TEMPORAL TURBULENCE: STONEHENGE&WOODSTOCK

[initiatesnpc]

Date & Time: 3089 B.C./1969 A.D.
Location: Assorted
Characters: Anders, Anora, Castiel, Lea, Mukhari, Nathaniel, Raven, Roslyn
Summary: Group #1's adventures spent lost in time.
Warnings: Drugs and hippie nudity?? (notify Elle or Liz of anything else worthy of labeling)



The mission was set. Team members were given their equipment: The cloaking devices would acclimate to the area and disguise them based on the historical data pulled in. There was a weapons check: The Initiative was insistent about having those chosen weapons along for the ride. Four operatives were introduced as beacons: They would stay in contact with the Initiative and relay any alterations in plans until the mission was deemed a success. And it had to be a success, or disaster would be the only thing left.



1890 A.D.

There was a man, not very well-known as far as famous men go. A writer. His existence alone was not the significant factor in the timeline's disturbance, but his profession and his choice to tell a particular, peculiar story.

This man, the Initiative states, helped sow the seeds for modern time travel centuries before its prime. What was a captivating fiction in that man's time was the reality of today, and without his account of the Time Traveler, there was risk of the very existence of so much. The recruits absolutely have a stake in this.


To the export room — the massive, rather bare and bleak place where so many were to exit and put a stop to what was putting a stop to the writer's tale. It was as yet unclear, but the Initiative is certain they'll know it when they see it, that it will be revealed once their reluctant soldiers set foot on ancient soil.

One last check, one last insistence on the urgency of their task. One, final urging to avoid as direct an impact as possible without ruining their chances; keep your temporal footprint as light as you can.

Good luck. We're counting on you.


A flash, a bitten-back breath, a blink...The room was gone.

But this wasn't right.

Out of the many who were assigned, only eight remained. Eight, and an Initiative's operative, who was immediately aware of a problem. A big problem.



STONEHENGE, 3089 B.C.

They had made it to England, all right, but far too soon. This was an ancient place, so far lost to history the cloaking devices struggled to attribute safe disguises. It was a cloudy place in the timeline, where the things they knew about it were things they were going to know about it: Those nine lost people were to bear witness to things never remembered, but often fantasized, of a monument so wildly famous in the future.



WOODSTOCK, 1969 A.D.

The Initiative's attempts to recalibrate and move its soldiers to the right place in time had another hiccup, and the nine were once again off the mark. An overshoot — nearly a century too far and an ocean away.

Luckily (or unfortunately), their issued technology quickly recovered to suit the time it had ample information on. Beads, tie-dye, hemp, denim...There were mountains of books on this time. This place. This mother of all music events.

From Stonehenge to stoners. It was hardly the smoothest of transitions.

Comments

[stonehenge]

[vestigiaflammae]

[Grass, and... grass, and was that a hill or something over there in the distance? Lea stares around, jaw hanging open. This place....]

...Hey, uh.

[The only odor on the breeze is heather and dew. He's not sure if he can even smell smoke, much less a city.]

Is this... really the right place?

Re: [stonehenge]

[birdhousesoul]

[Anders clutches his cat to his chest with both arms. The cloaking device has given up entirely on Ser Pounce-a-lot and reveals him in all his orangey fluffy glory to any onlooker.]

[grimly:] There is no right place.

[He casts an accusing look at the Initiative operative.] I have better things to do than frolic in the hills. [like wash his hair. That would qualify as a better thing to do.]

[initiatesnpc]

[ This particular operative is fiddling desperately with his communicator, half turned away from the group—but he casts a disconcerted look back at that. ]

We— well, we've overshot the time period. I'm attempting to contact the Initiative now.

[ It doesn't seem to be going too well. ]

[vestigiaflammae]

So when are we now? [Lea hesitates, and glances around again.] And where?

... Looks like it's a long way away from civilization, any-

Hey, is that smoke? [He points north. There's something there, wafting up into the sky, all right; it's hard to see...] Maybe someone's already here!

[two miles northeast of the arrival site, in a Neolithic settlement]

[birdhousesoul]

[They've made their way to the nearest population center, such as it is: 'hundreds of small dwellings' cluster in the valley. The major landmark is a circle of standing timbers, from which a road of flint and gravel leads to the nearby river.

Two dwellings larger than the others stand apart, defended by a ditched enclosure, standing on a terrace positioned to command a view of the timber circle. As our ragtag band approaches, a large man in an ochre robe comes thundering out of the enclosure.

He shouts a lot of gibberish at them, shaking his long white locks.

Apparently, cats don't like him?]

Pounce? ...

[says Anders, uncertainly. The orange cat pours out of his arms and hits the ground running.]

Let me know if I should change anything!

[gained_a_level]

[ And an unassuming man in a well-used beige overcoat follows him, distantly sullen because leaving Dean behind wasn't his first choice. Then again, he hadn't had much of one.

Castiel draws himself alongside the one called Anders and frowns in confusion at the elder. He listens, memory of thousands upon thousands of years of humanity serving him well, but there are a few factors that play into any confusion he may have in translating. For starters, the man is far advanced in his years for this time period, an accomplishment in and of itself... and many of his teeth have long rotted out. He slurs, and some of his language seems less formal, more crass.

