August 2025 Test Drive Meme

[singmod]

AUGUST 2025 TDM

PROMPT ONE — ARRIVAL: METHUSELAH'S FEAST: A new group of arrivals find themselves lost in the frozen wilds and vulnerable to the dangers of nature. With luck, they make it to the town of Milton, and to a friendly face offering food, warmth and shelter — and the current inhabitants, their fellow survivors.

PROMPT TWO — IN THE WOODS SOMEWHERE: Interlopers take a walk through the woods, and discover who they are as a person in this Quiet Apocalypse.

PROMPT THREE — BEACHED: A threat emergences from the sands of The Coast, threatening to drown Interlopers in a tarry grave.

ARRIVAL: METHUSELAH'S FEAST

WHEN: Mid-month.
WHERE: Milton, Milton Outskirts.
CONTENT WARNINGS: potential animal attacks, potential injuries, potential cold injuries/hyperthermia risk.

'You are the Interloper. You are not part of nature’s design.'

It’s the last thing you hear. A dark, deep voice. Impossibly ancient. You feel afraid. Maybe you’re dreaming, maybe you’re wide awake. You saw the lights, and then your world went dark. But you hear it in the blackness, you won’t forget those words.

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

You awaken. You are not where you were before. It’s different for everyone, there doesn’t seem to be much of a pattern in where you find yourself. You may open your eyes to find yourself in a cold, dim and dank cabin. The air is stale, dust hangs in the rays of weak sunlight that shine through the tiny windows. Someone lived here once, but they aren’t to be found. This place has been ransacked, abandoned long ago. It is quiet. The wood creaks around you.

Or perhaps you may awaken to find yourself shivering in the yawning maw of a cave, the freezing stone below you. Or maybe you’re unfortunate enough to sit up to find yourself lying in the snow, in the middle of the wilderness. Snow lies thick around you. It’s freezing out. You haven’t felt a cold like this before in your entire life. Cruel and biting. You have no idea where you are, and what’s worse — you are completely alone.

The sun is bright, enclosed in light fog. It is a strange kind of twilight.

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. Once more, you poor souls come.” he nods gravely. No, this is not the first time that this has happened. “I am Methuselah. I welcome you, Newcomer, although I’m sorry for how you’ve come to find yourself here. You are not the only one, the lights are changing things. Come. Mother Nature has not been kind to you, but there are plenty here to help.”

The room is dim, lit only by natural daylight through the windows. A roaring fire sits at one end of the huge hall. It crackles, bright and cheerful... and warm. Even as big as this place is, the room is pleasantly warm. You’ll also find basic cots set up down one side of the hall, and while it seems there's a few people already living here, there's enough space for those in need of them. There's places to rest for a moment and get your bearings, or just trying to recover from the cold. Down the other side are tables and chairs, and long tables laden with food, drinks and bottled water similar to one might find at a soup kitchen. Once again, Methuselah offers a feast, aided by some of the other Interlopers.

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

Methuselah will continue to busy himself, still; there is plenty to do. He will fetch blankets, tend to wounds, serve food and drinks — aided by a handful of others in the Hall. Your fellow survivors, but those who have been here for some time now. He does not have much time to talk. More and more people seem to be coming in from the cold. He will not stop to sit and rest until everyone is seen to, taking up a place by the fire to gaze silently into its flames.

He will encourage newcomers to get warm and eat, and when they are ready to — they can explore the town and find one of the many empty homes to call their own. He will not speak much, but gesture to your fellow survivors. They will have better answers than him.

IN THE WOODS SOMEWHERE

WHEN: The month of August.
WHERE: Everywhere…?
CONTENT WARNINGS: amnesia memory loss; skeletal remains of animals and humans; themes of honesty; themes of deep/thoughtful conversations/self-realisation; mention of eye-injury/body horror.

