WE ARE NEVER EVER EVER (EVER EVER) GETTING OUT OF THIS LOOP TOGETHER

[initiates]

Date & Time: February 7th - 14th (which happens to be 7 days' worth of February 7th. so just...February 7th.)
Location: Exsilium!
Characters: EVERYONE...who wants to use this space.
Summary: Here
Warnings: TBD (let us know if something needs noting)



February seventh came and went...and came back again. No matter where they were or what they were doing the time midnight rolled around for the eighth...Transports found themselves exactly where they were the midnight prior.

And so the day began again.

And again.

And again – for a week!

For some, maybe the involuntary reset was a godsend. Maybe. But how many times could a person repeat the same day before losing it a little? Or a lot?

Only (looped) time could tell.

Comments

[urbanmagic]

[On the fourth day of Groundhog day, my true love said to me--]

Okay, I'll bite. I'm pretty sure you'll forget I said this yesterday, and the day before, and maybe today too, but didn't Ai already say that message four days in a row? Since when did we get stuck in a time loop?

[guynarchy]

Since four days ago, February 7th.

[Guess whose ring wants to be super helpful today? A fact that Guy is not very pleased with, if the scowl on his face is any indication. This isn't exactly hell - he's already been there and back, thanks - but it's bordering awfully close.]

Oh, shut it. [To the ring, not Traci. To Traci, he says:] Dunno, but whoever thought it'd be a good idea to pull April Fool's in February's gonna wish they didn't when I find 'em.

[enoughtokill]

Since four days ago, you've answered your question yourself. [He should be called Friendmaker.]

Right question is wondering what do we do about it.

[asoothingvoice]

I think the more important question is why.

[She sighs and pushes her hair back.]

I'm starting to wonder how often I should expect Jaime to get involved with things involving time going weird.

[Once was more than enough.]

[CLOSED TO JERICHO]

[lexiconning]

[ It'd started off fun-- or, well, a lot of fun. Painting with Jericho... after seeing his drawings but never really seeing him in the act, she had a hard time keeping herself from staring. From making silly, stupid smiles and pushing her focus back onto her own canvas before it dried or the little pigeon loafing down in front of them moved out of her round pose.

That was how they sorta nodded off, paint all over on the floor. A huge mess to clean up, but that was okay.

Time flew; not a whole lot got finished but that was somehow alright. They had breakfast, laughed about anything, got farther on the paintings too. Still so weird... but always nice. She'd been able to hold his eyes again and that nearly jerked a tear out of her around noon, but Syllona brushed it off. A good day...

Being on the floor again was... weird. And a little distressing. Syllona takes a good few minutes making sure she hadn't somehow... dreamed yesterday? No, this was not quite right.

She gently shakes Jericho awake, insistent pushing at his shoulder. Deep breaths are good to keep in mind, at least she's not alone.

It could always be worse. And it might, and she's expecting it. ]

Hey... Hey, something happened.

[eyecontact]

[that had been one of the better days in a long, long time – in more ways than one. the prospect of painting with an audience is terrifying, but somehow she became the exception; she'd already had the small window into this art, still had it even after their horrible friction that was more than just a little bit why his creative block had been so heavy.

cereal on plates again, picking out things in this snowier Exsilium they could agree were ridiculous...eye contact. he felt a twinge in him that he'd not had in a while when he saw how it moved her. he was very happy, and went back to hole-in-the wall living space with a smile.

he still has it, a little, but it twists into a drowsy scowl as he's shaken out of a comfortable sleep. he startles, rolling onto his side, eyes still squeezed shut in protest even as his stomach drops and he realizes he's not alone.

that snaps them wide open and searching, spotting Syllona's knees and hands, and that's enough to get him to roll back onto his stomach and push himself up, shaking his head free of a heavy cloud of drowsiness.

frowning, scrubbing the corner of his eye, he peers at Syllona. What...?]

OPEN City market February 10th and on

[hornedomen]

[The second February 7th seemed strange and from the third day on, he knew there was something wrong.]

I already sold you this before. Don't you remember? Then when I woke up, it was there again.

[He walked away after having sold the same amount of meat on yet another day. This was not right and yet the people here acted as if nothing was happening. Someone had to have noticed. He looked around, searching for anyone that looked like a Transport, whether he knew them or not.]

Have you noticed anything strange? This all happened before, right?

