fandomtownies | Entries tagged with @graveyard

Caduceus wasn't one for making an entrance. It wasn't his style, honestly. However it's not everyday that a seven foot tall man with grey fur and pink hair just flat out walked out of a wall and into a graveyard. While on fire.

Alas the only thing to witness this fiery appearance was a small squirrel. With a hat. And a notebook.

Caduceus was panting heavily as swatted himself several times, putting out the flames on his body and clothing. "Fjord? Jester? Twiggy? Beau?"

No response.

He took a second to look around. Nope. No one was here. And here was not a room with a dragon. This was not where he was a moment ago. Not at all. Looking down at the squirrel he gave the critter a small smile and waved. "Hello, friend. How are you?"

The squirrel who was more used to being shooed away seemed a little bit surprised and chittered something back which Caduceus didn't understand but did his best to interpret.

"Oh, I'm good thanks," he said taking a moment to channel some healing energies into his arm and then leaned down so he could talk a bit more personally with the squirrel. "Listen, I'm not exactly sure what happened here. Can you tell me where I am?"

The squirrel nodded slowly in understanding. Clearly a newbie to this place. The squirrel then began a long stream of chittering and notebook writing which surprisingly Caduceus could read. The chittering? Not so much.

"Oh. You write? That's different. Fandom... Huh. Okay. This wouldn't happen to be part of a happy fun ball would it?"

The squirrel just stared at him. "Yeah. Okay. I don't know either."

Caduceus pulled himself back up to his full height and once again surveyed the area before returning his attention to the squirrel.

"Thank you my little friend. I appreciate the information."

As the squirrel wandered off, Caduceus sat down near a tombstone and brought out some incense which he lit with his trusty tinderbox. As the smell reached his nostrils he began to clear his head and see if he could reach his patron for one simple question. As he felt the familiar warmth of his diety embrace him he simply asked one question. "Why am I here?"

There was a small chuckle in response. "Well... to help people of course."

That seemed to be enough for Caduceus. "All right then. Well. I better get right to it."

He looked around at the graveyard and shrugged a bit. "I guess there could be some improvements made here," he said to himself as he began to quietly tend to the nearest gravestone.

[OOC: First post for Caduceus. Open!]

always_someone

It wasn't that Norman liked the dead more than he liked the living, really. Honestly. He was perfectly okay with the living, so long as they were perfectly okay with him. It was just that... well... this was a lonely holiday for a lot of people. Sure, most holidays were. But he suspected that most of the people back in the dorms had gotten some manner of recognition today, and he didn't know very many of them terribly well anyway.

But the people in the graveyard? Nobody ever thought of them on a day like today. Valentine's Day was for the living, for the romantics of the world who had lives together to look forward to. And the dead? Well. They had already lived it, provided they were lucky, or provided that was the path they even wanted to take in life at all.

So today, Norman had gathered up what little of his savings he had left - the last good kick in the seat of the pants that was probably going to drive him to look for a job in town - and gone to buy a few dozen roses. And now he was going from gravestone to gravestone with his bouquet, leaving something at every one, whether there was still somebody at 'home' in there or not. A few spirit orbs bobbled, glowing, in the corners of his vision, and he smiled and wished them a Happy Valentine's before moving on. Every now and again, he'd stop and chat to a ghost that was brave enough to peek out and investigate, not caring about who was watching who might think he was just a crazy kid talking to thin air.

This was going to take some time, but he didn't seem to mind.

[OOC: Open graveyard!]

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.]

iruinenglish.livejournal.com

Buffy had showed up at the dance, but then decided to skip out early and hang out in the cemetery like the olden days. She doubted there'd be anything worth staking tonight- hopefully- but given how event weekends had gone in her day, better safe than sorry.

So there she was, sitting on top of a gravestone, waiting for something to happen.

[I missed patrol posts! Open!]

cantjossme.livejournal.com

She had been leaping across rooftops, as you do. She was chasing a particular nasty lurk who had been trying to assemble some artifact of Olos Nah and put it on the shrine of Accabwhec causing the demon of Aiel Reklawyks to rise and destroy Haddyn on even of the appearance of the comet of Ekul. Or at least he had until Mel had grabbed one of the artifact pieces and spent most of the week hunting him down. And he wasn’t going to get away this time.

Not until Mel was leaping across a rooftop and flew right into a portal that had opened up right in front of her. She flew through the portal and started cursing like a madwoman. And she kept cursing as she fell about two stories right into the island of fandom.

“Ruttin’ hell. What the rut did I do to-”

…

“Fandom?"

...

"Rocketship!"

She pulled out her twinkie-phone and started texting out. Maybe some old friends might be around.

furnaceface

There was a fire in the graveyard.

Or, rather, there was a man on fire, taking a casual stroll between the gravestones. Every now and again, he'd make a show of leaning forward to inspect a tombstone, and then, in a voice that wasn't at all tangible but could be heard loud and clear all the same, he'd mutter something about this guy owing him money, or that guy being a boring ass. That woman there was a lousy lay. Just in case anybody cared.

