(no subject)

[sworntoalostgod.livejournal.com]

[OOS: Oliver gets cranky when he’s tired.]

Oliver has been doing a lot of walking. He's been talking to a lot of neighbours, and during those conversations he mentioned his abilities. Not everybody believed him, and not everybody wanted to take him up on his offer...but a few did. He's been patrolling their fields to increase their fertility. The land here is good - like a warm cup of tea on a cold day, like fine wine after a heavy meal.

He's patrolling around the Cooper house right now, for a much different reason. One step methodically in front of the other. He whispers words underneath his breath, gaze distant.

Once he finishes, he goes over to the earth bunker to set up some more Wards. Judging from his leisurely pace (which is not entirely due to the limp in his right leg), he could be interrupted.

(no subject)

[eureka-bell.livejournal.com]

...yeah, it just occurred to Stephen that he counts as a flier. You know, seeing as he owns an antigravitational device and is reaching the final leg of jet construction.

Go team him?

Anyway, he's now having a look around for Nathan Petrelli (the real one, please and thanks), for whom he also has some news on the making-holes-in-reality front. Not terribly exciting news, but a plan, at least. (He's also keeping an eye out for Thrust, for the purposes of getting blueprints. Yes, he's building a fighter jet and a kind of cross-reality teleport and a bit of alien robot tech in the same lifetime. It's possible that he's overbooked himself.) Plus: he's totally botherable by anyone with a hankering to chat.

Catch him anywhere, twirling a well-used spanner between his fingers and humming to himself as he walks.

[ooc: slowtimes will be the order of the day, I am afraid.]

(no subject)

[aidoneus-rex.livejournal.com]

In Metropolis, there is a man in a dark suit. He's of a sort of non-descript middle age, not specifically young but nowhere near old.

As for what he's doing?

He's looking around. Learning. Absorbing local color. Picking up the lingo (which isn't as hard as it should be) and the customs. Occasionally having a meal somewhere and libating to that ever so beneficent monarch of the dead, Hades, just so he can explain the custom to curious onlookers. Carefully working minor miracles wherever it'll do the most good-- and once again, advertizing for the once and future Lord of the Underworld. Looking at maps, trying to figure out where he can start an underworld on this continent.

It's not his world. There's a lot to learn.

Good thing he got the brains in the family.

(no subject)

[2oldforthisspit.livejournal.com]

Nhim certainly hopes that this is the right farm. She's visited several on her way here with no luck, and the deer she carries in her maw is starting to taste a bit off. The dragon lands in an ungainly fashion at the Cooper farm, dropping her catch with a thud and peering into the house's upper story window. "Hello?" she calls, experimentally, then mutters to herself, "I hope no one has those damned sticks again, if this isn't the right farm..."