You do not remember falling asleep. You open your eyes to find yourself lying in the snowy undergrowth of a burned-out wood. The scent of charred trees hangs in the air, a little petrichor. The world is cold and empty and dead. The sky above you is a pale lavender-grey, a strange half-light gloom and a mist drifts around you. The stillness is not peaceful. Instead it feels like a sense of loss.

You do not remember your name. You do not know who you are.

There are only two things you do know: this is the ending of all things, and you must find out who you are.

When you look down, there are shapes in the snow and dead undergrowth. You reach for them, only to find the things you reach for— bones. Animal. Human. Scattered, half-bleached by the elements. You may be filled with horror, loud and jarring. You might be filled with sorrow. You might be filled with indignant and defiant rage. You might even be filled with something muted and quieter, something like resignation. Because, after all: this is the ending of all things.

You don’t recognise this place, nor do you know where you’re going but you still move forwards — picking any direction and hoping for the best. You trudge through the snow, looking for… answers. Even if you don’t know what those answers will be.

You find another, equally lost as you. Someone else who shares the same situation: not knowing they are and only knowing the same two things as you do. You walk for a while, trying to work it all out. But the woods are endless, and no matter which direction you head in, the burned and blackened trees never seem to thin.

Out of nowhere, a woman’s voice drifts through the trees: What kind of survivor are you?

The question settles on the air. You look at your companion, speechless for a moment. But if you take a little while, the words will come. The truth of yourself: what kind of survivor are you? And you’ll talk with your companion, talking about yourselves like it’s so new to you. You speak honestly. There are no lies here. You begin to remember a little more. A memory, an event, an instance. What kind of survivor you are. You will get your first answer.

Soon enough, another question will come: When you lost everything you knew and loved, how did you keep breathing?

Once again, the words will come. Between yourselves, you will answer and find the answer about yourself — speaking the words as if you are breathing life into your very existence. And more questions will come, giving you and your companion plenty to talk about.

The third question: Do you survive for yourself alone, revelling in the solitude? Or do you hunger for a connection, seeking out others?

The fourth: Do you settle into the silence, and embrace it? Or do you crawl into it whimpering and it crushes you?

The final question: Who are you and how will you face this Quiet Apocalypse?

You remember who you are now, don’t you? Your name. What kind of person you are, what shapes and guides you.

A woman stands before you in the woods. She is dressed in furs. She is gaunt, exhausted — her left side of her face is black and withered, her eye absent from the socket. Her other eye is blue and sad. She looks proud, and she smiles. This is Enola, the First Interloper.

“I see you.” she says softly.

With the blink of an eye, you are no longer in the woods but wherever you last remember being. Your companion is no longer with you, but you’ll find them again soon enough.

BEACHED

WHEN: The month of August
WHERE: Beaches/shorelines of The Coast, Silverpoint.
CONTENT WARNINGS:

The shorelines of the Northern Territories’ Coastal Region have been a boon to those who live there, thanks to the many opportunities for beachcombing and the occasional crates of random goods that will wash up on the shore from long-forgotten ships, along with regular fishing opportunities. However, in the month of August, there's a strange kind of emptiness to the beaches that even keeps some of the locals away. Interlopers who speak with Molly and Jace will be told that something about the beach creeps them out.

Jace in particular will mention that he has seen strange footprints in the sands made of tar. While he’ll point out where he’s seen them from a distance, he doesn't recommend Interlopers going to check it out. It’s bad vibes, and generally when that sort of thing goes down it’s best to stay away.

But he can't exactly stop anyone who wants to go see what the fuss is about.

Interlopers who go to explore the beaches will feel overcome with the strange sensation of hollowness; like something has clawed away at you from the inside. Some may describe it as a sense of sorrow or grief. Others might describe it as a strange kind of inner-disconnection. Some may describe it as a kind of stillness, the kind that comes after death, or standing in an empty room after someone has just left it.

The feeling is small at first but the longer an Interloper spends time on the beach, the bigger that feeling grows.

