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

QUESTIONS

[singmod]

Ask them here!

Jane Margolis | Breaking Bad (cw: references to drug abuse)

[copacetic]

ARRIVAL. METHUSELAH'S FEAST.
The air around Jane is dry and cold, and the land is barren. It's not the place for anyone, let alone someone who is about to start going heroin withdrawals soon. It reminds her of the bleakest description she might find in a novel, or maybe a painting. Jane isn't dressed for this, and she shivers violently. Even the black overcoat she's wearing isn't really enough for this letter. The sun is shining, but the blue sky feels like it's mocking her.

The money isn't fucking here. Neither is Jesse.

She picks her way across a damaged, partially uprooted asphalt road. The pieces of the road jut out every which way, a sign of the recent quake damage. Jane isn't sure what to expect when a figure comes to view... and heads straight for her.

If her would-be rescuer was expecting gratitude, though, they might be in for a rude awakening. Jane is immediately tense. "Hey!" she calls out. "Who are you?"

TEA TIME.
Maybe they're an oldbie who came to help newcomers find their way back to camp; maybe they're another newcomer Jane just happened to run into. Whoever they are, and however they got to Milton, Jane is now sitting with the older woman, someone else beside her. Jane cradles a cup of tea in her hands, not sure if she should drink from it. She's never trusted friendly people. Well, not most of them. They're usually up to something. But she is enjoying the feeling of the warm cup in her hands. She glances at her companion, trying to see if they're going to drink from the cup, before turning back to the woman, and bequeathing the friendly old woman a half-fake smile.

LYING NEXT TO YOU
When you wake up, you're inside, wrapped in several blankets, in a shed somewhere. A girl in her mid-20s, with dark hair and brown eyes, is across the room, staring at you severely. She doesn't speak right away. She just looks you up and down, and plays with her hair a little, before she speaks.

"You fell in the water," she informs you, in a flat but somehow still very snotty tone like you've just severely inconvenienced her personally. She doesn't say the word 'dumbass', but it's definitely implied.

"You got your own clothes off. I didn't watch." As if she would've wanted to.

((ooc: For Tea Time, open to any possible effects! Will match prose or brackets. ))

[salamanca]

If they asked very nicely, would interlopers be able to keep a few bags of any of the herbal teas with them for later use? :)

[singmod]

Unfortunately not. It's her secret stash! It's very special to her.

[solitarysoul]

how extreme can the physical changes from the reishi tea be? would they still be basically humanoid similar size or could they become a mouse or a giant or something

jamie hughes 🔪 totally killer

[pinkmists]

a — arrival

cw mention of recreational drugs (weed / gummy)

What the actual fuck?

[ Peeling herself off of the ground — an ungraceful heap of petite teenage girl with hair dried to her cheek via an unpleasant trail of saliva — Jamie blinks glossily, trying to re-orient herself. The last thing she remembers is sitting with Lauren and trying to re-orient herself there after the joys of so much time travel fuckery. Did she take a gummy? She doesn't remember taking a gummy, but she probably needed one.

She definitely needs one now.

Jamie brushes that sticky hair from her face and peers around her surroundings. Some kind of little... cabin. Rustic. A quick poke-around tells her that it's definitely Serial Killer Chic (she has expert experience on such matters now; could she put that on a job resume?), and she's immediately looking around for anything she can find that could be used for self-defense. Fuck, fuck, fuck. Did she somehow go back in time again? What if she's too far back? What if the killer's not dead?

She manages to locate a knife in the kitchen and holds it tightly in one hand, the other slowly easing the front door open with a disconcertingly loud, resonating creak that echoes through the stillness of the nearby wood. The girl's mouth draws back in a grimace; well, that probably just alerted every nearby potential psychopath to the fact she's on the move.

What she sees outside is a shock, and she's ogling it for a long moment. An expanse of white as far as the eye can see, and no signs of civilisation — she is absolutely not in California anymore. ]

b — methuselah's feast

[ By the time Jamie makes it to the Community Center, she's freezing, freaked out, exhausted, and grouchy. She's in the same clothing she was just before here: a pair of blue jeans, sneakers, a pink tee, and a thin grey cardigan. Hardly enough to stand up to this shit. But when she spots an item of clothing draped over a table — almost like it was waiting for her — she manages to find a burst of energy and rushes over to it, eyes wide, heart pounding.

It's the fringed leather jacket straight out of the 80's, the one belonging to her mother. Jamie blinks back a wave of involuntary wet heat and grips the thing tightly to her chest, head whipping around as she looks for the person it belongs to. Is Mom.... here? Jamie thought she set things right, but maybe she didn't really, maybe some part of it's still fucked up. It has to be, right?

