[Anniversary Event Starting Log] I Awaken To Another Day...

[thepull_mods]

Who: Open Log! This means everybody!
When: September 1st, 1918. Dawn.
Where: Farmer Whitty's Squash Patch, City of Missionworth (Ye Olde... Baseball Diamond?)
Summary: Midnight on New Years Eve finds the entire Newcomer Community thrust backwards in time...oh, 95 years or so?
Warnings: A lot of potentially drunk people are about to land facefirst in a field. Once word is out that a small horde of strangers have mysteriously arrived on the island, Military Forces will be rounding them up for questioning. You be the judge of how badly this goes.



Whether right in the middle of a rowdy parties as toasts are raised with complementary champagne, or having a quiet evening at home on the couch, watching GloTV's annual Auld Lang Syne Countdown Extravaganza, a sickeningly familiar tug of a feeling suddenly wrenches in the gut of every Newcomer on the island who has been brought here by Pull in the past three years.

As fireworks sound over AGI tower and the clock finishes striking twelve, the world spins. For a dazzling colorful moment, flashing scenes from their stay in Port roll backwards like rewound film before their eyes. It becomes a blur, the Pull drawing tighter and tighter, ears might pop and there's a very good chance the contents of their stomachs might be turned out.

And then there is coolness, a brisk breeze, morning dew and damp earth beneath them all.

The newcomers are scattered across a planted field of winding vines and colorful gourds, which won't be ready for harvesting for another month or so. Several startled crows are circling overhead, screaming. There are no tall towers on the skyline, and there are more surrounding trees, particularly toward the western horizon- golds and oranges of early autumn.

To the east, a picturesque early 20th century settlement stretches to the island shoreline, already bustling with traffic and construction in the early dawn's light. There is no putrid, sick-sweet rotting smell which normally lingers for awhile in the morning fog, after the lifting of darkness.

Two young boys stand agape at the edge of the field for several moment, leaning over a fencepost, then turn and tear off towards a homestead not far away, shouting for their papa.

Welcome to the City of Missionworth. Look's like The Core's decided to give you all a history lesson for the New Year.

Comments

Open

[icy_heavens]

It had been nearly a year since Hitsugaya had felt the Pull sickness. Frankly, he could have done without it. One of the perks of being shinigami was that you were largely immune to illness. The Pull messed with that, and he hated it.

At the very least, he wasn't a drinker, so he was probably better off in that regard than a good deal of the more festive Newcomers that seemed to have been carted along with him.

He forced down the nausea, pushed himself to his feet. And he ensured that Hyourimaru was indeed at his back as he took stock of the new surroundings.

Or were they new? There was something naggingly familiar about the area for some reason. He knew the city of Siren's Port nearly inside and out, so on some level that could be explained, but . . . This wasn't right.

He heard the sounds of two children calling for their father, but he paid them little heed. Finding out what was going on was more important than a couple of kids.

Just what kind of hell was the Core trying to put them through this time?

Open

[hikari_no_kundou]

The impact with soft loam and the more solid presence of ripening vegetables was jarring to say the least. For a moment, Eraqus lay stunned, body stiff with the shock of landing, before he winced and rolled onto his side.

It was not home (not that he would likely ever see such a place again in his afterlife time), but.. It was not the Port, either. Surely not - the world around him felt in balance with itself, lacked that caustic feel of the Darkness draining from the day. Rising to his feet was an unstead affair and hushed words under his breath preceded the flow of green-lit magic through lungs and veins. Settling the discomfort left behind by the twist and churn of arrival where...ever this place was.

Dawn, when it should have been the dead of night? Grey eyes squinted, making out other fallen shapes, and the rise of figures close and futher afield. Literally a field, no less! He did not call upon the Keyblade, not yet, and he did not need it on hand to sense familiar lights from familiar hearts nearby.

The faces closest to him were unfamiliar at best, save for recordings from the Newcomer Network -- such as the short but serious looking white-haired swordsman close by.

Eraqus frowned, then moved towards him with slow, but steady strides. "..I take it this place is unfamiliar to you as well?"

Open

[motioned]

When she first opens her eyes, she turns from the light, shielding her eyes from the sudden glow coming from the horizon. Once they've adjusted to the gleam of the sunrise, she pushes herself up, legs shaking. Wearing the dress she chose for Alice's party not minutes before, she's not in ideal attire for the weather, and the breeze causes a shiver. Combined with the unsteady feeling from the Pull, she can't stand more than a few seconds before she sinks back to the ground again, reaching for her mouth in an effort not to vomit.

In a few moments, once the sickness has passed somewhat, there's a new shade of clarity to her thoughts. She looks around and doesn't see the apartments staring back at her. As she turns, none of her surroundings are the same as the way she remembers them, though there's a similarity to the city she knows.