He spent a little while just casually lounging among the tombstones, contemplating just what sort of mischief he'd like to cause, now that he was in not only a real, physical body, but a frigging hideous one, and then decided to do as any self-respecting ghost possessing a crazy flaming monster would do.

...

Twenty minutes later, he was back with a sizable bag of alcohol. Don't ask where he got it. He certainly hadn't paid for it. And a few minutes later he was coming to the realization that this whole possession thing would be working out much better for him if the body he'd taken over had, you know, a mouth.

Maybe he could talk somebody into giving him a good lay in exchange for the cheap booze, instead. Some liked it hot, right?

[OOC: ..... Idek. It's late, so I didn't want to crash any posts, but here, have a Betelgeuse-possessed Jono, being a dick in the graveyard. Open as these things get!]

necroslacker

Sam still couldn't remember anything past yesterday. Everything before then was just this giant blank spot and it was starting to freak him out more and more. He hadn't been able to sleep so he'd gotten up early and tried to avoid looking at anything that would project colors. He didn't want to read emotions and freak people out.

What better place to be then the graveyard where no one was alive? Oh, poor Sam. Everything was fine at first but then he started feeling it. The dead. He could feel them all around him, like they were wrapping around his legs and climbing his body. Sam started to cough and shut his eyes tight.

When he opened them, there were spirits in front of his eyes, floating quietly. There eyes were black voids and their clothes were tattered and worn. Some had obvious signs of trauma and some just looked sad or desperate. Sam took a few steps backwards but the spirits followed. He kept moving, swiping at the air and freaking out more and more and more.

The feeling of the dead kept coming at him and he struggled to breathe.

"Go away!" Sam shouted, shutting his head and covering his head with his arms. "Go away. This can't be real. This can't be!"

The spirits swirled around him, almost concerned, while Sam pushed himself back against one of the tombstones and had a panic attack.

[Open town post. Had to, had to!]

Current Mood: scared

justbeingbay

Bay had picked up just enough about the weirdness going on to know she wanted no part of it. She'd mostly stayed in the relative safety of her room, sketching and listening to music.

In other words, it wasn't that different from any other weekend.

But by Sunday afternoon, it was clear the weird wasn't either dangerous or affecting her. Going out seemed relatively safe. It was in a vaguely melancholy mood that she took a shortcut through the graveyard and spotted a pretty, petite dark-haired girl with wicked eye makeup.

"Hey," Didi said cheerily. "What's up?"

"Getting something to eat," Bay said. "I don't know you, do I?"

Didi smiled at her. "You don't, but I know you."

That weirded Bay out more than a little, but it was clear the Goth chick wasn't any kind of a threat. And, as they kept talking, it turned out Didi was right -- and had some helpful advice to boot.

[OOC: Open post with minor OCD to come!]

nottrivial

It had been a really, really long time since Alec had done a proper patrol. He didn't even want to try to figure out how long it had been, because seriously, it was shameful. But what was the point when there was almost guaranteed to be nothing worth going after there? This island wasn't exactly overflowing with demons. At least the murdery kind.

But class today had gotten him thinking about how crappy he'd been at his job lately, and he didn't really feel right not doing anything with that reminder. So. Patrolling. Pointlessly, yes. But he was going to do a few laps around this tiny, tiny graveyard until he felt like a halfway decent Shadowhunter again.

Though he did have his phone out to check for texts, which wasn't really a good-Shadowhunter thing to do. No one was perfect, okay?

[[open!]]

withasword.livejournal.com

Kate was so damn over this week, last week, and by that count, the best part of the past month.

On any normal day, she might go hit something, but she was miraculously all out of untapped violence and kind of achy. Besides, she’d celebrated this particular day exactly like that last year and variety was the (slightly depressing) spice of life.

Her nice and believable Bruce-supplied fake ID had got her as far as a couple of bottles of Boone’s Farm hard lemonade, and there was a perfectly servicable gravestone to prop herself up against while she raised a small toast to Voron.

No, it wasn’t her father’s grave, but this was about as close to having a drink with him as she was going to get these days, without taking a long trip back to Savannah. It would have to do.

[[ open... graveyard, should anyone else be likely to wander there on an evening. ]]

Current Mood: cranky

slackernomore.livejournal.com

Sam actually hadn't been out much since the other day. He'd laid low, taken some time to recharge his batteries and was out again. The graveyard probably wasn't the most normal place to be but Sam was far from normal. In fact, he was actually contemplating raising the whole graveyard just to give the resistance some extra bodies. They'd listen to him, he'd control them and he'd feel like crap about it later.

The graveyard wasn't large but there were enough tombstones that Sam knew he'd have to cut himself and bleed a lot just to get the whole cemetery up and about. It wasn't something he was looking forward to, no.