Interlopers who followed the footprints of tar in the sand after an extended period of time on the beach will notice that the footprints will actually be actively moving. You will see them being made in real time. Soon enough, the footprints will start to turn and walk towards the Interloper. They never hurry, but make a beeline at a steady pace — easy enough to outrun, but will catch the Interloper if they’re not careful enough. If the footprints catch up to them, they'll soon find out just exactly what is lurking within the sands.

Figures burst forth from the tar, writhing and scrambling towards you. A mass of several of them, a mob. The beings look human, but are twisted and distorted, and appear to be entirely made out of the tar. Their eyes are green and smoking, their hands are sharp and clawed. However, they’re extremely solid, as if they are a person after all. They hiss and shriek, trying to grab at you in hopes of pulling you down into the tar that pools and floods around them.

You can shake off one or two of them but let enough of them swamp you, and you’ll be dragged down into a tarry grave — never to be seen again.

The beings can be fought off — guns and bows can keep them back but won’t hurt them. Flames work well on them, too. If they manage to claw at you and draw blood, the blood itself will actually be harmful to them and they’ll cower away from even a few drops. Fighting them off will have them retreating back into the sands, leaving nothing but a pool of tar behind.

Leaving is also absolutely an option, if you can get off the sand itself and back onto land. The beings will not follow and seem to be stuck completely on the beaches.

But the experience will leave you feeling emotionally raw in the days that follow. Interlopers will be left feeling hollow, but spending time around others will have the feeling fading and you’ll feel like your usual self again.

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.

IN THE WOODS SOMEWHERE

1. Interlopers are compelled to speak about themselves honestly — describing who they are as a person, using the questions provided. They can talk about canon experiences or simply share their own thoughts about themselves concerning the question.

2. While they will find bones, there is nothing else living in these woods. There will be nothing they will be able to glean from the bones.


BEACHED

1. While the claws are sharp enough to cut an Interloper, the beings aren't aiming to maim — they're simply trying to grab hold of the person to drag them down into the tar.

TALES FROM THE NORTHERN TERRITORIES NEWSLETTER

Comments

miss huang | severance

[misshuang]

arrival.

[ A young girl of thirteen or so blinks widely as she slowly rouses herself from the abandoned cabin floor she woke up on. Confusion knits her brows as she begins to search the place, but there's nothing — no instructions left for her to follow, not even a way to communicate with Mr. Milchick.

She worries her lip as she pushes open the heavy wooden door with a resonating creak, peering out into the snowy white abyss. Is this another ORTBO? But there was no scheduled second Outdoor Retreat and Team-Building Occurrence for the innies, and she hadn't thought there would be another, given the fiasco that was the first.

....This has to be one though, right? There's no other explanation. Possibly she was put to sleep for the journey. Maybe this is even a test for her, too. She hasn't been doing so well, she thinks. Mr. Milchick seems irritated lately. All the more reason for her to succeed with what must be a lesson she's meant to learn.

Gathering herself, the girl closes the door to the cabin behind her, and begins to head in the direction that the smoke is coming from, though it seems a long distance away. If Mr. Milchick intended for her to stay in the cabin, he would have left clear, no-nonsense instruction for her to do so. It's time to head out, see what she's supposed to do. So she does, though the trek is a difficult one. The last time she was out in the snowy landscape, she wore a thick fur coat with an appropriately matched fur hat. Now, she's simply dressed in the usual crisp uniform befitting her managerial position.

None of it is well-suited for this environment, but Lumon makes no mistakes. The girl keeps walking, trudging forwards with discomfort she tries her hardest to mask; the snow is harshly cold and unpleasant against her feet. By the time she finally makes it to a path, she's shuddering harder than she can control, thin arms wrapped around herself, cheeks stung pink by the chill. Unease pricks at her heart, but she ignores it. Mr. Milchick wouldn't leave her in a dangerous situation; surely she's being watched, monitored.

