Docking Plot Post One

[girl_who_waited]

In general, Amy sort of counts herself in the lazy sort of spectrum of people. If you're going between Eeyore and somebody in the Olympics, she's definitely more at home in the Thousand Acre Woods, thanks. But even for her, even with the world's library sort of at her fingertips if the sorting bits would work themselves out, she just feels stagnant and weirdly pudgey and honestly, that is not going to happen.

Which is why she's running, and honestly, while she knows that's why all she can ask herself is Why did I this this was a good idea? Because Amy's sort of made of gawky knees and elbows, and she's got the grace of a baby giraffe, but she's doing it, by god, because she's decided she will. Which is why when the voice cuts into her haze of why why why this sucks my legs hurt don't trip over your own feet for god's sake she's actually thankful for the interruption. "Attention," it says, and Amy stops, half bent over, her hands braced on her thighs as she breathes hard. "The station had successfully completed docking procedures and the transporters are now active. Please proceed to the Porta Ianualis for transport to the planet's surface."

And funny enough, she's there already, and she lifts her head as she tries to catch her breath, watching the message crawl across the screens, her brows furrowing as she stares at the video screens, the jungle interspersed with arching shots of hiking, and then- "Oh, you've got to be kidding," she murmurs even as her smile slowly spreads. There's a proper sort of temple thing, all vines and it's ruins, and honestly, if she's going to find him, if she's going to find the Doctor, it's this sort of place. She stands up properly, nodding once before she turns, and jogs - without thinking about her own misery and shins and things, thanks - back to her room to get her things together.

It's less sports bra and lycra shorts and trainers, and more hiking boots and shorts and a flannel with a tank top under it, the backpack she'd grabbed before stuffed with a blanket and a water bottle (it'd taken hours of cajoling to get the replicator to give it over - that'd been her mission, last week.) and a flashlight and some rope that was from some experimental dress piece thing she'd taken apart. Because honestly? Amy Pond was ready for this, and she'd been getting ready for this, and she sort of had a giant chunk of her closet for this crap, so there you go. She's out, and already walking back to the Porta Ianualis, and the teleporters-are-open timer is already at 05:32:41. "Here goes nothing," she says, and turns-

"Oh my god," she says with a laugh. "What in the world are you wearing?" Because she's staring at Spock - Mr. Spock, yeah? Spock she arrived with, Spock that was a pain in her ass more than a tad, and he's wearing the ugliest sweater known to mankind and he looks a bit like death on a plate. It's a pretty quick conversation - he's sick and she's not wasting time, but she still heads down with the first group, other people turning up in the transport hub and they're just curious, but she's got a job to do. When her boots hit spongey rainforest sort of soil, even if it's in the middle of a camp, her brows furrow. Because-

"Well, I guess that's not exactly a warm welcome," she murmurs, staring at the abandoned camp.

Baser Instincts Day One: Gathering

[to_boldly]

Jim is not sulking.

He is a man of twenty-five distinguished years, a Captain of a starship and a decorated officer of Starfleet. He does not sulk, and if his mouth is turned in a petulant frown over the high neck of his sweater, it's only because it, like every other part of his mouth, aches with fever.

It's certainly not because after arriving at the Porta Ianualis Jim didn't beam down as so much as barf on the transporter pad. And it's certainly not because being stuck up here while everyone else seeks adventure below makes him feel fussy.

Scowling, Jim turns away from the transport and heads out into the station proper, gratified, at least, that he's not the only one stuck aboard. It's not like him to be selfish, but he takes a certain pleasure that Spock is stuck topside as well. Though the Vulcan is every bit as ill as Jim, at least up here he can't go down without his BFF, a title promised to Jim by destiny and also some seriously complicated time-travel.

"Ha," Jim murmurs, following it up with a surprised cough. What the hell is wrong with him? Spock is itching to beam down as badly as he is, and Jim's regarding their mutual illness as a good thing? He shakes his head, but the little knot of satisfaction doesn't go away. In fact, it only grows, and Jim finds himself smirking at the station floor. "Misery really does love company."

[ooc: please see this post for details (second section). Gathering post for day 1 of the station plot, tag in and tag each other anywhere in the station and experience the first effects of the plot! Jim will have his own top level for threads]

(no subject)

[born_guilty]

Well, she thought, as the stone slab slid shut behind them, you've made your choice. There hadn't been a lot of time, and she wanted to just get on with the thing rather than trying to organize a game plan with this crowd. In the end, the timer and the trick with the pressure pads had meant that most everyone had to make their choice based either on the company they wanted or whichever door they'd ended up closest to.

Erik, guided maybe by intuition or out of a more general decisiveness, had chosen the second door in, and Raven was going with him. She wasn't sure how much control he'd have in a temple that seemed to be mostly made of stone, but even without his ability he was sharp, intelligent, and coolheaded. Not to mention the fact that he seemed a little protective of his kid sister Raven back home, and that might go a long way for her, if she needed it to.

Without even warning the rest of them, and only favoring her with a quick glance before doing so, he'd disappeared through the first door, and she'd hurried up and followed behind, not waiting to see if anyone else was coming along for the ride.

(no subject)

[onlythefire]

The room they stood in was larger than the audience hall in the Red Keep, larger than almost the Red Keep itself. Where the wall had fallen in, sunlight filtered through, putting a shine on the tiled floor and warming the red and yellow bricks. The place was huge; what it had once been, Sandor couldn't possibly have said, but he'd heard the words "tomb" and "temple" offered up, and thought both lacking. Not enough dead bodies for the first, and not enough priests for the second.

People were gathering around the doors on the far wall, inspecting them, murmuring to each other. Sandor went to join them, but hung back; he wasn't going to loom up behind a group of people, especially now that he was armed to the teeth with as many knives as he could wear without turning himself into a pincushion. There wasn't really anyone there he felt the need to stick near, anyway. As long as he was on the opposite side of the room from the Kingslayer, he was happy.

There was noise from behind him then, and the pitch of voices raised in excitement, and then everything was happening at once. One of the doors was open, a cluster of people standing in front of it. A man in blue started running back and forth from the pile of rubble in the far corner, carrying enormous rocks like they were feather pillows. When enough rocks were piled in front of the doors they opened, by magic or some hidden mechanism. And then people were going through the doors, and when the one in front of them yawned open Newt looked back at Sandor with her eyebrows raised, and he thought, Fuck it, and followed her through.

( Read more..... )

(no subject)

[girl_who_waited]

Number one thing she's regretting, it's that she didn't wear proper trousers. Amy's not exactly a fan of jeans, but it's cold, and cold was the last thing that she'd really expected when they'd stood in front of the door, the heat making sweat trickle down her spine - and now here they are, and it's cold, but it's beautiful too in a way that she'd not been expecting either. There's prisms of rainbows thrown on the walls and ceilings, each rainbow spawning a hundred more, infinitely smaller so that their skin is painted in glowing light. They're the darkness in this place, the only thing that's not delicate and light and crystal. It's just the five of them, a line of people climbing the stairs, and Amy's sort of not saying anything because both she's cold and this is-

Okay, so yeah, it's a huge ruined temple and they're getting a crown or whatever, but it's that it's beautiful, and she knew that Rory would love it, and she's so wrapped up in herself and that it's been four months almost and she knows she should move on or something, that she should know that he's not coming, but she's always waited. And it made her angry, that she had to wait, that she wasn't enough to get it right, and whelp, those are her issues, and she's climbing the stairs both like they're the most gorgeous thing ever, her hand on the railing that looks like blown glass, but also like she's angry at them, which is kind of weird and stupid.

"So," she finally says, "I know why I came, but why were you all so gung-ho?"