Before she can start wondering what happening and conjuring up possible explanations, though, one thought strikes her in particular: the boy she had just been with, of course. It's plain to see that he's not at her side. From where she's standing, she can't make out many individual faces, and she starts pushing through the crowd, not thinking to excuse herself. Politeness and civility aren't at the forefront of her mind at the moment.

"Fakir? Fakir! Where are you?"

With every moment that she can't spot him or hear his voice above the din of confused voices rising around her, the swifter, more desperate, and more panicked her movements grow. Her dress is damp by now, bits of grass stuck in her hair, a bruise forming on her leg from where she fell back down to the ground, but she can't be bothered to care.

Keeping an eye open for any other familiar faces or people who might need help, she continues to move through the crowd, quick as she can.

[uberboned]

Having Grace allows you many opportunities humans (and most other things) don't have. It allows you to know just about every single person in a given radius and probably their BAC judging purely on molecules. It also allows you to know when time travel happened, because time travel's not an easy thing, even for angels to pull off and Gabriel gets slammed with the sudden time displacement harder than most, because he wasn't expecting it.

The minute he shakes himself out of it, he hears Ahiru's voice and goes to her. "Kiddo? Kiddo. If you get yourself trampled, so help me-"

He sounds more desperate than angry. It's a big field, but there's a lot of inebriated and unhappy people around here.

Open

[treehopping]

Rue had been falling asleep when it happened. Seeing in the new year was a custom she'd tried hard to do but ultimately she'd started to drift off on the couch in front of the tv (the New Year didn't have the allure of presents that kept her up for Christmas), curled up in her fleecy winter pyjamas.

Now the sudden snap of dizzying, familiar feeling snapped her to wakefulness, accompanied by a feeling of dread that maybe she was being flung back to the arena, back to --

It was cold that greeted her and damp earth beneath her fingers. Rue sat up, hands going to her head as she blinked owlishly about her. She isn't alone, she can see that, other Newcomers are here too, some she recognises and many she doesn't.

"Katniss?! Peeta!" Stumbling to her feet Rue looks around nervously.

[tea_lover64]

Iroh awoke with a start when he found himself transported into the field. He had been sleeping himself, having no real significance to the date himself, and preferring a quiet night to one filled with partying. He had shared a pleasant evening, closed up shop earlier, and enjoyed an early bedtime. Sleep was very important, especially for a man his age.

His eyes take a moment to adjust, and then he rights himself up, alert and wary. It seemed as though there were a great many Newcomers around in this one field. Surely they couldn't have all been kidnapped by one of the companies? The only other possibility was the Core. It felt somehow different here, it was warmer then what he was accustomed to. He spies a familiar young face, and rushes over to her.

"Rue! Are you alright?" he inquired.

Closed To Alois

[littlest_lord]

There's nothing quite like ringing in the new year by landing face first in the dirt in the middle of a vegetable patch. Ciel had been bundled up in bed in his nightgown, a half eaten box of chocolates resting on his lap. Alois had been brandishing a bottle of champagne to pop at the stroke of midnight, standing up on the bed, determined as ever, he too in his nightgown for the evening. While nothing particularly fancy in contrast to other celebrations, there were small things to be thankful for. To be happy for.

It was when Ciel put the next truffle in his mouth however, that he felt as if he was going to gag. He felt himself lurch forward, stomach in his throat before the cool, damp ground and vegetation he found himself amongst, along with his chocolates now scattered, brought him to his senses.

Up on two wobbly legs he steadied himself, dusting his hands off as best he could, disgusted by the feel of dirt beneath his feet. That was soon to be the least of his worries however. No longer were there the lights and hustle and bustle of the 21st century. No...there was none of that commotion or rubbish - what he could make out vaguely in the rising light of dawn was a settlement that was more akin to what he grew up knowing.

...Just what on earth was going on?

He could ask questions later. There was something more important on his mind as he whipped his head around. Where was Alois? Cowering amongst squash somewhere? The last thing Ciel wanted was to be sent somewhere without him.

"Alois?"

[faking]

Ciel's voice is all he needs to hear to keep from puking. He's been dumped facing in the opposite direction, and what he saw in the opposite direction was the skyline of an old city— a city closer to what he'd know at home. That combined with cold dawn and farmlands was enough to send him into quite the pretty paranoid panic; he was just waiting for a burn on his tongue and strong hands behind him. Eight legs and no heart, he was sure of it. Would he be falling into Claude's chest, or pushing against it? This alone had been enough to wet his eyelashes and make his chin tremble. I didn't want to go home, he thought; but also, I wanted to go home so badly.

But he feels no burn and he hears Ciel's voice— so perhaps this isn't England? He hasn't been dumped home? No, whisked away to somewhere else, and Ciel is here, and does know his name, and calls it with heart. Alois whirls, cold feet catching in vines and ankle bones knocking against some squash. "Ciel!" he calls back, sounding already like he's been crying, and stumbles shortly, crushing leaves until Ciel is properly in sight. He smashes a chocolate under heel, which is a relief, because where there's chocolate, so shall be Ciel. "What is this," he demands tearfully, knowing full well Ciel won't have a clue, and stoops down to reach for him. "What is this, Satan's fucking vegetable patch? What just happened, are we alive and real and..."

