The clock chimes. It is My Time.

[turningcolors]

It's a blustery day in the Nexus. A crisp bite has sunk its chill into the breezes as they whip up and die down all across the plaza. Up until only days ago the weather had been oppressively sunny and hot with the grass and trees in full summer green thanks to a certain someone's influence over the place but That. Ends. Today.

Leaves are drying out and scattering all over the plaza today and every tree is in a full myriad of fall colors. Brilliant scarlets, fiery oranges, glowing golds, and soft browns absolutely cover every inch of flora in the Nexus. What were before lush grasses have gone lean and a light brown, bushes have begin to lose their bulk and show off more and more of their twisting skeleton vines and branches. Flowers have died and been replaced by fruits or seed pods ready and waiting to scatter. Acorns roll in time with the dancing leaves across the walkways. The sky has turned a silvery grey though now and again the sun pokes out to warm the area again and bring an even brighter tone to the colors simply everywhere in the Nexus.

In the center of the plaza is Hazel Tasker. While she may be dressed in a red skirt and dark leggings with a sweater pulled on there's nothing Ordinary about her actual appearance. Her skin has taken on a deathly pale hue, nearly alabaster. It makes her hair stand out even more, a thrumming pulse of shifting color in the same reds, oranges, and golds of the leaves around her. Her green eyes are too quick to lock on to anyone who meets her gaze, her smile too sharp to be altogether human. A great pile of wood sits at her back, ready to make a considerably large bonfire once the day draws to an end. It will be lit then and the colors of the fire are her own as well. There will be music and dance and food to be had.

Until then she has all manner of food spread out before her. Planked fish and stripped meats drying to jerky, large pots full of canning equipment set to boil and sterilize while even more work to turning fresh fruit to jams and preserves and fresh vegetables to pickle or preserve all being manned by intrigued volunteers eager to learn how to prepare for the coming winter. To the first person who catches her eye, Hazel turns that smile their way. She has a question to ask after all.

"In a survival situation what's the one thing you'd never go without?"

[Feel free to tag in assuming it's either day or night when the bonfire is lit as there is no difference to the RP aside from setting flavor text. Also of note now that it is Autumn officially Hazel has a list of curses and blessings she can bestow on characters at a player's choosing or if they piss her off. Have fun and DM me if you have questions!]

Comments

[ottershawastronomer]

Autumn is Ogilvy's time. It's still warm enough that he feels comfortable coming out without winter clothes, and the autumns where he lived were crisp. He turns his attentions to Hazel's question.

"If I was in a survival situation..." That is a difficult question to answer, especially since some things take higher priority than others. "I'm assuming there's a way to find food or water. If not, I'd want something I can use to hunt. A knife." He isn't a hunter, far from it, the sight of blood makes him ill, but survival is survival. "If I have access to basic needs...I'd take my book of star maps. For several different reasons, both practical ones and not."

His star maps would be good for putting his mind in a more peaceful place, and if he knew the skies well enough (and after spending most of his adult life studying them he hopes he does) he could follow them back to civilization.

[turningcolors]

A knife.

A good answer. One of the most basic tools. A weapon to kill or protect with. A tool to cut and craft and notch. To entertain with whittling. So much use in a single handheld item. Hazel's smile grows until it fills her face. Her laughter dances with the breeze.

"A knife doesn't need fuel to be useful like a bow or a gun. If you were utterly alone you couldn't do much better than a blade at your side. The maps though...that is also a good choice. The early explorers held astronomers in high regard, even if it was the soldiers and crown who tool all the glory. They would never make it to their conquests were it not for the scientists."

[mudblood_andproud]

Hermione marvels at the myriad of fall colors in the Nexus. She walks past the changing flora. CJ follows along, except for when he gets distracted by chasing an acorn or dancing leaf every now and then.

Soon they reach where Hazel sits. She notes the food spread out before the other woman. And the volunteers eager to learn how to can. She smiles, remembering helping her mother make garlic pickles or canned green beans. CJ sniffs his nose, catching a whiff of the fish and meat.

"The knowledge of having lived through one survival situation, which would help me with another." She will never forget that year that Harry, Ron and herself had to stay on the run. Living in the woods. Being very cautious about using magic, else they would be found.

[turningcolors]

Hazel watches Hermione's every move. Vaguely she is aware that she Knows this human and they have exchanged words before but such things seem so far away right now. The kneazle gets a much sharper gaze from the spirit. Bot Hermione and the cat are magical which could be seen as a threat. But neither are brandishing it in front of her so she allows herself to relax ever so minutely.