There was a knife in his pocket though and he was crouched down near one gravestone, trying to stay hidden while he wondered if this was a good idea. Well no, he knew it wasn't a good idea but he wondered if he should do it anyway.

He wasn't great in a fight but he could bring an army of undead so that was...something, right?

[FB for resistance only but open post, shore shore. Sam's not really gonna raise anyone but he's contemplating it, at least!]

Current Mood: apathetic

life_inshadow

Lenore was cursing herself for being such a fucking cliche as she perched on top of a tombstone, drumming her heels impatiently against the marble.

So it was a cliche: The vampire hanging out in a graveyard. But she still hadn't figured out where she was, and graveyards tended to be a good place to get a bead on a the supernatural culture of a town. She'd hang out here, see who else wandered in.

Besides. Everyplace else she went reeked of living people. She normally didn't have a problem staying dry, but it was better she not challenge herself too much.

[OOC: Open graveyard!]

therewaslife

The memories were still gone and he still had no idea who he was. He had no idea where he was and he could barely remember leaving the library and ending up in front of tombstones that held no answers to the secrets that were locked inside his mind. He wanted to cry. He wanted to ask for help but he didn't know who to ask.

He took another step and pain felt like it was splitting his head open. He fell to his knees, holding his head and groaning. Flashes of light lashed through his mind, scraps of visions and memories long gone. There was one though, one that he managed to retain.

There was...a building. And he was there. He was there, standing next to himself. No, his twin. His twin was there and he was crying.

The vision stopped and the pain in his head abated. He was still on the soft, springy ground in the graveyard. He had a twin. He had...someone. But he had no idea what his name was and where he was. He was still alone and that one memory was so painful that he almost wished he hadn't regained it.

[Open, if you're in the area, sure!]

Current Mood: sore

therewaslife

Lurking around in a graveyard on a cloudy, dreary day seemed to fit the typical stereotype Bod had seen in many a movie. The only other thing he needed was a dark trench coat and sunglasses to complete the illusion. Unfortunately, Bod was not up for fitting stereotypes today. His jacket was a light brown and his umbrella was bright pink (he'd thought it better for walking at night).

The ground was wet beneath his boots as he walked along the aisles of tombstones. Occasionally, he'd stopped and said hello to a person or two, guessing them there and going about their day even if he couldn't see them. He'd left flowers on graves that looked untended or lonely and said a few kind words for those that had been gone longest.

Now, he was just standing idly in between two tombstones, looking thoughtful and mellow, at least. Being in a graveyard tended to do that to him. It was sometimes why he didn't want to leave.

[Open place in town so open post if someone's around the graveyard]

Current Mood: content

therewaslife

It seemed that Bod was spending more time in town than in the dorms this week. He didn't exactly know why but it felt right. Despite it being crisp and cool, Bod felt refreshed and comforted when he stepped into the familiar confines of the graveyard. He knew many of the headstones by heart now, could close his eyes and recite the epitaphs quietly before opening them and saying hello to the person buried there.

Bod remembered that it had been a night similar to this when the ghosts had danced the Macabray. He remembered the singing and the dancing, he remembered the Lady on the Grey and the way everything seemed to spark to a different kind of life back then.

Eyes closed, Bod breathed in the cool air and let those memories fill him up. Sometimes, he did think about good things. Sometimes.

[Post is open if anyone's near the graveyard, of course]

Current Mood: hopeful

therewaslife

As Bod's restlessness had grown, he'd noticed he'd taken to spending more time in the graveyard. Whether it was just walks through the aisles of headstones or longer periods spent brooding in one particular area, being in the graveyard made his life seem a little less chaotic.

Despite the cold, Bod was in the graveyard today. In fact, he was actually laying flat on his back on the ground, holding a book up and reading it leisurely. It was the time first time he'd had enough focus to read in a few days and he was taking advantage.

He hadn't thought about how it looked to be laying down in the middle of the graveyard and he really didn't care either. He wasn't dead. He was just taking advantage of the environment to relax. That's all.

[Post is open if you're one to hang out in a graveyard]

Current Mood: content

therewaslife

Bod liked graveyards at night. He'd gathered by now that graveyards at night were, generally speaking, thought of as scary but he didn't find them that way. During the day, he knew the ghosts were busy living their lives but, at night, everything was a little more calm. Children were inside, getting ready for bed while their parents tended to them. Adults, young and old, were settling down, catching up on their day and preparing for another one to follow.

Just because they were dead didn't mean they stopped living and Bod knew that for a fact. He'd experienced that and missed it. After talking with Ino yesterday, he found himself missing it a little more. At least there, he'd had a beginning and an end. It was simple, easier, even if he'd been in harms way the entire time.

As he walked through the graveyard, hands tucked deep into his pockets, he quietly read the Latin off the gravestones and greeted each person by name. He hoped they were well. And then he'd move on, doing the same for each person that was buried there. Maybe it'd been awhile since someone spoke to them.

