February 2025 Test Drive Meme

[singmod]

FEBRUARY 2025 TDM

PROMPT ONE — ARRIVAL: METHUSELAH'S FEAST: A 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 — and the current inhabitants, their fellow survivors.

PROMPT TWO — WINTER'S BITE: Tales of superstition from the Northern Territories appear to come to light in the form of fearsome creatures made of ice and bone.

PROMPT THREE — FROZEN HEARTS: A strange, new affliction causes Interlopers to find themselves figuratively and literally turning to ice, and there's only one way of saving them.

ARRIVAL: METHUSELAH'S FEAST

WHEN: Start of the 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.

These are the words of the Darkwalker, you’ll soon come to find.

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. This place has been ransacked, abandoned long ago. 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.

The daylight is thin. Hours are few. It will get dark soon.

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. You’ll find one soon enough. It’s here you may find someone else in the same boat as yourself, equally freezing and confused. 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 see it: the lazy trail of smoke rising in the air. Fire. Not just one, but several. Civilization...?

Follow it, and soon enough the way you’ve taken will certainly become a path or road. Unfolding before you in the mountainous forests, you’ll see the most welcome of sights: 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.

Towards the center of town, you’ll find the building from which the biggest of the smoke trail rises: a school-house of sorts, or some kind of community hall. Perhaps both. 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. Others may look as if they could faint from the cold at any second.

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. He smiles warmly, and with pity, ushering you in with haste.

“They come again. I had thought we may not see more of you.” 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. You are not the only one, the lights are changing things. Come. Mother Nature has not been kind to you, but there are plenty here to help.”

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 laden with food, drinks and bottled water similar to one might find at a soup kitchen. Once again, Methuselah offers a feast, aided by some of the other Interlopers.

There are canisters with hot herbal teas, mostly. But some coffee can be found. There’s also soup and stew and trays of charred deer and rabbit meats, plus some grilled fish. It’s very basic, but it’s hot and filling. A feast for those who have battled the cold to come here.

Methuselah will continue to busy himself, still; there is plenty to do. He will fetch blankets, tend to wounds, serve food and drinks — aided by a handful of others in the Hall. Your fellow survivors, but those who have been here for some time now. 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 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, but gesture to your fellow survivors. They will have better answers than him.

WINTER'S BITE

WHEN: The Month of February.
WHERE: Everywhere.
CONTENT WARNINGS: supernatural beings; magical beings; potential cold injuries; potential cuts/bleeding

Amongst the original inhabitants to the Northern Territories, superstition and folk tales were much more prominent — stemming from a mix of superstitions that settlers brought with them to the area and those beliefs of people native to Northern Territories. Some are familiar to Interlopers, others may be less so.

Much of this is now lost, with the population of Milton dead or gone, but some writings can be found in the town. Some wrote of their superstitions in regards to the changing weather and wildlife in personal journals in the lead up to what is known as The Flare, which may still be found in the empty homes uninhabited by Interlopers. Some note feeling as if 'the souls of the animals are angered somehow' or that the changes to the Aurora may be as if 'the afterlife comes too close to the world'.

Maybe they had a point, maybe they were on to something. It’s hard to really say for sure.

Whether it’s magic, some supernatural cause, or something caused by the Aurora, there’s a strange shifting in snow that blankets the Northern Territories. Throughout the month, angry chittering and clacking — like glass or bones — can be heard out in the wilds. Out of the corner of one’s eye, they may see the snow move of its own accord — with confronting it leading to nothing, and stillness.

For a time.

Until whatever it is finally strikes.

Out from the snow, spectral creatures comprised of ice and animal bone spring forwards — jittering and clunky in their movements. Long bodies that twist and dance in the air, all sharp teeth and even sharper ice. Is it a kind of animal? Or spirit? Some mix of both? An angered spirit of nature or some long dead animal? It’s hard to tell for sure.

Despite their clunky movements, their bodies rolling and jaws chattering, these strange spectral creatures are fast and they’ll strike hard — looking to take a chunk out of the unsuspecting and unprepared Interlopers. Even just brushing against one of these strange creatures can lead to some nasty lacerations if they knock themselves hard enough against you. What’s maybe worse than the lacerations themselves is the wounds will burn with their chill, colder than anything you’ve ever felt.

