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shardofwinter) wrote in ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png)
nexus_crossings2019-01-03 10:57 am
shardofwinter) wrote in nexus_crossings2019-01-03 10:57 am
Entry tags:
The Start of the Storm
The god hosted Yule party left the Nexus in the state of beautiful Winter Wonderland. With the snow falling softly and steadily, and the beautiful festive lights twinkling in the darkness, the Nexus is left with a sense of serene nostalgia hanging in the cold air. This peace and joy clings to the streets for several weeks, buoying everyone’s mood as they look back on the past year and forward to ringing in the new one.
It starts in the Wilds, and the outskirts. The cold air suddenly feels like it freezes everything it touches in an instant. Light doesn’t quite pierce the gloom. Gentle snowfall becomes thick and falls hard. One or two people looking for shelter from their uninhabitable homes isn’t too noticeable. People can still enjoy their pretty Winter, blissfully unaware. Pipes freeze solid, paths become impassable, power cuts out, simple walks become baffling in the poor visibility. Soon it’s not one or two people, it’s many, it’s families. There are people coming in, bloody, bruised and scared, saying they were chased. Eventually the kindness of friends and strangers becomes strained. Spare rooms are packed to the brim and the storm that stays just shy of the bizarre torches somehow seems to have a slow, but unmistakable march closer towards a point where the Plaza, Industrial sector and Downtown meet. On top of that, people are complaining about PINpoints acting up or portals freezing over.
Streets are becoming packed full of people with far more problems than solutions. Huddling together and whispering about ghosts and monsters moving about in the shadows. In a place with no government, no organisation, no collaborative emergency services, chaos and confusion reigns supreme. And with chaos, comes panic. With confusion, comes frustration and anger. The Nexus is a powder keg waiting to blow.
That’s certainly how one Durant sees it. As a manager, Isidor is keen on organisation and order. Both things that are lacking in the Nexus at the moment. Groups pop up to help, but struggle to communicate effectively, or work together. Some people get free food twice, some people are still waiting for some at all. It’s madness, and Isidor can’t stand it. Particularly because she, her brother and sister-in-law are stuck here. So, when nobody else takes the mantle, Isidor Durant takes it upon herself to inject some order into this scrum.
In her fur hat and long coat, leather gloves and thick boots, Isidor can be seen directing people this way and that. There’s something about a confident person taking charge that means people instinctively defer to them. She becomes the point of contact quite easily, with people soon taking her direction regardless of whether or not they know her. Under her instruction, people are directed to a building that has tables set up, queues in front of them, and volunteers behind them taking names and telling people where to go. It might still be chaos, but at least now it’s organised chaos.
The question is: Where will your character go?
((Below are comments for each desk. Tag any of them, threadhop, or post with your own character. I suggest putting your character’s name in the subject to help keep things clear. Comments marked with a snowflake ( ❅ ) have been coordinated with the mods and I as official event comments. The OOC Post is here! If you have any questions, feel free to message me or one of the mods!))
Threads of Note
Medicine/Illness | Shelter/Heat | Food | Security/Crime | Lost items/people | Misc resources/Donations | Volunteers | Expeditions | Planning Table/The woman in charge | Drulb's Deelz | A Ship in the Outskirts
It starts in the Wilds, and the outskirts. The cold air suddenly feels like it freezes everything it touches in an instant. Light doesn’t quite pierce the gloom. Gentle snowfall becomes thick and falls hard. One or two people looking for shelter from their uninhabitable homes isn’t too noticeable. People can still enjoy their pretty Winter, blissfully unaware. Pipes freeze solid, paths become impassable, power cuts out, simple walks become baffling in the poor visibility. Soon it’s not one or two people, it’s many, it’s families. There are people coming in, bloody, bruised and scared, saying they were chased. Eventually the kindness of friends and strangers becomes strained. Spare rooms are packed to the brim and the storm that stays just shy of the bizarre torches somehow seems to have a slow, but unmistakable march closer towards a point where the Plaza, Industrial sector and Downtown meet. On top of that, people are complaining about PINpoints acting up or portals freezing over.
Streets are becoming packed full of people with far more problems than solutions. Huddling together and whispering about ghosts and monsters moving about in the shadows. In a place with no government, no organisation, no collaborative emergency services, chaos and confusion reigns supreme. And with chaos, comes panic. With confusion, comes frustration and anger. The Nexus is a powder keg waiting to blow.
