World Log: Jungle Arrival

[hadrielmods]

Who: Everyone in the city
What: The event log for the Planet Transfer
Where: All over the city
When: March 28th
Warnings: None

One minute you're freezing your ass off in the middle of a light snowstorm, and the next you're suddenly boiling in the wet heat. Sunlight streams down through green- so much green, more green than you could possibly have imagined since coming to Hadriel- and it's beautiful in its own way, if you're into that sort of thing.

The more sensitive of citizens may feel some slight nausea from the move but otherwise everything is as it should be. Alien birds squawk in the trees, you can hear the local fauna rustling through the brilliantly-colored leaves. Everything is alien here, but a forest is universal. Luckily, a section of forest has been cleared away for the city, so you can still see the sky above and you can still move around without getting lost in the thick foliage that surrounds this place, but be careful when exploring! There's no telling what could be out there, and you want to be prepared for anything.

So what is your new home like? It's hot, for one- you might want to shed and burn all those winter coats and Christmas sweaters immediately! You'll be sweating buckets before the day is over, but at least we still have cold showers to help wash off the grime as you adjust to your new life in an alien jungle. Have fun, enjoy your stay, but don't forget: we may need to fight here soon. Be ready.

► This log covers March 28th-March 30th.
► Please tag headers of threads with content warnings where they apply
► Please put your character's name and open/closed in the subject line of your starters!
► If you get bitten by one of the locals, please let us know here.

Comments

Rosen [OTA / Will match format]

[drabsolutelynot]

[Rosen's messily swept up some of the longer pieces of his hair into an awkward ponytuft (it does not have the respectability nor quantity to be called a tail) on top of his head and is wandering with a notebook under his arm and the sleeves of his tatty shirt pushed up to uneven degrees above his elbows. Occasionally he stops, jots something down or squats to do a quick sketch, then he stands and continues again, jaw set in an angled determination.

Though watch your step, because he's entirely focused on his task and is liable to run into you if you don't move out of his way first.

And he's only partly likely to pause even if he does. More likely he will mumble something and continue on his way, nose down]

[theweakhavepurpose]

[Pratt's out exploring because he's so excited that everything is green again. Sure he wanted a forest, and this is a jungle, so the trees are wrong and it's hot as hell, but it's something. He's ecstatic honestly.

Which almost matches the atrocious Hawaiian shirt he's wearing. It's looked ridiculous since he got it, but here it sort of fits in.

Kind of.

He does notice Rosen wandering around and taking notes, something he's pretty familiar with being from a place that attracts all kinds of botanists and amateur wildlife enthusiasts.]

Find anything interesting?

Rosalind Lutece | Bioshock: Infinite | OTA

[originallutece]

I;

[It's humid out.

It's humid out, and miraculously, Rosalind Lutece isn't dying of it.

She's hot, of course. She can still feel temperature changes. But whereas once this kind of environment would have left her disgustingly sweaty and in desperate need of a permanent cold bath, now she merely feels charmed, warmed up without overheating, her too-cold body greedily soaking up the heat.

She can't be under the sun directly, of course, which is why you might find her with an umbrella, wandering in and out of the patches of sunlight. It comes in handy when the bursts of rain occur, but still, it's most definitely to hide from the sun.

Animals are around, as they do when one is in the middle of a forest. And yet Rosalind doesn't seem all that concerned. Indeed: as she walks along the bank, that crocodile like thing bursts out at her, snarling, growling out a warning as it waddles out of the water.

She stares.

It stares back at her.

And then, more than a little awkwardly, with the air of someone who just remember that they've something to do at home, it retreats.

She smiles, gratified. It's nice to be recognized as the biggest, baddest predator around. It's also nice to be able to hear people coming a mile away; she doesn't bother to turn around when she addresses the person behind her.]

I wouldn't linger if I were you. He'll be particularly vicious once I leave.

II.

[Of course, it's not all pleasant.

You know what sucks when you're in the jungle? Sleeping in a coffin made of copper. It's disgustingly hot, even for her; so much so that by the third evening, she's busy outside. Sorry if she keeps you up with her hammering and nailing, but also, she needs something a little more breathable to sleep in, so. Wood it is.

