methuselah (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
singmod) wrote in ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png)
singillppl2025-02-05 07:03 pm
singmod) wrote in singillppl2025-02-05 07:03 pm
Entry tags:
February 2025 Test Drive Meme
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
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.
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.
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!
Lt. Arilanna Tayrey | Original
[She dreams of cold, and of blackness, and when her eyes flicker open, Tayrey thinks that she dreams still, of an icy planet without a name where once she proved her worth. It takes a moment for the confusion of sleep to leave her - but then it does, and young Lieutenant Tayrey realises that she is planetside in truth, and that the creeping cold is very real.
She's on her feet in a trice, glancing around warily. She wiggles her toes in their sturdy spacer boots. Something is very wrong here; she should be shipside, with Savitskaya, handling an L-space transition. She certainly shouldn't be on a planet like this without survival supplies, an antigrav sled, or even a coat. This should frighten her, but she's been taught to numb her mind to fear when she has to. To be decisive. In the command simulations, too much dithering and delay gets everyone killed.
Priority one. Ensure her own survival. Tayrey unties a bright blue ribbon from her hair and attaches it to a nearby tree. A sign of life, if her people come for her. Then she walks. One foot in front of the other. Quick pace. She hasn't gone far when she sees a Tradeline officer's formal coat lying on the ground. Bright blue, double breasted, warm wool. As she picks it up, she listens carefully, thinking that some comrade of hers must have suffered the same misfortune, and she might hear them nearby.
No. It's her coat. It fits perfectly; she'd paid for the tailoring. This is something else that makes absolutely no sense, but Tayrey doesn't think too hard about that. She puts it on, buttons it up, and keeps walking.
There. A figure up ahead. She calls out to them.]
Peace! I ask peaceable contract!
[Not that she isn't prepared to use that gun clipped to her belt if they refuse. Priority one.]
Methuselah's Feast
[Tayrey gulps down sugary coffee as if she'd had nothing to drink for days. She wants the warmth of it, the energy. Shipside, she'd been a coffee snob, imported the stuff from her homeworld at considerable expense and kept it in her private stores. Now she barely tastes it. She's sitting by the fire, wrapped in a warm blanket while she lets her snow-dampened clothes dry. Her undershirt and trousers were fine, thankfully, but she's barefoot. (She remembers, on expedition, the way Kirannen had laughed and indulged her fussing over spare socks. She'd been right.)
Much of the food she passes over, wrinkling her nose. She finally accepts a bowl of vegetable soup, taking small sips of the thin broth. Glancing over at a companion in a nearby chair, she asks:]
Is the situation so desperate on this colony that people are all... eating the flesh of creatures?
[Her voice is hushed, her tone conveying both shock and pity, as if it were some extreme measure to take.]
Wildcard
[Prefer one of the other prompts? Want to plot something out in advance? Please feel free to PM or add me
Arrival
Peace. I mean you no harm. You've just arrived?
[A small dog hovering near the woman’s right foot eyes her warily, but doesn't bark.]
no subject
A failed colony, she thinks, although if that's the truth it doesn't shed any light on how she got here.
It's rude to stare, she knows that much, and so with some effort she brings her face back to impassive neutrality, and extends her hand to shake the other woman's.]
Peace and prosperity. Yes, I... just arrived. I'm not certain how. Or where this is. Exactly.
[It's said with a degree of wariness, as if she can't completely rule out this woman having had some part in it.]
no subject
My name is Randvi, and this is Ulfrùn. We have been brought to this place against our will in the same manner as you. There is a village nearby where you can get your bearings more safely.
no subject
She looks down at the little dog, and tolerates its curious sniffing, but she keeps standing stiffly, not showing the interest or affection that someone more used to friendly pet animals might.
Then her gaze flickers back to Randvi.]
I'm Tayrey. Lieutenant Tayrey of the interstellar Tradelines. You were brought here like this too? [Despite all attempts to maintain her composure, there's a certain fretfulness creeping into her tone.] I don't remember how - is it a kidnapping?
[A half-year lieutenant isn't much of a prize, but a Company director's daughter... no. Tayrey pushes away the thought. If it were something that mercenary, her captor wouldn't have risked her dying in the snow.]
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
Feast
And speaking of:] That's not unusual where most of us come from, but also yes. Food here is pretty scarce. I have a greenhouse up at the old farm if you prefer, but no one can afford to be too picky.
no subject
[There's a hint of sharp defensiveness in her tone. Tayrey had to work hard to shake her image as a pampered Company daughter, but she'd done it. No complaints about tasteless protein blocks, or that one awful trip when they'd all been down to powdered half-rations.]
But there are limits. [If she lacks the words to explain it as a strong cultural taboo, it's only because she hasn't ever encountered a culture that didn't have it.
She realises quickly enough, however, that her attitude isn't conducive to reaching contract with this woman. Her voice softens.]
I'd prefer whatever you have in the greenhouse, yes. I'll find work here as soon as I can, pay you fairly for it.
