maskormenacelogs | ( OPEN ) all the feelings that broke through that door

WHO: Lucy Steel & OPEN
WHERE: De Chima and Heropa, but you are welcome to yolo a prompt and find her wherever.
WHEN: The last week of September.
WHAT: Lucy does her civic duty, cleans the kitchen, takes notes, and almost drowns.
WARNINGS: None so far!

i. the yard is nothing but a fence ( de chima | posters )

[Honestly, half the time Lucy doesn't understand what goes on around here. She's standing at a bulletin board, hands on her hips and an I'm Not Mad, Just Disappointed look on her face as she regards . . . this poster. Where did it come from? What does it mean? Does it mean anything?]

[These are all important questions. On the other hand, Lucy doesn't really care about the answers enough to go looking for them. The main issue here is that this poster is ugly and weird and she hates it. Which is why she rips it off the bulletin board, crumples it into a ball, and tosses it neatly into the nearest garbage can.]

[Throughout the rest of the afternoon, she can be found taking down more posters across De Chima. If she has to, she'll go at them with her fingernails. That's how serious this is. She is an anti-weird-poster vigilante.]

ii. the sun just hurts my eyes somewhere ( de chima | #005 )

[More or less by force, Lucy has maneuvered her way into being in charge of cooking and cleaning in De Chima #005. This means that whenever she's home, she can be found aggressively bustling. Either she's in the kitchen with an apron on and her hair firmly secured in a handkerchief, or she's scrubbing something. Sometimes both.]

[This evening it's both. The smell of something roasting--chicken, maybe?--emanates from the kitchen, while she goes from window to window, scrubbing them clean one by one. Or at least trying to. The resident Venusaur is toddling after her, helpfully licking each window as soon as she finishes cleaning it.]

[She looks at him wearily.]

That isn't as helpful as you think it is.

iii. it must be time for penitence ( heropa | library )

[Thanks to some unlikely encouragement, Lucy has found herself a brand-new goal: to own and manage a business in one of the imPort cities by the one-year anniversary of her arrival. It's a lofty goal and almost definitely an impossible one, but that doesn't really matter to her. She's in a position of some power here, as precarious as it is, and she's never one to let that pass by.]

[So she spends many afternoons in the Heropa library, which is her favorite in all of the cities. Camped out at a table towards the back, she piles her table high with books on property ownership, business law, and economic reports from the last ten years. Most of them are stacked neatly, but there are always a couple open at any one time for her to refer to. The notebook in front of her fills up quickly, her cramped penmanship scrawling notes in shorthand.]

[There's one page in particular that she keeps flipping back to. It seems to be a brainstorming page. The list contains items like:]

- bakery
- bookstore ?
- practical skills classes ????
- ~~horseback riding~~ too expensive/maintain

iv. gardening at night, it's never worked ( heropa | beach )

[Lucy has spent much of the last month or so studiously ignoring her file. Oh, sure, she read it once on that very first day, but after that she slammed it shut and buried it in one of her drawers and tried to pretend it didn't exist. She doesn't want a "superpower". She already had one, and it was terrible, thanks so much.]

[Except this one doesn't seem any easier to ignore than Ticket to Ride. She stubbed her toe the other day, and her skin from toe to knee immediately turned gray as steel and just as tough. The other thing--that's happened a couple of times, too. But it's worse, and stranger, and she'll put dealing with that off for a little while yet.]

[For today, she's bitten the bullet and gone down to the beach to do some experimentation. It's late in the day; it's just rained, and there are still clouds drifting across the sky as the sun begins to set. Lucy sits under the pier on the sand, her dress billowing around her, and, with a look of utmost determination on her face . . . bangs a big flat rock down on her other hand.]

[Nothing much seems to be happening. Oh, sure, there's a flicker of protective gray, but it's not as strong as what happened the other day. It's just not working right. Glumly, she tosses the rock aside and examines her slightly-abraded hand.]

Well, now what?

[Sadly, her hand does not respond.]

v. the neighbors go to bed at 10 ( wildcard )

[Want to find Lucy in another city, or somewhere else in De Chima or Heropa? Go wild! Time and space are merely constructs, probably.]

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

[The freeloading jerk that's been in your house basically every day since you arrived is... well, here again, sitting on your couch and watching TV. Why is he even here?? He literally lives two doors down. Maybe he enjoys your cooking, and that's a compliment, isn't it? He has a big sister who ran the house back home, so he's probably just used to this kind of thing.]

Hey, he's trying. Maybe ask Blastoise, though.

[Crunch crunch, Blue tosses another couple kernels of popcorn into his face.] That smells good, whatcha making?

[It could be worse. At least he isn't turning anything into dinosaurs. Lucy's standards are genuinely so low, but the point is that she's wearily used to this.]