But being made out of bone and ice means they are also just that. Blunt force may just be enough to end up shattering the bodies of these creatures, sending their remains flying. Be careful, though. Those shards are still just as sharp and will become flying projectiles which could cause further injury to Interlopers.

Alternatively, a way to battle back these ice creatures would be through the use of flame. Fire, torches, Interlopers with the Lightbringer Feat would prove vital in getting rid of these creatures long enough to get to safety.

Fleeing is also an option. The creatures will attempt to chase for a time, but will soon give up and end up returning to the snow once more.

FROZEN HEARTS

WHEN: The Month of February, into March.
WHERE: Everywhere.
CONTENT WARNINGS: supernatural ailments; body horror; characters turning to ice; potential character death.

The cold is a persistent thing in the Northern Territories. Even during the summer months, it doesn’t seem to get warm all that much. But the winter is a different kind of beast, and the cold seems to sink into your very bones.

It starts with a kind of cold that you find it hard to get warm, no matter how long you spend by the fire. In time, it feels like that cold has started freezing your body up: your joints feel stiff and sore. Moving around is a chore, even for the simplest of tasks like walking or sitting down. In time, it gets into the smaller joints: fine motor skills become tricky. You drop things, fail to grip on to items, struggle to close your hands into fists. Even talking can be a bit of a struggle, like you’re slowly getting lockjaw.

With that, it’s not surprising that your mood will dip. Sour moods, and even icy manners aren't out of the ordinary. It’s easy to be miserable when you’re so damn cold and you’re struggling to move and speak. It is so easy to find yourself with lowered spirits, to be irritable and closed off from your fellow Interlopers.

It feels as if nothing might warm you, physically or emotionally.

You find yourself being cold towards others, even those you care about most, your closest companions in this world. You may snap at them, or continually brush them off. You find yourself with little patience for them, and are often unmoved by their attempts to bring you some good cheer.

And certainly, what isn’t out of the ordinary is the strange affliction that plagues your skin. It isn’t frostbite, that you know of. Your skin doesn’t turn red, then white then black. No, it turns blue, frosted with white. Your skin looks less like skin and more like stone….. Or, rather, ice.

It starts in the fingers and toes, and will slowly work its way up your limbs, working its way towards your center. Even your hair may start to freeze. As it progresses, you find it harder to move. In enough time, you may find yourself completely frozen on the spot, and in time, unable to even speak as the ice slowly encloses around you.

If something isn’t done quickly enough, you may find yourself completely turning to ice and being trapped as nothing more than a statue.

Hope isn’t lost, though. They say in stories there’s such things that might save some terrible affliction such as this: An act of true love.

This cold isn’t beaten back by flames, but a different kind of warmth.

But what is true love?

It might just be enough to reverse the effects and undo this terrible affliction before it’s too late, to let the ice slowly melt back again and restore you to what you once were.

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.

WINTER'S BITE

1. Digging in the snow where the creatures have returned will prove fruitless, Interlopers will not even find bones.

2. The creatures can spring on Interlopers in groups of up to three.

FROZEN HEARTS

1. The notion of true love is open to interpretation. Platonic love, familial love, romantic love could be deemed as acts of true love. Perhaps even the genuine compassion of a fellow Interloper could be seen as true love.

2. An act of showing true love is very flexible! It could be a kiss, a hug, shedding tears for the afflicted, some desperate attempt of helping the afflicted from freezing. Players are encouraged to play around with what this might entail!

TALES FROM THE NORTHERN TERRITORIES NEWSLETTER

Comments

The Operator | Warframe

[devilmind]

i. arrival

[ Somewhere on the outskirts of Milton, a child wakes in a cave.

Or at least, something that looks like a child. Golden eyes, faintly luminous, flicker open. A soft, unblemished brow furrows. This is not where they should be. Not even remotely.