She's not all that good at it, in no small part because she's figuring it out as she goes. It's irritating and she hasn't slept in two days; there's a lot of nails being pried out with her bare fingers and wood being dropped down to the ground with a soft curse.]

III. Closed to Newt;

[Newt is . . . complicated.

Confusing. Confusing for the both of them, honestly, the two of them a mess of assumptions and contradictions and uncertainties that she can only begin to guess at. She knows he knows a version of her. That he'd cared for her to some extent, although Rosalind isn't sure to what degree. Oh, she knows that they'd been friends, that they'd slept together, but that doesn't answer anything. She's just come from a city where everyone slept with everyone; sex isn't a marker for intimacy.

And yet the way he looks at her sometimes, the way he seems to know how she'll react . . . it lends weight to the thought that they'd been close, once. Or-- no. Not her. There is no they. A version of her, that's what she should think, but good god, she's so bloody starved for companionship right now.

Why deny it? She is. She's desperate, lonely, a broken wretched little creature, and here's a man who seems to want to be near her. Is it any wonder she wants desperate to turn towards him? Not give in, not yet, she's not that pathetic, but she can't help but chase this thread. Why not? Why shouldn't she? It doesn't matter. It's not as if she has anything better to do, as if Robert's going to come (he has to, he will, but perhaps it won't be for years and years).

All of this to say that when Newt wakes up this morning, he'll find a few hints she'd been around. There's his lab, for starters: things are absently straightened up, put into more proper positions, organized better than he left them. There's no hint of a spill or half-empty cups of coffee; all his mugs and plates are in the sink. Chairs are pushed in, and then she'd left, because there's only so much she can clean without coming across as passive-aggressive. But she'd straightened up enough, enough to find a letter half-hidden beneath a stack of books, and of course she'd looked, how could she not, and then--

Well. Anyway. The point is, his lab is different.

But maybe the biggest change comes from the Echo flowers. There's a new song they're humming, born from Newt's keyboard, and maybe it's easy to visualize Rosalind there, her fingers gliding over keys, each movement so certain and sure as she draws the song out. It's fairly long and utterly melancholic, and maybe that's not so hard to imagine with her nowadays either.

But what all this leads to, at nine in the morning, is Rosalind herself. She sits at his kitchen table, sipping something dark from a mug. Her hair is tied up in a messy braid, her clothes thinner than the ones she'd arrived in. She likes the heat more now than she had as a human, but that doesn't mean she can bear it easily. She's even rolled her sleeves up to her elbows.

She's also reading a letter. Rereading, really. Her fingers smooth over it as he walks in, and she tips her head up, though she doesn't yet glance back at him.]

You've been avoiding me, Newt.

[It seems as though he's been avoiding everyone. And why shouldn't he? A man dies, of course he's going to avoid people. She can understand that. She can certainly relate to it.

But-- and this is important-- Rosalind has never once considered herself a part of what she considers people. He ought to avoid them, that's all well and good. But why should he ever avoid her?]

IV. Wildcard;

[JUST MAKE SHIT UP I'm easy, Ros will be in the lab or basking in the heat. Or hit me up if you want to plan something else out!]

Re: Rosalind Lutece | Bioshock: Infinite | OTA

[drabsolutelynot]

I. Pls!

...I hadn't planned on it....

[Rosen's voice, soft and somewhat graveled with age, betrays how odd he finds this scenario. Not beyond belief, given his experiences here and well...his experiences at home...but the strangeness still makes him wary. He slows to a full stop several paces away until he knows how this will play out.]

Is it a friend of yours?

iii obvs

[completelycrazy]

[Newt has not been sleeping well as of late. Imagine that. Not that his sleeping habits have ever been strictly normal, per se, but they worked for him. He's been known to go days without rest while engrossed in some project only to later pass out for so long that he's not immediately sure what day it is when he wakes up, even after looking at the clock. It's not healthy, he knows, but it's his choice.

So spending each night rolling around fitfully, either unable to sleep or waking up sweating and clutching his throat when he does, is annoying. It's more than annoying, actually, but he's going to call it annoying. It's easier.

