introducing the SHOUTING ROCK

[doggedly]

CHARACTERS: EVERYONE, ANYONE but Sirius Black is doing the initiation
LOCATION: THE SHOUTING ROCK, a large craggy boulder which stands just to the southern border of what centralized camp has been (moved and re-) constructed
WARNINGS: SHOUTING
SUMMARY: there is important information that needs to be disseminated and since there's no network and no owl post, we have to resort to old fashioned methods. that means SHOUTING IT AT EACH OTHER.
NOTES: backdating this just slightly to September 13. also mostly this is for action tags and quick meet-ups and discussions of any weird discoveries - so please feel free to carry on your own brief scenes below. shout back and share planet info and threadjack and heckle each other and carve all over the Shouting Rock. this is the worst Town Hall meeting ever.



The shouting could have occurred at a more inconvenient time. To anyone that lodges complaints about the shouting, Sirius will be sure to mention this very important fact: shouting could have occurred at three in the morning, jungle time, when the camp was hushed in sleep after its recent new additions and recent generalised reacclimation of makeshift tents et al, some distance from what's left of the Tranquility. And after all of that, and finally getting to sleep, only to be woken by shouting? Merlin, just think of how irritating an early-morning Shouting Rock declaration would have been.

(This is still a little irritating.)


"IMPORTANT ANNOUNCEMENT."

Like a text post to the network, bolded. Sirius shouts with his hands cupped around his mouth. No magical amplification, which is another point of luck for you all. So, too, is the fact that Survey Rock has yet to be established. This is Shouting Rock, and Sirius is standing on it and shouting to the camp at large.

"JUST SO EVERYONE KNOWS. If you go that way--" And he points south-west-wards, back toward the way that they came-- "--And you go off into the woods and follow along the river, you're going to get about a day and a half or so, and then you won't be able to go any farther. And I mean you really won't! Nosebleeds, the whole bit. If that's what does it for you, enjoy yourself out there, but for the rest of us, it's like the good old TQ all over again. Some things never change. So, you know. Take care! And there's these massive beasts out there roaming around. Huge, absolutely huge, and not easy to take down. If you can get at one, it'll have good meat on it. They don't seem to have any trouble with nosebleeds. Might be their horns. Blocks it up or something."

A gesture, for horn-on-nose, side of his wrist pressed to his nose. Very educational.

"And, finally--" Wishful thinking, if you thought Sirius was done there. If anything else, this bit gets shouted a little louder than the rest: "I've got a seriously brilliant reward for the first person that can do anything about making alcohol! Alcohol, right? Of any sort, so long as it's halfway to drinkable. We bloody well need it."

With an air of brisk finality, he claps his hands together. Important bit delivered; important announcements sorted.

"Right, that's it. Anyone else that's got anything to say, this is your Shouting Rock, and I now declare it open. Make good use of it!"

Anyone that gets closer to the rock will find that name carved in the side, done in letters three feet high:

THE SHOUTING ROCK

Bit of a shaky hand, since it was magic that actually carved it. It's the thought that counts.

Speak now, Jungleites, or forever hold your peace.

Comments

[hairrands]

Someone else is an early riser, so the shouting in that godawful accent isn't what gets her. It's the fact that someone has carved themselves a soap box, for real here, only bigger. AJ is both a little bit disgusted and a little bit thrilled.

When Sirius finishes yodeling, she thrusts a nod his way, signalling what she hopes will be conveyed as a 'drinkie drinkie' gesture by twitching thumb down, pinky up over her mouth. The priorities in life, right?

Anyways, she doesn't want him or anyone else to know that about three quarters of the way to that dead-line along the river is where she and Algidus meet to shoot the breeze and fish for acid bacon-beasts, so all the better to lure this guy and others off the scent.

[doggedly]

Fortunately for AJ, 'twitchy thumb down, pinky up over mouth' is the universal gesture for 'drinkie drinkie'. This means that she ends up looking less mental than if it were not the universal gesture. But the gesture does not denote any subtleties. Does it mean agreement? Does it mean she's depserate? Does it mean that she's been holding out but is now willing to share?

Mysterious abound. Sirius makes note, and when he jumps off of the Shouting Rock, he does so with purpose in mind: to stroll over to her, hands in the pockets of his jeans.

Expectantly, he raises his eyebrows, just as cool as always. A little smile takes off some edge of aloofness, something very nearly friendly. "And?"

[hairrands]

Noting his hands in his pockets, AJ frowns and lifts her eyes to the man, preoccupied for a moment by considerations of how some people had managed to receive (or find) clothing anything other than hot, sticky, canvassy jumpsuit. Had she simply drawn the short stick or was there more to it?