He can hear other people, but maybe they're just souls of the damned? Is hell a cute little farm with morning dew gone to frost on its crops? Maybe it's some really weird cosmic joke, like, they haven't been eaten yet since their respective demons are MIA, so they're waiting in a sort of purgatory salad or something. Either way, once 'home' is removed as an option, 'we're all dead we just died' is the first conclusion Alois jumps and clings to.

Open

[seaphonic]

This wasn't the first time Syrena had found herself damp and naked, suddenly dropped onto land. That didn't mean she was used to it. She would never get used to the feeling of her tail melting away, exposing two pale shapely legs in its midst.

Thus, Syrena found herself amongst a field of vegetables, still dripping wet from the sea as she grasped at her nude legs, pulling them toward her equally exposed chest. Only moments before had she been watching fireworks set off in the Darkness, curious to see what they looked like. It was New Year's eve, after all, and while that didn't mean too much to her, it was supposed to be a huge celebration for those on land. She remembered Dean mentioning it at Christmas, but she had never asked to join, simply because she didn't know what exactly it entailed.

And so, she had spent the night alone like she did most nights, keeping herself occupied beneath the waves. As long as she didn't think about it she wasn't lonely. Most of the time, at least.

For now, she wasn't lonely she was alarmed, wet fingers clutching at the pendant tied around her neck that Dean had given her months ago. It was supposed to protect, was it not? In such a sorry state she needed all the protection she could get.

hay gurl

[inthejunk]

Woah.

...Woah. There's a naked-! Oh, right, she's probably-and if he offers her his-then she'll be...naked. In it. No. No, he means she'll be warm inside his-yeah. Okay. Yeah. He's not going to need it anyway. They...this big empty field must have a nice warm cow to stand beside somewhere.

Besides, he recognizes this place. As much as he wishes he didn't. Because that means something is substantially fucked up at the moment. His apartment should be just across the way, where all of that big fat nothing is. Swell.

...Naked girl. Right. Okay. Right. He's got this.

"Hhh. Um. Miss? It's...Sirina, right?"

Open

[subject_seven]

New Years Eve had always proven to be exciting, Nana had come to learn. There were fireworks, people were always singing and smiling, looking so wonderfully happy. Of course she would enjoy such an event! There was nothing not to like.

Having recovered from the ordeal she had undergone earlier in the month, Nana was as good as new, sporting new limbs that worked just as well as the ones Papa had given her from before. She had been drinking a cup of gingerale, pretending it was champagne as she waited for the countdown with her family.

When she screamed one, however, Nana found herself spinning, landing suddenly in a vegetable patch in her fleecy cow pajamas. A groan later and she was up on her feet, looking around wildly for a familiar face.

"Uncle Raul? Pino? Emil?"

Just where was everyone? Why was Nana in a patch of vegetables! Maybe it was punishment for refusing to eat her vegetables the other day. How cruel!

[icy_heavens]

This wasn't one of the familiar faces Nana was looking for, but it should trigger recognition nonetheless. He definitely recognized her; the little girl who practically worshipped William.

Hitsugaya hardly knew how to deal with children. He was dreadful with them. But he supposed he should at least make sure that the girl was looked after. His posture was as relaxed as he could get it at the moment, but still straight-backed and military, his sword strapped across his back.

"Nana. Do you remember me? One of William's friends?"

Open

[axetrid]

"This can't be happening."

It was an exasperated exclamation as Astrid stood in in the vegetable field, arms at her sides. She had been ready to see how those in the 21st century rang in the new year only to find herself face first amongst squash and dirt. Definitely not the way she wanted to start off the new year.

Wiping her hands off on the jeans she'd been wearing Astrid began to look around for Hiccup and Toothless. After all, she couldn't have been the only one who this had happened to, right?

Right?

There were others up ahead, silhouettes against the lightening backdrop of the sunrise and so she began to walk toward them. Someone had to know what was going on.

Open

[ella_of_frell]

While likewise searching for familiar faces, or -someone- who knew what was going on, Ella caught sight of another girl approaching. "Excuse me -" She paused at the other girl's attire, hesitant. "You aren't from here are you?"

It was partially hopeful - if she was from here, maybe she could answer some questions. If not - well at least it meant someone else was from that place.

open

[seclusion]

The nausea is almost unbearable.

This isn't because of the sensation itself, wretched as it may be - rather, it throws Emil's senses off completely, his body gone too busy with his stomach to be properly hearing and smelling everything. That's the worst part for sure, a lurch and then a jumble of nothing discernible, and Emil's left gasping a little, quivery, on his knees and wondering what he's got clenched between his fingers. Come on, come on, clear your head! He tries to find his nerves, his white cheeks evidence of his desperate internal scramble; his face is turned down toward the ground, because he's afraid of accidentally looking at anything in his panic.