All this to say: Newt hears someone monkeying around outside his room, but he chooses to ignore it. Chances are, it's Semiyon finally getting sick of his shit and tidying up after him. Good. That was their arrangement, after all, and it's better than him crashing Newt's pity party.

He crawls out of bed eventually, once it's late enough in the morning that trying to sleep is truly pointless, and then he stumbles out of his bedroom in his underwear. It's warm enough for it, and it's not like Semiyon hasn't already seen—]

Oh. Um.

[As if Rosalind seated his table making accusations wasn't jarring enough, the echo flowers start up as soon as he moves through the doorway. There was all of a second or two between the start of their song and him noticing Rosalind at the table, but really, he knew she was there even before he saw her. It's instinctive—who else would be capable of immediately mastering the echo flower chorus?

He stands at the edge of the kitchen, kicking himself for not having bothered to put on more clothes and not really knowing why he's hung up on that particular detail.]

Not... you specifically. It's not p— Hey!

[Without his glasses, he hadn't quite pieced together what she was reading, but now that he has, he crosses to the table in an attempt to snatch it away from her. Like that'll matter.]

ii.

[webshoots]

[ peter hasn't slept properly since his arrival — fitful nights of sleep broken only by inevitable crashes when he's too tired to pay attention to the endless concerns and worries and thoughts that keep him awake at night; before, he'd waved it off with a loose 'it's too cold' followed by blaming it on everything that had happened with the — well, whatever the hell that had been with half the city intent on killing the other half.

now, though? he's settling on blaming it on the bangs coming from outside, irregular and he's a light sleeper, okay? (if asked). the humidity doesn't drop even at night. it's a stark contrast to the snow and the cold and quite frankly, peter isn't sure which he's less a fan of. he's hot and clammy and the layers he'd opted for previously have been swapped for shorts and a t-shirt, though it's not quite helping — he's used to humidity in summer, but this is something else entirely.

(gross gross gross.)

he recognises her, of course: rosalind(, the vampire). he's seen her in and around the lab, though their paths — peter's and hers — had crossed only in terms of various iterations of excuse me. his skill with diy isn't much better than hers (though he harbours a sneaking suspicion he could do better than that), and he watches her build (or: attempt to build, key word — attempt) to build what he can only assume is supposed to be a box for only a moment before chiming in with: ]

I'm guessing the instructions got lost in the move. [ he shifts his weight a touch, peering at her handiwork with curiosity he doesn't attempt to disguise. ] Maybe if you put a complaint in to the gods, they'll provide us with an Ikea.

1.

[unphase]

[Tinya shrugs]

It's okay, I can just phase to avoid it.

[which she can do. every time they switch worlds, she worries that they'll reach one where she won't be able to phase into the other dimension. but she can, so that gives her at least a little hope that wherever they are, Earth (and Bgztl) have to be somewhere]

Not everyone's gonna be so lucky, though, so thanks for the warning.

II.

[bloodburdened]

[Mariane finds this weather far too hot for her armor, although she is loath to shed it. she's of the opinion that any kind of attack can happen at any time and she'd not be unprepared for it. she'll just have to take long, cold showers to deal with the heat when she's home.

she does hear the sound of hammering from her house and goes out to investigate, finding Rosalind at work on what looks like a large, human sized box. she looks as though she's not having an easy time of it.

not that Mariane has ever had to construct anything, either, but. perhaps she can at least try to be of some assistance?]

Care for another set of hands?

I. it's ME

[nonscriptum]

[ It's humid out, which means it's the kind of weather in which Nathan Drake particularly thrives.

He'd never been fucking happier to be caught completely off-guard than when - in the middle of a walk just leaving the town, into the tundra for a couple laps - he found himself suddenly sweating bullets in a coat in the kind of rainforest he'd expect to see in Cerro Santiago, in the dense valleys between Panama and Colombia. It feels and tastes and smells like a home he once had, for a little while, though the plants are slightly different and the animals downright alien. Par for the course, for Hadriel.

