Trooper Station; Monday [07/22].

[died8yearsago]

Thankfully, Rosa's weekend had improved her mood significantly, even if she was a little pissed at herself for not thinking of it sooner, though she felt that the concept of just jumping into a portal to a different dimension was a fairly new one in her entire world view should give her at least a little leeway in not thinking of it right away. And she was fairly reluctant to even come back, figuring she'd be stumbling right back into some other new fresh hell to deal with.

Although, honestly? So far? This one might not be so bad.

"Ralph was just here a second ago, right?"

The troopers seemed to have been slipping in an out of dimensions nonstop all morning. There seemed to be hot spots around the station that seemed particularly active: over by the holding cell (which could make things difficult if they actually needed to put anyone in there), over by the coffee maker, and at least three of the file cabinets. Which suited Rosa just fine. It was quieter, she didn't have to look at as many of their stupid faces (well, helmets) as much, she could work in relative quiet...

There was, however, one major downside.

"Bee Lady, line one."

Rosa sneered down at the blinking light on her phone. "No," she said. "Make Larry take it."

"Larry's not here right now."

And neither was Ralph, or most of the other ones at that particular moment, though, of course, as soon as she was done with the call, they'd probably all be back. "Then you take it."

"I don't have that qualification, Detective."

"No one should be qualified to deal with Bee Lady," Rosa murmured, bracing herself and reluctantly taking the call, wishing that about halfway through it, one of those rifts would find itself in her chair. Knowing her luck, though, it'd probably just put her wherever Ralph had gone.

....oh, but, hey, Larry was back! Falling from the ceiling and landing right on her desk.

And it was only Monday.

[[ open! ]]

Blackstone Foundry and Forge (???) ; Monday [07/22].

[special_rabbit]

Well. Amaya hadn't woken up in her bed that morning, but at least it was a bed. Still, it was a little unsettling, going to sleep in one room and waking up in a completely different one, but if there wasn't any weird time things going on, it would stand to reason that this was Monday, and the island was onto a whole new thing, and it was back to going and changing her stuff around again. She'd reasoned with herself as she got up and scoped out what was different that she should be happy to take different over all those monsters, but she was having a hard time being very convincing.

So...her apartment was just a bedroom, apparently, because when she went to through the door expecting a kitchen so she could at least make some coffee, it opened up right into a shop. And not even her shop. But, still a shop, with a forge and an anvil and a cute little table, but...where were the weapons? Where was the Crumbler?

WHERE WAS THE COFFEE?

"Ugh," said Amaya, eloquently, just sort of frowning at the very mininimalized and boring and weaponless shop, pouting to herself because in that moment, she knew only the squirrels would see it and hopefully they knew she'd kick them if they decided to say anything about it in their notes.

And then her attention shifted to a big pile of interesting looking rocks that were gathered around the counter of the shop, considered the hammer there as well, and she shrugged. She might not have coffee or weaponry on hand right now, but there was at least some geodes that looked like they could be cracked open. Might be some interesting stuff inside. Guess she wouldn't know until she tried, right?

Maybe one of them would have coffee.

...zards, she hoped coffee still existed in whatever world they found themselves in this time.

The Forge is open!

[[ i have been playing way, way too much Stardew Valley. Please send help. Or at least Rare Seeds ]]

Fandom Post Office, July 23 (Tuesday)

[filleauloup]

Éponine had stepped out of her front door this morning and immediately fallen into what looked like home, which was to say Paris nearly 200 years ago, except that everybody seemed to be singing. Then she'd ducked into an alley, sufficiently perplexed by all this, and found herself here, in the employee break room.

The post office seemed normal enough, except that the computers had been replaced by pretty, if less sophisticated, manual cash registers and scales and rubber stamps, and there was an odd pervasive smell around the place. A bit of poking around revealed a tank of whale oil set into a socket in the wall that appeared to be powering the entire establishment, and a spare tank kept nearby.

Well, she'd just have to deal with the smell, she supposed. Unless she fell through another rift and ended up somewhere else. In the meantime, she'd just be poking at the registers and scales, trying to figure out how they worked.

[OOC: No OCD, post office is open! If a little Dishonored style today.]