[Open place in town so open post if anyone's haunting the graveyard]

Current Mood: introspective

pyromanyac.livejournal.com

So they weren't kicking her out of Fandom. Yay for that.

On the other hand, Charlie now was going to have to deal with Kerrigan not only in her class, and her office hours, but also...well, more. She wasn't sure of how much more, but the woman was going to be keeping an eye on her. Or something. She was just oddly happy that she didn't have to leave.

Then why the fuck was she on the graveyard?

Charlie had no idea, actually. Perhaps it was the peacefulness of the place, perhaps she didn't feel as comfortable as the average teenager inside of a room for too long, or perhaps she was just weird. Perhaps. The graveyard itself looked rather...charming, with the snow all around the graves half covered on it. It almost didn't look like a graveyard. Like what it looked like, she had no idea, but certainly not a graveyard. She didn't care. She was just going to stare blankly at the gravestones, seeing without reading.

[[Yes, she's weird, but I sort of love writing it. And yes, this is an open post]]

Current Mood: good

pyromanyac.livejournal.com

Cool, quiet graves said hi to Charlie as she wandered in.

On the back of her head, a song had started to work its way into her brain, earworning her to no end and wanting her to just set something on fire for the sake of just release some steam. Or fire, not steam, she wasn't a steamstarter, after all. "And I'm going crazy", said to the air, and perhaps she was stating the obvious now. When had she started to chew on her fingernail? Before she entered the graveyard, or after she had sat by one of those average creepy angel statues you found in graveyards? Or back at the time on her room, when walls started to close up on her? Did it matter?

"No it doesn't", said as she frowned. "But I can deal with this." No, she actually couldn't. She would break down. "No way." Yes way, and then something horrible would happen and she--

"Shhhh." She closed her eyes and tried not to mutter the song. Much.

She was going to stop fighting with ~~the narrative~~ her inner monologue now.

[Open Graveyard, sure. Beware the crazy girl though.]

Current Mood: Best. Moodtheme. Ever.

pyromanyac.livejournal.com

So she wasn't sleeping there anymore.

That was no reason not to visit the place. She actually liked the quiet and peace of the graveyard. It was a good place to not care about her situation and actually manage some inner peace. Some, at least. And hey, even to accept she might have a chance at having a life, if she ever managed to man up and explore the mainland. She was going to, really, but not just yet.

Leaning on a gravestone, Charlie considered smoking a cigarette for a moment, until she realized she had none on her, of course. It would probably look bad if she smoked on a graveyard anyway, she wasn't sure of who it worked. Was it the same than being in a church? About then she realized that, indeed, she had been leaning over the gravestone of a dead guy, which prompted to jump to the side, perhaps freaking out a bit more than necessary.

"Sorry", mumbled at the gravestone, fully aware of just how stupid she sounded. Good thing she was alone there.

[Open Graveyard for your early Charlie or...graveyard-y needs.]

Current Mood: guilty

pyromanyac.livejournal.com

After the picnic, she had spend the whole day wandering the island. Checking the places, wondering what to do next. It looked safe, even felt safe, in a way. That hadn't stopped the Shop for screwing with her before though.

"They...they have a graveyard." Yeah, she hadn't seen that one coming. Still, it was deserted -without considering the graves- so it was safe. For now. She hadn't had any sort of flash or vision or anything, which was getting her on edge. So she would spend the night there, in the graveyard. She would examine the place she was expected to sleep later. As in, later. She didn't need a bed; she didn't know if she could sleep in a bed anytime soon.

So staring at the stars between two graves it was, at least until she found somewhere...cozier.

Her hopes weren't high.

[Open, sure~ This is what happens when Life Attacks.]

Current Mood: blank

vanillajello

When Kate had woken up today she'd only been sure of one thing: she was not going to the welcome picnic. She'd tried the party thing once this week, and it hadn't been a success. It wouldn't be one today either, not with the way she was feeling.

After talking to Mitchell and Bod yesterday, she'd gone back to the room she shared with Bobby, made sure the door was locked, and promptly passed out on her bed, to be woken up only in the evening by Mitchell's message. There may have been tears after that, but she wasn't really sure anymore. Truth be told, everything about yesterday was a little fuzzy in her memory. Like, she could remember the kinds of things she'd said to Bod (and gotten back), but not really any actual words. It was all muddled by how exhausted she'd been.

It was that exhaustion that had had her sleeping through the night even after that multihour nap. And today, she'd felt awake and clearheaded but empty, and she'd been struck by a whim that had now led her to the graveyard in town, with a small bunch of flowers in hand. If she couldn't find a place designated for leaving flowers and candles in remembrance of people buried elsewhere, she was just going to find a headstone with a vaguely appropriate name, or just a good name, or -- or something. Wasn't like who she was trying to mourn was even buried anywhere.

