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

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."

[consistentpatterns]

That sure is a look. (Not that Nancy can talk, given she’s rocking her own look. A little more 1980s than 1880s, though.) She’s not paying MUCH attention to that right now, although she’s noting it and filing it away, because there’s more important things to focus on. “This happens a lot, here?” she asks. Because he’s talking like it’s happened at least more than once.

“And there’s sometimes instructions written on the cave walls? That’s… useful.” Nancy shrugs. “Then we might as well start looking.” It’s a place to start, at least.

[friendsfordinner]

"Good place as any to start," Hickey shrugs. He turns his attention to the walls, squinting at the glow. Which, as he looks at the glow, he can't help but point out,

"This is new, though. This on the walls? Haven't seen it before."

There's an exit to the current cave they're in. Based on the glowing walls, it's probably more cave, but Hickey heads towards it anyway, hoping that Nancy will follow...and absolutely missing the faint growl that's coming from the area he's currently walking towards.

[consistentpatterns]

She wonders if glowing walls are a good sign or a warning. But maybe she’s just paranoid after the Upside Down. And the ending up somewhere strange when she was standing on a hill just seconds before.

Follow Nancy does… only to hear the faint growl that her companion is missing, and she reaches out to grab his arm and try to pull him to a stop. “I don’t think we want to go that way. Unless something growling is a good thing, here?”

[friendsfordinner]

“Could be a wolf,” Hickey answers. “That might be good, depending on who it is—probably bad, though.”

Does this new person know that people can turn into wolves? Shit. She might not. Hickey looks back at Nancy before bluntly explaining,

“People can turn into wolves here. Is there another way out of this cave?”

[consistentpatterns]

Okay, yeah. THAT catches Nancy a little off guard. “Seriously? Just… turn into wolves? Like… werewolves? ” She takes a deep breath, adding that little tidbit of information to what she’s learning about this place. “Nevermind. It’s not the weirdest thing I’ve heard.” Or experienced. “But it’s good to know.”

There are more important things to focus on, anyway. Like getting out of this cave. And avoiding the probably not a friendly wolf. “I’m not sure. But I think I saw another path back that way.” She indicates it with a tilt of her head, even as she’s starting to move in that direction. This time it’s her turn to hope he’s going to follow.

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?”

[consistentpatterns]

Nancy almost drops her bowl of stew when she hears a familiar, impossible voice saying her name, looking up in shock and surprise at him. She thinks maybe she shouldn’t be, though. With as weird as this place is proving to be, why can’t a dead friend show up incredibly NOT dead? Or maybe she’s finally lost her mind. They’ve been through enough back home that it wouldn’t exactly be out of place.

She’s leaning towards the weirdness explanation. She’d rather he be real. Rather he be alive. After everything that’s happened. It’d be really nice.

So she tightens her grip on her bowl of stew and scooches over to make room on the cot for him if he wants to join her. He might want to sit down for this, she thinks. “I can catch you up, yeah,” she tells him. She just wishes she had better news for him.

[satanicpanics]

Eddie had only really known Nancy for a week—at least as her own person and not just a vague connection to her kid brother, but that’s more than enough to tell him that it takes a lot to rattle her. He’s lived the last year out here, wrestling with the uncertainty of his fate back home, having nothing but assumptions and worries, but Nancy’s reaction to seeing him…he rattled her, and that gives him just about all the confirmation he needs.

“Shit,” he mumbles, more to himself than anyone else as he drops down beside her on the cot. His fingers twist together as his gazes shifts to the middle distance, like all his answers could possibly be found there.

“Yeah, so,” he begins, keeping his tone even. “I’m gonna go out on a limb and say I didn’t make it out, to start.”

[consistentpatterns]

Shit. She hadn’t expected for him to not KNOW. Then again, she hadn’t expected him to be alive. So. She leans her shoulder against his, though. Trying to reassure him. “No. You didn’t.” And there is sorrow, grief, in the back of her throat as she confirms it for him. And continues. Telling him what had happened. “It was going okay. Until it wasn’t. Until it all went to hell.” Which is putting it mildly.

