ofxcalamity

[ofxcalamity]

It was already too late to turn around and leave. The question was shot at the man before realization of who was sitting in the booth had hit him. Besides, Archer wasn't the type to back down. Otherwise, he probably wouldn't be where he was, if he bend under every small inconvenience. Slipping in the seat across from Skylar, he gave the offered menu a quick once over because he already knew what he was getting -- depending on the time, it was either pancakes or cheeseburger and fries. Always with black coffee. "The usual." He answered dryly, not wanting to keep the man guessing. A faint memory of the manners he'd been taught, despite growing up on the road. Then proceeded to watch the man with a mixture of distrust and mild hostility. He had nothing against Skylar, but he'd had a fair share of run-ins with people like him. Besides, as much as he can be friendly, at times Archer respected his own privacy and somehow it felt in danger in the presence of the other man.

the comfortable hum of conversation fills the bustling diner with a certain sense of life, of community, that skylar finds they crave more than anything they could find on the menu. they're tucked into a booth in the corner of red line, a warm smile lifting the corners of their lips as they let their gaze wander the crowded tables ; there's not an unfamiliar face in the room, a testament to skylar's dedication to their role as community officer. they may have been born and raised in lost angeles, but anyone who spoke to sky might've guessed they were a burnington lifer for the way they seemed to have a fond story attached to each resident.

dark eyes crinkle at the corners as archer approaches and skylar offers a nod and an inviting gesture toward the vacant bench seat opposite them. ❝ please, ❞ skylar says, and they mean it, ❝you don't have to rush, archer, i'd love the company. perfect timing on your part, actually, i haven't even ordered yet. ❞ they lift the menu with a flourish as if to prove their point before dropping it back on the table and sliding it over toward him. ❝ what are you getting? ❞

[ofxcalamity]

It was one of these times when Archer found himself in a place he didn't want, nor needed to be yet he was dragged at. It seemed all roads in town led to the Mad Scientist and he was sure there was a good reason for it; in fact, he could think of at least three on the spot. Not that it mattered. Ice-blue hues turned to look at the source of the voice -- feminine yet lacking that sweet undertone. "It's yours." The answer to her question coming a moment later. Giving her a once over, he had guesses as to who the woman may be. Her fame around town preceeded her in most cases, but he was never that important to earn the oppotunity to meet face-to-face. Or maybe they had and the memory had somehow slipped away. "In fact, this seat is about to be freed, too. In case you're waiting for some company."

location: the mad scientist

closed starter for: @ofxcalamity (archer)

her nosing around had lead her straight to the mad scientist, and daphne knew that if anyone watched her walk through the door, they would surely sigh. it was the normal response she got from people whenever she was around, and it had taken her a long time to learn to ignore it. sure enough, when she met the gaze of one of the bartenders, she watched the rise and fall of their shoulders as they sighed heavily, the grip on her messenger bag tightening as she reminded herself that it didn't matter. she would never be everyone's cup of tea, and she didn't really want to be either. not everyone could handle her reckless behavior.

biting at the inside of her lip, daphne approached the bar slowly, her hand coming to rest on the back of one of the empty chairs as she turned her attention to someone sitting next to it. "someone sitting here, or can my ass claim it?"

[ofxcalamity]

It was a rare sight to see the diner so full. Though, most times Archer stopped by was either too early in the morning, or late into the night, so he couldn't be an accurate jury of whether it was normal for the place to be this packed or not. Nor was he the right person to be asked about what time it was. He'd lost track of it when a routine meeting has spread way past midnight and by the time he'd left the church it was already dawn. "Close." He said after a quick glance at the clock on the wall at the other end of the diner. Ice blue hues then fixed on the man's face, desperate to put a name to it. "You work at Hell's Gate, right?" A moment of revelation. He wasn't a frequent yet he'd been there enough to know the people working shifts. Plus, he was good with faces.

