OPEN LOG

[burnseternal]

WHO: Saint Walker and YOU!
WHERE: Across the Porter cities! I'm flexible.
WHEN: Throughout September.
WHAT: Saint Walker carries through his meditation lessons, flies around, is his general hippie self.
WARNINGS: None anticipated! If none of these prompts work for you please just PM me or PP me on plurk @ wisdombitch and I'd be more than happy to write up a custom starter for you in the comments! <3



[ a ; meditation! ]

[Perhaps your character knows Saint Walker, or has heard of him? If so, they will be able to hear that he offers meditation lessons without charge, and will therefore be able to meet him at the park for the specific reason of receiving a good dose of meditation and therapy.

If your character does not know Saint Walker, however, they're just as liable to run into him levitating in the park, legs crossed and hands resting gently on his knees as he breathes in and out, taking in the world around him. If you so much as stop in front of him to stare, he will speak without even opening his eyes:] Good afternoon, my friend. It is a lovely one, is it not? The air always smells so fresh as the seasons change.

[ b ; flight! ]

[As much as Saint Walker has settled down to his domestic life, that doesn't mean that he won't still hone his powers, and hone them often. It's easy to see him flying through the city sometimes, a bright blue glue emanating off of him as he soars above, looking at all that is occurring below. That may be enough to get one's attention, or to at least spur a few questions, but if that's not quite enough, that's no trial either; you may see him fly down towards the street with great urgency, as if to break up one of the all-too-common muggings that can be seen upon the Porter cities.

Except there's no such things. Instead, he stands before a man with his hands outstretched, asking for change. As low as his voice may be, he speaks audibly and clearly.]

There is a better place for you than here, brother. If you do not mind following me, I know of a place that will offer you food and shelter for the night. Brighter things are in your future, I just know it.

[Perhaps your character is interested in volunteering alongside Saint Walker, or perhaps they think that he's simply luring people off the street for his own devious reasons; whatever the case, there's certainly nothing subtle about him!]

[ c ; farmer's market ]

[Do you have a favourite park to play soccer in, or to visit for a quiet moment, or to exercise in? Too bad! Today, it's been overtaken by the local farmer's market. Why don't you come in for a visit? There's plenty to eat, and more to buy, with food trucks and fresh produce aplenty.

And in the midst of it is Saint Walker, milling about the booths with a cloth bag at his side as he carefully plucks what he wants from the stalls. You may notice that he seems to be buying fruits and vegetables that are... well. They look like they've seen better days.

Conversationally, he says,] The produce deemed ugly seems to always be overlooked, and horribly wasted. [He smiles, continuing to load his bag with more vegetables.] That leaves more for me, I suppose. I assure you, they'll make for quite a tasty soup.

[ c ; wildcard!]

[Have something else in mind? Leave a prompt here, or contact me and I can write one for you!]

Comments

c, the doctor & saint walker & clara, heropa 11

[helpline]

[ The Doctor's the one who's gotten this whole get-together...well, together. Heropa 11 was the best place to do this, as two of the three lived there, and he could easily shoo out Kirk and Hazel if needed. So, two aliens and a human (or two almost immortals and a mortal) sit at the table. The Doctor's obviously got to be the one to make the introductions, so he smiles as he looks between Clara and Saint Walker. ]

Clara, Saint Walker! Saint Walker, meet Clara. She's the reason why I had that cunning ruse about the census for healers.

[ it was not a cunning ruse. ]

[burnseternal]

...yes, your cunning ruse.

[He's not going to argue with the Doctor on that front. Not now, anyway, though he rather thinks that the Doctor could use a lesson or two on subtlety, and coming from him, that's a damning judgment indeed. When he walks in, he's prepared, blue ring on his finger and clad in his Blue Lantern uniform, little more than a skin-tight, aerodynamic uniform in blue and black, his symbol - and the symbol of all Blue Lanterns - emblazoned upon the front of it.]