Jamie slides into the jacket (at this point, it's starting to feel like her superhero uniform) and starts walking around the place with her arms crossed tightly, shuddering as she looks out for any sign of her young, devastatingly pretty mother — expecting to find her in teenage version again. The thing is, though, that she's not spotting much in the way of young people. Maybe there's a couple scattered around, but the majority of people seem to be older than high school age. God, where the fuck... (and when the fuck) is she?

Her initial approach is awkward as she kind of sidles up to passerby who don't look like they could be a killer-in-waiting, eyes shifty, voice kept low. ]

Excuse me. Uh, this might sound weird, but could you tell me what year it is?

[ Here we goddamn go again. ]

c — exploring milton

[ By now, Jamie's learned some important facts. She's not in California. She's not in the year 2023 or 1987. Cool cool cool.

She's in Canada.

Which— okay, there's some irony there, considering she recently pretended to be an exchange student from Canada so she could infiltrate a high school from 35 years in the past. She's still reeling from all of that, and now here she is: genuinely smackdab in the land of maple syrup and hockey itself. Neither of those things seem readily available here, though, way out in the middle of Bumfuck, Nowhere.

Cool cool cool!

Clearly something went wrong and she's been transported through time again. Or maybe she's taken over an alternate-universe Jamie's life, one who decided to make her Canadian lie a truth and move out here. She needs to find some kind of clue, so she spends a lot of time just wandering around Milton, peeking into places and trying not to panic. All the while she can't help thinking that The Sweet Sixteen Killer might have followed her in again (seems to be the trend), so she keeps that knife she'd found on her person. Whether it'd be the OG killer, the future (and different) version, or yet another version whose identity she doesn't know, she's cautious as she explores various areas in the town.

She might be seen at the general store where she wanders the aisles and their sparse goods in search of a snack. At one point, she glances over her shoulder to make sure the coast is clear, makes a face, and slips a can of old dusty beans into her jacket front. Girl's gotta eat, even if she doesn't have any money...

Later, when it starts getting dark out, Jamie's looking for a place to stay for the night. God, this place really is rustic... No electricity. It's so quiet. She debates heading back to that Community Center place, she saw they had beds for people there, but if the killer really is here, she could put other people in danger. And she's seen enough bloodshed for more than one lifetime. No, best to stay alone.

Eventually, she approaches a small cabin that looks pretty deserted, which is assuredly a recipe for disaster. Fuck, she might as well hang a sign over the door that says "Calling All Horror Movie Bad Guys — One Teen Girl Spends The Night Alone Here". She's not completely defenseless; she has her knife, and she has years worth of self-defense training thanks to Mom's Traumas, but it's a pretty intimidating prospect. Maybe she can boobytrap a few things, Kevin McCallister style.

First things first, though, she needs to get some heat going. So Jamie can be found outside the cabin, looking for.... wood. Like logs. That's what you use to heat old fireplaces with, right? Fuck if she knows much more about what to do beyond that, and there's no google here for assistance.

It looks like people have at least chopped some up and kind of set them out around houses, so that's good. Cautiously, Jamie approaches a stack of logs outside another cabin and starts lugging one or two up into her arms. Hopefully this isn't like, someone's stash or anything. Free for all to use? She has no idea, but she's barely over five feet tall and grunting with effort as she heaves a log up against her shoulder — only to lose her grasp on the one she was holding underneath it, and they fumble from her arms and onto the ground with a clatter. Jamie hisses and crouches down to start retrieving the things — muttering to herself under her breath. ]

What I wouldn't give for a Holiday Inn.....

d — tea time

cw slasher horror peril (being chased & attacked by a masked figure), though this canon is a horror-comedy so everything's kind of layered in some goofiness

[ Drinking weird shit from strangers is decidedly a bad idea, but Jamie's too tired and desperate to care. She really, really hopes there's something good in this stuff — and at first thinks it is a pleasant high that's finding her, when her vision seems to go a little foggy, like something's kind of manifesting in front of her eyes.

But then the rosehip effect comes in full force, playing out like a movie right in front of her eyes (as well as the eyes of anyone else around), and it's clear that this is something more. Her eyes widen and she's holding in a tense breath as she watches herself and realises what exactly it is — the first time she'd encountered The Sweet Sixteen Killer.

