August 2023 Test Drive Meme

[singmod]

AUGUST 2023 TDM

PROMPT ONE — ARRIVAL: METHUSELAH'S FEAST: A group of newcomers 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.

PROMPT TWO — HOPE NOBODY NEEDS THIS ANYMORE: Once recovered from their journey, newcomers are free to explore the town of Milton for supplies and find any signs of the townsfolk.

PROMPT THREE — THE SIREN OF MILTON BASIN: A mysterious woman haunts the frozen lake of the Milton Basin, trying to lure newcomers to their deaths.

ARRIVAL: METHUSELAH'S FEAST

WHEN: Day One.
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 days, maybe longer. The fire is cold, the dishes in the sink are a little mouldy. 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.

But it won’t be long until you see it: the lazy trail of smoke rising in the air. Fire.

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. As you head into the outskirts and 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, are dark and lifeless, some of them are boarded up. Other than those heading in the same direction, towards the smoke, you won’t find any townsfolk coming to greet you, or even looking at you from behind curtains. … Where is everyone?

Towards the center of town, you’ll find the building from which the smoke 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.

“It seems like a great deal of you have come.” he muses finally. “I am Methuselah. I welcome you Newcomer, although I’m sorry for how you’ve come to find yourself here. Please, warm yourselves. Eat. Get your bearings. Mother Nature has not been kind to you.”

The room is dim, lit mostly by the weak 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, places to rest for a moment and get your bearings, or just trying to recover from the cold or any injuries. Down the other side are tables and chairs, and long, foldable tables laden with food, drinks and bottled water similar to one might find at a soup kitchen.

There are canisters with hot herbal teas and coffee, along with soup and stew and trays of charred moose, deer and rabbit meats, 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.

If you ask him where you are, he will simply respond: “This is Milton, of the Northern Territories.”

If you ask how you came to be here, he will shake his head: “Something has changed. The sky, it was… full of light. The Flare. I felt you coming, a great arrival. But I cannot say for certain how, or why you are here.”

He is regretful, genuinely so. He wishes he had more answers for you, but he does not. Instead he will simply insist you rest, get warm and eat. There is plenty to go around. Eventually, when you feel well enough, Methuselah will gesture to the door: “When you are ready and able, explore the town. Many left, others could not make it out. I have found no one but the dead. They will have no use of the place now, perhaps you might in the meantime.”

HOPE NOBODY NEEDS THIS ANYMORE

WHEN: First couple of weeks since arrival.
WHERE: Milton.
CONTENT WARNINGS: frozen dead bodies, unexplained deaths, suicide, murder.

Other than Methuselah in the Hall, the town of Milton is void of life. While not a particularly large town, there’s a few stores and even a gas station. Life here is rustic. Function over form. Homes are simple but sturdy and warm, it’s a rugged place and one can easily deduce that the folk living here led simple, self-sufficient lives.

Commercial buildings and stores of note include a bank and post office, a hunting/fishing supply store, a grocery store, and a clothing store. There is even a church just on the outskirts of town. The buildings are ripe for picking, with most of them still with the doors unlocked, including the residential buildings. Others are locked, but can be broken into easily enough. A few are even trickier, with some of them boarded up or with entrances blocked. In terms of contents, a third of the residential buildings seem to be almost empty, as if the owners moved out long ago. There might still be things left behind of use: old, warm clothes good for the wintery weather, tools and cooking utensils — but little in terms of food. Even if the former residents move some time ago, they didn’t completely empty their homes.


Most of the homes in Milton seem to be left as if the owner stepped out only a short while ago, and with very little disturbance. Some houses, however, seem to be abandoned in a hurry, with a mess of items strewn about in some last-minute dash to grab essentials: keys, identification, treasured personal items, supplies for a quick exit. Cupboards are typically filled with an abundance of canned goods, and some chilled goods might have survived in the cold weather within the fridge-freezers, but it might be a gamble if one wants to try and eat them. Any and all electronics within homes: televisions, computers, mobile-phones — although dated, will all appear cracked and damaged, and will not function or turn out at all. The same will go for any vehicles around the town: there is no hope of starting any of them.