Snow got into her boots as she waded through it, but she didn't care.

[ooc: Post is open, yes yes.]

therewaslife

Bod hadn't even thought it possible to feel as badly as he did right now. He had nothing to compare it felt like he was drowning and could do nothing to stop it. The fresh air, something that had helped so many times before, seemed to be too thick and heavy. He'd wrapped himself in a coat and was now just standing stock still in front of one of the many tombstones in the graveyard.

He'd read the epitaph over and over until he'd memorized and until that was all that was going through his head...for about five seconds. Eventually, things from yesterday came back and he closed his eyes to try and block them out. He still firmly believed that he'd been right. He'd been treated awfully and he'd been lied to and cheated on but that didn't help how he felt.

He wished badly for Silas. Or his parents or anyone that might just be able to explain things. It was just him and a graveyard full of ghosts he couldn't see. His eyes watered and he wiped them angrily, attributing it to the cold.

Eventually, he started slowly walking through the aisles with no real aim. He just had to move.

[post is open even if the boy is...sort of devastated]

Current Mood: sad

therewaslife

Bod had returned from the mainland early that morning. He hadn't even gone back to his room before detouring to the graveyard. The realization that he hadn't been there in awhile came during a sleepless birthday night. He stared at the top of his tent and, when that had gotten boring, had gone outside and sat in the chilly darkness.

Now, he was here and feeling a little better. The sleepiness would catch up later but for now, he was just calm. Mellow. He couldn't say content because he was far from it but he wasn't awful. The gravestones hadn't changed since his last visit which made grounding himself in the familiarity a little easier.

He closed his eyes and went from tombstone to tombstone, quietly reciting the epitaphs to himself from memory. Most he got right, some he didn't. He promised himself that next time, he'd get them all right.

The bag on his back got dropped into the dewy morning grass and Bod sat on top of it, elbows on his knees. Maybe he could get settled and composed before going back to his room. He hoped so anyway.

[The post is open if you're one to haunt the graveyard]

Current Mood: mellow

daventryprince.livejournal.com

Baron Alexander Gwydion Daventritous Llwedoratio Ignitous Saladar Victor Vincente the Third, Terror of the Night and Scourge of Skimpy Nightdresses, was having an unfortunately unsuccessful hunt so far. He blamed most of it on that blasted prince and his silly daggers, but he figured perhaps he should just take some moments to get back into the proper stride of things.

And what better way for a vampire to regain the proper mindset than stalking egregiously between the graves and headstones of a cemetery? Perhaps he might even get lucky and have a maiden wander through, as they sometimes did, or, at the very least, a party of foolish men hunting him down, to give him a nice fun distraction.

Until then, he'd have plenty of times to practice spreading his cloak out about him in a menacing fashion. He was an expert, of course, but it never hurt to fine-tune one's talents.

[[ open graveyard is open! ]]

therewaslife

When Bod had left for the graveyard earlier that morning, he'd been expecting just to have a few hours of quiet contemplation. He hadn't expected to dodge what looked like flying fish, he hadn't expected to get his arm bitten to the point of bleeding and he certainly hadn't expected to wield a broken tree branch as a weapon.

Despite the obvious danger, he couldn't make himself leave. While the fish seemed to be coming for him, he wasn't going to leave them to destroy a graveyard. He'd seen vandalism and disrepair come to graveyards and he didn't want that to happen here. Bod was wilier than people gave him credit for and he knew this graveyard so it was easy to move from tombstone to tombstone, hiding behind the slabs of granite so he could get the advantage on the fish when they came flying overhead.

Killing them twice, that was new and annoying, but he was doing it by smacking at them with the tree branch, kicking them and stomping on them when needed. Bod really wished for a ghoul gate or an open grave right about now. Unfortunately, it was just him and his tree branch.

[Open, sure, if you're in the area.]

Current Mood: pensive

scruffnfeathers

The kittens all gathered together behind a tombstone, mewing at each other and sniffing the air. Every now and then, one would start forward towards where the church used to be, and Angelbane would grab them by the scruff of the neck and deposit them back behind the stone.

Then all five cats went quiet, fur standing on end.

There was a great CRACK of displaced air, and suddenly the church -- and its leader -- were back.

"-- it," said Castiel. Then he blinked. "Ah," he said. "Never mind."

And then he went back inside to finish preparing his sermon. He paused at the doorway, looking back towards the cats, who looked about as baffled as cats could look.

"Are you coming?"

And they all tumbled frantically up to greet him, Bobby leading the way.

[ooc: mostly establishing, but the church is always open -- when it exists]

scruffnfeathers

Mildred, the ~~NPC~~ woman who cleaned the church on Tuesdays, had finally laid down an ultimatum. She would no longer be washing Castiel's underthings. He'd just have to learn how to do it, himself.

Which would be why Castiel was currently outside, stringing a line up between two trees in the graveyard. He'd spent quite awhile observing humans, now, and he was certain this was how it was done.

