Angela was so much more of a fan of the random festivity than she was of intervals of crazy like this previous weekend. So much more. Cookies falling out of cupboards all over the place was something she'd call a pro, on any day. Okay, there was a lot of them. More than she knew what to do with, but at least she had people here to pass them all off onto.

Or, people she could try to pass them off onto. Better than nothing.

The music was appropriately peppy and loud and there were cookies and water for anyone that wanted that. Use your sugar rush to it's advantage!

Merlin was still trying his best to not be seen, even as he was there to help lead the reserve. It was a very complicated maneuver. "Hello everyone," He said, looking at a nice tree that he hadn't made a fool of himself in front of.

"We thought, in light of the---weekend---we ought to come up with a plan of what to do in case you remain normal as that happens again."

This was Karla, eyes on her feet, steadily repressing any memories she might have of leather catsuits and her 'darke Master'. "So, we're definitely going to ask anyone who did remain normal to share what they experienced," she continued, fighting off a blush. "Especially if they have tips to share."

"How did you realize that people weren't normal?" Tony asked. "I mean, sometimes it's obvious, but sometimes it's just something small that makes you notice things aren't quite right."

Merlin managed one tiny glance over at Karla and Tony and--Karla agan. He couldn't seem to look away now.

"I--yes. Small things." He cleared his throat and moved not so vaguely straight for her. He hadn't never truly realized how he felt until this very moment.

Well, it was kind of hard not to acknowledge at Merlin when he was right there. Karla glanced over, experienced yet another moment of slight dizziness where it felt like the world was shifting beneath her feet, and then dazedly blinked up into his wonderful, handsome, incredibly beloved face.

"Precisely," she breathed, swaying closer to him. "The problem is, the people involved don't seem to have any idea that they're behaving in any way unnaturally. It seems perfectly sensible and logical for them to engage in whatever bizarre activities they've adopted and they have no memory of being in any way different."

Would he be willing to kiss her? Would he mind if she kissed him? Did it matter? All Karla knew was that she loved him more than anyone else in the world. Hell's fire, he was her world.

Tony gave them a funny look, then quietly slid his camera phone from his pocket. "It never hurts to get pictures or video of what's happening," he said. "For documentation purposes."

[OCD up!]

Between this weekend, the Rescue Rangers events of the previous week, and the whatever-the-heck was going around at the play last night, Emma needed a smoke.

Honestly, she could kill off an entire carton repressing the events of last weekend, but she was going to sit on the roof ledge and be good and stick to one or two cigarettes. Maybe three, if she felt like indulging.

Four, if anyone gave her any crap, but Emma wasn't anticipating needing to deal with anything that couldn't be solved with a glare and judicious unethical use of her powers. Or mocking. Mocking solved everything.

[Open roof. SP disclaimer applies, as I haven't been getting notifs for anyone since Friday. Poke me over email if I don't answer.]

Joan and Liir were in the common room with their cakes from cooking class yesterday. There was also eggnog and hot chocolate.

A selection of holiday movies rested on top of the television.

"What should we watch first?"




[open to all who wanna hang and watch Christmas movies. Posted early because I will be AFK for a good chunk of the evening but I'll tag before and after!]

Helen was tired of being in her room so she made her way down to the common room. She flipped on the TV and watched with some dismay and confusion part of a show where people were yelling and threatening and weeping about the paternity of their children. While it was a bit fascinating in the way that some sort of natural diaster was, she couldn't stand to watch it for long. She did finally find a marathon of a cooking competition show and decided that would be a better choice for her.

And, while she was watching about cooking, why not do some of her own and make an early lunch. Maybe something warm and comforting like that lasagna thing she'd tried once. Yes, that sounded good, so she started pulling out ingredients and got to work.


[ooc: Open as common rooms are!]

For once Jaime wasn't spending his time in the common room cooking. Nope. Tonight he was sprawled out on the couch with a ziplock bag full of ice resting on his cheek. He'd spent most of Monday watching the bruise blossom from slight discoloration into a genuine shiner. So now he was just lying around watching improv comedy shows and trying to look pitiful.

It wasn't like he was above trying to get free food or care out of an injury that wasn't really that big a deal. After all, the Scarab would have completely healed the thing by now if he hadn't pointed out that that would have drawn a lot of attention. And that it didn't really hurt anyway.

