nexus_sages | Entries tagged with dupes: yes

Bond never seems out of place anywhere he goes, no matter how much he doesn't match a usual crowd. Here's no different. He's also not usually one to talk to strangers - well, not about his actual life. He's recalcitrant to a fault when it comes to his personal business, what little of it he's ever had.

Waking up this morning had unsettled him, though. The weather was lovely. Madeline was already up. He had smelled tea and heard her moving around their flat. They hadn't spoken in a day and a half, though he couldn't actually remember why she was angry with him this time. It was probably something entirely justified. He'd still needed out of the house. It wasn't right.

So, he'd come here. He stood with his hands in his pockets, ostensibly looking relaxed. His eyes darted around, though, cataloging every person or - thing. He always forgot the strangeness of this, even though he'd seen many a strange thing in his lifetime. It's been a long time since he's come. His life has been full of strange things recently, or at least strange to him. He hasn't indulged many of his habits.

"What do you do when you're bored?" He drawls. That's not the best way to put how he feels, but - well. That's what you're getting.

brave_heart_verity

Verity's sitting on one of the benches around the Forum, all pink braids and French stripes and soft jeans, idly fingering a new ring and studying a brochure someone handed her. Not the Brochure, just a flier for a temporary costume shop. (Both the shop and the costumes being temporary, one of those things is very important when the other disappears.) The pictures are bright and cheerful, almost inappropriately so. This is a highly sanitized, 'safe' for 'children' sort of Halloween being peddled. Meanwhile, Bobbi sniffs around to check for changes to the area and signs of adventure. She's a pupper of valor and courage, ready to take on any strange sniffs and mysterious smells.

"Is your Halloween tradition to put a mask on, or take one off?" The question begins when she lifts her attention to the wider worlds and does the now-habitual mental and visual sweep of her surroundings. As casually as it's asked, she knows this is a deeply probing question, so she'll give anyone wary of answering an easy out. "You coming to the Ball?"

Current Mood: curious
Current Music: Mazzy Star "Fade Into You"

newtruths

"Gah!"

Loki sat up just in time for a small black key to bounce of his head and fall in his lap. He looked at it in bewilderment for a moment before it turned into a ring that coiled like a snake around his finger. When he stood he was rather on the short side, and thin as a rail. Really aside from overly large eyes he was rather unassuming. If you ignored the fact that he looked as if he'd walked off the set of The Lord of the Rings. And the fact that his garb seemed to constantly shift in cut and color.

Though as he took a little bit of a walk around and read a brochure someone handed my he slowly took on a more modern look that ended with a pair of ripped up and battered skinny jeans, the holes and tears in which seemed to be slowly wandering and meandering around his legs, and a faded old graphic t-shirt, the print of which apparently shifted every time one stopped paying attention to it. And no shoes! Because sometimes you just really don't feel like wearing them.

"I guess I didn't fall apart quite as badly as I thought I would," he laughed as he pocketed the brochure and fiddled with the ring that was a key minutes before. It shifted again as he walked. Now it was a small rubix cube, black on all side that he twisted and turned without really looking at it. And then it was a key again, which he flipped into the air and caught.

An idle Loki with nothing to do, no plots winding down, and no one to pester was never a particularly good thing.

He turned on his heel just in time to stop someone passing by. He holds the key out already turning into a puddle of liquid onyx in his hand and forming into something new. Something unknown.

"Tell me stranger, what do you see here?"

A simple enough magic was working here. A magical Rorschach test you could call it. Whatever the new target of his boredom thought they saw in the amorphous twisting liquid key would be plucked from their imagination and made solid. Sometimes they saw something they desired, money, their lost love. Sometimes they saw fears. Sometimes it was something from their past. Other times it was completely random; a bird, a shoe, a rock. Yes one highly uncreative individual once imagined a rock in the depths of a reality altering wrong magic spell. Whatever they thought they saw in this three dimensional Rorschach, would be plucked from their imagination and made solid in the palm of his hand.

prototype_infiltraitor

In the Nexus are many streets, roads, alleys and avenues. Some are bustling with activity, featuring beings of all shapes and sizes buying and selling and eating and entertaining. In this Everything Drawer of the Multiverse one can find almost anything or anyone they want or need, provided they are willing to look for it hard enough. One doesn't have to look hard to find the busybody that is Officer Steve Austin, however. With eyes softened just a bit, stray from the beaten path, down that less traveled way, known for its overpriced, out-of-stock, and/or sub-par offerings. Down that way, there is what appears to be a dusty old pawn shop or perhaps a gunsmith or perhaps an antique store, and if one looks close enough they might notice that despite its dilapidation and darkened interior, the venue is apparently not not-in-business. Or at least, it is not closed. From time to time a figure can be seen moving within, none other than the good Nexus Officer of the Law, tinkering with assorted and unidentifiable bits and bobs of mechanical nature.

