multiversallogs | Recent Entries

Who: Ivan and YOU, yes you, get over here
What: Gambling and dropping eaves
Where: Mafaton mainly, though if you have something else in mind, hit me
When: Once Ilde is out of the hospital (and he is sure Sonja knows where she is; I imagine they're just handing her off, now).
Notes:
Warnings: None as yet.

Ilde has been released, none the worse for wear. (Physically at least.) But Ivan can't quite leave it at that. It shouldn't have happened, and it especially shouldn't have happened the way it did. He is patient, but not endlessly so.

Anyone who knows him well (in this, Mitchell, Daniil,... maybe Hal, but he doesn't expect to run into any of them tonight) can tell he's had more blood tonight than strictly willing donors could have provided. He's still and calm with the clarity that follows a proper kill. A death. Just one, and he was careful. He smiles, and makes idle chit-chat as necessary, but mostly Ivan listens, as he plays.

He appears to take note of nothing. He takes note of everything.

And always, even if he has killed tonight - carefully - there's the hum in the back of his head that comes from constantly depriving himself here. He's not gotten to the point where he has to be chained in Valhalla's basement. Nowhere near But he'd be lying if he said he didn't understand how Hal had gotten there. He's used to satisfying himself and then moving along. And even in a city as large as Baedal, the lack of that option is beginning to wear.

Still, for most who look tonight, there's a detached, sarcastic but not unpleasant Ivan present at his usual tables, winning a little more than he loses, and seeming not to care either way.

gramarye

Who: Wolfgang, Benji, later Benny
What: Wolfgang goes off his meds, has a major psychotic break, and then tries to pretend nothing happened.
Where: Nawiedzonydom, Badside; later, Madrasati
When: Some nebulous point after the Spatters raid/riots?
Warnings: Drug use, body horror, self-injury, mental illness, psychiatric abuse of children.

( we never are what we intend or invent. )

snaketrap

Who: Loki and YOU???
What: So, Loki kills the guy who comes to release him from the room and he immediately gets branded and black bagged. Dragged back to The Spire, he's shoved in a sensory deprivation chamber of some sort for possibly a week or maybe two.
Where: The Arena; Griss Twist
When: Weeks after his arrival
Notes: Nothing yet.
Warnings: Possible violence / terribleness; who knows!

( I am as dusk come to ravish the light )

cerebral

Who: Charles Xavier.
What: Comings and goings.
Where: Back home and the arrival cell.
When: Givdi 16th of Caraden.
Notes: Some scenes from the past three months.
Warnings: N/A.

( I swear, I end up feeling empty, like you’ve taken something out of me, and I have to search / my body for the scars, thinking / Did he find that one last tender place to sink his teeth in? )

caballero

Who: Bruce Wayne, Poison Ivy, and some unwelcome guests.
What: Refugees from the Spatters raids are found by the Militia. The Militia is found by someone else.
Where: Barrackham, the forests. Later, the moonpools.
When: A bit after Ivy's arrival.
Notes: /DEVOURS THE LOG COMM
Warnings: Violence and police brutality against minors, xenophobia, mind control/coercion references, will edit more as needed. (DC characters bring the party.)

( i thought that i could organize freedom )

caballero

Who: Batman & Wolverine.
What: Good old fashioned vigilantism.
Where: Various places across the city.
When: Over the past few weeks.
Notes: Catching up on some mysterious events.
Warnings: Violence and language.

( the freedom fighter that got the whole world terrified )

mayqueen

Who: Ivy and you!
What: Wandering, irritation, flowers? Come and bother a barefoot green woman wearing a leotard made of plants.
Where: Mostly around Mog Hill, extending into the surrounding districts (Bonetown, Saltbur, Pincod, Echomire, as far as the river to the west and south) - also the forest in Sobek Croix, around the evening.
When: Today (Coardi)
Warnings: Unlikely but will edit as needed.

She had to convince herself to take anything except her seed case. The vouchers and the money were stuffed into an empty compartment she kept for discoveries made on the road; though she had no intention of staying at the Valhalla Inn, or buying clothes for that matter, perhaps they'd have value as currency. Taking the CiD had been the hardest decision to make - she couldn't imagine a more blatantly obvious tracking device - but overall it was better to be informed than not and she'd bound it to her waist with vines for the time being.

