August 2024 Test Drive Meme

[singmod]

AUGUST 2024 TDM

PROMPT ONE — ARRIVAL: METHUSELAH'S FEAST: Yet another new group of arrivals find themselves lost in the frozen wilds and vulnerable to the dangers of nature. With luck, they make it to the town of Milton, and to a friendly face offering food, warmth and shelter — not to mention the fact they are not the first to come here.

PROMPT TWO — TEA TIME: A mysterious stranger offers Interlopers some tea by her fire, with... unexpected results.

PROMPT THREE — YOU LYING NEXT TO ME: Thawing and quake activity in the Northern Territories make for a deadly mix, particularly with bodies of water.

ARRIVAL: METHUSELAH'S FEAST

WHEN: Mid-month.
WHERE: Milton, Milton Outskirts.
CONTENT WARNINGS: potential animal attacks, potential injuries, potential cold injuries/hyperthermia risk.

'You are the Interloper. You are not part of nature’s design.'

It’s the last thing you hear. A dark, deep voice. Impossibly ancient. You feel afraid. Maybe you’re dreaming, maybe you’re wide awake. You saw the lights, and then your world went dark. But you hear it in the blackness, you won’t forget those words. You will later learn that these are the words of The Darkwalker, a malevolent being that exists in this world. It knows of your presence here, and you will be far worse off for it.

You awaken. You are not where you were before. It’s different for everyone, there doesn’t seem to be much of a pattern in where you find yourself. You may open your eyes to find yourself in a cold, dim and dank cabin. The air is stale, dust hangs in the rays of weak sunlight that shine through the tiny windows. Someone lived here once, but they aren’t to be found. You look around, it seems like no one has been here in several weeks, maybe longer. The fire is stone cold, the dishes in the sink are mouldy — it's possible the place has been ransacked, as if they've gone through the drawers and cupboards looking for something. It is quiet. The wood creaks around you. Or perhaps you may awaken to find yourself shivering in the yawning maw of a cave, the freezing stone below you. Or maybe you’re unfortunate enough to sit up to find yourself lying in the snow, in the middle of the wilderness. Snow lies thick around you. It’s freezing out. You haven’t felt a cold like this before in your entire life. Cruel and biting. You have no idea where you are, and what’s worse — you are completely alone.

You may feel different, too. Any powers or magics you may have feel... absent. Disconnected. Things that may not have affected you previously now do. Something in you has changed.

You know you can’t stay where you are. You’ll need to move, try to work out where you are and how you came to be here. So you walk, head out into the unknown, in hope of finding a trail or a road. Interlopers who arrive in the month of August will find that there is often disturbances and damage to the earth and roads — often similar to that found following quake activity. Care should be taken in finding your way.

Soon enough, you'll be able to find a path to town. A little more worse for wear, but alive. It’s here you may find someone else in the same boat as yourself, equally freezing and confused — battered from the journey. You’ll both need to keep going. It won’t be easy. You hear howls of wolves around you, and the terrain is difficult: slips and falls are likely. You’re completely vulnerable out here in the open.

Or it’s possible you may come across someone else here. Someone who looks far better prepared to deal with the freezing cold and frozen landscape, out hunting or gathering. They’ll likely offer help and get you into town. However, for the unlucky ones who don’t come across anyone, you’ll carry on until you smell it through the fog: the scent of smoke that seems to cling in the still air. Fire. Not just one, but several perhaps. Civilization...?

Follow it, and soon enough the way you’ve taken will certainly become a path or road. Unfolding before you in the foggy mountainous forests, you’ll see the most welcome of sights, even if it may appear a little eerie in the half-light gloom: a small mining town tucked up in the valley. Battered, rusted road signs will direct to “MILTON, POP. 947”. You’re almost there, you keep going, and it looks like other people have had the same idea as you. In fact, you’ll hear the muffled sounds of life. People! In the town!

As you head into the outskirts and then further into town, you’ll find it’s a little easier to walk but the cold has gripped you hard. You’ll find the buildings, both shops and homes, some are dark and lifeless, some of them are boarded up, some of them are occupied. People are going about their business, or stood watching from their tiny porches of their small, timber homes. For a town this big, there doesn’t seem to be many people. Several dozen at most, but no more. Some of them will direct you to the Community Hall, tell you to head there — you've been expected.