We have met, actually, however briefly. We spoke of you, in fact. Nothing bad, I assure you. Nevertheless, it is good to see you again, Clara, although I suspect the reason behind our meeting is not a merry one.

[ohshutup]

A pleasure to see you, as well.

[She's got a pleasant smile on her face, masking a hell of a lot of nerves. Clara Oswald may be brave, but she's also never had a gunshot wound magically healed by an alien. What if it goes wrong? What if she's stuck with a hole in her arm forever?]

Sorry about the attempt at secrecy. I've just got a bit of a complicated condition, and I didn't want it getting to the wrong people [She slides her blazer off of her shoulders, revealing a bandage wrapped around one bare arm.] I got shot a few weeks ago, and it turns out I don't heal. Doctor?

[Will you explain Time Lord tech to the magical alien?, she means. She's explained it to enough people this month already.]

[helpline]

[ Okay, have the Doctor explain things. He can do this. ]

Clara's technically frozen in time. What that means is that, thanks to Time Lord technology, she's plucked from her timeline, held in stasis in between heartbeats. It's supposed to be short term: Time Lords yoink someone out to ask them questions, return them home to their proper timeline. Obviously the Porter throws a wrench in the equation.

[ The Porter and the Doctor. After all, he's the one who plucked Clara from her timeline to begin with back home and he's the reason why she's currently running around the universe in one not-aging not-bleeding piece. BUT WE'RE NOT GONNA TELL SAINT WALKER THAT, ARE WE. ]

So, if she gets shot, she doesn't bleed or die, but she also doesn't heal.

[burnseternal]

I see.

[He tilts his head, considering the information. He doesn't look particularly startled by this nugget of information, simply thoughtful in the same way as one would look while carefully teasing apart a riddle. He knows of practical healing and magical healing alike, and while practical healing won't be of any use for this sort of thing, he can't think of why his ring won't be of use to them.]

That is quite a quandary indeed. I hope that you are able to find a way to resolve that in the future, but for the time being... [He inclines his head towards her, hands pushed together, fingers ramrod straight.] I am at your service. Ring, ah... if you could please tell me the nature of this injury?

[The ring talks because... well, it's a magical ring. Of course it talks. It doesn't say much out of the ordinary, merely rattles off the nature of Clara's injury, the circumference, the muscle punctured, and the severity. Saint Walker nods.]

We'll go full power on this one, I think. [He holds his hand up, the blue ring upon his finger already beginning to glow.] This oughtn't hurt, but you will feel warmth, and a tingling sensation, much like your blood circulation being cut off momentarily from a limb. Are you ready?

b

[stealwithit]

[ Huh. There are a lot of bright, glowing things in the nighttime scenery of Maurtia Falls; given what sorts of debauchery takes place in the criminal underbelly of the city, it only seems sensible that some of it should bleed into the nightlife of the town. Which is to say, yes, there are a lot of obnoxious neon lights, and some are even blue, but none of them usually fly around in the air, as Kasumi notices tonight. She is, of course, watching the goings-on of the streets from a rooftop, half looking out for trouble and half people-watching, because what else would she be doing.

When the blue glow suddenly dips down toward said streets, Kasumi prepares herself to act--in what capacity, she's not sure, but she's ready. When she realizes the blue glow is none other than Saint Walker being an actual saint and helping out a beggar, that preparedness becomes something more like curious excitement as she quietly teleports from the shadows on the roof to those of the nearest alley. And as Walker converses with the man--Jerry, she's pretty sure his name is, as she shows up here a lot--she seems to appear out of nowhere behind the tall alien. ]

Hello, Walker. Fancy meeting you here.

[burnseternal]

Oh -- do excuse me, brother, [he tells Jerry as Kasumi approaches, inclining his head towards the man as if in apology. He hasn't quite succeeded in convincing the man to seek out shelter and assistance underneath a friendlier roof, but he's nothing if not persistent, though speaking to Kasumi takes priority, for now.