[urbanmagic]

[Luckily, there is one transport walking around who did notice the bizarre situation, right after escaping the same lady trying to sell her the exact same shirt she realized two days ago was a rip-off to have.]

Oh, hi there. [As for the question.] Well, if you mean that today is still the 7th even after I'm pretty sure it's been three days, then I'm pretty sure most everyone's noticed by now.

open | action

[charming_jerk]

[Johnny isn't a patient man by any means, so by the fourth day of this nonsense, he's flipping his lid. He's yelling at locals, maybe even throwing things. He's not crazy, right? RIGHT? He tries to explain it to the scared and irritated locals who have no idea what this guy's talking about.]

No, look, I-- This happened yesterday! And they day before, and even the day before that! I came to this store, that lady dropped her stuff and that guy trips on 'em and lands into me! It's like that movie! That one where-- shit, okay, I don't remember how it ends, okay? It was a long time ago! Look, just forget it, okay?!

[Johnny starts to look around a bit desperately for signs of any Transports while the locals back away slowly from the crazy guy. He needs to talk to someone about this.]

[khajidont]

[The fact that everything's gone a bit wonky isn't something that's been lost on Jaime, but he's also been too paranoid to go talking to the locals about it. It appears that some other guy doesn't have the same kind of thinking, and he's drawing a hell of a lot of attention to himself from the locals -- who may or may not remember this come tomorrow.

Time travel sucks. So. Much.

Either way, he's quick to walk over there, flinging a friendly arm around Johnny's shoulders and giving him the frozen, meaningful sort of smile that typically means play along.]

Hey, I've been looking all over the place for you! [He fixes his eyes on one of the more irritated looking locals - a woman, larger than him and broad in the sort of way that only years of hard physical labour can get you - and raises his other hand placatingly.] Sorry about this, guys, he can get sorta worked up sometimes! Come on, let's go to, uh, that thing we were going to go to!

[And with that, he starts ushering Johnny away from the locals, still feeling their distrustful eyes on their backs.]

+ Mistletoe every day all week

[crocodilesmiles]

( open out of season edible 'mistletoe' for any and all )
Collette had no way of knowing that the night she finally managed to set up mistletoe in various buildings and residences of Transports throughout Exsilium would be the exact night everything about time would go crazy.

As a consequence, the mistletoe goes back up at midnight every night, no matter what had happened to it over the course of the day. It isn't truly mistletoe, some distant cousin mutated over the ages, and the fruit on its leaves is actually edible. Those natives who see it will find it odd that someone's tacked up an edible fungus to various entranceways. Over the course of the day, it'll inevitably be pulled down.

Welcome to Mistletoe (sorta) in February. Isn't it kind that little tags are tied in ribbons to each of the bunches, explaining the good luck and prosperity behind the tradition?

Anyone? Anyone?

... Bueller?

( if any wish to tag Collette; )
For Collette's part, she checks in on the various bundles, idly curious to see the different ways they're taken down as each weekday cycles back to be the same day. She still has some unhung bundles with her, and as she trudges from place to place in the snow, she whistles an invented tune.

It makes her think of Simmaeri, from what feels like years ago.

throws plants at your feet with disgust on day 4

[theguideless]

Collette, walking.

Martin has difficulty processing it still, though the week's seen fit to give him ample chance to. It gives him a strange, fluttering feeling in his chest that he can't wholly tack down. For as long as he's known her, she's been sitting. Now it's different...he's different, so's she, so's a lot of things.

Change is scary and exciting.

"I saw somebody throw some against a wall," he says slowly, frowning, dropping in as if they were already in a conversation. It's something he corrects right away, though. "Uh– Collette?"

Because maybe it wasn't her, he worried.

i can have three and a half threads with collette if i want to ok

[commentboxtroll]

The first day he had spotted her hanging up the bundles, he knew exactly what she was up to. The last time, he had made a fuss over how bizarre and terrible this ridiculous tradition was. This time, well! Okay, he was still going to complain about it, but not before waiting for her to return to check up on one around the warehouse area. That was when he decided to sneak up and actually surprise her with a kiss on the cheek, one of his few and very, very rare moments of honestly open affection.

Then the day repeated and it had happened all over again.

Then the day repeated and it had happened all over again.

Then the day repeated and... You get the idea!

When the sixth day comes, Caesar's already at the offending plant before Collette usually shows and he's made a point to take it down and throw it into the more cluttered end of the warehouse, like this is somehow its fault. He scowls after it before turning back to look at her, upon which the expression lightens some, but he's still blatantly irritated.