Her encounters with the staff at the Inn had been fleeting to say the very least. Now she was outside, feet planted on the earth, and the faintly disturbing pamphlet had been accurate: this wasn't home. The plants spoke to her, mostly, sometimes in tones and languages she didn't yet understand - but they didn't recognize her, didn't love her as they did anywhere on her Earth. It prompted a sense of loneliness she wasn't familiar with; even in Arkham's most secure cells she'd always been aware of the Green just outside its walls, waiting for her to step back into its embrace.

For time time being she was wandering, taking in the lay of the land, sometimes hesitating for passing glances at the shops and business but not straying inside. More often it would be trees or wild flowers that would make her stop, her eyes closing briefly, the act of communication sometimes coaxing a little extra life from the plants she paused to speak with.

cestrumnocturnum

Who: Benji Ryans (and later, Wolfgang Einhorn)
What: Just a little law and order.
Where: The Spatters
When: All of 31st.
Note: During the raid, there is a halt on all communications going in and out of the Spatters -- no media is leaked, and the reception for CiD is just flat out poor. In the aftermath, there's a blackout of information.
Warnings: References to police brutality.

( he's in the best selling show )

selfmadman

Who: Don Draper and Pepper Potts
What: Not quite business as usual.
Where: Don's office/apartment, Sunter
When: After the distribution of lottery spoils (so BACKDATED).
Warnings: The map is not the territory.

Donald Draper, is what the envelope has to say. Nothing else. He flips it on its back, slits it open. Stops putting off pouring a drink.

Baedal traced in different hands. Lines that surge bold through Howl Barrow drain by Chimer into scratches; alleys and groves detailed as flourishes, scribbles, amputee triangles. The fog dissipated, no longer a malevolent swirl.

He folds it up, hands working quick and sloppy. It has the feel of paper but more elasticity, gives like whatever's caving in his chest.

He goes to find a steering wheel to spread the map over. The door slams after him.

Night's descending when he returns—not drunk but looking it, the sway of the El in his gait, city on him like a stench, eyes slipping past her to the window. “Calls?”

wontturntofoam

Who: Shrieky and Benji
What: Look! Look! It's a demonically tainted nightmare!
Where: In Wolfgang's Haus of frands
When: Pre-Fairytale plot
Notes: nope!
Warnings: Nightmares, demons, and flies. Possibly some body horror, because Shrieky has issues.

Shrieky slept naked, which could have made this a little awkward in different circumstances. His bedroom had originally had two beds in it, but he's pushed them together into one super bed, so that Benji can sit up in it reading while he waits to go to sleep.

Shrieky, for his own part, has pulled the blanket that he stole from Yahlii - his missing and presumed dead former housemate - up and around himself, so that his arms and legs are wrapped in a loose cocoon of fabric. Normally, he'd sleep more casually, with his limbs sticking out at awkward angles from beneath the quilt. He's making allowances though, to try and preserve Benji's precious eyes from having to see his junk. Again. ~~Shrieky has difficulties with navigation in the morning, and he's very sorry about that one time, okay?~~

He shifts, slightly, watching her through heavily lidded eyes.

"So, once I'm gone, you'll be able to follow me in? You'll find me quickly, won't you?"

He knows the answers already, she's been more than thorough in her explanations. By now he's just talking to delay the encroaching tide of sleep that's poised to overcome him.

aarnethompson

Who: Alba, Alexia Swiftdawn, Anna Demirovna, Bruce Wayne, Cliona Donovan, Data, Don Draper, Ilde Decima, Irene Adler, Jae-hyun Kim, Jaime Lannister, Kalinda Sharma, Marie-Sixtine St. Vincent, Martel, Nuray Amedi, Penelope Lane, Odessa Wander, Pepper Potts, Rex Lewis, Seoraj, Shrieky, Sunny, Wolfgang Einhorn, Xas
What: Something bad is afoot, and you must help.
Where: Abrogate Green, Badside, Barrackham, Chnum, Echomire, Flag Hill, Gallmarch, Ketch Heath, Pelorus Fields, Raven's Gate, Sangwine, Serpolet, Sobek Croix, Stoneshell, and the northern woods
When: July 22nd to the 30th
Notes: People are slow right now and a few are on hiatus, so slow-tagging and back-tagging are totally fine. Please check the accompanying OOC post for info and to coordinate.
Warnings: Disturbing content, will include violence, choking, drowning, body horror, and animal death.