Diaries and journals kept by the former residents may remark on a change in the weather, with the cold and harsh climate becoming more hostile as of late. Others remark strange lights in the skies, dating several weeks or so ago, strange noises in the air, issues with power and electrical items. Some make mentions of changes to the wildlife, with wolves coming close to the town even when they had never done so before. One or two mention problems on the Mainland, with increasing difficulty of reaching out to loved ones who don’t live in the Northern Territories, or deliveries being unable to arrive. The growing trend is that something odd and terrible has been happening, although no one can truly explain what, and the problems have been growing increasingly worse and worse up to the final entries. You might note that the actual years and dates might not line up with your own: the current year given in these entries is 2014.

The newcomers are free to take over these homes, if they wish. No one appears to be stopping them, and even Methuselah seems to shrug about moving in. And as he’d mentioned, he has found no one but the dead: and plenty of them can be found.

Bodies of the town’s former residence can be found scattered over the town. In homes, in stores, out in the snow. They appear still relatively fresh, although it may be hard to tell if it’s from the cold or if it’s from very little time passing. Most appear to have died from cold exposure, some appear to have simply dropped dead on the spot. Others may be found with a gun in hand. Some, worryingly, appear to have perished by another’s hand. You won’t find the entirety of the town’s population, but there’ll be at least several dozen. Men, women, children.

Methuselah seems to have begun laying the dead to rest, but there’s too many for one man to do. Maybe you can work out what to do with them, try to bury them in their backyards, or try to take them to the churchyard.

THE SIREN OF MILTON BASIN

WHEN: Until the next Aurora.
WHERE: Milton Basin.
CONTENT WARNINGS: mental manipulation, malevolent mythical creatures, falling through ice, attempted drowning/possible successful drowning, potential character death.


Those who venture further south of the town will find themselves traversing the steep, winding paths down towards the Milton Basin. The way down is treacherous, but if enough care is taken you should be able to make it down in one piece. The water is just about completely frozen over down here, thick and sturdy enough to walk over for the most part. Within the Basin there’s more wildlife to be found: deer and rabbit are plenty. And there’s even plenty of foragables, too.

Out on the water are two small ice-fishing cabins, enough to fit one or two people inside comfortably, which hold a few forgotten supplies to try out some ice-fishing if you want to see if anything bites. Both even hold little log burners to keep warm. An old hunter’s shack can be found along the water’s edge, for those not quite brave enough to travel out onto the ice, to take shelter in for when the weather gets a little too difficult, with an old log burner still working within it.

But it’s calm down here, for the most part. Peaceful even. It’s an excellent place for fishing and hunting, and a little more sheltered from the freezing winds.

Until you hear the voice. Something soft and feminine, echoing across the ice. The Basin helps to amplify the sound, and for a long time you can’t quite be sure of where exactly it’s coming from. It’s singing, she is singing. Something old, in a language you can’t quite understand. Maybe it’s not even a language at all, but simply melodic vocalizations. It’s... beautiful, you’ve never heard anything like it before in your life.

And then you see her: a woman standing upon the frozen waters of the Basin. You realise she’s probably the most beautiful woman you’ve ever seen in your life, even if you can’t quite even begin to describe her. She appears different to everyone who beholds her, some one might see her hair is long and dark, others might see her with neat red curls. Some swear her skin is dark and rich, that looks almost plum when the light hits it just so, others claim it to be cool-toned that glistens like sunlight on snow. Whatever someone might find aesthetically pleasing is how she’ll appear, and even then to describe her to others will bring you at a loss for words. And she’s singing… to you, for you.

You’re compelled to go to her, although you can’t explain why. You’re drawn to approach her, to hear her better, see her better. Your feet carry you onto the ice, out into the midst of the Basin. You ignore the calls of everyone and anyone around you, fixated on the woman before you. She smiles when you’re close enough, beckons you a little closer.