He turns to greet her, inclining his head as he does so, hands tucked neatly behind his back and posture straight and tall. He sticks out here in Maurtia Falls, even moreso than in most cities, and not only because of his alien nature. It's the fact that he remains proud and confident even in the dingiest of allies, as if this world is his own, and not a place that he's simply visiting, as if he is able to claim ownership simply by walking across this land.

He has never had a confidence problem.]

Hello, Kasumi! It is good to see you. I suppose it may be rare to see imPorts outside of their home cities, but traveling is simple enough that I am able to visit any of our fair cities at will. I gathered that my assistance could be used in Maurtia Falls, this evening.

[stealwithit]

Do you come here often?

[ That is a weird line to use on Saint Walker, even as innocently as Kasumi said it. ]

I spend a lot of time here, [ she lives here ] so I'm a little surprised we haven't run into each other like this yet. It's good to see you, too.

[ She even gives Jerry a little wave. ]

[burnseternal]

Often enough, yes. There is need for my assistance everywhere, but this city, it seems, is in need of it the most. Traveling is very simple for me, so it is nothing to simply move where I am needed. But while I am here, I am most commonly on the move, so it makes sense that we have not run into each other prior to now!

[Kasumi can probably gather what Saint Walker means by needed, and why she wouldn't have seen him before. Saint Walker is used to little sleep and hard work. It's not an imposition for him to spend his days and nights lingering in shelters, preparing food alongside women with tired faces and kind eyes, hair swept up into frayed nets, carrying loads of laundry back and forth and across town, flying to the hospital with a laundry list of medication needed, sitting quietly alongside the young who look old and listening quietly and carefully to the stories they have to tell.]

You reside here, do you not?

[It only makes sense. To spend a lot of time in a single place is, likely, to live there.]

a !!!

[pyrogue]

[ Mick waves as he approaches Walker, grinning. He feels like he needs a little bit of meditation in his life right now. And who better to meditate with than his favourite alien? ]

Personally, I'm not looking forward to winter.

[burnseternal]

[When Saint Walker hears Mick's voice, he opens his eyes with a broad smile. One of his favourite people! It's always a pleasure to see him, even when it's not expected.]

Not a fan of the cool weather, I take it?

[pyrogue]

What can I say, I like things warm.

[ By now Mick's reached him, and watches him levitate with a raised eyebrow, hands in his pockets. Mick's a little bit overdressed for the weather, but has managed to refrain from wearing gloves. So pockets are his best friend. ]

The floating thing's a neat trick.

[burnseternal]

[Saint Walker looks down at the ground beneath him, then back up with Mick with a little laugh.] I am not quite sure I would call it a trick, in truth! Instead, I think, a way to better hone one's focus -- though there is something to be said for remaining grounded while meditating as well.

[It's important to remember where he's from, but then again, what are his powers for if not for continuing to center himself, continuing to remain in touch with his own spirit as it is related and detached from all that is around him? In many ways, focusing while levitating is a greater challenge than ever, as he relies on his sense of hearing alone to remain in contact with the world around him.]

Perhaps while you're here, you may gain a liking for chillier weather. There's much to recommend it!

A

[momentaryspring]

[Meditation classes? Ryoga didn't know nothing about no medication classes, but he had wandered into the park this afternoon, and he regarded Saint Walker with mild skepticism.]

I suppose... yet though the seasons have changed, the situation has not. I'm still stuck in this cursed country, with no way out!

[Well, it was functionally true.]

[burnseternal]

[At that, Saint Walker does open his eyes, regarding Ryoga curiously.] There is indeed a way out. A great number of imPorts visited Mexico, for a while, and North of America's borders is Canada, which is supposed to be quite a lovely place indeed. If you wish for a change, a visit to either of those countries may be in order.

[He sounds very sensible about it... perhaps because he himself has never tried to travel without the government's permission, and isn't aware that he'll be labeled as AWOL as a result.]

[momentaryspring]

I don't really need any syrup. What I really need is a map and airfare to Tokyo.

[That was what they had in Canada right.

IF ONLY HE COULD WRITE HIS FOLKS. But who knew when they'd be back in town again? He'd put his foot in it now, all right.]

