postictal: (behind you)
[personal profile] postictal
[tw: some brutality and beating, later some panic and flashbacking to hospitalization]

Keep your head down, stay off the radar, just act like the normal person you aren't, and everything will be fine.

That was the general idea.


But then, he should've expected something like this. When you come home from work and the door's not been open a minute before a couple ominously stone-faced guys come striding in, it generally throws up a few warning flags. And when opening your mouth to ask um sorry, but what the hell incites one of them to bring you down in a hard tackle that sends your cheek stinging against the carpet and your knees scraping along the ground, pure fight-or-flight impulse kicks in. Fight and flight, actually, and Tim manages to crack one of them a solid right hook across the jaw that leaves a darkening bruise before they wrestle him into submission. Maybe if he wasn't him right now - fuck.

In the end, there isn't much he can do against two guys who look to have something like six inches on him, and a few minutes of hopeless thrashing and several well-placed kicks to his ribs later, it's pretty much a lost cause. The apartment interior's a wreck; Tim definitely heard something shatter on his way to the ground, and he feels the distant, bizarre urge the apologize to Jay for being responsible for fucking things up yet again. He's sorry, Jay, really he is. He didn't mean to this time, honestly.

And that's when one of the guys sinks a fist into his stomach, and Tim loses track of things for a little while as his entire respiratory system promptly goes to shit.

He wakes in a little square room of concrete walls and windowless gloom.

Fuck. Fuck no. He lurches to his feet, all dizziness and nausea, and pounds at the door that looks more solid than any locked hospital door fuck, and he screams let him out and is anyone there? and please I need help please until his voice rasps into hoarseness and his vocal chords feel wet, as if they're torn and bleeding. His fists sting from banging against the door, its impassively hollow tone drumming against his ears. His jacket's gone. His medication. They fucking took it off him, they took everything, they took him away, and if there's anything he can do to help his situation, it's think and be calm and be compliant and be cooperative and not panic right now, which he isn't, who would even think that?

Because he's not a scared little kid anymore. He's not, he swears he's not. There's nothing tall and specter-like in the room with him, and he's not curled in the corner with his knees drawn up and his arms wrapped around them and he's not huddled like he's eight years old again, because he's not the lost little boy crammed into a hospital room with a plethora of confusing and contradictory symptoms. He's not.

It's just a dream, and any moment he's going to wake up.


Apr. 26th, 2015 07:28 pm
applesaucemod: (Default)
[personal profile] applesaucemod
All is right in Manhattan this week.

It is a week like any other. The little creatures that dot the surface of the land scuttle to and fro about their business, each amusingly convinced of its own importance. A number of them relocate themselves with an unusual degree of difficulty. Some die. Some do not die. One or two new ones, the special kind, arrive.

And then…and then something is not right in Manhattan. Something is, in fact, wrong, incorrect, and unacceptable. Two -- no, four -- no, two of the little scuttling things --


-- WHY CAN'T IT --



Gone!! The Rift claps furiously closed, but too late. Too late! They're gone, they've left, and they had no right! It did not permit them! Two they took with them only even existed thanks to the Rift, and those -- THOSE UPSTARTS --

It can't reach the ones who caused the superficial injury that's already healing (that's scarring over, it will NEVER AGAIN ALLOW THIS), and so the Rift lashes out at the ones who remain in their place. It can feel the little pets that remain, all of them, and it will remind them who owns them.

[OOC: Right! Andrew and James have escaped from New York just like Snake Plissken and the Rift is having a shitfit over it. Tag into this post for general Rift-related shenanigans; there will be a separate post for characters who want to attack ROMAC.

The Rift will inflict a wide variety of little inconveniences and torments on the people it considers its own, and players can choose what their characters will face. These should be things that could more or less go unnoticed by the population at large (so no city-wide effects, and please be careful to avoid anything that would effectively godmode other people's characters). Anything that's happened in a past Rift event is fair game, as are personal rainclouds, randomly appearing objects and animals, involuntary transformations, and just about anything else on the personal level. On a somewhat broader level, expect to find random acres of the Ramble transformed into jungle, redwood forest, wintery pines, and various other types of Incorrect Wilderness.]
stronglikebear: (Default)
[personal profile] stronglikebear
Yuri has had a very long night. No one knew about the body in the alley by the rebel apartments until a local spotted it and called the cops, and the rebel leaders hadn't known until a paranoid resident called in thinking the sirens and flashing lights meant their cover had been blown and the building was being raided. There had always the chance that it had been a random human-on-human murder and therefor none of their concern beyond the unfortunate location…except for the part where the victim's heart had literally been torn from his chest.