Towards the center of town, you’ll find the building where many people seem to gather: a community hall, by the looks of it. You’ll find more and more people all drawn to this place, each and every one of them in the same position as yourself (and your companion, if you’ve found one). Some are in worse states than others: some are bloodied, nursing bite wounds or cuts; others might have some other kind of injury sustained in the journey here from falls. Everyone looks as though they could faint from the cold at any second, damp and shivering.

The door opens, and you’re greeted by the gnarled, wizened face of an elderly man, dressed in thick furs. He has a kind face, but looks sad. He smiles warmly despite the sadness in him, and with pity, ushering you in with haste.

“As I suspected, another batch of poor souls from the wilds.” he nods gravely. No, this is not the first time that this has happened. “I am Methuselah. I welcome you Newcomer, although I’m sorry for how you’ve come to find yourself here. The lights are changing things, bringing more of you here. Come, we must get you warm and fed. Mother Nature has not been kind.”

The room is dim, lit only by natural daylight through the windows. A roaring fire sits at one end of the huge hall. It crackles, bright and cheerful... and warm. Even as big as this place is, the room is pleasantly warm. You’ll also find basic cots set up down one side of the hall, and while it seems there's a few people already living here, there's enough space for those in need of them. There's places to rest for a moment and get your bearings, or just trying to recover from the cold.

Down the other side are tables and chairs, and long tables offering food, and drinks similar to one might find at a soup kitchen. Once again, Methuselah offers a feast, aided by some of the other Interlopers. Newcomers will hear from others of Feasts held before, but the offering this month are… somewhat meagre. Newcomers will hear from others of Feasts held before, but the offering this month are… somewhat meagre. There are canisters with hot herbal teas and perhaps a rare canister of coffee. Soup and stew are on offer, but little in the way of charred/grilled meats. What little game Interlopers already here have caught has been used wisely to stretch it further. There is grilled fish, however. That is the most plentiful, it seems. It’s very basic, but it’s hot and filling. A feast.

The old man has been busy. And Methuselah will continue to busy himself, still; there is plenty to do. He will fetch blankets, tend to wounds, serve food and drinks. He does not have much time to talk. More and more people seem to be coming in from the cold. He will not stop to sit and rest until everyone is seen to, taking up a place by the fire to gaze silently into its flames. He is very troubled, thoughtful. Much has been happening. The others from town will eventually trail in too, to eat and warm themselves, and search among the new faces.

He will encourage newcomers to get warm and eat, and when they are ready to — they can explore the town and find one of the many empty homes to call their own. He will not speak much. Methuselah seems exhausted. Life within the Northern Territories has been very difficult for all who dwell here. But perhaps you might be able to get some answers from those fellow arrivals who’ve been in this place for some time now.

TEA TIME

WHEN: Mid-month — end of the month.
WHERE: Milton area; Lakeside area.
CONTENT WARNINGS: altered/magical drinks; loss of inhibitions; physical age changes; body horror/animal attributes; memory sharing; possible fourth-wall breaking; future visions;



It is incredibly rare to come across others in the Northern Territories, but certainly not unheard of. Even if the town of Milton had lost what seems to be its entire population before the arrival of Interlopers, there are still others native to this place out in the world. Young Bill and Methuselah are proof of that, as are the Forest Talkers — who have a tense relationship with the Interlopers, to put it lightly. It wouldn’t be a stretch to think that there could be more.

The old woman appears to be one of them, wrapped in many layers of synthetic clothing and furs. You may come across her as she wanders through the world, or perhaps find her huddled around a campfire in the depths of the wilderness. If one were to hazard a guess, they’d assume she were some kind of nomad like Methuselah.

She’s friendly sort; that’s the first impression you make of her. It’s safe to conclude she isn’t with the Forest Talkers. She regards arrivals with wide eyes, beckoning Interlopers to come join her by the fire. Softly spoken, with a mumbling quiet voice. It might seem like she’s not all there, and seems harmless enough. Perhaps a little lonely. Who isn’t in this place? She is mostly curious about the Interlopers themselves and will be interested in hearing about them, asking them questions about their worlds and lives. She’s a very keen and attentive listener.

