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

la'an noonien-singh | star trek: strange new worlds

[rescapee]

i. arrival

[ Snow. Why is there so much snow? She can feel it against her cheek, crunching dully as she shifts her weight, automatically moving her hands beneath her to push her body upright. The cold air bites at her skin, immediately slipping under her 21st-century clothing that had barely withstood the chill of Toronto. This is something else entirely, and as she looks at the trees surrounding her, she begins to realize how true that is on many other levels. 

You are the Interloper. You are not part of nature’s design. The words filter up through a hazy recollection of darkness, sending a spike of fear up her spine. Surely it must have been a dream, an effect of some sort of transporter malfunction combined with an old memory of the insults lobbed at her as a child. Augment. Monster. She'd been accused of being something unnatural her entire life, so surely this must be some sort of repressed trauma resurfacing at an inopportune moment. Perhaps one of the other landing party is also experiencing— 

No. There is no landing party. She looks down at her hands, at the bulky silver wristwatch missing its glass, and then her eyes catch on the small device nestled in the snow at her feet. The little light no longer glows either red or green, and as she picks it up, there's no response to her attempts at activation. Panic swells within her and she struggles to tamp it back down. This isn't the Enterprise and something has gone very, very wrong. Shoving the device into the same pocket where she can feel the comforting weight of her Starfleet badge, she spares a moment to take full stock of her surroundings and the new set of problems she's been dealt. 

Twenty seconds after the gravity of her situation has set in, La'an starts walking. She has no communicator or tricorder, and with years of survival and security training behind her, she fully understands how quickly hypothermia will set in if she doesn't keep moving. So she picks a direction and moves, the snow creaking beneath her boots as the distant howl of predators drifts to her on the wind. ]

ii. methuselah's feast

[ Finding the little town feels too easy, and she realizes why as she enters and finds her way to that central building with others who appear as equally lost. There is something wrong with her being there, yes, but more than that, there is something wrong for all of them. The empty town, the many people who have suddenly found their way here, the old man who cannot answer their questions to anything resembling satisfaction. La'an isn't sure she can trust him, but since there's no telling when or where she might be, she can't even be certain if the man would understand the possible implications of whatever atmospheric phenomena the Flare might be. 

There are far too many uncertainties for her liking, but as she slowly begins to thaw from the bitter cold outside, she has to be grateful for the warm shelter and the food. She loads a plate with potatoes, meat, and vegetables, and takes a seat as far from the fire as she can get while still benefiting from its warmth and the ability to listen in on snippets of conversation. If there is anyone here with answers, she'll find them even as she keeps her own secrets. ]

iii. hope nobody needs this anymore

[ Explore the town is a direction La'an takes quite seriously. It doesn't matter that this isn't the Enterprise and she has no official role here — her duties as Chief of Security are ingrained in her very being and she could no sooner shirk them than stop breathing. So explore she does, starting with the residential buildings. One by one, she moves through those that still remain unoccupied, noting the ones that have now been claimed by others trapped here. It strikes her as particularly strange that so many of the buildings are empty while others were clearly vacated in a hurry. Even stranger is the state of all the electronics, the cracks and damages speaking of something happening more than a simple lack of electricity. And then there are the journals. 

2014. The date sits like a weight on her chest, threatening to crush her with all it means. But an emotional breakdown isn't something she can afford right now, so as with the trauma she'd endured just prior to her arrival, she shoves it all back down within her and keeps moving forward. It's only when she finds the first body that she stops, understanding now that she'll need a more scientific method to her approach of solving this problem. The disarray of the abandoned home provides her with a small notebook to begin recording her findings, and anyone entering the building will find her crouched next to the corpse still sprawled facedown on the floor with a gun in its hand, making careful notes of her observations. Or perhaps they might find her at another body outside in the snow, or sat at a table in one of the homes with a journal spread in front of her. 