… Then everything changes. Without warning, the woman leaps for you, her face contorting into something hideous, mouth opening to scream to reveal rows upon rows of tiny, needle-like teeth. She collides with you, and the force (paired with the slippery ice below you) is enough to send you off your feet. As you fall back, the ice cracks beneath you with an almighty sound, plunging you into the frigid depths below.

The woman fights to put you beneath the water’s surface, those needle-like teeth bared like some ferocious beast. She can be fought off easily enough, but she might just drown you before you’re able to. If you’re lucky, someone might be able to help pull you out. Tools or weapons made of iron or silver are especially harmful to her.

Once you’re pulled from the water, getting somewhere warm will be the utmost priority — otherwise the cold will kill you quicker than the woman would. The woman, you’ll find, will have vanished, and the ice where you’d fallen will have restored itself, as if it had never been broken at all.

FAQs

ARRIVAL: METHUSELAH'S FEAST

1. 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.

2. 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.

3. 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.

4. If asked how he knew that the Newcomers were arriving, he concedes that although it is a strange thing to know, it is much like how one knows a storm is coming.

HOPE NOBODY NEEDS THIS ANYMORE

1. Characters are welcome to take up residency in any of the homes of Milton. Methuselah will strongly advise characters to leave a huge, dilapidated house — known as Milton House — well alone, due to extensive fire damage.

2. More information about Milton can be found here.

THE SIREN OF MILTON BASIN

1. Characters with hearing impairments will not be susceptible to the Siren's song, or may only be somewhat susceptible depending, but may be entranced to a degree by looking at the Siren. However, this will be far easier to snap out of.

2. The Siren cannot be killed, only fought off. She will disappear for a length of time to recover before she attempts to lure her next victim.

Comments

[alef]

[ There is a terrible sound when he collides with the tree. Rei has stopped once more, but when he speaks, she turns around to face him again. Then, because he has asked her to, she waits.

And she watches. Now that her back is no longer turned to him, it's easier to see how he moves. Slower than most; clearly hurt. Whenever he steadies himself, it is only with one hand. She does not go to him - he told her to wait - but she does allow him to come close, if he can make it. The advantage to Rei's expressionless demeanor is that she's also quite patient. ]

Can you walk?

[ Rei asks the question only because she does not know the answer. She is not certain what to do in this situation, generally, but it seems neither is he. ]

[missionem]

[ Her voice is so human when she speaks. She couldn't have surprised him more with any devilment or strangeness to her speech.

It makes him doubt himself, as so many things do. Is he certain she is what he imagined she is? Can he act as though he is certain? He blinks hard at her in the dark, and has no answers for himself. ]

I can.

[ To prove it, he does. A shaky, miserable step, then another, his feet so much senseless meat somewhere below his knees. ]

Not...quickly. But I can.

[ But if she is a girl, lost in the woods as he is, what kind of girl is she? She shows no fear of a broken stranger stumbling his way toward her in the dark - no compassion, either, but he doesn't expect it. ]

Where are you...where are we going?

[alef]

[ If he says he can, then Rei believes it. Who is she to question him? (Who is she?) And he's proven it, too, for good measure. Rei drops her gaze, watching his feet shuffle through the snow, and imitates his pace, if not his gait.

Rei does not speak again until the man asks his question. It's a little bit of a silly one, she thinks, but she doesn't say that out loud. Can't he see the smoke? Doesn't he know that means fire, and fire is what humans build? Perhaps no one has told him this, or perhaps he can't see. Rei shouldn't judge. (Except she does, a little bit.) Fortunately, her expression does not change.

She looks out at the distance. ]

Milton. Population nine-hundred and forty-seven.

[ A beat. ]

There are clothes. And food.

[ It's where Rei found her jacket, her mittens, and her boots. He'll likely need the same, but in his size. ]

[missionem]

[ A girl after all, then, and him an addled idiot.