Ashton's frequent to the diner usually retained to coffee stops, before or after a job to pick up and go. Usually meal prepping his own food to save some money, but the week had been busy enough, with work at the bar and with silver lining, his third little side gig had been slipping, marking the homework of the kid he was helping teach in the apartment building, not done at all. That made his own meal prep slip out of view too, finding himself in the diner for a meal, the papers of the kids homework side by side his coffee and meal on the table as he sat in the quietest booth in the corner. "--oh," Ashton blinked up from the concentration before he pulled himself together and greeted the man, "of course, no problem at all," he's pushed his things aside and made space for him. "Sorry I didn't realized it got so packed, is it lunch time already?"

[ofxcalamity]

Taking the seat across from the man, Archer's icy-blue eyes casually gazed over the spread notes in front of the man. "They are down a waiting staff, too, apparently." He make a bland remark, glancing at the single waitress with desperation written all over her face as she was trying to accomadate to everyone's needs. Archer graced the man with another single look once he introduced himself. He was usually good with face -- all it took was one look for a face to be permanently engraved in his mind; names, however, were a whole other story. "I'm Archer, but you can call me Caine." At least that's what most people preferred these days. "Are you a reporter?"

the reporter was eating with one hand and steadily looking through photos with the other, a frown of deep concentration on their face. after everything that happened, they were finally getting the chance to go through all the pictures they'd taken documenting what they could of the people affected by the vision dust and the general response around everything. ziggy had a feeling there would be several stories to come out of recent events. their duochromatic gaze popped up to the biker when he approached.

"uh, yeah— sure," ziggy set the camera down and pulled the notebook and plate closer to him to give the man a clearer space. their things were still haphazardly spread around the table. "just waiting on your food? i think they're down a cook to the whole mothman debacle." mentioning it made ziggy worry about beau again, though they were trying not to be overbearing despite sending his sister out there to check on him. "i'm ziggy, by the way."

[ofxcalamity]

Frown passed across his face like a shadow. Her words triggering a momentary unease and he knew it wouldn't go unnoticed. He'd let her far too close for Salem to be able to read him like a book, perhaps one of the very few able to sense even the slightest shift in his mood. "I may not be home tonight." He said it casually, hoping for no further questions. "At least not until the small hours at best." He quickly added, not liking the idea of keeping her in the dark yet still withholding bits of information. For her own good, he thought. Still, the bitterness remained. It was enough for his insecurities to latch on, but he pushed them back down and forced a weak smile to mirror hers. "Somewhere new for a change." He'd been the one to drag her to various of the dim-lit places in town, but he'd grown tired of the scenery lately and it was a shame to be hiding in the shadows when it was still bright outside. "As long as you're in for a small drive, of course."

salem could see the way archer studied her sketch, and as much as she wanted to cover it with her hands and tell him not to look, she knew it was no use. she left plenty of them laying out around their shared space, and she'd been forthcoming about the ones she was most proud of. besides, it was hard for her to keep anything from archer when he so clearly saw right through her most of the time. "that's very nice of you," she teased, her hands pushing her sketchbook closed now that he'd lost interest in it. the fishery was having a slow day, and his offer was far too tempting. "i suppose i could let you steal me for a little. though i figured you'd get enough of me at home." salem was already pushing herself to stand, flashing archer a sweet, private smile. "where are you taking me?"

[ofxcalamity]

Unlike Mama who could sleep until noon, Evelyn was an early bird. And among their favourite thing was watching the sunrise from the front porch with a cup of honey-sweetened tea nestled in their palms. They'd requested the day off at the Red Line Diner to come and sell as much of their produce as possible at the market. Mama hadn't been feeling well lately. Evie blamed it on the equinox and all the sleepless nights, attempting to catch a glimpse of the Dread Father himself. To earn his attention. But her inner voice already knew it was something else. Their Mama was turning into a shell of her past self with each passing days -- hues turning grey, body growing weaker, skin turning pale. She'd barely leave the house, leaving almost any work to her. Baskets full of apples and strawberries were rotting in the basement because the schedule at the diner has been tight the past couple of weeks. Once golden, honey was turning brown in the dark. All waiting for her to make the time to bring it to the market. Good thing people weren't picky when produce were still sparse.

