The Universe's Mixer

Jeannie yawned and stretched before sitting up. That had been a very nice nap, and she felt very rested. Except for her back, which was a little bit sore. The couch in her bottle was very comfortable most of the time, but it was not the same as a feather bed. Still, she reflected as she gazed around at the curved pink and purple walls gilded with gold patterns, there was no place like her bottle. It was safe and secure and, most importantly, hers.

But now that she was well-rested, it was time to get up and do something with her day. Jeannie was not, and really never had been, a laze-about sort of genie. Oh there were some that did nothing but sit around eating candied dates and drinking sweet wine while they waited for their masters to utter the two words that were a command to every djinn: “I wish…” Jeannie, though, was a more proactive person. She did not simply want to wait to grant her master’s wishes. She wanted to anticipate them. And more, she wanted to make his life easier.

( Though that was sometimes harder that it sounded. )

Sir Guy of Gisborne had been out riding when the storm hit. It was a very powerful storm, soaking him and Rupert in seconds. He had just sighed and patted the horse’s neck. Guy had ridden through worse weather than this. All that rain did was convince him that this strange city was located in England. He never found another place that had as much rain as his country. He had heard some scholar at a party of Prince John’s try to explain why the island had more rain. It was a very boring lecture at an otherwise nice royal dinner.

( He had been happy )

Rose still wasn’t sure what exactly was going on. Some days, she thought maybe she was having early signs of dementia. Some days, she thought it was a dream. Whatever it was, it had turned her life upside down. Wherever she was, at least she still had her house, even if she didn’t have her roommates. Or her neighborhood. Or her job, because the counseling center and hospital were not the ones she remembered. On the days she could actually find them. She was starting to believe what the odd young man had said; maybe they moved. ( Which brought her back to the idea of losing some of her faculties. )

Guy of Gisborne was ready for a drink. It had been a very long… How long had all of this been going on? It felt as if almost every moment he had been in this strange place had been some sort of trial for him. Was he there to prove that he was more than just the Sheriff of Nottingham’s hired man? Was this a place for him to be the knight he had always meant to be? Or was this just to torture him by showing him what might have been before throwing him back under the shadow of Robin Hood and the sheriff.

( He would rather have a drink. )

Sir Guy had searched for quite some time before he actually found a rope. He was actually surprised when he went into a room and found what he had been searching for. He was pleased to know that he would be able to escape and get those girls out of this prison. It had been a long time since things had gone his way. Guy smirked; doubting that Hood could have planned a better escape.

He slipped the rope under his robe and started walking down the hall. He just needed to get back to the girls and hope they had come up with a good distraction. They would be out of here within the hour unless something stopped him. Something like the men that were walking towards him right now. Guy cursed softly and turned to walk in the other direction.

( Mr. Gisborne? )

Sarah Bailey was staring off in the distance, sitting on the ground with her arms hugging her legs. Her chin was resting on her knees, her back pressed against the wall in the inner courtyard. A rather childlike yet comfortable position as she watched the other patients, vaguely aware they were there. The drugs kept the witch’s mind and memory fuzzy to the point that Sarah thought she was still in Saint Francis Memorial Hospital. That was the name of the hospital her father had brought her after Sarah had slit her wrists back in San Francisco. Her mind had made the logical assumption she was still there.

Occasionally Sarah wondered about this as she didn’t remember there being quite so many people here before or that the hospital was so large. The dreams she had also troubled Sarah as well, dreams of girls who could fly, being able to change her appearance with a gesture, a troubled boy and lightening, always lightening. Sometimes she wondered if these dreams had been real but such thoughts usually went away after the nurses gave her the daily dosage of sedatives.

She was one of the quieter patients who never made a fuss, not even after she had first woken up in the hospital. Being in a psychiatric hospital had been too familiar for Sarah and though she had power, it was not in Sarah’s nature to lash out unprovoked. There had been no need to restrain the witch for long and the drugs she had been given had made it impossible for Sarah to concentrate long enough to use her powers. In fact, Sarah had forgotten all about her powers and believed it was part of the hallucinations she suffered. A strangely comforting belief for if the powers were a hallucination then Sarah had nothing to feel guilty about. She hadn't done anything wrong and the boy, Chris, he wasn’t real so she couldn’t have killed him.

As for why Sarah was sitting outside by herself, she was seeking some peace and quiet. The television in the common room had been too loud for her tastes and she liked being outside more than she liked being cooped up inside. It was comforting to feel the ground beneath her, to feel the air on her skin. She felt connected which Sarah knew was insane. How could she feel connected to the earth? The thought made her chuckle and Sarah muttered to herself, “Crazy new age bullshit”. Naturally that would be when Sarah realized someone was approaching, just as she was talking to herself like a nut job. “I’m not crazy”, she said to stranger as though she sensed the accusation coming. Too bad Sarah didn’t quite believe her own words.