Nate loves this climate. It's evident in the way he was happy to shuck off his outerwear and revert to his standby, the stickiness in the air giving him saturating lungfuls of a place that finally feels alive. Maybe more evident is the spring in his step as he explores their new perimeter, wandering further out through the undergrowth that sprawls across the forest floor. It's darker here, with light spattering through in rare patches, opening up near small bodies of moving water.

Sketchbook in hand he scribbles and walks lazily, with the air of a man comfortable in the environment despite the dampness. Nate only lifts his head when he hears rushing water, stepping through crowded plant life and seeing something that looks like a caiman slither back into the water several feet away from a woman standing under a parasol.

Nate meanders past a mangrove, happy to bask in the sunlight while they have it. ]

I've probably dealt with worse. [ Not necessarily untrue. He looks at her askance. ] New here?

Sansa Stark (OTA)

[stonebird]

(First Impressions)

(Her heavy dress, her fur cloak and all her various undergarments are simply too much. Upon feeling the heat of the jungle, Sansa finds a quiet place to strip off her layers, changing instead into a pair of trousers she uses for sword practice and a lightweight tunic. Her hair is hopelessly long, so it takes her some time to braid it and secure it with a ribbon. Then she slips on some boots and tries to prepare herself for a whole new range of monsters and obstacles.

She really should be accustomed to this by now.)

Is everyone safe? (Drawing her sword - a precious gift from Maedhros - she slices through the leaves, searching for others who might feel a bit more disoriented.) It's alright. The move is done.

(For now.)

We should see to any injuries swiftly. I don't know what awaits us.

Re: Sansa Stark (OTA)

[hoperulesdespairdrools]

I'm fine! [He's a little nauseous but he's honestly faced much worse, considering what has happened in his life.] I'm not hurt. That move could have been much worse, considering. We check and see if the others are all right, though.

What about you, though? You're not hurt, are you?

[unfortunateimmortal]

[ Maria had been meaning to seek Sansa out, ever since their little encounter she couldn't get the other woman out of her mind. Though, Maria had done terrible things before they were so rudely transported here. She'd kept a low profile, sequestered herself away from everyone for everyone's safety.

As she approached, her steps were almost silent in the overgrown foliage. Still donned in her full Hunter attire, hat, boots and several layers, yet she didn't seem to even break a sweat. ]

Lady Sansa. Are you well?

[ There was a kindness in her strange, foreign accent. Despite her calm, cool appearance, she seemed to truly care for the others wellbeing. ]

Allow me. It would be foolish to overexert yourself. Accustom yourself first, climatizing can be taxing when you're usual dwellings are far more cold and harsh.

[ Swinging her trick blade in its two forms, slicing through amble rows of bush and shrub as if she were sinking a hot knife into butter. ]

It alarms me that the Great Ones can be so careless with us. We should look out for ourselves as much as possible. In saying that, I believe I saw a clearing with some shade. I'll show you.

[utulien_aure]

I'm unharmed.

[Fingon tells her, amused, and nods approvingly at her change of garments.]

Are you prepared for this heat? I know you prefer colder climates.

[unphase]

[it's also way too hot for Tinya's Legion uniform. so she went to one of the shops and managed to find a white sundress to change into. sometimes the stores can not be absolute jerks and she's glad that this is one of those times.

fortunately for Tinya, she can phase through the vegetation surrounding her. and also phase through Sansa's sword as she encounters the other girl while she slices through the vegetation]

Ooops! Sorry about that, I should've been paying more attention. So, [with a wry grin] what do you think of all this?

[bloodburdened]

[Mariane is still in her armor, though there is a slight sheen of sweat on her brow. however, she doesn't feel comfortable shedding it just yet, this place is too new, too unsual, too unlike anything she's ever been to before.

in fact, it reminds her of Sten's descriptions of Seheron and she takes a moment to miss her friend]

I am well enough. And you?

[roseofthetyrells]

[this climate is even warmer than what she was used to in The Reach, so she too has woven her long hair into a braid. she has not however changed from her usual gown. it's her coolest one, backless and with cut-outs at the midriff. and she, too, bears her usual sword]

Have people been injured? I admit, it was a bit of a surprise to go from frigid cold to such humidity and heat. Do you think others may be in shock due to the change?