"Morning!" They greeted in return, the grin on their lips barely reaching their eyes. "Are these for me or my Mama?" Evie asked, eyeing the flowers. Spending most of their life away from other human beings, they tended to be awkward when it came to connecting with others. Not that it showed, nor were they fazed about it. It just meant people had to be really blunt and really straightforward as they were, for Evelyn to understand them. Subtle gestures simply were something they were fluent in.

Taking the offered cup, they sipped on the thick, velvety drink before answering. "Busy." A pause. A bite to the inside of their cheek, making their full lips pout. "Mama's not feeling well these days." They rarely shared details from their personal life with strangers. But Beau was no stranger. He's the closest to a friend Eve had known at best.

who : evelyn dawson ( @ofxcalamity ) where : central market, before open

❝ mornin', evie! ❞

the greeting is bright and cheerful as it cuts through the crisp morning air of the market ; it's quiet now, only the rustle of vendors shaking out tarps and laying out crates filling the airspace of the narrow street, but in just a little over an hour, the bazaar will be abuzz with burnington residents seeking services and wares. both hands are occupied as he approaches their stall ― on one, two empty mugs and a full thermos are carefully hooked around curled fingers, and the other clutches a mason jar stuffed full of wildflowers, a splash of water sloshing around in the bottom to keep the stems fresh.

when beau reaches evelyn's stall, curious blue irises survey the layout of jars and baskets neatly on display, eyeing it for several seconds of thoughtful scrutinization before carefully placing the makeshift vase toward the back of the table. his attention is then immediately turned back to them, his grin unwavering. ( it's his first day back at the market in nearly a week and he's trying to make it a good one. he needs it to be a good one. but that's the thing about being a clary ― he might not be half the actor his sister is, but you'd still never guess just to look at him that he's hanging on by a thread! ) he shuffles the mugs ― some of his favorites, slightly chipped from several years of daily use but hand-sculpted by tadhg, just a few stalls down ― and the thermos between his hands so he can better hold them up in an offer.

❝ coffee? the cream's fresh! it ain't sweetened or nothin', but i figured if y'needed it, well... ❞ the mugs clink in his hand as he gestures toward the various vessels carrying honey on display. ❝ y'ain't never in short supply of nature's best, are ya? ❞ he doesn't give them an opportunity to accept or refuse before he's borrowing a corner of their table to pour up two steaming cups of rich, velvety caffeine. ❝ but listen to me, yammerin' away. how's your mornin' goin', huh?❞

[ofxcalamity]

There's usually no one. Most people stir away from irradiate places. Whether it's the voice of rationality telling them not to, or something as simple as survival instinct -- Evelyn didn't care. They never actually cared. It'd explain the suicide mission they'd embarked on at least. The scenery was painfully familiar, the serenity surrounding the lake feeling like a welcoming hug, Eve didn't even bother to take a look around. It was only after they'd gazed at the dull-colored water, did they notice the unfamiliar presence. Heart skipping a beat, not due to fear of getting caught but more from excitement. As someone who's already cheated death once, they had very little fear of it. "Not really." Their voice echoing in the valley, despite the tone itself not being so loud. "What are you doing?" Evelyn asked, eyes wandering to the clothes the woman had put on, then towards the equipment spread by the shore.

should they be this deep in crater lake? no, likely not ; rowan can only imagine the colorful slew of swears that will tumble from claymore's downturned lips the second she finds out that they've spent the better part of the morning wading through irradiated water. but in their defense, they've got an old afterglow hazmat suit tied off around their waist and a sturdy pair of rubber boots. is it enough? probably not, but it's more precaution than they used to take. ( if they end up sick, they end up sick. if you were to ask them, it's worth it in the name of science! ) an assortment of specimen containers slung over their shoulder rattle as they turn at the sound of footsteps and for a moment, it's all rowan can do to blink in surprise. they don't usually get company this far out.

