds him of neverland and not necessarily in a good way. the vines apparently cover everything in this part of the city. they make traveling slow and tedious, but they also provide nice cover for surprise attacks.

the pirate can be found crouched over a body laying on the ground, going through the man's pockets. it's somewhat unclear what went down here, but clearly the man didn't see it coming because there's no sign of any struggle. hook straightens his back and slides something into his own pocket. doing so, he notices that someone else has arrived at the scene. ]

I hope he wasn't your friend. [ unbothered, he addresses the person staring at him. ]

( 3. blue )

[ the food is scarce, but somehow he's been able to secure a bagful of it. a pirate who has the coins and the weapons to feed himself never goes hungry. unlike the people who've suddenly started showing up out of nowhere, confused and scared. on the street one child in particular catches his attention, dark hair and sad blue eyes. passing him by, hook seems unsympathetic at first, but suddenly he appears to have a change of heart since he stops, takes the bag off his shoulder and tosses it at his feet.

he gestures at the kid to help himself and leave before anyone catches him doing this. ]

Go on then, scram. [ the child offers the pirate a shy smile, picks up the bag and runs. ]

green (forward dated a bit oop)

[kestrels]

（ here's the thing. the world doesn't stop turning because you don't have a fucking clue what's going on in it. even looking back through the network all he's determined is that a) these people fucking love to argue and b) there's probably not a spare braincell between the lot of them anyway.

but really, it's all the more reason to get back to work. new amsterdam isn't ksagae, but it's — familiar. the way the air and the rain and the horizon are familiar. wherever there's people, there's probably crime. it's an inevitable thing. people want things, and they take them. money, lives, whatever.

aidan argues, but jai leaves anyway. it's harder without the suit, but he's got a domino mask and a hood, fake hair beneath it because he's not a fucking idiot when it comes to his identity, thanks.

but despite his best efforts he basically he looks like a superhero if you bought them on wish. for like, ten cents.

anyway. he's probably chilling out on a vine or something some ten, fifteen feet above hook during that whole thing and when the gig's up, he

no voice changer, but he can use the shitty hollies accent that he's worked to untangle from his everyday speech, so. ）

I'm just saying, you should probably put that back.

（ he sounds affable enough, but he is 100 percent ready to fight over this. don't push him!!! violence is his nature!! ）

harley quinn | dceu | ota

[mahem]

red wings

[ of course harley quinn would eventually, inevitably find a bar.

technically, she doesn't have much in the way of money or credits or whatever, but that isn't a new condition for her. she's used to camping out somewhere and finagling her way into free drinks — or, if it comes down to it, just walking right by and swiping a drink off of someone else's table, moving on before they've even noticed it's gone missing. if she picks them right, usually it's someone who won't even realize they've lost their booze, but she has gotten herself into trouble before when she doesn't act as smoothly as she could.

right now, she's weighing the choice between springing for her first few drinks herself and maybe making eyes at the first person who looks sympathetic to her plight — but the good news is she looks fabulous, at least. all that shopping she'd done up on the moon (and on jimmy's dime, no less) has given her some absolutely phenomenal duds to parade around in, clothes that feel way more her. even though her hair's not fully grown back yet, she's got enough blonde fuzz coming in on top to start to hide her surgical scar, and the rest of it is a combination of dramatic eye makeup, dark purple lipstick and a pair of large statement earrings dangling to frame the sides of her face.

someone sidles up to where she's standing at the main bar and she pivots in her seat to position herself facing them, dipping her head against her shoulder as she greets them with a smile. ]

Hey there. Buy a girl a drink?

helping out

[ where there's chaos, there's always going to be people trying to take advantage of it — so maybe it should be no surprise that harley's in the thick of it, even though she isn't thrilled about getting swept up into a fight without her trusty bat.

oh well. a girl knows how to improvise.

they're all packing, which doesn't bode well for her odds, but she lifts an index finger to indicate she needs a brief pause before reaching up and pulling off her earrings one at a time, slipping them into the back pocket of her jean shorts. it's hot, even with the sun going down, and for what might be the first time since it happened, she's actually enjoying the benefits of her shorn head in this oppressive heat.

but she readies herself after plucking up a stray pipe on the ground, spinning it between her fingers with a twirl of her wrist before returning its weight to her palm. ]

Batter up, babies. Who wants a taste first?

[ is their being soldiers enough to deter her? nope. which is why she might need a little backup here. ]

wildcard

[ come at me for a different prompt or to reply to a different option from the event log above! any questions, feel free to pm me or hmu on plurk. ]

drinks;

[preseance]

（ he's mostly been stayin' in new tokyo as needed, comin' back to new amsterdam every few days for supplies as needed. this is one of those times, an' he's intendin' on checkin' up on his people just the same.

an' takin' the time to nurse a whiskey, meanwhile. half of bein' a medic in the war was knowin' when a fella needed a moment to himself, an' he ain't going to be a hypocrite. he does need a break, an' the world won't fall to pieces without him. could be it's one'a the hardest lessons he's ever learned, but he's taken it to heart just the same.

when harley comes up, sits herself down an' poses that question he almost laughs, his expression wry an' amused. ）

Question like that, how could I say no?

（ sure, why not. he gestures for the bartender, an' then: ）

Whatever she wants on my tab, please an' thank you kindly.

jai kinvaio | peep @ his journal for content warnings please!

[kestrels]

𝒔𝒂𝒇𝒆𝒉𝒐𝒖𝒔𝒆

（ he's cleared an area at the foot of his cot. set things up. and now he is throwing kitchen knives at the wall. jai would argue — he's not bored, he's busy.

some of the knives have been modified for better weight — things taped to their handles so they're balanced. if someone, for some reason, gets it in their head to cut across the path of his knives to the kitchen (after all, it's the shortest way there) he will stop and give them a very exasperated look. ）

Are you trying to volunteer for target practice?