But his blindfold is on, he realizes, and that's the first step to getting his bearings. Once he's aware of that safe little strip of cloth, he brings his head up cautiously, and takes in a slow, shaky breath. That's dirt between his fingers. Rich, damp soil. It's making his flannel pajama pants cling to his knees and shins, too.

"What," he murmurs, trailing off, because this surely doesn't make sense at all. And the air smells so clean, and good, too. More like the air from home than the air in Siren's Port, but the dirt underneath him is definitely too rich to be from the Southern Plains... Oh, where could he have got to now? He's not even sure who he should call out for.

First order of business: stand up. He does so, wobbly and still quite white, before stooping a little to awkwardly brush off his knees. The wet earth stuck to his fingers only succeeds in smearing over soft fabric, though. Oh well. Now - second order: find out everything you can. He inhales. Smells like plants... He listens, too, as closely as he can, which is pretty close. There are definitely other people milling around here, buzzing, alarmed, but a little ways away yet. No familiar voices just yet, but at least there are voices, and that's definitely a good start. Weather is pretty chilly, which is another bit of evidence that this won't be the Southern Plains. So, he almost certainly isn't home...

But where does that leave him?

"He - " Ah. Still nauseous. Emil presses the back of his hand to his mouth for a moment, steadying himself, and then clears his throat and calls out, strong as possible, "Hello?"

He's the very picture of a lost child, and he feels terrible.

Open

[madeinoblivion]

Well... he feels a little sick, pulling himself up on hands and knees and gaping at the pimply-green pumpkin he hadn't managed to so much as bruise in landing on. But at least his queasiness can't all be blamed on Sirius Black's eggnog recipe?

I'm not dead, he tells himself, gulping back down bile and a slight panic. I can't be dead.

But he's somewhere else, somewhere very else... but at least, looking left and right, everyone he can see are all people he recognizes, all newcomers. Which means there's a very good chance he hasn't been separated from his friends for good. He looks around for a familiar shock of spiky blonde, and the black-haired blue-eyed girl he calls his sister, and Riku... which is almost exactly like trying to pick himself out from a crowd.

There's Ahiru and there's Alois, there's Yosuke helping up a girl who's naked (those wild, AGI new years parties?)

And then his heart considers, with a leaping hope- well maybe even the ones who have left before are here! Namine, Tifa, Sam... Maybe. Maybe? He completely ignores the dirt on his jeans and his hoodie, skimming the field.

Closer by, there's that boy he helped learn to use a microwave, not long ago! He's still wearing that blindfold, and... Joe frowns, realizing that's probably really tough, if you can't even see.

So he reaches out for Emil's shoulder, to let him know that's someone's there.

"Hey- It's me. Joe." As far as kindness goes, despite his darkness, he can be nice when he decides it really counts. That's why he's a Teen Titan, anyway, on some dull instinct that now and then you'd got to take care of people. He bends a little closer, and takes Emil's hand reassuringly. "You're okay- we're all okay...I think everybody from the network's here. It looks like we all got dumped on a farm? I don't really know what happened."

Open and Dorian

[ella_of_frell]

Okay wow, the feel of the Core pull was definitely something she could have done without for forever. The feel of the cool breeze on her face roused her, followed by the sound of children calling for their father.

A slow glance around showed that she was definitely not in her house. Definitely not in Frell either, for that matter. So that begged the question - where was she? No sign of Kyra, no sign of Dorian - but from the looks of things there were other people here too, so there was a good chance someone she knew would be here.

"Now where am I...?" She muttered, pushing herself to her feet to dust dirt off of her clothing. Maybe if she found a familiar face they could figure this out.

familiar face provided

[freeholding]

John spots Ella in the field while looking for Dresden, and as one of John's few friends warrants his attention for a while.

His jeans are damp at the hem from the morning dew, and his arms are tight around himself as he tries to keep warm against the cold. His eyes are bright and his ears are red. Canadian winters, Christ.

"Ella." He stomps through the field over to her. "Are you all right? Have you seen Dresden?"

open

[retraced]

A moment ago, Gilbert Nightray had been listening to the fireworks and carrying his sleeping young master up to his bedroom. The two of them had attempted to stay up and ring in the new year quietly in front of the fireplace, but the warmth had lulled Oz to sleep before the grandfather clock could finally strike the new year. The ground under his feet is no longer the soft carpet of the second floor, but rather the gravel and dirt of a familiar-yet-unfamiliar field.

The sensation of Core sickness is all too familiar, though.

He opens his eyes slowly, arms now empty, hands shakily propping himself up in the sea of other fallen newcomers and - squash?

Squash...

Wait, no time to ponder the sudden appearance of squash, no matter how fresh and un-darknesslike they look! He climbs clumsily to his feet and calls out loudly, "Oz?!"