Green. His leather clothes were green. He didn’t know how Hood had arranged for this, but he would make that scum pay for it. He was fairly certain Jeannie could turn everything back to it’s proper black, she was very good at things like that. He was about to go find her when something outside his window caught his eye.

Could it really be what he thought it was? Sir Guy of Gisborne quickly dressed in his green leather and went outside. He had heard the tales from Eire about these little men. Some kind of spirit called leprechauns. Before coming to this City, Guy would never have believed that they were real, but he was here with a genie as his housekeeper. He also remembered that the stories of these little spirits always mentioned gold.

Catch a leprechaun; win a pot full of gold.

Guy liked the thought of that. With enough gold, he could get away from the Sheriff once he got back to Nottingham. If he got back to Nottingham. But even away from home, gold would be a very good thing to have on hand. He went to his horse and frowned when he saw that not only was Rupert’s tack green, but he had shamrocks braided into his mane and tail. Guy growled as he stripped the greenery off of his steed. He would kill Hood for this.

Leaving Rupert happily munching on the shamrocks, Sir Guy took his sword and went out hunting leprechauns.

The day was crystal clear. Warm, even, considering what time of year it was. Kids were happily running around the park wearing their shorts and maybe a light sweater. Flowers had bloomed unseasonably. Bees and butterflies busied themselves while birds sang.

To top it all off, in a nice grassy area some picnic tables popped up. They were all covered in food and drink. A big banner unfurled across a nice space that could be seen from the road. It touted "Annual City Picnic" in bold black lettering.

Jeannie stood outside of the cabin that she was now calling home, a place she shared with her new master. She paced around the outside of the building several times, quietly muttering to herself as she tried to find the perfect spot for what she wanted to do. Finally, she chose the south side as there was a good deal more room there.

Standing with her feet planted, the djinn crossed her arms at chest height, one over the other. Then, concentrating and taking careful aim, she simultaneously blinked and nodded, her pony tail swinging forward to brush her cheek. Moments later, she was clapping her hands in delight at the results as she looked at the brand new stable. It may not match the cabin, or look much like a modern stable… in fact, it looked a great deal like those found in ancient Bagdad. It was exactly what Jeannie had intended to create.

( Now for the horse. )

Marian had been sluggish to get out of bed that morning, the coy call of such softness was too much temptation. She could see how this place would lure people to sleep all day. Of course that wouldn't do at all, so eventually she dragged herself out of bed and after a refreshing wash, she dressed. Not overly concerned with her hair she left it down rather that twisting it back to hide the short cut of her punishment.

A few minutes gave her time to eat and she setout to the street. She needed to find a better place to keep her horse than simply tethered in front of her home. Horses needed room to move and be horses. Much to her startled amazement there was no chestnut equine waiting for her outside, had her horse been vanished away like robin's cave? Marian hurried back in and threw the door open to Robin's dwelling, fearing the same had happened to him.

( Read more... )

Sir Guy of Gisborne was not in a good mood as he walked through the streets of The City. He kept shaking his right hand, pausing every few dozen steps to glare at it. He wished that either everything in this place was exactly the same as it was back in Nottingham or totally different. He hated that it was both ways.

What had set off his temper this time was a small, insignificant thing. He was starting to accept that the carriages here ran without horses and that lamps and torches produced light without flames. So why didn’t they have axes that chopped wood without giving you splinters? Guy had simply been chopping wood for the stove when he got a splinter from the axe in the palm of his hand. It really was just not fair. Just like in Nottingham, fate was out to get him.

Guy had thrown the axe and stormed back inside the cabin. Jeannie was out, so he could not ask her for help in removing the offending piece of wood. Which was probably for the best considering his mood, but he still needed help. He was so angry he barely remembered to strap on his sword before he left the cabin. Somewhere in this damnable City there had to be a physician capable enough to get the bloody splinter out of his hand.

He had almost calmed down enough to ignore the minor pain and head for home to wait for Jeannie when some idiot bumped into him. Hard. And, naturally, he had hit Guy’s hand, re-igniting the pain. Sir Guy cried out in anger and frustration. He finally resorted to using his teeth to try to grab the splinter and pull it out.

The look in the knight’s eye as he stood on the sidewalk, gnawing on his hand practically dared anyone else to run into him. Realizing his teeth weren’t doing any better than his fingernails had, Guy had just about had enough. Pulling a small, curved and extremely sharp knife from his belt, he prepared to cut the damn thing out of his hand once and for all.

