October 2023 Test Drive Meme

[singmod]

OCTOBER 2023 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 — not to mention the fact they are not the first to come here.

PROMPT TWO — GUILTY PARTY: Interlopers are kidnapped and held captive by a being and forced to confess their wrong doings, or face fatal consequences.

PROMPT THREE — OFF THE BEATEN TRACK: Interlopers get more than they bargained for when a mysterious albeit friendly dog comes across them and persuades them to follow them into the wilds.

ARRIVAL: METHUSELAH'S FEAST

WHEN: Mid-October.
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 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. 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.

“Ah, more of you have come.” he nods, just as he suspected you might. “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 and coffee, along with soup and stew and trays of charred deer and rabbit meats, plus some grilled fish, instant mashed potatoes, and tinned vegetables. 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 troubled, thoughtful. The arrival of so many is not something that sits well with him. The others from town will eventually trail in too, to eat and warm themselves, and search amongst 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, but perhaps you might be able to get some answers from those fellow arrivals who’ve been in this place for some time now.

GUILTY PARTY

WHEN: Over the next month.
WHERE: Paradise Farm Outbuildings.
CONTENT WARNINGS: forced imprisonment; forced honesty; supernatural beings; confessional themes; threat of death; possible character death; possible death by throat injury.

You don’t remember how you came to be here. The air is cold and damp, the rot of wood is strong, and… blood. Why does it smell of so much blood? You can’t seem to see all that much in the gloom, but you think you’re in some kind of outbuilding of sorts. You find yourself chained to a chair, the metal is heavy and cold against you and no matter whatever you seem to do, you can’t seem to free yourself from them. No struggling can ease their hold, and there’s no lock to unpick or break. They weigh you down in your seat, you can't even seem to tip yourself over.

But you’re not the only one here. Across from you in the dark is someone else. One of your fellow Interlopers is trapped here with you, too. They too don’t remember anything either, they’re equally as confused and uncertain as you. Perhaps frightened. Not only this, they’re also sat chained up just as tightly. You have a little time to talk before you realise the two of you aren’t alone.

There's a glooming green light, the feeling of a presence. A huge figure steps into view, cloaked in black. It’s hard to tell whether it’s a man or a woman, and it’s difficult to make out much detail of them. Their face is obscured by a stone mask in the shape of a monstrous, horned and fanged Jackal. Green light glows from behind it, foreboding in the dark. It will not answer you if you try to speak with it.

“WICKEDNESS LIES WITHIN YOU.” The voice is a fierce chorus of whispers, but yet so loud. It sends a shiver down your spine. “I HAVE SEEN IT.”

... You can’t help but know it to be true. Something inside you knows what they speak of is true. Any misdeed or wrongdoing done by your hand, any cruel word you spoke, any life you took or heart you broke. You feel exposed, seen. The figure knows what you have done.

“CONFESS.” the figure demands. “UNBURDEN YOUR HEART AND BE FREE. BE SILENT AND CARRY IT TO THE GRAVE.”

The figure holds an item in its hand, something that glints in the light that glows from its mask. Now you realise why there’s so much blood in the air: it’s a sickle, dripping with blood. You are not the first to be brought here. You will not be the last.

Speak, unburden yourself, and if the figure is satisfied — you will, in fact, go free. Refuse, or not take the demand seriously, and the figure will deem you unworthy. They will move within the blink of an eye, striking you with the sickle in the neck — let it be a mercy that they kill you quickly.

OFF THE BEATEN TRACK

WHEN: Over the next month.
WHERE: Milton / Milton Outskirts.
CONTENT WARNINGS: supernatural creature; trickster creature; themes of peril; possible character injury; possible dead body discoveries; potential cold injuries/hyperthermia risk; possible character death.

The weather will continue to prove difficult for all who try to navigate this world, but with the current footfall in and around Milton, it’s at least helped to keep paths and roads somewhat clear despite the snow’s best efforts to cover up these walkways. Still, it’s a pain to get around, especially on particularly snowy days. Unfortunately, it’s sometimes necessary to go out on such days — survival doesn’t stop for the weather to pass.

And so journeys must be made, hunting must be done, forageables must be collected. You try to keep to the paths and trails, where the terrain yields before you for an easier journey.