He's probably using some profanity. ]

He seems to find the diminutive size of your feline disturbing.

[ Turning to Anders, he attempts to explain: ]

Generally, they are much larger than a man during this time in history.

[noble_nate]

[Nathaniel had been trailing along behind them; definitely not trying to keep an eye on Anders, nope, not at all.

He nods his head in the direction of the elder.]

That seems a bit of an overreaction just because Anders' cat is small.

in which Pounce desecrates Woodhenge

[birdhousesoul]

[placeholder while I find info about neolithic felidae]

[birdhousesoul]

[Pounce scratched the sacred woodhenge posts! some of them anyway. Druids got mad IT WAS SACRILEGE and now Pounce is being held prisoner by druids in a wicker cage covered in mistletoe!!]

[Anders is none too thrilled, but ... there's nothing he can do. He can't attack all the druids. Justice is on the druids' side, because Pounce transgressed.]

[Night has fallen, and Anders has taken out his frustrations by shooting fireballs at a pile of wood they've gathered for the purpose of, well, making a fire. So there's a fire now. Anders is sitting beside it, being unhappy.]

I went all the way back to Amaranthine for him. I can't just leave him here.

hanging out with random Druids and non-Druids in the ceremonial settlement

[birdhousesoul]

[it's like Olympic Village for neolithic pagans we're conflating with druids because we like druids okay

like this guy



and this guy



you know, classy druids like that]

WOODSTOCK - initial arrival

[boughtabookstore]

[ Oh. Ros can't actually remember what they're doing or what's up with this whole thing by now, but judging by the frustrated irritation on the faces of the rest of her group, it looks like something's gone wrong again.

Huh.

But look, Woodstock! ]

My parents went to Woodstock! [ a beat, and then she looks slightly confused. ] I think. I'm pretty sure?

[discontented]

[ Mukhari is just as suspicious of this place as the last. He sticks close to Ros, hands in his pockets, head turning this way and that, looking all around. Looking at everything. Slowly, he starts to relax.

Huh. Well... it looks more interesting than Fuckhenge back there. And it sounds a lot more interesting.... In fact, it almost sounds like.....

And then he starts to get it. ]

Whoa. Is this a music festival? Please oh please tell me it's a music festival.

[feel_nevermore]

[First Stonehenge and now?] Woodstock?

[She rolls her eyes.] ...Thinks just keep getting better, don't they?

Sex, Drugs, & Rock 'n Roll

[noble_nate]

Nathaniel had found a relatively dry patch of grass, far enough away from the portable garderobes so as not to be overwhelmed by the stench. A sea of people surrounded him -- people who were caked in mud and wearing some of the strangest clothes Nathaniel had ever seen. Many of the women appeared to be wearing loose nightdresses and had wreathes of flowers in their hair. There were also, much to his embarrassment, quite a few people who were not wearing any clothes at all.

All around him were the sounds of singing, chanting, babies crying, and people engaged in intimate actions that in Nathaniel's opinion should occur in the bedroom, and not in front of thousands of people. Up on the stage was a band of long-haired, scruffy, men and women singing and making noises with various musical instruments in a manner that in Nathaniel's opinion should never, ever be classified as music.

He looked around himself, frowning. "These people came here voluntarily?"

[selfloyalty]

A man had touched her hair.

A complete stranger touched her plaits and without warning started undoing them. Had she been back in Thedas, the man would probably have lost both hands. But here? There was nothing she could do save for jerk herself away, only to have her hair fall completely loose and another stranger crown her with a wreathe of purple violets. A topless woman had drawn her in uncomfortably close, and despite getting herself away from that mess she lost one of her shoes in the mud, there was mud covering her ankles, and had she had access to a mirror, she would have been appalled to see her looking progressively more like these...hobos.

Anora was never one for vanity, but she did pride herself in both acting and looking the part of queen, and this? This was unacceptable. Long blonde hair out of her usual style, a bare foot, flowers in her hair...she didn't want anyone from home seeing her.

And of course, with that sort of mentality it was only inevitable she would run into someone from home looking the way she did. She stopped a few paces when she heard Nathaniel's voice, her eyes widening briefly before narrowing to show her displeasure towards the entirety of this situation.

"It appears so. Maker knows why."

[noble_nate]

Nathaniel tries his best not to comment on how disheveled Anora looks. He's sitting down, arms resting on his raised knees, trying to understand why everyone is cheering the band on stage.

If he'd had his cloak with him, he would have draped it onto the ground for her to sit on -- Nathaniel is nothing if not a gentleman -- but he has to settle for brushing the grass down next to him and patting it invitingly. "Quite a lot of them seem to be smoking some sort of tobacco; perhaps it's having an effect on their judgment."

open; dibs to nathaniel

[boughtabookstore]

[ Her memory comes and goes. When it's gone, she's relatively calm and peaceful, memories of a lifetime erased and replaced with those of a teenager with little experience.

When her memory returns, which is becoming less and less frequent, she's angry and demanding.