[motioned]

As she's searching for a familiar face, she hears his voice cut through the crowd; there's a moment of doubt, but with that exclamation, there's nobody else it could be. So she starts to push through the crowd in the direction the voice came from, trying to ignore the voices swarming around her from the other newcomers.

Once she's made her way to him through the mass of confused people, some of them drunk, she reaches out from behind him to grab onto his arm. Her dress is damp, muddy in some places, and there's bits of grass stuck into her hair.

"Dad!"

(open)

[debtor]

[And there's a kid lying on his stomach in the dirt, wearing tasteful striped pajamas.]

What the hell!?

[That was the rudest awakening ever. All Allen knows is that he was sound asleep in his bed one minute, and taking a horrifying, mind-bending, nauseous trip to a squash patch the next. NOT AMUSED.

The last time he felt like this, he'd found himself on a baseball diamond in a new world. Did that seriously just happen again!?]

[cruelties]

You're still here. [Vincent dryly observes from atop a haphazard crate. He has even less to be amused about-- he's not wearing a shirt, only some pants that have been quickly pulled on.

Three guesses what he was doing before he got here.]

Darwin Watts - NPC - Open to All Single or Group threads!

[darwin_watts]

A toast to another year, having some how managed to get out of captivity and back to his normal hiding games, Darwin tipped back a shot with Sabine, his troll assistant who was as old as he was if not older. Welcome to the new year!

Only the pull hit him, yanking at the gut, taking him away from his world and into--

"No..." He gasped, leaning over his knees a moment and feeling queasy from the pull. He'd not felt that in some time. Not that strongly. The squash was a bad sign. As was the lack of city and everything else.

Only, he knew everything he was seeing here. Standing up, he saw a group of people around, all in current attire, but the land here was... "No. No. No, no, no!" his hands went to his hair, tugging it a little as he took hold. Eyes going large and he turned.

"No, this can't... this can't be." He was moving now, pulling his leather coat tighter around him, headed towards a patch of ground, hunting around.

"You can't do this to me! Not again!" He scrambled around, hunting for a hidden hatch. He knew it was here. He put it here with Winthers and their crew. Maybe it wasn't here yet. The farm near by was Whitty's farm house.

His foot hit hidden metal and stone making his heart go cold. No.

No. No.

Okay this was happening. And he looked like a lunatic. He was off to the side of the group of people, off at a space of squash farm and staring down at the ground and yelling at... something. "What do you want from me?! You son of a bitch! This isn't right! This never happened! What are you doing?!"

He kicked a squash and paced. Get a grip on yourself, Dar. What's going on here. This has got to be a dream. A really bad dream. I have too many nightmares about things like this. Happy New Year Dar, you are dreaming. Wake up! This never happened before. These people weren't here before. I recognize them. Most of them. Newcomers. This isn't right. What day is it? What year? Damn it, Core, what do you want from me!?

For those of you watching and want to talk to him, approach as you will. For others who want to run into him a bit later, he'll have started to walk, to the farm, to try and find some information. For now, talk to him a a group or individual.

[ella_of_frell]

Yeeeeeeeeeeah, this... was ... weird. Darwin's actions were certainly noticeable enough that even Ella had to stop and stare curiously, wondering if something was --- well something was /clearly/ wrong.

... what the heck was he yelling at? And talking about?

Ella padded slowly up to Darwin, an anxious look on her face. "Excuse me -- are ... you alright?"

Open, and Dresden

[freeholding]

Mother of Christ, not again.

John was minding his own damn business, packing up the meager possessions he'd accumulated in the Tower apartment in boxes, ready to be moved to their new base of operations, when the clock struck midnight. He has little affection for rituals of the New Year, and there wasn't even an obnoxious disco ball in Times Square to follow on the Island, so when it happened, he was completely unprepared.

The first thing he notices after landing in the field is that it's fucking cold, and here he is in a tee and jeans, perfect for work around the apartment but useless in a Canadian winter night.

Though... it's not arctic winter cold out. It's cold, but not like John's used to feeling in December and January...

Still. As soon as he gets to his feet, John wraps his arms around himself tightly and hisses, "Dresden. Dresden, are you here?"

He could really use a fire mage right now.

[forzare]

For a moment, Harry had thought that the reality-bending, stomach-churning act of unnatural metaphysics (lovingly called The Pull) that had brought them to the Port in the first place was a singular act, never to be repeated unless under certain circumstances. Then he found himself toppling ass-over-teakettle into a field, and was thankful that this time, he didn't wind up swallowing dirt. It does skin his palms when he throws them out to break his fall, and it does slap him in the face with chill.

He can hear John's voice a few feet away, and utters a groan that might contain a few choice curse words as he rights himself, the world and stumbles to his feet. One moment: packing. Next moment: field. The world is a cruel child that enjoys mean pranks, and this is just another one of them. "Present and accounted for," he drawls, brushing his hands off on his pants. They're a little sore, but he rubs them together briskly (Mister Miyagi, eat your heart out) and puts his mouth to them - breathing warmth into the gaps with his words.

