Stark Industries, Thursday

[imafuturist]

Consider Tony duly chastised for judging the weird gifts right before all of this happened. He'd take those back, thank you very much.

He'd even take back the candy rain that had messed up his generators! Anything to get back his (well, mostly intact) lab so he could just study whatever this was to put an end to it. And to get JARVIS back too.

He ran his hand over what looked like a repulsor burn on one of the walls as he investigated what was left of the place.

[open... business-ish?]

The Streets of Town, Thursday Morning

[cracked_n_corrupt]

Everything was grey these days. Grey, or that muddy red-brown color that humans left behind when their bodies were damaged, but in the fog, the always, always fog, even that seemed grey, or black. Dirty. Earth was dirty. Dirtier now than it had been, and smaller, just one island apart from the rest, but this was the Earth that was most prevalent in Peridot's mind. And she still had her mind, as sharp as ever. Just... damaged, a little.

That much was plain to see just at a glance if you could catch sight of her, skittering across cobbles and ducking behind things, a bag strapped to her back that she was slowly filling with anything that looked like it could be of any use to the humans in the village. She might even be easy to spot in the gloom. After all, a greyer take on green was still practically lush in comparison to most other colors, and there weren't many things left on the island that were more verdant than Peridot.

She ducked behind a pile of rubble that hid away a stockpile of medical supplies that she'd dug out from one of the buildings in town earlier in the day, as well as some yellowed but unused notebooks and a couple of unopened boxes of pencils. All things considered, it was hard to say which prize she was more proud of. She seemed to be tucking them all into her bag with equal amounts of reverence, after all.

Around here, memory was as valuable as even the most powerful medication.

[OOC: Open streets, if you dare to brave them!]

Outside Atlas Gym, Thursday Morning

[so_hawkward]

Clint had planned on going to work today, thinking that the inside of the gym might be a safe place to watch the strange fog and keep an eye out for whatever the hell was happening to the island this time around. But when he got to the gym, the inside looked abandoned and desolate, and his key wouldn't even open the door.

"This is why we can't have anything nice," he muttered, looking around. He could have turned around and gone back home, but that would have been the smart choice--staying in town to investigate the fog was a much more Clint-ish idea.

[Open!]

Rooftop of Our Lady of Fandom, Thursday Morning

[rebelscreams.livejournal.com]

It had been a long time since Dante had seen the sun come up. So in the youngest hours of the morning, he curled out of his pew-bed and slipped outside, leaping up to the rooftop of the church.

He quickly found himself disappointed. The fog had risen so far that no light passed through, like it had done for years. He could see the planes meshing now, superimposed, the tenuous link between one and the other fortifying.

There were no more blinks. No more glimpses into another world. The church he'd gone to sleep in had been dusty but intact, at least for the short spell before he closed his eyes. Now, the space beside him had the old hole in it again, and half the pews were strewn around the hall inside like there had been a fight (multiple fights) there.

He sighed. Well. So much for that respite.

"G'morning, Cassandra," he said to the stalking, twitching form below, the one that dragged a sword behind her. "Just like clockwork again."

He dangled his feet over the edge of the roof and turned his eyes towards the grim edges of the shanty town in the park. "Let's hope Kathy made it back home okay."

[[ bde day 2! the island's now cut off from the island, the fog is high, and the buildings of Fandom will have twisted into their AU selves. also, monsters. also, open. ]]

Outside of JGoB, Thursday

[godilovedthis.livejournal.com]

Well, that had happened fast. Had it always been that fast, or was the process speeding up? Kathy couldn't remember. But this morning she'd gotten up and was greeted by the familiar fog and scent of mildew and rusting metal. Ahh, all the comforts of home. Cursing, she'd left her squat in Barry's old lab, hoping to find something to scrounge before all the food went, but, no, she'd been too late. She should have stocked up yesterday, when the Fandom was still bright and shiny again, but she'd allowed herself to get distracted and now she was left hungry again.

Peering through JGoB's filthy windows, Kathy tried to discern whether she could see anything worth scavenging in there--or worse, something lurking there that was also hoping to find a breakfast. Anything in the display cases was likely inedible, spoiled and moldy, with the stuff that was just stale having long-since been devoured, but maybe there were a few bags of flour still remaining somewhere? She'd picked weevils out before (and other times hadn't bothered) and had gotten decent at making a grilled flatbread with flour, water, and a pinch of her heavily-hoarded salt...

Nothing seemed to be moving inside the building, so Kathy decided it was worth taking a quick look around, just in case. Sometimes people stashed things in random spots and she felt no guilt at taking whatever it was she found. The door was hanging off its hinges, the wood swollen and rotted, and with a bit of shoving, she could have it open enough to slip inside.

Just another morning in post-apocalyptic Fandom.

[Open for regulars, AU'd folks, or even a hollow or two!]

Near the post office, Thursday

[outofthein.livejournal.com]

Tip stood right where she had for the last . . . while. Maybe a foot or two closer to the post office. It was hard to tell, the shifting fog made distances a little iffy.

