The Field

Who: Coop and Adnan
When: late afternoon
Where: the path between camp and the spring
What: Getting to know one another better
Rating: G!

Adnan had helped with the cleanup efforts once the storm had given them some mercy, re-setting lean-tos and picking up scattered supplies from everywhere. He supposed they were lucky they hadn't had an all-out stampede of grazers. The entire time, his eyes wandered, looking for the vision in the red dress. Coop. He'd catch sight of her every now and then, but was determined not to hover right away. Not to mention the fact that it was sort of ridiculous that he was looking for her anyway, he'd only pulled her away from the hail a handful of hours ago, and there was work to do.

It only worked for so long. Once things started to wind down and people felt that they'd put the camp back together enough, he was left with not much to do. The fire was being stubborn about lighting, and he had the feeling it was going to be a cold night. He told himself that he should sit for a while, play some guitar, but he didn't do either. Instead he started walking around the area around camp, looking for that red dress. He was attempting to think of a reason for doing so, to give if she asked, but wasn't coming up with much more than the truth. He wanted to check on her.

Coop was in a strange place, and not just physically. There was no doubting this place was not like anywhere she'd ever been. Not after she'd seen the pesks, and the grazers and the tiny little monkeys that lived in the rocks. She'd spent a good portion of the early afternoon sitting and staring at a spot in the rocks where such a little thing had disappeared. The bowl of water she'd been sent to fetch pretty much forgotten in her lap. She might have numbly sat there all day if it hadn't been for the singing.

( I Usually Set Up Over There )

Who: Aaron, Open to one more! (Posting Order: Cross, Angelica, Aaron)
Where: The beach in front of camp
When: Early Afternoon
What: Archery lessons to anyone who wants them.

Arlo was no teacher, that was plain to see. He was downright unpleasant to be around for more than thirty seconds. That is, unless you were a young girl. Aaron had butted heads with him a time or two but one thing they did both agree on was that Aaron was the more experienced archer. Arlo had thusly given him four of the composite bows he'd made and a thick bundle of arrows.

After speaking with Bazzer about the state of their skins, furs and needs in that respect, he'd come back to camp with a bit of determination. He was going to get the hang of these hand made bows and arrows. He was going to learn to hunt with them. So he'd bundled up some of the fallen thatching scattered around camp and tied them all into a thick bale that he could use as the target. There was nothing like paint to put a bullseye on it so they'd just have to eyeball it. After setting it on a boulder on the beach, he paced away from the target and set the bows down, sticking the arrows point down into the sand.

It was still drizzling from time to time but for now the wind was down, which helped. Trying to calculate the angles when accounting for wind was never the easiest thing. It took practice and time, and when your tools were not exact from arrow to arrow, that made it even harder. Before long, he felt he'd drawn a bit of an intermittent crowd. Stopping to wipe a bit of sweat off of his brow, he turned to look at the watchers. "Anyone want to learn?" he asked, "I can probably teach you."

Who: Aaron and Bazzer
Where: The tannery
What: Surveying the damage from the storm and cleaning up
When: Mid-morning

( Brains. Need braaaaains )

Who: Nefertiti and Ryan
When: early evening
Where: Under the careful watch of a rock
Progress: Completed
Rating:PG for minor cursing

The storm left Nefertiti on edge and generally miserable. Damned if the goat got sick with pneumonia or chill or anything else that might be lurking out here. She had waited out under the brush clutched tight to the baying creature. Also be damned if it decided to run off in fear. Now in the dusk she sat cross-legged under a particularly large rock with her quilt up to dry on the edge above her. It still irked her that the last sugar cube had melted in her pocket. She thanked God that she had never been the prissy sort. This would of been a living hell. Living outside always got dirt so deep into your skin that not even the strongest scrubbing could get rid of it.

( Read more... )

Who: Helena and Ryan
Where: At the camp
What: Talking about plans
When: In the early afternoon drizzle.

Helena carefully picked her way through the debris of the camp. One of the lean-tos hadn't stood up to the onslaught and it lay in a sodden heap off to the side of the soggy firepit. She expected a rebuilding effort would start up again once they got the fire going again. That was the priority. Today, though, Helena had a bit of a priority of her own. "Ryan," she said as she crouched down next to the young man. "I have half a milk melon if you want it." There would be no roasted meat or seafood soup today. Not until they got the fire going. "I have some stuff I want to talk to you about, too." It felt like it had been days since she'd spent any time with Ryan. She wondered how he was adjusting to the island.