（ ah, yes, he is here to make friends and influence people, absolutely. ）

𝒇𝒊𝒔𝒉𝒊𝒏𝒈 𝒇𝒐𝒓 𝒇𝒖𝒏 𝒂𝒏𝒅 𝒑𝒓𝒐𝒇𝒊𝒕

（ he's standing out in the shallows of the river with a spear, looking for all intents and purposes about as still as a shadow. every once in a while he'll actually stab a fish, and bring it up on the bank to join its buddies the three fishketeers up on the river's edge. there are fish stuck to dried-out spears of vines beside him jammed down into the dirt there, obviously quite dead. he didn't spend four months in the wilderness while galeya cracked a (proverbial) whip over his head for nothing, thank you.

anyone approaching him in what seems like good faith will prompt him to offer to share.

anyone trying to sneak off with one of his speared fish is going to piss him royally off and there will probably be An Fight while this rowdy teenage superhero loses his cool. choose your battle! ）

𝒂 𝒄𝒖𝒓𝒊𝒐𝒖𝒔 𝒃𝒂𝒓𝒅𝒆𝒂𝒗𝒐𝒖𝒓

（ he is sure the fuck not going to redwings, thank you, he will be avoiding that place like it's on fire until further notice. but he is at a little dive somewhere on the other side of town. what's it called? ...does it matter?

he's not drinking liquor, though, he's mostly sucking back club soda or whatever else it is these places have that's bubbly but not weirdly prohibited, and playing darts.

if anyone new walks into the bar, he'll give them a cheery lift of his glass and a nod to the dartboard. ）

Down for a game?

（ but what he really means is: are you down to be annihilated without mercy!! no ego here, no sir. ）

𝒇𝒊𝒓𝒔𝒕 𝒓𝒖𝒍𝒆 𝒐𝒇 𝒇𝒊𝒈𝒉𝒕 𝒄𝒍𝒖𝒃

（ he could say something about the world's oldest professions, but the truth is — wherever there's people, there's going to be fighting or fucking for resources. he opts for the latter when he finds it, a group of una soldiers staging fighting pits for rations. honestly, he recognizes that most of them are just scared fucking kids — he's not in that place any more, but he knows what it looks like. still, it's a good way to get in with them, and listen.

he fights, but not anywhere near to what he's capable of. a while later he'll get out of the ring, sweaty, blood streaming from a cut above his eye, grimacing a little if he twists the wrong way, but looking overall remarkably cheerful as he drops down beside someone new and dumps a ration kit in their lap. ）

Happy Tuesday.

（ yes, that is apparently cause for celebration. ）

safehouse

[requiemshark]

[ Well. Isn't this a blast from the past. Ephemera doesn't step in front of the flashing knives. He knows better than that and he's not the sergeant, who could have walked right through the line of fire and snatched the blades clean out of the air. Maybe if he was in armor, or he still had two good eyes. Maybe if he was drunk and wanted a challenge.

Ephemera pushes his hood back away from his scars, a bag of groceries held loosely in one arm. There's a teenager throwing knives at the wall.

Cool. ]

Do that somewhere else. You hit anyone and I'm going to get pissed.

peter parker | mcu

[nerded]

❚❚❚❚❚ new tokyo!

[ It might be the drugs still floating around in his system, and how impossibly weak and sleepy he feels, but as he and a group of others are led through New Tokyo, Peter Parker can't help but feel a kind of heart-pounding awe at what has got to be the coolest and most unimaginable cityscape he's never dreamed of. It's like something out of a video game or a movie, like Blade Runner or something. Imagine swinging around in this place, once he can get his hands on a pair of webshooters again? So cool.

His mouth is a little bit agape, his eyes constantly towards the sky so that he manages to pose a threat to himself and the people on either side of him as a grade-A tripping hazard.

Oops. ]

Sorry, sorry —

[ Another thing he notices, as they all shuffle into a small nondescript building, is that the people around him are dressed similarly, all in scrubs, all with their hair shorn. He runs a hand across the top of his head, dismayed at how close the cut had been, leaving just a soft fuzz of hair there. ]

Does anyone know who those people are? Or who's coming to get us? And — where they're taking us? [ He lets out an exhale to stop himself from running his own mouth, especially when he's feeling physically jittery and he can't do anything but sit, as directed. ] Oh, man.

❚❚❚❚❚ new amsterdam.

[ It all feels very 'business as usual' when the other Displaced arrive to grab the 'newcomers' and they leave the city gates. Peter manages to keep his billions of questions to himself, follows when he's told to follow, and to move when he's told to move. When they're all piled into Red Wings, it's only then that most of the group seem to disperse and Peter finds himself feeling a little ... anxious about the whole affair, like maybe it's finally sinking in that he's really been plucked into a world hundreds of years into the future.

Okay. Okay, he'll start by moving away from the door and approaching the bar for another glass of water; it's really hot here with the kind of heat he's used to during New York summers, but in these long-sleeved scrubs (which he's tugged up to his elbows as best as he could), it's not doing that much good. ]

Can I — uh. Get a glass of water or something?

[ Later, he settles at one of the tables with a now empty plate and glass of water. Turns out food really does help to calm the nerves, just like Aunt May always said. God. Aunt May. If he's here, what does that mean for her? For everyone in his life?

Catch Peter deep in thought by himself, or at any point during his brief stint at Red Wings. And later more, once he's filled his stomach and maybe grabbed some less obvious 'I don't belong here!' clothing, he makes his way to the safehouse with the others. He takes any of the leftover beds not yet claimed, and after wandering around the length of the safehouse, makes his way back to sleep for the night.

Except he's feeling way too wired for it, no caffeine required. He tosses, turns, and the squeaky hinges of the bedframe protest against his incessant movement. ]

Hey — [ It's a hushed prompt to the neighbouring bed over, sorry for Peter. ] — you know how they say you should count sheep if you're having trouble sleeping? I'm calling them out right now, because it's not working.

[ It's okay. You can tell him to shut up. ]

❚❚❚❚❚ wildcard;

[ ooc: feel free to use anything in the above prompts and spin them around to fit a possible meeting with your character. and if neither of these prompts are quite vibing, feel free to hmu with anything else! ]

New Amsterdam;

[selfimage]

[ per usual, it's Loki's time to come review the newcomers to pinpoint any he might know. it's not exactly something he does out of the kindness of his heart, but the build of paranoia to ensure the solid state of his reputation.

not that it was worth much as of lately.

when there's no one around that he recognizes, he leans up against the bar just as Peter steps up. ]

Aren't you a little young for a glass of water?

