endsthegame: (worried arriving)
[personal profile] endsthegame
A rip opened in the middle of the dorms lobby-- but it was unlike any void the island had seen before. It didn't precisely shine, but white light did filter out, almost tentatively, like the rays of the morning sun. It did not pull or pluck at anything, and when it vanished, it would leave the dorms exactly as it had found them.

It was not a rift that would take; it was a rift that would give.

Give back the people it had taken, that is.

[[ for those who were formerly strewn across the multiverse, after they touch their part! come home, folks ]]
[identity profile] provostsdog.livejournal.com
Pounce had been rather insistent that Beka'd go retrieve her baton from the weapons locker that morning and Beka knew not to argue when it came to these things. Not that he'd tell her what was happening, but then she'd not have to wait for much longer. When she'd reached the third floor, there were loud noises coming from the common room. It seemed someone was throwing the plates in the kitchen around and she'd taken one step towards it when Pounce warned her not to.

The next instant, sommat small and grin and evil looking darted out of the common room. Its intentions seemed obvious, it bared its teeth and made a launch for Beka. She'd been able to draw a knife just in time as the creature jumped up at her. It had fangs and claws and she blocked its attack with her arm, taking the scratches while she brought the knife up and slid its throat.

"Mithros, what was that?" she stared at the thing lying on the ground and the noises in the common room sounded worse now. She was no fool and Beka backed up. Jonas was on this floor. His door only a few steps behind her and she moved towards it, keeping her eyes on the common room while she knocked on his door.

[She's bugging Jonas, but definitely open for anyone who wants to team up.]
[identity profile] bigdamndestiny.livejournal.com
Between the dorms and preserve, a moderately sized--if only because dragging over more wood than was already stockpiled nearby was far too much work--fire was lit as the sun set and the longest night of the year began. In the main lobby and by the fire there were much larger supplies of spiced cider and ale.

...look, people in ye olde times really liked to get drunk and light things on fire. It was a time honored tradition.

[[Open for all!]]
[personal profile] bitchprince
Just a few hours ago, the flamingoes had given up on their sudden, magical performance, and retreated to their usual perches for the night. The lights had gone out across Fandom Town, and so no one was awake to witness the start of the gentle tinsel snow. Glittering paper floated down, spreading across the fresh snow, coating it in shimmering colours. It was pretty, it was unnoticed, it was...

The fire alarm cut through the air without warning. The fragile peace of Sunday night shattered into tiny little shards, like a lunatic firing bullets into Christmas decorations with utter abandon. The tinsel? Kept falling. The alarm? Would not stop blaring. The firemen? Were out on the town. It was time for the annual 'strange weather' drill, and no man, woman, or angry pseudopod was going to dissuade them from ushering all the students away from the school.

As they rushed into the school, the tinsel kept falling. Enjoy, kids. We hope you stole a coat upon leaving, or you're going to be plenty cold.

[[ HAVE AT THE FIRE DRILL! Go here for our previous fire drill. Y'all know the drill! ... bad pun. bad. ]]
[identity profile] see-beyond.livejournal.com
Jonas hadn't seen snow since leaving the Community. Even then, he'd been more concerned about the damaging effects the extreme weather was having on himself and Gabe rather than just enjoying it. Today, though, he had no such concerns. He'd managed to get through a semester of school on his own, without completely breaking down, and it was almost like the snow was his reward.

He was standing there, a few steps away from the dorms, hands stuck in his pockets and face upturned, letting the light flakes hit his face and stick to his jacket. With the vague memories he still had, he remembered snow making everything sound so quiet and still. He remembered it being wet and making your cheeks pink.

Despite nearly losing his life and nearly watching Gabe die to due extremely cold conditions, Jonas found that he still liked snow. And, with no consideration to the cold, thought just walking around outside the dorms and enjoying it was a nice way to pass the morning.

[the weather channel says there's snow so there's snow! open post, of course!]
furnaceface: (SOW - Shirtless PB Thor Knai)
[personal profile] furnaceface
Jonothon Evan Starsmore, the stunningly handsome and ridiculously wealthy rock-star descendant of the late Jack Starsmore, heir of the vast Starsmore Fortune, esteemed leader of the mighty and powerful Clan Akkaba, and wielder of Mysterious Powers of Which He Never Spoke, lifted his guitar and took a pleased look around at his surroundings. The stage was set. The band was ready (even if they were all nameless, faceless individuals. The focus wasn't on them, here.)

