#frostborn.start

[frczenone]

open starter location: indoor training area

sometimes, but not often, anders will get this feeling. it's an awful gnawing in the pit of his stomach, pulling at his core. it's telling him to run. to leave. he really hates when it gets like this.

the only thing that seems to help is beating the shit out of something.

so to preserve the last remaining pieces of his sanity, that's what he does. he makes his way to the training area, and he hits the training dummy until his knuckles are bruised. he wails on that thing like it owes him something, like it wronged him. he only stops when the only thing he can feel is his biceps on fire.

anders is hunched over and out of breath when he sees the other person.

"oh shit. almost scared me." he takes a deep breath, standing up straight. " i think i'm done, s'all yours if ya want it. "

[friigiids]

status: open starter location: communal area

bishop couldn’t contain the literal giggles escaping him at that moment. it was a rare moment of glee for the man. “ok ok ok. i got another one. but this is the last one. i swear. what do you call it when a snowman throws a tantrum?”

he didn’t wait for their response, quickly filling in with: “a meltdown.”

bishop leaned back in his chair, raising his hand. “i’ve got more in the tank, but we’re going to be walled up in this icy hell for quite some time. so, i better save them for when i’m old, yeah?”

fifty-nine! but still a spry, spring chicken.

the thought reminded him of spring. ah. yeah. spring. something he’d most likely never see again. there it was. the dread of an eternity of ice had settled on his shoulders again. perfect. 

[shaktea]

open starter | feel free to assume any light connections/message for plotting location: somewhere near the walls that border jericho, @ night

Maybe it was some light masochism that implored Shakti to always volunteer to work security's night shift, or at least that's what it felt like with the cold cutting into his bones like a million tiny knife points. Some nights the cold wasn't that bad-- usually the nights he spent in the wood shop, blood set to boil with how hard he tended to work in there-- but tonight, with this pattern of pacing and climbing/descending the walls for routine checks; the wind was a cruel and viperous thing. Some three or four hours into his shift, Shakti's expectedly-high nerves calmed a little bit, as lights and bonfires all over Jericho visibly began to fade, indicating that most people had turned in for the night. This meant that his job would be a little easier until morning. However, given his slightly-calmer disposition, it meant that he was only that much more panicked to hear the snow crunching beneath someone's feet not far from where he stood. He immediately turned towards the noise, reaching for his flashlight, and attempting to turn it on. A few calculated slams of his palm against the base of it, and it finally flickered to life, shedding adequate light over the nightwalker. Immediately, Shakti exhales a sigh of relief, laughing internally at himself for thinking that it would be an iceberg. The likeliness of it was surely nothing to worry about on an otherwise ordinary night. "I can't imagine you're just out for a leisurely walk in the dark," he says with a wry expectedness in his cold-fractured voice. "What are you doing out here this late? It's gotta be negative 60 with this wind chill."