open log!

[sharpshooterpaladin]

Who: Lance and anyone!
What: Arriving, mostly, and trying to find people and not die.
Where: Northern Drifts and then the Lake area.
When: Early/middle of October
Warnings: None so far!


Northern Drifts:

[ What wakes him was the cold. Lance hadn't had the luck to be dropped indoors, and while his armor keeps him safe from pretty extreme temperatures, he doesn't have a helmet at the moment, so his face is getting snowed on. Snowed on. He's not used to snow! Not even a little!

After minimal time of getting his bearings, which is mostly to say, to his feet, he starts calling out for his teammates. ] What the... guys?! Keith? Hunk, Pidge, Allura? ... Anyone?

[ Resounding, snow-blanketed silence. He only briefly scans the contents of the pack, noticing his clothes and the rations, but not much else beyond that. It alarms him a little, after a moment, that it seems he's unarmed. He can't find his weapon, and the communicator on his suit's not working... but he also hasn't seen anything hostile yet. So he slings his pack over his shoulders and starts searching, picking a direction and sticking to it as much as he's able.

Once he gets to the cabins, he starts knocking on doors, and opening them when there's no answer, but nothing here really seems lived in. Periodically he still calls out a name or two, but the longer he keeps trying, the more he loses hope of anyone answering.

Eventually he slumps against a cabin wall, sighing, looking up at the sky. ] Come on...


The Great Lake:

[ The way is both longer and shorter than he expected. The climate changes so abruptly it kind of confuses him, but the snow gives way to green and then there's water. And there's people-- at least he's pretty sure he saw a someone or two on the banks of the lake, just too far away for him to recognize, or even be sure whether or not they're human.

So now he's having a field day using his jetpack to hop from tall tree to tall tree, keeping a vantage point and trying to find out where people might live around here. Of course that's not exactly a subtle approach. ]

Comments

The Great Lake

[fighterpaladin]

[It's been two days.

Keith woke up in the Eastern Plains. After the initial confusion (and mild freak-out) for not only not being in his lion anymore but also for the fact that he was alone, he too resorted to calling for his teammates and friends until it felt useless. The environment was daunting but familiar, in a slightly uncomfortable way. It felt - and looked - like home. But that was impossible. He couldn't be home-- He couldn't be on Earth. They hadn't arrived yet. ... Had they?

The heat was close to unbearable. He checked the contents of the bag that had been with him when he woke up and was surprised to find his usual clothes there. His blade was there, too, thankfully, but looking at it made him soon realize that his bayard was gone. There were rations and a couple of other things he didn't see the purpose of but didn't throw away, either. Not until he figured out what was going on.

... That didn't come as soon as he'd hope.

By the time he got tired of aimlessly wandering in the desert - but never too far into it - it became obvious that he was lost and that nobody else seemed to be there. After a day, he started walking inland.

That's what brought him here. His rations are almost gone, but the green and the cooler air give him hope that maybe he can find some answers still.

At some point through his travels, he took off the upper part of his armor. His arm-protectors are stored inside the bag and his upper black body-suit is off and hanging around his waist. In its place he dressed his usual t-shirt, the sleeves folded up to make it as much of a tank-top as possible. Even back home, the heat was never as bad as he had just experienced.

He is carrying his bag on one shoulder and his chestplate on the other, his blade held securely in one of his hands, just in case. His steps are heavy - he is so freaking tired - but the further into the green he gets, the more certain he is that he will find water, eventually.

And, eventually, he does.

What a sight for sore eyes. He almost trips and falls on his face as he breaks into a dash towards it, waiting to be close enough to shore before dropping his things and getting in. He doesn't bother to undress, either, falling on his knees as soon as the water reaches them, and letting it bring his whole everything back to life. He uses his hands to wash his face and bring water to his arms and shoulders before starting to drink it, unaware, for the time being, that he isn't alone.]

The Great Lake!

[arrogator]

Hey! You!

[If Lance looks down from the tree, he'll find a fully armored knight looking up in his direction. Probably. Might be kind of hard to tell what exactly she's looking at with that helmet covering her face.]

Get down here for a minute, I've got some questions for you!

[Sorry if she sounds mad, she's still not happy about all of this. She's got other places to be, Grails to steal, so being wherever this is putting her in a foul mood. And, she really doesn't realize that angrily yelling at this guy in a tree probably isn't the best way to get someone to listen.]

Drifting, Northerly

[sinistral]

[It's cold.

It's not quite Siberia cold, but it's most definitely much, much colder than the place he'd gone to sleep. It's also entirely the wrong weather for it, which means that Bucky isn't dressed properly for waking in a snow drift; denim and cotton are quickly soaked through with the bodyheat-melted snow. It's actually quite miserable, and he thinks that frostbite could be a very real concern if he doesn't get himself out of the wet clothing.

He spares only a moment to look through his pack (it's not his, it's not the one he'd had on going to sleep but it has his things in it so it must be his now) before shouldering it and pulling himself to his feet. He's got to get moving to maintain core body temperature, and he's got to find shelter and heat to prevent the more negative effects of the cold.

The irony of being the Winter Soldier isn't lost on him.

Regardless of his personal ire at the waking conditions and his many questions, survival is the highest priority for him. That means moving; without any idea of the lay of the land or the orientation of a compass, he picks a direction and starts walking.

He's not walking for too long when his ears pick up sound in the distance: a voice. Bucky reorients himself to approach it at an angle; he's not sure what there is out here to trust, but another voice may mean shelter and that's most definitely worth investigating.

There's no recognition when he comes upon the other man (he thinks it's a male anyway, and he's going to assume that pronoun until proven otherwise). Lack of recognition doesn't necessarily mean anything though, not to a man whose mind is already pretty fragmented, more so than Bucky likes admitting even privately. Bucky isn't the sort to want to approach others if he can help it, but the saying about desperate times and desperate measures exists because the former really does too often lead to the latter. And he's armed besides; he's pretty sure he can take the other man if he really has to.]

Hey! [His voice is a little rough from the cold, but it should carry enough to be heard.] Is there shelter around here?

The Great Lake

[clawandscars]

[There's someone at the edge of the lake. He appears to be eating something. From a distance, it looks like some sort of meat, but up close, it's clear that Tsume is gnawing on a raw, uncooked rabbit. It doesn't matter if it's meat, internal organs, or bone, he's eating it all. He'd found it in his pack, so why waste good meat?

While he looks human, the tracks all surrounding him are big paw prints, and the reflection in the lake is that of a gray wolf who has the exact same prominent X-shaped scar Tsume has on his chest. He looks up when he hears Lance approaching. He looks up, golden eyes narrowed in suspicion.]