In a way it's good that the person who found it isn't connected with the underground, if only because none of their rifties were at the scene of the crime when the investigation started. If the rebels had got to it first they could have hidden the body, but that kind of thing is probably easier said than done. Yuri's been trying really hard not to think longingly of things like hiding the body when some guy has lost his life, but it's hard not to be just a little self-centered about all this when it hits so close to home -- not his home, not literally, but the home of a lot of his friends. Rumors have already started circulating that the dead man must have been a rifty, that there was something wrong with his eyes, but just because someone isn't human doesn't mean they deserve that. Not by far.

While NYPD conducts its investigation (and won't it be great if ROMAC manages to horn in on that?), the rebels quietly conduct one of their own. Staff on duty last night have been questioned, spatters of blood have been discovered in the lobby and very thoroughly expunged, and Blythe spent the hours before dawn digging through case files in search of someone who might be capable of doing that, or who matches the janitor's description of the handful of people he ran into over the course of his shift. Nothing totally matches up -- no one listed ripping people's hearts out as a power or pastime on their 'immigration' form -- but there are a couple rifties who might be capable of it and/or who professed vigilantism at some point. While Kuiv and other less expendable more tactical members and enforcers of the upper echelon are busy tying up loose ends that might snag the cops' attention and draw it to the apartment building, Yuri is dispatched to the building to conduct an informal investigation.

After the night he's had and Blythe's failure to turn up a likely suspect, Yuri's finally starting to feel a little hopeful that it really was just a coincidence, even if the guy was a rifty. It could have been a ROMAC hit, or the rifties involved might be among the ones in the city who haven't been scooped up by either organization. His visit is less a raid, then, than checking in on Spike and a few others to find out if anyone's heard anything suspicious…or fallen off the wagon. He's been to a few apartments already this morning, so maybe he's not looking as close as he should for any more signs of that blood trail that left off at the elevator. Phone in one pocket, pepper spray in another and a small iron bar concealed in his hand --

Hang on, no, that's the next one. Yuri consults his notepad, pockets the iron, and digs out a cross instead. He'd put the cord around his neck, but it seems kind of rude to show up looking like he's expecting trouble. Instead he just curls his fingers around the wooden form and lets that hand hang by his side as he knocks on the door.
vlad_dracul: (Default)
[personal profile] vlad_dracul
Generally, Dracula's sleep is deep. He is as unresponsive and unaware as if he were truly dead. It takes a tremendous effort to rouse him from his slumber. This makes him vulnerable during the day, though not as susceptible to sunlight as some believe. Dracula is very aware of these weaknesses, of course, though he generally feels quite safe, locked inside his high rise apartment in Chicago, with all of its security measures, both ones provided by the unsuspecting, breathing owners and those he has arranged himself.

So, Dracula is quite surprised to transition, with no further memories, from a deep sleep to walking in a wooded and unfamiliar park. He knows only that he is not in Chicago...the smells, the rhythm of life around him, everything is wrong for the city he had grown to know and love. Fortunately, he is also well-rested and well-fed, since he arrives during the day, with sunset still hours away.

Dracula isn't overly concerned about the daylight. After all, he can survive direct sunlight, provided he is well-rested and uninjured. It's not exactly comfortable, but it's far from fatal. He isn't concerned about feeding, either. If anything, the city will simply notice a small decrease in the numbers of vermin and stray animals, until he can make other arrangements. No, there is really only one thing that truly worries Dracula.

Where and how is he going to sleep? He needs to sleep in his native soil, which he doesn't have with him. Without sleep, true death will take him and he is not ready to die. As he ponders this problem, he walks. As the sun begins to set, he leaves the park, heading instinctively towards the nearest cemetery. He can feel the peaceful dead and hopes to find refuge of sorts, there. Perhaps, if he is very, very lucky, he will find that some other vampire has copied his trick and placed Wallachian soil in this place. It is the slimmest of hopes, but all that he has.

(ooc: Feel free to join him in either the park or the cemetery. :D)
applesaucemod: (Default)
[personal profile] applesaucemod
On the morning of May 6th, 2013, the citizens of Rift York will awaken to find themselves with a new and unexpected roommate. Or two. Or five. The good news: these new roommates don't eat much, they're quiet, and they're pretty adorable. The bad news: no one asked for their homes to be overrun by Angora rabbits.