That’s certainly how one Durant sees it. As a manager, Isidor is keen on organisation and order. Both things that are lacking in the Nexus at the moment. Groups pop up to help, but struggle to communicate effectively, or work together. Some people get free food twice, some people are still waiting for some at all. It’s madness, and Isidor can’t stand it. Particularly because she, her brother and sister-in-law are stuck here. So, when nobody else takes the mantle, Isidor Durant takes it upon herself to inject some order into this scrum.
In her fur hat and long coat, leather gloves and thick boots, Isidor can be seen directing people this way and that. There’s something about a confident person taking charge that means people instinctively defer to them. She becomes the point of contact quite easily, with people soon taking her direction regardless of whether or not they know her. Under her instruction, people are directed to a building that has tables set up, queues in front of them, and volunteers behind them taking names and telling people where to go. It might still be chaos, but at least now it’s organised chaos.
The question is: Where will your character go?
❅-❅-❅-❅
((Below are comments for each desk. Tag any of them, threadhop, or post with your own character. I suggest putting your character’s name in the subject to help keep things clear. Comments marked with a snowflake ( ❅ ) have been coordinated with the mods and I as official event comments. The OOC Post is here! If you have any questions, feel free to message me or one of the mods!))
Threads of Note
Medicine/Illness | Shelter/Heat | Food | Security/Crime | Lost items/people | Misc resources/Donations | Volunteers | Expeditions | Planning Table/The woman in charge | Drulb's Deelz | A Ship in the Outskirts
no subject
"If this weather continues, any little thing anyone can do to help will be vital, I'm sure," Loki says. "But do not neglect your own care and protection, either of you."
"I'd offer my assistance," he tells Viatorus with a grin, "but I've never made snowshoes, and I'm about to head further out into the Nexus to see what I can find."
He sobers at the question. "I would think Thor might be able to direct it some, were he here, but I have not seen him. He may be shut out. As for myself...I am Jotun, whether I like it or not. I'm built for the cold, and you will never see me with frostbite. But I am no weather god, and anyway it is Winter. I judge it unwise to interfere with natural phenomena lightly anyway, but this..."
"I want to know more about what's happening before I raise a hand against it, if indeed I decide to do so. The torches, the attacks, the dark presences...I don't know. It might be a message."
no subject
Runa glances up at her husband, eyeing his expression briefly before turning back to the god and mirroring his smile. "Would you like snowshoes? We still have a few."
"That's smart," Viatorus says with a nod. "It doesn't seem natural. I know there are rumours of it being caused by a spirit, or a portal opening to a snow dimension or planet. It would help if we knew more about what was going on. If there's a cause, maybe we can fix it."
"You can't fix winter," Runa tells him with a funny look on her face.
He doesn't look convinced. "We don't know that it's just winter. If it's something else, we should know." Turning back to Loki, he's more serious when he says, "I think it's a good idea. If there's anything I can do to help you, let me know."
no subject
"I think I will leave the snowshoes for mortal people that might need them," he tells Runa with a smile. "But perhaps some day when there is no crisis at hand, I'll try them."
He's quiet for a moment as the two of them talk, and he's smirking when they finish. "Thank you," he says, "for illustrating my own thought processes regarding the matter right before my eyes. No, Winter cannot be fixed, and if this is just an exceptionally harsh one for the Nexus, it is not my place to battle the season. But if some of the worst effects can be mitigated, and if there is something to be learned, I may as well see what can be done. Otherwise, I'll just sit around and be bored, and no one wants that."
"I'll keep you in mind," he adds, nodding at Viatorus' offer. And he will.
"And if the two of you are in dire need at any point, I hope you will consider calling on me. I'll do what I can, when I can."
no subject
The way her smile pulls at Loki's words says she knows exactly how bad it would be for him to get bored. Gods stuck in small areas for extended periods of time is bad enough. A god of mischief though? That could be… Well. Bad would be an understatement.
Viatorus manages a proper, if small, smile this time. "We will."
"And if you need medicine…" Runa gestures to her desk. "I'll be here. Not that you'll need any. You'll be fine. I'm sure you won't have to worry about anything. Except getting fed, I suppose."
no subject
He gives them a wider smile, aiming for reassuring. "Don't waste your concern on me. I've had so many attempts on my life I've lost count, and yet here I am today. Once all this blows over, I'll be sure to come to you for cakes."
That seems to be all that need be said, and so he gives them a courtly nod of farewell (he's posturing; it's a good idea to continue to look respectable and powerful in front of people who respect you, after all), and then slips quietly away to let them attend to more pressing matters.