"Marcone, get your ass over here." There might be a glow springing up from the cracks in his hands - a simulated heat. Harry is just as cold, but he cradles light and heat in his hands and goes hunting for his partner because the poor bastard is in a t-shirt and no jacket.

Open

[makeflowersgrow]

Eponine had taken Jesse at his word. That $1000 had given her the best, most indulgent day she had ever had. She'd been to a spa, had her first ever massage, a haircut - even had it properly blown dry so that it fell neatly in soft waves instead of her usual tangle. She'd bought a dress - the most expensive, lovely dress she could possibly find - and a bottle of champagne.
This New Year, she wanted to spend alone. It had been a long time since she was truly alone, and with her arm in bandages, and still hurting her a LOT, she didn't feel like going out. She sipped her champagne straight from the bottle; she'd forgot to buy a glass.
Which was why, when the pull came, she was clutching her bottle.

She lands with a slam on the floor, prostrate on her stomach on the grass. At once, she gives an agonised scream and pushes herself onto her back, cradelling her mauled arm. She had landed on it, hard, and it had, naturally, hurt.

Eponine shuts up quickly though, and looks around in confusion. Where is she? She staggers up to her feet, looking for a familiar (preferably friendly) face.

Eurgh, she feels sick. Alcohol, all whizzed up with her, and the Core effects - and the pure PAIN from her arm. She sits down again, quickly, coughing, and turns her head to vomit on the ground next to her.

[likepaleglass]

"It does twist at the stomach, doesn't it?" The words were more statement than question, and belonged to the man not standing far from her. Although he didn't look perturbed at the vomit, he wasn't exactly looking at it, either. He was a dark-haired man with a lean, bony face, a dark jewel dangling from one ear.

He squatted down beside her, reaching for the bandaged arm. "What's this?"


((ooc: Howl can heal her if you'd like -- or just take some of the pain away if you'd rather he didn't.))

Open!

[upstairsbrain]

[ Sam went to sleep on December 31st and woke up the next day as a different person.

Well, not a different person, exactly. Suddenly, he's standing in the middle of a field, stricken and startled. Because last thing he remembered he'd been strapped down in the panic room with Death stuffing his miserable soul back down his throat. And this? This isn't anywhere he recognizes.

First thing's first. He has to take a moment to appreciate the world again, to take a long, deep breath of the night air. How had he managed to keep the soul out? Or, what had gotten in the way? He thinks briefly of Castiel, who'd been against it, but he knows the little angel that could isn't stronger than the Horseman. So, what then? He'd felt the agony of having those broken shards of a person returned to him, and here he was now, in a complete different place.

Next step, pull out the phone, figure out his coordinates. Which he does, except... it's not his phone. It's something he remembers from... a year, a year and a half, ago. It's the NV, the little device he'd used to communicate back in Siren's Port. Suddenly, the memories of the place flood back into him. His parents and Jo, alive. Chuck revealed as the long-lost lord. Castiel devolving into the Leviathan. Prue.

And he feels nothing, nothing about any of those things. Chuck and Cas, though-- his memories remind him pointedly that, when he'd remembered jumping into the pit, he'd spoken with them. They'd both assured him that though it came with a cost, he'd be saved from Hell. In Sam's name, he's vengeful, pissed at people who were supposed to be the guy's friends who hadn't let him know that he'd be spending a thousand years roasting.

In his own name, he thinks of it as a bonus, not a cost. And his lips upturn, slightly.

So... what to do now? ]

[fightswithpurpose]

[Nelliel may not be an expert in human history, but it doesn't take her long at all to realize that the technology is considerably less advanced than what she's grown accustomed to in Siren's Port. She does what she can to try to shake off the disorienting feeling of being pulled by the Core. It's been some time since it previously happened to her, and she still remembers the sensation all too well.

She pauses and notes Sam there. Although she's never spoken to him personally, she does recall seeing his face over the NV network before.]

Are you just as confused as I am?

Open

[moveslikestrider]

The pull felt a lot like a bullet punching through his stomach. Dave knew that feeling and it was confusing to feel it again. As things wound tighter and tighter he caught scenes of his time in the port. It didn't spell good news.

It was the silence that made him realize something was wrong. With the pull came a sick feeling but he rode it out as he climbed to his feet, plants brushing against his jeans. He ejects a winter coat from his sylladex with a muttered word. As he pulls it on, Dave takes in the scenery. The cold bites at him but he ignores it while taking his winter gear out of his storage space tech. Before long he's trudging through the squash patch, moving with a sense of purpose as he looks for other people.

He's not dumb enough to call out when he doesn't know where he is. But to get anywhere he's going to have to. "Hey! Who's out here? Give a shout and if you need help shout a little louder, I'll get to you." Never a dull day in Port.

[seclusion]

"Yes? Hello?"