And then she sees the movement of someone along the path up ahead, and relief comes pouring in, even though she doesn't immediately recognise the person. Her voice is shaking from the temperature, but she lifts it loud enough to be heard, managing a hopeful, breathless smile. ]

Have I completed my task?

methuselah's feast.

[ By now, Miss Huang has realised that this ORTBO is very different from the last. Mr. Milchick still hasn't come to retrieve her, and there's been no sign of any of the innies on the floor she supervises. She's still unsure how to react to everything, but all she can do is keep moving forwards until someone comes to collect her. She listens to the elderly man speak, making sure to keep her disposition one of Cheer. None of what he says is familiar to her studies, but this must be part of the process.

These people must be innies. She must be here to supervise them. That's it. Lumon is testing her managerial skills, making sure she's up to the task.

After helping herself to a bowl of warm stew, the girl goes to sit down at one of the long tables. Back held straight, posture rigid and controlled, she takes sips of her meal and lets her eyes roam around the place. When her gaze makes contact with someone, she sets her spoon down politely on a nearby napkin and smiles pleasantly, head turning to face the stranger. ]

Good afternoon. My name is Miss Huang. I'm your acting manager today.

[ ...With Mr. Milchick nowhere in visible sight, her deputy manager status gets bumped up a bit, right? It shows that she's taking initiative when she's the only authority figure available! ]

Would you like to come sit with me? We can get to know each other better that way, can't we?

[ After eating, Miss Huang can be found walking around the community center, checking in on various people standing or sitting about. The girl of thirteen or so will step up to you with that calm, pleasant smile, voice almost robotic and mildly infantilising in tone. ]

Hello there. My name is Miss Huang. How are we doing? Is everything okay?

---

etcetera.

character info / hmu at horreur if you'd like to plot something else / will match format ♡

methuselah's feast

[friendsfordinner]

[ Cornelius Hickey is being confronted with something that he has absolutely no idea how to deal with: a preteen girl. He's come to the feast mostly because hey, it's a free meal, he's not an idiot, he'll happily eat Methusalah's food for the night. That's something he's used to. Questions like 'how did I get here' (who knows), 'where are we' (Milton), 'what's with that old guy' (Methuselah, he's an odd one), those are things that Hickey can answer. Those are things that Hickey is used to.

Some small child saying that she's his acting manager, whatever that is? Yeah. Unexpected.

He's seated across the table from Miss Huang, a few seats down, and simply raises his eyebrow at that question. ]

Hell, Aurora's bringing in children now? I know there's that Marsh girl, but you're something else. How old are you, Huang? Eleven?

[misshuang]

[ Miss Huang isn't unused to innies being a bit baffled by the sight of her — presumably, none of them have even been directly exposed to young people before — though her expression immediately shifts. That cheerful disposition sobers into something serious, no-nonsense. She makes sure not to become unpleasant, because it's important she remember to be cordial.

But it's equally important she exerts her authority. And so when she speaks, it's crisp, to the point. ]

Miss Huang, please. As a friendly reminder, I am your supervisor.

How old I am isn't relevant. [ Pause. ] Not eleven, though. [ Please! She's not an infant!!

After she's said her piece, she smiles, more sweetly again, and just a touch patronising. She doesn't mean it to be, but it's probably always going to come off that way when she's a literal child treating adults like they're the children. Of course, aren't innies technically mentally younger than she is? ]

And what's your name?

[friendsfordinner]

Cornelius Hickey, [ he answers, with a skeptical little eyebrow raise. ] Though you're wrong on one point. I don't have a supervisor. And if I did, she wouldn't be nine years old.

[ He knows she probably isn't nine - though he's not the best with children, Hickey has a vague idea of what kids look like. But he suspects being called nine will annoy her and Hickey is 100% ready to bully a child. ]

[misshuang]

[ Is this sarcasm? She thinks it might be, though it's a concept that the straight-laced child isn't very intimately familiar with. Innies can be unexpectedly cheeky though, in her experience with them. ...Granted, her experience is short, and there are parts of this job she doesn't always feel the most confident about.