[ his voice is smooth and easy, just a tad teasing, but it's difficult to tell. ]

terry mcginnis ( batman beyond )

[schwayed]

( arrival )

[ this is not the first time he's been knocked out and kidnapped. it's not the first time he's been drugged, either. in a little over a year of being batman, he's run the gamut, really. so although he's disturbed by the unfamiliar environment, troubled that he doesn't really recall what happened before, and fucking thrilled with the effects of the drug, he's not freaking out. this is not his first rodeo, as the old saying goes.

so he's quiet--he doesn't have much choice there--and he watches, blue eyes almost eerily observant as he takes in the guards, the boat, the docking, his fellow.. prisoners?

he's even quiet long after the guards have left them in the bakery, which would have been unheard of for terry just a few months ago. that all changes the first time someone turns to him, whether to check on him or speak or otherwise. he immediately throws a hand up between them. ] Ah-ah-ah-- [ and deliberately phrasing it as a question instead of the statement he wants it to be: ] Would you like to consider how you should say whatever you're gonna' say?

[ please don't--accidentally or otherwise--make him do some dumb dreg, he's had a long day. ]

( red wings )

[ that first meal comes in handy, largely because this seems to be a pretty popular place, and people are talking. so because terry's supposed to be an exhausted college student anyway, he just folds his arms atop a table and drops his face down into them to listen to the conversations going on around him. with any luck, he'll at least pick up something he can use. if not, well, maybe sitting quietly with his eyes closed will help him get over the lingering nausea from the drugging and the weeks--months?--of minimal sleep he's endured lately.

of course, it does give off the impression that he's maybe upset or freaked out. ... and it does leave his meal off to the side at the table getting cold. so. ]

( safehouse )

[ terry is mostly accustomed to keeping a night schedule. most of the crime he deals with happens at night--though it's neo gotham, so realistically, it's 24/7--so he's used to long hours on patrol, a few hours of sleep with dawn a hint on the horizon of the upper levels, then a long day of classes which he may or may not doze off in. sometimes if he's lucky--or unlucky, depending on how exhausted he is--he spends a little time with friends or his mom and brother.

ultimately, what all of this means is that a.) it doesn't take terry long to get restless, and b.) while most everyone else in the safehouse is sleeping, he's tossing, turning, and generally miserable.

eventually, he gets up, and someone in a cot nearby may find him.. upside down? he's in a handstand off to the side a little, oversized shirt he's sleeping in knotted at the bottom of his ribs to keep it from falling over his head. it does reveal a good portion of his abdomen, though, as well as a series of scars--here and there across all his visible skin--that were probably pretty nasty when they were new, but he's pretty sure they all have more important concerns here than the identity of a superhero most of them have probably never heard of before.

he shifts, pointing his toes, feet parting to shift his weight as he goes to one hand, and that's when he notices someone else awake. ]

Oh, [ he says a little awkwardly, though to his benefit, his balance doesn't waver. ] Uh. Hey. This isn't what it looks like. [ a beat, considering that, before amending: ] Scratch that, it's exactly what it looks like.

( helping out ) .. after the 27th

[ terry seems to be everywhere after they're finally released from the safehouse, but given the restless energy he'd displayed the last day or so, that's probably only to be expected. he's quick to lend a hand in handing out food or learning a little plumbing--you never know when the information could be handy--but maybe where he's put to the best use is in dealing with the groups of violent, traumatized soldiers.

sure, from what he's heard, they probably all need years of therapy, but they can't get that out on the streets causing problems and hurting people. so although terry doesn't have the suit, any of his gear, or dick's steady voice in his ear when he needs information, he's not exactly helpless. he was a shitty punk before he got his life back on track, and he's taken to dick's acrobatic style like a duck to water.

not to sound arrogant or anything, but these guys just had no idea what they were messing with when they sent the first punch flying toward terry's head.

he ducks, weaving through them, using their momentum against one another as he flips over a stumbling figure, knocking what looks like a makeshift bat out of their hand and snatching it up himself. he knocks the guy out with a well-aimed and satisfying bonk of wood hitting a body just right. ] Come on, guys! [ he dances back, out of the way of a charging body, tripping them as they pound past him, sending the figure sprawling. ] I've seen scarier guys in clown makeup back in Gotham!

( wildcard )

[ prompt.. me? or hmu: metamorphmagus | manxome#3644 ]

safehouse

[kestrels]

（ he doesn't really keep any kind of schedule. as the kestrel, he goes where he's needed — and as jai there aren't all that many expectations on him to begin with. but his internal clock is haywire anyway, coming here, and no amount of sleep or wakefulness seems to have set it to right.

he's less restless — galeya's influence, really — but no less sleepless. when terry takes to his midnight calisthenics, jai just rolls over to look at him. reading through the backlog of the network can wait, or something.

he's about to open his mouth to say some smart-assed shit when he sees the scars, and that shuts him up a moment. then, more thoughtfully: ）

Trying to burn off some energy?

homelander | ota

[laserbeams]

the aftermath /

[ One set of memories was already enough, two was almost too much for Homelander to bear. When he first arrives back in the real world, he's a quivering wreck, on the verge of coming apart. Sometimes he collapses against a wall and lets himself cry when he thinks he's alone.

But, hiding his emotions has always been a special talent of his. After a day or two, he looks like his old self again. Maybe a little colder, standing straight and military-like, no expression on his face. He'll politely nod at anyone who passes by. If it's someone he was close to in that other world, the act won't hold up and he'll look at them with a furrowed brow and wide eyes, bottom lip quivering before he inhales sharply and resumes his former stoic expression. ]

helping out /

[ When he manages to get his bearings together, he takes to moving boxes of ingredients and supplies for one of the food banks that's popped up nearby. None of these people deserve my help is the thought that runs constantly at the back of his mind while he's doing it, but he manages to put on a happy face anyway.

If a civilian looks at him with fear or disdain his expression falters, but only for a moment.