Regardless, his brief question caused her to refocus. Crossing her bare arms--for she'd ripped the sleeves of said suit off a day or so ago--she gave a careful shrug. "What's it worth to you if I know how to get some?"

[doggedly]

"Canny." A compliment, even if he smirks a little when he says it. It's an appreciative smirk, innit. Sirius frees one hand from a pocket to scratch thoughtfully at his chin. His stubble looks handsome and artful, as if it's been cultivated and is not the result of a month and a half's worth of poor shaving materials.

"But too open," he adds, after a beat. "I mean, it's not as if we've any of us very much to trade with, yeah? I'm a bit skint." He plucks at his dirty black t-shirt as proof. Just the clothes on my back, miss, a poor man indeed. "But I could get you, say... a proper tent. With pegs and poles and everything."

So, maybe not so poor a man. Riches in real estate.

[hairrands]

Riches in real estate is one thing, but AJ likes to think she's got a bigger picture in mind, and the way that she sneers at his offering says as much. Then again, she's just taken it as some kind of come-on, so she's busy restraining herself from snapping at him.

Playing nice is fucking hard, but for the sake of trying to get off this planet, she's going to keep trying.

"What I want is bigger than that, and I don't really expect anyone to have everything or even a lot of it in one place, considering the state of you. All of you," she added, though that dirty shirt is saying something about his state of affairs, alright. "What I can offer is maybe a steady supply, eventually, if maybe you can help me find a way to send a signal off this planet. Even if you can point me to one of these people who might be able to help, I'd remember the favour."

[doggedly]

Oh, thinks Sirius. His smile doesn't flag for a second. So that's how it's going to be.

"'Bigger than that'," he repeats. He scratches his chin again, thoughtfully. "A bigger tent, now that's easy. One of those known commodities, y'know? 'Cos we've got tents. What we haven't got is electricity, or the department formerly known as 'Comms', or even full memories. Or something," he adds, as an afterthought, "still not quite clear on that bit. But since I seem to have an idea of who you'll want to be talking to, how about you take this time to qualify what you mean by 'maybe' you can offer a steady supply. 'Eventually'. Not very promising words, if we're bartering."

He does a half-shrug. Half apologetic, i.e., not very.

[hairrands]

"So we're both half-ways shit out of luck," AJ backpedals, twisting her mouth at his snarky tone. She hasn't heard anything about lost memories, but with the way that he's talking, she doesn't think he'll give her much more about it... but she still is feeling thwarted, and frustrated, so she holds up both index fingers, asking for a moment to think.

"Okay, so I'll come clean with you, if you'll hear me out," she finally says. She's stepped back from her earlier posturing a little, mostly because she knows that she doesn't have a lot to lose at this point. "I know how to make the stuff, but I'll have to find supplies to make everything in, and I'll have to find out what ferments around these parts... I mean, people are eating leaves, but who knows if they get you hammered if you put them out to rot in sugar with the, you know, local microbial wildlife." She'd begun spinning her hand, walking through the process in the most general way possible. "So I might be able to get you something, and I'm willing to work out how to make it, but it's going to take time."

As far as bartering goes, she knows it's a pretty weak stance, but she's getting the feeling that just about everyone around here's not exactly standing on their strongest leg for hidden caches. "You can maybe tell me who knows how to hook us up. I can do electricity, too, but building a solar panel from scratch is a lot harder than it sounds."

[doggedly]

Fermenting, sure. Local microbial wildlife, less sure, but Sirius continues to observe her, still quite cool, as if he is quite sure.

It helps that her offer of trade is rather less-than-sure itself. You don't have to know the definition of microbial to know that she's got something of a plan--but a plan that's entirely dependent on a great many 'mights' and no immediate idea of a result timeline. Which is a pity, really, because he could use a result of those efforts right now. A good strong one, no ice. Maybe a dash of water (non-acidic).

Then again, better offers have not yet been forthcoming. The promise of future whisky is better than the promise of no whisky at all, and Sirius has ever been a man of risk.

"Dunno how I feel about all those mights," he says anyways, with a sceptical-but-rueful smile. Thoughtfully, he scratches this time at his jaw. This is a time-honoured tactic of businessmen and negotiators the world over, both wizarding and otherworld. Delay, delay, delay. "If I think of it as an investment, I s'ppose I feel a bit stronger about it."

A beat, and then he sticks out his hand, abruptly.

"All right, you've convinced me. I can do better than maybe telling you who to talk to, I can absolutely tell you. And you can start with your end of the bargain--on two conditions. First being, you tell me when you've got an idea of product availability. That'll take some time, I know," as he waves off any protest, "I'm not unreasonable. Just thirsty."