[She's determined to pay her way. This community might not need a lieutenant astrogator, but she's strong. She can chop wood, carry supplies - at least until she finds something more profitable.]
cw reference to eating raw meat lol
Sorry. [She assumes it's a religious thing from the vehemence, and she doesn't eat beef for the same reason.] We mostly operate on the barter system around here. If you can cut wood to help feed the boiler that's good enough for me.
no subject
I can cut wood. I'll do that, fair contract. What is it that you're growing?
[Plain curiosity. Whatever it is, it'll keep her alive.]
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
Methuselah's Feast
[ His face doesn't really say anything, though, his expression carefully blank as he regards her for a few moments. ]
Crops don't grow so well in snow.
[ Is what he chooses to say. ]
no subject
She nods, slowly.]
I suppose not, but you don't need a favorable climate for lab-grown proteins or powdered concentrates.
[Tayrey isn't wrong. Unfortunately for her, though, she's lacking all context.]
no subject
You do need a "lab", though. And probably power to run it.
[ He's not entirely sure how "electricity" works, but that seems to be what was powering those lamps Chloe wanted... the lamps that would work a few days a month at best. He's honestly not sure whether the greenhouse has been doing any good during the dark months. ]
no subject
[The words are out of her mouth before she realises exactly what his statement implies. Understanding dawns quickly, however, and her eyes go wide. How long had this place been uncontacted and without resupply?]
If your generators have broken down, I can try to fix them. I'm no engineer, but I can do basic repairs.
[Playing friendly face of the Tradelines, despite everything. All she can imagine is some long, slow technological decline, skills being lost over generations. Still. Tayrey might be an earnest, idealistic young officer, but even she knows the real problems here must run too deep for any individual, however determined, to fix.]
What happened here?
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
arrival!
Things are more quiet now, but the remnants of the ordeal remain — trees and fences and parts of buildings broken in places. Several of the few shops dotting Milton are in need of repair, and many homes as well. It's still not an ideal time for newcomers, and in truth, Konstantin isn't expecting to see any of them again for a long time to come.
Which is why, when a young woman he doesn't recognise calls out to him in the stillness, he finds himself startled, brows lifting. He turns towards her, a tall man in a thick fur-lined coat, hands shoved deep into his pockets. Being out here a little ways from town is always a risk for him — his condition's been especially bad these days, after that storm, after so much chill breathed in and out of his body, after so much cold the creature that occupies him is so incredibly sensitive to. It's been... damaged, he thinks, and this place keeps it from being able to heal itself the way it could before. It aches in him more than it even usually does, a coiled-up thing in the softest parts of his insides, asleep during the day but not comfortable.
But he can't sit still for long, and he's never been afraid of risk. In fact, some part of him craves it, seeks it out, and maybe that's why he's out here alone when he should be inside, getting some physical activity in some attempt to maintain his vigorous routines back home. It's something, even if it's not enough, even if he hurts, breath a little strained, eyes a little dull. ]
Oh— hello there! [ Konstantin calls out, friendly even through his surprise, voice coated in a deep Russian accent. And then, given her words, he adds quickly, easing one gloved hand out of his pocket to hold it up as he waves to her— ] I come in peace!
[ There's a quick glance around the area before he starts shuffling towards her in his thick boots, trudging through snow. No, he doesn't see anyone else out here, but that's pretty typical of new arrivals; they're scattered all over the place. It was over a year ago now that he woke up deep in the woods himself, blood pooling from a gunshot wound to the belly and more coming up from his mouth. ]
Did you only just wake up here?
no subject
Peace and prosperity!
[She says this emphatically as she reaches him, and that is protocol, both a greeting and a formal offer of peaceable contract. That nobody on this planet knows anything of Tradeline customs is an unfortunate fact that she's still mercifully unaware of. In lieu of the usual handshake she gives him a neat bow.]
My name is Tayrey. Lieutenant Arilanna Tayrey, of the interstellar Tradelines.
[She exhales, her breath condensing, and stamps her feet to keep them warm, boots compacting the snow.]
I did... wake here. [What an odd way to put it - but true enough.] I don't know what happened. I was shipside, and then I woke here.
[Shipside, in L-space, which should rule out even the most fantastical explanations including kidnapping and planetary transport. Yet here she is. It's possible she was drugged, isn't it? Lost time - and then there's the way she woke, in her everyday uniform, with a coat that she didn't remember wearing left some distance away, as if she'd discarded it in some hypothermic delirium.
Had she? No, she tells herself, she'd be in a much worse state now if she had. Clearly she hadn't been lying in the snow long before she woke.]
I don't remember what happened. [She corrects herself.] I need to send a message upsystem, to my people, can you direct me? I don't have any way to signal from here.
no subject
But never mind that, the stranger just introduced herself as a lieutenant of something interstellar, and that snatches all of his attention. It wouldn't be the first time he bumped into someone here who came from a time or place capable of space travel far beyond his own. But it's always impacting the way nothing else is — some dose of familiarity, even if it's immediately clear that this woman's experience is probably quite different from his own. ]
It's good to meet you, lieutenant, although I wish it were under less baffling circumstances.