His time as a Cardinal has only reinforced his belief that the regular people of this world and every other would bite the hands that feed them, so ungrateful towards the very saviors that gave them a chance at life to begin with. So, why's he still helping out? Because it feels normal. He's used to this and can treat it like a stupid Vought charity event he loathed to attend but attended nonetheless. ]

Do we have any more plates? [ He says to whoever happens to be standing nearby. This would be easier if they had disposable dishes here but, alas, the environmentalists are calling the shots with that one. ]

red wings /

[ Homelander sits with a single glass of some alcoholic beverage in front of him (he just asked for 'something strong' for fear of looking like a lightweight), staring at it like a kid might stare at a plate full of vegetables once they've eaten everything else. He drank in the Aerie, enough to be considered downright irresponsible about it, but the real him didn't indulge in that sort of thing. Not at all.

But everything's fucked up right now and he's heard that this can be a viable coping strategy so hey, why not start?

He picks the glass up, trying not to inhale as he takes a sip, and - ]

Ugh. That's awful. [ He cringes, trying to get the taste out of his mouth. How did he tolerate so much of this before? Defeated, he pushes the glass to the side and leans forward, folding his arms on the table in front of him.

Something strong was probably not the best thing to ask for when he's this inexperienced, but he'll be damned if he ever asks for something weak. ]

wildcard /

[ ooc: feel free to hit me up at vellocet#7191 or dandymott for plotting! otherwise, anything goes! ]

red wings

[reproached]

[ Murphy's so deep into his own glass that the rest of the bar has faded into a blur. He doesn't realize anyone else has taken a seat near him - let alone that it's Homelander - until that familiar voice cuts through the din. His heart sinks into his stomach. Slowly, he sets down his glass.

They aren't family. That's a lie, a false memory planted into the chip on his brain stem, a life Murphy refuses to examine or consider as anything other than a vivid dream. But just because he has that clarity of mind doesn't mean Homelander will reason it out the same way. Murphy betrayed him. And he knows what happens to traitors.

While Homelander is hopefully distracted with his drink, Murphy moves. Maybe he can slink away unnoticed. ]

andy ( the old guard ) ota

[scythias]

01 THE NIGHT LIFE

( she's sitting alone.

as soon as she'd walked in, the eyes of the people already sitting in the bar had turned to her and she'd known they'd known. they'd known what she'd done in that other world.

and andy sinks into that shunning, ordering a bottle so she won't have to talk to anyone again and finding a spot in a booth in the corner. she plans on getting wildly drunk to hopefully forget what she'd done.

later, after the bottle's been exhausted, she's still fairly steady as she walks down the darkened streets. it's hot and she pulls off her jacket, carrying it over a shoulder and avoiding eye contact.

she's not stumbling, she's not slurring which probably means she'd done wildly drunk wrong. oh well. )

02. RED WINGS

( it would easy, she knows, to retreat and just be alone. and she knows that she's probably going to do that soon enough but today, when there's new arrivals, she tries to be around.

she keeps her distance from those she knows, picking up around the safehouse and doing her best to lead new people to empty beds and show them around. but, as soon as she sees someone she'd seen in that other world, she turns away and does her best to find other things to do.

she's there all day and into the night but once things settle and quiet, she's out the door and into the dark of the night. )

03. WILDCARD

( if you'd like to do something else, feel free to throw it at me. )

Red Wings

[variate]

[ when she comes in, he figures that she's waiting for someone. when no one comes, he realizes that it's quiet that she wants. so for the most part, he goes about his work without much fuss.

when people begin to leave and Red Wings and the place gets a little quieter, he steps up to her, his hands tucked in the front of his apron. ]

Hey, did you want something to eat or drink?

[ still giving that Red Wings hospitality. ]

penny adiyodi ( the magicians ) ota

[delayable]

01. MURAL

( so, that had been fucking strange. penny's doing what he does best and trying to ignore it but that was...fucking weird. he'd been himself but not and he'd had friends that he hadn't even fucking met before in this world.

he doesn't really know what to make of it and he's glad to be out. he doesn't really do the picking up the pieces shit because he's fine but he can't help but stop when he comes across one of the murals in the city.

it shakes loose a memory of that other place, of another person painting him and all penny can do is stand there, admiring the art and remembering that moment. )

I'm getting fucking soft.

( and then he's off again, heading to the nearest place where he can get drunk. )

02. SAFEHOUSE

( penny isn't typically one to help and he's kind of not helping right now. he'd come down here with the intention of helping so his heart was in the right place but then he'd grabbed something to eat and take up a spot on one of the beds, feet kicked out and arm tucked behind him.

as people filter past him, he gives them waves and smiles and when someone thinks he's new, he even gets a drink out of him that penny at least thanks him for.

he'll get up to help in a minute. he's had a long few weeks, okay. )

03. WILDCARD

( feel free to throw something else at me! )

Kai Gracen | Kai Gracen Series

[halfbloodhatchling]

A. Safehouse Arrival

[ Kai's been through compulsion spells, his body commanded against his own will, while he fight for control of it. This time is a little different, this time he doesn't feel that same urge to fight - like it's a simple fact that he'll do as he's told. And it doesn't seem to have faded yet.

It leaves a sour taste in his mouth that Kai needs to wash out as soon as possible and as soon as he realizes there's a minibar he heads for it, not picky about what he grabs. ]

If anyone else wants some you should call dibs soon, there's not a lot here.

B. Safehouse Settling In

[ Kai isn't great at being trapped, holed up, and the fact that other people are present just means that they're all prisoners together. A proper elfin would probably sit and be patient, but screw that, Kai's pacing like a tiger in a cage, poking at all the nooks and crannies, trying to find a way out or something interesting to occupy his time with. ]

I'd give a good fifty years off my life to have a gun. [ He mutters it, not really quietly enough to keep from being overheard. ] Or a pickax.

C. At Large

[ Eventually, finally, Kai's set free to roam, and roam he does. He'll head to a bar to get the lay of the land, but he can also be found investigating the local animals, catching and dressing some of them to hand off to a food bank, or helping out with the plumbing because Dempsey would've thrown Kai to the wolves if he couldn't manage that much - even if Dempsey hadn't had any sort of altruism in mind when he'd taught Kai what he needed to know.

