December 2025 Test Drive Meme

[singmod]

DECEMBER 2025 TDM

IMPORTANT NOTE: THIS TDM IS THE FINAL PUBLIC APPLICATION ROUND. IF YOU ARE A NEW PROSPECTIVE PLAYER, THIS WILL BE YOUR FINAL CHANCE TO APPLY FOR THE GAME. RETURNING PLAYERS AND CURRENT PLAYERS CAN APPLY DURING THIS ROUND TOO.

A FINAL APP ROUND IN FEBRUARY WILL BE POSTED FOR RETURNING PLAYERS / CURRENT PLAYERS ONLY.

PROMPT ONE — ARRIVAL: METHUSELAH'S FEAST: The penultimate 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 — JUST A SONG: A being arrives at the doors of Interlopers, causing mischief — and rewarding Interlopers for being such good sports.

PROMPT THREE — THE ICE CAVES: Interlopers find themselves as unwelcome guests in a labyrinth of ice caves.

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. This ancient creature that sneers at you, who does not want you here. Your fellow Interlopers will fill you in on this being soon enough.

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.

“Here we are, once again. This place continues to draw more souls in.” he nods gravely. “But I wonder for how much longer you turn up in this town. I am Methuselah. I welcome you Newcomer, although I’m sorry for how you’ve come to find yourself here. This world has been long since changed by the lights. And more change is still to come, I feel. 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.

JUST A SONG

WHEN: The month of December.
WHERE: Milton.
CONTENT WARNINGS: supernatural creatures; folklore-inspired creatures; skeletal beings (horses); pranks/mischief.

Sounds of revelry have been heard through the streets of Milton: music, singing, bells. You can hear them from your cabin, or even as you venture through the town. It really sounds like someone’s having a pretty good time. It’s actually kind of nice to hear it, all things considered. Interlopers often find themselves with little to be cheerful about with the long night, bitter cold and difficult daily life.

Going out to find the source of such festivities will come up with nothing, however, which is both disappointing and a little unnerving. Until one night you hear the noise right at your door, and there’s the sudden boom of a knock.

Opening the door will lead to silence, but instead stands a tall being that towers higher than the door frame. Slow to move, a skull moves into view and you find yourself staring at a horse skull, adorned with ribbons, bells and flowers, its ears flicking in curiosity. Its eyes glow white in the dark. The remainder of the being’s body is covered by a huge white shroud and while it appears as a rather frightening creature — it makes no move to attack you. Instead, it stands calmly, relaxed.

Its teeth chatter for a moment, and it bursts into song: slow and cheerful:

‘I am come, dear friend, at your door to sing.
I am come, dear friend, why won’t you let me in?

If I trespass, tell me then, why that I must go.
If I trespass, state in song, you should tell me so.’

You must tell the creature, in song, why they cannot come in. It’s… almost like a game—?

So you try, singing to the creature why it cannot enter your home. But the creature is clever, and can come up with plenty of ways in which it can argue for coming inside an Interloper’s home — returning its arguments in song. It starts off a back and forth, a debate in song. Eventually, you’ll fail to come up with reasons against the creature gaining entry and fail to argue back a reply. The creature jaw chatters cheerfully and ducks — charging forwards and passes right through you. As you turn to look back inside, you’ll see nothing there — the creature is nowhere to be seen.

However, you’ll soon find yourself falling victim to a… well, it’s almost a harmless prank if anything:

Altered Speech: Interlopers find themselves talking backwards, no matter how hard they try to not. Even Interlopers with Aurora Call will find their ‘mental voice’ speaking backwards, too.

Animal Ears: Interlopers find themselves with some kind of animal ears. While they certainly don’t get the benefits of said animal’s hearing — it does make wearing hats a bit of a pain.

Confetti: Everywhere you go, rainbow-coloured confetti will fall from your head. It can either be a constant stream, like a little raincloud above your head. Or maybe it comes out when you sneeze, or cough, or even just speak.

They See You: There’s googly eyes. All shapes and sizes. Everywhere. On the furniture. On your toothbrush. On your soup can. On you. No one knows where they come from, and if you take them away — they will come back.

Plastic Wrap: When you try to go through a door, you’ll be hit in the face with plastic wrap. It won’t be every door, though. And you’ll never know if a door’s been booby-trapped with it. But any door might be one that gets you.

They keep finding a random item in every drawer

These shenanigans will keep up for several days. However, on the morning of the day after the effects have passed, Interlopers will awaken to find everything back to normal. They’ll also find at the foot of their bed a small parcel. Inside, they’ll find a sweet treat of their choice: maybe a cake or candy they like the most, something they can’t otherwise get in the Northern Territories.

Maybe it wasn’t so bad after all.

THE ICE CAVES

WHEN: The month of December.
WHERE: Everywhere…?
CONTENT WARNINGS: animal attacks / wolf attacks; supernatural animals; potential injuries, potential cold injuries/hyperthermia risk.

You wake up cold, to the sound of a great beast breathing restlessly. The sound echoes, and it feels far away and incredibly close at the same time. The air is humid, which makes the cold even more biting and the ground feels wet beneath you. As you sit up, you realise why: there are patches of ice that make up the floor, which now melt beneath your warm body. The light is dim, but you can see well enough with the soft blue glow that encompasses the area around you. As you get up to examine this glow, you realise it’s greeted by bioluminescent fungi which creep around the walls, floor and ceiling.

It’s an ice cave, and you find yourself not alone. Another is here with you.

Taking a few moments to recollect yourselves and take in your surroundings, you decide to traverse the caves in hopes of finding an exit. What meets you is a labyrinth of tunnels and atriums: all covered in the very same bioluminescent fungi and ice. The ground is slippery to walk on, and care should be taken. Every so often, the walls tremble and quake — not enough to cause any kind of cave-in, but enough to keep you on your toes.

But it’s not just you two in this cave. Not just the mysterious beast’s troubled breathing either. Something else is here, too — something far more familiar.

And soon you’ll find out: wolves.

You’ll find three here. Their eyes glowing green in the dim light. The first wolf is distinguishable by its more fluffy coat, their scruff poofs up a great deal more — tinged with white. Its approach is more softer, hoping to catch Interlopers unaware in the caves.

The second wolf is recognised by its scruffy coat, looking mangier than the others — missing chunks of it in places. This wolf is far more noisy compared to the others and tends to run more, barrelling into the Interlopers headfirst.

The third wolf is bigger than the other two, but its behaviour could only be described as being… sketchy. This wolf is far more silent, and likes to hide and stalk Interlopers from afar — even waiting for them to pass before it sneaks up from behind.

