elsecall: (173)
jasnah kholin ([personal profile] elsecall) wrote in [community profile] diademlogs2026-02-07 10:05 am

—OPEN; journey before destination

Who: Jasnah Kholin + others
Where: Panorama + Fringes
When: February
What: Catch-all w/ open prompts and closed starters
Warnings: Will update if needed

—open prompts below, mostly focused on settling in during earlier february
—hit up my plotting comment if you wanna plan something specific. very happy to get a starter going for us!
—prose & brackets both welcome; i'll match you.
diametrically: (pic#16867165)

[personal profile] diametrically 2026-02-07 11:06 pm (UTC)(link)
[ Though Cassian has a propensity to want to help others but being out in the Fringes of Diadem is much like being out in space. Pulling up beside a stranded ship or car in this instance is a gamble. There was no shortage of stories of more naive, well-intentioned people that had been quickly overrun by pirates back home just like there is no shortage of that here. All you had to do was replace the word "pirate" for "raiders".

It's mostly why he's overly cautious, attentive for signs that would be a dead giveaway that it was a raider versus someone who actually needed help.

Even if he hadn't met Jasnah prior to this to sell her a phone, he still might have stopped. It's difficult to hide reluctance, especially since he had clocked quite early on that she held herself in such a way that screamed competence and independence. Cassian pulls up front of her car before getting out of his car as if anticipating needing to do some light mechanic work. It wouldn't be the first time.

As he gets closer he gives her a brief nod by way of hello before - ]


Car trouble? Or did you run out of gas?
churnback: (1129)

looting;

[personal profile] churnback 2026-02-08 12:57 am (UTC)(link)
[ On his way back to Panorama from the Scrapyard (a regular trip these days), sometimes he'll take a little detour if he's running low on supplies. He can get a few basic things from the shop to keep on hand, but there's never really a shortage of practical stuff he needs. Like anyone here. Stuff he can pawn, trade, or just consume, depending on what it is.

He pulls up by a place that looks like an old, abandoned diner. Probably a goldmine of stuff if it hasn't been picked clean by now; then again, zones like this pop up fast, sometimes disappear quickly. You get the timing right, you've got your pick of anything before someone else gets there.

Never lingers long in these places if he can help it. He's got a singular focus: get in, take what you can, get out. Now — there's always a hyper-awareness about the space around him. He knows all his exits the minute he steps inside. If anyone's here — or comes in after him — he'll catch on quick. Doesn't mean he's instantly aware of every single presence, especially if they're stealthy, but he didn't last this long on luck. Survival was carefully crafted.

They probably become aware of each other as he's stepping out of what would have been the walk-in. As in, she probably hears him grabbing a small, empty stainless steel bin — handy for keeping some tools stored — and he sees the edge of a shadow move past from the slight crack in the door.

Plenty of people here wanna fuck with others. Amos, he's just — getting by. If the person on the other side of the door wants to be a problem, he'll deal with it. Meanwhile, he doesn't like waiting for whatever it'll be — nothing or something. To him, he's perfectly fine just existing in the same space together until he fills up his pack. So he opens the door, shoving the small bin into the pack on his shoulder, looking for the figure he's sure he saw. Now, if they wanna hide and make this a thing, he can go that way, too. ]
pse: (pic#17652782)

all night diner!

[personal profile] pse 2026-02-08 01:19 am (UTC)(link)
[ Kimiko hasn't had the heart to return to her favourite burrito cart alone since returning from the forced sojourn in Acreage, so she ends up trying new places to refuel after her fights. She's learned she isn't a fan of Greek food, finding it altogether a bit too damp, but loves Thai. Tonight she goes for something that reminds her a bit of home, of before — an all-night diner attempting a pastel, retro 50s pastiche that wouldn't be out of place in one of New York's quieter boroughs.

Of course, every time she finds a new place to eat, she has to do the I'm mute, please be patient with me while I try to order mutely song and dance all over again. This time is no different.

Having someone observe this interaction, carried out at the front counter, with such a crisp and unashamed gaze — well, that's a new spin on it.

As the server goes to get Kimiko a hot chocolate, she glances over her shoulder. Spots Jasnah's gaze; it's awkward smile and wave time. ]
judgmentbolts: (09)

[personal profile] judgmentbolts 2026-02-08 03:08 am (UTC)(link)
[ Cid's been hunting for a spot for a while now. Working out of his motel room had been alright while he was doing small repairs and the like, but now that he's got a hunk of chroma to work with, he needs the space to set up properly. (He supposes that he could have asked Viktor if he'd have another body around, but Cid doesn't know him all that well as yet, and he's not too eager to make a nuisance of himself.)

The last vestiges of late evening light stream through the broken windows, casting deep shadows where Cid has been crouched by the wall. Having cut away a chunk of the drywall, he's busy fussing with the wiring, trying to see if he can figure out how much of it ought to be replaced. He'd been so focused on the task at hand that he hadn't been paying attention to much else.

Everything looking a bit shite means that, for the most part, people don't wander in... except for now, when they do.

At the sound of the empty cans tipping over, Cid is on his feet in a second, one hand going to the sword that sits at his hip.

