nobody likes kate kane (
gevurah) wrote in
exsiliumlogs2013-03-22 03:34 pm
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( open )
Date & Time: 22nd to the 24th
Location: a synagogue in the city
Characters: Kate & whoever else volunteered to help and/or anyone who wants to see what is going on.
Summary: can we fix it? I hope so.
Warnings: ???
The exteriors of the synagogue aren’t too shabby surprisingly, but the main door needs a good push before it can be shouldered open properly and it creaks loudly as it swings on its hinges. Bits of the walls outside are chipped and discoloured, slowly but constantly being eroded each day in the never ending rainfall that blankets the city.
Inside the building is still as cold as it is outside; windows missing entire panes or broken bits still clinging to the frames, still sharp and dangerous enough to cut deep into one’s flesh if they’re not careful enough. Wherever the windows are, cold wind blows in, and the floor beneath the sills are damp and around the edges have some mold growing. There’s also pieces of glass laying on the floor.
There’s dust and broken bits of wood everywhere. Wooden beams that are supposed to support the building lay half rotting around the building. Some of them are in the way if people want to go further into the building, so they’ll need to be carried out outside by a few helping hands. The air in the building is stuffy and unpleasant, even with wind passing in every now and then.
Honestly, it may feel more depressing inside the worn down building than it does outside in the rain that never ceases.
( ooc: feel free to tag in however as you like! characters can work together, do their own clean-up, take breaks, whatever you want. )
Location: a synagogue in the city
Characters: Kate & whoever else volunteered to help and/or anyone who wants to see what is going on.
Summary: can we fix it? I hope so.
Warnings: ???
The exteriors of the synagogue aren’t too shabby surprisingly, but the main door needs a good push before it can be shouldered open properly and it creaks loudly as it swings on its hinges. Bits of the walls outside are chipped and discoloured, slowly but constantly being eroded each day in the never ending rainfall that blankets the city.
Inside the building is still as cold as it is outside; windows missing entire panes or broken bits still clinging to the frames, still sharp and dangerous enough to cut deep into one’s flesh if they’re not careful enough. Wherever the windows are, cold wind blows in, and the floor beneath the sills are damp and around the edges have some mold growing. There’s also pieces of glass laying on the floor.
There’s dust and broken bits of wood everywhere. Wooden beams that are supposed to support the building lay half rotting around the building. Some of them are in the way if people want to go further into the building, so they’ll need to be carried out outside by a few helping hands. The air in the building is stuffy and unpleasant, even with wind passing in every now and then.
Honestly, it may feel more depressing inside the worn down building than it does outside in the rain that never ceases.
( ooc: feel free to tag in however as you like! characters can work together, do their own clean-up, take breaks, whatever you want. )
open; any day
She knows the layout well. She knows the hidden openings that even a direwolf may fit through. By the time she makes it to the main sanctuary her hair is more gray than brown. She has little paths clear for her wolf to walk safely. The glass from the floor she collects into a careful pile; a few pieces she hides for herself.
When she tires she reclines against a wall. The wolf is her only constant company, alternating between napping and helping. ]
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[But she's quietly trying to help, and at the moment she's carrying a small pile of stones with some mostly intact pieces of glass on top. She's about to turn a corner when she nearly runs into Arya, taking a quick step back and rebalancing before she drops anything.]
Excuse me.
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[She shifts the things she is carrying lightly, and after a moment...]
Do you need assistance with anything?
[Her voice is still as quiet and empty as anything, but she's trying.]
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Heads up. [ She calls and tosses it lightly in her direction. ]
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Thank you.
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Man, this place is busy.
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[ Someone else perchance. But she has been taught to to look past distractions to what is truly there. He's familiar and it takes her a while but she finally decides who he is. Her expression doesn't change. ]
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Open
His sketches show years of practice and skill, with clear descriptions and easily understandable symbols. Here and there a word doesn't match up with English, and his handwriting can be a little difficult to decipher at first.
Bother him at any point, yes/no?]
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[ Have (1) child. Bothering. ]
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Hello, Cat.
[Kneeling down, he points at one of the cracks closer to the floor and speaks in a matter-of-fact voice without a hint of patronizing.]
I didn't tell you before; I used to be an engineer. I have to see how extensive the damage is and everything that we'll need before I can begin to repair anything.
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Pretend I said support column instead of load-bearing beam
NO. jk jk :')
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Open
Presented with the sight of a number of people working on this dreary looking fix-up job of a synagogue, Coby simply watched them work, curious. Though he held no opinions, it wasn't as if he couldn't develop any. If anything, he was just wondering what project was going on.]
open, whenever;
It's been a while since Allen's had something he could throw himself at completely like this; something that's for an indisputably good cause, that's an excuse to put himself to work and make himself useful. He knows they can restore this place and make it a proper house of worship again, and a shelter for those who need it, and it can't be finished soon enough.
He can also be caught on lunch breaks, sitting in a dry spot, eating a sandwich or ten.]
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But first just in case-- ] Which are you?
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Miss Cat! [Allen breaks into a smile, giving a little wave. Though the question throws him off, for half a moment. Right—]
Allen, I'm Allen. Everything's gone back to normal.
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open
So without saying anything, he walks into the place, glances around, and figures he can start hauling beams.