Humbleness is a virtue to the wise.

"People overlook experience at times, this is true. Knowing how to follow a stream, what berries and fungi are safe to eat, how to kill and clean a beast for food...these are things that must be experienced to be learned. You could do much worse than to choose your own knowledge. I had thought you would choose your wand though."

[contrivings]

"My wits."

Penelope had been walking nearby, on one of her brief respites from her palace. She stops when she sees Hazel--the woman looks different to her, though the queen would be hesistant to say so aloud.

"I value my intelligence above all else. You need to stay calm in a survival situation, so rational thought is important."

[turningcolors]

Ah, the put upon queen. Hazel remembers her friend even if such a term seems a distant and weak facsimile of how she feels about such people usually. Right now the word human defines Penelope more than any other, not that such a word is necessarily a bad thing.

Like nature, it simply is.

"The one weapon no one can take. You know the value of walking into a life or death situation unarmed. Yet how would you use your wits to survive?"

[houmaprotector]

To be fair, as much as the Nexus's green has...disapproved of his efforts he's never felt better. The taste of that blood still runs through his roots and he feels far more...alive? Then he ever has. The green is sluggish and slow. Refusing to respond to his commands. It's enough. He can tend the plants and watch them grow, little curls of green and fresh tendrils even if his bones have begun to ache. Something is coming. Something feels strange.

He brushes it off even when his instincts tell him to be wary, cautious. Stroking a flowering bud, he shrugs at her, pauses, then turns back and stands.

This is not the same woman he's known.

He puts his hand in front of the blossom, protecting it.

"...Green. Green and growing things."

[turningcolors]

Hazel smells Alec approaching far before he's arrived. The scent of fresh grass and freshly tilled soil announce his presence on the breeze. He's coming. He truly thinks he can push her out. Deny her the right to be and to be herself.

He's bringing Wrongness with him. Vestals of Spring and Summer to what is her time. Hazel's gaze is on the flower bud, her lips curling back into more of a snarl than a smile. How dare he. How dare he come here and try to defy the laws of nature. The wheel must turn. It is her time now. Hers and hers alone.

"Not right now you're not. This isn't the time for growing. It's the time for sleeping and readying for Winter." There is no warmth to Hazel's voice. She doesn't speak loudly but the breeze carries every word.

[sweetcandygirl]

Harley is walking through the Nexus, whistling to herself as the crisp bite of the chilled air whips around her. She is not really dressed for the weather -- with her short glittery red shorts and ripped T-shirt. But she doesn't seem to mind being welcomed by the chill of fall.

She starts collecting leaves, a bright scarlet one, then a fiery orange one, then a gold and soft brown one. Then she releases her 'treasures' to the wind to see them dance with others that have fallen off the trees.

When she spots Hazel, she at first appreciated the dark leggings and the sweater the other woman wears. The un-ordinary appearance is appreciated too. And she is reminded of another woman who takes on the visage of the trees. For a moment. But once the moment passes, Hazel has Harley's full attention.

"One thing?" She thinks for a moment. A gun is useless without bullets, and you can only take so many bullets with you. And while she loves her bat, it is not the best weapon for most survival situations.

"I guess my will to survive has gotten me through a lot of bad situations. Does that count as a thing?"

[turningcolors]

Now this is an odd woman. Mocking the weather with her unsuitable attire and yet frolicking and dancing with the wind and the leaves Hazel has decided to shower on the Nexus. It's curious more than anything. As is the woman's lack of a natural fear response to the too wide smile on Hazel's face.

For as petite as she looks she's certainly acting like an apex predator in a den full of helpless pups right about now. So many people refusing to bring tools. Unwilling to even consider what may lay ahead of them. With no guarantee they'll be able to fashion them with their bare hands.

"Determination is the pride of the human race. Where other predators strike hard or quickly the human wears out it's prey. Chasing them until they collapse of exhaustion. You speak like your ancestors to give this answer."

[delphicbooksandbaubles]

Aal slightly closes her eyes slightly and tips her head slightly as she scents the air and area. Ah, sweater and coco weather. She half thinks fondly, but it also reminds her of the other two slices of the worlds. Maine mostly feels like this for the better part of the year. Or at least StoryBrooke does being seaside.

She tilts her head curiously as she pads softly closer and takes in the intriguing sight. But a part of her is still a mite cautious just on principle what with what happened during the last harvest time celebrations. She shivers slightly involuntary but she's not gonna let those shadows ruin the chance for nice things and better times. She smiles softly and friendly upon spying Hazel.