No, no, the focus was on Jonothon, his hair perfect, his face perfect, his chest? Dare I say it? Perfect, as if sculpted by the hand of God himself. It would have been a shame to put a shirt on it, in spite of the time of year. And anyhow, this particular corner of the island was unseasonably warm. It would be a shame to not take advantage of the sunny sky, the green of the grass and the leaves in the trees, the warmth the day had to offer... and other types of heat, at that. Perfect chests were for showing off, and Jonothon would like to encourage all of his audience to partake in that very same mindset.

But all of that hardly mattered. What really mattered, here, was that there was to be a concert today. And, perhaps afterwards, Jonothon would let his most avid admirers backstage for a personal tour.

[Open! So very, very open.]
[identity profile] provostsdog.livejournal.com
There was the slightest of chances Beka's been spoiling the pigeons this week. They'd had to get through without the extra feed for two weeks and Beka swore Shimmer looked more hungry than usual. She crumbled some of the bread from her bag and scattered it in front of her, watching the gathered pigeons launch for it in a flurry of wings and feathers.

"You almost ate the entire bag, you loobies," she chided them. She wiped off the crumbs on her jeans afore she reached out to scratch the sleeping Pounce behind his ear. She had her diary laid open in her lap. She'd at least caught up with everything now, but her reports weren't. Writing about turning into a Terrier was easy, she was certain her Lord would see the humor of it. Twas the part about George Cooper that she couldn't find the words for.

[Open as roofs are.]
icecoldfrost: (girls' night out)
[personal profile] icecoldfrost
Emma had handwavily sent out an email to her 'dates' on Thursday, detailing her nefarious plans. She'd taken over the sixth floor, setting-up spots for hair and make-up, as well as making sure there were lots of snacks to munch on while they got ready. If other people wandered in wanting help, or just to hang out before the dance, that was fine with her too, but Emma was anticipating needing to fuss over Karla and Beka, and probably Triela and Tara.

This was totally her good deed for the month, possibly for the year. After all, someone had to set a good example.

And she was pretty sure she could get Morton and Rosto to pay for pictures of this. Details. They still had a dance to get ready for.


[OOC: Post is open to all the girls in the dorms, although the dates already know who they are. Up early for timezone/SP awesome. ETA: No, no boys allowed. If you try to peek in the door, Emma will brain-zap your butt back downstairs, and you will hiccup uncontrollably for the rest of the night.]
[identity profile] provostsdog.livejournal.com
Mayhap she should have asked Jonothon for help. It'd have been faster, of that she was certain. She'd seen one of the instructors of the gym insert the shiny disc in a black box and then there'd been images on the television. So far, she'd managed to turn on the television. And then she was stuck.

"You could help," she accused Pounce.

You need to learn to find your own way, Pounce told her, staying on his spot on the coffee table to observe her.

Sarden cat. "I'd not have taught this is of great importance," she told Pounce and randomly started pushing buttons on the black boxes underneath the television.

It's th-

She'd hit a button and the stereo installation lit up, music suddenly blaring through the common room. Pounce yowled and Beka hit the button again. Silence returned instantly, but Beka thought she'd might be deaf for the rest of the day.

[Open, of course. Pounce's responses not for radio, please. Since no one but Beka can understand him.]
bitten_notshy: ([neu] b+w casual)
[personal profile] bitten_notshy
The roof wasn't really decorated for the pre-parents weekend party, but it wasn't the kind of party you needed to decorate for. There were chips and other snacks; soft drinks, with more interesting selections in a discreet cooler to the side; and a stereo playing music Jack didn't much care for, even though he knew it was popular.

He took a final look over everything, then leaned against the ledge to wait for people who had followed the post-its.