As conversation grows, she will boil some snow for water upon her fire. With all this talk, what better way than to add some tea to it? The weather is getting colder, too. Something hot will stave off the chill. Out of her rucksack, she will pull out a carved wooden box. It is something quite precious to her, and within it are several small metal tins. She will show it to the Interlopers, and inside there will be different blends of herbal tea. She will ask which of the teas you would like to drink.

The choice is yours, Interlopers. But drinking one of these teas will have… unexpected results.

BURDOCK TEA: An earthy and bittersweet tea, with a slightly nutty flavour. Drinking this tea will pull away any inhibitions and mental filters and make you more susceptible to speaking your mind and being more honest with those around you. Maybe you want to tell someone how much they suck, or maybe you want to confess your feelings to someone. Maybe you just really want to air out your grievances about your life or current situation. And they say alcohol will loosen tongues.

HERBAL TEA: This miscellaneous ‘herbal’ smells pretty fragrant, but you can’t quite tell what’s all in its blend. This tea will show you a random moment from your future. This might be something immediate within the Northern Territories, or it may be a moment of your future within your own world. The vision itself will only last for a few moments, and then fade into black.

ROSEHIP TEA: A sweet and floral tea with a tangy aftertaste. This tea will show you a moment of your past, replaying it out before you as if you are watching it like one watches a movie. It may be a happier time, a fond memory of sorts. Or perhaps it will be your worst memory ever: a failing, a wrong decision, a difficult or upsetting time in your life. What’s more, is that anyone drinking this very same tea with you will also experience this moment with you.

REISHI TEA: A bitter tea with a woody flavour. This tea will change your appearance physically in some way. It may be something small like changing your eye or hair colour. It may go even more extreme and temporarily give you some kind of animal features: ears, scaly skin or a tail.

BIRCH BARK TEA: A pleasant wintergreen drink that tastes faintly like rootbeer. Drinking this tea will change your physical age. You may revert to a younger version of yourself, or become an older version of yourself.

Once drinking the tea, you will find yourself alone. The fire is almost embers beside you. You will find that you will never come across the old woman again, no matter how hard you try to find her.

YOU LYING NEXT TO ME

WHEN: The month of August.
WHERE: Everywhere. And specifically: Milton Basin, ponds around Milton Outskirts; Lakeside Lake, misc. Water sources.
CONTENT WARNINGS: potential injuries, potential cold injuries/hyperthermia risk; potential partial nudity.

There has been an instability in the earth as of late. Interlopers have been made aware of the fact that the Northern Territories have been victim to quakes in the past. But lately, there has been new seismic activity, which has not helped matters. In Lakeside, it is certainly more obvious to see: sections of the railway track that run through the area have buckled, roads are damaged and undrivable and the bridge that leads out towards the coast has crumbled away.

But the damage extends beyond the roads and railway tracks, something which Interlopers will, unfortunately, discover as they go out travelling or exploring the world.

It is hard to tell which part of the ground will give way, it often happens without warning. Interlopers will simply be out walking and the ground will suddenly collapse from beneath them into small pits and ravines. They’re easy enough to climb out of for the most part, but Interlopers are in danger of sprains and even broken bones if they don’t land right. But they may end up being completely submerged in the snow, leaving them not too worse for wear but very cold. They’ll certainly need to be dug out, and hopefully, they’re not left for too long, either. Hopefully some kind-hearted stranger may find them.


The most dangerous of all are the frozen lakes, ponds and streams. It feels like the Northern Territories have been a place of endless winter. The snow has never left, and the thick ice of almost all water sources remains. While certain smaller bodies of water have thawed enough for Interlopers to fish, most have remained in a permanent state of frozen solidity. Interlopers have been free to walk across the ice untroubled. But the quakes have… endangered the solidity of what seemed to be unmeltable ice.

What was once a rare safe bet will become no more. Unsuspecting Interlopers travelling or exploring these ‘frozen’ waters may find themselves in for a nasty surprise. Without warning, the ice will creak and groan beneath their feet — the sound echoing, a strange kind of sharp snap. Then, with a groan, the ice will give way: plummeting whichever poor soul stands upon it down into the frigid waters below.