The rift isn't in the habit of giving people what they ask for, though, so you're just going to have to deal with these bunnies everywhere until the evening of May 8th, when they will disappear as mysteriously and suddenly as they arrived. In the meantime, you might consider them a goodwill gesture from a rift that isn't always so kind. The rabbits seem to be most heavily concentrated in areas where rifties are staying, after all. While Manhattan at large might not appreciate the full extent of the bunnypocalypse, the rifties will find the creatures quite difficult to avoid.

Feel free to post your character's reactions here, or to make your own entries under the event tag. The event will be running for the next two days in-game, or through January 19th in real life. As ever, backdating is allowed and encouraged.
stronglikebear: (misc | bad taste)
[personal profile] stronglikebear
Here he is again. This is going to be a bad one, of that Yuri is sure. Of course, he believes every month is going to be a bad one -- and he's pretty much always right -- but he's been on edge for days and knows that today is going to be a long, long day. He's been up all night, which hasn't helped a bit with the general crankiness and anxiety, but wistful thoughts of his bed are countered easily enough by the desire to be as worn out and sleepy as possible once the transformation comes. It's going to be a daytime full moon, which somehow makes it feel like the universe is picking on him. He's looking at over fourteen hours in the cage, from a little after five in the morning probably until past eight at night.

Last month had been partly during daylight hours, too, and last month he'd gone stir crazy. There had been complaints (or at least worried comments) about strange noises from a handful of people who had wandered closer to the locked corridor leading to his cage than he liked, and Yuri had bloodied his nose and torn a paw pad in his irritation at being shut in while the whole world was awake and waiting to be chased about.

Relations with Daine have been strained for a long time, but it's not like he didn't end up dragging her into things last month anyway when he fell asleep as a bear and invaded her dreams. It's been made pretty clear to him by the higher-ups that he's not to have anyone in the room with the cage while he's a bear after what happened with Edgar...which is why he didn't discuss today's plans with the higher-ups. Kuiv can (and has been) talked into turning a blind eye, if only because he's promised he'll do his best to let Daine shut him up and stop him making so much noise.

He slips into the cell before dawn, a little over half an hour before the shift is expected to take hold. There's the usual rigmarole of stripping down, wrapping himself in a ragged blanket, and leaving his clothing outside the cage, and then there's really nothing to do except wait for Daine...and for the bear.
peeta_mellark: (Uncertain)
[personal profile] peeta_mellark
The heavy jungle air feels like water in his lungs as Peeta waits by the lightning tree. Finnick circles the small clearing under the tree's vast branches, his focus on the treeline and any approaching danger, but Peeta's eyes are glued to the gently twitching wire that is his only connection to Katniss. As much as he trusts their group, as much as he understands why Beetee split them up the way he did, Peeta doesn't like being away from Katniss, especially now. He has a bad feeling, a crawling under his skin that he can't shake.

The others don't notice when the wire gives a particularly violent shake; Beetee is working on the opposite side of the tree, and Finnick's circular route has taken him to that side as well. Peeta is already instinctively walking toward the wire when it loses tautness, sliding through the grass with a shushing sound as it retreats toward the tree.

Peeta grabs the wire and gives it a tug. There is no tension to the line, nothing to indicate that someone is holding the other end.

“Finnick,” he says, heart pounding so loudly in his ears he can't tell whether he shouts or whispers the name. Panic rising in him, he gives the wire a rough heave and feels it fly, weightless and untethered. “Finnick!”

Terror has sharpened the edges of the world, and his own yell cuts through him like an icy blade. He's already running, traversing the uneven, rocky slope in desperate leaps, when Finnick catches up to him.

“Veer that way!” Finnick calls, pointing to their left. “I'll search more on this side.”

Peeta doesn't have the breath do more than nod, but Finnick doesn't wait for a response before he pulls away, his longer stride quickly taking him farther down the slope and beyond Peeta's vision. Peeta angles more to his left, searching frantically for any sign of Katniss, or Johanna. He yells their names, but the sound doesn't seem to make it more than a few feet before being enveloped by the thick air.

