riverviewlogs | (no subject)

who: Buffy Summers
what: Coffee shop ,patrol, blood donation, exploration of the area
when: March 21-27
where: Perimeter, clinic, general area
warnings: TBD

Morning is spent working her shift at the coffee shop. Being a barista is something that worked out for her at home and something that she chose to do here. As far as jobs go, she likes being a barista. Once her shift is done there, she'll head out for an early afternoon patrol.

The brownouts had made Buffy a little nervous, but when the blackouts started she got even more nervous. The assurances that the perimeter fence will hold don't do much to assure Buffy. She prefers patrol as a means of assurance. Besides, it's something she knows how to do. She can be found patrolling along the fence with a stake in hand. She looks casual and relaxed. In fact, she might not look like she's paying any attention at all, but especially where Buffy is concerned, looks can be deceiving.

She'd read the announcement about needing blood donations both for injuries and for food sources. It hits close enough to home that she stops by the clinic and donates blood (but not any tissue because she's a little weirded out by that). She gives some warnings about her blood possibly being like crack to vampires and maybe stick to using it for an injury since it could also help with some speedy healing.

Between afternoon patrol and evening patrol, Buffy does some exploring around town, checking things out and not only trying to get the layout of the town, but get an idea of how people are reacting to the power issues as well.

Threaded | Flat

There was no greater crime than harming a tree. Okay, there was, but Fatima was attuned with mother nature and therefore not going to press her luck. So she decided to break a chair in order to whittle some stakes for herself. She bought it cheap at one of the markets and took it to the edge of town, near a deserted part of the fence. And then proceeded to crack it against the ground until it shattered.

Practical. Efficient. And, if she was honest, kind of therapeutic.

Her frustration had been growing steadily for days now, as she struggled to wrap her mind around the idea of the multiverse. Of dealing with more than one version of a person at a time. And of the growing realization that she was...well. Alone.

There wasn't anyone else from her world here, as far as she knew. And certainly, she didn't have friends.

She scowled down at the chair leg her hand, half worn into a stake with her hunting knife. Maybe it was better that way. No friends. No attachments. At the very least, it meant no distractions from her work. But she would be lying if she said it didn't make her feel severely less human.

He still can't really believe that he got here with both Derek and Buffy. He keeps looking for Zee for that reason, hoping she'll show up and he'll have all of his little makeshift pack he'd formed in that other place they were in before finding the portal into the Quarantine. He gets sad about it, about the lack of Zee. But then he also counts his blessings: Derek and Buffy. Eventually, he won't be so paranoid about losing them here. But until then, he's probably a little too present in their lives.

Wearing jeans and a tee, the cheapest thing he could find at the shop, he's the asshole that walks into the coffee shop a minute before closing. He goes over to the counter and rests his elbows on it, leaning in as he watches Buffy cleaning up with closing preparations. The less asshole-ish part of this is that he doesn't intend to stay.

Her back is to him when he speaks up. "Ain't really here for the coffee. But can I walk you out when you're done?"

Midway through her patrol shift came a deployment of additional staff. The wall might hold, but no one wanted to take any chances.

Roy didn't mind working extra time, especially when the Good of the City was at stake. Sure, he walked up to the fence with a frown, but that had more to do with getting stuck in a sub shop for an hour than any particular irritation with the job, and he managed to bring up a smile for his new shift partner.

"They're adding guards," he said by way of greeting. "Just in case, I suppose -- I haven't heard of any credible threats. But it looks like we'll be patrolling together for a bit."

Bucky also enjoys patrolling, though not for the same reasons and not for the same enemies. The power outages are making him nervous, they could easily be a tactic to throw the city into confusion before an attack comes, and he's assuaging those nerves by making sure the defences are holding up as well as they can.

He has beaten back a couple of monsters that found a weak spot, only small ones, and now his leg is aching viciously. He should find a place to sit down, but he keeps going all the same, rounding a corner only to nearly run into a young woman.

She reminds him immediately of Black Widow, small and slight but with a stance that says she knows exactly how to fight people more than twice her size. But her weapon of choice... what the hell is that?

"There's a small breach back there, arm yourself properly before you go on."

It's probably a bad sign that Scott's waiting by the coffee shop before it even opens, but, yo, man, he's been up all night trying to fix the power grid. So, make that a scruffy-looking Scott, loitering and mumbling to himself, pacing back and forth in front of the coffee shop door. Probably mentioning how much easier this could be if he had ants.

Ivar is out on patrol himself, wheeling himself around in the wheelchair he's recently painted camo. All the better for blending in if he ever decides to take it out into the woods. He's already beaten back two critters that had tried to get through the fence, so he's looking a little tousled and beaten-up.

He notices the stake with a raised eyebrow. "Is that all you have for a weapon?" The teen has a throwing ax and a few knives hidden on his body. It always pays to be over-prepared instead of under. But wooden stakes don't seem practical.

no subject

coffee shop;

Patrol

no subject

Coffeeshop

Patrol