ataraxionlogs | introducing the SHOUTING ROCK

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introducing the SHOUTING ROCK

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.

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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."

"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.

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.

"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.

"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?"

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?"

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.

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?!"

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?"

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.

"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?"

"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.

"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--

...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.

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.

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?!"

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."

"'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."

He answers her rancor with a blithe and cheerful smile. "You know--" Conversationally, in contrast to her clipped words, and he pushes a hand through his hair-- "You know, I've actually been called a shit before, for similar reasons. Quite frequently. Funny."

Perhaps he ought to draw conclusions from that? But no, instead, he just sucks in a breath, briskly--reflection period over--and moves on.

"It's hardly dark and satanic, though. That's subscribing to a backwards and outdated mode of thinking, that is, especially the latter. And I've never done dark magic before. Disgusting."

"Whatever, buddy." AJ had settles her hands on her belt, at least until she loses her composure again. She contemplates the road he's laid out before her, conversationally speaking, but it's a road she's peered down many, many times with her own family, religious people that they are--were, really--and she knows where it all leads, one way or another.

"So you might have tents, you might have useful gear, but you definitely have something up your wizard-sleeve. I get you alcohol, you owe me a few useful skills. Spirits for, you know, spells or whatever."

Well. At least she's calling his sleeves wizard sleeves. Sirius glances down at his arms, and the short shirtsleeves of his t-shirt. Hardly the billow robes that muggles associate with wizards (and with good reason), but maybe that's good. Her use of the adjective implies some level of acceptance, and though he doesn't need to prove himself to anyone--and certainly not to her--the acknowledgement is nice.

"Spirits for spells," he says, agreeably, "or whatever. Yeah, all right." He holds a hand out to her, as a gesture of finalisation. "It's a deal."

She can't tell if he's taken her joke for the crass level that he implied it, or if it's gone straight over her head, but either way, AJ isn't sure that Sirius is honest-faced enough that he wouldn't grin to her face while lighting a fire-cracker tucked in the ass-pocket of her pants, so she regards his extended hand with extreme suspicion for a moment.

She knows, now, that he could easily have placed some unseeable version of a zapper in that palm and she would be none the wiser. On the other hand, he's holding a jug of Double Moon and that has got to count for something. He's got to understand that this has been a month and change of hard work for her, hasn't he? AJ extends her own hand, clasping his firmly with slim, knobby knuckled-fingers in a shake before she can regret her decision.

He returns her handshake, firmly. No buzzers, no magic tricks, no (perhaps surprisingly) fireworks. His grin might suggest caution, or inspire some wariness, but for now, he doesn't act on it.

"Then it's a deal." The handshake goes on just a bit too long--two or three shakes extra--and then he lets go and steps back, and knocks off a salute at her. "Spirits, spells. Pleasure doing business with you, miss, I'm sure. Make sure you don't eat any suspicious mushrooms in the meantime, or fall off of anything high. I'd hate to lose my source."

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introducing the SHOUTING ROCK

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

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

gooooood, gooooooooooooooood

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Ughhh sorry for typos. Past is my native tense so editing sometimes fucks me up

no worries!!! I didn't even notice