The wolves can be fought, they can even be killed — but they won’t stay down for long. Eventually, even if you’re sure they’re dead, they’ll get back up again and resume the chase of you through the caves. It’s best to keep moving and find a way out of this maze of a cave system.

You’ll find the opening soon enough, and stepping through the cave’s mouth will bring you back into a random location: you could find yourself outside a random cave in the Milton wilds, suddenly entering a long-abandonned cabin in Lakeside, or stepping inside the Frozen Angler in Silverpoint (to a confused-looking Molly). There seems to be no rhyme or reason to where you end up, and you certainly can’t go back — just hope you’re somewhere you’d like to be.

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.

JUST A SONG

1. The being is inspired heavily by a festive Welsh folk tradition Mari Lwyd, where participants would visit homes, singing and engaging in a rhyming battle of wits, known as pwnco. The Mari Lwyd is a figure of mischief and havoc, but also one of good luck to the homes they successfully win at entering.

2. The being can come to the same home multiple times, so Interlopers can be affected by multiple ‘prank’ effects.

3. Failure to sing at all will result in an automatic loss.

4. The being cannot be harmed, and attempts to hurt it will pass right through it. It will also mean an automatic loss — and the being might just leave you your WORST/LEAST FAVOURITE sweet treat instead.

THE ICE CAVES


1. The three wolves are a call out to the player-named unique wolves of The Long Dark who exist within internal locations: Fluffy, Scruffy and Sketchy.

2. Characters end up in the Ice Caves with whatever they happen to have on their person at the time.— if it’s typical for them to carry weapons, they’ll have this with them.

3. While the wolves will never stay dead for long, they can be killed by any means you would normally kill a wolf: bullets, knives, arrows, etc.

TALES FROM THE NORTHERN TERRITORIES NEWSLETTER

Comments

QUESTIONS

[singmod]

Ask them here!

Re: QUESTIONS

[wanderwolf]

Hey um… what happens if you try to eat the bioluminescent fungus? Or scrape some off the walls and store it in a jar? Can anything by made out of it - a poultice, a powder, a spray-on luminescent paint?

[faa]

For the ice caves - could "whatever they had on their person" include a dog on a leash they were holding?

[astrogator]

For the altered speech prank prompt:

- can characters write properly, or would writing come out backwards too?
- if a character figured out what was happening and tried to deliberately speak backwards so that their listener heard it forwards, would this work? Or would it stay backwards, being based on the character's intent rather than just reversing everything?

Sorry, she's the type to look for loopholes and I don't want to assume either way!

Edward Little ⚓ The Terror

[fidior]

ooc — current player, indulging in some shenanigans✨ happy to utilise these for cr, bumping into newcomers, etc.!

---

JUST A SONG —

( Edward Little is no stranger to being cursed in strange ways. As the days stretch out, so cold and dark, he comes to life in ways that no good-hearted, mortal man should. Of course, Little isn't sure that he is either of those things, anymore.

Like any predator, he now thrives in the darkness. His body, mind, spirit — his senses themselves come alive in the gloom. He moves easily, more vital and hale now that the sun can no longer cause him grief and pain. He patrols the town as always: a figure dressed in the full uniform of the Royal Navy: cap, gloves, boots, and wool, lengthy greatcoat cloaking most of him, sweeping with movement. He checks in on everyone routinely — though anyone with a feat (and especially more than one) will notice he keeps a bit more physical distance — and when he hears wind of a new wave of Interlopers, he'll seek them out: both those who have already made it to the community center and those who may still be out there in the wilds, in need of assist.

As it goes, he becomes the victim of humiliating pranks multiple times throughout the month. Despite how troubling they are, he maintains his responsibilities...

When he suffers from altered speech, communication is all but impossible. Still, he tries: the Distressed Victorian Man might approach you, eyes wide as saucers, barely swallowing back a wave of panic. )

Me pardon! Me tell you can, please... Words my understand to able you are?

( It's also possible that you hear his voice, but inside of your mind. A stream of thought that may sound like gibberish, but closer inspection might reveal to you that it's actually just words spoken backwards. As Little mentally and inadvertently projects his frenzied thoughts, he roams around looking stricken, wringing his gloved hands.

There's also a time in which he has animal ears. This is particularly mortifying, but one must keep soldiering on, after all... No matter what else he has become these days, he is still a first lieutenant! So he pulls his officer's cap down as much as he can in attempt to cover the pair of fluffy brown cow ears sticking out from thick waves of hair. His hat pushes them downwards a bit, and he pulls the large lapels of his coat upwards, but it's impossible to conceal the affronting things. Especially when they twitch here and there at various sounds — though they don't affect his hearing or heighten it in any way, they're certainly very reactive. He's looking very mournful about it, which — given those big wet cow eyes of his — only adds to the overall concept.

There are other times they see you, aka the number of 'googly eyes' (not that Little knows what they are called) peering your way from various places and being of various sizes on his person. These unnerve him in a special way — after removing a few of them and discovering immediately that they simply come back, he's been quite horrified. The eyes are... sightless, and appear to be made of some... manmade material...? ("plastic" doesn't exist yet for him, not in this sense of the word, anyway)...

He doesn't like this at all, and especially how the eye-things shake with movement, as though looking around. There are some on his coat, some on his gloves, but worst of all — one on his cheek, the side of his neck, and his forehead. He lifts a palm to cover the side of his face, too distracted to properly watch where he's going, and might bump right into you, all those googly eyes shifting and tilting around wildly as he jerks back. This is very scary.... )

Altered speech ( ・ω・)

[swill]

[Allegedly, this is Canada. O Canada! Land of the brave, home of the free. There's gotta be truth to it because Hawkeye could have felt his very blood turn to maple syrup now that he's among pines, its long-yearned-for natural state of being... if he could have felt anything at all. As it is, he's but a popsicle cloaked in standard winter garb: olive, dusty, oversized and undersized canvas with straight yet too-broad stitching boasting the finest of American mil-spec. The parka is drafty, old, and cold. It sucks. It's crap. It's crap! It's crap, it's crap, it's crap it's crap crap cr

But then: life. Someone approaches. Even in the dark, trying his damnedest to not get turned around by the steady flurries that sting his eyes and cling to his eyelashes, Hawkeye cocks his head as he catches sight of the guy that's speaking in... not tongues. But close enough.

He nods. There's confidence there, even if God says there shouldn't be.

...because why shouldn't he have some fun? His ass is freezing. He deserves this much before he dies. (in Canada!)]

Well I've gotta say, sailor, that's mighty forward of you.