A sign --in fact, the only sign borne by the shop-- too small to be seen from further than the sidewalk immediately outside reads simply, "Weaponsmith." Fancy that; Officer Austin must be moonlighting. Will anyone walk into his parlor?

hafuri_shinki

Without warning, someone emerges into the Nexus through a swirling portal of light.

The smartly-dressed young man, one-handedly adjusting a pair of dark-framed glasses on his nose as he walks, appears to be quite involved in paging through a book of some sort, hence not noticing that he is most likely not where he was actually intending to be. It's only when he finally looks up from the book--

"--I can't be sure as of yet, but it appears...that it...might..."

Yes, this is definitely not where he meant to end up.

He blinks slowly - once, twice, three times, absently taking a bookmark from his pocket so he can close the book and take a very good look around.

A brochure from a nearby table finds its way quickly into his hands, and while it doesn't really explain things to his satisfaction, at least it gives him a bit of an idea to work with. Now...a question. Which involves picking one out of the multitude swirling round in his head.

"...How - hypothetically, mind you - would one go about showing their appreciation to someone who was kind enough to take them in? Without overstepping their boundaries," he hurries to add the last bit, looking sour.

phoenix_descendants

A twin be here.

From the red ribbon on the ponytail, it must be Alisaie, and the soft, feminine tone of voice when she speaks proves it.

"...What are you supposed to do when someone you look up to...someone you trust seems to be betraying you, and everything you've stood for?"

Heavy question, yes. She thinks a moment, tries to find a lighter one for those not so doom and gloom-y inclined.

"What is freedom, to you?"

Okay, so it's not much better, but she tried.

brave_heart_verity

Guess who can't stop won't stop hanging out in the Forum? If you guessed 'Verity', or perhaps 'that weird chick with the pink hair', you'd be right. Enjoy your No-Prize! Today she's sitting on a bench she's cleared of the snow that never seems to stop falling, elbows on her knees and hands wrapped around an akhaccino. She's all bundled up, but some of that tell-tale hair is peeking out from under her hat.

"Is it worth knowing the future?" She never comes with less-than-heavy questions, does she? "If you could know for certain where your path was headed, would you want to know? Would you warn yourself of the crises ahead if you could send a message to your past self?"

There's a distinct moue to her expression if anyone can get close enough to see past the scarf and fur collar. It looks habitual at this point but gives way to something closer to a smirk. "Or if that's too heavy, let's talk about hats. Fancy ones, with silk flowers and things. Should they make a comeback?"

((Ver's got a truth-sensing curse stuck in her that she can't turn off. She knows when people are lying and she can see through illusions; she doesn't know what the truth is or have psychic powers. More details here.))

Current Mood: thoughtful
Current Music: First Aid Kit "My Silver Lining"

spoop4life

A strange large and somewhat cartoonish door opens up in the Nexus.

"Huh, well... I forgot about this door."

A young transparent girl floats through and looks around with large black eyes.

"This place doesn't look all that... spooky. I'll have to fix that."

Current Mood: apathetic

romeoinabox

It's not unusual to see people enter the Nexus through strange doors and today is no exception. Out of one of the many doors of one of the many buildings along the main street in the Forum steps a man in a tailored three piece suit and a matching fedora. He seems confused by the sight that greets him on the other side of the door at first, but it fades quickly to indifference.

"Denbe, I don't think this was the right door."

He turns and is this time surprised at the sight inside the building he came from. That is most certainly not where he came from and his ever faithful companion is no longer right behind him.

"Well now, this is new."

The man wastes no time in fully taking in his surroundings. The Sign ("What a garish thing, really.") is easily spotted and the accompanying brochure read thoroughly. Once that's done, he glances back at the door through which he came. It doesn't appear to be going anywhere, so he might as well take the time to ask a question. He can try to get back later, when the door feels more cooperative.

The Forum at large is greeted with a broad smile. "When life gives you metaphorical lemons, what approach do you take? Do you take in stride and make metaphorical lemonade? Or do you ascribe to the path of throwing the lemons back from whence they came?"

Current Mood: curious

shoulda_toined

(In the middle of your--yes, your--daily routine, you'll find a burrowing creature moving around the ground in your path, even places that don't logically seem to have dig-able ground.

Then, a gray human-sized rabbit...hare...thing--those of you familiar with Looney Tunes will recognize the creature as Bugs Bunny--pops out somewhere in front of you, takes a look around, and lets out a long-suffering sigh.)

