riverviewlogs | OPEN | i know my call.

who: skye — or, as she'll be soon known, daisy johnson — and you.
what: a post canon-update catch-all.
when: throughout october.
where: city-wide.
warnings: discussion of past trauma, violence, and death likely. will update if anything specific.

@ the gym.

[ she's been to the gym before. this gym, even. granted, it's mostly been to swipe an apple from the welcome desk or to sneak in a shower in between greasy sessions of swinging a monkey wrench around like she knows what to do with it, but she's been here before. people might even recognize her.

or, more accurately: they might catch recognition in the profile, but there's something off about her. something different. she's grown up, if you will.

today, she's busying herself in a small room off to the side. it's usually set aside for games of sport, squash or racquetball or other "old men in tight white shorts" sort of sports, but today she's claimed it as her own. there's a tennis ball launcher on one side of the room; the net's been torn down, though, and all along the floor lay squashed remains of formerly functional, dingy tennis balls.

what's happened to them? well, she's happened to them. what's she doing? well, she's standing, mostly; her feet purposefully set shoulder-width apart, her hand outstretched towards the opposite side of the room — with each launched object comes a burst of focused vibrational energy, and the ball is rocketed towards one wall or another with an echoing thwap of sound.

hopefully no one opens the door... or a ball might just ricochet into somebody's face instead. #whoops ? ]

@ the park.

[ it seems like a good place to go. even with the #2spooky4u festivities going on around the city, her favorite stretch of grass and trees remains blissfully un-decorated, with only the seasonal shift in foliage to augment the view. instead of green as far as the eye can see, now there's splotches of brown and orange and red blended into the canopy; instead of soft spring grass or the soft scratch of its summertime weeds, there's the content crunch of browned leaves under her feet and plenty of bare patches to spread out a blanket.

as luck would have it, the park's apparently not just her favorite spot today. no, with the festivities occupying most of the more common gathering places, the local youths (!!) have begun to congregate in these stretches of bare ground, using them as launching pads for their collection of model plans and drones and other flying contraptions. it wouldn't be terrible... but of course, it also can't just be about flying things. no, small children have to be obnoxious with their toys, and these hooligans are no different: they set their drones to swoop down and scare innocent passersby, knocking off caps and startling pacifiers right out of babies' mouths.

suffice it to say, she's a little annoyed at the intrusion... which might explain why she's opted to go for the nuclear option: since she probably shouldn't quake it out of the sky, maybe hacking into the nearby wifi signal to adjust the course of one of the planes might do the trick. only — fuck, who's phone is this? and why is it suddenly blaring cheesy 90s pop hits?

#whoops part two? ]

@ wherever.

[ wildcard option, ya dig? i'll throw closed starters in comments, but feel free to hit me up if you want something for your special self. ]

Threaded | Flat

[ it's bad enough to suddenly find yourself chock full of a year and change worth of memories, but to add ghosts into the mix just seems downright unfair. she spends exactly one full hour swatting away the transparent visage of her now-dead former romantic interest before she's ready to pull her own hair out.

not the kind of thing she wants to go through alone. so, obviously, there's only one place to go: to the house of those that have previously handled ghost hell with her. just a bit unfortunate that the house seems to be locked, and with neither of them answering their phones for some reason, well...

it's a desperate situation, and desperate situations call for desperate measures. and, apparently, a few desperately tossed rocks at windows. ]

Hello! [ thwack. ] Jyn! [ thwack! ] Cassian! [ thwack! ] Oh, fuck this.

[ there's an open skylight on the roof. it's basically an invitation. and jyn had said she was welcome anytime. so: a well-placed quaked lift, and ta-da; hello attic, nice to meet you. ]

Anybody home?

[Oh, well, you know how it is. One moment you're interrupting someone's training with tennis balls, the next you're being struck right in the face with one. That is to say, Laura is pelted hard enough that her nose bleeds for 2.5 seconds rather dramatically before stopping as soon as it started — the joys of instantly healing.

Most people would, like, be crying or hissing or on the floor, but she just looks mildly peeved as she looks down at the red on her sloth shirt and regrets not being her usual fast self. Too sluggish with thought, perhaps. She'd been avoiding a lot of people and places, but the gym was nice.]

Maldición, I liked this shirt a lot.

[such an intense reaction call the cops]

Edited (i like this insult more, what) 2018-10-04 09:08 (UTC)

[ #whoops indeed. Finn is trying to live his simple best life in the park today. Well, sort of. He also just about got around the point where he was thinking these youths are being jerks about the drone things.

He mostly doesn't know what to do with kids, but he's very good at telling people to knock it out re: outright foolishness, so he was gonna figure his plan out on the way.

He has to take a broad detour on that plan because yeah, he's minding his own personal nosy business and??? His phone hates him now? It's like a jumpscare-lite. He has his jump moment and then here he stands. Stopped next to a bench. Looking down at his phone like this is the gravest and most offensive betrayal he has ever personally been subject to. Finn says something like "wHAT" directly to it.

Finn then does what any 20-something person with no idea what the hell is happening in their life would do, after a hot second. His soul ascends this mortal coil. He can't make it stop and he doesn't know how to take the battery out. Did the invisible ghost of Han Solo stop by to torment him? We just don't know.

SO HE JUST SORT OF.......... SITS DOWN ON THE BENCH....... to the timeless sound of 'Two Princes'.

This entire part of his day is off the rails he had laid out.

And I mean, I'm not gonna lie, he looks up and sees Skye and he definitely gives her a look that says "I don't know if you can do anything to actually help with my haunted phone but help me anyway." Because that's his brand of nerd.

Also if you need me to change anything in here just hit me up, I got your back. ]

[Alex was found in the park lately more often than she would have liked to have been. It was where she'd done a fair amount of working out, and occasionally she'd have her lunch and coffee out there. Right now, however, she's just walking on her way home from work, liking it because the fact that there were so many people hopefully meant that the amount of ghosts in the sunlight would be limited. At least her own were so far, so Alex wanted to be alone as little as possible.

Even if she was alone in the crowd around them.

However, an old ghost did appear suddenly, and Alex blinked quickly at the sound of I Want It That Way coming from her phone. With heating cheeks, Alex pulled it out of her pocket and blinked at it. Honestly, she didn't even know that she'd had the song on there. What the hell? Looking around the park to see if it was happening to someone else, Alex's smile brightened when her eyes landed on Skye, and she pressed the button to shut the music off quickly.

Even if it wasn't working. Why wasn't it working? What the hell?!]

[well actually it's tommy's phone that's been hacked and is now playing a jarringly jaunty tune. thanks, he hates it. so much so that he actually slows to a stop within sight of skye, pulls his phone out of his pocket, and stares at it in horror like it's suddenly sentient and determined to destroy the world.]

Dude, what the hell is this?!

[ The ball does indeed almost ricochet into Poe's face, and only BB-8's warning shriek gets him and his Very Smashable Nose ducking out of the way in time to avoid at the very least a black eye.

Poe touches his nose, an impulse that seems kind of stupid--he would know if it was broken, pretty clearly. ]

Uh, hey Skye. [ BB-8 whistles a greeting of his own, followed by a few scolding noises. ] Hush, Bee.

[ To Skye: ] Still practicing, huh?

closed » jyn & cassian

@ the gym

@ the park

Park!

park.

@ the gym i'm sorry this is so short I JUST WANTED TO FINALLY DO THE THING