beneath the stars came falling on our heads

[bumbles]

Date & Time: throughout September.
Location: various.
Characters: Donny Casey/Atlas and assorted unfortunate souls.
Summary: Going to be throwing individuals starters in, but slam me a pm or grab me on plurk if you would like a thread sometime during the month! c:
Warnings: I will add these as necessary!

( Donny's actually feeling pretty good about this month.


But we all know that's going to go up in flames so let's prepare the popcorn. And here is a sly link to his appearance page in case you need to know what Atlas' uniform is like, ohoho. )

Comments

medusalith boltagon → september 2nd.

[bumbles]

( It has been at least a few days since Atlas dropped by to visit Crystal, and while he doesn't drop by on arrival day in case she needs to deal with any new appearances, he does want to drop by soon to make sure that she's okay, that any new appearances haven't caused her any grief. Despite her living on the first floor, he's gotten into the habit of enjoying some ridiculousness in his visits to Crystal as Atlas. He's even just about gotten used to Crystal knowing about Donny as well as Atlas.

The ridiculous factor is why he's hanging from his grappling line outside the window, gently knocking on it. The backpack doesn't quite fit with the black and red of his uniform, the gold of his armour, but he needs a way to keep the cupcakes safe. This was the thing: he always bought cupcakes, and sometimes art stuff, and then they could talk about stupid stuff, and it was good. Turning up unannounced isn't usually a problem, but these kind of impulsive appearances are much more Atlas' style than Donny's. Donny always needs to check.

Anyway, whatever, he's just hanging upside down outside the window and waiting for his Total 4 Lyfe to turn up and let him in, no big deal. )

[medusalith]

( medusa is not so wrapped up in her own things to ignore the actions of her sister and those she talks with - rather she makes certain to keep an extra sharp eye out for crystal because of it. no harm will come to her sister so long as medusa is there to prevent it, emotionally or physically. atlas and donny are part of her ever-increasing skepticism, and watching them only makes her more suspicious. not about his intentions, although she'll get those out of him as well, but the purpose of appearing as two people.

which is why when crystal is out and medusa is in the room alone when atlas knocks at the window, she opens the window.

well, a strand of medusa's hair opens the window, because medusa herself is standing in the middle of the common room, arms crossed. )

Hello, Atlas.

[bumbles]

( That sure isn't Crystal. Out of-- something, politeness? Or curiousity, or maybe just because it doesn't occur to him not to enter Crystal's apartment -- regardless, he's flipping himself over and swinging closer, so he can sit on the window frame, as his grappling gun recoils.

But there's Medusa and no Crystal to be seen - he'd sort of thought maybe her hands were full so she'd just asked Medusa to get the window, but he still waves at Medusa, pointing to the nearest doorway, head slightly tilted. It's just a silent where's Crystal?, although there's still the friendly grin.

This is totally fine, one hundred percent fine. )

ahiru → september 1st.

[bumbles]

( The first of the month is a dilemma. He wants to be out there, keeping an eye on things, seeing if anyone turns up. To track down Marissa, if she appears, to warn people if Asteria arrived. The press and the panic and the chaos just mean that it's easier for people to get hurt, though, and as much as every Transport might want to be a the Hold on the big day, sometimes you have to suck it up and be in the clinic to help deal with the fallout of the monthly arrivals.

His sleeves are pushed up to his elbows, and Donny sighs a little as another patient who needed their forehead stitched up after a brawl wanders away, slowly easing off his gloves. It's going to be a long day, and he is embarrassingly hungry. Hopefully there are no impending bellygrowls. )

[quackery]

[Meanwhile, she's just come back from the courtyard where the new arrivals are filtering in; curiosity got the better of her, but she'll stay an hour or two later than she normally does to make up for it. She's hurriedly pulling her hair up into a bun as she walks into the clinic, and as she passes by, she sees a boy pulling off a pair of gloves. With a smile, she slows, addressing him.]

Want me to grab you some new ones? I'm headed that way right now.

[bumbles]

( He's a little more used to people talking to him in the clinic than in other environments, although he's really more for listening and following instructions, going where they need him to than really jumping in to conversation himself. It's entirely possible that Ahiru's worked the same time as him before and never really... heard him speak, except very quietly with patients. )

Um.

( Looking down at his gloves, and nodding a little. ) That um, that-- w-would be g-good.