The "hallucination" ends with the knife being plunged into the control panel of the photo booth (slash time machine) and everything going weird, before it's then going black. It's over, and Jamie's panting for breath, staring saucer-wide straight ahead. She's usually pretty good at keeping it together, but seeing it play out like that... being reminded of him, in that creepy fucking mask and the sheer relentlessness of it all as he'd come for her, is a lot. She's shuddering, the cup held in her hands with a death-grip.

Totally not worth it just for the possibility of getting high. Never again. But hey, maybe one of your worst memories will play out too and we can be even! Or maybe it's something good. Whatever it is, Jamie's stuck with you for the ride.

It's no big surprise that later on, she's trying to help spare others from the dark fate of witnessing a terrible memory play out (or whatever else might happen to people who drink from that lady's stash). Jamie hasn't been able to find her again, it's like she just disappeared afterwards, but that doesn't stop her from looking. She wanders the line of the woods, careful, looking out for any sign of another dying campfire. When she finally comes across one, she's hurrying over, peering widely at you. ]

Hey! Was there just an old lady here? Offering to give people tea? Which, okay, fair — really stupid of me to accept.

[ Beat. She doesn't know about the other effects, so if you're sporting some kind of weird animals ears or have aged up or down or something, it's going to take some processing. ]

Please don't tell me you drank something. Those teas were drugged up.

jyn erso | star wars

[vallt]

arrival/methuselah's feast.

[a long time ago, jyn had realized the pointlessness of dwelling on things that she can't change. she can be angry about them, sure — and she is, now, deeply angry that it's fucking cold, that something had finally been within her reach in what she'd thought to be the last seconds of her life, only to slip through her fingers — but lingering won't do her any good; it's cold, likely to only get colder if she's still out in the open when night falls, and her immediate priorities are obvious: moving, finding some kind of shelter.

so she focuses on both, trudging through the snow with single-minded purpose — even if she occasionally grumbles as she does.

eventually, she finds her way into a settlement, to the community hall at the center of it. she can barely grasp onto whatever the man who'd opened the door is trying to tell her, because her attention is immediately drawn to the food. it's not an expansive spread, but it doesn't matter; jyn has so often done with less. starving, she shovels in whatever she can grab, until —

her eyes catch on the glint of a crystal in the light. a kyber crystal.

forcefully, she sends whatever is in her hands back to the table as she reaches to snatch the crystal from whoever had dared to pick it up, snarling,]

That's mine.


lying next to you.

[when the ice had cracked, when she'd seen someone be pulled into the water below, jyn hadn't hesitated; she'd slid toward the person as fast as she'd been able, and had used what strength she could muster to pull them out to safety. she'd nearly been taken down with them in the process — and, in the aftermath, sports cuts and bruises of her own that are souvenirs of the struggle.

she'll deal with those later.

for now, she frowns at the fire she'd started, which is slow to do any good for two people who are still violently shivering. she huffs an irritated breath, looking from her new companion, to the fire, and back again. then —

she pulls her shirt over her head, shifting closer with a raised brow.]

Take yours off.

[it's not a suggestion, and she's not leaving room for argument.]


wildcard.

[have another scenario in mind? feel free to drop one here or hit me up at lensflares to discuss!]

[singmod]

Characters would remain humanoid and the same size. It would only be animal features they'd get, no full animal transformations.

Alan Wake | Remedy Connected Universe

[lightschampion]

[ARRIVAL: METHUSELAH'S FEAST]

[He hadn't been able to keep his head above water anymore. He was drowning, lost in the black inkiness that was the Dark Presence and Scratch. Faint glimpses through the rippled surface: a bloodied leather jacket, cold steel in his hands. Bullets piercing through the water, slowed enough not to be fatal upon contact, but it didn't stop the pain.

Then light, an overwhelming light making him feel as if he was burning from the inside out. A voice, different from the one he'd already been hearing.

Alan awakens above the surface, but it's no less cold. His breath puffs in front of him as he tries to reorient himself and figure out where he is. A cabin, but not the one he's familiar with. He briefly panics when he reaches down and doesn't feel the flashlight and gun that were all but part of him by now. Thankfully, they're scattered at the other end of the cabin, but it's only so much a comfort when he realizes that something is very, very wrong. Aside from the usual "very, very wrong", at least.

It's good that he's finally in a cabin room with a properly working door, but outside feels nearly as hostile as the Dark Place. If it isn't the Dark Place itself, which would be the only rational explanation to this... But he hadn't had such a radical shift in its "setting" for a long time. What could have caused it? Either way, he needs to find a safe place, somewhere with light and preferably warmth so that he can properly get his bearings. The overwhelming pressure in his head before he'd been dragged under is gone, but there's still a familiar tinge that keeps him on edge.

