Open RP post for Maggie Garcia

[talesuntold]

Because we chose to tell the truth
(The cool of age, the rage of youth)
And stand against the lies of old
(The whispers soft, the tales untold)
We find ourselves the walking dead
(The loves unkept, the words unsaid)
And in the crypt of all we've known
(The broken blade, the breaking stone)
We know that we were in the right
(The coming dawn, the ending night).
So here is where we stop the lies.
The time is come. We have to Rise.

—From Dandelion Mine, the blog of Magdalene Grace Garcia, August 7, 2041.

Bring me your plots, or send a message to tricia868 if you want to talk things out first!

Comments

[notawaterfall]

"So I hear your lot broke out to make your own site," Dorena typed and sent to Maggie Garcia's email. "And landed a spot on the campaign trail. Good for you."

So what if they hadn't spoken since that last party before she'd been disowned. Dorena was genuinely hoping for their success. Most of her memories of Maggie were a little hazy from the amount of drinking she used to do at those parties but the woman had seemed... kind. That had been more than enough to make Dorena flee for the hills in those days. Kindness was something her armor of cynicism wasn't proof against. And caring meant far too many things while she'd been living on her parents' dime.

[talesuntold]

The message surprised Maggie. Plenty of people had congratulated her on the new site, but few of them were relics of her rich girl party phase. And fewer still of those had seemed genuine. "Thank you. I won't be traveling with the candidate, but I'm happy with the team we've put together for After the End Times and look forward to working with them." Maggie had been the first that Buffy hired on, and they'd discussed some of the other hires before or after offering them contracts. She'd already reached out to the other Fictionals and started getting to know any she hadn't met before. They all had the standard (for Maggie) open invitation to her house.

Maggie remembered Dorena, and the drinking, though she didn't have room to judge on that front. She'd gotten in a lot of trouble before she settled down and found journalism. Of course she'd heard some of the gossip when Dorena was disowned. It was impossible to avoid, really. What Maggie didn't know was what the other woman had been up to since. "I couldn't leave my dogs for so long anyway. How are you, Dorena?"

[notawaterfall]

"I'm fine. In multiple senses of the word. The day is a lot longer when one doesn't spend all of it drinking, isn't it?" Dorena felt confronting their shared history head on was the best. "So many things to do with the time.

"I spend a larger portion of it with my clothes off than I thought I would as a child but it pays the bills." Dorena sent Maggie a link to a blog featuring Dorena giving her opinions on movies, music, commercials, and other serial visual media. If Maggie ever sat down to look at the archive, the entries increased dramatically in quality over the first couple of months. The first few entries were clearly just an invitation to stare at Dorena's (very nice) tits. Over time she warmed to the character she played and began to use more effects and costumes. The writing quality also went up though it was still Dorena giving her unvarnished and acerbic opinions.

"Not up to your site's standards I know." Dorena had noticed George's opinion of nude shows. She wasn't bitter, more rolling her eyes. "It leaves me time to pursue my hobbies."

Like doctorate level microbiology. But that was something she'd more or less successfully hidden from all but a few people.

[talesuntold]

It was a little while before Maggie answered, though she was listed as online. She had taken the time to watch one of Dorena's reviews before replying.

Maggie grinned at the free admission of past indiscretions. Another thing she rarely saw from certain circles. "It's true. I'm so much more productive these days." She had never been quite so far gone, at least when it came to drinking, as Dorena. Maggie liked drinking well enough, but she had other vices. She still indulged in one or two of them occasionally, though she'd settled down. "I've mostly given up getting into trouble."

Maggie pursed her lips for a moment when Dorena referenced her site's standards, then realized, "Ah, you read that editorial? Georgia's a bit judgmental when it comes to conveying the news. Those of us who write porn all day don't usually throw stones. You're lovely as well as witty. Why shouldn't you use that to your advantage?"

[notawaterfall]

After a couple days of living with Maggie, Dorena was getting used to having the dogs around. She settled onto the couch with her laptop and was unsurprised when she was surrounded by two or three bulldogs requesting skritches. Absently she gave them as she logged in and checked her email and news feeds.

She was still going through her routine when Maggie came in. "Good morning or whatever time of day it is." She smiled winningly.

[talesuntold]

"Don't you know that asking what time of day it is in this house is like swearing? Worse, come to think of it. Profanity is welcomed, whereas time is a four letter word." She grinned before grabbing a tablet off the table and settling down on the couch next to Dorena.

Then Maggie leaned over to offer a quick kiss on the cheek. "Have you eaten yet, or should I make us something once I check my email?"

