eva stratt. (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
pragmatisch) wrote in ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png)
ph_logs2026-06-04 10:05 pm
pragmatisch) wrote in ph_logs2026-06-04 10:05 pm
(open.) the breath of the morning
Who: Eva Stratt (pragmatisch) & open
What: Settling into the island before and after Cukefest
When: June
Where: Varied - see prompts.
Warning(s): Noted in headers if needed.
downtown.
There's a newer face that's joined the flow of those working in or near Town Hall. Stratt's joined the oft ignored Board of Safety, always on time and frequently late to leave. When her work for the day is complete, her light stays on as she pores over older reports about other happenings, buried in the chronicles of the past several years here. Past dangers, past strange occurrences, and what worked to resolve the pain and suffering these people have gone through time and again. Hector's list of information and relevant parties is always at hand, and her own files start to become references.
When Stratt's not burying herself in work, the library sees her frequently on the same mission, looking into recent history and what's been recorded down. Always nonfiction, never stories, and whether she checks the books out or brings them home is a toss-up. And home is one of the townhouses, granted to her with her choice of employment. Frankly, while the inn was comfortable, she's had too many years in close quarters to not want some space. Stratt moves in without much fanfare, and when she returns from her often long days, it is quietly. At least she isn't entirely work focused, though, and also winds up at occasion at Blackwood Brews. It's a soothing place, and she'll usually take a table if she can to have a cup of some kind of black tea and only very occasionally something else with it. (She always has to remember that food isn't optional before her stomach starts twisting inwards.)
outer hollow.
But it's summer, and the sun - shining undimmed, no doubt absent a Petrova line - calls her outwards time and again, since she's kept from spending all of her time on her personal projects. So she walks to different places on the island, privately relishing being able to walk in a living world, embracing the heat as a reminder of what they need to bring back. Lockwood Forest isn't a terrible destination, hiding under trees to escape burning to a crisp - and when is the last time she had to think about sunburn, anyway? Cloudier moments or later in the day have brought her feet to the beach, walking past the marina to wind up on an actual shoreline where she leaves a trail of footprints behind as the tide slowly comes in. And sometimes she goes to the Bluffs, the wind against her face over the sea familiar enough to remind her of one of her favorite places to go and think.
Not every adventure is meant to clear her head or follow some pulling thread, though. Being sent to Lake Sal-Co-Penn after being fully briefed on the dangers is an assignment, and the signs she's brought are meant to be some kind of deterrent - "since people keep falling for it," so she was told. A hammer, some nails, and carefully tapping them to trees to try and really remind people to reconsider. And if she hears a voice out there, sees a flash of golden fabric - either she's squeezing her eyes tight, bowing her head, or at least once hitting her thumb instead of the nail. At least the throbbing pain keeps her distracted from what's out there, if only for a little while.
wildcard.
[have a different idea, or a different location to meet at? let's go for it!]
pragmatisch) & openWhat: Settling into the island before and after Cukefest
When: June
Where: Varied - see prompts.
Warning(s): Noted in headers if needed.
downtown.
There's a newer face that's joined the flow of those working in or near Town Hall. Stratt's joined the oft ignored Board of Safety, always on time and frequently late to leave. When her work for the day is complete, her light stays on as she pores over older reports about other happenings, buried in the chronicles of the past several years here. Past dangers, past strange occurrences, and what worked to resolve the pain and suffering these people have gone through time and again. Hector's list of information and relevant parties is always at hand, and her own files start to become references.
When Stratt's not burying herself in work, the library sees her frequently on the same mission, looking into recent history and what's been recorded down. Always nonfiction, never stories, and whether she checks the books out or brings them home is a toss-up. And home is one of the townhouses, granted to her with her choice of employment. Frankly, while the inn was comfortable, she's had too many years in close quarters to not want some space. Stratt moves in without much fanfare, and when she returns from her often long days, it is quietly. At least she isn't entirely work focused, though, and also winds up at occasion at Blackwood Brews. It's a soothing place, and she'll usually take a table if she can to have a cup of some kind of black tea and only very occasionally something else with it. (She always has to remember that food isn't optional before her stomach starts twisting inwards.)
outer hollow.
But it's summer, and the sun - shining undimmed, no doubt absent a Petrova line - calls her outwards time and again, since she's kept from spending all of her time on her personal projects. So she walks to different places on the island, privately relishing being able to walk in a living world, embracing the heat as a reminder of what they need to bring back. Lockwood Forest isn't a terrible destination, hiding under trees to escape burning to a crisp - and when is the last time she had to think about sunburn, anyway? Cloudier moments or later in the day have brought her feet to the beach, walking past the marina to wind up on an actual shoreline where she leaves a trail of footprints behind as the tide slowly comes in. And sometimes she goes to the Bluffs, the wind against her face over the sea familiar enough to remind her of one of her favorite places to go and think.
Not every adventure is meant to clear her head or follow some pulling thread, though. Being sent to Lake Sal-Co-Penn after being fully briefed on the dangers is an assignment, and the signs she's brought are meant to be some kind of deterrent - "since people keep falling for it," so she was told. A hammer, some nails, and carefully tapping them to trees to try and really remind people to reconsider. And if she hears a voice out there, sees a flash of golden fabric - either she's squeezing her eyes tight, bowing her head, or at least once hitting her thumb instead of the nail. At least the throbbing pain keeps her distracted from what's out there, if only for a little while.
wildcard.
[have a different idea, or a different location to meet at? let's go for it!]
no subject
Her tone, however is quieter, almost gentle in its cadence. No need to shout or turn this into a confrontation, when it's merely two souls looking for peace.
"Neither did I. But it's public land."
She won't chase him off, but she won't yield.
no subject
"Yeah," he agrees. Coming to a stop to her left, he looks out over the water. From the wrist of his right hand, a glass circle hangs on a thin leather string, and as he stands there he rubs his thumb across the glass, self-soothing.
"...Almost makes you feel like you can fly," he murmurs.
no subject
The movement catches in the corner of her eye. Another thing to look and know about him. Some memento, or a gift?
"Where would you go, if you found yourself flying?"
no subject
He looks over at her, almost like he's hoping he gave the right answer.
no subject
Where somewhere turns into a great expanse of land, and then the ocean comes to follow. in its murky blues. There's no wrong answer to this, when she hardly knows what she'd do herself if she could fly. Fortunately, this other world hasn't seen fit to bestow any unsettling supernatural abilities upon her - she's as she ever was.