But now is one of the peaceful times. She's gotten high a few times while here, but at the moment she's sober, arms tucked around her legs as she sits on a bank and watches the crowds, a smile on her face. ]

Re: open; dibs to nathaniel

[noble_nate]

[Nathaniel's been concerned about Ros for some time now. Her moods seem to swing back and forth between her usual angry and somewhat guarded self, and bouts of peaceful periods where she smiles at nothing really and doesn't seem to bother about anything. He suspects it has something to do with the herbs she's been smoking.

Nathaniel has partaken in that ritual a time or two himself, and he's eaten a handful of some extremely disgusting mushrooms. The effect of those are something he has no desire to ever experience again.

He's feeling pretty clear-headed right now, thankfully, and he sits down next to her.]

Beautiful sunset, isn't it? [He gestures towards the layers of pink, red and orange hanging over the sea of people.]

[boughtabookstore]

[ Some things she remembers from time to time. The group has had to remind her of who they are a few times, but by now she's got them pretty well in mind, so when he sits down beside her she just smiles at him a moment and then turns her attention back to the sunset. ]

It really is. [ a beat, and then she manages to drag up the remembrance that they're on a mission. ] How's the mission coming?

Woodstock - Open; dibs to Nath and Cas

[feel_nevermore]

After refusing countless offers from long-haired people who wanted to braid her hair, make her taste strange substances or whatever other nonsense... Raven had eventually found a relatively quiet spot under a tree. So she sat down cross-legged in her favorite meditation posture and closed her eyes. Soon she was levitating a few feet above the ground and quietly reciting her mantra.

"Azarath Metrion Zinthos... Azarath Metrion Zinthos..."

Half an hour later though, her concentration was disturbed by the presence of other people abnormally close to her. She cracked an eye open to discover a dozen of hippies sitting cross-legged on the ground, holding hands, and looking up at her in a dazed kind of awe.

[noble_nate]

Nathaniel had seen several groups of hippies sitting around like this in various places, usually passing around some sort of device in which to smoke their mind-altering herbs. He was surprised to see Raven sitting in the middle of this group, though. And all of them looked as if they'd been hypnotized.

He approached the group with curiosity. "Uh, is everything alright?" he asks Raven.

[feel_nevermore]

"Everything's just perfect. Why do you ask?" Raven answered, voice dripping with sarcasm before she looked down at her 'public'. If looks could kill, they'd all be dead already. "Have you nothing better to do with your time than staring at me?" The hippies smiled and shook their heads in unisson. "I can't teach you to levitate in case that's what your hoping for. It takes powers none of you have." More oohs and aahs. Raven facepalmed and glanced at Nathaniel. "I give up. Please make them go before I send them all into another dimension."

the most belated of backthreads

[birdhousesoul]

Anders emerges from a very smoky tent indeed, the proprietor being one friendly hippie known as Moonshine who's been passing around something called a peace pipe. Peace is a good thing and a noble concept, and while Anders feels that justice often demands war, he can only agree with Moonshine and company that this blighted Vietnam conflict is certainly an unjust act of aggression on the part of Moonshine's oppressive government.

He ought to be more worked up about it than he is, he supposes. Just at the moment, everything seems hopeful and cheerful, and the much-amplified music from the distant stage seems to Anders a far more potent weapon than any bloodshed.

He sits happily on a not-as-muddy patch of ground (nearly everything's muddy to some degree or other), there to ponder life, the universe, and everything.

And to do those backthreads the mun has been talking about doing forever, where he gives loopy advice.

and an even belateder tagback!

[vestigiaflammae]

Lea is pretty sure he wasn't following the argument about whatever that war in the place with the funny name is. He has the feeling he should be worried that he can't even remember the funny name (Veesomething, right?) but he can't seem to muster worry right now.

Everything is pretty cool in this time. They even let him smoke! And his mom would skin him for a rug if she found out, but she's a couple hundred years and who knows how many worlds away, so Lea had said yes.

He almost didn't spot Anders leaving the tent, but the rustle of the canvas falling back into place caught his attention. Moonshine is nice, and his friends are funny, but Lea is not about to lose track of the people who he's going to be headed home with as soon as the Initiative figures out their time thing. He stumbles out after Anders, head spinning (it's got to be the light) and flops down cross-legged next to him in the mud.

"Hey," he says, and leans back, squinting at the sky as his vertigo settles.

AND I AM THE LATEST TO TAG /sob I forgot to hit this up

[gained_a_level]

Castiel has a habit of just being there and making his appearance known only when it makes one wonder just how long he's been observing someone who thinks they're relatively alone. In this case, he stands a short distance from Anders, head cocked to one quizzical angle, and asks:

"...You seem different." That could be the peace pipe, Cas. And lets face it, Anders to some degree also seems to be enjoying the festivities, whereas the angel seems to maintain an uneasy distance from it to an almost prissy level -- despite the filthy trenchcoat, he seems to have a dislike of getting mud on him. Or mold. Or sweat or, you know what? This place is pretty much a mess and it's kind of unsettling, so we can leave it at that.