All his worst nightmares begin to unfold, stretching out from the back of his mind to frolic in harsh daylight. Every noise sounds like the beginning of cannon fire. Over every ridge, behind every rock or tree he expects to find Katniss, bloody and broken and dead. Little moments flash through his mind: the way the light played across her face in the Justice Building dome, the mixture of terror and anger that had been in her eyes at the Reaping, opening his eyes after dying to see her face. He thinks about the way she has started to look at him.

He can hear the sound of water and knows he is getting close to the beach again when the clouds above the treetops start to darken and swirl. He stares up at them, shielding his eyes from the glare of the sun from the rest of the arena. Increasingly worried, he turns back up the slope, intending to head toward where he last saw Finnick. But even as he takes a step in that direction, lightning flashes from high up in the forest, and a bright shockwave blasts across the sky. The force of the blast makes the ground tremble beneath his feet and he stumbles slightly.

Peeta's first thought is that something has exploded, and he is partially right. Through a large gap in the trees, he can see that the sky above the lightning tree has split open, revealing what looks like girders and wiring. Then fireworks erupt across the entire dome, covering the arena in a frenetic light show that makes his head swim and throws odd patches of shadow and light that make his frantic scurrying over the rocks even more treacherous.

He thinks he's screaming Katniss's name, but the sound of the fireworks is so loud he can't hear anything else. Then, as abruptly as they started, the fireworks stop, and the arena fades into twilight. In the sudden silence, his call for Katniss seems to echo.

He can hear the hovercraft before he sees it, and his stomach drops. For a split second, options for hiding places speed through his mind, but the craft is over him before he can move. Uncertain whether he should run, whether he should attempt to keep looking for Katniss, whether there is still someone to look for, he stares up at the bright light on the bottom of the craft and blinks.

Peeta finds himself staring up at the sun, and he quickly looks away, surprised and confused.

He glances around in bewilderment: the trees that surround him are unfamiliar and too widely spaced to match anything he has seen so far in the arena, the land is much flatter and tamer, and – where is the hovercraft? Crouching slightly, he flicks a worried gaze around the treetops. The hovercraft was just above him, but now he can't see it. It couldn't have missed him; it was no doubt sent especially for him and its absence now is somehow more ominous than its presence was. He can't hear the craft, either, though there is a strange sound in the air, a faint, dull, indeterminate humming or roaring that he can't identify.

Katniss. His raw panic for her, momentarily outstripped by disorientation and confusion, roars back to life. The urge to call out, to locate her – to locate anyone – rises unbidden and burning in his chest, but he clenches his teeth together until it passes, convinced that doing so would only bring trouble. Instead, he edges under the shelter of the treeline and more closely surveys his surroundings from the safety of the shadows.

Where is he? This can't be the arena – however much control the Gamekeeper has over the arena environment, he couldn't completely change the layout, the vegetation, even the sky in the split second of a blink. Peeta would have noticed.

But what if they drugged you? a sly voice whispers in the back of his mind. They could have taken you anywhere.

Peeta shakes his head. If he had been drugged, he would have noticed that too. And he wouldn't have come to standing straight up, staring at the sky. Something else is going on. He has to find the others. He has to find Katniss.

Ignoring the voice, now telling him that maybe the others aren't here at all, maybe they're dead, he begins to work his way through the trees, unsure of which direction he is going or what he might find. As he walks, he notices that the air smells different than it did in the arena, and while the arena was hot and humid, wherever he is now has a lighter, cooler temperature. The sweat on his body starts to cool and he shivers slightly, but he stays under the trees. However inviting the sun may appear, walking in it would leave him exposed and vulnerable, and he has no idea who or what might be looking for him.

So on he walks, looking for signs of life, for anything that will tell him where he is and what is happening.
theoldgirl: (distant shores)
[personal profile] theoldgirl
It's a beautiful, cold March day in New York, and street cleaners are upon us!

[Anyone receiving Cecil's broadcast on their phone or other device will be quite convinced of its veracity, thanks to his Radio Voice now being a rift power. Listeners can either call in at the broadcast post to discuss current events / ask for survival tips / tell their loved ones good bye, or use this post to act out their totally irrational justified panic.

But, here are the good news! (Real good news, not life-is-pointless-but-at-least-ice-cream-exists good news.) Since Cecil will make another broadcast the next day saying that nothing unusual actually happened, your characters won't actually remember this crisis as a crisis, so you can backtag to your heart's content without it affecting later events. Go somewhat literally nuts! And really make the TARDIS feel like a moron for letting Cecil do this.]

stronglikebear: (misc | bad taste)
[personal profile] stronglikebear
Sometimes Yuri wonders why he goes on freelancing as a writer. He doesn't need the money; he could live alright on the allowance the rebels give him, and it's not like there's ever an end to the work to be done around the base. It's kind of like being back in school, facing a deadline on an essay. At least, it's like that when he's not having fun with now. He shouldn't have accepted this job writing consumer guides, because now he has to sift through a bunch of stuff about an online dating service he's never heard of and try to turn it into something readable.

