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

[originallutece]

[She stares up at him for a long few seconds. It's a blank stare, that says that she is neither impressed with that bit of butterknife-sharp wit nor his attempts at helping, which are nil. It's a look that says she is tired, and she does not wish to put up with this shit. And it is a look that, frankly, suggests that her choice to eat artificial blood instead of getting the good stuff is very much a moral choice and can change at any point in time.

She has not slept in two days.]

If you're not going to help, I suggest you move on before a stray nail just happens to embed itself in your foot.

[webshoots]

[ —okay, she has a point is what the brief wince that crosses his expression says. it's not — ostensibly — a reaction to the threat (that's negligible), but more to the fact that she definitely has a point. he holds a hand up: ] Sorry. [ there's a genuineness to the utterance along with a mild sheepishness, and he inhales once, audibly, and shifts his weight to reconsider her her attempt to build a—

—oh, right, he's not supposed to know she's a vampire, is he? (is he? questions for the age.) his lips twist briefly, ] What is it supposed to be? [ and besides, don't they say something about assumptions? asses, you, me—

—but if it is what he assumes, then how difficult can it really be? he designed and created his web shooters at fifteen, a glorified box can't be rocket science (haha.) ]

[originallutece]

A coffin.

[She says it like it's obvious, which, honestly, it's not, Ros, your experiences aren't universal.]

One that's both comfortable and attractive, hence my continued efforts.

[webshoots]

[ attractive are you for real—.

he glances up at the sky for a moment and manages not to roll his eyes. ] Right. [ okay, that's it, peter withdraws his not-yet-verbalised offer of help because rosalind, you are being way too precious about your coffin. a sideways glance— ] I think you're asking quite a lot of the resources to hand.

[originallutece]

And where do you sleep, Mr. Parker?

[Her hands haven't stopped working, but she glances up at him sharply.]

Do tell. Describe your bed for me.

[webshoots]

Uh— [ he looks surprised at that question, genuinely, like he's not entirely sure if there's a right answer, and it takes him a moment to put together a response.

(or: ros, are you sure you want to ask peter parker what his bed looks like...) ] It's a bed. [ no but really, how is he— ] It's flat, with a blanket, a pillow and a mattress of questionable origin that I'm trying not to think too hard about. It's not attractive.

[originallutece]

Is it elevated off the floor? Is it soft, Mr. Parker? Does it have comforts?

[webshoots]

Of course it's elevated, it's a bed. [ and he's not a total heathen; why are you interrogating him about his bed, it wasn't the comfort thing he took issue with, it was the attractive thing. ] Look, your — coffin can be as comfortable as you want or need it to be, I just—

[ sighing. ] —What do you mean by attractive?

[originallutece]

I mean that I'm forced to sleep in a bloody coffin, so I might as well make facing the prospect every sunset to at least not be half so appalling. If I'm to climb into a great wooden trap, I'd at least like it to be somewhat appealing.

[webshoots]

[ that's



actually absolutely fair. peter's used to not sleeping, but he's also used to being able to come and go at any hour of the day or night and it hadn't quite occurred to him that, for obvious reasons, she wasn't able to do the same. though there's the question of: what happens if she tries to sleep somewhere that isn't a coffin, that's perhaps less pertinent than: ]

But what does that mean to you? I mean, I could care less about what my bed looks like as long as it's functional. [ which is also why probably the only thing he'd be able to accurately describe about it is the colour of the bedsheets. ]

[originallutece]

[A beat, and she sighs.]

It would be nice if it could look a bit like it could fit in my old bedroom. Golds and reds, an actual intricacy as opposed to some kind of . . . bare-bones box.