… Until you hear barking through the trees, the sound of paws through the snow. Given the recent wolf activity of the last month, it’s understandable to be on edge. However, it isn’t a wolf that comes into view: it’s a large dog, bigger than any dog you’ve seen before. Coated in thick and shaggy black fur, this animal doesn’t seem to be like the wolves that have been found so far in this world. While the wildlife has certainly been altered, this dog remains very much like anyone would expect a dog to act in terms of behaviour. It’s playful with some, certainly friendly, constantly trying to play chase with you as it loops around in circles with a wagging tail.

However, there’s an insistence with this dog. It wants you to follow it. It will bark incessantly, trying to pull you from the path to go after it into the woods. It wants to show you something, take you somewhere. It will even try to gently pull at a coat-sleeve or trouser-leg to coax your forwards before heading off, keeping just in sight for you to go after it.

You’ll find it increasingly difficult to keep up, even if you pick up the pace as you head further into the woods. There’s less snow here, but the forest floor is filled with holes and tree roots that will trip you up. Falls are likely. But even worse is when before you know it, the ground simply gives way beneath you, sending you tumbling into a small valley or getting you stuck deep into soft, muddy earth. With it, perhaps, twisted ankles or worse. Or perhaps simply battered and bruised and unable to climb out of trench of earth. Maybe you come face to face with the body of some other poor Interloper who'd met their own end in similar manner — trapped and injured in the ditch.

Or worse still, the dog might just have you stumbling over a cliff face and tumbling into the Basin. Whatever fate befalls you, it’s as if the dog simply led you into it. And said dog, however, will be nowhere to be seen. It will have left you stuck, hurt, lost in the woods.

You’re sure you can hear some dark chuckling on the wind. Maybe it’s just the trees.

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.

GUILTY PARTY

1. Characters will find that once they have confessed, they will pass out. When they awaken, they will find themselves lying or sitting on the floor — the being, chairs and chains have gone. They are free to leave.

2. Attempts to search the outbuildings at later dates will prove fruitless. There is no sign of the being, nor the chairs or chains that held characters, but there will be blood on the floor that can be found.

3. One character can confess, or both. Player choice! As long as someone's doing some confessing.

OFF THE BEATEN TRACK

1. Gyests, sometimes called Ghests or Bargyests are evil creatures from Northumberland, UK folklore. They seek to lure travelers away from a known and safe road to their miry and marshy demise, or perhaps lead them to walk in the darkness of a Cheviot night over the edge of a precipice. Often taking the shape of horses, donkeys or large dogs, Gyests could also shape-shift to appear as men, or even stacks of hay. But always their intention was to trick humans, for their own amusement, and lure them to their doom.

2. Attempts to lure or trap the Gyest will not work.

TALES FROM THE NORTHERN TERRITORIES NEWSLETTER

Comments

Lestat de Lioncourt | Interview with the Vampire (AMC)

[flanerie]

1. arrival

Lestat is quite out of sorts.

It has been decades since he encountered true cold, but he is certain it did not bite at him then as it does now. Indeed, almost all of his vital strength seems to have been sapped, although whatever peculiar witchcraft that lifted him from where he lay and transported him here did him the courtesy of mending the gross damage to his body. It even restored some of his belongings to him, a favour which might mollify him somewhat if not for the rude deposit in some forsaken wilderness.

Still. He is himself, and no paltry North Wind can truly harm him. Despite his black mood, crisp night air and the calls of wild creatures are an invigorating improvement over fetid ruin.

Lestat cuts through the forest like a phantom in his bloodied white shirt and fitted black trousers, a meagre bundle tucked under his arm. He entertains himself with the thought he is a true orphan once more, out to make his way in the world unbound by fickle tethers, and although it is not at all true, it is darkly amusing.

It is all darkly amusing, if one has a properly sanguine temperament, as he does. One must laugh if one is not to weep. It is in this spirit that he catches sight of another in the woods. A guide, perhaps, or prey, or both, and does Fate not provide opportunity for those who persevere? He has always thought so, except when he has not.

"Good evening!" He calls out to them, gaily.

2. guilty party

The blood is the first thing to penetrate Lestat's awareness. He breathes it in deeply, savouring the tang of it, however dulled his senses are to true appreciation of the vintage. He lifts his head with eyes closed and lips parted, rolling it over his tongue with hunger-sharpened longing.

He attempts to move his arms, and his eyes snap open. His pupils are vast, pitch-dark hollows crowding the colour of his irises to obscurity, and his lips pull back in a snarl as he jerks at his bindings.