She has to do this, though. She can do this. Even if it does irritate her that the innie continues to disrespect her, and she wrinkles her nose for a moment before responding with another one of those Stepford smiles. ]

In that case, it's a pleasure to meet you, Cornelius H.

[ That's your name now, Hickey... ]

Surely you have a supervisor. [ Maybe they don't call it that where he works, though. Some of the departments are very... unique. ] Which department do you work in?

Arrival

[astrogator]

[For Tayrey, the walk is routine. She's wrapped up warmly, and she's used to the cold now. She's out almost every day, foraging or collecting firewood. Often she doesn't see anyone else at all, and when she does, it's the same familiar faces. Today is different.

The girl's voice is hard to hear over the strong, bracing wind, but it's enough for Tayrey to stop. To turn. Almost immediately, she pulls off her own coat, that full-length lieutenant's uniform coat she treasures, and she rushes to offer it to the girl, who has only thin clothes on, and far too much exposed skin.]

If the person who gave you the task told you to come out here like this, you shouldn't have listened.

[It's mildly chiding, yes, but there's far more concern than criticism.]

You'll be in no state to complete anything if you end up dangerously hypothermic. Here. Put this on.

[The offered coat. They're around the same height, so the length will be perfect. Tayrey, who is section lieutenant to a Tradeline apprentice this girl's age, and who grew up a Company daughter, isn't about to talk down to her, but helping her get warmer has to be first priority, so she's all brisk practicality.]

[misshuang]

[ As the older girl approaches, it becomes much more evident to Miss Huang that she's a stranger. This is odd — her world at Lumon is typically very small, isolated to a few select people. The innies she supervises and her own superior, Mr. Milchick. Occasionally there are visits from others, like the woman with the wide smile who represents The Board, but....

Even as her mind is spinning to stay calm and make sense of things, she can't help the very human response to having a warm coat offered for her shivering frame. She hesitates only a moment, as though wondering whether it's all right for her to accept the garment or if this lesson she's learning means she shouldn't, before her hand reaches out to tug it over her shoulders. She's freezing, barely able to nod her thanks.

Though the words have her pausing, stunned for a moment as she slowly slides her arms into the sleeves of the coat. Wait... What if she was supposed to stay in the cabin? Did she make a foolish decision by leaving it? The wrong decision? Is this woman a Lumon worker sent to correct her? Shame flushes her stinging cheeks a little pinker. ]

There were no instructions left for me at my starting point, [ she finally offers in her own robotic, even tone, shuddering a little less so with the warmth of body heat and well-made material covering her bare skin. ] I could only assume that meant I was supposed to take initiative, and find my own way.

....I saw the smoke, [ she adds, trying to defend herself. The truth is, she has no experience being unsupervised out in the wilds like this. She's been sheltered her entire life. ] It seemed smartest to follow it.

[astrogator]

[No instructions at her starting point. Tayrey nods, seriously. The girl has just arrived, she understands that now, and it means that her decision to walk is far more rational. Better that than staying still, out in the cold.]

You made the best decisions you could with the information you had. [Maybe one day she'll be able to say that and make it her own, without feeling like she's parroting Savitskaya. It doesn't matter. It's still the truth.]

You made it to the path. That was sensible. And then I found you, so it'll work out, all nominal, yes?

[As she speaks, she's unwinding the long grey scarf that she wears looped around her neck and over her hair and ears, and she offers that to the girl, too. Tayrey can already feel the bite of the cold herself, without that warm outer layer - but she has several layers. She can tolerate discomfort. If that girl can wander all the way here in such unsuitable clothing then Tayrey has to be at least that strong.

There's something else she needs to address, though. The girl's focus on task and outcome, her attempt to justify herself as if Tayrey were her assessor, it's all so very familiar.]