I wish I'd ended up in China. At least you can swim the sea back.

[burnseternal]

[Between someone who is most definitely not of this time and place and a literal alien, this is unfortunately a stellar case of the blind leading the blind. A more informed person may be able to point out that Canada isn't a place where you can only get syrup, but Saint Walker is only tangentially aware of Canada as a concept, and doesn't see why it wouldn't be well known for its syrup production, and its syrup production alone. He simply gives him a puzzled sort of look, then nods, as if yes, that must be correct. A human would know, right?]

Nevertheless, you are here now, so it is best to make do with what you have for the time being. While I cannot help you with airfare, though I do not doubt it is within your power to save up for it, I can certainly help you find a map! They have plenty at the local library.

c

[curada]

[Victor's eyebrows lift when he lays his eyes on the person addressing him. He looks around himself to make sure he's the one being spoken to; and he inspects each stall three or four times, whilst an idle hand shuffles the needles and yarn in his carrier bag.

His expression is severe as ever. Perhaps he doesn't know what to say? Or perhaps he isn't the hopeful sort.]

Quite so. You will certainly hear no argument from me about that. A terrible shame, I should think.

[Unstated is the belief that people are entirely willing to overlook the poor and vulnerable; why wouldn't they ignore imperfections in their food, in that case?]

[burnseternal]

It is indeed! Though one that these good people are seeking to remedy, [he says, happily enough. Where Victor may see pessimism, Saint Walker sees, of course, nothing but cheery optimism. There are problems, certainly, but he always takes heart in the people who are moving to create the world that they want to see.

He gestures around them and says,] That is why, as I've gleaned, this entire thing exists in the first place. Otherwise, I'm afraid most of us would simply rely on our local grocery stores.

[curada]

Quite so.

[His right hand drops back into the bag he's holding.]

Unfortunately, the different varieties of produce are more interchangeable than the deformed appearances of the human frame. People who shop in these places appear as scions of principle, but I fear most would infallibly arrive at the same conclusion as their brethren on looking at the different accidents of life.

[It rummages around, and he talks to himself more than Saint Walker at this moment.]

Of what a vain, strange nature is man...

[burnseternal]

While I am sorry that you feel that way about your fellow humans, I assure you that your conclusions are not wholly correct; it is folly to believe that it is an infallible conclusion, rather than a temporary one, one that may be molded and changed, bit by bit.

[And what an odd topic to come to, after speaking on something as happily benign as produce.]

You are not of this world, correct? Perhaps you will find that things here are different from what you may be accustomed to.

a

[airshow]

[ Meditation sounds like the opposite of Trickster's thing. Holding still? Focusing on one thing (or nothing) for a really really really long time — one thing that isn't archenemying? Inner peace?

But on the other hand, he's been going through some stuff lately that he can only call internal turmoil. And he doesn't know that many people who know his kinda-sorta-secret. Even fewer that he's okay opening up to. But there's something about this space hippie that puts him at ease, ish, and maybe he can at least get some calm out of the deal. ]

I, for one, am looking forward to the end of mosquito season.

[burnseternal]

Oh, yes, I'm aware that many find their bites quite irritating. That is one chore of summer that I do not have to endure, however, [he confesses, cracking his eyes open to smile at James.] They find my skin to be quite unpalatable. If you dislike the fauna of one planet, I highly suggest going to an alien one!

[He's being cheeky, of course.

...most alien planets want to eat people more than Earth, not less.]

Although since that is not presently possible, I suppose you are stuck here, with myself and the mosquitos. Do you care to join me, my friend?

[airshow]

What, as a mediation buddy? Hey, sure, I'll try anything once. Let's give it a whirl.

[ But, he pauses. ]

Of course, uh, I've never done it before.

[burnseternal]

That's perfectly fine! In fact, it happens to be my specialty. I am an instructor, after all, and have taught many in the past.

[He pats the grass in front of him.]

Please, sit down in front of me. Cross-legged, with your hands resting on your knees as mine are.