"What is this?" He demands, of the room at large, and perhaps of the companion in front of him, if they are inclined to answer.

3. off the beaten track

Of course Lestat followed the dog. He was taken with it from the beginning, delighted to have stumbled across such a charming creature. He had already begun to make plans to win it over for his own, imagining the sport and usefulness of having a loyal companion for the necessary endeavours in the woods.

Of course it betrayed him. What else could he have possibly expected? All the charming creatures of the world are in conspiracy against him, toying with his affections only to abandon him in the metaphorical and literal mud.

Anyone passing by the muddy ditch Lestat has found himself in will be treated to a liquidly spiteful murmur of invective, reproach, and frustration, paired with intermittent scrabbling. Those who stop to investigate will discover a dishevelled, mud-streaked man at the bottom of a slumped pit, staring up at them as if they have something to do with his plight.

"Well?" Lestat snaps, hands on his hips. "Do you intend to gawk, or make yourself useful?"

4. wildcard
[ PM me or message me at terriblepurpose if you'd like to plot something more specific! ]

2

[organising]

"Um, how the hell am I supposed to know?!"

Caroline is not doing so hot right now, and it's clear in the shrillness of her voice, cutting sharply through the darkness. Her outburst is followed in short order by the sound of her struggling to pull against the chains, which are usually not so much of a problem for her. She could, in another world, have snapped the links like rubber bands. She can't now. So: she's useless.

She gives the chains one final tug for the sake of vanity, and then slumps in her seat with a heavy sigh. "I know about as much as you do. Which is obviously nothing. But we should... stay positive."

[flanerie]

Lestat scoffs at the girl's querulous protest of ignorance, not deigning to answer. Instead, he provides an accompaniment to her struggle with further efforts of his own, which are most vexingly fruitless. He burns with indignation as he flings himself back in the chair as hard as he can, which serves to effect nothing but another clatter of his bonds.

"And how do you propose we buoy our spirits?" He asks, bitingly. "Shall we marvel at the quality of the chains which confine us? Speculate on the delightful possibilities our future holds?"

He does not care for captivity. It makes him pettish.

[organising]

"Oh my god, you sound like a freaking Shakespeare play. And I usually love Shakespeare." He also sounds kind of French, but Caroline thinks it might be rude to say that bit in particular. With a grunt of exertion, she tries to kick her legs out, but only ends up jolting against the chains hard enough to hurt. Slumping back with defeat, she gusts out, "Ugh. I am so sick of being kidnapped," with the world-weariness of someone who absolutely isn't kidding.

As her eyes adjust a little to the dark, she can make out the vague shape of the man opposite her. She blows out a deliberate breath to centre herself. "Okay. If they wanted us dead we'd be dead already, so... there has to be a way out. Right? We just have to find it."

[flanerie]

As far as Lestat recalls, it is not usual for mortals to be kidnapped very often unless they possess some bloodline, wealth, or other quality worth capitalizing on. Given this young lady's unpolished manners, Lestat guesses it is some 'other' that makes her a coveted prize.

Whatever the cause for her experienced resignation, it does spare him dealing with the tiresome fuss of screaming and tears. Small favours yet remain in the world.

"I am sure the lauded Bard is glad of your esteem," he says, curbing the acid of his tone just barely - but surely, he cannot be blamed for not being at his gracious best, under these conditions. "As for a way out - I favour a direct path. I shall get loose of these bonds, and when our captors present themselves, I will tear out their throats. Is this amenable to you? I know I will find it quite enjoyable."

The fact he has no clear means of freeing himself is an obstacle to this, to be sure, but with such a heartwarming prospect in his future he is re-emboldened to work his wrists against the chains.

3

[ploiesti]

Of course Claudia followed the dog. What kind of hunter turns their nose up at a chase? Claudia has no intention of drinking the thing's blood. She runs instead for the approximation of warmth that flows through her veins, for the rise and fall of breath that almost feels like the beating of a heart.

But this dog is awfully fast, a fact that's proven to be unbelievably infuriating. Claudia has felt strange ever since she's arrived here, and the fact that she can't easily catch up with the beast is just another stupid, ridiculous part of that. As it turns out, though, her pace is a blessing in disguise: Claudia is able to see the dog leap in front of her, and she's able to skid to a stop before careening over the edge of the pit that's come out of nowhere.