Kai doesn't even complain about any of the tasks too much. ]

I'm going to be seven kinds of sore when this is done.

[ That doesn't mean he resists complaining at all. ]

What are you up to afterwards?

D. Wildcard

[ prompt me, or hit me up snowishness to plan specific things! ]

safehouse;

[kestrels]

I'm good.

（ there are a lot of reasons he generally does not partake. the fact that this guy is apparently just chill to be kidnapped, drugged, and then crawl into a liquor bottle says a lot about what he's coming from. ）

They probably restock pretty often. Who can object to being held prisoner if you get to be drunk?

（ he is! so pissed! about this stupid safehouse! as if he can't somehow be trusted to keep a low fucking profile somewhere out in the wider world. four days with no 'identity'? fuck, he could manage that with his eyes closed and sleep under a goddamn shrubbery in the interim.

he will literally die mad about it. ）

marcos diaz ( the gifted ) ota

[heliophilous]

01 OUT

( it's hot. it's hot and the heat's giving marcos a headache. he's been trying to work, to reconnect with contacts that he hasn't spoken to in awhile because of his absence.

eventually, he just gives up and settles down at an outdoor cafe with a bottle of water. his motivation's not there and neither is his energy so he's just going to sit and try and figure out where his head's at because it's definitely not here. )

02 SAFEHOUSE

( despite his malaise, marcos can't stop himself from helping. it's what he's always done. even when things are at their absolute worst, he still feels the need to help because if nothing else, he can do that.

there seems to be a good amount of people coming in this time so he focuses on making sure those that need food are fed and those that are confused have someone to speak with so they know they're not alone.

it doesn't help him or his own feelings but it does give him a good distraction and that's all he can ask for. )

03 WILDCARD

( feel free to toss something else at me! )

safehouse ;

[nerded]

[ Hoo boy, Peter can relate to those feelings. Even stuck here in this safehouse, he feels restless and jittery, wanting to do more than stay cooped up for a week biding his time. He doesn't know anything about this world or the people, but the urge to help out wherever he's needed is embedded into his DNA at this point. Great power, great responsibility, and all that.

He finds Marcos in the kitchen area, preparing food for some of the other newcomers, people like him, really. ]

Uh — hey, need some help?

Lexa | The 100

[coalitions]

The Mural

[ Nearly every day since returning to New Amsterdam, Lexa walks by the mural and ends up taking a few moments to look at it. She studies the design and occasionally sits down nearby in a meditation pose, quiet and thoughtful. To an outsider who might not know better it could seem as if she is praying, but instead she breathes steadily despite the heat and contemplates what happened. This mural has meaning because it means never forget, and it makes her think of the sacred drawings of Bekka Pramheda and the first Natblida in Titus' chambers.

She appears to be lost in either thinking or meditating, her calm occasionally giving way to feeling twitchy or less comfortable staying in place, an irritation, and lack of stillness from another Lexa. In those moments she seems more prone to pacing. ]

Fighting Back

[ Lexa is walking back to the apartment at night when she sees one of the roving bands of former UNA soldiers seemingly focused on a couple who seem lost in more ways than one. They accuse them of looking suspicious or looking at them funny, starting to get physical, and Lexa steps silently through the shadows before anyone sees her. A man lifts a makeshift weapon, a blunt object almost like a bat, and she grabs his arm, twisting it so sharply around that he drops it into her waiting hand.

She uses the base to slam into his stomach, sending him down to the ground out of breath in a moment. ]

Go.

[ She says to the blank-eyed couple, and they seem to wake up enough to know to get out. Lexa stands tall and firm, unafraid at the odds being seven to one. They are smart enough to know the stance of a warrior, enough not to laugh or immediately attack, but there seems to be uncertain tension, waiting for a pin to drop. ]

This is not the way.

[ In this, her two sides are in agreement. The others pause, but the first man, once he can breathe again, orders them to get her. Lexa calmly holds her new weapon and waits as they start to surround her. She could probably handle this herself, but help would be welcome!]

Red Wings

[ Lexa's lifetime of control means most of the time he can keep her deeply divided emotion in check. It helps the most when she has something else to focus on. There is no end to what needs to be done in Red Wings, and she is there to help take some weight off of Clarke. She is now far more practiced in the serving arts, from another lifetime and some experience here, cleaning tables off, washing dishes when need be, keeping everything as organized as possible. Her long hair is back and her various braids put back into her hair, feeling more like herself for it.

It helps to do these small things within her control, for Clarke and the Displaced who work and come there, mostly staying out of conversations for now about the bigger picture. Lexa may offer to get you something despite not being behind the bar, or pick up your plate if you seem done. If you are a newcomer, she may be the person who serves you your first meal first or is at the bar to answer questions.

Once or twice she might even smile at someone, completely unusual on her grave face, and upon realizing it lets the smile slip away. Sometimes she seems to stare off into space, eyebrows furrowed, and snap to realizing someone is talking to her. ]

What?


Wildcard

[ooc: hit me with whatever or message me on waftingcurtains on plurk. If you want an individual starter lmk, they will be below.]

For Clarke

[coalitions]

[ Lexa in the Aerie was a woman with a big heart. She stood up for what was right even when she lost everything, she was passionate about her Kestrels and the determination to destroy the unfair system they were in. She had a lifetime of laughter and tears, a found family who she loved with no hesitation, and a righteous fury up to the end of the Aerie, burning with it literally. The gods are freed and everything changes.

She is not new to sharing memories with other people. She has the knowledge and experience of former Commanders that she can connect with in meditation and dreams any time. But this is different. When the two Lexas have an out of body experience, existing at the same time, and she can almost hear the other Lexa say why you and not me? The Aerie is gone and what she goes through mentally afterward, while painful and confusing, cold and full of sorrow, nothing truly shakes her so much as a vision of the girl who was. Hair down, bright smile, ready to hug and soothe others, or fight for them. It is all too much.

Lexa wakes up and jumps out of bed. It is a different room. She raises her hands to run through her still long dark hair, a strange detail that feels like it is in the Aerie and not here, in this also familiar room, in this bed. There are tears unshed at the corner of her eyes and she does not know what it is for. Due to the experience so much more than she could ever understand? It was spiritual and big. Or is it the loss of a life and world not hers?