But then blinks rapidly upon noting the changes about her, her hairs all go up on end and some fur threads up her spine and into her hair under her hood. Her eyebrows go up near her hairline. But she nods respectfully and slightly lowers her eyes in the wolf way of acknowledging someone higher in the rank. Before glancing back up again as she sligthly mulls over the question.

"um, I would have to say my pack in both meanings of the word. " She states honestly. The thumb of her right hand hooking into the strap of the charmed bag on her back. That had seen her and others under her care through many an adventure. Though there were times where she probably wouldn't have had the strength to continue on if she wasn't fighting beside or for those she called pack whether by bond or blood. "Ahem, after all, what is survival worth without something or someone to fight for." She adds softly a bit tiring her best to clarify her thoughts somewhat.

Surviving was one thing, thriving and living a life worth going through the hard times for was another.

[turningcolors]

Another magic user, or magical creature? Hazel has no frame of reference for who or what Aal is when she's so closely tied to Autumn as she is now. Human terms of social construct don't seem to mean much right now but the threats of another with magic reach her just fine. It's only when Aal lowers her gaze and postures herself submissively that Hazel relaxes and allows a softer smile to grace her face in place of the nearly manic one she had been wearing.

It's so easy to become lost in having her powers once more. To being able to move as nimbly as the winds. To see and hear so much after being blind and deaf for three quarters of the year. Aal's choices stir something in the silt of Hazel's mind.

Remind her the sort of person she wants to be aside from a Seasonal Spirit.

"You're a protector. A caregiver." The very avatar of what Hazel wants to inspire in others. Someone who nurtures and protects rather than conquests. "Come, come." She beckons the woman toward her food preservation station. "See how we're preparing the Nexus for the coming Winter."

[eumenis]

It's a little overwhelming. The Wasteland has two seasons: the summer, with its oppressive heat and wild electrical storms, and the winter, if it can be called that, which is gentler in its way, but the winds blow steady and the nights are cold. Rain, if there is any, comes unpredictably, thin and spare. At least, that's the way it is now, in the Citadel and the other settlements along the Fury Road.

But she remembers the Green Place, and while a lot of the growth there was thick and green year-round, there were deciduous trees--Judith's peach trees--and there were the crops they grew, and there was Mother Demeter, which is what they called the largest tree in the place, after the goddess. They knew when to harvest by the shade of her leaves.

So, on the one hand, the fading of the grass and undergrowth is disheartening. She is reminded that the Green Place is gone now. On the other hand, there are seeds to be had everywhere, and she's too practical a person not to take advantage of that, plucking a few of the mature, dry pods and nuts and tucking them into her pockets with a shaky hand. It's the blaze of the leaf colors that really get her, though, and by the time she wanders into the center of the plaza, she has a little bouquet of leaves and dry milkweed pods held in her right hand. The chilly breeze is cooling the tears trailing down her face.

She's not really dressed for the temperature, but she seems relatively indifferent to the discomfort, too caught up in the contradictory emotions.

She blinks at the question, a little dazed but not so far gone she can't be analytical if spoken to by so unusual a person. She ran into a god not long ago; it occurs to her there could certainly be goddesses around, too. Mother Demeter herself, perhaps. "Water," she answers, and rubs the back of her right wrist over her face to straighten herself up a little. "And something to carry it in. Water first, then shelter, then food."

Most of her life has been a survival situation; ask her a hard one.

[turningcolors]

There is hurt in this woman's heart.

She clutches to Hazel's gifts like the precious treasures that they are. Her figure is lean and hardened by necessity. A nomad perhaps? When Hazel approaches it's with an empty glass jar which she holds out wordlessly to the woman. To store her seeds and collect more should she so choose.

"Most of the humans here are soft things. I did not expect anyone so well in tune with nature to exist in this place."

[readvondaniken]

Palmer likes autumn, mostly because he's had enough of winter for the rest of his life. He's not even looking forward to winter in the Nexus, both because of bad memories and because he's generally sick of the cold. Honestly, he can't wait for summer, though a nice cozy bonfire wouldn't be bad at all. He considers Hazel's question, mulling it over for a while.

"Depends on the situation. If it was in a place with other people, I'd want a radio or phone or some other way to call for help. I'm good with machines. Maybe I could use something there."

There are other possibilities. Palmer likes to think he wouldn't be helpless in a survival situation. He's a mechanic, after all, and a good one at that. He could fix machines or fire a gun. But out in the wilderness, away from human civilization, his usual skillset wouldn't be very useful anymore. If he was on a deserted island or something, he wouldn't last.