I don't know if you need to hear this. [She has lowered her voice a little. An extension of confidence.] If it doesn't apply, you'll disregard it, but in case you're thinking it - we're not in simulation. This is real, the hazards are real. My name's Tayrey. Lieutenant Tayrey, of the Tradelines. [And then, a fact she wouldn't usually think to add, but that feels suddenly relevant, in a way it hasn't for a very long time.] I'm a daughter of the Cardalek Corporation. Arilanna Lorenza Kittredge Carrington Tayrey. [She searches the girl's face for any glimmer of recognition, of the Tradelines, the Company, or those very prominent family names of hers.] Peace and prosperity to you.

[misshuang]

[ The woman's response is a reassurance that eases that tingle of shame in Miss Huang. The best decisions she could. Sensible. She has to smile a little, like the words are praise, brightening a bit — for a rare moment, she could almost look like a girl again, and not the figure of authority she's been acting as.

The scarf is likewise accepted gratefully, and she winds it around her own head in imitation of the way the other was wearing it. The movements are a little awkward; she's never done this, either. Her wardrobe is carefully picked out by others and has never involved a scarf before. But the shroud is warm, protecting her ears from the sting of wind. ]

Thank you.

[ The next words to come have Miss Huang pausing again, watching the older girl with an expression that's hard to read — eyes fixated on Tayrey's face, at once confused by what she's hearing but also... not, because some of this is familiar where other parts are completely foreign.

She doesn't recognise the names given, but... this isn't a simulation? The hazards are real. But... why would she be placed in such a situation? Unless... is it a punishment of some kind? Miss Huang's mouth pulls into a frown, more unsettled than she'd care to admit. She's never heard any of this in Kier's teachings... ]

The Tradelines? [ She'll start there, brow pinched as she stares at the older. ] That's... a branch of Lumon?

methuselah's feast.

[perceptual]

[ Helly's having a weird fucking day.

First there was the Overtime Contingency, and all the bullshit that came with it. The party, the people, Jame Eagan wheezing breathily at her in the bathroom. Then Ms Cobel, so furious she was trembling with rage, closely followed by the elation of having a captive audience to actually listen to her for once in her bitterly short and awful life. And then, just as someone lunged at her and knocked her sideways, she'd woken up here.

She'd trudged all the way towards civilisation through the snow, head bent down against the cold – and that's another thing she's never felt in her life, so cold that it stings, so cold that it burns – and finally found somewhere to sit down and slurp a steaming bowl of soup, and for the record this is the first time she's had soup, and frankly the first time she's tasted anything that isn't peanuts or raisins with the tang of vending machine. And then, suddenly, there's a child. ]

Um. [ She stops with the spoon halfway towards her mouth, steam curling up in front of her face. ] No thank you.

[misshuang]

[ There's a flash of vivid, warm red, and Miss Huang feels a sweep of kneejerk relief, followed by stun as she realises exactly who she's looking at. The last time she saw the woman at an ORTBO.... well. She knows how messy that turned out. The consequences weren't pleasant. Irving B. won't be back. ]

Helly R.

[ There's some possibility that she's not, of course. But until Miss Huang gets directive on anything more, she can only go with her assumptions, and she thinks it's for the best she behave as though dealing fully with the innie, who, in her own timeline, she has so recently become properly acquainted with after all that... messiness. So the young girl smiles more brightly, and tilts her head almost like one would do towards a child. Fond, and a little patronising. ]

Don't be silly. I know you don't know me as well as your co-workers do yet, but that just means we have lots of fun things to look forward to.

[ She stands with slow grace, takes her bowl with equal amounts of grace, and moves to the seat right in front of Helly, sitting down. She doesn't stop smiling, the expression a little too practiced. ]

Do you need anything?

[perceptual]

[ It's hard to even know where to start. Helly's spoon clatters back into her bowl as she tracks the girl meticulously moving from one spot to another. It's irritating to think that the presence of this girl has cleared up a few things, namely that this is of course some more Lumon bullshit despite the fact that nobody else here appears to know what Lumon is. And of course Lumon would hire children; that's exactly the kind of cartoonishly evil nonsense they'd be up to behind closed doors.