[hairrands]

"I can do you one better," AJ snorted. "I can bring you the half-fermented swill if you want to make yourself blind. It's gonna take time, though, but I guess we got a lot of that. I'll find you first, though." She brought her hand out to shake, considering the deal more or less done.

"Hey, I know this sounds stupid, like 'you know Bob from Toronto' kind of stupid, but you know that Potter guy? You two have the same talk going on." Sirius much less crass, perhaps ironically, but then this had been a fully professional exchange and not an impromptu goo-bath meet-and-greet.

[doggedly]

He accepts the handshake when she offers it, but she brings up Potters before he can bring up blind jokes, or condition number two. Fortunately for AJ, Potters just happen to be one of his favourite topics.

"What--English, d'you mean?" Eyebrows raised, he considers her somewhat sceptically, as if she's offended him just slightly. All that assumptive. Bob from Toronto indeed. "And is it Mr H. Potter or Mr J. Potter? That will help me to decide on how flattered I'm going to be, in my next comment," he explains, without missing a beat.

[hairrands]

"Do I look like I fucking remember all the names and details of the people I meet when I think I'm about to fucking die in a flaming metal wreck?" So maybe she's hyperbolizing, but it's a bad habit. "The one with the glasses," she tries to clarify. Mr. H. is not one that she's yet met.

[doggedly]

"Oh, was it on fire?"

Impervious to theatrical swearing, Sirius glances mildly over his shoulder, back toward where the Tranquility has decided to reside.

"J. and H. both have got glasses, actually. And black hair--only J. Potter spends a great deal of time doing this idiotic hair ruffle. You'd know it if you saw it instantly." In inadequate demonstration, he hovers a hand over his own fantastic hair. "And they're both Englishmen. Wizards. Different coloured eyes. Was he goo-covered or no?"

[hairrands]

AJ found herself breaking into a laugh despite herself. "Goo, definitely fucking goo. Wizards, now you're pulling my fucking leg. Only wizard that guy was was over a fucking table-top. +1 nerd, okay?"

IMPOSES MAGIC but it's benign lmk if this is not ok

[doggedly]

The nuances of the tabletop reference go right over Sirius' head, but even if he had the pop culture knowledge with which to understand, he would still not acknowledge it because a more important turn has been taken in this conversation. One that starts with: you did not just insult James Potter.

Muggle baiting is rather beneath him. But this isn't baiting. This is defence of a friend. Sirius' smile neither flags nor fades as he casually pushes a hand into his pocket.

"I'm not pulling your leg."

But something is. Suddenly, quite suddenly, an invisible hand is tugging at the cuff of one leg of AJ's jumpsuit. The force exerted is the same as if someone has pinched the fabric between thumb and forefinger and done a few quick pulls. Hey, look here, only there's nothing to see.

Always fine with it unless it's like cruciatus horribleness!

[hairrands]

And AJ drops her nose to look, all the hair metaphorically standing up on the back of her neck as she expects some kind of oversized bug or rodent. But there's nothing. Now might be a good time to whack her in the nose, if Sirius is the sort to use the oldest trick in the book, but if he doesn't, she levels a full-force glare on him. "How'd you do that?!"

gooooood, gooooooooooooooood

[doggedly]

He doesn't whack her in the nose. That's the sort of treatment better saved for enemies, and she's not put herself there yet. Fifty points lost over that James Potter insult, but at least she's not Snivellus.

"What?" Blandly innocent. He blinks, his hands in his pocket. "Me? I didn't. What was it that I'm meant to have done, precisely? Pulled your hair? Tweaked your nose? Tugged at your trouser leg? My hands are up here," demonstrated by a shrug of his shoulders, briefly lifting his confined hands. "Couldn't have been. Could it?"

[hairrands]

AJ set her jaw so hard as she glared at him that she may as well have grown a second chin. "Listen, I might be new around here, but I fucking know when someone is fucking around with me. Anyways, I've seen people blowing shit up and making things appear out of thin air, you definitely fucking pulled my pants, don't look at me like I'm some kind of idiot."

She had her hands up, not fully, but enough that it looked like she was thinking hard about holding something. It was the try-hard psionic version of a person sticking a hand in her jacket, though the last thing that AJ was thinking of was pulling some kind of clunky gun from the back of her mind.

Since her encounter with Rey a couple of weeks ago, she'd been boggling her mind trying to figure out how the scarred woman had managed to whip something out of nothing. She'd only managed to do it herself, once, but it had been huge. Now she was going big, aiming for a sharply twisted wet towel. ...Aiming being the important word, here. Distracted, all she was getting for her efforts was more sweat than was polite in company.