(Sounding more bored than anything else:) Hey, wait a minute, dis ain't insert where I was supposed ta be headed here. I knew I shoulda toined left at Alba-koi-key. Aside glance.

(And then he looks in a different direction than before.)

(As if speaking to an unseen audience:) Gimme a break, there's only so many times a comedian can do a joke before even dey get sick 'a it, and I'm not feelin' da punchline taday. I got places ta be, and dis ain't one-a dem.

((OOC: Bugs has no fourth wall--and therefore has mod permission to know that he's in a Journal-Based Spooky Jamjar--and is fairly well versed with popular culture to boot. He won't give anyone existential angst or drop spoilers without player permission--it's not polite to do that, after all--but please let me know how comfortable you are with Bugs messing around with your character's perception of reality because other wise Bugs will start getting meta on you.))

Current Mood: tired

reedyserpents

A pale woman lies on a pile of ornate cushions somewhere in the forum. Her chest moved slowly with each breath as she slumbered, and she clutched a brochure that someone left laying beside her. She wore a long, silky, dress that matched the color of her coppery red hair. The dress was a little too long though. People who passed seemed to be tripping on it quite a bit. Not that it seemed to stir her from her deep sleep.

Perhaps someone should wake the girl and ask her to move? Or at least change?

((OOC: New here, with an odd muse. Taking a crack at a humanized sun goddess from silent hill Info link in her bio. So sort of an oc?))

Current Mood: sleepy
Current Location: the forum

red_room

Nat's in a more prominent spot in the Nexus today, with what looks to be a whiteboard stand set up next to her chair in the Forum. She's idly tossing dry erase markers while she observes the people coming and going.

"They say the new year is a time for change, and yet every year people aim so pitifully low. If you could change one thing next year....any one thing, what would it be?"

Inquiring minds want to know! Or, you know, one bored red head with too much time on her hands.

Current Mood: curious

hellburger

Kazuhira Miller has made himself at home at a cozy Nexus seating group. He pores over a spread of newspapers and magazines covering a plethora of universes and alternate Earth timelines. To one side, a text book on theoretical physics is opened to a chapter on string theory and a cup of black coffee has formed a puckered ring over Donald Trump's leering face on an issue of Time Magazine.

He lays his current paper flat on the adjacent coffee table, leans forward to rest his elbows on his knees, and loosely clasp his palms. "What's the strangest news you've ever heard? Or, if you'd rather: what world event would you say has affected you the most?"

Miller's head turns and points to a four-inch stack of glossy flyers. He sighs. "And ... while we're at it, when did newspapers become seventy-percent ads?"

smartass_captain

Jim's been spending a lot of time in the forum lately. You'd almost think he was avoiding his world or something. You know, because he is.

"Crew's asked to hold a Christmas party on th'ship. Went and got them the supplies they'd need, let them handle the planning of it. now they want me to make some damn speech."

Jim sighs and kicks a bit of snow into the air.

"Is it fucking awful that I just want to pretend this shitty holiday isn't happening? I'm going to fake enjoying myself for the crew's sake, and get the hell out of there."

((Thanks to a certain Winter Spirit's meddling, Jim's day is going to get an awful lot worse. There be angst approaching, you be warned arrrrrr!))

UPDATE: If anyone ever wanted to know what Jim Kirk's family was like, you're free to go on and poke Winona Kirk downthread and say hi. She probably doesn't bite.

Current Mood: depressed

sumarusfinest

There's something new in the forum of the Nexus. A few small bamboo--about average person in height-- have been placed in a corner of the forum in large pots. Sitting between the two plants is a small wooden box with several little tied and rolled papers tucked neatly into the little cubbies.

The Nexus' resident police officer is adjusting the display, intent on making it look just right. When he's got everything set up, he gives a satisfied nod.

"With the winter solstice, Christmas, and the New Year approaching, I thought it would be the best time to bring a bit of my home's celebrations here. You may hang wishes for the new year on the bamboo, or draw fortunes from the area here. What awaits you for the new year?"

((OOC: Nothing from Sumaru is what it seems. If your character believes in superstition and magic, they may find that their fortunes will have a real impact on their luck! Feel free to choose what luck your character gets, or to let me roll a random number to draw one for them. If your character doesn't believe in that sort of thing, they're still free to hang their resolutions on the bamboo. Happy Holidays folks!))

Current Mood: optimistic

fightlikehell

He has been this way before in passing, enough times around to get an idea of the layout. And there's so much more the senses can tell than just tapping the surface with a cane. It's just Matt Murdock, suited but casual. He still likes to dress snappy. It helps him to behave, a tradition that goes back to Saint Agnes.