Delmar [ 1 Closed + OTA ]

[imhisaunt]

1. Closed to Harlan

[It is a well-established fact that Delmar is not good with change. It is another well-established fact that Delmar has nearly made wearing layers, namely sweaters and collared shirts, a religion. As such, the sudden shift to a jungle planet has him particularly flustered and out of sorts.

In time he'll perhaps come to enjoy the bright colors and the odd looking but cheerful birds, but for the moment he is on a mission, marching determinedly (if not light-heatedly given his refusal to wear weather-appropriate clothing) to the door of one Harlan Halliday, and when he arrives he's knocking in his polite yet harried way.

Please still be here, Harley]

The Bakery [OTA]

[Delmar has discovered, to his horror, that vibrant and alien foliage has nearly consumed his bakery. It's curling around chair legs, covering the counter tops...and it had taken some maneuvering and getting himself scratched up to get through the door in the first place.

If you happen to pass by you might hear the sounds of shuffling, banging, and loud fretting, and if you peek inside you will see one older man, his cheeks pink and dusted with dirt as he tries to wrestle with some vines, and his nice sweater smudged with mud as he is seemingly failing in his endeavor.]

1

[ghostlocked]

[With his magic back in full swing, Harlan answers the door about a second after Delmar knocks. He's wearing his usual jeans and, because he's at home, a t-shirt. This planet isn't actually as hot as he was afraid it would be, but, still. Humidity is gross and bad.]

Hey, Del. What's up?

Lucretia | OTA

[madamdirector]

i.

[ Well, this whole month has sucked.

The whole soulmates thing had had some awkward repercussions afterwards, but honestly, it hadn't been bad. Not at all. It had been great while it lasted, actually, and if Taako had seemed even more set on ignoring the shit out of her afterwards, they'd at least had a few hours of normalcy. Plus, there's nothing like suddenly finding yourself soulmates with someone to fasttrack new friends. Worth it, for sure.

This month, though? Delight's death and the overwhelming sadness that had followed? Hadriel's own personal Hunger Games? Nah. No, there had been nothing good about that at all.

Her staff still bears the scorch marks from her fight with Taako. Mending really isn't meant to repair fire damage, but she's making it work. Slowly. It's hot out, but after months of icy cold Lucretia's willing to take it, sitting out in the shade of a tree, stripped down to capris and a sleeveless shirt, and patiently casting the spell again and again, repairing the damage one bit at a time.

She glances up whenever anyone passes by, looking slightly apprehensive at first, then relaxing and smiling in greeting whenever it proves to be someone she doesn't have any recent, awkward, murder-y history with. ]

ii.

[ Later, once she finishes mending her staff or maybe just does as much as she's willing to do for the day, Lucretia decides to explore. It's fascinating, the way the entire city had moved, whole buildings and their content untouched - and yet the surrounding environment is entirely new. The plan is to observe the local flora and fauna, take a few notes, make a few sketches.

It's exactly what she does. An hour or so later will find her bent over her notebook, engrossed in sketching the lizard that seems to be almost posing a foot or so in front of her. She's so busy flicking her eyes up to the lizard, then back down to her sketchbook, and back up again over and over that she's effectively deaf and blind to all else - including the large crocodiloid creature that's taken an interest in this new thing sitting on its riverbank, and is slowly ambling forward to take a closer look. Or maybe an exploratory bite or two. You never know.

Hopefully someone else happens to see all this and warn her before she becomes lunch. ]

II;

[originallutece]

That's a rather good drawing.

[She says it softly. There'd been no sound as she walked up behind her, but that isn't meant to be creepy. She just can't make much noise anymore, in the same way ballet dancers have a hard time clunking around.

Rosalind steps forward, shifting so she's standing between the reptilian . . . alligator . . . thing . . . and this woman, staring down at it. She does not look impressed.]

But perhaps you'd best finish it another time.

Fingon | OTA

[utulien_aure]

i.

The city whirls away in the moment between one breath and another, and for the first time in months Fingon lifts his face to the sun and enjoys the feel of the light across his face. With the exception of the desert planet, it's been years since he's felt this warm- not since the Aman of his youth, perhaps, given the relative chill of Beleriand.