[doggedly]

"Uh-huh," says Sirius, patiently, in the tone of voice one might reserve for hysterical girls one is unimpressed with and small children of the same ilk, "right," all the while observing her. After a moment, he lowers his raised hands and tries to arrange them in imitation of hers, the precise positioning and crook of fingers and thumbs and wrists.

Nothing happens for her. Nothing happens for him, either, but he's not concentrating any effort because he's not quite sure of what she's meant to be doing in the first place. Mouth pinched up at the corner, he raises his gaze back to her face.

"Is this some sort of fit you're having?"

[hairrands]

"Shut the fuck up," AJ snaps without even realizing how exceedingly unprofessional she's being. Growing up with a passel of older brothers has done her in for keeping cool under pressure. It's also taught her to try harder under the face of criticism, though whether for good or ill...

She'll blame the mugginess of the jungle later, but after a straight minute of straining, a towel the size of a hand-cloth appears between her hands, pulled taut in an instant. It's initially cold enough that it could have been a very refreshing little summons, but that dissipates almost immediately, and moreover AJ is crowing as she expertly twists the damned thing up.

...Not that the joke is relevant anymore, damn it, but she's armed and dangerous and any more pranks are not going to be tolerated. "Try tugging my fucking pant leg again," she warns him, feeling about as high as a new sheriff in town.

[doggedly]

"Touchy."

Not that he's bothered. It's just an observation. Anyways, her efforts come to fruition after a moment more of her straining: a small towel. Not very impressive. Her wrapping technique is, coming from a semi-professional tormentor and wrapper-of-terrycloth-rat's-tails.

Again, it should be said that Sirius is not a muggle-baiter. Nor is he a bully. But his sense does list toward the slightly-cruel more often than not, and he can't resist taking someone down a peg or two. Or coming out on top. Pride goeth before the fall and all that rot, but Sirius is ever determined not to fall, and he's got an edge of magic to help with that.

"All right," he says, almost wearily, "but I dunno what you're talking about--and you asked for it, remember that--"

And again, comes the tug at her trouser-leg, once, sharp, but he's got his wand in hand as well, down at his side, ready to defend against a whipping--

[hairrands]

...And despite the fact that he is obviously not baiting, she falls for the innocuous not-bait with the fierce pride of someone who is too stoked on her own small accomplishment or too stupid to recognize the danger lurking directly in front of her.

To be fair, she doesn't whip him straight away, but strafes around him as though she's aiming to strap his ass: she's far more polite than her brothers, given she doesn't go for nut-shots on strangers nor business partners. "Suck it!" she crows, overinflated ego prime for the popping.

[doggedly]

Yeah okay.

Cool, calm, collected: these are all words that would describe Sirius Black at present. He does not so much as bat an eye as she springs into violent arse-whipping action. Either he is stupid, or--

Or doesn't really matter. The twisted end of the towel comes within a hair's breadth of snapping his arse, and then it diverts out of nowhere--suddenly, sharply, as if it's met some sort of invisible towel-repelling wall that bounces it off and redirects the strike back on itself, twisting it toward AJ to snap at her forearm instead, a strike with all her original force in it.

CRACK.

[hairrands]

Given her bare arms, her practical and at once tough-guy look with the ripped off sleeves, that snap burn has absolutely nothing stopping it. AJ yelps and drops the summoned towel, which dissolves before it even hits the ground. The mark, however, does not. Clutching at her forearm--spitting on it, in fact, before covering it over with her hand, she gives a hearty curse. "Are you fucking kidding me?!" she snaps, though she refrains from leaping on him and trying to put him in a headlock. She's not so incredibly stupid that she's going to believe he's otherwise defenceless.

"How in fuck's name did you do that?!"

[doggedly]

Again, Sirius shrugs. His demeanor remains nonchalant, rather too nonchalant for a man claiming to have had nothing to do with the tugging of the trouser leg. A man who had nothing to do with it would have been at least a little surprised by her loud and foul-mouthed reaction, never mind the self-snapping action of the towel--and yet Sirius looks as if this sort of thing might happen every day.

Because, of course:

"Dunno. But I s'ppose that sort of thing would be easy, for a wizard. Wouldn't it. Pity they're the subject of jokes and not actually someone you're faced with, innit."

[hairrands]

"'Innit,'" AJ retorts, drawing herself up for a full-force glower. "You know what, I have seen a lot of crazy shit, and I'm not going to fucking say you're not a fucking magical ass-face, because I'd be shoving my foot down my throat if I couldn't admit to the fact that people are more than they look like, sometimes, but just because you've got some kind of fucked up dark and satanic pants-pulling powers doesn't mean you're not being a shit about it."