There are no Taken, no Fadeouts to halt his way, just the snow and the cold. Alan eventually finds himself at a town. Civilization is something new in his travels in the Dark Place; aside from the creatures trying to kill him, he'd only encountered the occasional person. Never a populated town. It makes him wonder if this is the Dark Place after all, but as his teeth chatter, he realizes he needs to warm up before he starts to theorize and plan further.

The old man that greets him at what looks to be a community hall doesn't appear dangerous, and Alan knows he'll have to try asking more questions later, but right now all he can do is nod and mumble a thanks as he's led inside.

Before long, Alan's seated with a mug of tea and a bowl of soup. It may be meager, but considering the lack of sustenance he'd had in the Dark Place, it's practically a feast. God, how he'd missed eating properly, a taste on his tongue that wasn't muted. But he still looks completely lost as he absently sips at the tea, needing answers, or at the least a friendly face to talk to.]



[TEA TIME]

[Alan still isn't fully convinced that this isn't some new part of the Dark Place, but by now, he can't do much but situate himself and focus on how to survive before he finds a way out. Unlike the Dark Place he's used to, he isn't sending a projection of himself into danger. This is himself, simply him.

He'll take small comforts where he can to keep his mind settled. While he'd always preferred coffee over tea, the latter is more common here, so he'll take what he can get. When an old woman comes to town, she may not have the answers he's seeking, but she does have tea. Not knowing or frankly caring the difference between the flavors, he picks at random and eventually brings the hot beverage to his lips.]

This...isn't too bad, actually.


(ooc: Any effect is good, just lmk which and I'll roll with it!)



[YOU LYING NEXT TO ME]

[Alice had teased him before they'd first left to Cauldron Lake about the amount of layers he'd worn. Surely, even in the fall in the Pacific Northwest, four layers was a bit too much, wasn't it? What he wouldn't give now for those four layers, though. Though he'd managed to secure a jacket, having only a suit jacket and dress shirt underneath it didn't keep him as warm as he would have hoped while walking outdoors.

Now that he'd secured a bit of a foothold and some kind of shelter, it was time to explore the mysterious world he'd found himself in. There wasn't much to do but pick a direction and walk, though, but he tried to keep to the roads. Maybe he'd find some kind of clue, some kind of familiar face. Some echo or manuscript page. But sitting on his ass wasn't going to get him out of here.

He reaches a portion of the road he's walking on that's damaged enough to be uncrossable, though it seems easy enough to just quickly detour around it in the snow. That is, until he feels the ground give way underneath him. Alan yelps as he falls downwards.

The good part? The pit isn't that deep. He doesn't go completely under, his head still sticking out. The bad part? The rest of him is submerged and unable to move, no matter how he tries to shift and squirm and move his limbs.

Fuck. Fuckfuckfuck. He knows he can't get out of here alone.]

Is anyone out there?! I need-- I need help!

[Not something he likes to ask for, but he's not letting his ego and his issues let him freeze to death.]

Exploring Milton

[salamanca]

[ Turns out it is someone's stash.

A small little white circle of light comes into view. Lalo uses the flashlight only sparingly; he knows eventually its batteries are going to run out. When he shines it on the trespasser, though, he's glad he brought it. It's a young girl. That immediately makes Lalo keep his distance, making sure there's a wide berth between them.

He does call out, though. ]

Careful. No sudden movements.

[ Lalo doesn't have a weapon with him. But she's not the only one who's had the idea to booby trap the place. Not only is this Lalo's stash, but proximity to his cabin means there are traps everywhere. He knows where to navigate to avoid them, but he also knows she doesn't. ]

You Lying Next To Me

[salamanca]

[ Lalo appears, looking down from above at the man trapped in the hole. He's up to his neck in water, Lalo notes. He also notes that the man almost looks a bit familiar? Must just be one of those faces!

Lalo whistles disapprovingly at the predicament Alan has found himself in. ]

Whoa! You look like you need some help.

[ So far, he looks down, just taking the scene in, with no real motion to give any assistance. It's a good thing Lalo is still playing at being a good samaritan, though. It means Alan won't have to wait too long. ]

lying next to you

[copacetic]

[ Jane barely remembers anything that happened. Just the suddenness of being plunged into impossibly cold water, and then being yanked out again. Jane feels like the cold is inside her now, like it's found its way into her damn bones. She shivers violently, and her head hurts. She feels like she's going to throw up...