( Le sigh. ) Thank you.

scott mccall → september 2nd.

[bumbles]

( So talking to Medusa left him thrown. It was weird.

The best way to deal with weird, when you're a vigilante, is to brood on rooftops and fight crime. He really doesn't like using his powers too much, in Exsilium. Not when the criminals are Exiles, at least, people who are scared and have reason enough to hate the Transports.

What turned into Atlas trying to diffuse a fight has really escalated into him being the target of the fight, and he's doing his utmost to just avoid punches and keep them from turning on each other again. It's a loud fight, they're drunk, and one of them just slammed something similar enough to a cricket bat into his shoulder that it hurt a lot. He absorbs it silently, but kicks that guy back, wincing internally when he realises the guy has crashed through some rotten wooden panels.

That's not going to do much for diplomacy. One down (temporarily?) and the other four might back off--- but they don't.

Awesome. )

[workout]

[ home had been almost disturbingly peaceful when scott left, and he was completely okay with that. mostly. what he wasn't expecting was the fact that the quiet didn't so much feel good as it felt numbing, the way it let him lose track of what was important, get lost in his own thoughts.

exsilium's quieter than the last time he was here, but peaceful definitely doesn't apply. he's not entirely sure if it's an improvement. case in point: the sound of wood shattering a few blocks away. it's loud enough to get his attention, and with a bit more focus he picks up on the rest. it's half instinct, half routine that makes him start towards the source at a run, and when he rounds the corner of the alley less than a minute later—

that's totally a superhero. the sight of a dude in a mask and flashy outfit is enough to stop him up short, expression mildly astonished. ]

Whoa.

[ which isn't so much the heroic arrival he'd intended, but it's enough to distract the drunk guys for about two seconds. ]

[bumbles]

( Atlas hadn't quite been anticipating more company. He - foolishly, he will admit this fully, later - assumes that Scott is actually the guy he kicked back staggering back into the fray, and the ground around where Scott's standing seems to buckle, before your regular ground mud is turning into something with an effect more like quicksand. Hurting people really isn't on the agenda, today, but keeping him from picking up more stuff to hit him with would be nice.

He manages to toss one of the other guys away from him, and at least that thug has the good sense to scramble away. Two against one is way better than four. )

arya stark → september 1st.

[bumbles]

( Cat hasn't been on the radar for the little while. Which seems weird - he's not sure if it's just because he had avoided her at the beach and they've just been missing each other, and he hasn't really caught up with Morgana at her place for a while, either. It bothers him, on some level, because he should be keeping better track, but there have been so many things happening and after getting back from the Reign of Terror, he didn't really want to think about much at all.

Spotting her on the city outskirts on his way to one of his safehouses isn't what he was expecting at all, and he stares for a few moments. The few moments are enough for him to realise, from his vantage point, that there's a collection of Exiles aggravated by the influx of Transports on a rampage, and if they keep going that way, they might come across her. Cat's fast, and she's smart, but he's certainly not going to leave her to evade a group like that, and really just dives into the fray. Using his magic might be risky, when Cat has seen Adonis use magic, so he's relying on brawling over magic, alongside all the other reasons that make him hesitant to use it against Exiles.

Arya might just turn the corner in time to see him taking on the fight, or she could catch the tail end of it. )

[wolfchild]

[ the sounds of a brawl reach her just as her wolf's ears flatten against her head and she growls. hushing her, the girl hurries toward the sounds, keeping hidden. she peers through a hole in a wall at the fight. nymeria tosses her head, her breath misting in front of her. she tenses for a fight. ]

galadriel → september 3rd... or just sometime before the event starts

[bumbles]

( Going to the Civic Gardens with Maurice is part of his routine, now. Sure, he has the studio Max worked out for him, but it's enclosed. Perfect for his glass and metalwork, and he's not sure how to really thank her for taking the time to find a place that wasn't essentially an abandoned shack, but there are times when he just needs to be outdoors. Finding some other kind of inspiration. And, yes, walk Maurice, too.

He's climbed onto a broken piece of statue, and is sketching. All sorts of things, but right now, this stretch of flowers that's managing to grow despite the chaotic conditions.