If there are answers here, she's going to find them. ]

iv. wildcard

( Choose your own adventure! La'an will be doing frequent security checks around town, walking the perimeter to be sure none of the predators she heard in the forest are coming closer. She'll also be checking out the stores and other public buildings for more clues as to what the hell is going on.

For reference, La'an is being pulled from the end of episode 2x03 and is fresh off a time-travel adventure and so will not be in typical Star Trek gear. Until she's certain she won't royally fuck up the timeline, she'll be keeping her status as From The Future a secret. For any SNW fans, I can avoid major s2 spoilers as needed. My default format is brackets but happy to switch to prose if that's preferred. I can be reached via PM for plotting! )

hope nobody needs this anymore

[aetherialshackles]

[Erichthonios has been busy gathering... anything he can, truly, even items that he doesn't personally need. Trying to make a small inventory for the new 'residents' and have things ready for whoever may need them is his priority at the moment, mostly because he needs something to do in order to feel at least a bit useful and stepping in the wilderness is not an option for the man.

He does approach the woman while she's checking the corpse. He's carrying a few coats and a pair of boots, now mostly looking for first aid kits and other good supplies and... he just stops there, tilting his head and wondering what the woman is looking for. Most of the corpses he checked so far were frozen and he barely touched them, especially the kids, but...]

Huh... good day? [He offers a small smile, even if there's no real joy behind it.] Found anything interesting, there?

[rescapee]

[ Listening to the sounds of the other person moving through the house, she discerns from the sound of footsteps and items shuffling that they aren't an immediate threat. Probably they're someone trapped here as well, also following the suggestion to explore the town. Her theory is proven correct when he appears carrying a load of items in his arms, which she studies for a moment before turning her attention back to the body. ]

No, which is more concerning.

[ She answers flatly, her British accent rounding vowels but not softening a single syllable. Leaning down closer, her hand wraps around one of the corpse's, lifting it as much as the stiff limb will allow and focusing on the fingernails. Nothing. She returns it to rest on the floor with a quiet sigh. ]

[aetherialshackles]

[Oh, he's basically harmless. His only combat related skill, back in his world, was using aetherial chains to imprison his enemies... Erich has a long way to go before being even remotely self sufficient in such a remote location. He's exploring the town and gathering, with his little base at the border of Milton near the southern entrance. That's where he plans to build a little- he doesn't know. he just wants to make sure that newcomers have somewhere to get their starting gear, at least.]

Mhm...

[While he may not touch bodies, he had his fair share of that kind of looting and snooping before finding himself in that frozen wasteland, he can look at them. And he does follow her gaze to the fingernails before slicking his tongue and sighing.]

No signs of evident struggle. I think only a few of the bodies I inspected had any real wound on them, unless that was hidden by their position. Some also had those... gun things, but there was only so much frozen blood so I assume they weren't the cause of death for most of the victims...

iii

[solitarysoul]

[A boy in army coveralls, an oversized coat and a rifle awkwardly slung over his back comes into the building to find La'an looking over the body. He doesn't see the gun from this angle, so he asks]

Another frozen one? Or does it have an actual cause of death?

[He talks casually, not at all bothered by the dead bodies strewn about.]

[rescapee]

[ Looking up at the unfamiliar footsteps, La'an takes in the military-style clothing, ill-fitting coat, and concerning weapon on the boy's back. A frown creases her brow and she has to resist her immediate instinct to ask whether he actually knows how to use the rifle; his tone suggests this isn't his first encounter with the dead, so he might very well have more experience than most his age. ]

There's nothing I can tell from a visual inspection, but the gun suggests this man was expecting to have to use it. [ Her British accent tries and fails to soften her serious tone. ]

[solitarysoul]

[Levi had entirely too much experience for someone his age, sadly]

A gun?

[Hm...]

Is it loaded? Or did they use the last round?