Thomas might have had an easier time with an apparition. It's been some time since he travelled in circles where girl-children circulate in any great number. This one might be an oddity, with her still little face and fearless stare, but there are rules for the category he ought to recall to avoid the outrage of her guardians when she tells them all about the strange man she met in the woods. ]

Is that where your parents live?

[ He attempts an unthreatening tone, which, by way of being so forced, is grotesque. He makes a face at the ring of it in his own ears. ]

[alef]

No.

[ Rei doesn't mind the voice, but that's her least favorite kind of question. The kind that makes her feel empty, and when she's empty, what point is there to talking? The response she did give is clipped, and she hopes that means he won't ask anything like that again. She picks up the pace a little, so that she's walking slightly in front of him, instead of side-by-side. ]

[missionem]

[ Thomas knows a shut door when he hears one. Fair enough. He doesn't care to speak of his parents much either. ]

Who does live there, then?

[ Presumably her, unless she lives somewhere in the woods themselves. He can imagine that, given how unsocialized she is. Most people would at least think to feign interest in asking a question or two back, although he can't say he doesn't appreciate her neglect in that respect. ]

[alef]

[ A better question. Rei slows down, so that the man can catch up. ]

The old man. Methuselah.

[ There's no warmth to her voice, but the chill is gone, and her gaze has softened a little. Whoever Methuselah is, he must be someone Rei likes.

As the two of them finally begin to cover some ground, the first of a few rusted signs appears, reading: MILTON, POP. 947. Just as Rei had recited. ]

[missionem]

Old Methuselah, eh?

[ Not an unheard of name, but it does twist his mouth in a tight, brief curve. The girl slowing herself seems an encouraging sign. ]

And he's the one with food and clothes, I take it?

[ Perhaps a church father or some other prominent local, entrusted with the care of this peculiar girl. That's promising.

Of course, the likelihood of survival is nil. He was dying before he woke here, and he's surely still dying now. But if he can't die on the grass, at least he might be able to die in a bed. ]

So he sends you out looking for vagrants in the dark, is that it?

[alef]

[ Rei nods. ]

Yes.

[ As in, he's Old Methuselah, and he's the one with the food and the clothes. And the warm room, but the man didn't ask about that part. That's all right. They'll return to town soon, and then Rei can be in that warmth again.

The next question is a bit harder to answer. Methuselah didn't send her out here - if anything, he'd be horrified to know that she went back out into the cold. But what the man is really asking, Rei thinks, is why she was out here to find him in the first place. A fair question, but a difficult one, too.

She's quiet for a long time. Long enough that the man might think she didn't hear him, or she's choosing not to answer. ]

No.

[ More silence. ]

I'm not a pilot anymore.

[missionem]

[ With a sense of irony, Thomas reflects on the fact that in almost any other situation he'd appreciate the girl's terseness and long silences. It usually suits him quite well to keep talking to the minimum required.

But then, what good would more details about the town do him? If he's irritated at the paucity of explanation she offers, that's only the lingering twitches of faculties no longer of any use to him.

He can let that go, now. These moments are the last. He can live in them, and forget the future with the past. ]

You were a pilot?

[ He hasn't the faintest idea what she means. A girl balloonist? The figurehead of some ship full of quiet, terse people? Whatever the case, he asks the question softly, with real interest that surprises him. ]

[alef]

[ Another question that Rei thinks is stupid, at first. That's what she said. But this man clearly isn't doing so well, and sometimes, people have secret questions they hide under ordinary ones.

Rei has never been sure what to with those. She doesn't want to disappoint. It's so much easier to say nothing at all. But out here, in this cold, desolate world, it feels a little easier to try. If the man doesn't like what she has to say, she can always outrun him, and Methuselah will welcome her back into the warm place. ]

Yes. I piloted Evangelion Unit 00. [ Rei doubts this man knows what that means, so she continues. ] Humanity's defense against the Angels. A prototype.