So there Jaime lay: it was a nice night for sketch comedy and sympathy.

"Good afternoon, reservists," Arthur said, his voice loud enough to sound across the field. "Today, we've got a bit of a surprise for you. As some of you might still recall, Reno used to be one of the leaders of this reserve. He has chosen to stay with us after the weekend to see you through a meeting once again. For those of you who haven't met him, I suggest you open your ears and listen. Reno?"

"Yo!" Look, it was not a greeting from Reno unless there was an exuberant 'yo' involved, here. "I see none of you chumps managed to kill one another or get your asses completely kicked or anything equally stupid in my absence, so good on you." He shot Arthur a crooked grin before turning his attention back to the group, his stun baton resting lightly on his shoulder, one hand in his pocket. "I'm thinkin' you guys've probably been through all kinds of fun and excitin' shit involvin' weapons you ain't familiar with, but I hear you ain't got to play with my personal favorite yet, the baton. Nightsticks, for lack of a better word, 'cause I ain't stupid enough to hand you rookies a bunch'a live friggin' electrical weapons like mine, here."

See, Reno totally practised forethought, occasionally.

It was very impressive. Sort of. "We covered staffs last week," Arthur added, "But obviously, the baton works on a shorter range. I'm sure you'll be able to show us how to work it, though, Reno." Yeah. Forethought. Letting Reno lead the reserves.

"There's plenty you gotta remember when playin' with your rod," Reno mused, a deliberate little smirk toying over his lips. "First, like Arthur said, it's short-range. You're goin' up against someone with better reach, like staffs or swords, then you're gonna have to be faster, or damn good at takin' hits, yo." He gave the baton a swing, then, moving forward with a speed... that wasn't quite human. He hadn't done this around here in a while. He felt like showing off. "There's your drawback, slowpokes. The upside is, this puppy's a one-handed weapon, which frees up your other hand for anything you might need it for, from grabbin' your opponent by the throat to flippin' them the bird if they're pissin' you off." Shut up. That was totally important. "Bein' for closer range, you might wanna rely more on other things at your disposal, too. What your baton can't reach, your feet sure as hell should, yo. So while they're watchin' the stick in your hand, bust their jaw with a good kick. You ain't workin' with a bladed weapon, here. Speed's your best friend, because the faster you swing, the harder the hit. Blunt-force trauma, kiddies. It does wonders, zoto."

Reno was a terrible influence.

A terrible influence who had brought enough lead pipes batons for everybody here to play with. Please, don't kill one another.

[Open!]

Mat had spent the weekend dead (by pillow and of all the ways he'd been killed in the past that was by far the most embarrassing) and had come back with a very apologetic Zayne helping to dig him out of the ground.

Bloody stupid island.

So Mat had spent most of the day sleeping (after taking two record breaking showers in terms of both heat of water and length of time spent under it), and was now playing fetch with the wee elves in the common room.

He was hoping if he looked adorable enough someone would feed him.

[OOC: So very open.]

After class, Raven retreated to the roof. She was still completely out of sorts from being a dominatrix over the weekend and punishing and whipping her "clients." She needed some hardcore meditation to re-center herself.

Wait, hardcore was probably not the word she was looking for.

Jack, at least, was being a perfect gentleman about things, which made it much easier to deal with. Two of the men were strangers, so hopefully she would never see them again. Which mostly just left Dinah, Aphrodite, Hannibal, Max, any lingering weirdness with Joan...and Merlin. The memory of how he'd looked at her made her shudder.

On the bright side, she hadn't misused her powers again, right?


[ooc: open like a rooftop on a chilly afternoon.]

Thank God it's Monday.

That was the general idea of Arthur's mood in the salle that morning, yes. In fact, no amount of skittering elves or whatever they were could distract him from his rather pointed, joyful mauling of a practice dummy.

Yes. Thank God it's Monday.

[[ ooopen. ]]

George sat on the edge of the roof, looking out over the island that would eventually be his doman.

Once his tintillium concern came through, of course.

For now he was simply brooding over his lost love. She who was his ...sister.

Jennifer was far too amused by all the antics this weekend. She was popping popcorn in the common room. A lot of popcorn. She just hoped the entertainment would come to her... or she'd have to mount an expedition. With some fellow people not saddled by the insanity.

