[ Ah, the cheerful sight of vaguely evolved trash cans, taking a street by storm! Nothing too especial today, except -

...this squad of five Dalek representatives keeps rotating in one and... carrying an organized protest? Chanting? Cheerleading?! ]

SE. TSU. NA. GIVE. GIVE. SE. TSU. NA. GIVE. SE. TSU. NA. SE. TSU. NA. SETSUNA. SETSUNA. GIVE. SETSUNA. SETSUNA. SETSUNA. SE. TSU. NA. GIVE. SETSUNA...


[ Rosiel, meanwhile, will be visible somewhere in the background, quite openly facepalming. ]


...ah. Don't engage indeed.


[ ooc: yes, he tried controlling the Daleks. No, it did not go quite as planned. The 'protesting' Dalek team will be trolling through the City, doing its... cheering, for all to kick around :( b ]

[Cinna's using the camera feature to record what used to be the front of passione. Right now it's a mangled mess of glass, brick and ruined clothing. Luckily, most of the damage seems to be at the front of the building, the cafe and the salon both seem to be largely untouched.

Cinna's puppy is poking and sniffing his way around the wreckage. He finds a dress that looks delicious and takes it off to a corner to play with, ripping it and shaking it in his jaws like a happy little bundle of fashion destruction. You can hear Cinna start to say something chastising and then stopping himself, staring again with a resigned sigh.]

Oh, all right, Finick, you can have it, just this once. But no shoes, we might be able to salvage some of them.

[He turns the camera back on himself, his expression serious, but not devastated.]

Apparently high fashion was lost on yesterday's visitors, that or someone here in the City didn't look before they blew something up. Regardless, passione will be closed until this is cleaned up and repaired, but the salon and cafe are still in perfect working order and all appointments will be honored.

Is everyone still in one piece out there?

[ooc: Monday morning. If you would like to take responsibility for accidentally blowing up the front of Cinna's shop, you certainly may. Or we'll just say the Dalek's did it. Torchwood strikes again. Nice shootin', Gwen.]

[ It's fitting. Elena has lost pretty much every parental figure in her life. Now, she's lost Alaric literally after almost losing Alaric - well, literally. She can play that night in her head like a movie. It's the first morning where she has to remind only herself to wake up and keep breathing. She doesn't have Jeremy to motivate - hell, he's in Denver. Jenna's gone in more ways than one. She's utterly alone.

But, she's Elena Gilbert.

She doesn't give up and she doesn't spend all day in bed. This is the equivalent of a break-up in some ways. What Stefan's done before Elena ended up here for most people is unforgivable. But, Elena is not most people.

Elena deals. She moves on. She perseveres.

But there's one thing that she hasn't dealt with before. This incessant ticking she can't shake. At first it was dull, soft. She thought she was making it up. It isn't like she's never been in a house alone before. But, it's been three days and that hasn't changed. Couple it with the rousing war that went on? She's a little shaken up. But, she's making a real attempt at hiding this. ]

Do people here... hear ticking? It's getting worse and if it's a curse I want to know how long I have to wait before it ends.

[ It's... incessant. ]

Those Daleks were dangerous. I'd ask if that happens often but... [ She knows the answer. ]

Is there a school here? Or a - college? [ She'd like to not lose out on her senior year of high school. ] Classes I could sign up for?

[ Maybe asking for a job is pushing it. She's only been here for a weekend. And Daleks attacked the day before. So, she keeps back that part of her post for now. But, then she glances at her refrigerator. ]

There are jobs here, right? I should start making money if I want to eat or keep this apartment... I know everything just happened, so I'm not... asking to be hired right away or even this week. But, I'm putting my interest out there.

[Lockdown's back on his ship, in his trophy room, tightening some bolts on his chainsaw.]

Well, that was a hell of a thing yesterday. Did get a couple'a new trophies outta it.

[He points the camera downward, showing a couple of Dalek shells. One's welded to a flat base, the other's on a stick.]

[Rummy pops up from some nearby bushes, looking down at himself and generally acting as if he'd just woken up from a dream. He even pinches himself.]

Holy shit, I'm alive. Unless this 's Hell. Then again, not like there's a big 'nough difference.

[ooc: He got vaporized during that whole thing. Is what happens when going against an alien that's a better shot than you.]

Now City, it was nice of you to bring a reminder of home, but next time, I'd really just prefer to have Anwen and Rhys. They're a lot less destructive. Well, most of the time.

A picture would do if you couldn't find a way to bring them.

After the events of yesterday, I believe it is time that I checked in to see who is still alive. If only to calculate how many foolish maneuvers were performed yesterday.

You know who you are so I would suggest responding to this. [He's referring to you, Potter Crew.]

Hopefully casualties remained one per family.

[Neil is tired and ticked off and scared and still has some fading bruises on his face, so he's going to hide for now.]

So, I'm at the Welcome Center annnnnnnnnd... I think I've outlived my welcome. Anyone need a roommate who... doesn't have a job?

Anyone got a job...?

Yesterday's creatures - terrible looking things, but rather magnificent warriors.

It reminded me of the taste of battle again. I suppose I should say this here, if anywhere, but if anyone is looking for a spar, with weapons or without, I am available. Unfortunately, training Mister Stark doesn't give you everything you need, and of the other oponent I know most his tricks. A challenge should be nice.

Thor, we should go hunting. Are there forests to do that here?

[ooc; WHAT ARE FILTERS?]

DELACROIX to CHASE et ALL: 26-03-???? re: No.

[As for the rest of this... Delacroix has appeared on the network, looking... sour. Which certainly is not news to anyone, but her sourness today has a musical accompaniment: Viva Las Vegas, indeed. Ugh.]

Really, Dr. Chase?

[She could not possibly inject anything more withering into that tone without draining the life from something. She gives an irritated little sigh.]

I am not a fan. And keep my colleagues out of your games.

[[ooc; I am always okay with people running into her for action... You know you want to investigate that Elvis tune...]]

[Lucy is making fried chicken when she turns the video on with sticky, flour covered fingers. She dredges a piece of chicken through egg wash and then rolls it in flour before dropping it in the deep fryer.]

I'm contemplating one of those trash chutes. You know the kind you put in the wall and it goes straight down to a big dumpster? I never want to see a trash bin again.

Mae, Stephen, are you guys okay?