[He moves closer to get a better look at the body and said gun. If the gore effects him he doesn't show it in the slightest. He could be looking over a flowerbed for all he shows it.
Levi had seen too much death, but the fact that this guy looked normal was at least a slight comfort.]

ii. methuselah's feast

[halo]

[She finds herself tracking through the cold. After time compression, stranger things keep happening. Now she isn't sure if she was ever back in Balamb after defeating the angry cow named Ultemicia.

She wraps her arms around herself, frozen to the bone. She needs a coat, or at least a warmer shirt, her sweater duster isn't doing her any favors. She walks until she sees a light in the distance, illuminating a window.

Through the window's glass she can see dancing lights and shadows. She makes haste, getting there in the next six minutes. She counts to keep her mind off the cold. She knocks on the door and is greeted by the old man, she smiles at them and they have a quick conversation.

She feels not only famished, but the warmth of the fire and the encroaching cabin make her feet at home. She gathers some potatoes and vegetables, wary of the meat, she forgoes it in favor of going a little bit vegetarian. She also grabs a cup of water and takes a seat.

She finds herself near a woman who has eyes like her own. The familiarity reminds her of being around her mother, even if this woman seems to be the same age as Rinoa.] Heya. Are you a newcomer like me?

[rescapee]

[ It's a testament to just how much La'an is trying to blend in that she's not projecting her usual 'don't bother me' energy. Really, it was inevitable that someone would sit nearby and try to strike up a conversation, but after the day she's had, it's not exactly something she's prepared for.

She's quiet for a moment, watching the other woman with critical eyes before she answers in a serious tone, her British accent doing little to soften her words. ] I arrived earlier this evening.

[ Arrived, as if she'd had a choice in the matter. As if she'd had any sort of choice over the course of her life for the past three days. She stabs a limp green bean with slightly more force than necessary, the only outward sign of her frustration. ]

[halo]

[Rinoa isn't used to being in unfamiliar surroundings, or around unfamiliar people but she's able to get used to it pretty quickly. She knows the other woman is giving her a very scrutinizing look but she can handle it. She smiles, cheery and warmly.] I came in a few moments ago. I'm a little shaken up. Your accent... where are you from?

[She finds it odd because she hadn't heard this particular accent before. She's heard Galbadian twangs, Deling draws and Dollet yippies, but never what she's hearing now.]

iii

[finefurryfella]

[ Scavenging - Roy supposes that's what he's doing, even if it sounds post-apocalyptic. It might as well feel like the end of the world where they are from the amount of dead bodies littered about.

Roy may have lived a privileged life due to the various stages of his football career, but he adapts well to the harsh conditions he's not used to. The way he sees it, he's got no choice but to survive - to just fucking get on with it. He's got family he needs to get back to, family who's probably worried sick about him, even if they're probably better off without him (not true, but Roy's got such low self-esteem these days, he should have seen a therapist years ago).

He's checking out another house to look for supplies, one he thinks is unoccupied because it's so quiet - except La'an is in there inspecting a dead body. Roy visibly jumps at the sight of her - someone alive rather than dead. ]

Fucking hell. [ Give him a moment to get his heartbeat back to normal. He looks over the journal in her hand and arches one of his thick eyebrows. ] Police or morbid curiosity?

[rescapee]

[ The quiet of the house allows La'an to hear the stranger long before she sees him, which is part of why she herself is so silent as she works. Much can be discerned of a person's intentions by how they act when they think no one is around, and she's still miles away from trusting anyone in this place. But his reaction to seeing her is enough to at least ease a bit of her tension — it's a difficult response to fake and still appear natural.

She only looks over at the man when he directs a question her way, her pen strokes pausing long enough to give him a good once-over before she turns her attention back to the body on the floor. ]

Is it morbid when discovering what happened to them might help determine what is happening to us? [ Her slightly lilting British accent does little to soften her serious tone. ]

[finefurryfella]

[ Roy does feel somewhat relieved hearing a British accent, though the gravity of her words is enough to make him feel on edge again. ]

You think this - [ he gestures at the dead body ] - is what's gonna happen to us? F—

[ He almost swears again but this time makes a conscious effort to avoid it in case she's the type to frown upon it. He didn't get a dirty look from her the first time but you never knew with strangers that weren't used to his bad habits. ]

—fffuuuudge. [ He clears his throat awkwardly. He needs to keep on moving to keep his mind off the doomed situation they're in. ] Do you mind if I carry on looking around or am I disturbing you?