Such cold water is dangerous no matter the depth, but some will be much luckier than others. Some of the smaller ponds within the Northern Territories will only reach waist or chest height, but the much deeper bodies of water like the Basin and Lakeside Lake will prove far deadlier. Getting victims out of the waters is half the battle, trying to do so risks yourself. Many may find themselves falling in with their companions — and although a way out can be achieved, the harder part is warmth.

Getting the poor souls who fall victim to falling into the water or trapped in the snow indoors and close to a fire is a good start. Building a fire takes time, though. It could be a while before a roaring fire is going. So alternate plans might need to be put into action. Let’s hope there are some dry blankets nearby, and it’d be a good idea to get out of any soaked clothes before they freeze on a person.

They do say that sharing body heat is also a good way of heating up a person who’s suffering from the cold. Hypothermia is deadly, after all. Skin-on-skin contact works best, wrapped up in blankets. Who has time for getting awkward about it? Getting cosy might just save someone’s life.

FAQs

ARRIVAL: METHUSELAH'S FEAST

1. Arrival threads can be treated as game canon.

2. Items characters have brought from home can be found either strewn around them when they awaken, or in the community hall — as if someone left them out for them to collect. Methuselah will not know how they got there, and will be quite bemused by the happenings.

3. Reminder that all characters are now depowered upon arrival. They can choose not to notice it at first, or can immediately sense something is different about them.

4. If asked any personal questions, Methuselah will smile and say "Oh, you don't want to know about an old man like me. But I have lived all over in these parts for all my life." He will be more concerned with trying to help Newcomers, and is genuinely concerned for them and their well-being. Other Interlopers will say much of the same — there's little to know about him.

5. More information about Milton can be found here.

TEA TIME

1. The effects of the Burdock, Reishi and Birch Bark teas will last for 24 hours.

2. Physical changes to characters (ie. getting animal ears) will be purely aesthetic.

YOU LYING NEXT TO ME

1. For those down in the Basin, there is a small hut/shack with a fireplace that Interlopers can use for refuge to warm up. Shelter in other places isn't too far off. Best get warmed up quickly!

2. Interlopers already in-game with the Cold Fusion Feat won't be susceptible to cold damage/hypothermia if they fall into the waters but will also not be able to warm up their fellow Interlopers who end up taking an icy plunge.

3. Interlopers already in-game with the Lightbringer or Moon Touched Feats will be hugely beneficial/vital in warming up their fellow Interlopers who fall into the waters.

TALES FROM THE NORTHERN TERRITORIES NEWSLETTER

Comments

Arthur Lester | Malevolent (Podcast) - S5 Spoilers!

[lestercraft]

Arrival/Methuselah's Feast

[CW Panic attack]

Arthur wakes with a scream that echoes violently in the cave he's lying in, as he scrambles to sit up and clutch his stomach, the ghosts of fresh, raw pain still coating the underside of his skin. But when his hands find the flesh, through the bloodsoaked, gaping holes in his shirt - there's stitches, still, methodical and clean, but fully healed.

And then he realises he's actually seeing it. That he's using both hands, that there's a dull ache in his pinky from the wood still embedded there.

His mind is silent. And he can fucking see.

"John-?" But the icy air catches in his throat, as terror explodes in him like lightning and suddenly he can't breathe, can't think past the sheer panic, John is gone John is fucking gone does that mean he actually fucking died or did John get taken what the fuck is Kayne up to now, how is he supposed to do any of this without him, where the fuck is John--?!

It takes... longer than he'd like. To calm down. Because at one point just as it's starting to settle, his left hand twitches and sets him off again when there's a fleeting hope that John just can't talk, but - no, it's all him again. Alone.

Fuck.

But. He has to pick himself up eventually. And he takes a minute to take stock. He hasn't got much on him: his three-piece suit is in fucking shambles, soaked with blood around his cuffs, his vest is torn open and it and the shirt beneath are fucking shredded around his stomach by the repeat stabbings, his entire front soaked with blood (and though he can't see it, the back as well, centred around the much slighter tear from being run through with the fucking rapier). His leather shoes are covered in mud and crushed maggots. There's not a speck left on him that's fucking clean.

