And let me find no true abode

Did anyone know what was happening up top? Maybe Rey would get a message. Hopefully news from Alara that progress had been made was going around!

Otherwise, well. TGIF didn't mean a lot when you were stuck in a hole without much by way of a sense of time.

[open!]

The hole was still a hole. The divot in the ceiling was still not one yet. The impact on the Devil's Nest's liquor stock could maybe charitably be called a hole, though.

Happy Wednesday folks! It's hump day! That, like Wednesdays, days in general, and perhaps even time itself was essentially meaningless down here.

[open!]

Guess what, y'all! There's a bar here now! Why, the hole was practically swimming in coping mechanisms things to do!

. . . Was it still day drinking if there was no external marker of time passing other than people and things falling through the ceiling?

[open!]

So it was Saturday again. The end of Travis's second week down here. He was trying not to think about how long it had been.

The fire ladder was now handwavily positioned under Rey's progress on the roof of the hole, giving people easy access to the slowly growing divot if people wanted to work on it. (Was it a divot on the ceiling?)

There was a lovely mural started on one wall, and plenty of instruments if people wanted to start a band. There was a circle of cannons that could apparently be climbed on if you wanted to get shot across the room. (Why would you want that, Beaker? Why?) There was a very well organized stack of men's and women's fashion, only slightly out of date! There was a bowling alley. There were fire trucks. Warehouses and an ice cream store that was rapidly starting to smell. There was a campfire, which was proving to be a rather useful meditation spot, if you had Force powers! And there were even a few spaceships, which might or might not have useful things in them. And a blacksmith shop full of weapons, which people should probably not let Travis near while he was still annoyed at the pirates.

Was anyone else hearing a couple of birds singing?

Happy Thursday, hole-y people! Were you going insane yet? Some of you had the good fortune of having a loved one down here with you, so maybe not!

Travis probably was. But, like, in a quiet way now where he was almost used to never seeing the sun again.

This was the perfect time to learn to play guitar, right?

[open!]

The second Tuesday in the hole saw the campfire big and bright. There were loads of marshmallows to toast, chocolate and graham crackers for those who wanted to full-on make s'mores (despite, you know, the lack of adequate bathing facilities down here), and even some hot dogs for those who wanted to eat something other than massive amounts of sugar after the quest to finish off all the ice cream at Chilly Boulder before it melted.

Now they just needed some crappy beer and an asshole with a guitar playing "Wonderwall" and it'd be a proper high school style rager. Or, you know, they could all just mope and/or brainstorm around the fire for a bit.

[open!]

So. It was, if Travis's admittedly rough calculations were correct, now Sunday. Which meant he'd officially been down here for a week.

The little community was still growing. They now had a fire station, a mansion, and a bowling alley at which to occupy their time. There was plenty of food -- and now some very shitty beer, too, which Travis appreciated -- as well as three generators, a fair amount of potable water, a small emergency water heater and pump, and a lot of spare fire uniforms if people started to feel a bit too stinky.

There was still no apparent way out yet, though.

[open!]

They'd handwavily gotten the ladder truck on its wheels, but even with the ladder extended, they'd only been able to confirm that the ceiling was solid.

There'd be no getting out that way.

Which meant Travis was officially out of ideas. So people were just going to have to bear with him while he treated himself to another sad lump day over in the toppled station.

[some ocd coming]

Travis would actually be a bit disappointed to miss the shenanigans this week, if he'd had any idea by this point what day it was up on the surface. Down in the cavern, it was as uniformly dark and dank and cool as it had been since he and Probie had fallen in.

Well. At least he didn't have to deal with the heat wave?

He'd given up on the ladder truck. And climbing the walls. And amping up his radio's signal to try to reach anyone up on the surface and let them know where he was. He was sprawled out against the side of the overturned desk, staring moodily at the little emergency lantern he was using for light, and generally being nearly as big a sad useless lump as he'd been after his husband had died four years ago.

He'd get back to being useful in awhile. Sometimes you just had to have a Sad Lump Day.

[Open if/when anyone else falls in a hole!]

Right, so. Travis was in a cave. He'd already exhausted options like trying to call or radio anyone using his weirdly intact phone and radio equipment, and after a few failed attempts to scale the walls of the giant cavern with gear meant for rappelling, had set about making an inventory of his other supplies and calculating how long he and Probie could potentially last while he worked out how to escape.

The good news was, the whole station was down here with him, so he had plenty of food and containers of potable water on hand. The place had its own generator and emergency water tank for sanitation purposes, though it would take him a bit of effort to get it all hooked up after the tumble it had taken. Nothing was broken, but it was all jumbled together, and a lot of it was on its side or upside down.

He was currently looking at his tiny little ladder truck, and wondering if he could figure out a way to lever it onto its wheels by himself. Any little bit of height would help get him closer to the ceiling of this damn place, right?

[no OCD today because he's alone so far. Open if/when anyone else falls in today!]