Bucky doesn't mind the cold or the wet that comes with it, so he takes off his jacket when he starts moving beams. He likes the jacket; it's nice, made of leather. Not the kinda thing you'd want stuck between shoulderblades and rough-hewn wood. He's a strong guy, well-built (in the case of his left arm, literally) and he doesn't have much problem trouble things. But the beams are long and unwieldy, so, uh, good luck with that, Bucky, and anyone within a five foot radius. ]
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Careful there, you'll knock someone out.
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Sorry.
[ And he means that. But… ]
To knock someone out, I think I'd hafta try.
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Sorry.
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I can't see in front of me too well. This thing keeps getting in the way.
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After she tosses some of the smaller bits outside in a pile, she gets to the broken glass by the window sills and sweeps them aside and out of anyone's way. Occasionally, the dust earns a sneeze or cough here and there.
Two and a half hours go by for she decides to take a break. She can be found in a corner of the room, just sitting at the edge of one of benches and browsing the network on her tablet. What great reception they have out here!! ]
[open]
He'd done it yesterday. He can do it today. Dick Grayson can do it today.
He's not big enough to help with lugging the larger pieces of wood, so hood drawn up and tools in tow he picks a spot up on one of the window sills inside. It's easy to chip away at the brittle glass, tugging the sharper pieces until they come loose enough to let drop carefully down on the floor below. When there's a pile he'll hop down and sweep, dust and glass and a thousand memories that don't belong to him. ]
pls forgive the tl;dr
it'd been startling, the late night return to normalcy, enough so that she'd jarred awake and fallen off her own bed in the confusion and disorientation. Small favors, she supposes, for the fact she'd convinced Caesar to stay where everything was comfortable for her, knowing it'd be all arranged for the level she operated out from, but it'd still taken her a moment while lying twisted in sheets and half sprawled on the floor to realize that the things she was and weren't feeling were back to normal. Natural. Completely herself again.
She tells herself the reason why she's on foot like this and inserting herself back into the fabric of Exsilium is because a week away was enough to start losing touch. Terri is hard to pin down by the nature of what Collette needs in order to juggle everything she keeps up in the air. Terri is also the escape she won't admit to, in between quiet conversations and moments in alleys where her thumb presses down on the dial of her stopwatch and she goes from blonde to herself and back again. Terri was just information. She was a vehicle, a personality that had been cemented because Caesar needed the help, and Collette needed Caesar's help.
That's all. That's why Terri needs to be invested in the community, because she was meant to be a part of it in a way Collette wasn't. The false sense of belonging, illusion that it was, still had an element of comfort to its hollowness.
She wasn't aware of this effort being Kate's at the outset. Murmurs among people on the streets and an offhand comment from a group of the younger exiles had piqued her own curiosity, sending Collette wandering to find the place being talked about. Construction was always of interest to the Exiles, people used to rebuilding time and time again. Construction on a building that in and of itself had connotations for beliefs and ideas lost in the fogs of time, thicker than any fog rolling in off the Thames, was a curiosity. Where was the profit? The benefit? Who was possibly doing this?
A handful of others more curious wandered close, one or two poking their heads in, wandering as if they might also offer a helping hand. It's once she's there that Collette recognizes one red head in the area -- Kate. She'd mentioned something on network, hadn't she? Renovating something, rebuilding something, one or the other.
Collette stops, looking around. She's not the only 'exile' to wander in, though she is one of the first to step in and offer a helping hand. She's smiles and pointed questions, asking where and what, avoiding coming to close to anyone she recognizes. Caesar's not here, nor would he be -- she thanks his own laziness as something that keeps this act easier to maintain.
Dick registers as someone young and little else, pinging on Collette's radar for little more than that reason alone. Young tends to mean easier to approach; even now, without a specific goal in mind, she prefers to sidestep around the adults she's outwardly closer to in age. This was a distraction, and she didn't need ti to be anything more than a place to be and an obtuse way of helping people who she cared about. Like Kate... even if she hasn't said a word to her quite yet. )
Think you could use something like this for what you're up to?
( She settles on asking, holding out a worn, woven basket, glancing down to the second small collection of broken glass pieces being slowly collected on the floor. )
Might save you a little on the clean-up effort witht he larger pieces.
no never cradles all this tl;dr
He schools his face away from any signs of recognition, then tries with a little less success to hide the grin behind his sleeve while he makes the short leap down to the glass-strewn floor. Now that she's pointed it out, it does look pretty bad from here. Worse than it had when he'd started twenty minutes ago. ]
I mean, um. Yeah. I don't know what I was thinking. [ He rubs at the back of his neck sheepishly and shrugs. ]
I just figured I'd sweep everything up at the end, but I guess I'm just making a mess where I don't have to.
<3 thank you for your patience and tolerance
/twirls
<3
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open
Only after a few people have gathered inside does he make his way to the entrance. The front door sticks until he puts his shoulder to it and then it abruptly gives way with a groan of its hinges, leaving Connor to stumble in, robed, hooded, and carrying his usual assortment of weapons. Ducking his head, he makes a vague motion at the door (probably handgesture-ese for 'the door needs fixing, too, though you were probably already aware of that') before heading toward the group.
He volunteers to help with the jobs that require heavy lifting and climbing. All business, he sets to work immediately after general plans are drawn up. He pretty much keeps to himself as the hours pass, save when repairs require teamwork.
Breaks are short and spent looking around the synagogue or resting in high spaces. The synagogue seems to be a religious building of some kind, that much is apparent to him. He's learned a little about different religions over the years, but the specifics of others' beliefs have never much interested him. Still, he recognizes the value of any place that offers a safe haven to others or helps foster a stronger sense of community.]