He decides he's been staring at his computer screen for way too long when he realizes he's been on the same sentence for ten minutes. Grumbling to himself, he shuts the little laptop down and gets up to stretch. A circuit of his tiny room leaves him feeling only more restless, and with a slightly guilty backwards glance, he tugs on a jacket and slips out the door. It'll still be there later; the deadline's not that close, right? And in the meantime he could use a walk.

[ooc: Characters can run into him in the rebel base, near the entrance to the base, in the park, wandering around a random subway station...pretty much anywhere he could get on foot.]
beastisbeauty: (roars)
[personal profile] beastisbeauty
Bruce is slowly acquainting himself with this version of New York City. He tries to spend as much time as he can in his labs, but there is only so much that can be done in a day. Sometimes, science requires patience, sitting back and letting things happen.

Also, there is the very real possibility that he will spend the rest of his life here. Bruce doesn't intend to spend it alone, isolated from the people of this world. He's had enough of that in his life. As difficult as it is for him, Bruce knows he has to make connections and find people who are willing to accept both him and the Hulk.

He needs the Hulk to learn how to quickly tell friend from foe.

Unfortunately, Bruce's deep thoughts mean he is not paying enough attention to his surroundings. He crosses the road at the last moments before the crossing light changes from "walk" to "don't walk." Unfortunately, a car also speeds towards him, barely pausing at a stop sign.

The result is Bruce getting hit in the side by the car and going flying over the hood.

This wakes the Hulk up.

Hulk ignores the driver, who gets out of the car to help Bruce and then flees, when he sees the Hulk. Instead, the Hulk focuses on the man's car, pummeling it angrily and tearing it into pieces. This only takes a few moments, then Hulk stops and looks around the street. People are screaming and running, but, so far, no one is trying to hurt Hulk or shooting stupid bullets.
wildmage_daine: (determined)
[personal profile] wildmage_daine
It's well past her usual bedtime when Daine slips out of her room, a blanket wrapped around her like a cloak. Aside from the blanket, she's wearing nothing but the Badger's claw and a pair of shoes. Given her plans for the evening, it makes more sense to forego proper clothes. It'll certainly be more convenient this way.

Edgar's door is shut, and she holds her breath as she pads past it. She doesn't expect that he'll interrupt them again tonight, but on the off chance he does come looking for her, she's left a note for him on her bed: Everything's fine. Back soon. She was sorely tempted to add, Don't try to find me, but she's counting on his memory of what happened last time to keep him from doing anything foolish.

The corridors are deserted thanks to the late hour, and it isn't long before she's in an area of the base that would probably be empty even in the middle of the day. As far as most of the rebels know, there's nothing down here.

There's a newly reinforced door at the end of the hall, and she rearranges her grip on the blanket so she can push it open. It has a reassuring heft to it, and when she passes through, she notes the addition of some more silver on the other side. The second door has been similarly reinforced, and so has the third, from the looks of things. But by then, her focus has shifted to the purpose of her visit.

Daine steps into the room and eyes the new cage. "Hullo."
stronglikebear: (Default)
[personal profile] stronglikebear
Yuri wanders through the park, eyes open for anyone who looks lost and confused -- or more lost and confused than most people he's seen today. Everyone seems to be getting on okay over at the fountain, and he's thinking of heading back to the base and seeing if there's anything he can do there instead. He feels useless, but at least his body doesn't hurt anymore, thanks to Gabriel.

Making up his mind, he turns for home. He can't think what he'll actually do there, but maybe he can seek out Blythe and see if she's organized anything.
stronglikebear: (.bear | back off)
[personal profile] stronglikebear
Big as he is, strong as he is, Yuri is not immune to the whammy put on him by Gabriel, or to the strong sedatives administered by Romac. He sleeps like the dead, not even stirring when the truck comes to a stop after a series of increasingly frequent turns and he's dragged back out of the back. The agents of Romac make quick work of transferring him to a reinforced cage that puts his own cage back at the rebel base to shame. He's not awake to notice the irony of them placing water and food dishes in the cage, or the bed of straw on which they lay him.