"If it was away from people...I'd want to have a lighter or somethin' along those lines. Somethin' I could use to keep myself warm and signal for help."

[turningcolors]

Ah, a modern man, truly.

Hazel hands off her wooden spoon to one of the many volunteers at the station before turning her attention to Palmer. As the light fades the bonfire is a boon and a great source of heat without the sun to offset the bite of the wind. Palmer will be nice and warn so long as he stays close to the fire.

"You could always salvage the parts in the radio for your own uses so this isn't a terrible choice. A lighter is a more double edged sword. You would have to be very careful where and when you used it. Once the fuel is gone, you'd be without any source of fire or light."

[auspex_caelo]

The season has turned as sharply here as in Skyrim, the bite of the wind forcing Stratos to tug his red cloak about him as he walks the streets. It makes him miss the gentler turn of autumn back home in Cyrodiil or even High Rock. He can't truly complain though. There's no frost gathering on his armor, no rain pelting down on his tousled hair - not yet. Though chill, the day is still pleasant, and a chance to walk with his thoughts among the reddening leaves is a much-needed spot of quiet for the Imperial tribune.

It's his birth month, and he can't help brooding a little on another year past. It's not really the time of year for it, not for another few months. But it's been a difficult year since Felix vanished. Very nearly a tragic year, twice over. He's grateful that things have turned out as well as they did, true. His little brother's approaching - and surprising - marriage is just one of the things that has him putting his work in perspective. How much fruit have his plans truly borne, this past year?

He can't ponder forever, of course. Inevitably his dutiful if absent-minded steps carry him back to the plaza. He's broken from his thoughts by the bustle of organized activity, the startlingly familiar smells of drying meat and boiling fruit. Stratos looks around to try and determine who's in charge of all this atypical productivity. Almost immediately Hazel catches his eye- at exactly the moment he seems to catch hers. He blinks at the strange suddenness of her smile, but her question is straightforward enough...

"Knowledge of the terrain," he replies. "I would like to hope I'd have prepared a pack full of useful tools, but failing that, knowing where to find a safe, dry shelter, where to drink and how to find sustenance would be absolutely essential."

[turningcolors]

A soldier, here in the Nexus?

Hazel was under the impression that this place didn't have any kind of organized authoritarian force. Like some of the others the stench of alien magics clings to him like a second skin but also like most of the others he has the sense to not make himself a threat. His cloak and all around attire make her feel wistful and nostalgic for ages long since past.

Speaking with him is like stepping back through time. It is not a bad feeling.

"I imagine most would very much like a map if they were expected to survive somewhere. But knowledge will only get you so far without skills."

Her steps make no sound against the ground, or maybe it's drowned out by the chatter of leaves and tumbling acorns around them. Either way Hazel leaves her preservation station and approaches the soldier.

"Are you much of a hunter?"

[fictionings]

“Without details about a specific scenario, I would have to say a reason for wanting to survive in the first place.” He reaches his hand toward the fire, absently testing whether he can feel its warmth. “Any reason whatsoever, even one seemingly small or insignificant.”

He has survived monsters, starvation, a massacre, a bullet to the head — and that is just from childhood. He really should be dead. He would be, were it not for an exceptionally talented doctor who fixed him up to prove a point about all lives being equal.

He’s here primarily to see Hazel. Since studying and organized crime are year round activities, the last time the changing of seasons meant anything other than a mark in the monotonous passing of time, or else a momentary distraction to appreciate artistically, something to see but not feel, was during the year he and his sister survived on their own in the mountains and fields.

[turningcolors]

It's an unexpected reply coming from a man Hazel would normally call a friend. Still does, insofar as she can care about anything that isn't Autumn's wishes and her work right now. It's remarkably difficult for her to remember the bonds she has as a human. They all seem so distant and muted right now.

Her first steps away from her table are sharp in the way only a strict teacher can be but by the time she reaches Johan they've softened considerably. She recognizes him and now Hazel seems nearly confused. His answer drives her to speak.

"It is not in mankind's nature to simply give up, but having something to protect can influence one's need to survive greatly. Perhaps you are not surviving for yourself but for someone else's sake."

[shardofwinter]

Since Winter Reynard has mostly kept to slinking about whenever he visits the Nexus. The persistent Summer weather didn't help, of course, but now? Now everything seems so much better. Fresh with a change he can welcome. He knew that Hazel's time had come, but it's one thing to know, another to see. Is it because of her that it feels all the richer? All the more beautiful? The colours more vivid, the taste of approaching decay more sharp in the air?