Wouldn't he break the window? [Blastoise, she means. Like: water cannons? No. No thanks.]

[Readjusting her kerchief, she gives Blue a suspicious look.] You say everything that's food smells good. It's cornbread and stew.

[Blue turns to look at her, then out the window at Blastoise, and shrugs.] Tell 'im to use something less powerful than Hydro Pump. A Water Gun or a Rain Dance even might do the trick!

[Creative use of Pokémon's moves was just a fact of living in their world; and Pokémon helping around the house was as common as helping around construction, police work, even in the kitchen. Speaking of, Blue hops up from the couch to come nose around in there, too.] Stew, huh. Bet Arcanine would like that.

[Of course he's thinking of it for the dog.]

[after working at a prison for so long pucci was beginning to realize there were more than a few luxuries he had missed. one of those luxuries was space, time, the ability to wander aimlessly when the mood struck him. he practically lived at GD Street, which was in the center of a swamp too dangerous to wander around usually, and wildly unpleasant to deal with even if you did happen to have a Stand to protect you. the area near his apartment was as near to work as it could be, so the neighborhood was boorish and less than ideal.

so yes, nice, long walks, who knew he'd miss them so much? as long as he was here he might as well indulge.

he had a lot of things on his mind, so it took him more than a few moments to notice things like the sky darkening, and more interestingly a girl just... what was she doing?

the minute he realized she was apparently trying to smash her own hand he took a reflexive step forward, maybe being around a bunch of rowdy prisoners made him ready to cut that kind of nonsense out but instead of a sickening crunch or howl of pain there was nothing. he was close enough now to catch what almost seemed like her sad tone at the lack of damage.

imPort? had to be.]

Usually the answer would be to not try and hurt yourself in such a way, but given your hand seems to be in one piece I'm assuming that was an experiment rather than a self destructive episode. [he slowed down, offering a peaceful priest smile. he's not a problem, no sir.] My apologies, I saw what you were doing and became concerned.

[She's not so lost in her own head that she doesn't hear the footsteps in the sand behind her. The trouble is more that she's just not focused on the direction they're going, and she's definitely not expecting whoever it is to speak up. She doesn't quite jump, but she tenses more than enough that it's noticeable.]

[Well. On the plus side, she doesn't have time to figure out a lie, does she. No need to stress about that. Hooray for The Truth. Glancing over her shoulder, she quirks a brow briefly at . . . a priest? That outfit says priest, but also something in another language that the 1890s did not prepare her for.]

I don't think pieces would have broken off regardless, not from blunt force trauma. I'd need something sharp.

[Wow, Lucy, what.]

Did I disturb your walk? I was trying to be unobtrusive.

[lucy. what. his brow raises at that, because well that was a weird response to smashing your hand, but he learned imPorts were a weird bunch. like stand users weren't worse.]

No, not at all. If anything my nosiness must be disturbing your evening, I hope you'll forgive me for it. Still, I must ask, are you alright?

[he glances to her hand a moment and takes the obvious guess] Perhaps an imPort testing a power?

Hey-- hey! Stop!

[here is a very tall, very lanky man jogging over to lucy, bending over to wheeze for a moment when he gets to her. jeez, breathing sure is weird!]

I want that one! Can I have it? [he points at the poster.] It looks like something one of my fans made!

You what?

[She's just. Totally baffled by this? What are you even saying here, stranger.]

Your friend made this? [That's the only interpretation of what he just said, because someone's fan would only make nice things, and this is just a mess.]

Probably!

[riptide is not good at making sense.]

I want it. I like it! Don't throw it out!

[W.....hat. Well, okay. Sure. Who is she to deny someone their shitty poster? With some suspicion, she hands it over.]

You really like it? I can't imagine why.

Edited 2017-10-13 17:56 (UTC)

It's art! How can you not see that?

[ tara is out in the rain, which isn’t abnormal. she likes walking around, especially when it’s a way for her to be alone; especially because now that her roommates are doing dumb things like caring about her, she’s much less likely to be left alone. it’s a little bit annoying to her, but, like. in a warm fuzzy way.

anyway.

she’s walking alone, watching the sand move in the wind on the beach, when she comes across a girl--sitting alone on the beach. not too weird, yet. she doesn’t pay her any mind, instead using her powers to manipulate the sand into little, crudely done pictures. a butterfly. a smiley face. a - holy shit, did that girl just hit herself with a rock?

relatable.

but also, a little weird. tara stares, with curious blue eyes. ]

Yo. Uh, you good?

( OPEN ) all the feelings that broke through that door

2 | he doesn't even go here!!

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iv!! what the heck girl

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i

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4 | FINALLY