[One glance to the left. One glance to the right. One glance over his shoulder, for good goddamn measure.

Hawk drops his voice to a conspirational whisper.] But no. No, I don't have a wife.

[solitarysoul]

[Levi pauses and cants his head a bit when Little speaks to him. That's...weird. Is he alright?]

Are you okay, lieutenant?

Animal ears

[moralabsolutism]

[Rorschach is trying very hard to hide his own animal ears, which are made up of a pair of pointy rusty orange cat ones that match the shade of his hair more closely than he'd like. Trying to wear his face on top of them was unbearably uncomfortable, so he'd been forced to cut ear holes into his current mask. It's okay, he's got a spare, and can probably repair this one anyway. He's got his fedora on but unfortunately the ears seem to do what they want more than he'd like, which includes twitch around when he hears any nearby sounds.

When he sees Edward, Rorschach looks him up and down, noting the cow ears. But he's not gonna mention anything unless the other man wants to. Likewise, he's not going to say anything about the wiggling fedora on his head either which keeps threatening to tip off at any moment.]

Been a while.

[He tells the Englishman telepathically.]

Ben Hargreeves ☂️ The Umbrella Academy

[chogsu]

ooc — some Important Things: this is OG!Ben, canonically dead but thanks to the setting, will be as solid and visible as any living person. The Horrors that manifest through him will also be unable to breach now, as the eldritch portal in his stomach is closed off. I'm pulling him from the end of season 1!

---

ARRIVAL —

( The first thing Ben notices is that it's cold. He hasn't felt cold in a very, very long time. He hasn't felt anything.

Something's wrong. The others aren't in sight, none of them (not even Klaus, he realises, with an odd hitch of startle) and it wasn't supposed to be that way. He was supposed to be back, with them, back in time, back to save the world from what went so wrong with Vanya, not—

—all alone. Ben stands up in a pile of snow, shuddering against the cold wet of it, staring out into an expanse of dark winter. Something's voice, impossibly ancient, still echoes in his thoughts. Is this.... the afterlife? Did he cross over, despite avoiding that inevitable fate for as long as he could?

When he realises he's shivering from the cold, he freezes, staring down at himself. The sensation is foreign after so many years of existing in an incorporeal form. Tentatively, his hands explore his chest, moving down the material of his dark leather jacket, patting himself down. When he reaches his stomach, he hesitates, but doesn't dare touch there. Something's.... not right, with his body. Until he knows what's happened to him, he has to be careful not to poke and prod the monsters that lurk just under his skin, the ones he has no true control over. Mere minutes ago, they'd burst out of him, so strong and lashing and hungry to spill blood.

He needs to keep moving, find... something, anything at all. The endless stretch of land frightens him, all that nothingness. He doesn't want to be alone. So he starts walking, trudging through the snow, arms wrapped around himself. When he glances back, he can see that his footsteps leave prints in the snow. As if he were... real.

When he comes across someone nearby, he halts, eyes widening. He hesitates a moment before slowly lifting an arm into the air, the other still wrapped around his middle as he asks something extremely normal. )

Hello...? Uh... can you see me?

( Later, when he makes his way to the community center, he's moving cautiously around the place, sort of sneaking around and calling out in a hushed whisper— ) Klaus? Dude, where the hell are you? This is weird!

( He might bump into you on accident as he searches for his druggie spirit-medium brother (every family has one, right?) and he'll flinch back apologetically. He somehow occupies actual space now, is capable of actually making physical contact, and it's insane. ....It's everything he's wanted, for so long. ) Sorry! My fault!

THE ICE CAVES —

( Ben wakes with a soft groan, reaching up to wipe the back of his hand across his eyes. It takes a few moments for him to realise — and then he's startling, scrambling to his feet. The ground is slippery beneath his boots, and he slides a little bit, arms moving to try and find balance again. Being a ghost was so much easier when it came to this stuff, at least.

There's a blue glow that's as beautiful as it is eerie, and he's blinking up and around before he realises he's not alone in this.... place. This ice castle looking shit. Ben blinks, taken aback. )

Oh— hey— ....You come here often?

( He cracks a dumb awkward grin as he says something equally dumb and awkward by way of greeting, because interacting with living human beings is not something he's used to. But just as immediately, Ben sobers up as he looks the stranger over in concern. ) Are you okay?

ice caves

[gascogne]

[Having woken just moments earlier, taken stock of himself and odd humidity he'd not felt since he'd been in this place, adjusted to the light when apart from the auroras now it's always dark, D'Artagnan has ventured only a few feet away from the unfamiliar man he'd found lying near him. He'd been prodding at the wall of the cave, the fungi a source of curiosity as it seems to glow from within. As he hears the startled movements of Ben getting to his feet, he turns, dagger in hand, but otherwise appearing an unassuming young man in an ill-fitting down jacket. He quirks an eyebrow at the greeting, the phrasing unknown to him and falling flat as a means of levity, yet he's somehow accidentally answering it appropriately in his own awkward way, voice rasping and lacking the inflection of concern that should be present in this situation.]

Never been.

[D'Artagnan sheathes his dagger at the small of his back, and steps away from the wall as the unsettlingly ambient breathing sounds grow apparently closer and recede again. He ignores it for now, beyond a quick glance behind them, lifting his hand to point at Ben with one finger, gesturing to the unsteady gait on the ice.]

I'm fine. You, my friend, look distressed.

[He's not had the time to perfect walking on the melting ice and its more slippery measure, but he's better off with his Milton-scavanged boots and their spiked straps he'd been fortunately wearing on his first ice fishing endeavour, the last he recalls.]

arrival...i love ben...

[satanicpanics]

[ The nothingness of that vast white void is terrifying, which is exactly why Eddie never travels far from town. He doesn’t exactly have spades of good luck, and he knows he’ll be the one to get lost in the snow if he doesn’t keep Milton just over his shoulder, especially with the night as long as it is now. But that doesn’t stop things from needing fetched—water, firewood, food, and in many cases, lost newcomers.

Such is the case now. Eddie stops dead in his tracks in the snow. He lifts his own arm in a mirror of the other young man’s movement and gives an awkward, almost questioning little wave of his hand, grinning despite the cold. Sure, can you see me isn’t a question people normally ask, but it’s absolutely the least weird thing he’s heard in a good long while. ]

I mean, I can pretend I don’t if you want, but, uh…kind of can’t help you into town if I do.

arrival

[simplyam]

( He was carrying a load of firewood on his back when he noticed the figure appear from out of the mist. Methuselah had been kind to him when he had arrived, bloody and wounded, and he greatly wished to repay the kindness, so he volunteered his services. The amount of wood he carried on his back now was much less than he would ordinarily be able to carry, but his strength seems to have depleted somehow in this place, so he must make do with the strength of an ordinary man, and unordinary as he is.