Maurice, a grey pitbull terrier, is flopped down beside him, tired out from lots of walking, but he perks up and wags his tail, slowly, sleepily stretching and ambling over towards Galadriel. )

[inafadingcrown]

[The Civic Gardens are quite likely the closest that Galadriel is going to get to a forest without venturing into dangerous territory, so, of course, she takes advantage of them. She's not really doing much when Maurice makes his approach, just taking in the air- it's different, somehow, filtered through greenery.

Spotting the dog is enough to shift her attention, though, and she laughs, bending down to pat her knees and beckon him over.]

And from where have you come, my friend?

ella ellis → september 1st.

[bumbles]

( September 1st: also known as the day of many hangovers.

Not for Atlas, though. Donny woke up, had a shower, made breakfast, packed up some lunch and headed to the clinic all day. The virtues of not really drinking very much! Except, he did then work in the clinic all day, and patrolling is a thing that has to happen, because the early days of the month are always sort of chaotic.

He's moving along rooftops when he notices Ella. She's pretty easy to recognize, with how often Donny has seen her, now, the way she moves and everything. But she isn't really moving in a way that suggests "Hi, my name is Ella and I'm totally fine," so he's following along until there's a chance to drop down into the street without alarming her, landing some ten meters away from where she is. )

guinevere → September 4th.

[graciousness]

[ Gwen comes to the studio and brings cake. She would bring flowers if those were to be found at large numbers. As it stands, she hates to pick any from the civic gardens, prefers to let them grow and only pick them when there would be many. Honey cake she can bring and so she bakes it in the morning, takes it with her to the studio at noon. She is wearing the color of ripe apricots, flowery cotton that is simple and sweet looking at once; curls bouncing at her shoulders as she knocks on the door. ]

[bumbles]

( It's just a simple place, but it is a vast improvement on the old one; for starters, it has a door to knock on. Donny is just in the back room, but he hears her knock, nearly trips over himself on the way to the door, and pulls it open with a kind of nervous smile. ) H-hi.

( And automatically stepping back to give her room. The front room is light, courtesy of windows at the front, and very very bare. ) Thanks f-for um, for c-coming.

( He sort of-- just makes an awkward gesture, to the back room, which has an open doorway and is a whole lot bigger. The place still isn't huge at all, but the main thing is that it's very clean, solid walls and a big space for doing his work. ) I l-like um, your d-dress. The c-color's uh, really-- w-warm?

( If that makes sense? ) Like um, summer.

( Sometimes he wonders why he speaks, just making a you're an idiot, Donny face at himself. Stop talking to people. )

backdated to the 10th

[thephix]

[She's packing a bag when she finds the envelope.

The bag isn't necessary, but she needs him to believe that she's leaving for a mission, since it's the easiest way to avoid suspicion, to make sure he won't come looking for her. She has vague plans of things to say to him, to discourage a search even more, but that's neatly derailed as she reads the letter inside, as she looks over the charms on the bracelet.

It's all a bit too much, and that's the card she can play.

She unpacks her bag to make it seem like she never planned to leave, then sets the envelope, open, with it's contents nearby, on the table. She takes a seat on the couch, idly flicking through the network as she waits for Donny to return.

The only odd thing about the scene, aside from the envelope, is that Maurice hasn't claimed his usual spot in her lap, since he's curled up on the bed, instead, Artemisia joining him.]

:C

[bumbles]

( Donny's been out most of the day, between the studio, checking in with Sweet Pea, and just filling his time with random odds and ends of things that didn't seem that significant. Sweet Pea seemed so completely thrown by Babydoll's departure, and if he's honest, he's thrown too. They'd not spoken much, but she'd been nice, even if she did break his nose - they'd been sparring and he let his guard down, been careless. Sure, she broke his nose, but afterwards they got milkshakes.

It was weird to think that she was gone, and he'd wound up doing a quiet check-in on other people he knew, even if he didn't exactly go into their apartments and investigate; the advantage of being a vigilante was more subtle skills. (Like scaling buildings and checking through windows, or gently stalking, sometimes looming. He had the good sense to do it as Atlas, at least - if he'd been Adonis it would have just been creepy. Creepier, rather.)

His head is so full of things (not that it's ever really quiet) that when he wanders through the door, he doesn't notice anything amiss. Not at first, not when he sights Max and is relieved to see she's still here.