an arm lifts to swipe at the sweat beading on their brow before swinging out in a friendly wave as they wade a few steps closer to the shore. ❝ heya! you lost or somethin'? ❞

[ofxcalamity]

It's been a while since Zaid had last seen Sloan. Most meetings these days happened similarly to the current -- their paths crossing like they did almost twenty years ago; no detailed planning involved. Sometimes he stopped by at her place or as close to her workplace as possible, but those were instances. He respected her privacy, her need for personal space since the moment she'd taken her path in life. It was a form of connection they shared. Though she'd never said it out loud, Zaid knew the absence of a fatherly figure his presence had filled in Sloan's life. Despite that he was very far from the mindset of one when she walked into his life. Perhaps the oddity came from him and not her -- in his eyes Sloan had always been the little sister he never got and only after becoming his responsibility had the lines blurred eventually. So now he was no longer sure where they stood, nor did it matter really. Not when he felt the warmth of her body pressing against him and everything else disappeared for as long as the hug lasted. "You know your old man," he teased, pulling away to look at her. Still a head shorter in comparison to him. "Been trying to stir away from trouble, but it finds me eventually."

location: mad scientist, burnington

with: @ofxcalamity + zaiden reed

between the conundrum work presented seemingly every day - and the barrage of unwanted musings plaguing her reverie - rendering her torn and feeling as though she's living a double life, conflicted was by far a lack of a better term to describe sloan's current state. boot clad feet carrying her over the threshold, the familiar, even comforting atmosphere of the mad scientist offered a huge degree of relief to the young woman upon entering the moderately populated establishment. intensely inspecting ionization effects upon organisms quickly became a way of life, so much now sloan was desperate for an oddity to occur for once.

luckily for her, the gods above happened to have been listening intently, for it wasn't usual to be offered the gratuitous opportunity to catch up on lost time with her dad. well, he wasn't her actual biological dad, though specifics weren't of the necessity. he was more of a dad to me than that sorry excuse of a sperm donor ever was, she noted to herself. advancing towards the burly figure arising from his seated position before her, a beaming grin effortlessly splays across features as sloan greets zaiden with a tight embrace. "it's been so long," she breathes out heavily, gratefully, "feels like i haven't seen you in forever, what've you been up to?"

[ofxcalamity]

They'd been coming to the lake for years. What once could be deemed as childish curiousity has now turned into a self-destructive habin some might say. Because who in their right mind would venture to a place known for it's toxic enviroment? Then again, Evie might ask -- where there any people in their right mind left? This world they lived in had nothing to do with the one before it. They'd read books about it. Their mama had told them stories, even though it was as unfamiliar to her as it was to Eve. Most times she liked to decorate those stories with facts that may or may not be true, but there was no way for Evelyn to know truth from lies. "Something like that." They shrugged, arms wrapping around her knees and pulling them closer. For once, what she deemed as another useless hike had turned to something more. Curiousity settled behind hazel hues, studying the woman. "Do you happen to have a spare?"

torment was a fickle mistress, especially for the likes of cricket's misfortune. combat boot clad heels treading over barren land, what was once fully lush now offering only patches of green here and there in inconsistent sprouts, they found themselves attaining a quiet goal impossible to achieve within the heart of devil's elbow. the rampant clamoring which was their mind finally silenced as she came to a stop, ivory fingers fishing a tattered and worn matchbox from the depths of their pocket in order to strike a flame, lighting a cigarette dangling from salmon hued lips. it wasn't until she inhaled a puff of its chemicals did she actually notice the woman perched mere inches away from them. "clearing your head too?" she acknowledged them by a rather innocuous query, a sliver of companionship seeping from words.