Don't ask where he got such a variety of underthings. It was probably best not to know.

[ooc: Open! But note, there will be iconage with underwear in the actual post. Because I can.]

bigbadgunn.livejournal.com

Gunn's typical routine wasn't to hit the same spot two nights in a row but with certain objects turning human, Gunn was hitting all the typical mystical hotspots (that he knew of) on the island.

After all if objects were becoming human (even if they were friendly) some bad mojo might be behind that. Which meant someone had to be on the lookout.

So yes, Gunn. Graveyard. Saturday.

And as usual: finding nothing stranger than usual.

[Open]

bigbadgunn.livejournal.com

Dead people mysteriously showing up in Fandom?

Oh, yeah. Gunn was patrolling and being extra cautious as a result. Oh, sure, radio made it sound like a happy family reunion for most people but Gunn was definitely not taking the whole thing lightly.

So tonight the hubcap-battleaxe was making an appearance in the graveyard and Gunn was taking his time with the patrol.

Just in case there were some not-so-happy dead people lurking about.

bigbadgunn.livejournal.com

Yep. Another week has rolled by and once again Gunn is back in the graveyard doing his weekly patrol among the gravestones.

And even though nothing has changed in the last umpteen weeks on patrol, he still checks every damn grave for any signs of disturbances or changes that might have occurred from the week before. Of course there were no changes and there probably wouldn't be but that wasn't going to stop Gunn from doing the same damn thing as before.

Why? Hey, it's all about the mission.

[Open for the next hour or two and then SP until late tonight.]

bigbadgunn.livejournal.com

Yep. Another night, another patrol through the graveyard.

This time however he wasn't calling out for vampires to use him as a snack. Nope. That was straight out.

Instead he was being quiet and careful like one should be when hunting for non-existent evil creatures in Fandom.

Hey, one of these days the island is going to get attacked and Gunn's going to be able to say he's been patrolling all along. Until then...

Very quiet patrolling.

[Open though SP until later this evening]

showmetheproof.livejournal.com

And lo, the sun did rise over Fandom. Bright and shiny. Warm and gleaming.

"...ow, ow, ow, ow...."

Awakening those who had slept outdoors. On top of fresh graves. After many, many, drinks.

"Augh. Stupid vodka tonics."

[for

notmyownage, although you're welcome to discover two very hungover girls in a graveyard.]

bigbadgunn.livejournal.com

Gunn was on patrol again.

"Yo? Vampires? Any of you guys about?"

Though it was a bit different this time around.

"I'm O positive! Got plenty here if you're hungry!"

Yeah. Very different.

[IDK. Open.]

therewaslife

Bod had almost decided it too hot to take a walk down to the graveyard today. That was followed by the realization that he was using the weather as an excuse not to visit a place that gave him a few moments of feeling like he was close to home. With that in mind, he'd set out towards town.

It was hot, mind you, but the cloud cover made it a little more comfortable. He expected to end up with a slight sunburn on his face anyway. Still, he didn't mind especially once he'd arrived in the graveyard. Bod didn't know why but it always seemed to settle him, being here. He had no connections with these people, no familiarity with their stories but, if he closed his eyes tightly, he could imagine his parents coming over a nearby hill or could imagine Silas finding him leaning against Nehemiah Trot's grave, half asleep. For a second, he saw Miss Lupescu's face, heard her voice say 'Nimini', and he shut his eyes against that, letting it pass, letting it go.

Once he felt more centered, he wandered rather aimlessly through the tombstones, making note of the epitaphs he hadn't seen before and silently repeating the ones he had. It was warm. Bod wondered if Silas was all right, wherever he was. He didn't dwell on that though and just continued walking and thinking.

[Open, sure, if you're in the area!]

Current Mood: thoughtful

bigbadgunn.livejournal.com

Once again it was Friday night and Gunn was out on patrol making sure that the dead stayed dead.

Sure there hadn't been a vampire invasion or any zombies attacking but you know the one time he skipped doing a patrol the whole damn island would get eaten.

Not a likely scenario, but that was Gunn's justification for doing yet another jaunt through the graveyard.

[Open for any late night interaction or weekend SP goodness.]

bigbadgunn.livejournal.com

You'd think Gunn would have better things to do on a Friday night than go on patrol.

But after his trip back home... well let's just say he's trying to get himself back on the "mission."

Just don't ask him what that mission is. He's not sure of that yet.

[Open for any late nighters. Or SP'ers.]

therewaslife

Bod always seemed to find a measure of calmness upon visiting the graveyard, even if it wasn't the one he wanted it to be. Still, he'd been here enough lately to have memorized epitaphs, both in Latin and English. He'd created simple stories in his head for just from those words, made the names more than just etchings on granite.