Strange events tend to go unnoticed in Baedal, compared to the much stranger things happening around them. People don't tend to be noticed when they go missing, either. The city takes these things in stride. After all, people get called back to their homeworld all the time, or they die. Everyone knows this.

Still, rumors start cropping up around the city about the sudden appearance of twelve identical towers positioned around the city like the face of a clock...

ALBA ♞ Cliona Donovan
DON DRAPER ♞ Pepper Potts, Kalinda Sharma
ILDE DECIMA ♞ Irene Adler, Marie-Sixtine St. Vincent
JAE-HYUN KIM ♞ Sunny
MARTEL ♞ Data, Jaime Lannister
NURAY AMEDI ♞ Alexia Swiftdawn, Anna Demirovna
ODESSA WANDER ♞ Rex Lewis
SEORAJ ♞ Bruce Wayne
SHRIEKY ♞ Xas
WOLFGANG EINHORN ♞ Penelope Lane

heardmermaids

Who: Sebastian LeMat, a collection of people from his cohort, and a few NPCs.
What: Podder gets a cake that a giant sat on?
Where: The Ankh
When: Givdi night.
Notes: Feel free to make your own threads, hop about, threadjack, etc.
Warnings: None. Yet.

As far as Sebastian is concerned, The Ankh is one of the better places to go in Baedal - accommodating staff, good food, nice ambiance, they're comfortable with Velcro and don't mind that he likes to sit at a table with clear lines of sight. While it's nothing he'll admit to, Sebastian knows that Christmas doesn't make him miss his friends and Britain quite as much as his birthday does. If pressed, he would likely say that the holidays are a celebration and a tradition, but his birthday has always been the sign of things to come, of the promise of a better year, and a reminder that change is always possible.

boomvox

Who: Sunny & Jae.
What: Post-horrors decompressing, and some words.
Where: Sunny's apartment.
When: After they escape the disastrous fashion show. (So.. A WHILE AGO we do what we want.)
Warnings: Discussion of traumatic events, EMBARRASSING CRYING, feelings.

( don't lay down and die )

egodefence

Who: Gaius Baltar and You!
What: He's taking it well.
Where: Either in Mog Hill or not very far from it.
When: Coardi morning. Or, you know, whenever.
Notes: I'd like to get him around about so if this first set up is tagged into, shout at me if you'd like to do things and I can set up a thread!
Warnings: Crying, mainly.

The appeal of an open sky had long since lost its shine after the first few months on solid ground.

But this is different. A functional city, new faces that glance by him without recognition. Animals, economy, the simple sight of a carriage wheel trundling over wet cobblestone. The weather is warm and dry. Standing on the curb a stone's throw from the edge of the Valhalla Inn is Gaius Baltar, who -- while not the most poetic of human beings -- is in awe. Awe in the traditional sense, the kind that is on the verge of teary-eyed terror. It hadn't even occurred to him to do anything with his CiD than check it -- its content was, of course, a lie, and he'd spent the next few hours of his imprisonment in the green tiled room simply curled up in crustaceous defensiveness in the corner and waiting to see what the Cylons would do next.

He has some things in his hand. A cardboard box with some sort of branding is held loosely at his side, and the infamous brochure clutched in his other fist, significantly crumpled. Both of these things are ignored after having been obsessed over prior to now as he regards the street without any idea of what to do.

But he starts walking.

And eventually sits down when he's put a little distance between where he began and now without any real clear idea of where he is, just that there was an empty bench and now it is his. The brochure is folded with slightly trembling fingers and pocketed in the inner of his jacket, before he sets the box in his lap, opens it, and extracts one dark coloured cigarette. Gaius, dressed as he is in his slightly unwashed business suit, his glasses sitting low on his nose and hair in worried, greasy tangles, realises he doesn't have a lighter on him.

"Oh gods," is pure, exasperated despair, landing his face in his hands.

alan_shore

Who: Alan Shore and Mycroft Holmes
What: Probably not bellyrubs :(
Where: A CONVERTED FARMHOUSE!!
When: Givdi, Rundaren 19th
Warnings: Honesty, existential angst, industrial strength stupidity.

