The Park, Saturday evening

[regretiz4suckas.livejournal.com]

Kenzi was in the park, practicing her new trick to impress the squirrels and other wildlife. Also, to see if she could do anything more than make pretty fuzzy pictures.

Singing "These Boots Are Made For Walking," got her some awesome bubbles of images, but did not, in fact, fix her boots. Le sigh.

[expecting one, but open!]

Caritas- Sunday evening

[throughaphase]

When Kitty had planned this party she'd just figured that it'd be a good way for people to mingle, especially since there were new people on the island now. She hadn't thought that there'd be powers weirdness going on, though really, there were probably a few people who could use a drink and/or assurances this would be back to normal in the morning.

At least, it'd better be normal in the morning. Did you hear that, Fandom?

The place had been all prettied up, the back room had been blocked off for party purposes, and if you got a drink there was a good chance that you had a macramed drink cozy along with it because if you gained a new skill you might as well use it or whatever, right?

[Open party!]

Demon Marcus, Sunday

[myownface]

Sparkle had kind of slept all of yesterday. It was difficult, apparently, to discover the awesome potential you'd inherited from some other poor schmuck when you'd spent the whole damn day in bed, nursing a hangover. And the few times he had woken up, it was in some pretty funky positions. He'd kind of convinced himself he was dreaming, because while he was pretty limber for a teenage boy who didn't actually work out or do stretches or anything, there was no way he could get his body into some of those contortions and actually be comfortable with it.

Today, he was kicking himself for staying in bed yesterday. Hangover gone, he'd pretty much gotten out of bed via a handspring, and after some choice words about that, had decided to put the limitations of his new agility to the test. His chosen method of dragging his ass to work and swearing at all the stairs on the island had changed pretty quickly this morning into his chosen method of freaking parkour, thank you, pausing every now and again to crouch on a ledge in a weird squat and look down over Fandom before springing out over the streets like there wasn't a chance of a splattery death below.

Sparkle's trip to work today had been awesome. But now that he was here, he was grumbling again. Agile as he was today, there really wasn't a hell of a lot he could do when in a clothing store surrounded by racks and displays and fashion dummies. Stupid Sundays. Stupid hangovers. Sparkle was going to spend most of his last day with kickass powers perched on the edge of the counter in another one of those weird little squats, wondering if anyone would notice if he put up a 'back in ten minutes' sign every so often and just ran around the rooftops again.

Demon Marcus was open!

[OOC: Work and other threads ate my brain yesterday so this boy didn't get out, woe. Shame on me. Open!]

Luke's, Sunday

[lovemykilt]

Priestly had banished himself from the kitchen for the weekend (you did not want to see what he'd managed to do to scrambled eggs, yesterday), so instead was spending his time at the diner today cleaning and rearranging the dining room.

The fact that he could do this from the counter and he glowed blue when he did was almost making up for the fact that he could also burn water right now.

Almost.

Today's specials
Three cheese macaroni
Curly fries
Root beer floats

Luke's was open.

The Park, Sunday Afternoon

[furnaceface]

There was nothing quite like a couple of days of reinforced muteness to get Jono feeling a bit introspective. The new artistic talents were fine and well, but he'd take the ability to communicate over being handy with an aerosol can any day of the week.

How that led to him sitting at a park bench with his flames in full view (all the better for getting across that he obviously wasn't going to be the most talkative person on the island) and a bag of bread in hand was anybody's best guess. Obviously he hadn't bought it for himself, no. There was just something... therapeutic about feeding the ducks around here. And if after a while that happened to turn into some quiet sketching on the little notepad he sometimes carried around with writing music in mind? The ducks were interesting artistic subjects, he supposed. And the person who was feeding them in the sketch...

Well, she was nobody that most people around here would recognize these days, anyway.

[OOC: All kinds of open, though Jono's obviously not going to be big on conversation today.]