The Gig, Sunday

[kestrelswolf.livejournal.com]

There were no unexpected fruit today.

In fact, there were no unexpected anything. The morning, as she and Blind Seer fed and groomed the horses, just consisted of the usual updating them on any island gossip (not the who's dating who that concerned some teenagers, but the kind of gossip that interested horses, like the fact that she'd received a message on her phone from Arthur the other day). The rest of their shift was spent outside, lazing about in the pasture.

The Perk, Sunday Late Morning

[intraspective]

Ino was bored.

Bored bored bored! Which was why, of course, she wound up at the Perk and talked them into giving her whipped cream with a little bit of hot chocolate. They barely even put up a fight this time about it! Ino was impressed.

… She thought she might've just worn them down, really, if she was being honest.

So now Ino was going to take her not-really-a-drink and flop down in a chair over by the windows so she could peer outside at people. And settle down to see what she could 'sculpt' with her whipped cream, a spoon, and a stir stick.

Curing boredom, clearly, meant she had to be inventive. And no, Ino did not particularly care that she was closer to seventeen than seven.

She was totally allowed to play with her food.

[Open, of course!]

The Beach, Sunday Morning

[on-her-korhal.livejournal.com]

It had been a long few weeks, wrought with some uncomfortable conflict between human impulses thought long-gone and her own, more important mission. Enough, she had thought: it was time to take a quick breather from Fandom life and reacquaint herself with... the bigger picture.

She was the Swarm. Everything would be hers, or dead. That was one side of the matter.

The other...

She stood, on that abandoned patch of sand, and for once let her external appearance flicker. It took a lot of effort to keep up the full extent of the disguise, considering that it wasn't all biological-- the shade of her skin shifted, her eyes burned a violent amber again.

She paid it no heed. She reached out, out beyond the buzzing of mental voices on this planet, through the bleakness of space towards the Overlord that hung silently on the other side of the moon. Through it, she heard the cacaphony of voices of the Swarm, all those minds responding obediently to her every thought.

She pushed past it, into the confines of Koprulu space, and then beyond that, and there it was: voices. Voices whispering in the shadows, voices, buzzing at her mind as they had from the moment she had first picked up their silent chatter during her final victory, when she stood alone on Char.

"Xel'Naga," she spoke. Her mind snapped back to herself. Her irises shaded green again, her epidermis rosy pink.

She pursed her lips, and stood on the beach alone.

[[ kerrigan being on the beach is fb, her momentary change isn't. open for anyone to come along afterwards! ]]

Wellspring Arms & Meditation Center

[nojesusfreak.livejournal.com]

Today Biff had brought his laptop to work with him. He'd discovered webpages full of humorless religious fundamentalists and was happily starting flame wars with all of them by telling them that John had been gay.

...everyone needs hobbies.

The shop was open, and Biff would be happy to take time away from correcting people's grammar to be of absolutely no help to anyone who wandered in.

[OOC: The OCD is hiding.]

Caritas | Sunday

[redandblueblur.livejournal.com]

It had been a long day of...really important stuff, whatever. And so Clark had come into work with the best intentions of being super awesome with Tino at his side.

But somehow Clark had fallen fast asleep on a trip to check the peanut supply in the back room, his head resting against the bar there. Blame the sports on TV. He certainly would if anyone caught him.

Caritas was open!