He steps around the shelves carefully and — ]
Oh come on, I just picked that up. [ He looks from the cans on the ground to the woman standing in the isle, then slowly moves his hand away from his sword. ] That was you, then? What? It wasn't messy enough for your liking?

[ Cid sounds more exasperated than anything. He knows that he can't be all that annoyed; a few cans don't make much of a difference either way when it comes to the state of the place. (He did just pick those up though, because he'd tripped over them earlier himself.)

He'll wait to hear what she's got to say for herself, but he's got no interest in fighting anyone who's not here to cause trouble. ]
churnback: (067)

[personal profile] churnback 2026-02-08 04:30 am (UTC)(link)
[ In theory, this could be a tense situation, though not because of anything he'd personally do to spark it; he's not an escalator, he's just the guy who handles it when things get fucked. Preferably, the quickest way possible. Sometimes (many times, maybe) that means killing, but — nah, they're good.

His eyes are drawn to her swiftly moving hand first, of course. Assess a threat, a weapon she might be reaching for, but...whatever that was, those hands aren't packin' and something uncoils in him. His head tips in a brief nod. Though he wouldn't know it, of course, in contrast to her hammering pulse, Amos is calm and steady, like this is the most normal thing he could be doing right now. Ready, sure, if he needs to make a move, but clearly he doesn't. ]


Sure. Peaches are mine.

[ Said flatly, with a note in his voice that may convey a seriousness he doesn't actually feel. There's an array of cans, some with sickly sweet fruit drenched in syrup, some of that mushy green bean shit. All of it's just — food, in the end. If she's serious about splitting the cans, he couldn't give a fuck less which ones she claims. All of it is a step above most of the food he grew up with, and a lot of what they get stuck with out in the black. He'll vibe with whatever.

He waves a hand, silently offering for her to have a go at what she wants first. He'll busy himself rooting around in the drawers and cabinets for anything else of use. At this point, maybe, some people would offer up their name, maybe ask for hers, maybe pivot to any brief point of possible interest to ask about. Amos, though, is just fine operating under the assumption that they'll never say another word to each other and carry on in parallel silence until they're through here.

Or maybe they won't. And that's just fine, too.

Out in the dining area, away from their view at the moment, strange things are happening; the jukebox flickers off and on, all on its own. A seat at the counter swivels back and forth, back and forth. A cup of coffee is poured by an unseen hand, and menus are laid out all in a row on the countertop. Ready. Waiting for them. ]
expulse: (pic#18046076)

[personal profile] expulse 2026-02-08 01:59 pm (UTC)(link)
[ Mornings are not usually hectic for Sylus. Mostly because he's not much of a morning person—or a daytime person in general. He conducts his business as the sun begins to set, works throughout the night, and by morning is winding down for a well-deserved nap.

But he's not yet caught onto the rhythm of Panorama; is still learning the beats and notes of the population. Still learning where to press to make it sing the way he wants. Needless to say, he is particularly interested in a documentary at the moment, but the theatre is relatively large, and boasts plenty of poorly lit rooms. All of which means it makes a good enough location for him to throw some pursuers off his tail.

He tosses the helmet that he'd been wearing into one of the empty rows—the sudden sound of contact likely loud enough for Jasnah to hear—and then saunters over to where she's seated.

Sits down right next to her, and doesn't say a word. He looks suddenly engrossed in the documentary. ]
catharses: (080)

diner!

[personal profile] catharses 2026-02-08 08:03 pm (UTC)(link)
[ This particular diner is a place Sunday frequents, too, and those visits at first were for the same reasons. A place to go besides the motel which feels slightly more like home after spending months there when the length of time recently registered, but this habit? On restless nights, it's still his first choice.

Tonight's no exception as he steps inside and pushes his hood back, glad for it with the rainfall that's lighter than it's been the past few days though he doubts that'll last. The diner has a few more patrons than usual - or quite a few more as he scans the tables to find most of them occupied. In the process he catches Jasnah's gaze and nods politely, meaning for that to be the end of that interaction... only to realize in the next instant with one of two open tables being claimed by a couple who'd walked in ahead of him, that leaves the remaining table right next to the booth. Well.

Sunday approaches the table, takes a moment to remove his coat and drape it over one chair, then seats himself and casually glances again to find she has a notebook before her. His gaze doesn't linger long enough to give any impression of attempting to read what she was writing before he looks up. ]


It's not often I find others taking notes here.

[ Said mildly, and while withdrawing his own journal from his bag. Just as confirmation he's not making this up, for what it might be worth. ]
satanicpanics: (pic#15737640)

out of gas!

[personal profile] satanicpanics 2026-02-08 10:05 pm (UTC)(link)
[ Eddie really should still be in a hospital, but he has neither the funds to afford an extended visit, nor the patience for the white walls and the repeated insistence that he stay in bed, so he’s opted instead to continue with daily life, trying to fill every moment to avoid from spiraling into anxiety.

That includes helping the poor souls that can’t seem to get their vehicles to move for one reason or another. It’s a common thing for him now; he’s given fly-by driving lessons, changed tires, jumped batteries.