A stern voice talking to her cuts through her headache, if nothing else. ]

What? [ But Jane groggily does as she's instructed, slowly peeling the wet clothes off. Her voice sounds suspicious for someone who just got rescued, though. ] Who are you?

[pinkmists]

[ The sudden halo of light startles her, and Jamie looks right up into it, quickly — blinking as she lifts an arm to shield her eyes from the glow.

Something in her gut immediately tenses, unpleasant and breath-stealing tight. A man's voice calls out to her, and any man could be him. Slowly, she drops the logs she'd been in the process of picking up again and reaches around to her back jean pocket, keeping one hand on the knife tucked in there.

'No sudden movements' he warns her, and she has no idea it's because he's got the nearby area rigged. Well, regardless, she's not about to risk doing anything but what he says. At least not at first.

So Jamie slowly, slowly, moves to stand again. She keeps that hand at her back pocket, jaw tightening. It's a risk to tell him that she's carrying something, but she also thinks maybe it could stop him from rushing her. ]

I have a knife, and I am not afraid to use it, buddy.

Venat | FFXIV

[he_shall_walk]

methusalah's feast

The voice she hears holds such darkness. She cannot help that it makes her shudder, separate from the chill that that slides through her robes. 'Interloper'. It is a title she has held so long it feels almost like a warm blanket around her shoulders. Even as her boots crunch through the snow and dark woods, her first thought is not 'where am I'? 'How did I get here?' 'Who was that?'

It is 'There is no way back'.

The words spur her onward. 'Interloper', that darkness calls her. Outside of 'nature's design'. She has seen the consequences of such designs. Indeed, she spent herself in defiance against it. Here, now, she will do the same: even as she hungers. Even as she shivers. Even as she feels weak and her lungs burn and her legs ache. The weakness is her due. The weakness makes sense. She had given her all to her warrior, to her champions.

Wherever she is now, whatever stands before her, she will keep walking. She will go until she finds others, find a way no matter what obstacles stand in front of her, ever moving towards the unknown.

When the settlement comes into view, she has probably fared better than most. While she had started in a frigid cave, she spent many many years as a traveler. The road is her friend, especially the unfamiliar ones, and she has borne the pain of existence for longer than most. Her white robes may be tattered from pulling branches and muddy from grimy snow, but her smudged and scratched face is calm and her steps are steady, if slow.

If you need help, she will move to try and help you. If you seem to know where you're going, she may approach simply to make conversation.

tea time

She has watched many old women over the years and this one seems no different from most; in some ways, the shadow of Matoya herself seems to hang over this woodswoman's features as she brews the tea for them. It's not a plant she's familiar with, which is no wonder in truth, and her adventurer's spirit delights in the idea of a new experience, even for as long as she has existed. She smiles as she's handed the tea and she sips it almost before it's cool enough not to burn.

It is warm enough to fill her insides happily, at least, and the sensation is pleasant enough that Venat doesn't even realize what's happened until she feels the faint sway of the tail wagging behind her.

"...oh my."

She might giggle. She very well might. This is delightful. You can tell by how the golden dog tail keeps going and the little golden ears that have replaced her own on the top of her head perk up through the white curls.

you lying next to me

It is she who fell in the water.

Unsurprising, really, given that she is still adjusting to the idea that she cannot float as she likes.

There is no real nervousness as she starts to remove her robes and her clothes, as she squeezes the water from her hair as fast as her freezing fingers can manage. She knows the dangers of the cold, the impact it can make on living creatures, how deadly the lack of warmth may be.

If she isn't the first one to suggest curling up for warmth, she will agree almost immediately nonetheless. She has never much had use for shame or the conventions of others in the face of practical need. She won't start now.

lt. george hodgson | the terror | voicetesting!

[manges]

⚓ ARRIVAL
cw: spoilers for The Terror; refs to character death

[ The beast's footsteps drawing nearer on the shale, his own panicked breath and the rush of his heart in his ears as he fumbles with the infernal keys on his shackles. He barely hears the words over his own desperation: You should be still. Stop moving! And then everything is hot and sharp and loud and black, the beast's mouth closes in around him and he does not feel the earth beneath him anymore.

The quiet hush he opens his eyes to is blinding, and he finds himself on his back in soft snow — the slow rock tree boughs in the breeze, like some sweet lullaby. He dare not breathe. But finally he does, a long shuddering breath. He feels as if he awoke from a dream, and he lies for some time — close to weeping.

It is too cold to remain here, and he slowly sits up to look about him. A quiet wood. A word comes to mind: winterstille, winter silence.