[rescapee]

[ The only thing La'an noted upon his first use of swearing is that he's definitely not Starfleet. Which strikes her as an odd observation when he's obviously not, but given the circumstances, she's not surprised is connecting things in odd ways. Dr. Sanchez probably would have explained it as a result of trauma, but given he's not here to head shrink her, she's going to ignore it like all the other signs.

The second thing she notes about the stranger is that he's surprisingly considerate to ask such a question. He's rattled by their situation, yet he's worried about disturbing her? It shapes her estimation of him, and as she gives him another good look, she decides he might be of use in her efforts. ]

No, go ahead. I haven't been upstairs yet, so if you find anything unusual, give a shout? [ She looks back down at her notebook, pauses, then adds: ] And as to your question before, I'm not law enforcement, but I do work in security.

[finefurryfella]

[ Roy can be surprisingly considerate when he wants to be, and he'd like to think he's learned a lot about giving people space after crowding his ex-girlfriend too much when they were dating. Not that he's dating this woman, of course, but still, it probably can't hurt to practice the art of not being a clingy loser on strangers. ]

More unusual than a dead body? [ Roy eyes the staircase before looking back at her when she clarifies what she does for a living, somewhat pleased he's in the company of someone who sounds a lot more competent than he is at whatever they're dealing with. ]

Good to know. [ It's a vague answer from her but still reassuring. ] Guess that makes you more qualified to take a dead guy's gun than an assistant football coach.

[ Which is what he does for a living, hardly useful to the current situation, or so he thinks. He starts climbing the stairs - ]

Shout if he, you know, becomes a zombie. [ He's half-joking, half-serious. Who knows what could happen next? ]

[rescapee]

[ He might be surprised at what she considers unusual, given their likely vastly different frames of reference. If he's from pre-first contact, then he'd probably consider giant alien lizards to be unusual, where they're just another nightmare come to life for her. Though, she has to admit, most people in Starfleet would probably also find her experience with the Gorn unusual, but that's beside the point.

An assistant football coach. With the accent, she makes a guess at which Earth sport he's referring to, her mind pulling up a vague memory of what a match looks like while recalling absolutely none of the rules of play. If he'd said he taught a martial art, she'd easily be able to relate with her own training, but team sports were never something that interested her.

Her eyes follow him as he starts up the stairs before his words prompt her to turn a slightly suspicious eye to the corpse again. It's not the first she's encountered here, but that doesn't mean its status as solidly dead couldn't yet shift to something not entirely. ]

He'd better not... [ She mutters the words to herself; the stranger might still be able to hear them given the silence of the house. If Spock were here, he'd be giving a spiel about worrying about zombies being highly illogical. She really wishes he was here to annoy her with his science and logic. ]

[finefurryfella]

[ Roy does hear her mutter and snorts under his breath. He lets out a mutter of his own: ] Fucking stairs...

[ His career-ending knee injury can make climbing stairs pretty painful on a regular day, but the fact that he's been travelling on foot a lot more than he normally would by exploring the town (he misses his G-Wagon already) as well as the cold temperature affecting his joints makes the pain in his knee even worse. He should probably sit down and rest, but Roy's never really done what's good for him, so he quietly suffers and carries on.

He inspects the bedroom first, looking for any clothes that might fit him. Sadly the dead guy downstairs is smaller than Roy so everything is too tight, though he does find a wooly scarf. Since it's red (anything that isn't black offends Roy), he decides to pick it up anyway and offer it to Security Woman (her name until he finds out her actual one). He finds a journal too and feels like an invasive bastard at first for glancing at it, but some of the later entries are interesting and mention changes in the town, and maybe Security Woman would find it useful, so he picks it up too.