But he's not going to find anything useful in a fucking cave. Or at least the odds are significantly stacked against him. He needs to find shelter, other people. And the only thing for that is to set off, and hope for the best.

When he does make it into town, eventually, he's both surprised and concerned that he's not the only person here in a fucking state, though at least his own blood, apparently, is all inside him, no open wounds. And as much as he wants to take a moment to actually look around, get himself grounded and go exploring - he wants to get cleaned up first. Get himself grounded.

Food (and thank God for that), clothes. His eyes flick over a table as he passes by, taking in the items apparently left out arbitrarily, but then he does a double take - and pats his own pockets down with flustered intent, before he snatches up an inscribed Dunhill lighter, and then doubles down on trying to investigate anything else left there, in case it's his. "What the fuck?"

You lying next to me

The amazing thing about falling in holes, pits, off cliffs, down rotted stairs, as often as Arthur has...

"Fuck!"

...is that it never prepares you for next time.

At least Arthur's voice carries. He's at least cautious enough not to risk going out on the ice if he can help it, but he's less wary of the roads, and so he's found himself trapped at the bottom of another hole - not even that deep, except for the way the snow fell on top of him, and he's struggling a bit to find his footing again. "A little help?!"

Lying

[lieutenantsteward]

Thomas' head pokes over the edge of the hole. Fortunately, he'd been out on his patrols, checking on his traps, and was nearby when he felt it and heard the cry.

"Are you alright, sir?" he calls down, worried for a moment that he may have been injured. He glances behind him, wondering if he should risk getting Goodsir, someone medical, someone.

"Can you hold a rope?"

Re: Lying

[lestercraft]

"I-I'm fine, I'm just- fucking freezing!" The English voice is new! And also moderately irate, as he tries to push himself up and just squelches further into the loose snow. "A rope would be fantastic, please."

Re: Lying

[lieutenantsteward]

He clocks it, though he can't place from where. London, perhaps, though not Thomas' part of town.

Thomas takes off his greatcoat of the British goddamn Discovery Service and drops it down to him. It's more for decoration on Thomas anyway.

But he doesn't think about that as he retreats, though he is deliberate to continue speaking loudly enough so he doesn't feel abandoned.

"You chose a terrible time to visit," he calls out, knowing full well that's not how it works. "We've had these odd quakes and - strange happenings."

He returns to the hole and drops a thin rope down.

arrival;

[obscurissime]

"If I had a dollar for every time someone asked that around here, I'd have a lot of money and nowhere to spend it."

Scratch is nearby, sipping one some of the coveted coffee that's been supplied for this gathering. The man caught his attention if only because of his appearance, which is rough, to say the least.

"Unfortunately, we're all broke here and everyone is disgustingly helpful."

this bitch!!

[lestercraft]

Arthur's happy with a bowl of stew, to be quite frank. Easy on his tender stomach and warm enough to keep the threat of chills at bay.

And the man immediately gets a flat look over his bowl; honestly, with how bedraggled Arthur still looks, it's less 'cold and calculated demeanor' and more 'feral dog that's going to bite if you steal his bone'.

"In times and places like these, all we can do is help each other," he says flatly, scrubbing his mouth with the side of his gloved hand. "It hardly does to disparage that."

yeah!!

[obscurissime]

His nose scrunches a bit. Where are these people coming from? No one is really as nice as everyone here is.

"Of course. But it's always friendly until it isn't."

Hell, a quarter of them just went on their own little murder rampage and not a single person here was held responsible for it. Scratch isn't buying the kumbaya schtick for a second.

"We've been lucky so far."

feast

[friendsfordinner]

Look, all Hickey's saying is that if people don't know that they arrive here with a few items on hand, then they're not going to know what they miss. So yes, it might be stealing if he pockets something useful or two. But is it truly stealing if you're stealing from someone who doesn't even know they're being robbed to begin with?

(Yes. Yes it is.)