[ofxcalamity]

[ofxcalamity]

Hell's Gate wasn't his usual go-to place when life started filling a little too suffocating but not something a good drink couldn't fix. He preferred the Mad Scientist -- it was closer, more convenient and there was always some fun going on whether intentional or not. But every once in a while Zaid liked a change of scenery and what a plenty of sceneries this place got to offer. Tonight, however, he was determined to stick to his initial plan, which was getting a drink. Maybe two. Taking a seat at the bar, he pressed his elbows against the counter only for his dark eyes to land on a familiar face. A smirk tugged at the corner of his lips. "What the strongest thing you've got around here?"

//open. int. hell's gate bar - night.

It wasn't common, but it was quiet night for once, one that Ashton was thankful for, sometimes even this level of the building gets too loud for Ash's liking, much less the rest of the floors. But he's gotten used to the job here by now after a few years, easy to do without any trouble or fuss, something that's ultimately appreciated here and kept him around. If he can get through a shift without a scene happening and make sure to deescalate others from causing a scene, that's the real goal - other than keeping the liquids flowing and people happy.

Ash had been quietly cleaning the bar top when he felt a presence join him, blues flickering up to the person with a polite, quiet on-shift smile, "can I get you anything you need?"

[ofxcalamity]

Memento mori.

[ofxcalamity]

@exmcrtis

the lover’s almanac : part one.

[ofxcalamity]

status: open

location: crater lake

It was a rather long hike from their small house just outside of devil's elbow to the Crater Lake, but it was one Evelyn took quite often; to her mother's dislike and against everyone else's rational mind. Passing by yet another sign saying how dangerous it is to go further, a tiny voice inside her head whispered: this is trespassing, there will be consequences. Maybe she wanted to see a living proof of it. The signs warned about fees, rumors of people going missing spread like virus among the menfolk, but they'd been doing this for years now and all there was beyond the sign was silence. And heat. It burnt their pale skin as they walked straight up to the shore and plopped themselves on the dry land, letting out a soft puff.

[ofxcalamity]

GENERAL DETAILS.

full name: zaiden 'wraith' reed

nicknames: zaid, wraith, reed

name meaning: zaiden is of hebrew origin and means "god, divinity, angel"

age & date of birth: 45, december 31st

gender & pronouns: cis male (he/him)

sexual & romantic orientation: pansexual, heteroromantic

occupation: peacekeeper / medic

affiliation: afterglow / silver lining militia

current location: devil's elbow / afterglow compound

character inspo: takeshi kovacs (altered carbon), lincoln (the 100), simon 'ghost' riley (call of duty)

face claim: ricky whittle

PERSONALITY.

positive traits: caring, hard working, loyal, disciplined, gentle

negative traits: non-conformist, quiet, reserved, skeptical

personality type: 6w5, ISTP

moral alignment: true neutral

hobbies: reading classics and ancient myths, repairing things

BIOGRAPHY.

tw: terminal illness, death

Zaid grew up without knowing the man who had fathered him. Over the years he'd heard many stories surrounding the identity of this mystery man without certainty there was even a grain of truth in any of them. Eventually he stopped asking, stopped caring and there was no more room for lies. After all, if the man had ever cared for his only son, he would have stayed.

His mother was a nurse, meaning she often worked long hour shifts and young Zaid was left to fend for himself. It wasn't ideal, but it did help build up his resilience and self-sufficiency and for the most part he actually considered his childhood a happy one.

He was 15 when the disease struck. It happened without a warning, stealing the life away from his mother as well as the only source of income the family had so far. Since he was old enough to enroll directly into the strictly military education the Afterglow provided to orphans, the next year of his life was filled with intense training. However, he didn't choose the traditional route of military career and instead joined the local law enforcement as peace officer.

HEADCANONS.

He doesn't like violence but has no problem using it, if necessary.

He's been secretly offering medical assistance, if needed, to the Silver Lining Militia after one fortunate encounter with a member and realizing his views align a lot with theirs.

He's an avid reader. Among his favorites are classics from the old times and ancient myths and legends.