The next stop is the bathroom, where he searches the cabinet above the sink for anything that might make the pain in his knee go the fuck away. He finds what looks to be painkillers, swallows down a couple before pocketing the rest, then makes his way back downstairs. He sounds noticeably slower coming down. ]

Your brain's still intact, then? [ He makes a zombie joke, dropping the scarf and journal on the table beside her. ] Here. I got what I needed.

[ Finally deciding he needs to rest his knee, he heads for the couch nearby and plants himself down on it horizontally, lying on his back with a sigh. The reality is, if it were a zombie apocalypse, he'd be dead first, unable to outrun any, so he hopes he's not jinxed himself. ]

[rescapee]

[ His steps are noticeably different as he descends the stairs, a change that she pinpoints as either exhaustion or injury, though she rules out the former after a moment since he likely would have struggled equally or more going up than coming down if that were the case. She keeps her focus on the gun she's examining, checking the state of it and counting the remaining rounds, but she glances up when he places something on the table. Another journal and...

A red scarf. It's almost exactly the color of her Operations uniform, which sends of pang of homesickness through her. She shouldn't be here, the device should have taken her home to her time, to the Enterprise— But there's no use in thinking of should haves. She's here now and all she can do is try to solve the problem in front of her.

Reaching back behind her, she tucks the gun into her waistband, hiding it beneath her coat and other layers as she watches him settle onto the couch, something in the way he moves practically confirming her suspicion. Her hand reaches for the items he's presented to her, intending to pick up the journal but instead taking hold of the scarf. Her off-duty attire is usually all-black, but part of her longs for even the slightest tie to the home she's desperate to return to. ]

Thank you. [ The words are soft, more than they should be for something so simple, and she clears her throat quietly before continuing in a more normal voice. There's no judgment in the question she asks. ] Your injury, is it recent?

wildcard/perimeter sweep

[thephix]

[This would typically be the sort of task that Max would delegate to someone lower on the food chain, but she doesn't have the control here that she would at home, and can't trust these people like she can trust her own, so she'll have to do the boring work herself.

Having Maurice for company as she skirts the edge of town helps; he lopes along beside her, unbothered by the snow and nose to the ground. He isn't a sniffer dog, but Max knows he'll react if he smells anything strange, especially another predator, and she can investigate accordingly.

When she spots another figure ahead, she pauses and clicks her tongue for Maurice to do the same. He puts himself between her and the new person, but his body language isn't threatening, and Max is sure to keep her own posture relaxed as she calls out:]

Hello? Are you from the town?

[The gun is a comforting weight in its holster, even if she doesn't reach for it yet.]

[rescapee]

[ Patrolling the perimeter of the town feels natural to La'an. Bundled up against the cold with a red scarf standing out against all the black, she does her best to ignore the elements while focusing on the familiar. Walking the hallways of the Enterprise had been one of her many duties, checking in at different locations to ensure everything was working smoothly and there were no issues in need of her attention. She may not have a team to check in with here, but she still has a self-appointed mission to keep these people safe for as long as they're stuck here, and that's not something she'd going to shirk.

The sound of another person behind her reaches La'an just before the voice, that clicking sound making her tense before her brain registers it as human. Still, there's no shaking the sudden rush of fear through her as she turns, every muscle in her tensing for a fight that's not coming.

Forcing herself to take a slow, calming breath, her hands stay stuffed in the pockets of her jacket as she turns to look back, surprised to see the large dog beside the stranger. It takes a moment, but she tries to match the other woman's unthreatening stance despite the unwelcome surge of adrenaline. ]

Only recently, if that's what you mean. [ Her tone is serious, made even more so by the properly rounded sounds of her British accent, but there's also something unsettled in her voice and expression. ]

[thephix]

It is, yes.

[Reading people is a skill she learned before she could talk, it was a necessary element of survival, to pick out someone's mood from a distance and avoid them if possible. So she notes the discomfort and weighs up her options; she doesn't want to make enemies here and her usual operating mode involves being gentler with women.