Hickey's eyeing that lighter, something that he only knows the context of due to his recent year at least a hundred years in the future in this frozen hellscape. It could be useful. He could use it. He takes a quick glance around to see if anybody else has spotted it before some sad looking English prick snatches up the lighter. He was going to steal that! Rude.

Hickey looks over the sad looking English prick once more and notices that he's a sad and bloody English prick. Raising an eyebrow, he points out, "I hope none of that's yours. We've only got two or three doctors since that Russian died."

Re: feast

[lestercraft]

"It was." The other Englishman only gets a sparing glance from Arthur, but those brown eyes are sharp now, eyeing off the other man for just a second with violent intent.

(Nothing personal, Hickey. He just doesn't trust easy right now.)

And attention back to the table. "Luckily, whoever brought me here saw fit to make sure the correct amount was put back inside me. Otherwise I'd be in far worse straits."

His glance flicks across the table again, and for a moment he's distracted by the thought, How the fuck am I supposed to even recognise anything else of mine? -and then he spots a hilt, half buried under some abandoned jacket, and he is whip-sharp in snatching it up to get a better look at it.

A slick, black blade - he's not sure if it's metal or stone, but its edges are sharp, still coated with a thin limn of dried blood, and when he shifts it to rest properly in his hand - fuck, but he can feel how well it sits in his fingers. This is his.

Re: feast

[friendsfordinner]

"Otherwise you'd be passed out on the floor," Hickey points out. He knows how much blood a person's got. The carnage wrought by that bear, that god showed him that much. This guy is covered in a worrying amount of blood.

But Hickey stays and watches, looking at Lester as he looks through the various items on the table. After all, he's not an idiot. He's not going to steal anything from someone who arrived here covered in a large amount of blood.

But he is nosy. So as Lester picks up the blade, Hickey can't help but point out,

"You're looking at that thing like you've never seen it before."

you lying next to me

[he_shall_walk]

The 'little help' comes not long after in the form of a rope end dropped down disturbingly close to him; she isn't trying to be a little shit. These things are hardly exact, given all the branches and snow and the care one must take with the edge of such a hole.

"To your right. From here, it looks that the most stable wall to climb against would be in that direction. I will brace you."

A woman's voice with what he would probably identify as an English accent (it is not).

Re: you lying next to me

[lestercraft]

He snatches up the rope as soon as it lands, before it can risk slipping away.

"Yes, it- that looks correct from here, too." An accent she would probably identify as Eorzean (it is not), and he gives the rope a light tug to show he's got it. "Brace yourself-"

Because he doesn't know how strong she might be, or how small compared to him, but he has to start climbing eventually.

Re: you lying next to me

[he_shall_walk]

She is not her proper size; if she were, she might even be able to simply reach down and pull him out. But while she has no unnatural strength, is as strong only as a sundered soul, the size of the sundered, she has ever been a warrior and a traveler.

She has found a proper stump to loop the rope around even as she holds the end and bends to offer her hand to him once he gets high enough.

"I am ready."

lying next to me

[thedreamer]

Not one to ever remain idle or stationary for very long, the Doctor is often out exploring around Lakeside. Particularly right now before the weather turns quite grim again, it's a good time to continue foraging and gathering an abundance of supplies in preparation for the harder days to come, the days they all know are looming in the back of their minds.

On this particular day, as he's out for a walk gathering a variety of berries, his attention is, of course, caught by the sound of someone calling for help. As he nears, he's quick to call out in return, even before his face can be seen.

"You're in luck, mate, I happen to have stashed a lot of help in my pockets today." As he peers over the edge, there's a smile to accompany the words. Perhaps it's not the time for jokes, but someone caught in a hole might not entirely dislike being put at ease, if possible?

"Not to worry, just a moment," he's quick to assure him as he reaches into one of his coat pockets for a long, sturdy belt, lowering it down. It's not as good as a rope, but hopefully will do in a pinch, as the Doctor anchors himself firmly on the edge of the hole.

Re: lying next to me

[lestercraft]

Arthur's fallen in enough holes that he's not particularly bothered by it, just a bit pressed (metaphorically and literally), so the joke doesn't hurt, but he does make a face about it.

When he gets the belt dangled for him - well, at least it's something, and he grabs it with both hands, half-wrapped it around one wrist to brace it.