She figured it was something to do with her gamma irradiation. Thank goodness for it, she thought.

For now? Om nom nom, popcorn.

[ooc: So v. v. open]

Leda, orphan with a mysterious past, looked out over the town that had been her haven for the past several months. The motorcycle gang that had been hunting her had yet to find her here.

She didn't know what they wanted, but she suspected it had something to do with the birthmark on her left shoulder. And maybe, there was a clue there to her true parentage.

[For the purposes of SOW, Leda is not currently an elf. Post is very open.]

Jonothon Evan Starsmore, the stunningly handsome and ridiculously wealthy rock-star descendant of the late Jack Starsmore, heir of the vast Starsmore Fortune, esteemed leader of the mighty and powerful Clan Akkaba, and wielder of Mysterious Powers of Which He Never Spoke, lifted his guitar and took a pleased look around at his surroundings. The stage was set. The band was ready (even if they were all nameless, faceless individuals. The focus wasn't on them, here.)

No, no, the focus was on Jonothon, his hair perfect, his face perfect, his chest? Dare I say it? Perfect, as if sculpted by the hand of God himself. It would have been a shame to put a shirt on it, in spite of the time of year. And anyhow, this particular corner of the island was unseasonably warm. It would be a shame to not take advantage of the sunny sky, the green of the grass and the leaves in the trees, the warmth the day had to offer... and other types of heat, at that. Perfect chests were for showing off, and Jonothon would like to encourage all of his audience to partake in that very same mindset.

But all of that hardly mattered. What really mattered, here, was that there was to be a concert today. And, perhaps afterwards, Jonothon would let his most avid admirers backstage for a personal tour.

[Open! So very, very open.]

Just like yesterday, Dr. Alex Karev was back in the clinic, tending to the sick, the comatose, the pregnant, and the people that just needed a place to conveniently socialize. The exam rooms were still curtained off and no named nurses were going back and forth, checking on those that had been admitted. The waiting room was blessedly empty and Alex was kicked back behind the desk, writing on a clipboard and looking very busy as one usually is in a hospital.

His pager was blissfully quiet and Alex was grateful for the momentary downtime. Being a doctor was a tough job.

[second verse, same as the first. bring me your tired, your hungry, your comatose, your whatever! alex has a bad bedside manner (unless you're a girl or griff, apparently) so feel free to play off that. ocd is up! come in!]

Jaime had a huge bowl of fresh popcorn dripping with butter and drenched in s salt. He was sitting near the edge of the roof, just looking out. "Man," he shook his head, looking over at his companion, "this may be the weirdest thing that's happened since I got here. And that's saying something."

He snorted. "Does this sort of thing happen often?"

"And do you think we have enough popcorn for any other unaffected people who might show up?"

Dr. Alex Karev was stressed. People just kept coming and getting sick and dying on him. He couldn't seem to save anyone. Medical school, internships and residencies hadn't prepared him for being a real doctor. It was just so hard. But he was determined. And he was ready to give medical aid and advice to those who needed it. He'd handwritten signs and stuck them around the dorms that said SICK PEOPLE THIS WAY and pointed them in his direction.

After that, it meant moving things out of the way and getting himself some cots and chairs and curtains. He hadn't ever been away from Seattle Grace before but a small clinic would give him more of an opportunity to expand and help more people.

Plus, it meant he was in charge too. Alex, you see, liked power. This was his clinic and he'd run it how he damn well pleased. He might not be all that prepared to be a full fledged doctor but the best way to learn was jump into the fire and get some practical experience.

He was a doctor, dammit.

[this is exactly what it looks like! makeshift clinic post for those that are in comas, preggo, have tropical diseases, or just wanna hang out in hospitals and talk to doctors who are always on breaks like people do on soaps! alex totes thinks he's a doctor and a damn good one. he has awful bedside manner so be prepared! first floor is open to everyone!]

Claire Bennet had a perfect life. She was the head cheerleader, the most popular girl in school and she had the most wonderful boyfriend on the planet.

However, there was one thing that plagued her. She didn't know who her real father was. Her biological mother had recently confessed that Nathan Petrelli was not her father.

[flashback of Meredith's tearful confession, ending with a close-up on Claire's stricken expression.]