When the stranger lifts their arm, he tenses. He has managed to avoid being attacked since arriving in this strange village, and he does not want to endure further threats now. He finds his muscles are stiff, ready to bolt in an instant - but the stranger does not appear hostile. In fact, he asks a strange question. )

Should you... not be seen? ( His mouth and the majority of his face are covered with a black cloth, shielding the worst of his visage and slightly muffling his words. He stands in the snow, befuddled by this development. )

Nancy Wheeler | Stranger Things

[consistentpatterns]

[Her canon point is the end of season 4.]

ARRIVAL.

The last thing Nancy remembers is watching the “snow” from the Upside Down starting to fall in Hawkins, red lightning in the sky. This? This is not Hawkins. Or the Upside Down, either. Unless things have changed since the last time she was down there. It’s just… snow, and trees. And cold. “Shit.” She’s not dressed for this. She’s not dressed for this at ALL. She folds her arms and shivers as she tries to curl in on herself as best she can.

Okay. Think Nancy. First things first. Figure out what’s going on. Where she is, and maybe find somewhere out of the cold. Or at least a coat. SOMETHING to keep her from freezing to death. Then she can go from there.

She starts trudging through the snow, shivering. Keeping an eye out. For familiar faces. And for more dangerous things, too.

METHUSELAH’S FEAST.

There’s a lump of blankets on a cot in the corner that’s vaguely Nancy-shaped, hands curled around a bowl of stew. As much for the warmth as it is because she’s hungry. She’s not sure she’s ever going to thaw out, but she might sit here in her lump of blankets to see if she ever does. She’s been told the basics. And after everything that’s happened in Hawkins, she no longer thinks the strange and unusual to be unbelievable.

Beside her, on the cot, is a shotgun. HER shotgun. She doesn’t know how it got here separate from her, but she’s glad for it. Somehow she thinks that it might be useful.

THE ICE CAVES.

Nancy is scrambling to her feet a second after she wakes up. What is it with this place and her finding herself somewhere she wasn’t? She definitely wasn’t in this cave before. At least she has a gun, and the bat she’d found exploring. It had reminded her of Steve. Of home. She’d sooner use the bat than the gun. She doesn’t know how the ammo situation is here, yet. Better to keep that in reserve.

She turns in a slow circle, taking in the cave, the soft blue glow, when she finally sees that she’s not alone. “I don’t suppose you have any idea how we ended up in here, do you? Or better yet, a way out?” She doesn’t think it’s going to be that easy. It’s never that easy. But maybe they’ll luck out.

WILDCARD.

[Choose your own adventure.]

ice caves

[friendsfordinner]

The person she's stuck with is a man who looks to be in his early thirties, with a pointy little beard that screams 'I would be cast as an evil advisor in a fantasy play.' Fortunately, he's also wearing a dark green puffer coat, which looks remarkably out of place compared to the 1840s facial hair that Hickey is still determined to rock. He's standing upright, frown on his face, looking at the walls of the cave as if they'll start shifting if he stares at them enough.

"Last time I was stuck in something like this, we had to tell a secret to get out. Don't think this is the same, though. This cave feels...different."

There's a pause before,

"Course, last time also had words written on the side of the cave telling us what to do. Maybe something like that's here, yeah? Can't hurt to look."

feast

[satanicpanics]

Eddie is only really using the Community Hall as a shortcut back home, not really anting to stay for Methuselah’s Mystery Stew. He’s been here for well over a year in all, and he still can’t bring himself to trust what the old man cooks up. As he slips through the rows of cots, he pauses mid-step, blinks, then whips back around to face the person lumped beneath the blankets.

“Hey, Wheeler.”

It’s such a casual reaction, like this is an ordinary day and this is an old hat—which it is. After everything that happened in his Week from Hell back home, he’s prepared to believe and accept just about anything. People from home aren’t that uncommon, and he’s entertained himself and his anxiety by taking a guess at who might cycle through next and how long they’ll stay before disappearing again. It was Max once, Steve twice, and now he’s down to Dustin and a Mike who doesn’t even know him.

As he stares at her with wide eyes, that calm demeanor slips right off of him and concern slowly settles into his features. He pauses only briefly, then finally asks:

“So, uh…are you gone be the on who finally catches me up on what went down back home, or do I need to wait for the next person?”

Methuselah's Feast

[formula3]

Felix, meanwhile, is still new to all things strange and unusual, but he feels safer inside this community hall than outside of it. He isn't relaxed, exactly, but he isn't in imminent danger either. For now that might have to be enough.

He's similarly wrapped in a thick blanket, an oddly-shaped steering wheel clutched in one hand as he approaches her. He intends to offer a greeting, a friendly word of commiseration, since he guesses her situation is much like his.

The words die on his lips when he sees the shotgun. It's not that Felix objects, exactly. It's that it's a gun. Just sitting there. Felix Terzi is far too European to see this as normal.

'Hey, uh... is that yours?' he asks, his eyes flickering towards the firearm.

Arrival

[wanderwolf]

After only a few minutes of walking, Nancy will see something familiar - not a familiar face, but at least the familiar silhouette of a human, rather than… anything that is not human lurking in this snowy landscape. It’s a man in a long cloak trimmed with fur, and as he approaches out of the frozen mists it becomes clear that he has spotted her as well, because he is headed straight for her. He raises an empty hand, palm outwards either as a greeting or in order to show that he’s not holding any kind of weapon.

“Good evening, sister,” he calls out. “Have you just arrived?”

As he treads closer, his hands go to the clasp of that thick cloak; he undoes the clasp and pulls it off of his shoulders, revealing the long silk robes he wears beneath. He is also carrying a leather bag over his shoulder and a sheathed sword at his hip.

“Come, take my cloak and I shall bring you into town where it’s warm.”

Feast

[wolf_lover]

A large brown-furred wolf with green eyes comes trotting into the Hall, leading in a person who looks half-frozen from the cold. He takes them right up to Methuselah and paws at the old man while looking from the new Interloper to Methuselah. He nods at Connor, having had him done this the past couple of months since he got back to Milton after being gone for so long.

The wolf trots off towards the back of the Hall where there's an empty bunk with clothes that he keeps for just such moments like this. In a minute or two, the wolf is gone, replaced by a man in his early twenties with black hair, blue eyes, and fair skin. He's got the type of look that wouldn't be seen out of place in the illustration of a fairy tale prince. He goes around, chatting with some of those that live in the Hall and the new arrivals.