Maybe some people have an easy time settling two lives at once, but she feels dizzy, leaning against the nearby wall as her mind shutters through her memories. It plucks out this is real and pushes away this is not but those still linger. Lexa tries to remember her breathing, her meditation, but it's not working. ]

Clarke? [ The only thing she feels she can cling to, that she needs. Clarke is dead. No, that Clarke is dead.]

Naomi Nagata | OTA

[tekimetexeng]

arrival; sweet omakase/red wings/safehouse

[ Throughout pretty much the entire newcomer shuffle Naomi keeps her eyes steadfastly focused downward. She hears the water but doesn’t look out at it. Doesn’t look up as they’re led through the city. Doesn’t survey her surroundings the way most people in a place they don’t know would do. It’s very strange but makes perfect sense if you know her situation — she didn’t want to add the shock of being on a planet to the drugs and general bewilderment of it all. Didn’t want to be a liability or draw attention to herself. She seems almost too calm, a deliberate attempt, and very very quiet.

People are free to speak to her as she sits in the bakery, finally looking up but seeming not to take much in, as if she’s in shock. She’ll respond now, and to whoever comes to get them, though as soon as they’re transported again her downward-fixed, silent demeanor returns. She doesn’t eat much at Red Wings unless ordered to do so. At the Safehouse, the drugs finally flushing out, is when she seems to come back to life a bit.

She wanders around, examining everything. The tech seems of great interest, the VR machine and the kitchen appliances. She grabs clothes from the donations pile that are too loose on her and make her look smaller than she is. She finds the minibar and very deliberately decides against it. And again from time to time she’ll be found just sitting on her newly-claimed bunk, rubbing the scar on the back of her neck and looking worryingly blank. ]

acclimation; safehouse

i. [ The next day, and after a delivery from a kind Displaced, Naomi can be found in the kitchen stress cooking. Whether strangers are drawn by the sound of someone bustling around or the robust smell of spicyhearty Belter food, they’ll find a slim woman rummaging through the fridge and cupboards with looks of mild confusion, and chopping and stirring and tasting. When she feels someone’s gaze on her she’ll glance over at whoever’s come into the kitchen and offer a smile. ]

Hungry? The selection isn’t what I’m used to but I seem to have managed to put together something edible. There’s plenty.

ii. [ Later on she can be found in the common room poking at the games there — the VR reminds her too much of the tech that’s been shoved into her head to explore, but these seem like they could be entertaining enough. She pulls one out, reads the back of the box, and then brings it over to the little table and starts setting it up. It’s a murder mystery game for 2-4 people, and she seems to be setting the board for two to start. Should anyone seem curious she’ll gesture to the seat across from her welcomingly. ]

Help keep the boredom at bay?

helping out;

[ Naomi is used to both water rationing and technical infrastructure problems. Although admittedly what she deals with isn’t much like what this world is right now, she offers her services readily once she’s been given a tour and some time to acclimate to the shock of being on a planet. It doesn’t take long — she’s adaptable and somehow isn’t struggling with the gravity, and feels like her skills can be put to use. All it takes is saying she knows what she’s doing and she’s given a toolkit and pointed at the next building that needs work. She doesn’t mind going down into the sewers, either, seemingly comfortable with the cramped, dimly lit tunnels. What she does complain about is different, as she calls out to others in the vicinity. ]

Does anyone have an actual pipe wrench? This crescent they gave me isn’t even adjustable.

red wings;

[ Red Wings is probably where Naomi feels the most at home and the most at ease, early on. She doesn’t have any money just yet but she asks for water in a rocks glass so it looks like she’s drinking something, and sits at the bar facing out to people watch. Most of the clientele are Displaced, she knows, and she recognizes a number of them from the Safehouse, but what she’s really interested in is their demeanors. How they relate to one another, how they seem at ease in this world and this place. She sips her water and studies everyone, but doesn’t engage.

Feel free to call her out on this — she does have another agenda, trying to figure out just how many of them are here. Everyone gets quietly filed away into the head count, as she wonders what they’re like and what their powers might be. ]

riverfront;

[ Perhaps the most amazing thing after an actual sky, to Naomi, is the river. They may be rationing water but this is still more than she’s ever seen in her entire life, and she finds herself drawn to the parks adjacent to it. She sits peacefully on a bench safely overlooking the water and just takes it in, the sound and smell and sheer volume of what is, to her, a scarce and precious resource.

Should you come there to fish or just take it in with her, she offers a friendly smile and pats the bench beside her. ]

There’s room for company.

wildcard;

[ Whatever your heart desires, or hit me @ cuddlebug or koutavi#1461 for a custom starter. ]

helping out;

[evasives]

[ while cassian went into his job for the literal doors it opened up for him, he finds he likes the work anyway and that it keeps him quite busy given how often new amsterdam undergoes the need for more repairs. ]

[ attitudes towards the displaced are more tenuous that they were pre-aerie, so unlike the last major upheaval, he's been avoiding the use of his powers unless necessary, even if it would make things much easier. he needs to stock up on more shirts to hide the glow. ]

[ he looks up when he hears the woman (a newer displaced, if he is placing her correctly) and digs out his pipe wrench. ]

Here. [ and he tosses it lightly in her direction. ]

Quentin Coldwater | The Magicians

[filloryfanatic]

New Tokyo/Hello Newcomers

[ Quentin volunteered to greet the newcomers from the Moon in New Tokyo and helped ferry them through the gate to New Amsterdam. He saw no reason not to do the same thing this time. He's been shuttling between New Amsterdam and New Tokyo, helping as much as he can. It's a good distraction from the many things on his mind, although he's been doing better since his friends got back.

Still, he may be one of the first people to greet newcomers at the bakery, having done this for the past several new arrivls. Why fix what ain't broke? ]

Hi, I'm Quentin.

[ He seems like an ordinary person with sad eyes and a kind smile. ]

I'm here to take you through the gate to New Amsterdam, um, if you're ready. Or if you have questions?