[notawaterfall]

"I could eat," Dorena said, smiling. "I did my bloody recording for the damned morning already. Apparently I used up less of my profanity than I'd thought." She scooted a little closer to Maggie on the couch, not meaning breakfast right that second.

[talesuntold]

If Dorena is going to make staying on the couch so appealing, breakfast can certainly wait a little longer. Maggie never eats before getting online anyway; she has priorities. She balances her tablet on one knee and leans her head on Dorena's shoulder.

"Is profanity a limited resource? I wonder how one replenishes it, if so," she murmurs as she pulls up the site statistics for a quick glance before moving on to her inbox.

[nopath]

After Teleios, Duke gets sent back to Haven where he's taken and twisted around to a point that he can hardly recover. He feels those troubles- the aether flowing through him, begging to explode out of him at any time. It's- Duke has no idea how he's going to survive it all. Neither Audrey or Nathan know anything about Teleios so he assumes he's just- It was some Trouble that only he remembers because of the black tar flowing through his veins- through his body.

He assumes it wasn't real at all until- until one day a Rift opens up. It's a tear between universes, and it drops Maggie Garcia on Duke Crocker's dock as he's taking a drink of whiskey in the early morning.

Duke stares, dumbfounded.

"...Maggie?" He moves forward when he has the sense enough to react, kneeling beside her form. "You okay? ...you real?"

[talesuntold]

Maggie's been put through the wringer since she left Teleios too, and she hisses with pain as she hits the dock. Then her eyes snap open at the familiar voice.

"Same question to you," she says, voice shaking slightly. "And don't lie to me. I've had entirely too much morphine this week. I'd lay even odds on you being a hallucination, and I'll believe whatever you tell me anyway."

It's been less than a week since she was shot. Maggie is recovering. The bullet missed her lungs, and she didn't lose quite enough blood to amplify into a zombie, but it was a very near thing. Since then she's lost a friend and learned exactly what the massive conspiracy that cost her two people she was in love with was trying to hide. She pushes herself upright so she's at least sitting before she asks, "Hug me please, but be careful about it."

[nopath]

"Well, seems like now would be the best time to tell you I'm the most famous man in my world, and everyone loves me," Duke says with a little smirk.

He decides to answer the question with physical touch even if he's worried he might end up hurting her more. He winds his arms around her, pressing his fingertips into her back. His touch is gentle and careful, and he shakes his head, because he still can't wrap his head around the fact that-

She's here. She knows him. Teleios must have been real.

"What the hell happened to you?"

[talesuntold]

She huffs out a very small laugh. Even on morphine, there are limits to how far her belief will stretch.

Despite how gentle he is, a soft, pained sound escapes Maggie as Duke pulls her close. She latches on quickly enough that he doesn't have time to second guess the gesture because of it.

"I was shot by a CDC strike team because their bosses wanted to keep a secret," Maggie tells him bluntly, resting her head on his shoulder. "It's healing. I'll be fine."

Physically, at least. She's still shaken by losing Becks. By the knowledge of exactly what truth all those people were killed to hide. She's careful not to put much pressure on her chest, but Maggie clings to Duke as tightly as she can manage, her fingertips pressing harder than his.

"Are you alright?" The quick version of the answer might be best. Get Maggie back to bed and then talk to her about the details of what's gone on in Haven.

Pick a world. Any world. Hers. His. A random game world. I'm open for anything.

[crazystranger]

In the end, portals to other worlds are almost becoming second nature for the Rowdy 3. Sure Windermere was a thing, and a life, and it changed a lot for him and the others, but this is different.

For one there's no weird fairytale aspects that he realizes right away, most seeming to be fairly normal. Secondly, he's alone which is the most worrisome of all.

At first he thought it was merely separation, landing in different places which he imagines could happen easily with all of this time traveling, and worlds and whatever else magic this is. He thinks if Amanda had done this, she would be right there with him, so someone else had a hand in this. Perhaps literally.

After all, it was technically a hand through a portal that had plucked him and the others out of a concrete prison like tomb and dropped them into Windermere so surely it's the same.

Except he's still alone days later, and there's nothing to make him think the others are anywhere near. The last time, even when Vogel was apart, he could feel him. Now there's an emptiness in the center of his chest and he can't seem to get rid of it.

Add to that people in this place seem more vigilant, more wary, than he's used to in even war torn parts of the country and he starts getting curious about what the hell kind of messed up world he's landed in.

Which, given the first time he gives in and feeds from someone in a high emotional state, he realizes just how different things are. They aren't right. Not wrong, but definitely not right.