"Got it-!" And he starts to pull, hoping to whatever god is listening that the stranger's properly anchored - Arthur's light, but still.

And lo and behold, it only takes a little bit of scrambling to get an elbow back over the edge, and to get hauled back up to solid ground again.

Re: lying next to me

[thedreamer]

The Doctor is only slightly breathless from the exertion, far more concerned for the man who's just resurfaced from what could have been quite a more treacherous situation. He's alive and conscious, that's always good news to start.

He lets go of his end of the belt only once the man is back on surface level, and despite the circumstances, the Doctor smiles softly, while looking him over.

"Officially, welcome back to the surface, we're glad to have you on solid ground again, do mind your step," he offers first with a slightly cheeky grin. "You okay?"

You lying next to me.

[littlestderolo]

Cassandra’s arrival to this world had been filled with… panic, mostly. At least initially, in those first moments immediately after waking. She’d been panicked, terrified, searching for Delilah, Sylas as she’d tried to stem the bleeding from where he’d fed on her most recently. But they weren’t there. At least, not that she could see. Was this another game they’re playing with her? Another way to make her suffer?

Now, though, there were other things that became far more important. Survival. (Not that that hadn’t been the most important thing in her life for the past year. Just not this… flavour.) It’s cold, and snowy, and she’s not dressed for the weather. Her pale blue dress (where it’s not growing ever more stained wither blood) might have long sleeves but it’s not thick enough to keep her warm.

Pelor, she hates the cold.

Curling in on herself, she makes her way through the snow in the hopes that she can find somewhere, or someone. Perhaps they’ll be able to tell her where she is. What’s going on. She doesn’t know how long she’s been walking when she hears it. The sound of a voice. In trouble, from the sound of it.

And she’s running then, hitching the skirt of her dress up to her knees to try and keep it from slowing her down. Until she reaches where she thinks the voice was coming from. Asking for help. She finds her way to the edge of the hole, dropping to her knees and leaning over, a slip of a girl looking a little younger than her thirteen years, white-streaked dark curls falling wild over her shoulders. “Of course,” she answers his request for help immediately, in a voice laced with what sounds like a rather proper English accent. If England existed in Exandria. “Are you all right, aside from having fallen down a hole?”

She’s ignoring her own injuries, of course. They were simply a part of life under the Briarwood’s control. She’s had worse. Her focus is on figuring out how best to aid his escape. That’s far more important. She needs to make sure he’s not hurt, first, though. She doesn’t want to hurt him more in trying to get him out.

OH NO SHES *BABY*

[lestercraft]

Oh his head jerks up fast at the obvious youth in her voice, and when he lays eyes on her - there's a flicker of emotion across his scarred face.

Grief, maybe.

And frankly he looks in no better straits than Cassandra: his own face is a mess, old friction burns across one temple and half an ear missing, facial hair an uneven mess, and with the way he's leaning back and tilting his head up to meet her eyes, the neat slice of scar tissue across his throat is visible, over an outfit that's more blood than suit.

"I-I'm-- I'm alright, yes." His own accent is less formal than hers, ruined by too much time spent overseas, but still distinctly English. "Is there- d-do you have a rope, or- o-o-or is there someone with you who could help?"

[littlestderolo]

The sight of him, old injuries and covered in blood, makes worry and memory well up in Cassandra in equal measure. She’s terrified for him. The memories of watching her family die, watching them be murdered at the hands of the very people who they’d welcomed as guests. As bloody as he is now.

She has to help him. She can’t… she won’t just leave him here. “It’s just me, I’m afraid.” But I’ll get you out. I promise.” It’s spoken fervently, a promise spoken, and a promise meant from the depth of her soul. She won’t leave him. “I don’t have a rope. But…” She pauses, thinking furiously. “Let me try something.” She withdraws, then, and he’ll be able to hear the sound of fabric tearing, as she begins tearing long strips off of the skirt of her dress. It just has to work long enough to get him up. Get him out. She doesn’t stop until it’s above her knees, and she quickly and deftly braids them into as much of a rope as she can manage. It’s long enough that it should work. Just barely.