Safehouse

[ Quentin helps shuttle people back to New Amsterdam and will help them get to the safehouse. Even if a newcomer isn't one he brought there, Quentin soon becomes a daily visitor, bringing food (although not as much as he used to), and some of the clothes they have left behind from others who left. It makes for good spare clothes for newcomers and it's in all sizes.

At one point he arrives with some extra liquor as he saw that they were running out. He gets some bottles in the mini-bar; if they're stuck there, they might as well have a drink to go with it. Whether he's bringing food, clothes, or liquor, he tries to offer a friendly if nervous smile to people. ]

Preacher and Mural

[ Quentin pauses every time he sees a preacher and stands there listening, maybe the only one who obviously does when others keep walking. He does not interject nor does he talk to the preacher later, but he listens and tries to memorize what they're saying, if there are new details he hasn't heard yet. It's not just one either, he's seen at various preachers no matter what they end up talking about, even if it contradicted the last one.

Quentin spends time memorizing the mural, but he can be found in a back room at Red Wings having brought a mirror there, not a huge one but big enough to get a sized-down version of the mural projected on it. Sometimes he swaps the new one out for the older ones he's seen and memorized, although they aren't as perfectly detiled as the current one. He spends what little free time he has sometimes looking at it, his chest glowing as it's an active use of his power.

When he senses someone there he blinks and the projection disappears back into clear glass again, glancing over. ]

Oh, sorry.


Wildcard

[ooc: hit me with anything you feel like!]

safehouse

[samebito]

[ Kisame is quite practiced in stillness. He wouldn't have survived long as a shinobi if he couldn't master that skill. That said, he's not fond of sitting idly for days on end, nor does he appreciate this imprisonment. (Because it is imprisonment, even if it is "necessary.") He's keeping himself occupied by testing his new power — something he discovered by chance but is grasping quickly enough.

One moment, the nearby area seems to be empty, or perhaps there's just nothing notable about it. The next, that space is filled by a six-foot-five man with blue skin and distinctly shark-like features. His smile is broad and filled with sharp teeth. When he speaks, his voice is cheerful and polite. ]

Goodness, that will please quite a few people.

[ "That" being the extra liquor. ]

damian wayne | dc's injustice

[batricide]

out and about.

[ He needs to reacclimate. And so Damian does what he has always done in times of confusion and uncertainty, he heads for the streets.

A lot had changed in the short period of time he'd been gone. Not surprising, given that life in New Amsterdam was hectic. It was summer when he first arrived. The sweltering heat wasn't missed, but it carries with it a strange feeling of nostalgia. his hair is pulled back away from his face in a bun, showing off the nasty scar marring his right cheek. The short-sleeved shirt he's wearing shows off his left arm, the faux skin covering it not terribly convincing under the unforgiving heat of the sun. His expression isn't terribly inviting, deliberately closed off to have people steer a wide berth around him, but -

he's constantly stopping to help people. Old ladies with heavy groceries? People struggling to move something on the curb? Damian's veering off his chosen path to try to lend a hand. If you need a hand, Damian's there to lend it. ]

Be more careful. [ he says gruffly. ]

safehouse.

[ per tradition - one not starting by him, but by people long gone now - he swings by with food. takeout from various places is dropped on the table, and the amount suggests that damian dropped a pretty penny on it.

he slaps down a pen and paper. ITEM REQUESTS sits in bold, neat handwriting at the top. There are spaces for names and sizes beside it. ]

I can't promise anything. [ he says to whoever catches his eye. ] But I'll see what I can do.

weed whacking.

[ he leaves a note behind on the safehouse. promising pay for anyone who is willing to help him clear out the catastrophe that is his warehouse. there are plants and animals everywhere. and damian, though as wildly stubborn as anyone related to bruce wayne can be, does not relish the idea of clearing it out alone.

and so the offer is there for anyone who wants it. if someone pings him, they get the gps location. the warehouse has become a forest full of wild things and damian is frankly pretty pissed about it. he could incinerate everything but that runs the risk of burning the space down too - or hurting the animals.

he's armed with a black kris, and anyone who approaches is handed a sharpened piece of metal. ]

Get hacking.

out and about(ish)—

[kon]

[ kon finds helping people to be one of the quickest and most efficient ways to acclimate to a new setting. it makes everything a little less overwhelming when he can adjust to a new city by passing out food and supplies or helping someone clear out vines and debris from their stores.

he would be able to do more if he still had his powers. unfortunately, that's a reality he is still trying to get a grip on. it doesn't help that he hasn't progressed at all on the one he got from the blue god. has he been trying? yes! every single day, in fact. has he managed to produce even a smidgen of result? let's not talk about it.

yanking away some vines that have infested a toy shop, kon adds them to the growing heaps around him. he has abandoned one of the leather jackets he bought in the lunar colony on a nearby bench. wearing an all black ensemble with fingerless gloves and a silver piercing on his left ear, he resembles more of a troubled youth than an upstanding civilian.

as he wipes some sweat from his forehead with the back of his hand, he shouts a casual warning to the guy approaching a few feet away. it looks like the owner has wrangled someone else to help her with moving things around. ] Hey, careful not to trip. [ there are little obstacles everywhere right now. ]

max guevara | dark angel

[revvedup]

HELPING OUT

[ max has had a hell of a month, between waking up in in an alternate world to people who knew her that she had never met before, dying in that world, and being informed that she'd been taken to a whole other new world and could expect a new superpower to kick in at some point. not to mention all that had been going on at home before she'd woken up where she had, which she's trying really hard not to think about too much, because there's nothing she can do about it as long as she's here.

to avoid thinking about it all too much, she's been looking for places to direct her energy. fortunately, there's plenty in this place that needs attention. she can occasionally be found working on plumbing, specifically reworking and cleaning pipes and showing others how to do the same, and when not working on that she can be found helping out at one of the food banks.

occasionally she'll notice bands of former soldiers amongst the crowds, and she regards them with a suspicious eye, making sure to keep her head down unless they start in on an innocent bystander. then she'll deliberately put herself a little closer to the action, intent on putting herself between them if it ends up coming to that. ]