Unsure whether he would meet her or not, he bought some freshly roasted nuts. If he didn't find her, he could always have them himself. When he sees her, however, he hesitates. Nerves kick up in his stomach, rendering him about as useful as a boy in the face of his childhood crush. She is beautiful. Not in a human way. Not because of her hair, or her eyes, or that gleaming smile. The strength of her spirit, of Autumn's spirit, radiates from her. He can feel it in every drop of his soul. That strong sun in a cold breeze reassuring him that Winter is coming, and that thrilling declaration that time is running out, that people should use it wisely. It's calming and exciting at the same time, so he stands there for a minute, enjoying the sensation. Then he puts on his best smile and approaches her. When he gets to a respectful distance, he stops and bows before he speaks.

"A good knife. A tinderbox would be nice, too…" His eyes slide off thoughtfully for a full second before he shakes his head and smiles at her. "Ah, but I'd still choose a knife."

[turningcolors]

While her body moves about the food preservation station, always in a constant state of motion teaching this or guiding that, her magic reaches so much farther beyond the Plaza. Urging the trees to save their energy and begin shutting down. Warning the hibernating beasts to eat their fill and find shelter. Turning what passes here for a sun's rays less strong even when it shines bright and urging a bite to the wind. She orchestrates the weather, the flora, the fauna with the grace and finesse of a professional artist at her favorite craft.

Reynard will feel her magic before the woman turns. A sudden breeze that encircles him, drawing him closer toward the table. A gust of wind tipping back his hat strong enough that he'll have to reach for it or lose it.

And only when he's within earshot does Hazel turn to look at the Other Season who has come to see her. Her smile is for all the things inside Reynard that cannot be seen by the eye.

"I expected nothing less from you, Winter. What brings you out away from the cabin?"

[pirateangelbaby]

It's hard not to notice the sudden swing in the weather, an abrupt shift from the sticky summer heat to the icy promise hanging in the wind. Thor hadn't noticed any cold front moving in yesterday, and the hair on the back of his neck prickles as he looks around the Nexus, his hand feeling empty without the weight of a hammer in it.

Not that he would use it. But just in case.

Magic is no stranger to him, and this tastes strongly of it, though somehow he doesn't think his brother is behind it this time. If it was Loki's doing, he'd either be far more subtle about it, or fully embrace winter's touch far ahead of the solstice. There's nothing obviously malicious at work here, but when you have a trickster for a brother, it never hurts to be cautious.

His one-eyed gaze sweeps the Plaza, watchful for anything that doesn't seem to belong, ignoring the part where he might not even be able to tell. But there's something distinctly off about the woman asking her question, nothing he can put his finger on, but enough to guess that she's as human as he is. Which is to say, not. Though whether she's the witch responsible, there's no telling.

"Some kind of weapon. A sword or a spear, or even a hammer."

[turningcolors]

Worry not, Thunder God, the weather is in safe and well practiced hands. The woman herself may be busying herself over her food preservation station giving advice to those who are volunteering themselves to her tutelage but Hazel's magic is a shawl draped over this entire place.

She turns when he gets within earshot and that sharp smile is fixated on him only too quickly once he's spoken. She sense magic and power in this one. A threat possibly but she won't be put off her work so easily.

"A wise choice. Though a simple heavy rock would do in place of a hammer for most things. When it comes to man's early tools you really can get no simpler."

[thissideonly]

"I would go with one of those Swiss Army Knives," Tatsuya noted as he kneels in front of the canning pots, his other self hovering over his shoulder. "Anything that has multiple purposes, really."

"Do you own one?" The other Tatsuya asked.

"Not yet. Maybe you can buy one for me when we go back home? You can take it out of the bike fund." He turns back to Hazel. "Anyway, do you need help with anything? Seeing you've got a ton of stuff here."

[mapsandcodesohmy]

Doctor Sheldon Oberon considers the question long and hard after hearing it. He considers the situation he is in now, trying to make things work in an unfamiliar setting. With nothing to rely on but the kindness of others.

"I have always been fond of having a good map of my surroundings. But when it comes to having to defend myself... I would like a knife."

[turningcolors]

Hazel has the impression that this one is lost in more than one way when he wanders into her little work station. He's not aggressive or flippant about his lack of preparedness though so the spirit approaches this new guest.

"Both are acceptable choices. Do you know how to defend yourself by chance?"