He cannot remain here. And so George Hodgson slowly, painfully pulls himself to his feet — his body aching as he turns about him, tries to find a direction to head. His feet carry him, stumbling through the snow. What is this place—? His eyes wide, watering. Vegetation, and the soft smell of smoke lingering high above.

Stumbling, he finds himself a pathway and begins to follow along it. How can this be? They wandered the shade on no such paths or trails. But soon enough, there is movement. His heart skips in panic. The beast? Or something else? He dives for cover behind a tree, a cry half-caught in his throat. He is unarmed. No means to defend himself, at the mercy of such a stranger in this... strange place.

His voice wavers as he calls out: ]

Please, I beg of you—! I am unarmed—! I mean no harm—!

⚓ THE FEAST
cw: themes of starvation/issues with food/eating; religious themes

[ This place is strange, the people within it stranger. A low buzz of noise within these walls. Bodies moving to and fro, and he moves amongst them like a ghost — lost in some haze. His manners almost forget him, and he nods stiffly as he moves to one side to let another past like an afterthought.

The air is warm and the scent of food seems to cling to him, but it turns sour in his stomach and it can only lurch painfully in reply. He finds himself drifting towards the tables regardless, as if his feet carry him without his mind's say-so. There is food. Stews and soup and grilled fish.

He stands, staring at it as other move around him to gather their fill. His eyes grow glossy with tears, and he blinks them back. His mouth waters. He is hungry, and frightened and shamed. He cannot move himself to eat. Perhaps this is Hell, he thinks. Punishment for what he has done, for every wretched thing he has done. As if he could never be clean. As if nothing in this world could cleanse him. ]

⚓ YOU LYING NEXT TO ME
cw: n/a

[ He is rested. Fed. It turns in his stomach uncomfortably, and he cannot dwell on it too much. He wanders in search of— he does not know, truly. He is lost. Perhaps already dead. He does not know this place, but it cannot be Heaven.

His travels take him along the the outskirts of Milton, along the frozen ponds that are here and there. Thick reeds smatter along the edges of them. It feels strange to be amongst the green, to be amongst anything that is nothing but ice and shale.

And there are others here. Hale. Not starving and sick like he and the other men. He does not find their gazes but keeps moving, until the crack of ice echoes and gives way with a unceremonious splash. He stops, spinning round to look back, and he knows he cannot do nothing. He has done... so little. He cannot let this time be much of the same. He rushes forwards, careful as his feet reach the end of the pond. He crouches down, low to distribute his weight better, crawling upon the ice to the person's aid. ]

Your hand—! [ He scrambles for a hand, trying to find a good grip. ] Be calm—! Here, I have you—!

⚓ WILDCARD
canon point: episode ten: we are gone, the showdown with tuunbaq/point of canon death. contact heolstor for plotting!

Ignacio "Nacho" Varga | Better Call Saul

[mijo]

i. arrival; feast

The cold that awakens Nacho is so fierce that at first he mistakes it for pain, sharp and overwhelming, before his head clears. It's not pain, but pain he knows. This is... unfamiliar. Closest he's ever come to this temperature was an industrial freezer, and that hadn't sunk into his bones like this. He pushes himself up from the cold stone beneath him and breathes into cupped hands to warm them, looking around to get his bearings.

It takes him a minute to figure out which direction to go in, to follow the road towards civilization while baffled how he wound up here. Maybe he died and hell burns cold rather than hot? That was in some old book, right? This certainly isn't how he would have chosen to see snow for the first time in his life, though, and when he makes it into town the warmth of the hall and the blanket draped around him is a relief.

Nacho clutches the heavy fabric in place over his shoulders with numb fingers and staggers towards the fire -- it feels as though he has no heat of his own to keep in at this point. While everyone else mingles and samples the feast he sits by the flames, people-watching and eavesdropping with an unreadably calm expression. Others might think he's in shock, but inside he's calculating. The first step to getting out of any situation is gathering intel. Slow and steady, and he'll survive. Like always.

ii. tea time

Acclimating to such an extreme temperature proves to be difficult, at least for Nacho. He was born and raised in the desert; it could get cold at night, but that cold felt nothing like this one. Damp and cruel, seemingly impossible to shake with only his own heat. Despite the more appropriate clothes he's been given, he frequently stops at fires to warm back up... this one is being tended to and although the quiet sort, Nacho is never rude. He'll answer the woman's questions, voice low and polite, responses brief.

Home is sun and cracked earth, air and people alike baked to dust by the heat of the sun. He doesn't much like snow, it turns out. Work was on cars and sewing machines, and he doesn't comment that there seems to be no call for either skill here. The sentiment lingers unspoken; he has no place here.