Claudia kneels at the edge. She looks down, searching for her prey. Instead, she finds something far, far worse.

"Oh, I'll be there right away! Anything for you, Lestat."

Claudia sits down properly now, swinging her legs in front of her and kicking them back and forth as annoyingly and childishly as possible. She does not intend to make herself useful.

"Poor thing, left all by himself, alone in the dirt."

[flanerie]

Her.

Rage ignites Lestat's blood. His face contorts in an animalistic snarl, lips pulled back from sharpened fangs and eyes as black as open graves. If he was in possession of his full faculties, he would fling himself at the side of the pit and scale it in an instant, seize his wayward fledgling by the neck and shake her as a terrier does a rat. And that would only be the beginning for her. He has already devised a multitude of fitting punishments, each more inventive than the last.

But he is humiliatingly weakened, and to throw himself at the side of his trap in fury would only delight her when he failed to reach her. Were he to lunge for her ankles, she would thrill to pull them away, laughing her awful lilting child's laugh. He must control himself, for the moment. If only for the moment.

"Claudia," he purrs, with all the latent menace of a great cat, "Do I have you to thank for this as well, my treacherous little nightshade?"

[ploiesti]

It's fun, watching Lestat snarl like the trapped animal he is. It'd be even more fun to watch him die. But, alas, the world is terribly cruel to the pair of them. She laughs her terrible little laugh anyway, because Lestat's undeath is nothing but suffering.

"You don't," Claudia concedes, because she loses nothing by doing so. "Although it's awfully flattering of you, to think that I have the power to transport you to some frozen hell. Trust me, if this were my doing, you wouldn't be talking to me, and I wouldn't even grant you the dignity of being thrown with the dogs."

Claudia's laughter stops. Her smile falls. She discards the mask of childhood, which never fit her well in the first place.

"Are you just going to sit there? I suppose I don't mind. I've got all night to watch you starve."

season 1 spoilers

[flanerie]

Lestat favours Claudia with a narrow eyed and joyless smirk, cocking his head as he regards her and her proposal. Without further ado, he folds his legs underneath him and sits down in the muck, folding his arms across his chest.

"I shall," he declares, pettily, "I dined earlier in the evening, and I have little interest in providing you with further entertainment. I am afraid such indulgences are the province of family, and we are done with that little fiction, are we not, sister?"

He is glad, fleetingly and bitterly, that it is only the two of them. The performances she puts on for Louis are sickeningly insipid. Of the many Claudias contained within her, he has always preferred the most honest.

"And do not puff yourself up with presumption on my account. Digging a miserable pit in the woods is within even your meagre strength, but the greater part of our circumstances? You could only be as much a victim as I am." His smile widens, pitilessly bright. "Another postponement to your travels. How unfortunate."

1

[solitarysoul]

Levi wasn't expecting to run into someone else in the woods, let alone someone he didn't at least vaguely recognize. He stops and turns to face Lestat.

"Uh...hi?"

[flanerie]

A young man, hardly more than a boy, with something frayed about his edges. All of that is plain at first glance. What is not plain are his thoughts, which gives Lestat a moment's pause. Those immune to his gift tend to have some other special quality to them, so he must proceed with a touch more caution than he might otherwise.

That is no trouble. He had no intention of being anything but his most gracious self at the beginning.

"How fortunate I am to have come across you," he says, smiling winsomely, "As you may see from the state of my clothing, I have had quite a night. Would you be so kind as to direct me to the closest town or city?"

[solitarysoul]

"Did you just, uh, wake up here?" That's what happened to him and he's pretty sure it happened to everyone else too.

"Y-yeah...I can take you back to town. But, um, don't expect much there."

[flanerie]

"So I am not the only one to have arrived under these circumstances?"

How curious. Lestat cocks his head as he considers it, then tucks it away for reflection later. He is too experienced to allow himself to linger on the improbable whenever it happens to arise.

"I shall temper my expectations, but any habitation will be an improvement on the wilds, will it not?" He flashes one of his most charming, disarming smiles.

3

[bigbaddy]

Ironically enough - or perhaps luckily enough for Bigby - it's Lestat's presence that keeps him from ending up with exactly the same fate. Because of course Bigby would follow a dog. He'd trust a dog over absolutely any human in this place.

Even if that was - apparently - the wrong decision here. He only realises the dog is gone when he looks up from Lestat's pitiful form, seeming to completely ignore the other's words for a moment to look around and no longer see the creature anywhere. And just as Bigby was about to stumble into the same ditch too.

