#jasper 001

[jaceeverett]

WHO: Jason & @jasperbel

WHERE: Tumbleweed, countryside

WHEN: January, 2026

Dry January didn't exist in Jason's world. It wasn't that he drank all that much, and he had cut way back from his days fresh off the plane, so to speak, but it was a cold, blustery kind of day, so why not top it off with a beer and some Waylon and Johnny Cash wailing and crooning from the juke box in the corner? Shrugging out of his coat, he hung it on one of the coat racks just inside the front doors and headed for the bar, sliding onto one of the unoccupied stools next to an unfamiliar face. He was still dressed in his state park uniform; dark pants, snow-covered boots dripping from the rung of the stool to the floor, khaki shirt the top few left unbuttoned (every night, when his shift was done, the buttons were the first to go; Jason liked to breathe), the dim lighting of the bar picking up on the stress lines at the corners of his eyes, his mouth, but he was amiable enough as he greeted the bartender with a quick smile and a wave, "surprise me, whatever good's on tap today. I'm picking up my friend here's tab, too," he said, casting a glance to the side at the man next to him.

[sxriusly]

Sirius entered the Leaky Cauldron through its Diagon Alley entrance and immediately headed for the bar. Part of the problem with living in rural Scotland was that it was incredibly easy to be out of the loop. Sirius wasn’t a huge fan of gossip, he could care less about what was in the social column of the Daily Prophet, but he knew it could harm him if he was too out of it. So, every so often he made his way to the Leaky Cauldron to listen and learn what he had missed while living in the middle of nowhere.

It wasn’t particularly busy that afternoon, but there was probably still a thing or two he could learn. “Hi, could I just have a pint of Strongbow, please? Thanks.” His manners didn’t match his personality, but between Walburga and Euphemia, they’d become second nature to him.

@jmontague

[nottsoinnocent]

closed event starter for @jmontague​

It had been fairly easy so far to consider it a social event. Melaina had no interest in the Quidditch and even less in idea of sharing the stands with people who were less than upstanding. She floated around in an outfit too formal for the casual dress code and a hat that would look more appropriate at flying horse races than a Quidditch game and tried to stick to the upper box where she could get her fill of champagne and canapés without mingling with more unsavoury sorts. Her undesired date for the event, however, had decided they should take a walk through the stalls outside the stadium and Melaina drifted away from the Quidditch paraphernalia he was looking at to watch the little booth where they were offering temporary tattoos and face-painting. Why anybody would want a Quidditch team painted across their face, she had no idea, but it was still the most interesting thing she had seen all day. Until she turned and eyes fell on Jasper Montague. The runaway boy. They had been friends once. She had liked him. But it had been clear when he cut off his parents that she would have to cut off him. That was just the way this world worked.

She had stared just a little too long to be able to pretend she hadn’t seen him, so she offered a polite smile and a ‘hello’, torn between the desire to strike up a conversation and the feeling she should walk away.

[howlthorne]

Who: @ofharfordssWhen: Cocktail Hour, the Conclave

He recognized the man who had ended up stopping to pick up a new drink next to him: Remi had pointed out a few members of the pack so he could talk to them if he got a chance. Casper or… Jasper, or something? He really needed to get better at remembering names. He’d seen him drifting from group to group, bright smile and bright energy as he spoke with the visiting members of the other packs in town. It was worth a shot to speak to him, get to know a few other people in the pack he was trying to join.

It was pure luck that had the guy stopping at the drinks table Lucas had been posted near, close enough that he could lean over and ask a question. “What’s your take on the new packs in town? Those Berserkers seem like they know how to have fun.”

[sonofgravesilence]

Garden Paths | Closed Starter for @ofthelandherises​

It wasn’t that Mark was avoiding everyone in camp once they’d gotten back. He was just finding places to be that no one else was. Poking around buildings only did so much, and he was honestly a little scared to go tromping through the woods on his own. So he’d set his heart on finding a garden- it’d been the place he felt happiest and safest in Alexandria, maybe it’d be the same here. 

A greenhouse seemed a bit modern for the expectations he had of this place. There was a focus on tradition and ancient techniques for a lot of things. Personally, Mark thought their war against Eris could go a lot faster if they gave the right demigod a rifle and a magical bullet. But there were touches of modernity here and there, mostly in places the demigods frequented. 

So he’d checked around the building, seeing the lush flora within but no people and he’d thought it was safe to explore. But for all his sense of direction and memory he’d gotten lost. In a building. Made of glass. A grateful prayer went to his father, and then any of the other gods that might be listening- at least no one had seen what a fool he made of himself.

The last few turns he’d taken had been more and more overgrown. He didn’t recognize most of the plants at this point, and his frustration was getting the better of him. So he smacked away a pair of branches that had grown out to the path at eye-level. Unbidden, the image of the newborn tree guardian in Egypt came to mind and he winced before taking one of the leaves between his fingers. “Sorry about that,” he muttered before smoothing his thumb over the veins of the thin tissue. A sigh barely escaped him as he turned back the way he’d come. “I just wanna get the fuck out of here, why is this place so big?”