It will be nice, he thinks as he stretches his limbs, to put the furs away for a while. What he has to replace them, though... he shrugs at the thought, shucking his tunic off and climbing up to the curved roof of his house. That can wait until he's enjoyed a bit more sunlight.

ii.

The sunbathing was fun, but now it's time to go be marginally responsible. Fingon checks the shops to see if they have anything useful or clothing that doesn't make him want to die again to avoid it. As usual, the latter is sparse.

He also takes the opportunity to check the wards he and his cousins set up in town- the ones over Sansa's house and Margaery's shop. Any passersby will hear him singing under his breath as he works, seeing how they fared in the move and restoring any power lost over time.

iii.

There are flower-bearing shrubs in front of the Fire House doors.

Not terribly large ones, yet; no one's going to have to cut through the plants to make their way inside. But it's going to be very inconvenient if they keep growing, and if there's an emergency the fire engines might have a problem with them.

With more than a few plants he's seen in the city, actually, and perhaps he should take that up with Oscar. But for now, it's time to try to get these plants out of the way.

"I need you to move," he addresses them in Sindarin, "I know you were here first and it isn't fair, but you're likely to be crushed otherwise. I'd rather not see that."

Not surprisingly, the plants don't move on their own. Fingon thinks they may be a bit more alert than they were before, but it's proven harder to tell when dealing with non-Arda plants. And he's a Noldo, and not terribly good at this in the first place. But they do seem... more amenable now, at least? That's a start.

He shrugs, and goes off to find a shovel so that he can move them properly.

ii

[soldier_blade]

Strictly speaking, Sonya didn't work at Margery's shop, but she visited often enough, usually for tips or supplies. With the weather gone from freezing to sweltering, that definitely meant altering or just outright changing some gear. Her own skills meant she could alter her clothes just as well, but it still meant getting new fabric.

She was just leaving the shop itself with some shirts when she thought she heard singing. A soft song, not too obvious, but enough for her to stop and listen, as well as look to who was singing.

Nick Valentine [closed to Nathan Drake]

[synthedick]

The move is immediate, though as with most of the times the city has suddenly shifted location, Nick finds himself just a hair disoriented as all his systems simultaneously adjust. With the influx of heat comes humidity -- high, if the initial scan from his internal instruments holds water. Bad news for the parts he has rusted already. More light, more plants, more life in general as his auditory systems pick up on all the new sounds around him. His processor hesitates for a few seconds as it queues up the next scan, the space filled with a brief flash of memories from a sunny day at a park he can hardly recall the name off.

Such is the life of a man who often has to juggle his computerized data and the very real memories of a life he never lived.

That's one reason he makes his way to the roof of the closet store, hoping for a quiet moment to clear his head. Another is it'll allow him to get a quick look around, just to make sure nothing unsavory came with them in the move. A third reason is he wants a second to figure out what he needs to say to the Guard, if anything. In light of the past couple of months, what with the discoveries of the Null lab and the other worlds, the failed exchange, and the bloodshed that followed, he's had trouble addressing the organization he's supposed to be leading. What good are they if they can't protect the people he cares about? What good is he?

Nick lights a cigarette as he perches himself on the edge, his eyes on the jungle before him, but his mind anywhere else.

[nonscriptum]

One minute he's freezing his ass off in the middle of a light snowstorm, and the next he's standing in the middle of what looks, smells, and sounds like the dense jungles of Panama. If he didn't know better - and he does, given his experience with tropical flora - he'd say it was exactly that. All the hallmarks line up: the heat that has him peeling off his coat, the humidity that started beading sweat on his skin the instant the transfer happened, the screeching of something that sounds like howler monkeys in the distance.

But he turns, realizing that he doesn't recognize these flowers, these plants, and sees the housing towers of Hadriel. The edge of the trees stop here. For a minute there, he'd almost thought he was close to home.

"Aw, crap."