The day was crisp and clear. Only a slight warm breeze made the leaves of the trees move, making the dappled light on the ground below shimmer and dance. Playing shadows over the faces of the playing children and the walking couples in the area.

The Valentine's day spirit had taken up residence in many, and was showing thusly in the store windows. Nobody had yet taken down their decorations. The sales for jewelry and candy went on, with the hope that more would be bought and lavished upon those who were loved and loving.

There was a man carrying balloons for sale. A woman carrying a basket of assorted flowers that never seemed to empty, no matter how many of her beautiful wares were bought. Another man pushing an ice cream cart, and a lady in a colorful outfit giving out free cotton candy and selling roasted nuts. There were performers of every sort. People on stilts, people juggling. A fire breather, yes, right in the middle of it all, carefully showing what she could do. A belly dancer dancing around in a circle, a sword swallower doing his thing in the middle of that circle. It was almost like a circus, this show for the lovers.

It seemed as if everything was greener. The sky bluer. The flowers more radiant and filled with scent. The water of the lake clearer, with paddle boats and row boats gliding over it's surface easily. The birds sang sweeter. All was perfect.

( ooc )

Sir Guy of Gisborne was doing what he did best; brooding. Everything around him was celebrating love and romance. That, of course, made him think of Marian. And how she had left him on their wedding day. Why could she not see that everything he did was to assure their future? A good future with the power and position that they both deserved.

He would never find a woman he loved as much as he loved Marian.

Guy leaned against the side of a building, watching people as they walked by. He thought they were a little too open with showing their affections for one another. But he was starting to learn that this was just another part of the strangeness of The City. He didn’t think he would ever get use to it. He knew he didn’t want to get use to it. He wanted to return to Nottingham.

He wanted Marian.

He felt a slight sting to the back of his shoulder. He brushed off his leather coat and looked back. Nothing was there that could have hurt him. It was probably just a large insect. He turned back to continue watching the people and then he saw her. She was so delicate and more beautiful than even Marian. Guy’s heart leapt as he watched her. She would be his.

He strolled up to the young lady and gave her his best smile. “Pardon me, milady. You should not walk through town unescorted. I am Sir Guy of Gisborne. Please allow me the honor of your company.” Guy bowed slightly as he introduced himself, offering her his arm.

Tiffany lamps were very lovely things. Jeannie had always thought so, ever since she’d had first seen one in the home of her former master darling’s friend, Dr. Bellows. Mrs. Bellows had been very proud of it, and Jeannie had understood why immediately. Someone had taken the idea of a stained-glass window and made it into a lamp that could be taken home. It was very clever.

But then, Jeannie had always had a fondness for lamps in general, she reflected as she looked at the beautiful Tiffany lamp in the display window before her. Lifting her fingers to the glass store front, she leaned a bit closer and wondered if that affinity had anything to do with so many of her kind being bound to lamps. Oh, not this sort of lamp, obviously. That was just silly. Where would a djinn reside in a modern lamp? The light bulb? That would be terribly bright, not to mention hot, and really, there was no way to open and close a bulb. Very silly indeed.

( So maybe she simply liked lamps because they were pretty. )

Sir Guy of Gisborne had gone out for a walk when the snow started. He wasn’t bothered by the cold weather; England often had cold, snowy days in the winter. He had wanted to get some fresh air while he tried to make sense of what had happened to him. This strange City was full of more things that were strange than things he knew. He was getting use to the strange way people dressed here, but the rest left him feeling … lost.

He had been so lost in thought; he didn’t notice how heavy the snowfall was getting. When he started having trouble walking, he decided he should look for shelter. Quickly. Guy had never seen snow fall this heavily before. He was starting to think he was going to be caught without shelter. Not something he wanted to happen.

But God was on Sir Guy’s side this day. He could see something through the snow. It looked like a building. As he slowly moved closer, he could see that it was indeed a small building. Possibly someone’s home. He went up to the cabin and knocked once before he pushed the door open.

“I am in need of shelter from the storm. Is anyone here?” He gripped the hilt of his sword, just in case anyone had some objection to offering him comfort. He glanced around quickly while he waited for a response. This had the look of the hunting lodge of a lesser nobleman. He pulled the door shut behind him and was ready to make himself at home.

You're in a funhouse maze, but it's no ordinary funhouse maze. The mighty minotaur is stalking you through it, and you have to get to the center of the maze to save the virgins and get back out before it reaches you.