When offered tea Nacho tries to decline (he's more of a coffee guy) but the woman insists, pushing the box towards him. Only then does he turn to address the others seated at the fire. "You know any of these?"

iii. lying next to you

That ominous groan doesn't register for what it is when Nacho first hears it because he never has before, but it does parse as wrong in a way that has him going perfectly still -- like a deer that hears a twig crack and stops to figure out where it came from. What's happening. Which way it should bolt... once the ice actually gives way his head snaps in that direction and he catches sight of someone falling through. But Nacho isn't a deer. Instead of bolting away he runs towards where the figure just was, calling out for the help of anyone around who might hear him.

"Hey! Hey, somebody's in the water!" When no one responds Nacho curses under his breath, skidding in the snow as he approaches the new hole in the ice. Is the victim above the surface again?

the feast;

[obscurissime]

[ New interlopers means a new feast. There hasn't really been anyone new in town since Scratch showed up, and, well, he has nothing better to do than go see who's ended up in this shithole.

The bonus of food is a good one, too, but he doesn't need to seek out the warmth of it all anymore. Unbothered by the frigid temperatures, he's glad to ditch the thick plaid coat he'd been using to fight the chill. It totally cramped his style. Now he can wander through Milton wearing a lighter coat, still not quite on his level of acceptable but easier to stomach. And, really, if he's going to be meeting new people he'd rather do it not looking like a lumberjack.

Instead of new people, he sees a familiar face. It's looking a bit more weary since the last time Scratch saw it, worn down and hairier (not that Scratch can talk, at best here he can maintain a short enough hair cut and a trimmed beard), but it's unmistakably his face.

Well. Alan's face.

An instant rage hits him, the desire to storm over to Alan and shove that spoon down his throat until he chokes on it, and he sucks in a deep breath through his nose to compose himself.

Alan is here. He can get Alan to rewrite whatever the fuck he wrote that landed Scratch and some essence of the Dark Presence here in the first place.

Instead of aggressively murdering Alan in his chair, Scratch sits himself across from him. ]

Talk about a fun reunion, am I right?

[lightschampion]

[The good thing is that he isn't alone out here. It wasn't exactly a busy thoroughfare, and he hadn't seen many people since leaving town, so there was a definite worry no one would find him and he'd freeze to death.

The bad thing is that the person who's found him seems to be more curious than helpful right now.]

No, I just trapped myself in the snow for fun-- Yes, I need help.

[lightschampion]

[Confused and worried as he is to this new situation and unsure of how to adjust, the warmth of food and drink still go a long way to keep him in at least decent spirits. He's enjoying another spoonful of the soup when he suddenly hears an all too familiar voice.

His voice, but not.

The spoon clatters into the bowl as he looks up, hands immediately moving down to hover over his flashlight and gun. Alan doesn't want to start blasting away in a room filled with uninvolved townspeople (and some as new and confused as he is), but he's anything but relaxed as he comes face to face with the last person he wanted to see. While the appearance seems...younger, reminding him of their time in much warmer places, it's still unmistakably him.

He can't sense the Dark Presence within him the way he last was able to before this, too.]

The fuck are you doing here? Hitched another ride?

benjamin "hawkeye" pierce | M*A*S*H

[antimilitary]

( i. arrival )

[ so. this is depressing.

hawkeye hums under his breath, as he peruses the cabin. tosses the dishes around, letting them hit the tables with a satisfying crack. pulls apart any drawers, squinting at the state of them. ]

You know, the army could take tips from a place like this. Giving inhospitable a whole new look. Trademarked.

[ he tosses another plate against the wall. lets it crack. it's oddly satisfying, in a petty sense. finally, he pulls up a chair, stretching his long legs and looking you over. ]

So, this place is terrible. What's the plan, champ?

( ii. methuselah's feast )

[ he tuned out most of what was said. hawkeye will ask around later when he feels more alive. right now, he's going to stock his plate up with meats and fish, piling them high and shake his cup. if you approach him, he's going to hold his hand up. ]

Coffee first, details later. Coffee faster and we can find ourselves a table and be best friends forever.

( iii. you lying next to me )

[ hawkeye switches on.

he pulls his coat off himself as they bring the poor souls from out of the water. his voice is curt as he barks out commands, not interested in hearing in anything else but prompt action on other people's parts. ]

I need a knife to cut free the clothing, a fire, some warm compresses and blankets! Quickly!

[ rubbing his hands to keep warm, hawkeye starts tearing the clothes off and dragging the body onto his once warm coat and wrapping them in it as much as possible. ]

b.