At length he finds a bat, one old and used that some kid left behind and he starts wailing on a car. Frustrated and hungry and doing it in a rhythm, almost as if he hopes the sound might resonate with someone and draw out those he's missing.

[talesuntold]

A van careens around the corner, driving faster than any van probably ought to, but then, the roads are anything but heavily trafficked. She slows. Considers. Rolls down her window a few inches so as to be audible, one foot poised above the gas ready to floor it.

"You might want to stop that, honey," she calls. "Erratic behavior is one of the early signs of amplification, and getting shot dead would be an unpleasant end to your day."

Of course, he could actually be amplifying. He could be either confused or angry as his life slowly draws to a close, legally dead already, in which case a bullet before he forgets who he is might be a mercy. There's a gun in her glove compartment. She hates the idea of using it anywhere but a firing range. Maggie doesn't see a bite wound, but that doesn't necessarily mean anything.

Her windows are shatterproof glass, she has one foot on the gas and one hand on the window button, and she'll take off and leave him in the dust if she has to.

[crazystranger]

Martin's head shoots up the moment he sees the van. His eyes light up, grinning widely, expecting the doors to open and to see three familiar faces hooping and hollering as they poured out.

Instead there's a woman warning him about getting shot.

Slowly he lowers the bat, taking a cigarette from behind his ear and putting it between his lips. Pulling out a lighter, he lit the cigarette, all the while watching her curiously. He makes no move to step closer, still kind of waiting for the doors to open. Taking a drag and exhaling slowly, he shakes his head.

"I'm erratic as a course of action. Just the man I am. So far my day is unpleasant, and being shot heals like most things."

Taking another drag, considering her.

"You haven't seen three fairly erratic men around here? Maybe with a pretty thing, about this tall," he says, gesturing with his hand. "Who they're likely looking to as their queen?"

Izzy got spirited away by a magic bus is all I got for explanation here...

[notwearingthekeds]

Izzy didn't look back. Had she looked back, she would have seen her house- no. Her mother's- no, that isn't right either. Elena's House in flames. A fire she didn't get to start.

But Izzy didn't look back, she headed to the bus station, and booked herself a ticket to New York City, to look for clues to find the only person to truly see her. See who she was, and not hate it. Not treat her like an outcast or monster. Moody tried, but it wasn't like he could get it. Still, she had a plan, she had the same information her mo- Elena had, she could hunt down the same information.

She was an artist, she knew Mia. She loved Mia. It should be easy.

...That was four months ago. Given how little of a plan she had, she did pretty well in New York City. It was trying to get Mia's trail after New York that she ran into a few problems. Well, for one, the money she had didn't stretch as far as she wanted. Izzy had planned to find Mia months ago, so she didn't really expect to need more than what she'd squirreled away. But that was the least of her problems.

The last bus she got on was a bit too convenient. But she needed to keep moving, and the driver said he was going the way to get her where she needed to be. And now she was in the woods, no idea what state she was in. But she picked a direction and trudged on. To find a farmhouse. Well, she was cute and she didn't have any other option but sleep in the woods. "Hello?"

Re: Izzy got spirited away by a magic bus is all I got for explanation here...

[talesuntold]

Maggie's house is currently at one of its lowest security levels, most of the gates around the house standing open. The last one is shut, though, and Maggie gets a warning from the security guards who are well-concealed in the woods. She heads outside herself rather than sending them to check it out, to their dismay.

"Hello," she calls as she steps onto the front stoop. "I'm Maggie. How in the world did you get here on foot? I'm miles from anyone."

She's curious. Maggie won't leave this kid alone in the woods, but she's also not letting her in without a clean blood test.

[notwearingthekeds]

"Um, a bus?" It didn't sound convincing. It was true, but it wasn't convincing. The woman being surprised at someone out here said that Izzy shouldn't be out here. Which means that something's gotten weird. Of course, a lot of things had gotten weird for Izzy.

That was why she ran away, after all.

"Maybe I could come in and use your-" Izzy initially was going to say 'phone.' But who could she call. Mia was who-knows-where, and she couldn't call home. She refused. But she didn't like the idea of staying out here.

Especially when a home is so... fortified. That's not really endearing, although the woman seems nice enough. Through a gate. That's locked.

For Seth

[talesuntold]

Maggie doesn't appreciate getting flung back into her room at the Agora, just after news of the conspiracy and Becks' death broke. Bad enough digging into those wounds all over again, but her gunshot wound is only a few days old now, and it hurts like hell.