.. It's something to think about, but.. fine, fine. Bigby will at least turn his attention towards the muddied stranger first. He guesses.

"Have you seen a dog around here?"

Not an answer to Lestat's question, huh.

Though Bigby will likely eventually help the other out of the ditch. Just.. you know, a moment later than he might have if Lestat had actually been polite about it. He might as well ask the important thing first, then.

[flanerie]

How rude of this stranger. Lestat looks irritated for a moment, then smooths his features out to present a winsome and charming smile.

"A black dog, of unusual size and friendliness? Yes, I saw him. I imagine he is still roaming about somewhere."

That the dog led Lestat to fall into this hole is a fact he omits for the simple reason that he is not interested in revealing he was lured by the beast. He does not care if the same misfortune befalls others, if indeed the two events are connected. For all that he knows, it is a complete coincidence.

"If you hoist me out of this little predicament, I would be glad to repay the favour by joining you in your search." That is true. He is not even angry at the creature, in truth, even if it is to blame for what befell him.

[bigbaddy]

Lestat has Bigby pegged right in one way - Bigby does want to go off and look for the thing right away. If this guy has seen it, then clearly the animal must still be somewhere around here. And there's definitely a part of Bigby that feels like looking for the dog sure beats absolutely any other activity that involves other people.

You know, like helping Lestat out of his little predicament.

On the other hand, there's a part of Bigby that's too good to really consider abandoning the other like this. Especially in a place where it's far too easy to freeze or starve to death - or both.

So even though he honestly isn't sure how honest the other is about his offer, Bigby lets out a sigh before moving in a better position to help hoist the other up, stretching out his arm to offer his hand to the other guy.

"Get a little closer, and I can help pull you out." Bigby might not have the strength he was used to anymore, but he's discovered what the limits are that this place has placed upon him at this point. He's still got some of it. Enough that getting Lestat out of the ditch shouldn't be impossible.

[flanerie]

Lestat wastes no time accepting the offer. His grip is strong, the skin of his hand smooth and cool, and he assists his levering out of the pit with physical deftness at odds with someone who wound up tumbling into it in the first place.

Once over the lip he releases Bigby and finishes the rest of his escape himself, winding up on hands and knees, then knees alone as he sits up. He smiles up at Bigby as he tosses his hair back, aiming for charm despite his soiled appearance.

"Thank you," he says, graciously, unfolding to rise to his feet, "I would have hated to spend the night out here."

Or the day, buried in muck and half-frozen like some sort of hibernating frog. He looks down at himself and pulls a face, straightening out his clothing as best he can. Building a wardrobe is already trouble enough without sorting out how he's going to get a greatcoat cleaned.

"Well!" He claps his hands together, returning his attention to Bigby. "In where did you last catch sight of him?"

2

[1000iq]

Power smells the blood, too. Here, in these chains, it's another indignity - blood is her domain, and it ought to respond to her command! But Power can't reach out to it literally because she's all tied up, and she can't reach to it in any supernatural sense because... well. She'll work that out later. Might have something to do with her contract, in which case, she'll give Denji a swift punch to the gut for that! Even though it was her idea!!

So: back to the chains. Power raises her wrists up to her mouth, then chomps down on the metal with her sharp teeth, and flings her head back and forth. It's not particularly effective, so eventually, Power drops that too.

"'Tis a sin! Humans and devils alike must crave punishment, for why else would they restrain the fearsome Power, mistress of the blood! They fear me, you see." Power grins, now chuckling to herself. "'Tis why I have received my own chair."

[flanerie]

As the girl busies herself with efforts to escape, Lestat does the same. There is little chance a fellow captive may answer his question to his satisfaction, so nothing is lost by the pair of them remaining preoccupied with their own considerations at the start.

He does take note of the flash of her rather overabundant sharp teeth as he flings himself forward against his chains with a vivid string of blasphemous curses. He sympathizes with the impulse, despite its tragic lack of efficacy.

When the girl speaks to announce herself Lestat pauses in his squirming. He does like the sound of punishment for whatever humans and (perhaps or) devils devised this imprisonment.

"It's foolish of them to imagine mere chains can hold the likes of us," Lestat agrees, blithely ignoring the fact that chains have been succeeding admirably at holding the likes of them. "They will pay dearly for such arrogant idiocy."

