shatterverse | Entries tagged with hibym a jona

jonadarkhair.livejournal.com

It's past midnight, and Jona can't sleep.

It's not the first time.

But, you know, she doesn't mind being awake. Being awake means she doesn't have to dream, and her dreams still leave her shaking and scared and more tired than she was before. (Nobody heals from a death sentence at Highgate Prison just like that. Nobody heals, just like that, from feeling the noose around their throat.) (But she hasn't told anyone. Telling people, she reasons, would upset them. She's one of those annoyingly stoic people who'll pretend not to be ill until they drop dead of it.)

She still loves the sting of the night air on her cheeks (if you look closely, they're tracked with water) and the endless expanse of fields and sky around her reminding her that she's free. So she's wandered, and wandered, until she's reached a faraway field, and the farmhouse is reduced to a black silhouette on a black expanse, discernable only by the way it hides the stars.

jonadarkhair.livejournal.com

You know that noticeboard floating somewhere around the Cooper farm? It's got a brand new message pinned to it, written in a hand that's determined if not exactly skilled. The narration will spare you its spelling mistakes.

ACTORS
SINGERS
DANCERS
MUSICIANS
PERFORMERS ALL & SUNDRY

There's Going To Be A PERFORMANCE
Date To Be Set
IT NEEDS YOU TO PERFORM
Meet atop the Bunker this Afternoon or speak to Hibym a Jona about it
If You Always Wanted to Perform, Now Is Your Chance

(Please List Your Name Below)

[ooc: hay lookie here]

eureka-bell.livejournal.com

Stephen Bell has taken over much of the Cooper living room, and is buried in blueprints and choice pieces of salvage metal which are starting to take the shape of complicated switchboards and ridiculously powerful engines. Tremble in your robot boots, Jetstorm, because Vader II is rising Frankenstein's monster-like from the wreckage.

Gabriel Gray is outside again, reading again, under a tree again. Got to make the most of the weather now it's warming up for spring.

Intuition is ~~necking in the tall grass~~ continuing in her quest to explore the farm and its various residents.

Hibym a Jona is, shockingly, in the kitchen; today she is exploring the possibilities offered by that delicacy known as Welsh Rarebit In Huge Quantities.

Bayami is floating about in the stratosphere, waiting for the weather to change.

And a strange and unusual and really quite hungry-looking plant has found its way down to the kraken pond, where it sits in its pot and ponders the water. If it was (a) sentient and (b) on a strict diet of human bits (both of which suggestions are of course ridiculous), one might almost think that it's looking for a kindred spirit. Alas, it has not discovered ham.

The mun asks only that you mention who you're tagging. Have at!

letyousaveme.livejournal.com

Well.

Gray has managed to arrive at the Cooper place, and after parking his stolen Dodge Viper beside the white Mini Cooper ~~(ahaha the narration just got that)~~, takes the scenic route back around to the front of the house.

He likes walking.

bakers-boy.livejournal.com

Toby slept most of the way from wherever it was Mr Venom picked him up until they reached the farm, and even then, he was still pretty groggy. The washroom was pointed out to him (and what a wonder that is, all shining and clean and good clean hot water right there without having to pump it or heat it on the fire or anything), and Toby did manage to scrub the mud off his face and shuck the outermost, muddiest layers of his clothes.

The kitchen seems like the best place for him, but when he finds it, he decides that it, like the washroom, is too posh for him to use much unless he has to or he's told to. Besides, there's not a proper fire going anywhere in the kitchen, and if there's one thing Toby really wants to find, it's someplace warm. A lot has happened lately-- too much to really, really take in, even-- and if he could just find somewhere warm and easy to sit for a while, to think things through... well, it can't hurt and might help.

He figures, though, that nobody's going to miss just one apple from the bowl, not if what Mr Venom told him about how many people live here is true.

If someone should wander in to tell the lad otherwise, he'll be most appropriately shamefaced-- especially since he's already taken a great big bite out of it.

((The usual note about spoilers applies-- let me know whether you want them or not or don't care.))

doineann.livejournal.com

[ooc: Let's pretend that this post is set in the morning timeframe. It's open to reaction tags, but Doin won't be tagging back -- exams have drained me. He'll be around later this week to be all :D! SNOW! at ya'll. Thanks!]

Doin, after his conversation with a certain woman, decided that Kansas was entirely too warm.

Last night, the temperature dropped.

Not long after, snowflakes began falling, and now, well...

Now, there's something around four inches of fluffy whiteness on the ground and everything else.

He suspects that shovels are going to be needed.

diseasedvermin.livejournal.com

Tom is in the Cooper house. In the kitchen during the afternoon, to be precise. Sucking down a beer while leaning on a counter reading the instructions for Scrabble, to be even more precise.

Apparently Scrabble + beer = confusion.

Come help him out?

feelingflavours.livejournal.com

There's a woman hanging around the Coopers' living room.

Yes, she looks like that.

Yes, she's dressed like that.

What? This is a good place to pick up boys! (Inanna discovered that yesterday.)

jonadarkhair.livejournal.com

Food, to the hungry nose, has a kind of universal siren call. Which is why the kitchen has suddenly sprouted a skinny barefoot* girl in a tatty shift, who's rooting through the drawers and cupboards with a singlemindedness that's slightly tempered by the need to go omgwtf at everything. Here's some weird spiky plant thing! And here's an entire pot of spices! And here's a big metal box with knobs on that seems to serve no useful purpose!

Just wait till she discovers the fridge.

*Two words: monkey feet.

dragonreturned.livejournal.com

A massive Flying Bison settles onto the lawn in front of the farmhouse and two passengers, who had no idea where they were, sat on its back still clutching its fur tightly. "Well," Iroh says jovially, "It seems we've arrived."

Jona's eyes were wide, "There's a boat. On the land. Now I know that this the fairy world."

Iroh chuckles, "It is very odd, I'll admit." He slid down the side of the Bison to land hard on the ground. "Shall we look around?"

jonadarkhair.livejournal.com

They scrub her up, dress her all nice in dirty grey, tie her hands behind her back and lead her blind out of her cell with the black hood knotted closed at the front. She can't breathe in the smoky street air, can't hear over the press of boos and cheers and chatter that erupts on her ears.

This is it. She's going to die.

The hangman's hands are surprisingly gentle -- but then they have to be, don't they? The crowd needs to be told who's the hero and the villain of the scene -- it's just like a play, she realises, just the endlessly-retold fable of the Bad Little Thief who was Brought To Justice. She's blithely accepted it hundreds of times as part of the gleeful crowd.

This is it. This is it. She's going to die, and they're going to mince her body so she can't come back, and--

--there's a split second's nothing as the hangman pulls the trapdoor lever, clunk, and--

--SHE SCREAMS as the wood beneath her feet vanishes, crack, and--

--hits grass, crumples, struggles, falls, screams again, is she dead?, screams again.

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Entries tagged with hibym a jona

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