Here comes someone quite small, stumbling over vegetable vines and leafy greens. He's found a stick, thank God - thin, but long enough to work as a makeshift cane. Not the sort of cane one uses to lean on, mind you; he sweeps it along the ground, poking and prodding at squashes to steer himself away from, as a blind boy would with a white cane. This is appropriate, since he's blindfolded.

Never mind that, though; he's nearing Dave, and pale, though this is from the cold rather than the shock. That he's been more or less getting over all right. He's got farm soil smeared here and there on him, but he looks okay otherwise, even if his sheep print flannel pajamas are kind of goofy.

"I heard you asking if anyone needed help," he says, finally halting a couple of yards away, "but I thought I should check if you do too? Also, I'm kind of turned around..." A little shrug. "I was trying to find someone and lost my way from the edge of the field. Would you mind telling me..."

Open

[likepaleglass]

He'd been in the middle of a drink, frankly. Alone, murmuring a tune in a language filled with consonants, the soft, thin thread of it filling the room. Coming to the end of it he'd smiled, lifted his glass to drink . . .

And then yank! And there went the world again, shoving him out of proper time and into the dust of another.

Annoying.

His eyes flickered briefly to the shrieking, fleeing boys, but couldn't say he blamed them, exactly. Magic -- or whatever this business was -- should stay in the sights of the people that understood it.

First things first. He rose from the dirt, dusting off pants and hands alike. Digging into his jacket, he produced his NV (which conveniently doubled as a mirror and fortunately still existed), checking face and hair for flaw in the fall.

Second things second. One hand extended, he tested: Pale sparks danced between his fingers, across his palm.

All right. Both matters of importance in place. Only then did his attention veer to the fact that he was not alone, taking in the field of unfortunates around him, then the screaming crows overhead.

Nice touch. Very apt.

[thecatcameback]

Nearby, in a rather undignified heap on the ground lay a little blob of fur. At first it didn't seem to be moving, but after a moment Sissel rolled over, sat up and wearily looked around.

"What just happened... ouch..."

His mouth didn't move, but there was really no one else who could have said it. The little cat stood up and stumbled on his feet, dizzy.

"I guess it's not true about always landing on your feet..."

Open.

[aslandish]

[ The world shifts.

From the depths of the woodlands of Sector Seven, he senses it the moment it happens. Time, a stream of flux ever moving forward, quite suddenly turns in the opposing direction.

He lands on his feet, and the sickness passes quickly.

He knows where he is already, as well as the all-important when.

Ears flicking back, a soft rumble rises in his throat -- a rare note of displeasure.

To those who wish to approach him, there will be a great lion prowling away from the point of arrival. At some point, he will vanish altogether. ]

[therightchoice]

[ Jesse has no idea what just happened.

Waking up on the ground wearing only his pajamas and no shoes, Jesse barely stands up before he begins to shake from the cold. He sees a familiar face - and really, is there anyone else who is a talking lion? Jesse doesn't think so.

He walks up to Aslan slowly, mindful of where he puts his foot down. ]

Open

[capax_infiniti]

[Time is something he's theorized about, that he's planned around, that he knows at some point he will be master of... but for now, there is little he can do.

He can still sense the difference of the feeling of the pull... keybearers were permitted minor time magics in a sense, but this was on a grander scale, of the sort he had long looked into, researched, attempted to dissect and know. Actual travel... and the change in surroundings only confirms that.

A grin as he looks around. Time to begin to understand when they are and why they have been sent there... and just what can be learned and turned to use.

Time to see who else he can find... allies are precious and few now.]

[madannoshashu]

[ He's not master of time, by any means, but he is a master of space. Thus, the bend and twist of the elements, so bizarre and unnatural, register quite clearly.

He arrives on the field, clad in the usual dark coat and hood. It only takes him a moment to locate the old man. ]

Blaine and Kurt [Also Open]

[mediumdrip]

They had been at the party, surrounded by gold and music, about to kiss each other in celebration for the next year, the year they would end up married.

When suddenly they weren't in the room anymore. They were out in an open field, surrounded by... the entire Newcomer community?

Blaine turned to look at Kurt only to realize that he wasn't right next to him anymore. This new Pull had separated them.

Panicking, he called out "Kurt?" he asked, and then moved to find his fiancee. They couldn't be in two different worlds or times. They just couldn't be. Except for the months that Kurt had been here without him in the beginning, they had always been sent home and back together. Kurt had to be here now.

He didn't even have time to worry about where they were or why they were all here. He could think about that once he had Kurt back.

[showbizpanache]

"Blaine! Blaine!"

Kurt wasn't quite as sick as some of the other Newcomers seemed--he'd been Pulled several times, after all--but he was disoriented and confused, having been ripped from his fiance's arms and thrown somewhere that he'd almost thought was home. Frightened, he scanned the crowd, eyes darting past familiar faces and otherwise before landing on the one that belonged to the man he loved.