Alan goes shopping. He calls it a day and leaves the office—he has a headache, or that's a way of putting it: his mind like a pencil twisting over and over again in a sharpener, every attempt at a thought another lead broken off. He feels groggy, unsteady on his feet, and that's in addition to the ache of remote but persistent loss that accompanies a friendship's flashing before his eyes.

“I need a small box,” he tells stall attendants, shaping it with his fingers, and there's something pleasing about the variety of forms an object so simple can take. The task, at least, suits him—suits his present mood and mental state. He peers into the snug, empty interiors of thirty or so containers, unveiling a seldom displayed solemnity for the duration of the search.

The next day, having dispatched a warning text an hour in advance, he knocks at Mycroft's door.

controlledvariable

Who: Steph Brown, Bruce Banner, a monster
What: Fraggle Rock
Where: The Spatters
When: Backdated to not long after Bruce's arrival. Like a month ago. Go me.
Notes: MJ and I are serious RPers
Warnings: Violence, ruining your childhood, others will be added if they come up

( And I looked and frowned and the monster was me )

diogenesis

Who: Mycroft Holmes
What: Learning the Truth.
Where: Queensgate
When: Sukkardi, Rundaren 14th
Notes: Closed post. Takes place before this.
Warnings: A little existential mind-melting.

( and finally it seemed that the spell was broken. )

wontturntofoam

Who: Shrieky, Ki, and Alan
What: ~Karaoke Riot Baby!~
Where: A modestly popular, painfully ironic Karaoke Bar in Howl Barrow
When: Approaching midnight on Givdi
Notes: n/a
Warnings: Mind Control, Violence, Inevitable Shrieking

( This is how we do Karaoke when we hate all of humanity )

gotbottle

Who: Raylan Givens and Rachel Conway
What: Dinner and catching up. And, likely, A Talk.
Where: In the general vicinity of Rachel's workplace in Syriac Well.
When: forward-dated to Veerdi.
Notes: passing mentions of sexual activity.
Warnings:see above.

Rachel packs it in for the weekend at a quarter to six, putting away files and notes, clearing her desk so it's neat for Newdi morning. It's something she's always done, as far back as college; a clean desk when she starts the next day's work is like a fresh start, it's soothing somehow.

Knocking off a little early also gives her time to duck into the restroom and make sure she's still presentable before heading for the front of the building. She's always thought it rude to keep someone waiting, or to make them have to ask somebody to go find you, and that's part of the reason she intends to meet Raylan out front.

The other part being she's still pretty new here, and even the best workplaces are full of gossip. She's not ready or willing to have her personal life or friendships examined quite so closely here, not yet. The front steps aren't far, but it's far enough to ward off most of the well-meaning-if-nosy questions and speculation.

So she's a few minutes ahead of six o'clock when she steps out the front door, ready to head down the steps to the sidewalk.

deservesadaisy

Who: Ivan and you!
What: Errands, miscellania
Where: Mostly Mafaton, though possibly also the environs
When: Shundi.
Notes: Come harass a vampire in his natural habitat. Available for tags in both the evening and night; anywhere he would naturally be is probably game, but hit me up if you have a question.
Warnings: tba if necessary

Though Ilde doesn't live with him, she's at his flat often enough that Ivan finds himself needing to do errands that it had been years since he needed to remember (grocery shopping, for example). Luckily, enough of the Mafaton population was nocturnal that he didn't need to brave the glare of midday to do so. It's early evening, and he's ventured out to take care of a few odds and ends; he may also pay a visit or two, as he's in a decent mood and feeling what passes for sociable, with him.

He'll probably feed. But, as always, on that matter he continues to be discreet.

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an entire branch of argos [open]

[ closed ] I think something dark's living down in my heart.

[open] If thou wouldst drink of my life

i took the bullet for all the wrong reasons

if travel is searching and home has been found

without order nothing exists, without chaos nothing evolves

Open!

wonder if he'll ever know

the only line that is true is the line you're from

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in the woods dark and deep I offer you eternal sleep

It's not my fault if I live and breathe; Eat, drink, sleep and put on clothes.

come on be alive again

sometimes i get nervous when i see an open door

I'd forever talk to you but soon my words they would turn into a meaningless ring

Then I ran across a monster who was sleeping by a tree.

ALL THE WALLS OF DREAMING, THEY WERE TORN WIDE OPEN

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But these stories don't mean anything / when you've got no one to tell them to

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