He's not awake, either, to notice that he's not quite so alone as they think he is once they lock the door and leave him.
applesaucemod: (Default)
[personal profile] applesaucemod
Due to the crisis and inability to effectively communicate, by noon people have started to gather at the rift center at Bethesda Terrace in the park.

People from both Romac and the rebels, as well as people attached to neither group, are gathering together for support and a place where no one expects them to speak. Since maps can still be understood without words or numbers, many people end up being directed here as a gathring place.

Someone has paid for a hotdog vendor to give out free food, and several people are going around offering coffee and hot cocoa. The edge of the fountain is covered with blankets for people to sit on.

Post a comment with your character, and go tag other people!


Apr. 7th, 2013 07:40 pm
stronglikebear: (annoyed | seriously dude?)
[personal profile] stronglikebear
Yuri sighs as he trudges down the corridor. He's been feeling grouchy the last few days, his temper shortening and his hunger growing. In other words, he feels just like he does every month. Even though he's just had dinner, he finds himself thinking longingly of breakfast.

He also finds himself thinking of Daine as he checks each of the doors he passes, making sure for the fourth or fifth time that they've been put back together right. He made her promise not to come visit him -- or at least, he told her she had as good as promised and that he'd hold her to it, even if she said no such thing herself. She should never have come to see him the first time, and he won't have her on his conscience because she came again and got hurt or turned. Caught up in his thoughts, he isn't careful enough with the second door, and burns himself on a spoon. Without making a conscious decision to do it, he lashes out, hitting the door so it swings and rebounds off the wall, rattling the silverware. Sheepishly, he sticks his fingertip in his mouth and hurries on -- he has time yet before the transformation, but it's getting harder to keep his head.

He's several steps into the room with the cage before it registers that he's not alone. Freezing in the middle of the room, he lets out a huff that's halfway between annoyance and despair.

"Get out."
has_a_horn: (multiples | frenetic)
[personal profile] has_a_horn
Gabriel likes to know both sides of the story. When he'd first gotten dumped out here in New York, he'd been introduced to the idea of Romac and the Rebel faction. So far, he's met Romac, he's seen their set-up, gotten a feel of what they're up to. What he hasn't had is a chance to see inside the highly acclaimed rebel base, or get more than a gist of their goals, which is why he decides to go looking for it.

Someone he'd talked to about the rebels had said they were underground. Of course, that could have been a metaphor, but underground is as good a place as any to start looking. It would have be close to the park and the rift, so it's lunchtime, and Gabriel is sitting along the wall at Fifth Avenue station watching people rush to and fro. He's reading minds, looking for clues to where he can find an in to the base, but also just sitting and enjoying the show.

He'd spent the morning right here.

Two hours before, he'd watched as a businessman pushed aside a young woman in a rush to get on his leaving train. Gabriel smiled and made him think that the doors to the train were already closed, then watched as he ran after the train, tripped, and fractured his wrist. Half an hour after that, he amplifies the music of an amazing busker with a violin. Half an hour after that, he fails to get the violinists' phone number, even after a fairly impressive magic show.

Half an hour later, he'd lounged across the bench that now, mysteriously, does not have seat dividers, his eyes closed as he listened. He snapped his fingers and a candy-cane appeared. He unwrapped it and shoved it into his mouth. At the far end of the platform, a man who was considering groping the girl in front of him was groped by a tall burly man in a leather vest who then disappeared.

Now, he's sitting upright again, and he's getting bored. He brings another candy cane out (green apple) and starts looking around for something more entertaining to do.
wildmage_daine: (Default)
[personal profile] wildmage_daine
Daine is stretched out on a cot with a pile of books in front of her and a skinny cat curled up by her side. She leafs through one of the volumes with interest, if not any real sense of urgency. She's still not convinced that she's going to be staying in this realm for very long, so learning more than the absolute basics about the place seems like a waste of her time--or it would, if she had anything else to do with it.

What she wants to do is go back to the park and look for the rift, but the two-leggers in charge have made it clear that leaving the base wouldn't be wise until she knows more about New York. After what she's seen out there, she begrudgingly agrees with them.

She's reaching for a book called Rules of the Road when there's a flare of pain in her head, and she accidentally knocks the book off of the cot. The cat, Shadow, raises his head sharply as Daine grips the sheets, brow furrowed. Mithros, where had that come from? It almost felt like...