"Blaine--" Relief swept over him and he ran toward Blaine, throwing his arms around him. It was fine now. Whatever situation they'd found themselves in-- They were together. Just like always. They'd get through it.

[meowingumbrella]

What's this?

[ Discord is not quite sure what just happened. It is definitely wasn't him, he barely has the power to change simple rooms all across the city, let alone being able to go back in time or transfigure an entire island.

So what gives?

He notices the two boys running off to their daddy, but he holds little interest. For once, he's more interested in what's going on, not being antagonistic. Well, if there's an opening to be as such, he'll take it.

He might have a more particular sight than others, with his mix and matched limbs, his serpentine form all coiled up and slightly bouncing as he walks around with a slight stomp to his step. ]

[brat_from_hell]

[Discord's appearance is too memorable to forget seeing on the NV network, even if they don't personally know one another well. He certainly stands out. Phibrizzo, by contrast, looks very much like any other little boy, with the exception of wearing clothing that doesn't fit what any of the other local children are wearing. Another thing that stands out is the fact that Phibrizzo isn't attended by an adult in spite of his small size, but he doesn't look the least bit frightened.]

The Core's really outdoing itself.

[If anything, he looks mildly annoyed.]

Open

[mikhail_in_me]

The nausea was almost too much as Teito found himself curled up in a ball in the field. He doesn't get sick very often, having a pretty quick recovery thanks to the god inside of him, so he has a hard time dealing with the pull sickness. It also has upset Mikhail who was stirred awake with the commotion and the sudden distress of his master. Trying to calm his stomach and his mind was becoming tough but he pushed himself to a sitting position.

He was clearly green as he sat there and looked around. "Frau..?" Where was he? Didn't he get pulled to yet another world? His voice started to get frantic as he looked around desperately despite the sickness. "FRAU!"

Open

[discretion]

[Worst. Anniversary. Ever.

Franz is already keeping a mental list of his list of grievances about this particular holiday season, but he had, at least, been enjoying a quiet moment with his lover away from the party hustle and bustle for their tradition of a New Years' countdown. That moment of beauty and intimacy fades like darkness in the light of early autumn dawn. He concerns himself instead with wiping the mud off his knees and trying to understand what exactly has happened.

Changes aren't so uncommon in Siren's Port, but an entire location change? Complete with that ever-present Pull sickness just for kicks.

But it's beautiful here, almost painful to Franz as he has a look around, actually ignoring the mess his fine suit is getting into as he does. He can smell the sea. Memories tug at him, in his heart and head, and he swallows hard. All around him people are panicking, searching out loved ones.

And indeed, Daedalus is the first thing on his mind, before it goes into business-mode.

Shouting won't help. He starts doing a loop around the large group that have landed here, searching for anyone he recognizes or anyone who's hurt or in need of assistance.]

[Open, but expect Papa Sorel butting in.]

[graceful_cutter]

As the years past, Amy greeted the New Year quietly from her shared abode with her father, Raphael. But what she didn't expect was the sudden pull, not far from the sensation of the original yank into the world she now lived in.

When she felt her body hit the ground, she immediately felt the intense nausea wash over her. But there was something that stopped her from giving into that need to throw up. Immediately, she got up with a start. Despite being dressed in her nightgown with her curls loose, she didn't waste any time rushing through the crowd. She needed to find him. She mustn't lose him.

"Father!" she cried out, her voice the loudest it has ever been-- full of emotion not many would expect the quiet girl to have. "Father! Where are you?"

The rising sun was threatening to rob her of her energy, but she wouldn't quit. Not until she was reunited with her only most precious person in this world.

[draculalite]

He remembered the pull, all right. And he recognized the draining effect of the rising son, sucking all the energy from him until the slightest movement felt like a year's worth of effort. It took Raphael a moment to get up off the ground. Never mind the indignity of arriving here in his sleep clothes, though at least he had been up late in the library and so was wearing proper pants.

His thoughts weren't far off from Amy's upon arrival- the immediate location of his daughter. Who cared where and when he was, if Amy was parted from him?

"Amy?" he yelled. His eyes were starting to glow in the sunrise. "Amy!"

open!

[hejhej]

[Lisbeth rarely celebrated the new year. It came and went as she either watched TV or messed with her computer. This new year had been different and she'd actually attended a party. Except now she found herself hitting the ground rather hard, the wind and whatever buzz she'd had from drinking getting knocked out of her. She slowly gets up from the ground, looking around her.

Something about it felt familiar, but then it didn't. Something didn't feel right and as she glanced at the people around her - people she'd seen in the Port during her year there - were as confused as she.

This would be the last time she'd celebrate New Year's.]

[hostage]

[Seconds ago, Jesse had been across the city from the party Lisbeth was attending, having a small celebration of his own. Now he lands only a few meters away, and he's still so high he can't tell if he's seeing reality or if he's nodded off on the couch. He lies sprawled on the ground, stunned from the fall and trying to make sense of things while staring wide-eyed at the pale sky above.]