[dragonflyer]

Oh it's evening. Whether it's good or not remains to be seen.

[His smile was sharp, teasing and more than a tad distrustful. For the first time in his life, his body felt heavy-- like a stone on a cliff face beside the sea. The cold evening breeze whipped at the loose, neutral colored cloak he had been wearing over his brightly colored clothes.

There was Nothing good about the day so far. He was in an unknown land, away from his brothers, his princess, and his friends. What was there to appreciate in a cold landscape that was barren of a living human touch?

Jae-Ha sighed to himself and pulled down his hood-- revealing a shock of long, glossy hair that was as green as the pine trees.

He could still smile.

A smile was all he had.]

You seem pretty energetic in this cold, dreary place.

[flanerie]

[ A familiar sort of attitude, a rather unexpected eruption of colour about the hair. Lestat has some acquaintance with theatre and its artifices, and so judges this is either the finest wig he has ever seen, or the product of some new ambitious frontier in the colouring of hair.

Interesting, but not disconcerting. ]

What can I say? I'm prone to optimism. [ He says, breezily. ] It keeps the blood flowing.

[dragonflyer]

That it does.

[The words were uttered with a staccato-like briskness akin to that of the strings of an instrument being plucked one at a time by a talented hand.]

Although, I much prefer optimism in the company of someone... Fair. With a warm drink and plenty of moonlight to waste away. That is, before we need to dodge travelling soldiers or city guards on the streets, of course.

1

[skelters]

It feels like he's been walking for hours. The cold is a new thing for Vash - at least, not to this level. The desert of Noman's Land falls to freezing temperatures, but as Vash meanders through the woods it seems to seep into his very blood and bones, his fingers frozen stiff as he crunches through the snow, slipping occasionally as he shifts his weight too oddly - it is a different sort of terrain than the shifting sand that he is used to walking on. As he walks, Vash keeps an eye out for any other sign of movement around him, in the hopes that maybe one can answer some of the more pressing questions running through his head. Or maybe he is just looking for a sign of any other living being in the middle of all this silent, frozen desolation.

It will be almost at the same time that Lestat notices him that Vash catches sight of him also, and he will straighten up a little (as best as his frozen limbs will allow), waving a hand wide.

"Hello!"

It is only when he steps closer enough that Vash notices the blood on the other's shirt, and the bright, hopeful expression on his face to shift direction into something more like concern.

"Are you hurt?" Vash ventures out, taking another step closer to Lestat, before he slows down, glancing at the other's face again as if to check. He holds out both hands (one, prosthetic that gleams bright like polished glass), palms up, as if in a little bit of a helpless, harmless gesture. "Do you need help?"

[flanerie]

When in distress, it can always be hoped that a beautiful stranger comes to your aid. Imagining such scenarios can be a pleasant diversion from whatever trouble might beset a lost soul. Lestat hadn't been entertaining such fantasies at the moment, but having it delivered to him all the same is certainly not unwelcome.

What a wonder of a device over his hand, as well - the shine of it catches Lestat's eye at once, and he is impressed with the craftsmanship, how seamlessly it is articulated.

"I was," Lestat says, warmly, "But it seems whatever forces transported me here saw fit to rectify it. Tragically, my shirt was not so fortunate."

Nor were his pants, but at least blood stains disappear into black. He smiles winsomely at the man, pleased to soak up a richly deserved ounce of consideration for his plight.

"I could use some help getting out of this forest, if you happen to know the way to the nearest town. I'm hopelessly lost, I'm afraid."

[skelters]

As inhuman as the glass-metal limb looks, Vash seems to have no problem articulating with it as he visibly sags in relief at the other's answer, all caution disappearing from his stance as he approaches closer to Lestat. It's a little concerning, actually, how easily he seems to drop his guard at the first sign of friendliness - and any cautious movement of his hands or in the way Vash walks, it is more as though he is afraid of scaring the other man, and not the other way around.

"Oh, that's good!" Here, he catches himself, his features crinkling into an awkward, embarrassed laugh. "I mean, not good that you were hurt, but good that you are okay right now. I mean..."

Carefully, glancing at the other's expression again, Vash will reach out to catch hold of a sleeve stiff with crusted blood, as though he still needs to make sure.

"I'm afraid I'm just as lost as you are. But at least we aren't alone, right? I'm sure we can find a road soon enough!"