Sir Guy of Gisborne was walking through the mostly deserted streets, trying to get a better feel for this strange City he was trapped in. The people dressed so strangely, especially the women. Their outfits were almost all unfit to be seen in polite company and yet no one else seemed to be offended by their attire. This was all very, very confusing to the 12th Century knight.

Guy was beginning to think he might not be anywhere near England anymore.

Wherever he was, Gisborne needed to find a way to get the advantage over his rival, Robin Hood. And part of that advantage meant he needed to have his sword sharpened. Perhaps he should even acquire a second weapon. But to accomplish both of those tasks, he needed to find the town blacksmith.

( The streets were deserted )

Halloween.  Tony Stark's favorite time of the year.  The weather was perfect, not too hot or cold, trees around the city were changing colors.  And he had no reason in the world to complain here.  He and Pepper were together, and it'd been a blissful few weeks since their initial union.  For the first time in years, Tony could say he was happy and satisfied.

He'd sent out invitations city wide in hopes of drawing in the citizens to his home for him to have a chance to meet them.  He hadn't ventured out much since he'd been here, mostly because even if he was ever the social butterfly, Tony was too focused on fixing the once damaged relationship between him and Pepper.  Now that was all taken care of and here he stood in his bedroom putting on his costume.  He'd laid his choice of cstume out on Pepper's bed for her to put on, chosen since she'd lost to him in a little game they'd played to determine what they'd spend this night as.  It was custom tailored to fit her form perfectly, having taken the dress she'd worn for their first night together and used its measurements.

He stared at himself in the mirror, thinking that his goatee would make wearing the mask a little awkward at best, but he didn't care.  He thought since he should play the mysterious host of the night, that he should don the look of someone just as mysterious.  Taking a step back from the mirror, he attempted to twirl the cape, almost tangling himself up in it the first few times until he got the hang of it and smiled.  Affixing his mask to his face, he smirked as he gave his appearance one last once over.

The Phantom of the Opera was ready for his grand entrance.

[ooc: If you're character is showing up, feel free to start your own thread under this.  Tony will attempt to greet everyone but might not for getting sidetracked by others.  If you plan to crash the party, I will start a separate thread after a day or two to give people a chance to do regular party stuff.  Have fun, and don't be shy with your characters!  This is a very social log!]

Jeannie had been thoroughly disappointed by her visit to the Magic Box. The Willow Witch was not there and the lady to whom she spoke did not know where she had gone or when she would be back. Nor had she, herself, heard of Spike. That was very depressing for the djinn, as she was quite fond of him. He was so very sweet.

Standing on the street corner after leaving the shop, she chewed her lower lip and watched the street light for a few minutes, hoping that her master would give her a sign. But the City was somewhat silent, telling her only that she could now walk. So that was what she did, crossing the street, but once on the opposite side, she paused again.

Looking down, she unsnapped her purse and looked inside. There really was no other recourse. She had no one else to talk to. She knew only a handful of people in this place, and one of them was currently missing. Besides, now that the rude leprechaun was in a size more appropriate to his actual importance, he was far less irritating. And he might possibly be beginning to grow on her. Who knew. Someday, she might feel bad enough for turning him into a Chihuahua that she would return him to his previous form. Not any time soon, but someday. Perhaps.

“I do not know what else to do,” she confessed to him. “I have looked everywhere I know to look, and I cannot blink to where he is. I have tried that. Nothing happens. I find that very worrying, do you not? That my blink does not work in locating my friend? I do not think that should happen. What if something has happened to him? Oh dear.”

Jeannie sighed and looked up, glancing around as though Spike might suddenly appear, simply because she had been speaking of him. But he did not, and she could only repeat, “Oh dear.”

Jack didn't like waiting. He liked things to happen immediately, whether they were for him or for someone else. Especially if it was something amusing to happen to someone else, then Jack would be able to have instant gratification in his desire to laugh at whomever the amusing thing happened to.

Gratification. He giggled a little just thinking of the word.

As it stood, Jack was waiting, though he wasn't quite sure what it was he was waiting for. Just something told him he should wait, at this particular corner, at this particular time. It was a gut instinct, rather like when his inner gaydar told him if someone was of his persuasion enough to be pursued. It didn't feel like that though, it was just one of those feelings. Like when he used to barge into Will's apartment just because he knew if he did he'd probably see Grace shoveling something high in fat into her face all at once like some underfed hamster.

Then again, that could probably have been attributed more to the likelihood of finding Grace eating period, which was nearly 100%. The woman was always stuffing her face.

It was rather like waiting for a bus, except without any specific destination in mind. Just knowing that there was somewhere to go. This made it even more frustrating for Jack, who kept checking his watch and tapping is foot.

Maybe he should just go home.