The problem is that now, apparently, she has an acting manager. Sure, it's probably better to know who's supervising her than spend the rest of her time here giving everyone the side-eye, but this is devious behaviour, because it's hard to get angry at a kid. Hard to threaten violence upon a kid. Maybe they knew she was thinking it, and this is the length they've gone to.

Helly's mind works a mile a minute. She makes long, silent, terse eye contact with Miss Huang. ]

Do I need anything? [ she asks, and surprises herself with how uneven her voice sounds, how tremulous with anger. Keeping a lid on it has never been one of her best traits, but she vaulting this table and laying hands on someone feels like a very likely possibility in this state. She grips the edge of it to hold herself still. ] I need to know where my friends are.

[misshuang]

[ Truly, Miss Huang barely knows Helly R., apart from what she's been told and shown on some surveillance footage. Things that were necessary for her to be able to do her job well in handling the innie. Helly R. is a special case, and it's especially important that Miss Huang do a good job handling her now, too.

She keeps smiling despite every uneasy note of tension and anger in the woman's voice. It's fine. This is simply Helly R's temperament; Miss Huang knows that. ]

Your fellow team members— [ —she replaces the word 'friends' with what the other innies really are, all the while smiling bright and pleasant— ] are hard at work back at their stations, I'm sure. As they always are.

[ The fact the rest of MDR aren't here is strange. Usually they're all kept together. But it's all for a reason, of course. Maybe Helly R. specifically is being tested, too. Miss Huang pauses, head tilting slightly, something almost like empathy knitting her brows a little, though it's like the sort one might have for a child that doesn't understand something. Helly R. has been very out of the loop, after all. ]

You don't know what an ORTBO is, do you, Helly R.?

arrival

[desperate_times_right]

[The woman she encounters on the road had, until she had spotted the girl in the distance, been a wolf, so she isn't exactly dressed for the weather either. Chloe had changed into the emergency outfit she carries in her pack, which includes a thin wool shirt, yoga pants and jelly shoes, and is pulling her hair back into a ponytail as the girl approaches.]

What? You're going to freeze out here!

[misshuang]

[ The first thing Miss Huang notices about the woman coming up to her is that she's not dressed for a sensible and productive work day.

This is very odd, and she's looking a bit uncertain as she takes in the attire, but the girl quickly adjusts her expression to one of pleasant calm. ....Never mind the chattering of her teeth. Everything is just fine. ]

Oh, there's nothing to worry about. I'm not in any real danger.

[ She's certain that any moment now, Mr. Milchick will be sent to fetch her. It is a little weird that there's no warmer clothing to be found, though. ]

You weren't provided with a coat?

[desperate_times_right]

What?

[Chloe is caught off guard for a moment.]

Oh. No, I have one, it's just… nevermind. It's not important right now.

You're in more danger than you think.

[misshuang]

[ She isn't sure if the woman is an innie or not just yet, but she's most certainly a Lumon employee of some sort. And this clearly is some kind of test or learning experience. So instead of looking troubled by what the woman says, Miss Huang simply tilts her head a little to the side with a smile that's almost bemused. ]

What am I meant to do, then?

[ This is some sort of roleplay, obviously... The woman must be here to guide her through it, one way or another. ]

Feast

[meadqueen]

[Good luck with this one. Randvi doesn't even know what a manager is.]

Hail, Miss Huang. My name is Randvi. What is it that you manage?

[She seems young but so had Ruby, and Jessica, and Uzi.]

[misshuang]

[ The woman is very distinctive-looking, with the way she's dressed. Miss Huang immediately thinks she surely works on the severed floor of a branch somewhere, perhaps something very similar to Mammalians Nurturable. But the way she introduces herself, without the first letter of her last name, suggests otherwise...