[ofxcalamity]

GENERAL DETAILS.

full name: evelyn dawson

nicknames: eve, evie

name meaning: evelyn is of hebrew origin and means "desired/beautiful"

age & date of birth: 35, may 11th

gender & pronouns: non-binary (she/they)

sexual & romantic orientation: asexual, aromantic

occupation: beekeeper & cultivator / waitstaff at red line diner & vendor at central market

affiliation: neutral

current location: devil's elbow

character inspo: dolores abernathy (westworld), laura moon (american gods), elain archeron (acotar series), shelly briggs (twin peaks)

face claim: emily browning

PERSONALITY.

positive traits: empathetic, passionate, imaginative, intuitive, optimistic, headstrong

negative traits: naive, idealistic, oversensitive, unforgiving, resentful

personality type: 6w5, INFP

moral alignment: lawful evil

hobbies: sewing, baking, growing plants, arranging flowers

BIOGRAPHY.

tw: near death experience mention, cult mention

For as long as Eve can remember, it has always been just them and their mama. And their bees. And their small house with orchard in the outskirts of Devil's Elbow. Their childhood was filled with various small gestures meant to please and honor The Dread Father, sprinkled liked confetti over the span of years and disguised as precious family heirloom traditions. Things Eve sometimes still catches herself doing out of habit, despite having no belief in the existence of The Mothman himself. Not even after their near death experience at the age of 8 when they got stung by a bee and went into anaphylaxis shock, spending the next three days in bed and having vivid dreams of insect-like humanoids gathering around them.

Everything Evelyn needed to know about the world, they learnt from their mother. Meaning there were things the woman purposely left out, as well as things she altered to her own liking.

At 16 Eve started working as a waiter at the Red Line Diner and has been so ever since. They're also helping around at home, taking care of the bees, despite her allergy, and growing apples and strawberries at the orchard behind their house and can often be seen selling their produce at the Central Market. On the outside they seem happy and having it all together, but on the inside a void has been growing for some time now, making them a ticking time-bomb, and they often wonder when will the timer go off and what the aftermath may be.

HEADCANONS.

Following the bee sting when they were 8, Eve has grown somewhat immune and while they still experiences shortage of breath every once in a while, it's never as bad as it was that one time.

[ofxcalamity]

Dry, humorless laugh escaped his lips. Strange, wasn't it? How the vision dust managed to distort reality but still keep one's sanity untouched for the most part. It almost felt like perfectly elaborated drug, but then again what did Archer knew of drugs when he'd never felt the urge or temptation to give in to the vice. Funny, right? Considering not so long ago he voluntary made the decision to join a group who made profit off of manufacturing and trading drugs. But the Jackals were far more than yet another criminal organization. There were family. A word Archer had barely got the chance to learn the meaning of during his childhood and teenage years.

"I'm fine," he replied, his words laced with irritation. "Thanks for asking." It took a moment for Lena's face to come to focus. She didn't deserve it - his current asshole-kind-of behavior - in fact, whoever stood before him wouldn't deserve it. Well, maybe unless they were one of the freaks roaming the streets at dusk, spreading vision dust in the air and inviting anyone they meet to follow the light. "I guess I'll just have to sleep it off." He shrugged.

If she evaluated the situation honestly, Lena might be able to admit that the collision was at least partly her own fault. She was still stood in more or less the middle of the street, attempting a kind of self-soothing before entering Hell's Gate. Of course, she didn't allow any of that grace to enter her encounter with the man who shouldered against her. "Watch where you're going."

She recognized the blond moptop, Archer -- she knew him vaguely, just from around Burnington. And after a moment of peering into his eyes, caught ablaze in the reflection of the light beams and blown wide, Lena recognized that he wasn't exactly sober. She had seen eyes like that far too often in her youth. So it wasn't her fault, them knocking into each other, but it wasn't entirely his, either.

Blowing out a rough sigh, Lena laid her hand to Archer's bicep, hoping to settle him. "Are you all right? You look a little..." She circled a finger up by her temple to indicate his altered state, "fucked up."

Lena didn't make it a habit, shepherding around lost puppies. But she couldn't help but feel a kinship with someone the Children of the Mothman had fucked over.