The van that Jasnah flags down has a hand-painted mural painted on the side of a scene featuring a dragon, a wizard, and a red sky full of bats. It slows, someone rolls down a window, and the face that peers out is framed by copious amounts of wild hair and a nice sized wound on his jawline and neck that’s in the process of healing. But he grins, and it’s friendly enough.
]

Hey.

[ He calls out over music that’s turned up at an ear-splitting level, before realizing that's probably not the best way to talk to someone and reaching over to turn it down. ]

You, uh, broken down or just…don’t know how to get it going? Which--not trying to imply anything. We get a lot of both.
micycle: (separate ways (worlds apart))

out of gas.

[personal profile] micycle 2026-02-08 11:36 pm (UTC)(link)
[ It would be a reasonable car to flag down, depending on your perceptions - or, for that matter, whether you're even from a world that has police. The light on top is flashing red and blue, but the rogue siren is at least staying off today, so Mike hasn't managed to accidentally pull anyone over on his trip to the scrapyard. Not this time, at least. Not a single use of the loudspeaker to clear up confusion, or tell people they can stop trying to toss bottles of booze out the passenger side windows.

He does, however, use it now, just as he slows the car down a few yards from Jasnah. ]


Do you, uh- need any help? [ Bracketed by radio static, but it's clear that he's young. Young, and a bit hesitant about the situation. You just never know out here, which is why he generally avoids the Fringes. He has no real weapons, aside from a baseball bat in the back seat, and his arm strength is close to that of spaghetti. ] I mean, like, other than fixing your car. I can't do that.

[ Please say no, please say no. ]
churnback: (087)

[personal profile] churnback 2026-02-09 12:36 am (UTC)(link)
[ There's a soft metallic clanging as he rifles through another drawer looking at cutlery and considering what could be useful to trade, to melt down, or even to substitute for a part in one of those in a pinch situations that bubble up. He's nearly oblivious to the company near him, and the quiet respect they've adopted is appreciated. This'll make the little detour here quicker and easier.

Away from the city, all pretense of predictability disappears, though. To Amos, Panorama — in its neon glittering decay and seedy underbelly — is, at least, familiar. Been a while, sure, but not a whole lot different from Baltimore. Everywhere's Baltimore, though, when you scratch the surface. But out here — anything goes. The zones that pop up are generally varying shades of harmless, just usually always different in some way.

So the music kicking up is just — that. Strange. Strange, he can handle.

His gaze lifts, he sets down a busted spatula that's not good even for scrap, and his eyes meet hers; a wordless question and answer exchanged in an instant as he gives a brief nod, to her, and towards the front, the same direction her head tilted. Yeah. Let's take a look.

To get to the front from the back area they're currently occupying, there's just a simple swing door that's seen better days as it flops precariously in its hinges. It'll creak when they nudge it open — whoever gets there first — and the sight greeting them on the other side will be a lively, fully lit jukebox continuing to play the same song (and it will continue to, over and over, on a loop, for longer than a normal song). There are multiple counter stools now swiveling back and forth, coffee pouring into a cup by someone who isn't there, for someone who isn't there. (Yet.) The menus laid out are standing up at attention, facing them both now. There's wording scrawled on them in messy ink, and it's clear even from a distance that what's on the menus isn't just food. Amos steps closer, observing the cup of coffee first, moving it out of the way, tipping it a little to the side, watching as the stream from the pot continues to pour and fall onto the floor now. Seemingly unbothered (on the surface), he pushes the cup back in place and tries to decipher the writing on the menus, though for the moment it's just — words in a jumble. Like a puzzle. Letters out of sequence. He looks over at his temporary partner in the land of the bizarre they've suddenly been plunged into, an eyebrow slightly raised.

In a move that's very thanks for the entertainment, but no thanks, he makes his way towards the front door. It's all harmless now, sure, but he's seen this goes sideways fast before, and yeah. Door won't open. ]


You had anywhere to be tonight? Might be a while.

[ He's already looking for something he can use to try to break the glass, though, spoiler alert: it won't break, at least while they're trapped in this loop that's just getting started. ]
judgmentbolts: (106)

[personal profile] judgmentbolts 2026-02-09 01:18 am (UTC)(link)
[ The woman's got the bearing of a soldier or a noblewoman, Cid thinks, and nearly a head's height on him besides... but she makes no move to reach for a weapon of her own, so he'll take what small blessings he can get. He's got no idea what to make of her expression, or the way she sets her shoulders as if to weather some insult.

He could have been a bit nicer, he supposes. Gotez would have scolded him for greeting someone like that.

When she speaks again, Cid raises an eyebrow at her. It's the question, more than anything else, that engenders some sympathy in him. ]


It was a shop, aye. [ Just a flat response, without judgement. He knows exactly how it is to see all of this for the first time. ] Hasn't been one for a while, so I thought I'd borrow it and have a go.

[ Without asking anyone for permission, obviously.

Cid pulls an old rag out of the pocket of his jeans so that he can wipe the sticky black dust from his hands. He should probably get some work gloves, but no one's going to sell him that in exchange for the pocket lint that comprises his current budget. ]
Have you just arrived, then? Looking for something?

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