[mark735]

[ He sure isn't in Shoyo anymore.

He'd scraped and shivered his way to the center of the little town, every nerve alert, shooting hunted glances back over his shoulder every step of the way. After all: if wolves come after him, or ice cracks under his feet, or rocks begin to slide down onto his head, he won't be able to hear them.

And now he's here, wet and cold and miserable and surrounded by more people than he's seen in weeks. The baking heat of the summer is gone, but so too is the wreckage left behind by Captain Trips: he thought he glimpsed a dead body in the woods, but it was pale and cold and stiff, not bloated and blackened. Would the virus even be able to survive in this place, as sterile and empty as it is?

He'd had his answer when he got into town, stumbling into the hall. The air in here is thick with fear and warm with bodies, but he's still shivering anyway; shock, he thinks. That'll kill ya, sure as a bullet might, but he's got no idea what to do about it aside from try to get warm.

He doesn't notice the girl at first, his attention on warming his hands, on the food laid out across the nearby tables. He hasn't seen so much bounty since Janey Baker cooked a Midwestern feast for him; he feels his stomach rumble without hearing it. But a flash of something pale catches his eye and he turns just in time to see a pair of pink lips finishing a sentence: —year it is?

Nick blinks at her, then pats his empty pockets in vain, searching for a pen and a pad of paper. Finally, he simply shakes his head at her, then lifts both hands in an shrug. He caps off this pantomime by holding up his fingers in a series of numbers: 1, 9, 9 and a closed fist for 0 before shrugging again and raising his eyebrows in an exaggerated impression of uncertainty.

It had been 1990. Who knows what it might be now? ]

ii. methuselah's feast

[pacificator]

Wow, forever? Really?

[ It's rare that she shows up to the feasts, but she still hasn't gained the weight back from before June and its bleak, constant hunger. Right now, she's full for the first time in what feels like weeks, her stomach a small, bare, rounded bump beneath the t-shirt she's got tied up at her ribcage. It's not warm out, but it's warmer, and she'll take what small amounts of sun she can get. It's past time to free the midriff.

Wynonna leans past him to get a cup of coffee of her own, then lifts her eyebrows over it at him in a blandly assessing glance. ]

But will you braid my hair when we have a sleepover?

[antimilitary]

And ever.

[ he gives a brief appreciative look over before flashing a smarmy grin. ]

Of course. My father always said I had excellent fingers for braiding.

[vallt]

[at the very least, the woman is doing as she's told, so that saves them the time they'd waste having some stupid argument about it. still, jyn rolls her eyes as she reaches for the wet clothes to toss them into a pile — and she isn't exactly making an effort to hide that she is.

it's so cold, even with the fire, that her breath clouds in front of her as she huffs, and a visible shiver moves through her, too. she tries for a sort of deadpan when she speaks again, but the effect isn't entirely there because that shiver is also audible.]

Trying to help you.

[what a specific and helpful answer! she shifts, grabbing her discarded jacket from the floor and moving to drape it around them.]

Get closer.

[pinkmists]

[ Oh, thank god. Someone who actually looks young enough to be closer to her age than to her parents'. (....You know, not counting the fact she's been wrangling her parents in teenage-form for the past few days of her life.)

But there's an immediate sweep of relief as she turns to the young man, though it's almost just as immediately wavering a bit as she really gets a good look at him. He looks rough — and she's probably no prize peach right now either, but.... he looks shaken. And she is too, and somewhere up under there Jamie's probably due for about five mental breakdowns, but there's something that pushes her too hard. Maybe it's that surge of adrenaline, the constant underlying fear that she's being stalked because why wouldn't she be? If she's here, the killer probably is too. He could spring out any moment, of any dark corner, any shadow. He'd been lying low, until he wasn't anymore, and then he was just fucking attacking people openly. In a full room. He just wanted them dead.

She shakes it off for the moment, lifts her brows as he pats himself down to no avail, then starts holding up fingers instead. Ah — she understands, nods as she counts the numbers he shares, even if he looks uncertain as he shares them. ]

1990, huh? Well at least if that's true, I'm out of the 80's. I'd be happy to never see another leotard and leg warmer combo for the rest of my life.

[ Said with her usual brand of dry sarcasm, which is mostly to cover up the fact she's absolutely terrified inside.

Pause, as she looks him over again. Weird that he seemed so unsure about it — weird, but telling. What the hell could that mean? Someone else time-traveled? ]

You're not from here, either? Did you wake up out in the middle of nowhere, too?