They push themself up and take in their surroundings without comprehension: the stone walls and floor, the rounded mouth of the cave, the wall of white beyond. This could be a dream—or a trap. They remember all too well how the Queens had trapped them in such a vision once, seeking to break them with despair. But the Operator had only come out the other side stronger than before. Surely no one would be foolish enough to try such a thing again. ]

Hello? [ they call out, and try to summon a spark of Void-light to their hand to see by—but nothing happens. They look down at their empty palm with a frown. This must be a dream then. The thought boldens them, and they begin to make their way towards the mouth of the cave and into the frozen landscape beyond.

Their armor—black and studded with yellow lights—stands out garishly against the snow as the Operator squints out through the frigid wind. They feel… strange. Heavier and more solid than usual. The cold wind cuts through their armor and they shiver, fighting the urge to retreat back into the cave. If this is a dream, it must have something to show them. They turn their head, scanning their surroundings—and catch sight of movement out of the corner of their eye.

They whip towards it, one hand flying out in front of them, their palm held up like a weapon. ]

Who’s there? [ they call, their childish voice suddenly hard. ]

ii. winter’s bite

[ Before coming to this place, an animal would not have daunted the Operator—not an animal of flesh and blood, and not an animal of ice and bone, either. They have slaughtered packs of wild kubrows, ripped apart Infested monstrosities, and hunted even the titanic Eidolons that roam the plains of Earth at night.

But they had been strong, then, they and their Warframes. And now, for the first time in centuries, they are nothing more than a child.

They can hear the beast’s slavering breath behind them as they flee, punctuated by the haphazard rattle of bones. They had not gotten a good look at it before it gave chase; they have only the vague impression of a maybe-ursine, maybe-canine shape, skull and skeleton held aloft by traceries of ice.

It is the kind of nightmare a real child would have, chased through the woods by a monster that doesn’t make sense. And, like a real child, the Operator does not have any of their powers to rely on. They cannot blast the beast to pieces with Void energy. They cannot skip through the Void, swift and intangible as the wind. They can only run, and even that option is rapidly closing to them as exhaustion begins to take hold. They cannot keep this up. Their steps are already starting to falter. They make a choice, then, one borne out of mingled instinct and desperation—

They stop running, turn on their heel, and scream in the monster’s face.

It isn’t a cry of terror, nor even one of despair. It is the scream of Valkyr, all throat-searing rage and implacable promise of retribution—played discordantly on a child’s vocal cords. It pierces the winter stillness, so alien and unexpected a sound, that even the beast pauses for a moment, staring at the Operator in dumb, animal confusion.

It won’t be enough to save the Operator on its own—but it might buy them enough time for someone else to intervene. ]

iii. methuselah’s feast

[ It is a small miracle that the Operator makes it to Milton with as few injuries as they have: a few cuts from their encounter with the ice monster, but nothing threatening to life or limb. The elderly man known as Methuselah has already seen to bandaging the wounds, so now the Operator sits on one of the cots, a blanket drawn up around them, trying to understand what’s happening. This doesn’t feel like a dream. But if it isn’t, how have they come to this place? Had one of their enemies banished them here? And how do they get back to where they belong?

Their thoughts are interrupted by a small, mundane sound—the grumbling of their stomach. To most, this wouldn’t be anything to make note of, but when the Operator feels it, they jump. They look down at their own body, eyes wide. ]

Did you hear that? [ they ask whoever’s closest to them, their tone one of amazement. ] I… think I’m hungry.

iii. methuselah’s feast

[clothed]

[ children are uncommon in milton. granted, she's not that far off from being a child herself, but to see someone closer to bran's age than her own under the warm roof of the community hall is— strange. sansa, who had been going from table to table offering warmer and dryer replacements for gloves, socks, or scarves, finds herself brought up short at the sight of the boy.

his wondering tone breaks her heart, too, and sansa approaches him carefully. sits next to him with respectful space still between them as she offers the boy her hand. ]

Is it your first time to be hungry? [ she understands, she thinks, that perhaps he's like her: raised in privilege, never needing to suffer the pain wanting of hunger. ] We have warm food if you like. Sometimes we have sweets.

I'm Lyanna. What's your name?