"I know this place is for questions. I've taken my sweet time. Sometimes you know you want to ask but you don't know what or how." And then some. Matt has a lopsided smile for himself. "If you know you're best when you're occupied, what do you do when you need a break?"

adadlyfellow

One of the newer Nexus doors carries an ‘Employees Only’ sign, and right now it’s rattling in its frame. From behind comes the erratic crashing of toppling furniture. After a minute or two of this racket, the door bursts open dramatically and-!

A dad emerges.

He kicks plushie robots and soccer balls out of his path as he flounders through, flinging the door shut behind him. But that’s not enough! In a wild flailing and windmilling of his long limbs, he grabs nearby tables, chairs and a vending machine to stack up in front of it. At last he drags a large sofa in front of the hasty barricade and flops back against it, burbling gently in relief. He wipes his brow with a limp orange… hand, and then it sinks in.

Wait. Oh, no. This isn’t the toy store!

Swaying to his feet, he whips a couple of brightly decorated letters from inside his jacket. He waves them at the Nexus, burbling anxiously (yet oddly intelligibly). How will he find his kids the perfect Christmas presents now, he asks you?

[ OOC: For munly convenience, a quick rundown/place to ask questions about the octopus behind the mask. ]

inthesinbin

He'd been drugged.

That was Kilgrave's last coherent thought.

He'd also been choking on something dense and cloying in his mouth, gagging as it was pressed down his throat with sure, quick fingers. He'd tried to yell, to say something but then a syringe was in his neck and the plunger was depressed and he'd lost all the strength in his arms to fight back. It must have been a dangerously high dose, almost on the verge of lethal, because he'd lost consciousness barely a few seconds later, when all of his writhing and screaming had eventually tapered to a stop.

He has no sense of time or distance after that.

Despite the less than ideal circumstances of his departure, Kilgrave wakes up in the Forums slowly, methodically, waiting for the very last of the drug in his system to melt away. He's in no hurry – if they'd wanted him dead he has no doubt that he would be – and he needs his ability to be in full working order before he starts addressing anything else. Regain control. That's the order of the day.

After a few minutes of groggily staring at the sky, not quite able to move, he flops onto his side, his suit jacket bunched uncomfortably underneath him, the tips of his fingers and toes still slightly numb, his extremities in general difficult to manoeuvre and too far away. He digs his hands into the grass for purchase, gritting his teeth as he draws his legs up, trying to get his feet back under him. Some stumbling, the world tilting on its axis for a moment as he squints his eyes against its lurching, and, finally, he's up, wobbling where he stands, bruised and dishevelled.

Jesus, his head hurts.

Will be for days, he imagines, as he presses the heel of his hand against his temple, rubbing in quick, sharp circles.

“This is getting old already,” he mutters, scowling as he orients himself. He turns on the spot, searching for a landmark, anything remotely familiar to clue him in on precisely where he is. There's nothing. He doesn't recognise any of it, even the air here feels different, and all he has to welcome him is the loudest sign he's ever seen in his life. If he could tell it to shut up, he would.

“Oh, good. Nice. Just leave me in the middle of nowhere. Why not? Is this your idea of stopping me, Jessica?”

His snarl melts into a more general concern – if there aren't any people here, he's more or less helpless – and he lets his hands drop limply to his sides, breathing a heavy sigh. “Bollocks.”

[ooc: the deal with kilgrave and what he can do.]

Current Mood: groggy

juststeverogers

Steve's back in the Nexus forum today, and while he's a usual face among the crowd there---sketching or people watching and the like--today he looks to be in particularly high spirits. He's got a pad of lined paper in one hand and pencil in the other.

He's making one of his Lists. These are very important, don't you know.

It takes a while for him to stop wandering in circles talking to himself before Steve seems to realize why he'd come to the center of the forum in the first place. He taps the tip of his pencil against the pad several times before he pipes up.

"Does anyone have any advice for moving to a sixth floor walk up? Or moving in general?"

Current Mood: productive

brave_heart_verity

Everyone's favorite ~~red~~ ~~pink~~ purple-haired sass mouth is back. Not that she ever really left, but this time, she's the one with the question. Her wardrobe hasn't deviated much from what it's been the last few months: long sleeved black tee with white stripes, black pants, black pumps, jade disk necklace, epic Viking braids. (She's got a look, okay? And not just that one with the eyebrows.)

It should also surprise exactly nobody that she's got a cup of coffee. The surprise might be that she's looking less weighed-down by the world, or maybe that the black circles under her eyes are fading. She looks almost calm, tucked into one corner of her favorite comfy couch. "How do you know when something's right? A situation, or a relationship? I think I've finally found a good place in my life, but I want to be sure I'm not just settling again."

((If you don't know about Verity's powers, please read up before jumping in.))

Current Mood: thoughtful
Current Music: Keaton Henson "Petrichor"