I died. [ She's been replaced. ] There is another pilot, now.

cw: splinters under nails

[missionem]

[ Thomas hits another tree, this time meaning to. He needs something to lean against as his chest spasms and his throat jerks with a hideous, croaking, half-mad laugh. He stares at the girl like she's some dark wonder, which she might be after all, and he's twice the fool he thought. ]

Defender against angels. [ He wheezes, fingernails scraping the bark, splinters pricking at their soft underbelly. ] We could have done with that long ago, couldn't we? Disperse the angelic host and save us all the trouble of-

[ He makes a noise worse than the laughter and twists to drive his forehead against the tree, the spasm overtaking the rest of him. He writhes without dignity, flopping like a landed fish until the spell of agony subsides to mere pain. ]

I'm sorry that you died. [ He breathes, wrung out, quivering. ] How God hungers for children.

cw: self-harm, body horror

[alef]

[ Rei stops, and does not intervene as the man hurts himself. If she tells him to stop, Rei is certain he will turn his anger on her, as Unit 02's pilot did.

She hates to watch this. It makes her feel strange. Even though her veins are no longer bulging, she runs a hand over her arm, half-holding herself. She feels a little better.

There's so much about this scene Rei does not understand, but the most confusing part to her is the last thing he says. I'm sorry that you died. ]

Why?

[ He doesn't know her. And even if he did, he would know that the loss of her life is no loss at all, not when there are so many spare parts ready to take her place. ]

cw: death of children

[missionem]

[ Thomas turns his face towards her, skin dragging against the bark. He takes her in, this slip of a thing, her arm tucked around herself like a paltry shield.

Why, indeed. Why should he be sorry for a thing he had nothing to do with? Why be sorry for some child of no account to him, when the world is full of dead children, choked to the rafters with their fragile bones? What difference does his being sorry make to any of them? ]

...you waited for me. [ He forces himself upright, his left arm crossing his body in unconscious mirror of hers. ] When I asked. Why did you do that?

[alef]

[ Rei watches the man mirror her pose, and it is that, more than any words or blood, that stops Rei from distrusting him. She does that too - the watching people, and the copying. Sometimes, it feels like she's the only one.

Rei already answered that question, but this time, she doesn't mind answering it again. ]

Being a pilot was my bond to humanity. [ Now that she is no longer a pilot, there is nothing left. But if she can save one person, then there is something.

That's almost it. But not quite. Rei finally drops her gaze. ]

...I do not want to be alone. [ A terrible thing, a thing that hurts to say. But he asked. ]

[missionem]

[ Thomas' mouth twitches, a spark of dire sympathy flaring in his eyes. ]

Neither do I.

[ The green. The great and impossible expanse of it, each thing in communion with each other thing. The tangle of fingers like the tangle of roots, blood pulsing alike in two bodies.

It was remembering a thing he had forgotten before he was born. To be is be a part of, not a whole. How lonely it is to be deceived otherwise. ]

That's why. [ He coaxes another step out of himself, then the next. ] For all the good it does you.

[alef]

[ Is he like her? Is Rei searching for something that is not there? If she goes down this road, there will be nothing but question after question, and she will drown under the weight of them.

Easier to go backwards. Rei remembers what it is like to be hurt, bandaged up, barely able to move. That kind of pain is concrete, easier to understand, and easier to remedy.

She falls into step beside him once more, this time on the side he does not favor. She offers her arm. ]

[missionem]

[ If he had any common decency, he'd be ashamed of himself for accepting her arm. Since he gave up common decency some years ago, however, he's merely grateful, a dumb, base gratitude like the ox at the lifting of his yoke. ]

Thank you.

[ He's reminded, absurdly, of taking his sister's arm on the way to a village fair. She'd been old enough to wish to be treated as a lady, young enough to prickle at any insinuation she harboured such a girlish desire. He'd always sought to give her anything she wanted before she had to stoop to asking for it.

This girl doesn't remind him of Jennifer, except for that. He's still glad of the memory. ]

My name is Thomas. What's yours?