[devilmind]

[ The Operator looks over at the approach of a young woman with red hair—one of the helpers here, it seems. They do not know how to communicate to her how strange this is to them. In truth, they do not know if they should try. These people are kind; it might not a good idea to trouble them with the truth of what the Operator is. At best, it would give them false hope. At worst, it could deeply, deeply frighten them.

The Operator takes the hand offered them. Their own hand is gloved, the pads of the palm dotted with what feel like flat metal studs. ]

No, [ they answer honestly. ] It was just... a very long time ago. I guess I should eat something.

[ They glance over at the table full of food. Had they liked sweets, once upon a time? Sometimes, when they visit Cetus, they buy a few fruits to keep on their Orbiter. Even without the need to eat, they like the colors and the scent. Aside from that, they remember little of their preferences. It's probably just as well that they can't afford to be picky now.

They look back at the young woman—Lyanna—and pause at her question. Hunger isn't the only thing they've forgotten; they also haven't had a name for a very long time. Though, they do have quite the collection of aliases... ]

You can call me Ayatan, [ they say at last. ] It's nice to meet you, Lyanna.

[clothed]

Ayatan, [ she repeats, testing the syllables of the name. ] It has a lovely ring to it. I'm happy to meet you as well.

[ and she means it, too. the way the name rolls on the tongue reminds her of arya, and it reminds her of how dearly she misses her sister. how long it's been since they've last seen each other. is she safe? is she still alive?

sansa knows she can't dwell on her worries if she means to survive the milton cold. the milton cold has taken its own meaning for her, too, now that she's lived here for months. when the mist falls across the town, she now expects something horrific might occur. poisonous beasts and monsters of different shapes, or torments of the mind — many scary things.

she would still choose this place over ramsay, however. she has jon here. she has friends here.

sansa kneads at where she thinks the knuckles are on the gloved hand, attempting to offer some comfort or grounding to the younger boy. ]

Do you know what you usually eat? We could try whatever you like from what we have, if you prefer that.

Your gloves have metal. Is it armor?

[devilmind]

[ The Operator smiles faintly at Lyanna's remark on their "name." In truth, an Ayatan is a lovely thing—at first glance. But they know all too well the double-edged meaning of the sobriquet the Etrati had bestowed upon them. ]

I like fruits, [ they say vaguely. ] But I'm not picky. I'll eat whatever the people here are kind enough to give.

[ This is clearly not a land of abundance, after all. The Operator will not strain these people's generosity by requesting delicacies they do not have to spare. Plus, it is likely that the intervening centuries with neither food nor the memory of it has wiped away whatever preferences they once had. They are a blank slate in that regard.

It is sweet how Lyanna attempts to comfort them—though the Operator knows they are being mistaken for something far younger and more innocent than they actually are. It discomfits them, but then, without their powers, they have neither the means nor the motive to correct that misapprehension. Still, for a moment they look at the young woman with a sudden intensity, their incandescent golden eyes unblinking as they search hers for any sign of recognition of what they truly are.

Void devil. Dreamer. Tenno. ]

Not quite, [ they answer her softly. ] It helps me focus.

i'm so sorry this took so long 😭

[clothed]

Is it something you have trouble with often, focusing?

[ she asks out of genuine curiosity. is it something like an impulse? sometimes, when she's anxious over a matter, sansa would find herself wringing the hem of her shirt, or twisting her skirts in her lap. she's seen soldiers and knights tighten their fists round the handles of their weapons before they strike, too; perhaps it's something of the sort, or a deeper instinct.

sansa won't press the matter to discomfort, but it does pique her interest more. the gloves are a detailed design, and well-made. if nothing else, they've cost its maker a handful of gold.

and there's another matter: ]

You're allowed to have your preference, yes? We don't always have much here, but surely you could choose?

[ she remembers her mother, suddenly. lady catelyn's warm hand on her shoulder, her guiding voice, the warmth of the kitchens as sansa is introduced to the serving staff. ask, but ask politely, her mother had said. you must always respect your household, as its lady.

has the boy's mother failed him? ]

If you wouldn't mind telling me about your home, perhaps I could help you be more comfortable.

i. arrival

[burying]

[ ... Christ, it's another one.