He stops when he sees Nancy. "New arrival?" he asks while already knowing the answer. Look, Connor is an extrovert and therefore must know everything about everyone.

arrival 🥺

[micycle]

(( ooc: will you accept my month-late tag because I never saw this??? ))

She'll hear him before she sees him, and the strange part is this: it won't be with her ears. Close enough, and it's like a radio signal coming into range, quiet and choppy right up until it's crystal clear. Her brother's voice, but as though it's being spoken into her mind, deeply familiar both in voice and in content:

fuck shit shit goddammit

He isn't immediately visible, and he won't respond to any shouts, not quite yet. Not with the wind blowing like this, and a pair of earmuffs firmly planted on Mike's head. But give it another minute of pushing through the frozen underbrush - punctuated by a telepathic stream of fresh and colorful language that grows louder and louder - and Nancy will finally break through to see it.

A snow-covered road, disturbed by strange prints, and a ways down, someone tall and thin and bundled in warm clothing, trying to pull a small sled. It doesn't seem to be going well.

stupid piece of shit how do you give someone rope burn through like three fucking pairs of gloves jesus christ

Safe to say she's found him.

Lucy Gray Baird | The Hunger Games: The Ballad of Songbirds & Snakes (movie)

[somethingtosay]

Arrival.

Well. At least there’s no snakes. Lucy thinks she ought to be worried that there aren’t. That the arena is nowhere in sight. Just a… dusty ol’ cabin that’s seen better days. “Haven’t we both,” she murmurs softly, shivering as she gets to her feet and starts to look around. This can’t be any worse than where she was, she’s pretty sure. She isn’t dressed for the cold, though. And even having her mama here with her in spirit isn’t enough to make her any warmer. So she starts digging around, scrounging for something, anything, that might be useful.

The fur coat is huge, and almost swallows her whole, but more importantly it’s WARM. The gloves she’s found fit better. Almost perfectly. A brightly coloured flannel goes on under the coat, over her dress. Once she thinks she might actually survive whatever waits for her outside, she opens the door to her little sanctuary, and sets off.

Just a Song.

This at least, she knows. She might not know anything else, but she knows music. She smiles at the guest at her door as she slings her guitar over her shoulders, fingers brushing the strings before she starts to play, and she starts to sing.

🎶‘My mama always told me not to let strangers in
My mama always told me to avoid letting danger in’🎶

She’s sung for her life before. This isn’t any different. She keeps going and going, countering any argument her visitor tries… until she doesn’t. Until she fails. It chatters at her and charges at her, THROUGH HER and she gasps, spinning on her heel… to find nothing. It’s gone. Whatever it was. It’s gone.

Only it’s left something behind. Every time she tries to talk, tries to sing…. It comes out wrong. It comes out SDRAWKCAB. She goes up to someone, several someones, reaching out to touch their arm as she tries desperately to talk to them. “.em dnatsrednu nac uoy em llet esaelP ?em dnatsrednu uoy naC”

Or there’s confetti, falling from her head, coming out when she talks, or coughs. It’s better than the backwards talk. At least she can still sing, this way. Even if it looks like a constant celebration every time she opens her mouth. She tries to keep it from getting in her guitar as she plays. As she sings.

🎶You can't take my past.
You can't take my history.
You could take my pa,
But his name's a mystery.
Nothing you can take from me was ever worth keeping.'🎶

Wildcard.

[Choose your own adventure!]

arrival!

[chogsu]

Turns out that tromping around in the cold is difficult. Who would have imagined! Area man who has been dead for the past decade or so is facing some rude awakenings with the whole 'having a corporeal form again' thing, and finding that the world is a lot different now that he's no longer just a ghost haunting everything around him.

Ben's shivering so hard it hurts his teeth, arms wrapped around himself. The hoodie and leather jacket combo, jeans, and boots he showed up in are hardly enough to keep him warm, and he's finding it progressively harder and harder to actually move around. His toes, fingers, ears, and nose are the worst, stinging and flushed in the crisp winter chill, and he keeps having to sniffle loudly against a drippy nose.

This is terrible. How do living people do this??

He's wandering around in the middle of seemingly nowhere when he spots movement and startles. Eyes wide, he begins heading towards the person who's all bundled up, lifting an arm to wave.

"Hey! Hello! Thank god, a person." Beat, as he wonders for just a second if she can really see him or hear him — his new solid body suggests so, but he's so used to existing as an invisible presence to everyone around him. It'll become obvious right away if she can or not, and even if she can't, then he can just silently follow the young woman to some source of refuge.

The Creature / Frankenstein (2025)

[simplyam]

ARRIVAL

( The cold is a familiar friend to him. It seeped into his reanimated skin and found a place in his bones during his months spent on the Artic tundra as he hunted his Maker, and Victor hunted him in turn. It is a relentless, disquieting companion, the cold, but Adam barely registers it as he wanders another frozen landscape. He has no recollection of how he arrived here, how far he must have walked south to trade the frozen sea for hills and trees, but his surroundings seem no less desolate than the furthermost north had been. So, he continues to walk. Such is his fate, forced to wander the earth for eternity.

As he marches on, he trips slightly on a patch of ice hidden by the snow, and unthinkingly grabs the arm of a tree to steady himself. Pain bites into his palm, a splintered branch cutting his pale skin, but he gives it no notice. He and pain are familiar bedfellows, and he knows his skin will knit itself together soon enough. But as he walks, a steady dripping of blood blots the snow beside him. He raises his hand and stares at his palm, befuddled: the wound has not healed. A storm of emotions crowds his mind all at once at the realisation - curiosity, worry, a profound relief - but the wound throbs, demanding attention. He wraps it with a piece of his ragged coat, the chill stinging at its edges, and he hikes forward with lighter steps when he sees smoke on the horizon.

The village is... strange. The houses seem alien to him, constructed in precise but foreign shapes and sizes, and his eyes pass over several items he has never seen before. Curiosity compels him, but the cold is starting to pierce through his armor of indifference, so he follows the smoke to the larger building. Outside, he lingers for several minutes, sure that his visage will cause an upset with these strangers - but the blood is seeping through the bandage on his hand, and the pain has reached a high enough pitch to overwhelm his anxiety enough for him to finally walk inside.

