riverviewlogs | OPEN | the waves still crash on the bonfire ash.

who: skye & you, hopefully.
what: getting settled? getting hype? what's soon to be the usual, probably.
when: throughout the month of may.
where: city-wide!
warnings: none yet.

✈ in memoriam.

( she doesn't want to mourn. not like this, anyway. skye has too many guilt-laden memories that hang off her ribs to let them free into this city yet; she's half-convinced she'd light too many lanterns and burn the place down. so, instead, she opts to observe. she finds a quiet place off to the side where she can draw 8-bit patterns across the lantern someone had so helpfully placed in her hands and thinks back to all the people she'd left behind.

she draws a pattern on one side, jagged lines that don't quite meet so much as attempt to cross each other out, and hides a name in the blur of ink in the middle. trip, four letters, but they're hard enough to write as it is. another side depicts the layout of the bus, a messy blue print from an untrained hand. the lines are thickest for a square off to the side; not her bedroom, but the sparring room. a place that left her mourning for something that had never been real in the first place. ward. what could have been.

at one point, someone approaches her, lighter in hand and ready to help lift the lantern up into the sky. there's a beat of hesitation before she shakes her head, fingers clutching reflexively over the paper between them. )

No, I think I'm going to keep it, actually.

( is that weird? it might be weird. )

Is that okay?

✈ in officio.

( they offer her a job. well, to be more specific, they tell her to find her own work, which seems a lot more real than anything else thus far. she's not used to having things handed to her, anyway; the idea of having to find her own work seems much more skye than playing cheerful worker drone and just going where they tell her to.

not that she really has to try, anyway. the city seems more than happy to request software codes — mostly inconsequential things, housekeeping projects that likely are a little too blase for anyone they might keep on staff full time, but skye doesn't mind. it puts money in her pocket and boredom on the back burner, the former of which she prefers and the latter of which is probably better for the city.

as a freelancer, though, skye doesn't have an office. there's no official place for someone to meet her or come calling; ultimately, it means that everywhere becomes her office. depending on the day or her mood, she calls a few places "home away from home" — the coffee shops, of course, with their comfortable seating and plentiful selection of baked goods; the local university's library, naturally, and its expansive collection of quiet working tables and reference materials; and in a twist, the local gym, where skye can scout for someone she might want to approach after hours, in the hopes of filling up all that precious free time.

she thinks may might even be proud of her for that. sparring voluntarily? who would have thought. not skye, that's for damn certain, but she's trying new things. like talking to people, for one. such as: )

Hey — ( hey you, no, that's rude. ) — listen, can you hand me that?

( "it" could be anything. a lamp, a book, a muffin someone dropped on the ground. go crazy. get weird. make things happen. )

✈ wildcard.

( y'all probably know the drill. if you want something particular, please shoot me a pm and let me know! ♥ )

Threaded | Flat

[Lyle happened to be passing by during this. He had done up his own lantern, full of the people he'd lost during his life. He had more done it just because, but it had felt oddly good... to just let it go at the end of it all.

So now he was just enjoying the sights when he saw someone working on one of their own, offering his lighter if she needed it. Then she said she was going to keep it. He did raise a brow but then shrugged]

Hey, it's not a problem with me. Entirely up to you if you want to release it or hang onto it.

[He blew out his lighter and put it back in his pocket]

People have different ways of working through things. If that's what you're doing.

[Alex Reagan tends to haunt and collect coffee shops like some people collect actual cups of coffee. The one she's in now is currently her favorite for morning coffee: good and strong, but without the taste of being burnt that it can sometimes have later in the afternoon. Later in the afternoon would mean another place with an iced latte, but for now Alex needed the caffiene more than the sugar.

She's debating grabbing some pastries, because honestly, when isn't life better with pastries, and when the woman speaks to her, Alex grabs the muffin that she asked for with a quick smile, before handing it over.]

Sure, here ya go. In my opinion though, I would recommend the blue berry over the chocolate chip. I don't know why it is, but their blueberry muffins are a little bit like crack. I find that the chocolate ones always tend to up too dry.

[ The gym seems like as good a place as any for Wally to work out some of his frustration at not being able to do anything while more and more people get sick by the day. Normally he would go for a run whenever he felt this way, but with the virus being unpredictable, venturing beyond the walls on his own doesn't sound like the best of ideas right now.

So he settles for lifting some weights, running on a treadmill that is incapable of navigating the time-stream like the one Barry Allen built back home, and throwing some inhumanely fast punches at one of the bags hanging up in a somewhat open display of his speedster abilities.

It's when he's finishing toweling off from the last activity that he hears a woman asking to be handed something, and after a moment of blinking stupidly at her, he realizes she is talking to him and reaches out for the bag that is sitting on the bench in front of him so he can give it to her. ]

Oh, here you go. [ His lips quirk up into a small smile, the time at the gym having lightened his mood a bit. ] Nothing like a good workout, huh.

[In a not-so-surprising turn of events Steve happens to be hitting the gym at the same time. While he usually trains in the Perimeter Guard's training room, taking on his fellow Guards and trainees a like, there's something to be said for a normal work-out regiment where he only has to focus on his own limits and pushing them as far as they will go.

He's been at it for a good hour, traveling between machines from bench pressing to calf stretches and everything in-between, and he's even managed to work up a bit of sweat. Which is why he goes to a lower maintenance work-out next; hand held weights.

Grabbing up the heaviest set on the rack, he takes a seat on the bench and begins to lift. He makes it through one rep before a voice bursts through his concentration.]

Oh, yeah. What weight would you like? [He sets his weights down on the floor by his feet, freeing his hands to grab what she asks for.]

[ Finn experiences what the kids would call an "oh worm" moment. He sort of ended up doing the same thing with his at the last second. Maybe not for all the same reasons-- it's hard to be sure with these things.

Mourning is new. He's not sure if he really feels it yet. He just knows he looked down at his lantern when someone offered to help send it off, and everything on there didn't feel like enough. Maybe it never will. ]

If it's not okay, no one's told me that.

[ Finn hovers in kind of a weird vicinity. Like a 'prepared to help ward off a mob of people who for some reason have suddenly decided that no, all the lanterns need to be lit Right Now' vicinity. Even though everyone is either wrapped up with their own thoughts or respectfully backing up to give her more time already. There's no way that PVPing is gonna be necessary. ]

in memoriam

in officio

in officio

in officio;

in memoriam.