[OOC: With thanks to co-organizer [livejournal.com profile] fratboybitch and [livejournal.com profile] guardianborn, who reminded me to post this. Minimal OCD on its way is up; I say we party!]
[identity profile] provostsdog.livejournal.com
Twas a silly thing to be nervous about cooking. She didn't do it much at home either, there was little time and she was out doing Dog work when supper came. She'd time now. Plenty of it and it seemed useful to find out what those buttons in the kitchenette meant. Which was the goal of this visit to the common room with Jono. To figure out the cooking thing.

Just don't cook my fish, Pounce warned in what would be cat talk to anyone else but Beka. He took the safer route and jumped on the couch for a nap.

She ignored him and glanced at Jono. "You don't happen to know how to make apple fritters?" she asked.

[Jono modded with permission. And the post is open as common rooms are. Feel free to come mock the technology challenge girl.]
[identity profile] see-beyond.livejournal.com
In the Community, going out after certain hours hadn't been permitted save for the those with Assignments that required it. Even being three years removed from that place, it still took Jonas a few weeks to realize that he could go out and stay out without the fear of punishment.

There were so many things he knew he could be doing or could be learning but, tonight, he found himself just staring up at the darkening sky. It was overcast but the clouds still captivated him in ways that might seem mundane to almost everyone else. It was amazing to him how they moved, changed shape and combined with each other so effortlessly.

Jonas hoped he might see stars later, when the sky grew dark, but watching the clouds was all right with him for the moment. The book he'd brought lay unopened next to him, ready if the clouds grew boring. Jonas didn't see that happening though.

[the deck's open!]
[identity profile] guardianborn.livejournal.com
Rose's ass was thoroughly kicked by her second training session in the afternoon.  So much so that she was pretty sure if she sat down on her bed, she'd end up asleep right up until tomorrow morning.  Which would be pathetic. 

The rain seemed to have stopped though so she wandered up to the roof and sat on the wall.  It was totally dorky, but she even had a book with her to study. Something about that new determination plus actually having talked Dimitri into fight training had made her realise there were other parts of being a guardian she hadn't been paying attention to.  So she was fixing it...even if this book was a little too focused on the threat of guns to the protectees. 

The longer she was up there, the less the book was actually getting read.

[Home from work early wheeee]

[identity profile] provostsdog.livejournal.com
After a week at Fandom, Beka missed the Lower City still. She missed the sounds and the movements, she missed her jobs and she missed having breakfast every morning with her friends. Twas a good way to start the day and she imagined by now they'd all be gathered in the Dancing Dove, sharing tales of their day. So when she went to buy breakfast that morning, she'd bought more than she'd ever eat on her own. Fandom might be different, but people still had to eat and mayhap it could be one habit she'd not have to give up here.

She emptied the bag with pastries on the table, gathered some of the drinks of the cooling cupboard in the kitchen and fed Pounce. She'd selected a pastry with apples from the pile and turned on the television.

What's this? Pounce sounded offended and Beka glanced over her shoulder. Her cat was backing away from the plate of food she'd given him.

"Catfood," she said. "They make it specially for cats."

To poison them? Pounce demanded, turning his nose up at the food.

"No!" The package had said every cat would love it. The sarden thing had cost enough for it too.

I'm not eating that, Pounce announced.

Beka sighed and headed back in the kitchen. She'd seen some meat in there. "Most cats just eat milk and bread," she threatened Pounce. The cat didn't respond, he was zapping between channels on television.

[Open, of course. Beka talking to her cat is fine for radio, the cat talking back not so much.]
[identity profile] flashesforinfo.livejournal.com
Somehow, senior year, Angela had ended up with fewer classes than ever. She would never complain about that one. Ever. But it left her with tonnes of free time. Which she probably could've been filling with prepping her portfolio for art school, but instead was... not.

What? It was the first week of semester. It was allowed.

She'd had her lie in, actually got dressed, and was finally sorting out some lunch for herself (making sandwiches, because she really just couldn't mess that up), and watching (and, okay, humming along to) the weird music videos on whichever channel she'd flipped to. Just how much drugs were the people who came up with these things on?

[[and open, like a common room is!]]

Fandom High RPG



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Fandom High is a not-for-profit text-based game/group writing exercise, featuring fictional characters and settings from a variety of creators, used without permission but for entertainment purposes only.

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