The old man who greets him there makes his hollow chest ache. He reminds him of his long-gone friend who had welcomed him with a similar open kindness, though his man is much less forthright with explanations. While he accepts the offer of hospitality, he notices that this place is crowded with people, and his instinct is to shy away from them all - yet, he cannot exile himself back out into the chill while cocooned by this place's warmth. He stays to the side of the room, face hidden behind his black covering, eyeing the food as his stomach pangs with hunger, but every time he resolves to approach the table, his anxiety reigns supreme, causing him to skitter away.

It's only when he sees a drop of his blood stain the floor that he gathers the courage to approach the nearest stranger and finally seek help. He towers over most people, and he knows he looks frightful, but he's timid as he approaches, hunched over to make himself as unthreatening as possible. Being constantly hunted is an exhausting existence, and he only wants a small reprieve from it while here. )

Pardon me. ( The voice muffled behind the mask is low and full of gravel, but soft, tentative. His eyes don't meet the other's, instead staring at their ankles. ) Do you know where I could find bandages?

THE ICE CAVES

( Waking from the darkness of death is nothing new to him, but this instance is particularly strange, as he has no memory of dying. Neither does he recognize his surroundings: a cavernous abode, walls slicked with ice, yet somehow dimly lit with an ethereal glow. As he gets to his feet, his eyes find the source of the mystical illumination, and he is fascinated by the mushrooms instantly. He wants to take a step forward and inspect them, but a growl in the dark stops him where he stands.

Always the hungry wolves, waiting in the shadows to find their next meal. He watches carefully as they slink into the light, three of them, their haunches raised, their teeth bare. He has survived wolves before, but his wounds do not heal in this place like they should, and that should give him pause. Still, fear does not properly grip him until the moment he realizes that he's not alone.

As the wolves encroach, he notices that he is not their only target. There is another here, a stranger, and a queer but overwhelming panic immediately seizes him, coursing adrenaline through his veins.

He lost his last companion to the merciless teeth of wolves; he will not lose another. )

Go! Run! ( He bellows at the stranger, then stands to face the three wolves that stand only a few paces away. Then, he throws his arms back, and he roars. )

WILDCARD

[ throw me something! ]

arrival, I am so sorry in advance

[brushoff]

Good God, you need to do something with that hair, [ Dorian dryly responds, as he looks up at the Creature. Daylight is scant in the months of December and in the twilight and night, Dorian is thriving. He looks like the young, attractive, whole person he should be. And, unlike the Creature, his hair looks like it's been regularly shampooed.

It's a bit hard trying to melt water enough to wash one's hair, but Dorian has always been the sort of man to care about his image, to care about the carefully crafted idea of Dorian Gray he puts out into the world. It's hard to melt water to wash his hair but dammit, he's going to melt water to wash his hair.

He's also going to judge people who haven't washed recently. Traipsing across the Arctic to draw out your maker isn't an excuse! Use some product! ]

But yes, there's a supply closet here with some bandages. Follow me, [ said as Dorian starts to walk towards a closet, walking like he expects to be followed and he expects the crowd to part for him. ] I'm afraid we're a bit shot when it comes to actual doctors—if you're bleeding so much that it requires stitches, good luck. You're most likely to end up with a scar.

[ Which, based on the tone in Dorian's voice, is truly a fate worse than death. Traces of being wounded? Something to mar his good looks? Gross. ]

Lt. Ari Tayrey | Original | OTA

[astrogator]

[ooc: Hi all! I miss this game and I'm hoping to bring her back. She remembers everything from her last stay here. Previous CR and new both very welcome to tag!]

1. [Re]Arrival

[This isn't the first time that Arilanna Tayrey awakes face-down in the snow on a bitterly cold planet. She feels it before she even opens her eyes, the cold seeping into her bones, leaving her sluggish. It would be very, very easy just to go back to sleep. To turn off that little alarm sounding in the back of her mind, and give in the ice-white blanket around her.

She doesn't, of course. She resists, because she was trained better than that, and because while all of this is strange, none of it is new. Tayrey gets to her feet, snatching up her bright blue wool coat that is once again inexplicably lying beside her, and pulling it on while her muscles protest. Milton. It has to be Milton again. If it isn't Milton again, probability itself is sentient and hates Arilanna Tayrey, she tells herself. She has to proceed as if there's shelter out there, not so very far. She walks, and walks, until she finds a trail.

Those who knew Tayrey before will see her changed for the better. Over the months she had grown thin and sallow, but she's now the picture of health. The worn, patched uniform that hung far too loosely on her frame has been traded in for a perfect tailored fit, brilliant blue and silver. Tayrey would pass for an officer out of one of the recruiting holovids, if not for all the snow.

That doggedly determined look on her face hasn't changed a bit, though. Seeing someone up ahead, she quickens her pace.]

2. Methuselah's Feast

[Tayrey greets Methuselah like an old friend. There's something almost giddy in her manner. She accepts a mug of hot coffee, but no food, and she speaks loudly, almost to herself.]

I know not to trust the food here. I know what this is, you eat dead things. I had to go to such lengths last time-

[Her trade route. Her stores. Are they still here? She can't blame anyone for raiding them; if she was gone she was as good as dead, and the dead don't need food and supplies. It would have been foolish not to break into her house and take them - but she finds herself hoping she's among fools. Starting again will be a real trial.

Tayrey takes a long sip from her coffee mug. At least the coffee is safe. Someone's looking at her, and whether she knows them already or not, she's going to be polite.]

Peace and prosperity to you.

[The perfect greeting for all occasions.]

3. Just a Song

[It turns out that telling a creepy horse skull that it has no contract with you and no authorisation to enter your home doesn't count if you don't sing it. Ari Tayrey didn't play along with the strange game at all. Now she's paying the price.]

Prosperity and Peace!

[That's the greeting she offers, and to most it might not sound any stranger than what she intended to say, but the young lieutenant is horrified, her gloved hand flying to her lips.]

That say to mean not did I!

[Her eyes are wide with panic. Tayrey's brave enough to face down physical threat without flinching, but this? This feels like her own mind betraying her, her own voice refusing to obey her will. It's worse than any wolves.]

Wrong is something. [Flatly. Emphatically. That, at least, should be understood.]

arrival!

[sputnik]

( People sometimes come back. But not... often enough for it to seem probable. If anything, it's an anomaly if it happens. It's not a concept that can be relied on, and therefore not a concept that one should hope for.

It doesn't mean that Konstantin ever gave up on the idea of seeing the young lieutenant again. But it does mean that he never truly thought he would. It means that in the months since she suddenly vanished, the way Kieren, Fraser, and Svetlana did, it's felt like she died. It's been a deep heaviness in the cosmonaut's heart, and one he used to do anything possible to avoid. Getting attached to people was never a good idea, could only lead to the pain of loss or the burden of commitment. But these days, he finds himself a bit changed. These days, he actively misses Tanya, and the people who have vanished from this place, and he worries about losing Vasiliy. These days, he keeps them in his heart instead of at a distance, even if it aches.