[alef]

[ Thank you. Words of gratitude. He is grateful. Is that why he gives out his name like that, so freely? Rei has only ever used those words once, to one person, and she has never learned how to respond to them. But she can return the name. ]

Rei.

[ Just the one name, no family name. She never understood why Commander Ikari gave her two names when he did not give her a family.

If Thomas expected her to say anything more than that, he definitely hasn't learned anything from this conversation. Rei lapses back into a comfortable silence, and focuses instead on not jostling Thomas too much. Maybe that's what inspires to speak again, a few minutes later. ]

The stew is good. You can eat it with one hand, and there are potatoes in it.

[missionem]

[ Rei. The brevity suits her.

Thomas joins her in quiet readily enough, although he can't manage silence. Tiny grunts of effort keep slipping loose, jarred out of him every other step even with her assistance. She's tolerated the rest of him well enough, so he imagines she'll tolerate that. ]

I am fond...of potatoes in stew.

[ The words are laboured, but there's no helping that either. Despite everything, imagining a warm, rich stew studded with soft, steaming chunks of potato does drag some last dregs of longing out of him.

Some martyr he makes, dwelling on such base matters. Good. He'd hate to live up to expectations this late. ]

What else is in the stew? If you know.

[alef]

[ Rei does not mind the little noises, nor his slow speech. She's not sure if she likes it, either, but there is something to be said for the fact that he gives her time to speak. It's a little easier around him than it is around others.

The potatoes are good. Another similarity. She considers the question, which is a nice one, because it allows her to think about the stew, and about the warm place. ]

Carrots. Onions. Celery.

[ And meat, too, but Rei didn't eat that part, so she's not qualified to speak about it. Hopefully those are vegetables Thomas likes, and he eats them, because he seems to need them badly. ]

[missionem]

[ If he thinks very hard, he can add the vegetables to his illusory mental stew. The sweet rounds of the carrots, the tang of stewed onions, the crunch of celery. A slight smile creases his face as he pushes back the edges of darkness creeping up on his consciousness. ]

Your old man knows what he's about.

[ As far as he's concerned at this point, this Methuselah belongs to Rei and not the other way round. It inclines him to prepare to be civil if he manages to make it that far. ]

Is there bread to dip in it?

[alef]

[ Her old man? Thomas must be confused. Nothing belongs to Rei. She turns her head so she can look directly at him, and make sure he didn't just hit his head against a tree or something.

(There is a pair of glasses in her pocket. Their weight is heavy.)

The question, at least, is a reasonable one, and it brings her back to the stew. ]

The bread is for dipping? [ That's a new one. There was bread, but Rei ate it separately, with butter. ]

[missionem]

[ Chances are it's the cudgel blow to the head more than any of the trees he collided with giving Thomas trouble, but that was either ages or hours ago. He attempts a wry smile when she looks at him, which does little to be reassuring about his connection to reality. ]

It can be, depending on the bread. A good, crusty loaf, to tear apart and dunk, then mop up the bottom of the bowl...

[ Let it not be said that Thomas was completely ungenerous. Educating this peculiar girl on the joys of mingling bread and stew might not be the last act of kindness he intended, but there it is all the same.

He wheezes a little harder at that, throat fluttering. Ahead of them, he's beginning to make out what he thinks could be the geometric shapes of buildings in the dark, the tiny lights of distant fires. He doesn't say anything. If he's seeing things, he'd prefer to keep seeing them. ]

You should try it.

[alef]

[ Rei turns her gaze back towards the horizon, giving Thomas' description serious consideration. Most of the time, when humans say things, it's utterly useless, but this is good information. When Thomas suggests she tries it for herself, Rei nods, no longer responding yes or no like a soldier receiving an order. She'll try it because she wants to.

As they come a little closer, they pass another sign pointing in the direction of the town. Rei can make out the buildings, and one - Methuselah's schoolhouse - has a lantern on.

Rei stands up a little straighter and gets a little closer, allowing Thomas to put a little more of his weight on her, if he chooses. They've almost made it. ]