He needs a better vantage. In his many years exploring desolate and lost places, finding equally desolate and lost things, Nate knows from learned experience that higher ground is just about the best place to be unless someone's rocket-launching helicopter is on your tail. Nate ditches his jacket on a twisting pile of vines and sets to scaling the little main street shops, two- and three-story buildings with a clearer view.

Hopping over the side from an alley he stops short upon seeing a figure at the ledge. He hesitates awkwardly, not wanting to interrupt but recognizing the frayed edges of a trench coat, the familiar hat. Little late to turn around now.

Nate ambles over, trying to be conspicuous so as to not be accused of sneaking, and rests a hand on the parapet.

"This spot taken?"

alphys | ota

[sciencelizard]

[She has been waiting for this for so long.

Alphys has spent the vast majority of her time in the last few months indoors, and not really by choice. The cold was not her friend and never became it, so when the poll for the next island came up she was frantically slapping her hand on the button for 'please get me out of here' as fast as she can. So as soon as the temperature shifts, the color outside going blindingly different, she leaps out of her chair and smacks off her heat lamp to run right into the sunshine.

The her of a few years ago would never be so enthusiastic, but even as they run into a world-ending conflict, she feels ecstatic.

Ironically, where she can be found looks much less excited and much more like herself. While everyone else sweats, Alphys has found a rock at the edge of the city and is laid out on it, seeming to be sunning herself under the beams. She's on her back, looking deeply lazy and very satisfied.

If anyone approaches, she's also singing a little to herself, kicking her feet but not her legs in time to some unseen beat.]

Magical love, magical kiss, you've shined a light on my whole world my friend, l-love is in the air, beauty's everywhere, the magic of your love lasts forever...!

[Are the Null coming to attack get them all? For right now, she wouldn't know.]

[toiletseat_girl]

[George doesn't really give a shit about climate. a Reaper warms or chills to the local ambient temperature without really feeling it themselves, so she's been fine on the islands, fine on the ice planet, and she'll be fine here.

she has, however, shed her sweater and jeans for a grey tank-top and jean shorts with sunglasses as a nod to the new local climate.

it doesn't . . . completely suck? it's apparently hotter and more humid (that much, she can tell) than Seattle ever was but whatever. she'll deal. she always does.

as she explores, she comes across Alphys. she seems so happy, George doesn't really wanna interrupt, but the snapping of twigs under her feet gives her away. oooops?

might as well make the best of it]

Hey. Looks like you're having fun.

kate galloway; ota; will match format

[dedikated]

— immediately post-shift;
( She missed the voting in the aftermath of the ache and chaos of Delight's death and Rage's effects, too busy trying to shake off the lingering guilt and horror of those days, the coldness in the pit of her stomach which has nothing to do with the temperature of the arctic planet.

As such, the shift from a frozen wasteland, cold and grey and lifeless, to overwhelming amounts of green and stifling, humid air pressing down on her, earns one very apt exclamation: )

Fucking hell—

( Her hoodie — lined with fluff, brightly coloured and bearing the slogan all monsters are human — is quickly discarded, tossed over her shoulder in the rough direction of a wall she was walking past, hair already sticking to her face as it comes loose.

This is a damn sight better than the cold, but still. Next is the long-sleeved top that was underneath. Sleeves are yanked off with the casual ease a person might tear paper in half, revealing the streak of dark discolouration across her left arm, old burn scars standing stark against skin left pale from months of a frozen wasteland of a planet. Kate wipes sweat from her brow with a scrap of the materials, a moment's pause where she frowns at the remnants before pocketing them.

A shop. She needs a shop. The lack of sleeves might help (as does tearing the remaining piece of shirt open so she can knot it at the base of her ribs), but these jeans still need to go. )

— wildcard;
( Other places you can find Kate include: the lab, climbing the trees to get a better view, the guard HQ / training spaces, and Hope's temple!
If you want to chat out an idea, hit me up on discord (isanghae#8071) or plurk (forethought)! )

[toiletseat_girl]

[where she will find George.