Unfortunately, her mother had been killed by a meteor before she could share the name of Claire's true father.

[flashback of a meteor crashing through the roof of a gorgeous house and a huge glass chandelier falling on Meredith.]

Now Claire must pour through her mother's diaries in an attempt to learn the truth about who she is. If only she had discovered that Nathan was not her father while Peter was still alive...



[open like a common room]

Yep, Mirax was still in the common room. Though she'd gotten tired of her treasure hunt for ornaments and had fallen asleep on the sofa in front of something on the TV that had yet to go to informercial.

At least there was no snoring?

[For me! And as of this post, SOW is a go!]

Mirax was loving the odd stuff this week. Sure, the egg nog shower was nothing she would ever discuss with anyone, and the elf costume hadn't been entirely flattering even if the bells on the shoes made a pretty noise, but the little Christmas tress had been nicely festive, and as the day went on, finding ornaments everywhere had become sort of like a game.

So while the TV was on for noise, Mirax was finding reasons to get up every now and then and check inside a drawer or something. She was amassing quite the little pile of stuff on the coffee table. And she didn't even know what Christmas was.


[Sooooo open.]

Since the island was apparently heading into massive Christmas mood and totally insistent that she wear the elf costume no matter how many times she'd changed during the day, Momoko decided to do some practice Christmas baking in the common room. Finding a recipe online for Christmas cookies wasn't hard to do, and the ingredients were all there, yay! But unfortunately it was still Momoko doing the baking.

"Ah! I burned another batch!" That was it. She stormed down the hall (as much as one can in such a cute outfit) with a still-smoking cookie tray in hand and knocked on a door. "Jaime? Are you hoooooome?"

She couldn't help laughing when he opened his door, so her request to help with the cookies took a bit longer to get out.

She was still giggling as she followed him back into the common room. "But you do look good in blue! Really!" And his elf costume was way more normal-looking than hers! "And it could be worse, you know!" She moved past him to dump the burnt cookies into the trash and set the cookie tray aside.


[Common room is open. Come mock the elves and their baking?]

It was cold, but not as cold as it would be in a few weeks. Didi took the comforter from her bed and a bowl of popcorn and mounted the stairs to the roof.

It was good, sometimes, to just look at the stars and think. She'd been on the island three months; as far as she could tell, she wasn't going home anytime soon.

It occurred to her that this should worry her more ... but for now there was popcorn and constellations. She could stay.

[OOC: Open to anybody who wants to stargaze!]

Last weekend's trip to Taris had shown Zayne that he was still leagues behind his fellow Padawans. He was pretty sure he knew why his lightsaber skills weren't up to snuff. Despite training with different swords and practice swords made up to be similar to lightsabers, it wasn't the real thing.

Fortunately, Zayne had the real thing and a place to practice with the real thing. And that's why he could be found in the salle tonight, using a training remote Master Lucien had given him.

It was going about as well as you would expect. Zayne was discovering just how much it stung to get hit by the remote's blasters.

[OOC: Salle is open, of course.]

So, it was December. That had been obvious enough when Alex had woken up to find his room littered with tiny Christmas trees. Never one to be all about Christmas, he'd rounded them up and shoved them in Griff's bed. Out of sight, out of mind.

Of course, coming down to the common room proved no better. There were Christmas trees here and there too and they made Alex scowl. He ignored them for the most part, only paying them attention to toss them off the couch so he could flop down and sprawl out. Now, he just needed to find something to watch that wasn't a Christmas movies.

Seriously, he didn't want to watch sappy love stories or old men learning suddenly having a change of heart all because they got haunted. Pass. The television wasn't being much help and he eventually settled on a stupid game show he'd watched before.

Well, now he'd spend his time irritated at stupid people and their inability to solve easy puzzles. Better than Christmas cheer.

[cr's open, of course!]

Most of the time Triela found spending time on the shooting range to be quite good at focusing her attention. Not that focus was often a problem. Training, inclination, and Conditioning all combined to keep her from becoming too distracted most of the time. Which, really, was a good thing on the range since guns were not toys.

But she was still distracted by her most recent trip home, and that meant that while she was at the range and needing to focus, she was obviously distracted. She showed up early, which wasn't unusual, but then she leaned back against the wall and stared off into space. No special activity, or even tea today.

Unless someone else brought them, which would be cool.