Today, he needed the calmness. He hesitated to call his life tumultuous but it had been confusing. And it'd been the kind of confusing that he didn't really know how to deal with. When he'd left home, he wanted to experience everything. Now, he was realizing how idealistic that had been. He still wanted that, wanted everything, but he was having to adapt and adjust to some of the more unexpected things that hadn't really figured into that original statement.

He felt tired. Worn. It was ridiculous, he knew, to be feeling like this when Silas and a graveyard full of ghosts had done so much to make sure that he was safe and that he could be in public without looking over his shoulder. Bod could hear Silas in his mind, telling him in that quiet, precise tone that life isn't and wouldn't ever be easy.

His fingers brushed the top of a tombstone, letting the cold of the granite seep through his fingers. Silas was right, Bod knew. Life wasn't just one side of things. Life was everything. And he just had to figure things out.

[boy is thoughtful but the graveyard's an open place in town!]

Current Mood: thoughtful

therewaslife

When Bod woke up, he knew immediately that something was amiss. He wasn't waking up in his bed and he wasn't opening his eyes to see the dull tones of paint on his ceiling. Instead, he was waking up to see the blue of the sky and the dark clouds that suggested rain was coming.

He was in the graveyard. Again. Still. Whatever. The events of the weekend were fresh in his mind and Bod pushed himself into a sitting position, leaning back against the cold granite of the tombstone and taking a breath. That had been unusual to say the least. Being in the graveyard made sense but he still felt a little out of sorts after everything.

And there was a crick in his neck. Bod rolled his neck, hand massaging the crick and not making any move to leave just yet. With a beginning like this, Bod wasn't sure what to expect of the week.

[graveyard's in town so the post is open!]

Current Mood: pensive

therewaslife

Bod didn't think it was unusual for someone his age to be in a graveyard at night. After all, he'd lived in one before, been friends with ghosts, matched up against ghouls and had lived to tell the tales. It was only natural for him to wander down there now, hand trailing across the tops of tombstones.

He idly read the Latin that was chiseled on some of the graves, repeating the words out loud and in his mind to better get a handle on the language. Even if his tutors weren't here, he still didn't want to disappoint them. He missed home. He missed his mom and dad and he missed Silas.

Bod found a fairly old grave and sat down, back against the cool front of the tombstone. He waited and hoped that maybe he'd see a ghost or maybe he'd see Silas. Maybe this was just like his old home. It wasn't. And he'd be waiting a long time.

[open place in town so it's open!]

Current Mood: moody

bigbadgunn.livejournal.com

It hadn't taken long yesterday to figure out something nutty was going on in Fandom.

Okay... nuttier than usual in Fandom.

Gunn had at least done enough research in Fandom to know that there was such an occasion where people had turned into alternate versions of themselves and that these alternate selves occasionally caused problems.

Which is why Gunn was patrolling in the graveyard with his usual equipment.

Just in case.

[Just in case any of you AU Vamp types want to come out and play...]

scruffnfeathers

Although the Cat seemed to generally be more interested in the indoors than the outdoors when the weather was cold, last night's adventure in trying to keep her from hunting the radio squirrels had lead Castiel to the conclusion that she needed more activity in her life.

And both Chuck and Dean had mentioned the possibility of playing with her.

So Castiel and the Cat were out in the graveyard, Castiel walking regally through the stones as the Cat followed after, leaping into the air and doing somersaults as she attempted to catch his elusive, invisible wings.

Castiel had to admit, it was rather entertaining.

[ooc: open!]

therewaslife

Bod, being the curious sort he was, hadn't been able to stay away from the local graveyard for long. The day was cold (as days in winter tended to go) and Bod had his coat (heavy; his mother would be proud) before arriving on the island wrapped tight around him.

Graveyards weren't ever going to be the busiest places in any town so Bod wasn't surprised to find this graveyard appearing empty. Bod knew, though, that there were people here. At one time, he'd be able to see them and talk to them but that was no longer the case. Nonetheless, Bod knew they were there. Were they watching him right now? Talking about him? Had his name made it across the ocean? Bod left those questions unanswered.

He crouched down in front of one gravestone, hand reaching out to touch the cold stone, letting the chill seep into his fingers. The words here weren't Latin and he read them easily, committed them to memory. It was odd to feel like a stranger in a place similar to the one he'd called home for so long.

But, that's what he was. A stranger. That was all right, though. Bod knew it was. He smiled and moved to another grave, reading quietly.

[open, sure!]

Current Mood: contemplative

scruffnfeathers

Castiel looked down at the Cat. The Cat peered back up at Castiel. It mewed softly.

"Your name," Castiel said, with a faint hint of uncertainty, "is Angelbane."

The Cat didn't seem much to care.

"I'm told I'm supposed to feed you."

The Cat twisted to examine the tip of its tail.

"Are you male or female?"

The Cat attempted to pounce on and kill the tip of its tail.

Castiel sighed. He pulled a can of tuna from his pocket and tried to work out how on earth a cat was supposed to be able to get at the food through all that metal.