She's finally convinced Mahir and her parents to go back to their own rooms and let her rest in peace when Seth appears, landing in her luxury hotel suite with no warning at all.

She just stares, breath caught in her throat for a long moment, before she manages to blurt out, "Seth! How—!? Please tell me you're not a morphine induced hallucination or a fever dream."

Which... is hopefully a hint that she's in enough pain he shouldn't fling himself at her, because she can't come up with a more coherent statement just yet.

[screwedontight]

It feels like a lifetime ago that he felt that lurching sensation, the way he was jerked away from his life and dropped into a place with mazes and checkerboard floors and a brilliant woman who he had fallen in love for.

Now he feels himself falling once more. A moment of his feet on the ground, realizing that he's lost that. He's lost Wonderland and Maggie and...

Then he hears her voice. That soft timbre and his name and... she's here. He's here.

Wherever here is.

"Where the fuck are we?"

Okay maybe that makes it clear it's really him.

"Why are you on morphine? What the fuck is going on?"

He steps in suddenly, moving to pull her close, his fingers closing around her wrists. Then he stops, canting his head slightly. "No, seriously. Why are you on morphine?"

[talesuntold]

"Welcome to my world." And she'll get to the morphine in a second, but the hotel security system interrupts. "Miss Garcia, we have registered an unauthorized guest in your room. Please respond."

Maggie rolls her eyes. "His name is Seth Gecko, I authorize him to be here and he'll be staying in my room, please update the security measures. Passcode: Every town has an Elm Street."

"Acknowledged. Have a wonderful day."

Her attention back on Seth, she continues, "Sorry, welcome to the Agora, the most exclusive hotel in North America. They take security seriously here. ...Anyway, remember when I showed up in Wonderland the second time, recovering from a gunshot wound? Well, that's when I was sent back to. God, I'm so glad to see you, I thought—"

For Raylan (roads not taken)

[talesuntold]

Maggie stands by what she says about being too squeamish for ribs. Two years on the Barge, plus Flotilla, but she still shies away from any meat that comes from a mammal.

But collard greens and peach cobbler she can manage, and she adds roast chicken and mashed potatoes. Maggie doesn't do anything without thinking through her angles. This isn't an impulsive question, and Raylan deserves something special if she's going to ask it. Whatever his response.

She focuses on cooking rather than the low thrum of nerves, and she'll be there to greet him with open arms as soon as he's through the door. "Hey, darling."

[tinstar]

Raylan never minded when dinner didn't have red meat, understanding her issue with it completely, and was always just happy to eat her food. It warmed him just as much as it filled his stomach, gave him a peace that he didn't get often without pancakes and Willa across from him. So when he got her invitation, there was no hesitation in accepting her very kind offer.

He didn't get a lot of meals with company sometimes and he really did enjoy it.

"Hey yourself," he says warmly as he steps into her hug, wrapping his arms around her and pressing a kiss into her hair, not eager to let her go. Her hugs were just as magical as her smiles. She'd already reassured him that everything was alright, so he trusted that, and stayed light.

"It smells amazin' in here."

[talesuntold]

Raylan is always such an appreciative audience.

Maggie laughs, muffled against him. "You're worth spoiling. We should eat before it gets cold," although she doesn't let go quite yet. Instead, she pulls him down for a kiss. She can never quite resist that, given the opportunity. She spent so long worrying about her virus, building careful walls to keep her people safe. Kisses are special.

After Raylan leaves the Barge

[talesuntold]

[The first package Maggie sends Raylan after he leaves contains a handful of polished stones in rich blues and greens, a delicately carved wooden goose in flight with its wings outstretched, a packet of tea, half a dozen gold-dusted chocolate truffles, a little gold key without any corresponding lock... and a video file, which will explain the seemingly random assortment.]

This month's flood is absolute fairy tale nonsense. Saying nice things summons up nice things, and vice versa. Like those stories where jewels and pearls or snakes and bugs would pop into existence. Since I'm not feeling particularly spiteful, I'm having a great time.

It's also been good for some over-the-top romance, and I didn't think you should miss out just because you're not here. I know we don't really do poetry together in this life, but I was thinking of Mason and his Mags. So I figured I'd try this and see what turns up. For old time's sake. And for future.

[She'll give him a crooked smile before she raises a book and reads the same poem Mags read Mason that first night she took him home, right before they kissed: Wild Geese, by Mary Oliver. Every once in awhile she has to reach out and catch something as she speaks.]

I'm good at carving out exactly the sort of place I want for myself, but I could be happy in lots of places. You're the place I'm choosing. I can't wait to see what that looks like, darling.