SAFEHOUSE

[ as rough as her arrival had been, max quickly realizes it could have been worse. she got to hold on to her own memories and she still has her hair, which is a bigger relief than she's probably going to admit (shaved heads remind her a little too much of manticore, and the fact that she's been experimented on again and has a new power to look forward to is already a lot for her to grapple with). she doesn't exactly have the benefit of experience when it comes to dealing with the newcomers, but she will help out when it comes to handing out bundles of clothing or food, or organizing either or both.

at some point, she'll be seen in the communal bathroom, carefully cataloging the most recent changes to her body - the runes still spread across her back and shoulders, and there's now a small bird tattooed on her left wrist. then, of course, there's the blue piece of a god that's now in her chest.

it hasn't started glowing yet. she's not sure whether that makes her feel better or worse. ]

RED WINGS

[ it seems a good idea to get to know the locals, and she's noticed the locals have tended to gather in this place. she doesn't have a whole lot of money, but she quickly finds that that's not much of an issue in this particular establishment. sometimes she just comes in to duck out of the heat (she's engineered to withstand it to a certain degree, but a girl's got her limits) and maybe play a game of pool or two. (this is how she earns money, or, well, hustles it, but she knows she should probably look into getting an actual job at some point.)

maybe it's a little self-indulgent, but it reminds her just enough of crash to make her feel a little more like herself. if you catch her in the right mood, she'll flash a smile, gesturing with a cue towards the game she's set up. ]

Hey. Feel like playing a round?

WILDCARD

[ feel free to mix and match, or throw something else at me entirely! max's plotting comment can be found here. ]

safehouse

[myfavoritemurder]

[Callisto enters the bathroom with the intent of getting a drink of water from the sink, but instead, she stops dead when she sees Max - not surprised, but definitely interested.]

It's you.

margo hanson » post event things.

[gossipkinesis]

after the aerie.

[ Margo's mood is... sour, to say the least. It wasn't her first time she'd been put into a false reality but somehow, this one stung a lot more. And after a day of sticking close to "home", the humidity of the city drove her out, just to get fresh air and well, she was out of booze.

So sticky and pissed off, Margo will spend a few nights at Red Wings to get a drink, posting up at the bar and hoping to drink away her sorrows, go home with some random person and forget that any of that shit happened.

Because she'd gone from having a family, a close circle of friends and a man who loved her to being... Margo Hanson. A high king without a kingdom, displaced in some world without her best friend and firm ground to walk on.

Turns out, this wasn't the version of herself that she liked at all.]

[laserbeams]

[ Homelander's having the same problem, for the most part. He's a superhero without his full powers, and went from having a real family to being the guy that was raised in a lab again.

He and Margo didn't always get along inside the Aerie, but when it came down to it, they were still siblings. Was it normal for siblings to bicker like that? Maybe. He couldn't say. ]

Hi. [ He takes a seat next to her, not making direct eye contact. Maybe she doesn't even want to talk to her bastard of a "brother", so he doesn't want to look too desperate. ]

laura moon . american gods

[apathet]

END TIMES

[ There's a small crowd gathered around a man in a square in one of the shopping hot spots of New Amsterdam, and although it's too fucking hot to be standing around listening to some guy going off about the end of days and avenging gods, being done with self-aggrandizing spiritual bullshit is a full time job that doesn't care about your physical comfort.

Besides, it's nice that the sun doesn't mean early onset decomposition anymore. She's standing in the sparse gathering of people, arms crossed and face scrunched into a sneer that deepens by the second. If she tweaks this guy's sense of touch just a little, would it make the heat unbearable? Would he shut up and go for shade? Could she do it without anybody noticing?

The entire world just watched her survive some sadistic death games and she's wearing a light sundress that'll do nothing against glowing blue with godlight, so that's a no, but shit if her face doesn't say she'd have liked to meet this guy in the Quarry. ]

SAFEHOUSE-ISH - 27th to the 29th August.

[ The safehouse is a bad idea. Going underground with a bunch of super-powered people who may or may not have a bone to pick? No thanks.

But she may have people here. If it's people she wants to see, great. More important, though, is if it's people she doesn't. If it's Wednesday? Any of the new gods and their cronies? She's going to need to get a head start on it. This world is too vulnerable to talk of gods to let them sink their teeth in.

So she waits until around the time the new arrivals should be free to go, and starts turning up to hover in an alley down the street from the tumbledown garage. ]

a) [ The first day will find her standing around in the alley for a couple of hours, kicking dust around as she bakes in the daytime heat and watches the road. ]

b) [ At some stage, she tries sitting on a heap of discarded metal and yelps out a startled ] Fuck! [ as it burns her thighs. ]

c) [ Day two she brings a cushion, a blanket and a little bag of snacks and drink, bandage-wrapped thighs sticking out from beneath the hem of her dress as she sits some way down the alley, back to the wall, an umbrella playing parasol for some shade and caution thrown most of the way to the wind. Just a little alley picnic on the rough side of town, what about it? ]

d) [ By day three she's lost any interest in playing it safe. She leans against the wall of the alley entrance, dressed in too many layers for the season - bomber jacket done up to her throat - and stares across the street, sunglasses in place to disguise any glances she casts up the road to the building she's actually watching as she stands there in full view of any onlookers. If you're going to use your power to stop yourself from fucking sweltering in the heat, the least you can do is cover the evidence. And if you're going to hang about outside a rebel organisation's secret hiding place, the least you can do is cover that up too. ]

wildcard

( feel free to throw her a wildcard around the city or hit me up on (miscreates) or sculpts#6553 to plot something out! )

end times

[unmoor]

[ he's taking a shortcut through the square even if that means he has to pass by several sweaty freaks who're standing there listening to this absolute lunatic. he shoves one particularly slow guy out of his way and almost gets into a fight with him, but the lady standing behind him hushes at them both to be quiet.

he's about to give her a piece of his mind when the preacher suddenly raises his voice and says something truly outrageous. the crowd responds with quiet commotion, but there are also those who loudly cheer him on, encouraging him to carry on preaching.

hook narrows his eyes and turns to laura who seems like the only sensible person in the crowd. ] Listening to this man speak makes me wonder if I'm slowly losing my own grip on reality as well.