He's out gathering firewood; but considering what he is, what he is — this is him being useful. He can venture out into the woods without having to worry about getting hurt with the cold. He couldn't feel it anyway, but ever since that dream... things are different. It doesn't matter how long he's outside, he never seems to get himself hurt with the cold.

So maybe this is what he can do: help the new lot get to Milton safely. It won't wash anything clean, it never will — and he never expects it to. But it's the right thing to do.

Kieren's slow on the approach, tall and awkward-gaited. It's not the snow, his body doesn't fit as well as it used to. He raises his hands in a defensive gesture. It's just a kid. Younger than him, wearing— well, Kieren doesn't know exactly what they're wearing. Like something out of a sci-fi movie. But he means no harm, genuinely. ]

Hey, it's okay. I'm friendly.

[devilmind]

[ The Operator stares at the pale-faced boy. He is clearly no Corpus or Grineer, and besides that, he has no weapon. A civilian, then, of whatever planet—or dream thereof—they've found themselves on. Their hand drops to their side. ]

I'm sorry, [ they say, voice softening again. ] I don't know how I got here. Can you tell me where we are?

[ The weather would suit Venus, but the flora is like that of Earth—trees rather than fungus. The most likely explanation is still that this is some sort of dream or vision—but then, who is this boy? The Operator is sure they don't recognize him. ]

[burying]

It's okay. There's a lot going on, it's okay. [ Honestly, getting dumped in this place is enough for someone like Kieren, let alone someone who looks a whole lot younger than him. He lowers his own hands, his brow furrowing. ] The Northern Territories. It's in Canada. Not on the mainland. I... don't really know much more than that.

[ None of them do, really. Not even the Canadians seem to know where this place is. All they know is that it's the middle of bloody nowhere and there's a whole lot of weird, awful shit that goes on. ]

People end up getting dumped in this place, you're not the first. There's a town not too far from here where we all stay.

[devilmind]

[ The location names pass over them without eliciting the slightest trace of recognition. It's useful to know that other people have also appeared here in the same way they did and that there's a settlement nearby—but the Operator's original question, as far as their concerned, has still gone unanswered. ]

I'm not familiar with the local geography, [ they say, a slight frown on their face. ] Can you tell me what planet we're on?

[burying]

[ It gives Kieren pause, and he's frowning. Because surely everyone's heard of Canada. It's Canada. But the next thing they say about asking for what planet makes those furrowed brows shoot up— holy shit. ]

It's Earth. [ Well, this is... new for him. I mean sure there's been people from other worlds but they've not exactly looked like regular humans. ]

Are.. are you from space?

[devilmind]

[ There's recognition in the Operator's eyes when he mentions Earth—followed swiftly by confusion. ]

Earth? But there's no Grineer... [ No Ostrons, either, though that's unsurprising outside of the Plains. The Operator had thought that those were the only two populations active on the planet.

At his question, their brow furrows more deeply. ]

Yes. Or, that's where I was before here. Aboard my Orbiter. [ A beat. ] Is that... not common around here?

i

[solitarysoul]

[The boy in the oversized coat with a rifle on his back freezes and raises his hands. He's not sure why this person would hold their hand like a weapon but he doesn't want to scare are startle them regardless.]

It's okay. I don't mean any harm.

[devilmind]

[ The Operator eyes the rifle on the boy's back, but when he raises his hands, they lower their palm. He clearly isn't Corpus or Grineer, and he doesn't look like he has any intention of using the weapon. Still, his presence here is odd. The last time they had a vision like this, there hadn't been any people there. Could this one be different? ]

Who are you? What is this place?

[solitarysoul]

I'm Levi. We're outside a town called Milton, in Canada. All of us just sort of wake up here.

ii

[bigbaddy]

[ There's another upside to the scream. Not only does it momentarily stun the creature that had been chasing the Operator - but it also alerts other people to something going on out here.

Bigby can hear that utterly strange sound while he's out there, after all. And though some people might hesitate to go near anything that sounds like that, the man instead starts sprinting in its direction, trying to find out what's going on out here.

