(catch-all) the storm & the st. paddy's day festival

[officialnotice]

CATCH-ALL: 16TH & 17TH

march 16

THE THUNDER ROLLS

The day starts off atmospherically heavy. The clouds are low, and the temperature is unusually warm, settling in the mid to high 50s (teens in Celsius). Townies are wandering around town in lightweight jackets and hoodies making small talk about the unusual weather, but for the most part they're pleased with the warmth, even if the clouds off in the distance look rather ominous. As the day goes on, the clouds creep closer and the residents seem more inclined to get a roof over their heads and stay there. The midmorning news predicts heavy rainfall by the late afternoon, but the savvier townsfolk say it’s going to be worse than that.

They’re not wrong. The sun drops low, and the winds start to pick up, howling through the trees, bringing with them nickel-size chunks of hail and torrential rains. The darker the night gets, the worse the storm hits Wayward Pines; by the time the sun has set, the sky is obscured with opaque, swirling clouds, the winds snapping trees in half, rattling the power lines, causing electricity to flicker and sometimes go out. The hail pings against the cars not safely parked inside garages, leaving the more exposed with significant damage to paint and windows, and anyone brave (or stupid) enough to step outside is instantly soaked to the skin in cold rain.

The most chilling thing of all isn’t the rain. Anyone trying to wait the weather out on Main Street will hear three wrenching cries coming from the woods, almost like the exact moment a person shreds their vocal cords in a scream. The townies claim not to hear anything unusual. It’s just the wind, they say, and they may be right. The sound as it shrieks through the trees and between buildings is similar enough to cast doubt, and combined with the rain even the most experienced camper would likely get lost trying to find it.

march 17

THERE’S WHISKEY IN THE JAR, OH

Whatever damage was caused by the previous night’s storm has mostly been cleared from Main Street by the early morning of St Patrick's Day. The streets are still a little wet, with plenty of puddles for the more adventurous children (and adults) to splash around in. The air is still a little chilly, but nothing a sweatshirt can’t fix. Nothing’s fully set up until about nine in the morning, but when it is, the St. Patty’s Day celebration gets under way. It’s small, more of a farmers' market or small festival than anything major. There’s food stalls and tables for eating, as well as a few booths where townsfolk are plying their crafts and non-food wares, as well as live music. The festivities during the daylight hours are pretty tame, a PG-rated good time for all.

When the sun sets, the party gets a little more rowdy. Someone busts out the booze and someone else busts out the Mardi Gras beads, and the music gets louder. While many food stalls are still open, the rest have shut down as the street fills with revelers, many of them holding cups half-filled with beer or something a little stronger. This part of the party isn’t for kids, and if anyone underage is spotted they'll quickly get escorted back home by the police — so try not to get caught, yes?

MOD NOTES

This is a catch-all for any and all threads pertaining to the storm (March 16th) and the St. Patrick's Day festival (March 17th)! Details on both of these happenings can be found in the March Newsletter.

PLEASE INCLUDE IN SUBJECT LINE: Character Name, which Day(s) your top-level takes place in, and Open or Closed, to help keep things a bit more organized. (For example: "Joe Biden | 16th & 17th | Open!")

Should you choose to participate in both mini-events, you're welcome to make separate top-level posts for each day or to combine them both into one.

If you have any questions regarding this event, feel free to ask them here.

Comments

[paragon]

[ For him? Yeah, he knows it was more than just sharing cake. But he kinda figured it always would be and there was nothing for it, at least nothing she'd have to worry about — that doesn't mean he's prepared to assume the same for her. He may know a little something about setting himself up for a fall, but that's one he's still trying to get up from, let alone . . .

Let alone what she's saying to him now.

Sometimes hope feels an awful lot like heartache, like lancing a wound. He glances away from the road toward her, trying to determine if that's what this is. He trusts her, knows she wouldn't lie about this, that he hadn't understood what she was trying to tell him, but that's not the problem. It's one of the few times in his life that he wasn't able to trust himself, and in the end he couldn't blame her for wanting no part of a relationship like that. So he doesn't have an answer for her right away, doesn't know if he's even allowed to call it all square with that. His brow is furrowed, and it doesn't exactly lessen any when he looks away from her again toward the road, turning the wheel into their driveway and lifting his hand to press the button for the garage before he realizes halfway there that it won't work. He breathes out and parks instead, looking at her again. ]

Let's get inside.

[ Wherever this is going, it's not gonna be in this car with his heart keeping fast time with the noise of ice striking the metal. He looks away from her and curls his fingers under the handle for a brief bracing moment before he opens the door to it, getting out and slamming the door behind him. He doesn't head up the walk, though, instead coming around the front of the car until he meets her, reaching for her shoulders and drawing her in close to him again. Not quite letting himself feel anything but the familiarity of moving together in a way that came with long practice well before this place. He makes quick work of the lock and closes the door behind them, the wind and hail and rain still a cacophonous sound against the walls and ceiling but suddenly distanced, muffled. He can hear them both breathing, and he lets her go, letting his arm fall to his side, swallowing. ]

It was Bucky's turn to do the laundry. The towels are probably still in the dryer.

[ He's not at all unaware of the room to their left where he's been sleeping alone these past few weeks, but he goes right, down the hall to the laundry room, pulling open the dryer with its usual slightly unpleasant shriek of metal, his movements only somewhat visible in the dark. (Absently, he remembers that there's a candle and some matches in the bathroom next to them that he can grab.) He straightens up with two towels, handing one to her. They're still warm. ]

[vdova]

[ He doesn't say anything, and she's not sure how to take it. Steve's not the kind of man to sit on his negative emotions — if what she'd said upset him, he'd let her know, and quickly. So rejection is likely not on the table, if anything is at all. He still has her curious, and she follows suit with his silence, remaining quiet even as they pull into the driveway. She lets herself leaning into his touch this time as he grabs her to shield her from the hail, and the muted noise of the weather outside is almost deafening when they reach the inside of the house.

He lets her go, and she moves to unzip her boots, kicking them and her wet socks off as he heads for the laundry room. This time she's behind him pretty quickly, although she gives a glance towards the room they used to share. The concrete of the laundry room is cold on her feet, and in a flash of lightning she can see the muscles of his back and shoulder work under his now (somehow, even tighter) shirt, and she lingers in the doorway, watching him, taking the towel when it's offered, still without a word. She raises it to her face, dries it off and then reaches up to start rubbing at her hair in an attempt to get most of the moisture out of it. But her jeans and jacket are starting to chafe, and—

And he still hasn't told her no. Natasha drops the towel down around her shoulders, grips an end in each hand and draws her gaze up his body. ] We should get out of these wet clothes.

[ She doesn't wait for an answer. She drops her towel and her jacket on the floor, and walks right up to him, skimming her hands up under his shirt to tug it off, dropping it to the floor with the loud 'slap' of wet fabric hitting a hard surface, and reaches her mouth up to his to kiss him softly. ]