He's less relieved when his gaze snags on the bracelet and the letter. The things he'd prepared for if - when - he disappeared. For if Max ever had to go through his things and pack them up, for if anything had ever-- )

Um. ( The greeting planned doesn't quite make it. )

anne boleyn → the night of the party.

[bumbles]

( It's been five days since he's seen Max, which is the longest time they've spent apart by choice for longer than he can specifically pin down. He'd gone back to her place when Maurice was waiting outside the studio in the rain, looking exceptionally miserable, but Max hadn't been home. She might have just been on a mission, but it felt off.

Then again, it wasn't like things weren't usually feeling off. He was probably being paranoid, trying to find excuses to go and see her.

Quite why he's wound up at Anne's place is a mystery. He's just wrapped up a patrol, bag hanging off his shoulder with his armour tucked away, his sketchbooks, the bracelet that he can't bare to look at but can't stop examining since Max had been so hurt by it.

He's gaunt, dark circles under his eyes, looking far more a mess than he ever usually does as he knocks at her door. )

[ensorceler]

[ Anne, of course, had not planned on staying home this night. Not knowing there was to be a party, something that she might actually appreciate more than what she's seen so far. She has observed and listened and played along gayly, and some experiences she has adored, while others have only left her feeling embarrassment for the sake of her future kin. In some ways she knows she must conform in order to gain acceptance, but in her manner of dress she will continue to do whatever she pleased, and the old French and English fashions still please her greatly.

Tonight she wears her brown and beige dress with brocade so rich the designs may as well have told a story all their own, the ruby earrings her only other accessory outside of the french hood that helps hold the artfully arranged pile of braids atop her head, only a few dark curls permitted to peek out in a promising tease.

But then all that effort is about to go right out the door as soon as she opens it, having perhaps thought Nash had come back to escort her. But...no. This is Donny. Donny trying to cosplay Jesse. ]

Master Casey, is aught well?

scoot mccool → backdated to the 10th.

[bumbles]

( Max doesn't want to see him anymore. Logically, he thinks maybe he should go to the studio, but his feet don't carry him there. He just keeps walking, carrying all his things. a little grey kitten tucked under his arm and torn between being content with his warmth and protesting the drops of rain that occasionally catch her.

He can't remember how to get to the studio, and he's not sure exactly where he is. He should be, he's been wandering Exsilium's rooftops for months, now. Part of him wants to find Stephanie, but she never liked Max - or the idea of Max, he'd been careful not to introduce them after that. The greater part of him can't bare to see her, can't handle the thought of remembering where and how to navigate, and he winds up just standing in the rain, mud splattered up his jeans, letting himself be swept along by crowds until he's under cover and only half-trying to think where he's wound up. )

violin noises

[workout]

[ it didn't take long for scott's senses to adjust to the weather, learn to filter out the constant pelting rain and focus on what's underneath. the rain which he doesn't actually mind - sometimes it's a blessing, being able to go out and get lost in the dark, constant press of it. it's a mirror as much as it's a distraction, and maybe that's the draw.

but he's also aware that it's not strictly normal to go for long walks in shitty weather, so he's on his way home when he catches the familiar scent. needless to say, he's not expecting to find donny, drenched and miserable and holding a kitten - he was kind of expecting the witty dude with the costume and the post-its.

there's only a brief hesitation, a moment to process the change; the flash of recognition is probably easy to see, assuming donny's paying any attention. ]

Hey. Is everything okay?

[ dumbest question in the history of questions, but he's mostly just trying to get his attention. ]

backdated to the 12th. (shh pretend this isn't hideously late)

[scinlae]

[ it is night like many others. morgana does not sleep, she cannot sleep, her eyes close and nightmares threaten to tear at her mind. so she sits awake in her room, a platter of fruit sitting upon the table with the curtains thrown open. to watch the rain. to await the morning of the day.

she wills it to come faster, it does not. the rain continues and darkness does to budge.

frustrated she takes an apple and a knife and begins to cut smalls sharps into the deep red skin. ignoring how homesick the activity makes her feel. ]

there is no such thing as late!

[bumbles]

( He doesn't bother to drag off his uniform and change - unlocks the door to her apartment with his magic, sliding back the metal and restoring it once he's inside. ) M-Morgana?

( But she's in her room, and he crosses towards it, knocking on the door rather than just charging in. )

It's-- ( Adonis. Atlas. ) m-me.