He's out near the woods, the way he often is now. Two of Enola's "gifts" live inside of him now, and combined, they have him feeling stronger, faster, better than he ever has. It's very reminiscent of what he might feel like in the longer term back home, with the alien's influence. The only difference is that it still can't heal him here, so he does still have to be careful not to get hurt too badly, but he's never been one to play it safe. He heads out on his own a lot, keeps busy.

Today he's on a hike, indulging in his inhuman stamina. He's heading back down from some higher slopes when he sees movement up ahead, on the trail leading back into town. Konstantin quirks a brow; it's rare to come across people way out here, especially since the days have grown so dark, with winter looming and pressing inwards. It's bitterly cold; even with his resilience he knows that, all bundled up against the wind chill and making sure his core is kept as warm as possible for the parasite. There's a warm rabbit-fur ushanka on his head as well, freshly crafted, and from a distance it might be hard to tell who he is.

But he recognises her. The crisp uniform, the severe set to her expression; she doesn't look lost the way most new Interlopers do, but rather determined. Konstantin's breath freezes for a moment and he stares, taken aback. It's really her, there's no doubt about that, but is she the same young lieutenant he knew before? Does she remember him? Or maybe this is one of this place's many cruel tricks: conjure up one of his ghosts. He moves towards her anyway because of course he does, there's no choice to be made to that at all, eyes wide. )

Tayrey?

Felix Terzi | Original

[formula3]

1. Arrival

[He'd thought he was fainting. There were strange lights, and then his vision swam, blackness crowding in from the edges, and Felix's last remembered thoughts were how embarrassing it was doing this on camera and how Marco was going to insist he went to the hospital instead of celebrating.

Felix wakes not on the ground outside the garage, nor even in a hospital bed, but in what looks to his inexpert eyes very much like an oldtimey log cabin.]

Che cazzo!

[He sits up. It's freezing, and the thin layers of his racing outfit aren't helping much. Through the window he can see snowdrifts. He can't go out there. He'll freeze to death wearing fireproof underwear, and that's probably ironic, and he's definitely not going to let it happen. Instead, he starts ransacking the cabin, because whoever brought him here - wherever here is - wouldn't have done it just to let him die. Not even his championship rivals.

There's nothing useful. Nothing. Not even matches to start fires. His search grows ever more frantic, the exertion keeping his body warm. He flings open bare cupboards, roots through old boxes. Still nothing. Having exhausted that strategy, Felix knows he has to find another. He watches at the window, waiting, until finally he sees a figure outside. Then, and only then, does Felix open the cabin door.

He had thought he was cold before, but with that door open it hits him like a wall. It almost takes his breath away. There's no time to focus on the discomfort. His life depends on it. Felix starts waving his arms and yelling at the top of his voice.]

Hey! Over here! Help!

2. Methuselah's Feast

I don't get it.

[Felix is in warmer clothes now, multiple layers of them, with a blanket over his shoulders, but he's kept his old Casella-branded baseball cap on. In one hand he's holding an oddly shaped steering wheel covered in buttons. It's his. He found it on the way in. Another inexplicable thing.]

I got teleported to - where even is this? Milton, Alaska? I don't belong here. I'm an interloper, whatever that means. I almost died in the cold. If this is some supernatural bullshit, why me?

[He accepts the explanation readily enough. Supernatural happenings don't make sense, but what else could it be? Aliens? The FBI? He's just some guy who races cars, there's no reason for anyone to want him involved in... in whatever this is.

Still with that steering wheel clutched in one hand, he sits down at a table, a bowl of soup already in front of him. Felix stares at it for a few seconds, but then picks up his spoon and starts eating. He doesn't need his nutrition coach here to tell him that he needs the calories.]

3. Just a Song

a. [Felix has taken to carrying around a bag filled with googly eyes. Whenever more appear, as they almost constantly do in his vicinity, he picks them up and puts them in the bag with the others.]

Have you seen this? It's an infinite googly eyes hack.

[Like he's stuck in a video game - which Felix doesn't believe, of course, but it's no more crazy than some of the other possibilities.]

b. [It is raining confetti on Felix's head. A pile of it builds up on the top of his cap, then falls down onto his shoulders like exceptionally colorful dandruff, and then, if he doesn't brush it off himself, to the floor. This is a new level of supernatural bullshit, but Felix is doing his very best not to let it bother him. The trouble is, his latest tactic for this is bothering someone else. Grabbing a big handful of the stuff, he lies in wait and throws it over the next person to come through the community hall door. Surprise?]

c. Look at this. Look. A real Apex Protein Bar.

[You can almost hear the capital letters as Felix waves the brightly-packaged bar in your face.]

It was there, on my bed when I woke up. Listen, this has to mean something. They're one of my biggest sponsors back home.

[Not that Felix knows what it might mean. Insane reality TV show by Apex Protein can't possibly be the answer.]

arrival!

[chogsu]

( Ben never thought he would ever prefer being a ghost to being alive, but right now it's tempting to wish he was back to his usual state. Dead. Because having a corporeal form in this kind of atmosphere is pretty much torture. How do living people do this??

Of course, they probably dress in clothing a lot hardier than what he currently has on, at least if they live around here. A hoodie + leather jacket combo, black jeans, and boots aren't exactly enough to weather this kind of cold. Ben tucks his hands deep into his pockets, shoulders scrunched up as he shudders violently. The trouble is, he's not sure anyone does live around here. So far he hasn't come across any living soul. No sign of Klaus, either. He's well and truly alone, and it's... it's a horrifying thought. Is this the afterlife? Some kind of Hell?

Which is why, when he hears a voice and snaps his head around to see an actual human being leaning out of a cabin door, he immediately feels a rush of desperate relief, and he's also immediately heading over. There's an odd jolt of awareness that the person has to have seen him to be calling out to him like that — which proves he's no longer just a ghost — but right now he just needs to get over there. Ben hurries as fast as he's able, tromping through the snow and shaking as he approaches the young man. He's alarmed but also can't hide his relief, mouth split into a grin that trembles at the edges, due to the chill and some of his own nerves. (How is this happening? How is he real again?) )

Hey! Oh man, you don't know how glad I am to see you! I thought I was all alone out here.

the Fifth Doctor | Doctor Who

[apiaceae]

arrival
This is not where he planned to be. Granted, the Doctor's learned by now that 'planning to go somewhere' and 'actually going somewhere' aren't exactly mutually exclusive. But England doesn't usually have multiple inches of snow and doesn't smell aggressively of pine trees. And, as the Doctor pushes himself up off of the ground, brushing the snow off the back of his legs and his coat, he muses that England isn't usually this remote either.