"You'll have to excuse me, I think I've run out of kisses by now."

open!

[fujibayashi]

[Sheena is starting to go nuts, too. Four or five days in, she's stopped helping out at one of the local shops because it's too horrendous to deal with. The exact same conversation, the same stuff happening no matter what she does to change it. Whether she's outside or inside her little house doesn't matter, so she's training on the edge of town.

Don't let the earmuffs and scarf confuse you. She's here for one thing and one thing only: and that is breaking shit in half. She currently has several wooden boards lined up on top of some cement blocks. After a moment of concentration, she breaks them with a single hand, all at once.

It sounds like bones snapping.

Good.]

[wilder]

[Zelos had been handling the repeated time loop better than a lot of people. Frankly because when you grow up among Tethe'alla nobility, you get really used to holding the same sort of insipid conversations day after day after day. Same with working in the clinic- telling the same person to stop doing some stupid thing again they keep doing over and over was hardly anything new.]

[Still even by now he was getting a bit sick of it, choosing to skip work to just...wander around. Not like he had anything better to do if everything kept repeating itself.]

[It was there he spotted Sheena from afar, and decided to go bother her. Since hey, that was something new and always entertaining. It's when he reaches normal human vision and hearing range does she break those boards of woods- making him halt in his tracks and stare]

[That looked painful.]

Uh, bad time?

[protects_no_one]

[She'll find she's not the only one on the edge of town releasing some frustration.

Normally, he can take the idiosyncrasies of this place and its inhabitants in stoic stride, but after being forced to repeat the same conversations and actions over and over for no apparent reason, even he can become frustrated.

So, like a caged animal, he had sought freedom, and had found it just past the edge of town, using his Light Whip to pick whatever remaining leaves decorated nearby trees--before making small piles of firewood from the lower branches.

Anyone passing by would have sworn the demon was enjoying himself; and they'd be right because he doesn't remember doing this during those other days, so he's going to savor the "newness" for as long as possible. That's put to a stop when he hears the snap, and curious about the source (while wondering if it's Shinji getting into trouble no, he's not concerned, really), he investigates, putting two and two together when he sees the pile of wood and the woman before it.]

Impressive.

ota!

[khajidont]

[a - for roomies and/or close cr visiting!]

[This isn't right. Jaime knew something was going a bit wonky when a bunch of people from his universe, from his life - people who aren't from Gotham as they overwhelming tended to be - showed up a week earlier than they should have. He certainly hadn't been expecting things to get screwed up this fast, however, and while he can see why some other people are using this as an opportunity to do things they wouldn't otherwise, he's mainly using the time to worry. He's positive that there are negative implications to this, only he can't seem to figure out what they are. The trouble with time travel is that it's not a one-time deal; things accumulate, and once they accumulate, things change. What's going on now may not necessarily be as a result of the recent spat of missions, which means they have to do a seriously big-picture analysis.

He really wishes Blue was around.

But since he's not, Jaime has officially moved from his bedroom to the kitchen table, his binder full of the notes he had been taking from his very first day here taken out and spread over every inch of table and counter space he can feasibly use, chronologically. There has to be something in there that he can use as a lead, he just has to find it.

Some people look interesting and intellectual and thoughtful while they're concentrating. Unfortunately for Jaime, he just looks mildly constipated, frowning thunderously down at the notes as if staring at them all simultaneously will somehow intimidate them into giving him answers. Sadly, nothing of the kind is happening. When Khaji Da helpfully informs him of this fact, he snaps,] Really? Are you sure? 'Cause I could've sworn I'm having a breakthrough here. [He frowns back down at the table, and raps his knuckles on it.] Soooo many breakthroughs.

[b - open to all]

[And when he's not trying to fabricate answers out of nothing, he's out and about. He's given up on going to work, because the same orders day after day may be nothing new, but at least the wording's typically a bit different. Go chop some wood. The pile's still there. Monosyllabic grunting and forceful gestures. Sure, it wasn't much, but variety was the spice of life, and it's plain old creepy to run through the motions again and again.

Instead, he's walking through town buying paint. He's not really rolling in money, but at this rate, he'll wake up with a full wallet again tomorrow, and it's worth a shot. Jaime makes something of an odd figure trudging through the snow with a good three cans stacked on top of each other and nearly obscuring his view.