Max crouches down beside Maurice, seemingly just to ruffle the fur around his neck, but it serves the purpose of making her the more vulnerable person in this situation. If La'an had a weapon, it would be very, very easy to hurt Max right now. This is a risk, and those are sometimes necessary if she wants people to trust her.]

My name's Max, and this is Maurice. We thought it would be best to check the boundaries of town.

['We' because clearly Maurice had valuable input in this situation and isn't just excited to explore.]

[rescapee]

[ Reading people is a skill they share. It's plain as day that this Max either isn't a threat or is purposefully trying not to seem like one — it's difficult to say at this point. Whichever it is, it does the trick of letting La'an relax a little more, though trust isn't a word she would use yet. Trust is hard-won for the woman who has spent her life struggling just to survive in a galaxy conditioned to hate her for her ancestry. ]

I had the same thought. [ Slowly removing her hands from the coat's pockets, she crosses them instead, wanting her hands visible to convey she isn't holding a weapon. And then she takes a few steps closer, still keeping a good distance between them as they take stock of each other. ] I'm La'an. You two came here together?

[ That's a interesting piece of information. Are there others here who arrived with an animal? What might that say about their situation and how they have all ended up in this strange place? ]

[thephix]

[It does the trick, so she stays where she is, resting a hand on Maurice as she watches La'an approach. She's idly scratching her nails through his fur, the absent-minded sort of gesture of someone who's comfortable around the animal they're interacting with. Maurice doesn't seem bothered by La'an, either, taking his cues from Max about whether people are threats.

(Despite her — career, she does her best not to expose Maurice to danger.)]

La'an. [She repeats the name with a little nod of greeting, making sure she has the pronunciation right. They might be trapped in some icy hellscape, that's not reason to forget her manners.] Yes. From what I've observed so far we're the only two, but there are small groups of people who appear to know one another.

[She's been watching, of course.]

[rescapee]

[ Guessing that Max is likely from 20th century Earth like so many others here, she appreciates the care taken in pronouncing her name properly. Not that it's overly complicated, of course, that's reserved for the last name she isn't yet freely sharing, but the effort still means something. It shows a measure of respect for others similar to that ingrained in La'an through her Starfleet training and Federation upbringing. ]

I suppose they're lucky in a way to have someone they know with them. Though at the same time, I'm not sure I'd want anyone I care about to be trapped here as well.

[ Because from everything she's seen and heard, they do appear to be well and truly trapped. It's unsettling and frustrating, but dwelling on those emotions won't do anyone any good, so she focuses on what she can do while gathering as much information as she can to try to understand the how and why of their situation.

Moving closer again, she unwraps one arm and holds her hand down and slightly out toward Maurice. There are still a few feet between them, but she won't approach without permission. ] May I?

[thephix]

[That sentiment is one Max can agree with; she wouldn't admit to caring about anyone, as that's a quick way to get them killed, but if any of her people were here she'd hate knowing they were in danger, even if it would be somewhat reassuring.]

I feel similarly conflicted about Maurice's presence.

[Perhaps even more than she would about actual people, since she can't exactly explain to him why they're in this strange situation, she can't tell him that food will be scarce or that life will be dangerous moving forward.

Maurice is unconcerned with these issues, of course. His focus is on La'an's approach, his tail starting to wag as he looks at Max for permission.]

Of course. Maurice, say hi.

[He'll close the distance himself, now, happily trotting over with his tail wagging so he can sniff that offered hand and hopefully receive pets in return. It was a choice on Max's part to release him to say hi, this allows La'an greet him without needing to come any closer to her.]

He's well-suited to this climate, if nothing else. There's Šarplaninac and Malamute in his family tree.

[That may not mean anything, she realizes belatedly, but unfortunately she's A Dog Person and talking about Maurice is easier than dealing with being trapped in an icy hellscape.]