Then she’s scrambling back for the edge of the hole. Ignoring the cold of the snow against her now-bare knees. Her boots help keep the rest of her lower legs a little less cold. A little less snow-covered, at least. “Here.”

arrival;

[questioningmermaids]

"Shit."

Holland March had absolutely been eyeing that. Does he have his own zippo? Absolutely. But that's a neat lighter, man, it's inscribed and everything. If he's going to go crazy since they're all doomed to die in Canada of all places, he might as well start collecting lighters. The disappointed curse is completely forgotten as just how terrible the other guy actually looks registers.

"What the hell happened to you?"

There's sympathy there. Somewhere. Mostly, though, it's curiousity. He figures the guy's well enough to wander in here without dying then some of that blood isn't his. March, lanky and in his favourite jacket, takes a drag off of one of his precious cigarettes.

Re: arrival;

[lestercraft]

It's the brazen curiosity that nets the flat look from Arthur, before he flicks his lighter open to make sure it's still functional, and snaps it shut again.

"You've heard the saying 'curiosity killed the cat', I'm sure." He tucks it into his jacket pocket, some small measure of pride to his posture even despite the fact he's literally covered in blood. "It didn't quite manage to get me, but not for lack of trying."

Feast;

[sukeltaja]

Zane's warm now, which is a blessing. Warm enough the jacket he's pilfered to make it to the community hall feels too constricting, so somewhere between meandering from the fireplace to the table with all of the knick knacks he's shrugged it off entirely, right back to his slightly bloodied poet's shirt that's unopened.

It's the super 8 video camera that catches his eye. He's behind a terribly skinny man when he sees it, and cants his head to the side before his usual wide, nearly manic grin spreads across on his face.

"Hello, beautiful," he says, hands brushing against Arthur as he reaches by him to grab it. It's his. Definitely his--there's a small scuff mark by the grip and the tiniest dent by the battery pack. He'd recognize it anywhere. When Zane holds it close to examine it he treats it like a long lost relative, hands running soothingly over plastic and metal, sigh filled with palpable relief.

He looks up, index and thumb moving along the camera's body, and when he raises it to his face to peer through it, he uses Arthur as his subject to frame, grin widening.

"And hello, beautiful."

Re: Feast;

[lestercraft]

Arthur's relationship with the physical vessel that he inhabits is strictly professional: in that he feels no emotions or particularly even cares about it, in the long term. But inhabit it he must, and so when the lanky bastard's hand brushes his - he's surprised, more than anything, by touch he should have seen coming, and his hand recoils sharply with its prize - the engraved lighter.

Then the man points his... thing, at Arthur, and the comment makes him frown sharply - defensively, if Tom's paying attention.

"I-- I-I'm sorry, what?"

the feast

[notarat]

There's a part of Billy that definitely wants to ignore the guy covered in blood and shredded clothes. The sight of that sums up pretty much everything he does not want to deal with, and when he watches the man enter the hall, he kind of figures he might make a scene, judging by his state.

... but then again, there's also something vaguely familiar about the scene that bends that thought a little. After all, even though it was months upon months ago, Billy was also wandering this very hall in a very similar state, even if he did not realize just how blood-soaked the back of his shirt had been until someone pointed it out.

It's the familiarity that wins out somewhere deep down, and Billy momentarily abandons his task of grabbing food - whatever, there's going to be enough, at least today - to see what is up with the man and that surprised expression on Arthur's face.

".. Is something wrong?" He asks.

You know, aside from the clothes. He doesn't mean the clothes or what must have happened before the other woke up here, since Arthur's expression seems so much more aimed at the thing he's holding than at anything more general.

Re: the feast

[lestercraft]

Arthur looks up in surprise, at being addressed, and- honestly, the feeling of actually looking and meeting someone else in the eye again is still so painfully novel that he ends up staring for a few seconds.

Which certainly doesn't help the 'dazed and confused newbie' vibe.

And then he remembers himself, and looks away too quickly, back to the lighter.

"No, no it's just- I don't know how this got here before me, I-I-I woke up in a cave, a few miles away, how...?"

Woke up might be generous, mind you, but he knows what blood loss feels like and this isn't it.