George doesn't technically need to find climate-appropriate clothing, being a Reaper, but she figures that if she runs around in a sweater and jeans, she'll raise eyebrows. of those who don't know she's a Reaper.

honestly, it's probably the worst-kept secret in Hadriel at this point.

whatever.

just so long as only a select few know of what she's truly capable of.

that's cool.

so she's stripping down out of a sweater and blue jeans and into a grey tank top and jeans shorts without any shame whatsoever. let others ogle at her nonexistent tits. fuck 'em]

Hey. Had the same idea I did?

Jo Harvelle | OTA | will match format

[knifecollecting]

[As many times as she has been through a move, she still feels unused to the sudden changes.

Jo still has some of the clothes from their tenure in the desert, and she's grateful for that after her first trip out the door. After an outfit change, she heads out to see how things are on the new planet.

In cutoff jean shorts and with her machete at her side, as usual, Jo almost looks like she belongs in the jungle. She might have to ask one of the gods for some better shoes sooner or later.

She usually visits as many shops as she can in a day, but today her path is indiscriminate. It's nice to be outside without her nose freezing. Plus, unlike the desert planet, it's a bearable heat even if humid.

Jo stops when she sees someone and waves.]

At least there's only one sun.

[bloodburdened]

[Mariane is in her armor with a slight sheen of sweat on her brow.

don't bring that to her attention, she'll be mortified.

she's also bearing her sword and dagger. technically, she's on patrol for the Guard. or at least she was before they switched planets, she assumes that her duty would extend past that.

she waves back awkwardly at Jo]

Was there a time you had more than one?

sonya blade | ota (will match format)

[soldier_blade]

(i)

The heat hit her like the slap of a wet gym towel. Dressed as she was for the cold weather, Sonya suddenly felt as though she was being smothered, the layers of clothes now working too well at retaining body heat. Stripping down to just a thin tank top and using a knife to make her pants into a quick pair of shorts, Sonya gathered the rest of her clothes and headed back to the Guard's HQ.

To anyone passing by, she'd greet them with a nod of her head, still trying to keep a grip on her clothes.

(ii)

The jungle was the one place Sonya wanted from the beginning, and now that they were there, she didn't regret it either. The jungle was cover, and had resources that the tundra lacked. There was danger of course, no place was completely safe, but what was available, they could work with.

Years ago, part of her military training involved survival, and both the jungle and the woods were areas she learned just to do that. The jungle area were they were may've been strange in some areas, but she was able recognize certain plants and branches. These she cut down with her axe and proceeded to tear them apart.

Along the path, anyone spotting her would see her forming a sort of netted box or cage, using the fibrous wood to weave it into shape.

(iii)
Wildcard: have a different idea for a starter, contact me on plurk at Rschartz501 or discord at Rschwartz501#6755

Elena Fisher | OTA

[storyseeker]

i. exploring

[Elena has been in enough jungles to know that just because it's warm doesn't mean it's safe. Quite the opposite—they're in no danger of freezing to death, sure, but lush foliage and humidity can and do conceal a lot of predators. This world might be even more dangerous than the last.

She doesn't care.

This is what she was meant for, tromping around tropical (?) locales, going deeper into the tree line because you never know what it might conceal, adventuring. Part of her even feels kinda nostalgic.

She brings her gun and a couple of knives, of course, as well as water and the usual basic survival supplies one carries into the jungle. She's not a fool. Maybe a little reckless, though. Turning toward her fellow explorer, she grins brightly, wider than she has in months.]

I love this world.

ii. climbing

[She's just gotta.

Nate gets labeled the climber because he climbs ridiculous structures to ridiculous heights, often before he and they come crashing down, but that doesn't mean it's just his thing. There's a reason she came in second place on her reality show and got her own gig in uncharted-ish lands, after all. After she's made sufficient progress, Elena picks the tallest climbable-looking tree she can find and climbs higher...and higher...and higher.

It's a pretty good view. And unless someone's looking up, they'll never see her. So she calls to them instead.]

Hey! How's the weather down there?

[outofthefire]

[oh, jeez. it's Elena. one of her closest friends here. one she tried to fill full of arrows during the latest fake god thing.

so of course Laura runs into her when she's in a precarious position at the top of a tall tree. of course.

she smiles and tries to act like everything's normal (hah!) and says]

Hot and steamy down here! How's it up there?