( an even trade )

Who: Helena and Jasper
Where: Around and About
When: Mid morning
What: Just talking
Rating: G

( Believe It )

Who: Helena and Cross, plus Olivia and Meredith (NPCs)
When: Just before dawn
Where: Their lean-to
What: Experiencing the storm

( lightning, hail & tornadoes )

Who: Aaron, Adnan, Coop and Delilah
Where: Camp
When: Just after dawn
What: Fleeing for their lives
Rating: G

Aaron was not sleeping. Of course not. The carts were not exactly water tight and there were no walls protecting himself and his squirming, hissing sleeping bag from getting soaked by the occassional gust of wind. Even the sound of the rain pelting the bed of the cart was loud enough to keep him blinking with gritty eyes. Hood up, jacket zipped, he was still cold and wet. The water was starting to run over the ground, seeking a way back to the body of water it had likely sprung from. Lightening flashed and thunder rolled but after a while he was sure that dawn that broken. It was just hard to tell under the shroud of the storm. The rain seemed to abate for a while and it was hard to miss the fact that Ken had escorted a new arrival into camp. She was clad in a bright red dress that seemed pristine and out of place here. He was sure the dress was probably billowy on a good day but today it was soaked and she was holding the strapless thing up with hands across her chest. The most amazing thing was that a soaked and scruffy looking brown dog seemed to be huffing and snuffling through the camp as well. He poked his head into every lean-to and it made Aaron inch a little closer to his sleeping bag. Rumor had it that cats and dogs didn't mix well.

The first place Delilah had run was the trees. She'd been sleeping, minding her own damn business under Quinn's old blanket -- something nobody had begrudged her, which she was grateful for -- and all of the sudden she was soaked and sputtering. She'd gotten up and dashed for cover somewhere, getting down to belly-crawl into the brush. It had worked for a little while, keeping her from getting pelted for the most part, though there was no way to stay dry. And it was cold. She was going to be sick again by morning if she didn't find some way to conserve body heat. But then the hail had started, and the brush wasn't doing much good at keeping that off of her. She sat up, arms over her head, and looked desperately around. There was someone under one of the carts, and she made a mad dash for it, scrambling underneath in the mud, just to have something solid over her head.

Coop was just stunned. When the very nice colonel lead her in to camp, she'd somehow expected military barracks. Tents, chairs, crates. Exactly what you usually see in the movies. She'd expected shiny faced, buttoned up young men barking commands and responses to one another or perhaps a bunch of lazy veterans oiling their guns in tipped-back folding chairs. Nothing like that presented itself. At it's absolute roughest, it was a survivalist camp. A go-into-the-bush-and-carve-out-an-existence type of place.

( Rush For Cover )

Who: Coop and Tripper and Open
When: Home and Here, bedtime and wake up time.
What: An arrival
Where: New Mexico and Grazer Island

Daylight was just starting to break on the dusty horizon as Coop steered Betty off of the interstate and in to an awfully nice looking state of the art truck stop not too far out of the city limits of Roswell. It boasted showers, rooms, a pool hall and a diner, she noticed as she cruised on through at a leisurely and cautious pace. There were people about and her heavy load in the trailer wouldn't allow for any quick stops.

On the passenger seat, Tripper stuffed his head out of the half-lowered window, drooling a little bit down the glass as his tongue lolled. Ever the showman, he barked a couple of greetings to some burly men hanging about out in front of the pool hall. No less than one of them raised their meaty hands and hollared a greeting right back. She thought she heard her name, Coop, on the wind from their direction. It happened more and more. The longer she took these long hauls the more she made what she called 'road friends'. Sure, she got ribbed for being a girl and pint-sized to boot but there were plenty of Ol' Gals to back her up if anyone got too mouthy on the subject. People rarely did though, she took most things in stride and Coop genuinely liked people. She tried to get along with all of her fellow road warriors.

Steering in to a well-lit parking spot near the gas bar, she noted that she was sitting heavier than most the other trailers here tonight. For a moment she had a qualm. Maybe she should move on, radio to find a secure yard where her load might be safer. Her eyes were burning, though, and she knew her needs well enough to know she needed to park it for a few hours at least. She was only about fifteen minutes shy of her eight hours on and lible to get fined if she pushed on. Nope, this would have to do but she knew she was sleeping with her load for the day and not in once of those spacious rooms.

( Here I Am - On The Road Again )

The expected storm does not break until just before dawn. Overnight, the temperature has dropped nearly thirty degrees to 4C (40F), heralding intense weather. It begins with torrential rains that send anyone who does not have a lean-to to sleep beneath diving for cover, whether into one of the completed lean-tos or into the trees and brush that circle two sides of the camp. As light dawns in the sky, it is pushed back by dark clouds, high winds and quarter-sized hail, and the air is filled with the panicked sounds of grazers lowing and running in circles and crashing through the brush to try to escape this torment. The fire has been extinguished by the downpour, which means that the creatures blunder through camp, as well.

As the storm front moves over the camp and then out over the grasslands and the heavy rain and hail end, a small group consisting of Clay, Payne, Jeannie and Milo takes advantage of the confusion to head North, where they will cross the lake in the light drizzle that remains of the storm and strike out on their own.

Out over the grasslands, the ominous path of the storm can be clearly seen: not one but two separate tornadoes can be glimpsed as the morning wears on, sweeping up everything in their path: trees, boulders, grazers. They are a terrifying sight, but fortunately they are headed away from the island, and eventually, as midday approaches, the rain completely stops and the winds recede. The sun emerges and the temperature stabilizes at a high of 13C (55F), although camp is still a sodden mess, and the fire needs to be re-lit... if anyone can find any dry wood.