[ He would usually offer a hand of his own, but it's clear the cold has her withdrawing, and her attire certainly isn't suitable for this kind of environment. Best to get her back to the Community Center as quickly as possible. He gives a quick, polite nod of his head as he introduces himself in return, though the title feels a little strange coming from his own mouth now. ...When did it start feeling strange? ]
Commander Konstantin Veshnyakov of the Soviet space program — though I haven't been referred to as any of that in a very long time here.
[ That's why it feels strange, he realises, offering a soft laugh at his own words. Titles mean little to the people here; he hasn't been addressed as commander in probably months. But— the matter at hand. The confusion as to how she'd gone from there to here, the immediate need to contact her people. Konstantin remembers experiencing the exact same, asking anyone he could to direct him to a telephone.
He allows himself to pull in a heavy sigh, ignoring the discomfort it brings, and finally frowns a little. Better to tell her this part straight away. ]
Unfortunately, we don't have any communication with the outside world here. This place is... [ How in the world does he explain it? ] ...There's much to tell you about where you've been brought. But we should get you inside somewhere warmer — will you come with me? There's civilisation not too far, people, food, safety. We can talk on the way, and I'll tell you everything I know.
no subject
Her next thought is that he knows how to prioritise. Information won't be of much use to her if she gets too cold to think clearly. Tayrey nods, and begins to walk beside him, as briskly as she can. On the surface, it might look blindly trusting, but in truth, she has already weighed up the probabilities. She's armed, and even if he's lying, that doesn't change the fact that staying put would be a disastrous idea.]
Thank you, Commander.
[Let's hope he doesn't mind the title, because she plans to keep using it. Even if she isn't entirely sure what he means by it.]
You're a spacer, yes? With command of - is the ship you fly called the Soviet?
[It's her best guess, given his words. Not a captain, or he'd have said as much. Not his ship, then. She mentally files him somewhere in the region of what her people would call lieutenant-in-command. Of course, it's the prerogative of independent ships to be as idiosyncratic as they please with their ranking systems. Veshnyakov. It sounds almost familiar to her ears, like something out of Varashka. She'll ask him later. For now, survival has to take priority.]
How far to the settlement? And when you say you don't have outside communications, is it a matter of cost? If you let me patch into a Sibril line, bounce it off the nearest relay station, then my captain will cover the expense, word by contract. You know a Tradeliner's word stands.
[Were she in fact stranded on some remote world not too far from where she ought to be, all of these assumptions would have been sensible. Unfortunately, the young lieutenant is far further from home than she imagines.]
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
Arrival
I, uh, I ask the same. We don't need to fight.
no subject
[The traditional greeting, the formal offer of peaceable contract. Tayrey quickens her pace, approaching the boy. She's naturally wary. For all she knows, he had something to do with bringing her here - but as it stands, he's a resource she can try to make use of. One of very few, out here.]
My name is Tayrey. I'm a lieutenant of the Tradelines. I'm not certain how I arrived on this planet.
[Her voice stays calm and level, any stirrings of panic stuffed down very firmly. She's still representing the lines, no matter the circumstance. Fear won't help anything at all.]
no subject
I'm, um, I-I'm Levi. None of us know how we ended up here.
no subject
[She says it respectfully, but with a certain weight to it, as if to sound solid and reassuring. Much more so than she feels.]
Tell me, did you just arrive here too? Did you wake in the snow?
[If he's in the same predicament as her, she thinks, then he's probably more afraid than she is. They'll have to work together.]
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
methuselah's feast
If it wasn't for the fact that the emotion in her tone sounds so genuine, he would have thought that someone was trying to prank him. Sure, he knows vegetarians exist. It's a thing. But this is going beyond that. Tayrey is talking as if she's never even heard of anyone eating meat at all before. Which is a wild, wild concept, especially to Bigby of all people.
He's stunned into silence for a moment or two before he even manages to open his mouth to reply to her. ]
You mean.. eating meat..?
[ Sorry, Tayrey, but he's so baffled that he's going to need a little bit of clarification here. Maybe he just misheard it? Maybe that's why this sounds so strange to him? ]
no subject
I do! It's - I'm sorry if you haven't any other choice, I'm not trying to condemn, but I didn't think it really happened. Only in those awful holodramas. I helped evacuate a failed colony once, people were near-desperate and they still didn't...
[She shakes her head. She's treating it with the gravity most would reserve for outright cannibalism.]
no subject
But what do animals eat then?
[ Look, he's not going to speak for humans, given what he actually is.
But Bigby can't imagine all carnivorous animals in Tayrey's world just all happily eating carrots. He sure wouldn't have been able to! ]
no subject
It depends on the animal, doesn't it? What planet it's on, and what it's used to. There are some creatures that attack other animals, or even people, and that might be for food, but people don't do that where I'm from. Rationality is what separates us from animals, isn't it?
[She says this cheerily enough, having no idea just how culturally-dependent her beliefs are.]
(no subject)