Sorry if he happens to bump into you - these things are heavy, and he really doesn't have the height to be able to handle this comfortably.]

a

[enoughtokill]

[How does Peacemaker sneak inside your own residence without you noticing? It is a mystery. But the fact is that he has, and he's not crossing his arms behind Jaime as the kid checks his notes.]

Found anything useful to help in this whole mess? [He eventually says.]

1/7 all OPEN; warning for many stupid potential death scenes (someone had to do it.)

[lazyinlove]

Day 1: Outside of town toward the hills
There's something ominous in the air that morning. After living around Tony for years, Stanley has learned how to scent it. He can feel it coming, and this place hasn't dulled that sense of dread that curls up in his stomach like a rock. This day is going to suck, even if he has no idea how yet.

The farmer had shaken Stanley awake at dawn with an errand to do -never his favorite way to wake up anyway- but the anxiety had been there long before that. The previous night it had set in, sour and heavy, making sleep difficult.

It isn't until he's several miles out into the hike up toward the hills that he realizes he's walked into something dangerous. By then, there's no turning back. In fact, he's...surrounded. The elk hadn't seemed that bad, passing by one or two at a time. He'd been careful, and they hadn't paid him any mind anyway. They were all focused on one another. It's the loud clash that stops him in his tracks. A sound that echoes like gunfire off of the surrounding hills. Stan shivers, and takes a step backward. Wait, is this what rutting season means? Fuck.

2/7 OPEN, potential death scene warning

[lazyinlove]

Day 2: Outside of town and a few miles west of the hills
There's something ominous in the air that morning. After living around Tony for years, Stanley has learned how to scent it. He can feel it coming, and this place hasn't dulled that sense of dread that curls up in his stomach like a rock. This day is going to suck, even if he has no idea how yet.

The farmer had shaken Stanley awake at dawn with an errand to do -never his favorite way to wake up anyway- but the anxiety had been there long before that. The previous night it had set in, sour and heavy, making sleep difficult.

Something trips his trigger on the way to the hills, and he abruptly changes direction, planning to get up into the hills a different way today. Last night, he'd had this really shitty dream about being gored by elk, and it's enough to send a shiver up his spine and draw him off of the path.

Alright, so he doesn't know the way like this. No big deal, he'll figure it out...

3/7 warnings etc

[lazyinlove]

Day 3: In town
There's something ominous in the air that morning. After living around Tony for years, Stanley has learned how to scent it. He can feel it coming, and this place hasn't dulled that sense of dread that curls up in his stomach like a rock. This day is going to suck, even if he has no idea how yet.

The farmer had shaken Stanley awake at dawn with an errand to do -never his favorite way to wake up anyway- but the anxiety had been there long before that. The previous night it had set in, sour and heavy, making sleep difficult.

He's so cold, though. Cold right down to his bones, and he can't shake it. So he heads the opposite way, toward town instead, to curl up in front of a bar fireplace. Cat comes with him, because when the farmer figures out Stan has no plans to do his job that day there could be some consequences, and it's best not to leave a potential food source in the hands of a surly farmer. Besides, tucking the cat into his jacket is like having an instant belly warming device, that only claws him if he trips and jostles it too much. The visual of the hills in the distance sends a shiver down his spine so thoroughly that he can't stand to look at them, just wraps his arms around himself and hurries ahead.

It's a typical afternoon at the pub. Brawls break out on occasion, even ending once in almost an entire bottle of fiercely potent alcohol spilling over Stan. The cat protests at that, and Stan lets it out to wander around while he curls as close to the fire as possible and drifts off, making up some much needed sleep. It's warmer here. So much warmer...

4/7 warnings etc

[lazyinlove]

Day 4: In town
There's something ominous in the air that morning. After living around Tony for years, Stanley has learned how to scent it. He can feel it coming, and this place hasn't dulled that sense of dread that curls up in his stomach like a rock. This day is going to suck, even if he has no idea how yet.

The farmer had shaken Stanley awake at dawn with an errand to do -never his favorite way to wake up anyway- but the anxiety had been there long before that. The previous night it had set in, sour and heavy, making sleep difficult.

He fans himself, eager to get out of the barn that morning. It's never felt so hot before in there. Usually he's chilly, preferring to stay close to his blankets and hay pile or hang with the baby animals and their cozy warm lamps.

Today it's a breath of fresh air to get outside, and he stands and sucks it in gratefully, hanging out under the eaves of one of the buildings in town with his jacket wide open, pressing snow to his face to try and cool off. He stoops to pick up some more snow, this intended to go into his mouth, and jostles the door when he stumbles a bit.