Miss Huang isn't sure about her, but she'll respond with the same brand of polite, maintained pleasantness as always. Not too frivolous, of course. Everything must be emotionally-controlled and peaceful. ]

Hello, Randvi. [ Another calm smile. ] I'm actually the deputy manager, but since my manager isn't around, I'm assuming responsibility in his absence.

I work on the severed floor at Branch 501. Which branch are you from?

[meadqueen]

I see. How industrious.

[One so young managing things in an interim capacity sounds like an aetheling pushed into power by circumstance before she's ready. Randvi needs to treat her with the kindness that she’d shown Ceolbert.

I don't know what that is, a severed floor. I represent the Raven Clan as strategist.

[misshuang]

[ "Industrious" sounds a bit like the big sort of words that Mr. Milchick uses, the ones she's not entirely sure as to the meanings of, but Miss Huang refrains from admitting this aloud. She doesn't want to seem incompetent!

But there's another matter, and her brows lift with surprise (and a fair bit of disbelief) as the woman says she doesn't know what a severed floor it. But... everyone knows, even the people who disapprove of them... She's just going to keep going, pleasant as ever as she asks. ]

The Raven Clan? What kind of work does your department do?

feast.

[afterdrop]

[Honestly, the question is so unexpected that Charles completely fails to recognize it at first. He'd noticed the kid walking about the hall, already had his moment of anger and grief that this place would pull in an actual child. She's clearly speaking with others, though, and Charles continues eating, comfortable that the girl is at least being taken care of for now

At least until he hears the small, even voice coming from beside him.]

Um. [He looks at the girl, and then over her shoulder, and then back at her.] Am I okay?

[And what's with the "Miss"? Is she some kind of servant? His heart pangs at the thought, and he sits up straighter on his bench.]

I'm aces. Are you okay?

[misshuang]

[ Miss Huang doesn't stop smiling as the young man looks around for a moment before finding her again. She only stands there politely, hands folded in front of her torso, calm but expectant. At his question, she warms — although she's careful to maintain her cheerfulness. It's important to be pleasant, but never too much. ]

I'm doing very well, thank you for asking! This is a great opportunity to learn things that will help me become a more capable worker. [ It's the only way to respond, of course. She wouldn't dare complain, even if she's tired and sore and feeling a bit overwhelmed all on her own.

She pauses a moment, tilting her head at him. ]

Is aces a good thing?

[afterdrop]

[Well, that sounds even more like something an oppressed child servant would say, and Charles' frown only deepens. Blink twice, Miss Huang.]

Yeah, aces are good. Means things are alright.

[Maybe she's one of those kids who grew up locked in a basement, or something. Like that movie with the fit blonde lady from Captain Marvel. He didn't see it, but he knows a thing or two about being locked in a basement.]

C'mon, sit. At least let me grab you a coat, or something. You've got to be freezing.

[misshuang]

[ There's a thoughtful moment of consideration taken at that. Everything Miss Huang knows is the product of Kier teaching and institutions. New learning experiences are very novel to her, though she isn't unused to hearing words she doesn't know the meanings of. Mr. Milchick is always using lengthy terms she doesn't understand.

"Aces", though.... it's short and interesting, and kind of fun. Not at all like the complicated words her superior throws out at her. She smiles cheerfully again, bobbing her head in a curt nod to show that she grasps what the other says. ] I understand.

[ Though she pauses again at his.. concern? Is that what it is? Innies usually don't exhibit that, do they? ]

'Freezing' would mean that I'm about to die. I'm not about to die.

[ She says this very matter-of-factly and with the slightest hint of chiding, like she knows more than he ever will. ...This is why people want to fight you, Miss Huang. But she does appreciate the gesture, even if her way of expressing it continues to be mildly condescending in its praise. Sorry Charles, she thinks you were literally born yesterday. ]

....But I suppose I am uncomfortable, because of the cold. It would be very benevolent of you to find a coat for me. What a helpful idea!