There's another flicker of wild magic in her mind, and she pushes herself upright, all thoughts of reading forgotten. There's a bear in the base. There's a bear, and it's hurt. And angry.

Daine slips on her boots, grabs her bow, and leaves her room, Shadow trotting silently behind her.
wildmage_daine: (haaair)
[personal profile] wildmage_daine
Daine Sarrasri knows that wandering about with only Cloud and the other People for company might not be the wisest idea she's ever had, but the recent snowfall--the first of the season--is too tempting. It's been months since she's had the chance to take a quiet ride for no reason but the pleasure of it, with no particular destination in mind and no need to hurry. Given how busy things have been--and how busy they're likely to get, as it's only a matter of time before some immortals cause a ruckus somewhere--she's happy to seize the chance while she has it.

At least there haven't been any new holes torn in the barrier lately, and the forest around the castle is safer than most, thanks to frequent patrols. It's not a guarantee that there won't be trouble, but she has her bow--already strung, just in case--and she's quick enough with her shifting that she's not too worried. If anything, it's Cloud's safety that might be a concern. Daine taking a hawk shape and flying off wouldn't do her pony much good.

Cloud lets out an indignant snort, reminding Daine that she's not a helpless foal in need of coddling. If there's trouble, it's as likely to come from the stork-man as an immortal.

Daine can't help smiling at Cloud's less-than-flattering nickname for Numair, but it turns into a wince a moment later. She isn't sure what to think about her teacher's recent protective streak. Given what happened in Carthak, she supposes it was fair enough at the time… but she hopes he isn't planning on continuing with it now that they're home. She doesn't think he'd get into a pet over her outing, but she wasn't certain enough to tell him about it and risk his grousing.

A jay's warning call startles Daine and Cloud, who stops in her tracks. There's something up ahead that has the People upset, and Daine catches something through the bare branches--a glimmer, or a flicker--that reminds her of the holes she's seen torn in the barrier. A quick survey of the nearby animals confirms that there are no two-leggers about, though. Barring mages, who--or what--could be making the hole? Daine's mind races as she slips off Cloud's back. Is the barrier so weak that holes are just appearing? There's a problem they don't need.

"Stay put," Daine orders Cloud as she draws an arrow from her quiver and edges toward the spot where the flickers seemed to be coming from. If any nasties show up, she wants Cloud to have a head start. She doesn't feel any nasties, though; there's no unpleasant buzz of an angry immortal in her mind. If there is a hole in the barrier, nothing seems to be passing through it. Frowning, she steps forward.

There's a whinny from Cloud, and then the world gives a sickening tilt that blurs Daine's vision and sends her sprawling. She lands harder than she expected, because there's suddenly no snow to cushion her. Instead, there's a crunch of frozen grass, and the wind is knocked out of her.

As she gasps for air, she realizes that she can no longer hear Cloud, not even in her mind. Her range with Cloud ought to be miles; how can she not hear her? In a panic, she casts her magic out like a net. There are squirrels, pigeons, a few horses, a fair number of cats and dogs, rats (lots of rats), and--she jerks back as soon as she reaches a menagerie, though she hears enough in that brief moment to confirm that it's not their majesties', but one she doesn't recognize.

Belatedly, she realizes that sending out her magic might have been a mistake. All the People in her range are now aware that she's here and eager to meet her (with the exception of the rats, who are no more welcoming now than they were in Carthak), and she's in no position to greet them properly. Please, not yet, she silently calls as she waits for her head to stop spinning. I'd love to meet you all, but I need a little time, first. There's an agreeable ripple of response, and most of the People go back to whatever they were doing before she interrupted them.

After a steadying breath, Daine pushes herself up and blinks to clear her vision. She doesn't recognize anything, not the smooth lawn, or the trees, or the handful of gray squirrels eyeing her curiously. Even the air is unfamiliar.

Where is she?
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[personal profile] beastisbeauty
It's Christmas Day and Bruce could use a miracle or two. He doesn't know how he got here or how to get back. He can't find Tony or Avenger's Tower. To be honest, Bruce is a bit disgusted with himself at how easily he got used to having a team to rely on and a home to go back to. He's been living in a homeless shelter, looking for work. Naturally, he's missing some important papers, so he needs under the table work. That's all right. Bruce has experience at this sort of thing. Right now, he's heading for the docks, to see if he can get some work there.


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The Big Applesauce


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