There's a handful of things that interest him about this place. But most is that voice he heard, ringing through the back of his skull. An Interloper. Not part of nature's design.

Well, you didn't have to tell him something he already knew. And that voice certainly didn't have to be so dramatic about it.

The Doctor seems to be remarkably nonplussed, not at all caring about the fact that he's in a completely new landscape in a completely new situation. Par for the course, at this rate. No, what he cares about is the fact that he's alone. So as he makes his way through the woods, shivering slightly in the cold, passersby can hear a British accented voice call out,

"Tegan? Turlough? Are you there?"

methusalah's feast
This has gone from interesting to very interesting. Because as he warms himself by the fire, the Doctor realizes that he's cold. He shouldn't be cold. A little temperature drop like this is easily weathered by your average Gallifreyan...and yet, here he is. Cold. Cold and...muffled, for lack of a better word. He can feel his heartbeats, of course, his pulse feels normal. But this entire situation feels like he's trying to view the world through frosted glass or smudged up glasses. He can navigate, of course. He can see everything and figure out what's going on. But it's odd. Difficult.

"Fascinating," he murmurs to himself, as he lightly stirs his soup with his spoon. Bringing his soup to his mouth, the Doctor takes a little sip, before striking up a conversation with the person next to him. I'm sorry, where you planning on eating by yourself? Not now, it's chit-chat time.

"You wouldn't happen to know what year it is, would you? Obviously this is Earth. But I haven't gotten enough information to establish something as simple as a basic timeline."

just a song
This is fun! And frankly, the Doctor's overdue a bit of fun. He happily yaps with the horse, going back and forth via rhyme for a frankly long bit of time. But in the end, the horse wins out. And as the Doctor goes to congratulate the being on it's rhyming prowess...confetti instantly falls out of the air, directly on his head.

Hmm. That's odd.

The Doctor tries to go about his day: chopping wood, poking around abandoned houses, trying to look for long underwear because someone is stubbornly wearing his cricketer's uniform and also is annoyingly colder than he expected. But as he goes about his day, every time he walks over to someone and opens his mouth to say hello or to ask for a simple request, a large pile of confetti dumps itself over his head.

It's in one of these confetti dumps that the confetti gets in the Doctor's mouth and he awkwardly starts to splutter a moment. After spitting out the last of the confetti, he can't help but lightly grumble, "Honestly, it's hardly my fault that I didn't have any drink to give the beast—if it would even take drink to begin with. There are a few aspects of that creature that are different from what I expected."

Doctor, why are you talking about this beast like you expect everyone to know what the hell you're talking about. Context, buddy.

Methuselah's Feast

[astrogator]

Tayrey might look as if she knows what's happening here. That smart blue uniform of hers screams professionalism. But in some respects she's even more clueless than some of the others. She sets down the mug of coffee that she's been nursing, and turns towards her new neighbour.

'Local time? I couldn't tell you,' she admits. She had been told the year the last time she was here, probably, but it was an utterly irrelevant piece of information to her, one she wouldn't have committed to memory.

It's a truthful answer, but she suspects it's a wholly unsatisfactory one. To soften it, she carries on: 'You're right, this is Earth, but it's - way out-of-sector, for me. Earth wasn't even on our maps. From what I can tell, I'm not even in the right galaxy.' Which explains, hopefully, why she's so unhelpful.

'Are you an Earther?' she asks. Most of the people here seem to be, but the fact that he's commenting on it suggests that at the very least he's more aware of civilisations outside his local system than the majority.

george hodgson | the terror | current player

[manges]

note: open to both newcomers / current cr / anyone currently in game!

⚓ the ice caves

[ He's first to awaken in the dark, cold damp — blinking furiously against the dim light that's offered around them. George gets to his feet carefully, fumbling around for his rifle and breathing a sigh of relief when his fingers find it on the ground. He does not know this place, does not know how he came to be here — it is much like how he first came to be in this world. He does not like it.

He listens to the soft sound of a terrible behemoth breathing. Almost as if it sleeps fitfully. George is quiet, shuddering as he listens. In his heart, he wonders if it is the beast once again. It cannot be, surely. The sound is different. But he if he and so many of the men of the Expedition have passed into this place — what is to say the creature has not followed them here too?

But there is another kind of breathing near to him, much more gentler and familiar. Human. He creeps to the source, keeps himself low and alert as he moves. Another person, though he cannot quite tell who, at first. He kneels down, a hand reaching for their shoulder to give them a very gentle shake — trying to rouse them. ]

Can you hear me?

⚓ just a song

[ It is far too busy to find his way over to the piano during the Feast their elderly host has thrown for them. He waits until the crowds have dwindled, when those who have found themselves here have largely moved on to find a dwelling to call their own — and the long-term residents have returned home.

Perhaps it is the time of year, perhaps it is the melancholy that slowly leaves him as he spends more time amongst friends — the nightmare he leaves behind.

Or perhaps it is the shower of confetti that falls above his head, appearing from thin air and coating his head and shoulders. He does not wish to think of the strange skeletal horse that blew past him following his lost game.

But he sits down at the piano, testing a few keys here and there. Finally, he gives in and begins playing God Rest Ye, Merry Gentleman at a slow, even tempo. Thank heavens that despite it all, he may be blessed to keep all ten of his fingers. ]

ice caves

[friendsfordinner]

[ Considering he's bundled up in the best modern era clothes he's stolen from various houses, it's easy to ignore that Hickey is Hickey at first glance. Who's this man bundled up for the winter, lying on the floor slightly asleep? Hard to tell until Hodgson shakes him awake, the man rolls over to make his stupid little beard visible and oh goddammit, it's Hickey.

To be fair, Hickey's thought process is also 'oh goddammit,' though he's disparaging that he's stuck in a mystery cave with Hodgson of all people. First Fitzjames, now Hodgson, why does this place like shoving him in caves with people who can't stand him? Hickey lets out a very irritated groan as he gets to his feet, stretching like a cat who's just woken up from a nap. ]

Didn't we do this already? I've already been trapped in a cave with an officer. This place is running out of ideas.

[ Despite how visibly, noticeably irritated he is, Hickey tries not to let it show in his voice. He keeps his tone casual, like this totally isn't something to worry about and he's totally got it under control. ]