Not that Tip noticed or cared what the fog did. Or where she was going. Or how almost glacially slowly she was going there.

To anyone passing by, Tip looked just like an enormous, ruined statue. It was best not to stop and look closely at her, though. If you did she might notice you. And if she noticed you --

She moved faster attacking than she did just walking. Just fast enough to catch you with an enormous, crushing foot. Even if her foot only caught the trailing edge of your clothing, that was alright. It wasn't as though you'd be able to push her off of it. She had another foot. And a hand. She didn't care how the crushing happened, just so long as it happened at all.

[open]

Luke's, Thursday Afternoon

[geniuswithasmartphone]

Hardison hadn't wanted to leave Eliot's today. Between his face still hurting and the massive changes that happened to the house (and the world outside of it), he'd given serious thought to grabbing his partners and having a grand tour of the safe room that Eliot was building and just not coming out until whatever this was was over. That thought was at the forefront of his mind as he made his way back to Luke's and the apartment above, in fact. He and Parker had a lot of stuff over at Eliot's already, but a packing up a few more clothes and his work laptops and The Book seemed like it could be a really smart idea, too. And also sending the staff home, or making sure they had a safe place to bunk, and maybe grabbing more Hot Pockets so he'd have a snack for when he jury-rigged something to get the power back on...

The roof of Luke's looked weird. Really weird. And after yesterday, Hardison wasn't taking any chances. So he paused, waiting for the fog to clear to give him a better view of whatever was up there...

Whatever he'd been expecting, it wasn't a huge sphinx to be lounging on the roof like it owned the place. And most definitely not a sphinx playing with what he was firmly telling himself were animal skulls, even as his brain tried to point out the shape of the jaws and craniums of the ones he could see. The creature yawned--or maybe just decided to show off its impressively-sized maw--and Hardison dashed for the door of the diner, flinging himself inside.

It was rundown, it was filthy, and it looked pretty barren. But it currently wasn't filled with a man-eating mythological monster and that was good enough for him.

Luke's was...open?

[AU!Kenzi modded with permission. No OCD]

Near the park, Thursday evening

[allie-in-the-au.livejournal.com]

Another night of dark and fog.

Another night of keeping watch near the camp to make sure nothing too dangerous came near.

Her recent memories weren't too bad, but anything that happened more then a month or so in the past was hazy at best.

Allie remembered enough, impressions mostly - a laugh, the wind in her face as she drove down a highway - It was enough to remind her things hadn't always been so bleak.

And that she hadn't always been so hungry.

But that seemed like a lifetime ago.

[She's hungry. But harmless if you're a human or friendly sort]

The village in the park, Thursday evening

[kintsukorosu]

Hannibal had come back here in the early hours of the morning, more to reassure those here that he was still safe and to stay involved in what was going on than out of any real desire to socialize.

The oddities of the day before seemed to have settled back into the usual dullness of day-to-day life, and Hannibal was keeping an eye out for any new people, but other than that, it was business as usual.

Maybe he could get a bit more volume out of their water filtration system today. It was a hobby.


[Open post! Come to the village!]

The Street Between the Rocky Bits and the Park, Thursday Evening

[alreadyhollow]

The going was slow when you were a fifteen-foot monstrosity made of fire and molten stone. Or, rather, it felt that way. Every movement was a slow, deliberate one, but the extra height made up for it. One could clear a lot of road in a single step, when one was as tall as some of the buildings in town, after all.

So, what was the fifteen-foot monstrosity doing wandering the streets of town? If anybody asked Jonothon - and let's be real, most sane people probably wouldn't bother to try to strike up a conversation with him in the first place, and the island didn't typically have many of those left - he'd say he was doing patrols. Keeping an open psionic eye to be certain the hollows weren't wandering too close to the park. If you pressed him for a better answer, he might even give in and admit that curiosity had won out, that yesterday's flickers of sunshine and the wealth of new minds around the island today had him straying from the rocky bits mostly because... well... he needed to know.

But, of course, the going was slow. Not that he was in any particular hurry. It wasn't like the people here were going to be leaving any time soon, after all.

[OOC: Lumbering Giant meandering down Loon Drive, as one does. Open!]

Graveyard, Late Thursday

[deathof-you.livejournal.com]

Death belonged to the graveyard now, and the graveyard belonged to her.

She reshaped it to her whims -- turning the grass red on a whim before replacing it with thistles an hour later. Growing tall, fragrant trees that attracted strange birds, then crushing those same birds midsong with greedy hands. Sometimes, she raised the corpses and made them dance until their bones fell apart, or (if she was lucky) drew in somebody even more fun to play with.

On most days, this was the only life she could imagine.

On her best days, she knew this hadn't always been her. That before the island's plague began to twist her, she'd been much more than this. There'd been duty and siblings and friends and a sense that things made sense.

Today wasn't one of her best days. Today was a day for singing a song no one on earth had heard for centuries, and thinking wistfully of the dirty-copper flavor and sticky slickness of blood.

[OOC: Mostly establishy because late,but open if anyone wants SP.]