Above him, the long icicles shiver and clatter from the movement...

5/7

[lazyinlove]

Day 5: Outside of town, southeast of the hills
There's something ominous in the air that morning. After living around Tony for years, Stanley has learned how to scent it. He can feel it coming, and this place hasn't dulled that sense of dread that curls up in his stomach like a rock. This day is going to suck, even if he has no idea how yet.

The farmer had shaken Stanley awake at dawn with an errand to do -never his favorite way to wake up anyway- but the anxiety had been there long before that. The previous night it had set in, sour and heavy, making sleep difficult.

The idea of heading outside makes him nervous for reasons he can't quite put his finger on, but he does it anyway, however reluctantly. He had this really shitty dream last night, he recalls as he pulls his boots on. About icicles. And fire. And elk...

Stanley shivers to himself, but dutifully gets dressed and heads out toward the hills. Somehow, as soon as they loom into sight it stops him cold in his tracks. He...can't go up there. It's ridiculous, he knows it is. But ridiculous or not, the dread in his stomach becomes a ball and chain locked around his ankles when he tries to move forward anyway.

Fuck it. The job isn't worth it. Maybe Mike will let him crash for a while, or Jesse will, or...or someone. Anyone. He just can't do this today. The panicked feeling is refusing to die down.

Stan shakes his head and turns to head back and find someone to ask for a corner to sleep the day off, taking the shortcut over the frozen pond. There's no danger of falling through, it's been frozen for decades according to the farmer...

6/7

[lazyinlove]

Day 6: In town
There's something ominous in the air that morning. After living around Tony for years, Stanley has learned how to scent it. He can feel it coming, and this place hasn't dulled that sense of dread that curls up in his stomach like a rock. This day is going to suck, even if he has no idea how yet.

The farmer had shaken Stanley awake at dawn with an errand to do -never his favorite way to wake up anyway- but the anxiety had been there long before that. The previous night it had set in, sour and heavy, making sleep difficult.

The idea of heading outside makes him nervous for reasons he can't quite put his finger on, but he does it anyway, however reluctantly. He had this really shitty dream last night, he recalls as he pulls his boots on. About ice. And fire. And elk...

It's this that causes him to dart from building to building, flitting around like a nervous chipmunk, wide eyed and flinching at every shadow. It's a ridiculous way to react to a dream, but he can't help it. The dread in his stomach feels real.

It's because of this that he pauses and crawls under a bench , huddling for a moment beneath it like a scared animal. It's alright, no one will see him there, right? Anyway, it's warm. There's some heat seeping through the stone of the building on this side. He must be near a chimney. It's so nice under the bench in fact, that there's something growing there.

Mushrooms.

When he was a kid, Stanley hadn't liked mushrooms. He'd grown to appreciate certain types in his teenage years, but as far as food went, he hadn't ever craved them. But here, where food is harder to come by and always hard earned, he can't help giving them a look over. It'd been a while since anyone had taken him out to scavenge, and anyway it was dark under the bench. He couldn't see them properly. The odds were good, though, that they would be fine. Unless sunlight regularly made it through here, they weren't likely to be inedible. It couldn't hurt to try just one...

7/7 OPEN, no death warnings!

[lazyinlove]

Day 7: In town
There's something ominous in the air that morning. After living around Tony for years, Stanley has learned how to scent it. He can feel it coming, and this place hasn't dulled that sense of dread that curls up in his stomach like a rock. This day is going to suck, even if he has no idea how yet.

The farmer had shaken Stanley awake at dawn with an errand to do -never his favorite way to wake up anyway- but the anxiety had been there long before that. The previous night it had set in, sour and heavy, making sleep difficult.

Stan doesn't attempt to fight the dread this time. The dreams he's had feel so real it's almost as though they're memories. Even the part about the day happening over and over again. Which he knows isn't possible, but...

But fuck it. FUCK IT. He scoops Allergies up, tucking the cat into his coat and ignoring it's quiet mew of protest at the treatment, and all but bolts out of the farm, telling the farmer to go fuck himself.

He darts from building to building like a nervous chipmunk, avoiding eaves and overhangs, heart thumping wildly in his chest. It's too much, somehow. Just being outside is tripping every trigger he has, and he finds himself pounding on the door of the nearest residence. He needs to get inside. He needs to hide. It doesn't matter if it's all in his head, it feels real...