The creature is-- well, perhaps a little expected. It isn't like anything he's seen around here before, but this place often spawns weird monsters into being, including that damn ghost bear that still seems to be haunting them. But the other being, the Operator.. That's what surprises Bigby more. He's seen a whole lot in his life, but the Operator still looks a little new to him. But between them and the creature that's not quite an animal, Bigby is pretty sure he knows what the threat is here. ]

I'm going to turn into a wolf. [ He says - a statement that might be outlandish in many contexts, and yet he says it like it's just a fact.

There's no time to explain, after all. That creature is not going to be stunned for long, and Bigby knows it. ]

You jump on my back and hold on, alright?

[ Bigby isn't sure if he can beat this creature - but he does trust his abilities enough to think he can outrun it. ]

[devilmind]

[ The Operator, a bit stunned themself by the unearthly scream they'd just produced, looks over wide-eyed at the sound of someone else coming upon the scene: a man, human and without the armor of a Grineer or Corpus soldier. The Operator's first reaction is fear—not fear of the man, but for him. If they run now, the creature might continue to pursue them, or it might turn on this new person while the Operator is helpless to stop it.

Yet, this grim train of thought is abruptly derailed by what the man says next. The Operator stares, unsure if they've misheard him. He's going to turn into a wolf...?

But there's no time to question it. There's a gentle crackle of ice as the beast, too, turns its head towards the stranger, teeth bared. In an instant, the Operator throws their faith into the man's outlandish promise. They dart towards him, ready to jump on. ]

[bigbaddy]

[ Seeing the child - or the child-like being, Bigby still isn't fully sure what the Operator is - run towards him is all he needs. He makes a sound that seems odd coming out of a human throat. It sounds more like an animal, like his voice is slowly turning into a beast's growl, and a moment later Bigby's body twists and contorts until there's only a wolf standing there instead of a man. A rather large wolf at that. Considering the Operator is like a child, they shouldn't have too much trouble jumping onto Bigby's back and being able to sit there.

And the second the Operator is on there, Bigby starts to run. Not a moment too late, since he can hear the other creature giving chase right away, hot on Bigby's heels. For now he is managing to stay ahead of it though, racing in the direction of where he knows the town to be-- but it's a rather rough ride for the Operator, if they're not holding on tight. It's not like Bigby can take the risk of being more gentle with running, considering that his endurance and speed is the one thing he's got on the other creature right now. ]

[devilmind]

[ The Operator certainly doesn't react like one would expect of a child. They don't scream or cry at the bestial change that comes over Bigby, nor do they hesitate in the slightest to leap onto his back. Their fingers grip tight to the now-wolf's fur, holding on with all their might as they fly through the woods. Now, too, they are silent aside from their own exhausted breathing.

At first, they can hear the monster keeping pace with them, twigs and leaves snapping noisily under its tread, its own breath loud and slavering. But at length, the sounds of pursuit begin to fade, and only then does the Operator risk looking over their shoulder as they're bounced and bumped around on the wolf's back. ]

It's giving up! [ they murmur breathlessly in the wolf's ear.

And so it is. Behind them, some distance off now, the beast gives us crackling, disconsolate roar at its prey being lost, but even that is fading into the winter silence. ]

[bigbaddy]

[ Though the creature may have given up, Bigby continues to run. Thankfully for the Operator it doesn't last too long, considering the rather bumpy ride. It just seems that Bigby didn't want to stop running until they'd reach town, the wolf navigating across the streets until they arrive at the Community Center.

That's when the wolf will stop to let the Operator off once they're inside. The wolf will temporarily wander off into another room, but it doesn't take too long before Bigby - now human again - emerges from it, wearing different clothes than he had when he first ran into the other out there. He loves changing into a wolf, but it's a pain that you have to find clothes again after - not to mention he'll have to go back into the woods to find his old pair later.

But that is, indeed, a problem for later. Right now Bigby approaches the Operator once more, his eyebrows knit together with slight concern.

(And resting gruff face.) ]

You okay?