It'd occur to him that he had to open it for the Cat eventually.

[ooc: open.]

brat_inslayage

Yeah, yeah, so technically this wasn't her job yet (and might never be, but shut up), but one of Kennedy's two classes this week had been cancelled and she had some extra energy to work off. Besides, who was going to stop her?

So, in the graveyard, a stake in her back pocket and her crossbow slung over her shoulder, patrolling like the Slayer was supposed to do. Aspiring much, Potential? So far, and this was making her a little cranky, absolutely nothing -- except for random Christmas ornaments. What. The. Hell.

All things considered, this was probably not one of Kennedy's better ideas (there were so many of those), but she wasn't about to go back on it now. Even if it was cold. Dammit.

[[i've been meaning to do this for a while, since

sonofmogh said i should. and i haven't gotten to play all day, so... open and all that. seemed like a good time.]]

scruffnfeathers

Both Chuck and Morgan had recommended trying to feed the cat, so here was Castiel, back out in the graveyard, holding a large whole tuna. He didn't spot the cat immediately, so he stood still, seemingly unconcerned with the weight of the dead fish in his hands, and waited. After several moments, a little orange and black nose poked out of the bushes lining the edge of the cemetery that butted up against the church. The nose twitched wildly. Castiel watched, fascinated. The nose poked out further, slowly followed by the rest of the head, eyes wide, whiskers on end, ears pricked up and forward at attention. The nose twitched furiously, and the cat let out a small, curious meow.

"Hello," Castiel greeted it. "Would you like a fish?"

The cat looked from the fish in Castiel's hands to his face, then back. It launched itself from its hiding place with a fierce little "mmrrrrew!" and landed, limbs akimbo in attack position, on the fish.

Castiel stood there passively, continuing to hold the fish aloft, as the cat ruthlessly tore it -- and occasionally, Castiel's tie -- to shreds. Once it had eaten its fill (and then some), the cat stood on the now mutilated tuna, gave a long, contented stretch, whacked Castiel in the face with its tail, then jumped down to the ground, where it began studiously to groom itself, entirely ignoring its now fish-gut-covered benefactor behind it.

"You're welcome," said Castiel.

[ooc: Mmm. Tuna. Public graveyard is open.]

scruffnfeathers

When Mildred came in to do her Tuesday cleaning, she cheerfully informed Castiel that something was "growling in the trees".

As she didn't seem terribly traumatized, Castiel could only assume that it wasn't anything too dangerous, so he took his time before going out into the graveyard to investigate, wings stretched and poised invisibly in response to the supposed threat.

There was indeed something growling in the trees. Emphasis on the was. As soon as Castiel was in jumping range, the thing -- which turned out to be a little, somewhat scraggly looking orange and black cat -- flung itself from the branches with a triumphant howl and landed on Castiel's head. It dug its claws in to Castiel's hair, twisting its body frantically about as it tried to find a good spot to start gnawing.

Castiel sighed and waited patiently for the creature to finish, then reached up to dislodge it.

The cat let out a horrified shriek the moment Castiel's hands came near, took another flying leap, leaving faint welts on Castiel's forehead, and took cover behind a tombstone.

And Castiel thought humans were weird.

[ooc: as open as you want it to be.]

scruffnfeathers

Castiel had found a rather interesting book in the church library, and was now out in the graveyard, attempting to identify which of the various plants growing there might be considered "wicked". So far, he'd managed to identify monkshood, henbane, poison sumac, several mushrooms, and three different members of the nightshade family (including tomatoes). They didn't look that threatening to him.

Castiel popped one of the mushrooms into his mouth and chewed thoughtfully. Really, humans were absurdly fragile.

[ooc: open, natch. This is what happens when you spend your evenings reading a book about "evil" plants]

scruffnfeathers

Castiel wasn't the sort to put something off needlessly, so once he was certain that affairs in the church were in order and that he was not likely to be interrupted, he went out into the graveyard, found a nice, shady corner, and proceeded to talk to himself.

( In which Castiel has a word or two with Jimmy about whether he minds Cass having sex )

Castiel nodded and lit the handrolled cigarette he'd received from Andy. Perhaps it would help . . . fortify him for what Chuck had planned.

[ooc: mostly establishy, but the graveyard is public, so it's also open. Jimmy's side of the convo, being entirely in Castiel's head, is not for broadcast.]

scruffnfeathers

To be perfectly honest, Castiel wasn't at all put out by his vessel's transformation. It was really only luck of the draw that had landed him in a male body, anyway.

Still, he was a bit concerned for Jimmy, who though not entirely aware, wasn't taking to the transformation nearly as well.

Which was why he was pacing in the graveyard, seemingly talking to himself.

"It is most unusual, yes," he said. "But really, I suspect you won't find it that different. And it isn't as though your wife and daughter are here to be bothered by it."

[ooc: totally open.]

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