“And then it got worse. You…” Nancy can’t bring herself to say the word died. She should be able to, but saying it to his face? She can’t. “Protected Dustin.” He needs to know everything. “And Max died. Just long enough for it to count. Just long enough for Vecna to finish what he’d started. I think we hurt him enough slow him down. But the gates still opened. And two days later the Upside Down started to bleed into Hawkins. Ash falling from the sky, and red lightning over a decaying field.”

She'd been watching it, literally seconds before she'd found herself here.

[satanicpanics]

“Well…that fucking sucks.”

He frowns, eyebrows knitting together as he utters the understatement of the year. He really has suspected it for a long time, and maybe it’s something of a relief to finally know for sure, but it doesn’t suddenly make it good news. It opens up a whole new world of worries, but he does his best to tamp it all down, scrubbing his face with his hands and willing himself to keep it together while Nancy continues. He’d asked, and now he needs to listen.

He does a pretty decent job, but he nearly loses it when he hears the words Max died. His head snaps up, but Nancy doesn’t pause. Just long enough for it to count. What does that mean?

“But Mayfield is okay? Like—she’s alive?,” he asks, uncertain. He can’t see that kid going down without a hell of a fight. “And—the town? Did anyone else…?”

He shouldn’t give a shit. He knows that. Half the town hated him for merely existing, and he should feel no empathy for them, but he does, and that’s a hell of a flaw if you ask him.

[consistentpatterns]

“Yeah.” Understatement and a HALF. But it sums it up pretty decently all the same. And Nancy hates that she was the one to tell him. About that. About everything. And there’s more she has to tell.

She sighs. “I don’t know about okay. She’s alive. But in a coma.” Which… isn’t great. And there’s so much… tiredness and sadness and worry in her voice for a minute. Before she continues. Answering his questions.

“The town is. Mostly still standing. Sort of. Not without… losses.” Casualties. “Less than you might expect after… everything. But enough. Too many.” And they don’t know what’s happening. What’s coming next. Just that something IS coming.

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.

[consistentpatterns]

Nancy raises an eyebrow at him over the rim of her stew bowl. “Yes,” he says. Nothing more. Nothing less. Because she’s not here for any judgemental bullshit. Not after the last… however long it’s been. A week, maybe? Which has ended in a kidnapping to somewhere in Canada, apparently.

Although she’s pretty sure it’s not HER Canada. Everything looks a little too… different. Like the TVs. And cars. Even if none of them work.

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.”

[consistentpatterns]

Nancy appreciates the reassurances, even if she’s still a little wary as he approaches her. It’s been a LONG week. Sister? It doesn’t really matter, though, so she answers his question instead. “I have, yeah,” she tells him with a lopsided smile. “I don’t suppose you know where we are, do you?” Because this definitely isn’t Hawkins. At least, not any Hawkins she knows.

She’ll take the cloak thankfully, though. She’s definitely not dressed for anything like this, and she’s FREEZING. “Thanks. I appreciate it.”

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.

[consistentpatterns]

Okay. The wolf thing is NEW. Maybe not the weirdest thing, she’s kind of used to weird things. But it’s new. It’s definitely new.

Shapeshifting. Huh.

Nancy looks up from her pile of blankets as he says something, giving him a little lopsided smile. “That obvious?”

[wolf_lover]

"Yeah. I did the whole 'curl up and just lie there' thing for a while when I first got here. At least you're doing it in a smarter way than I did." Connor laughs lightly. At least now he can see the funny side of what had been a very traumatizing experience at the time. "I chose to have my mental breakdown out there in the snow and curl up on the ground in a tux. Probably would have frozen to death if my dad hadn't come along and rescued me."

He sits down at the edge of the cot. "My name's Connor Wolf. What's yours?"

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.

[consistentpatterns]

[Absolutely!]


Nancy’s a little thrown off by hearing her brother’s voice without hearing her brother’s voice. It’s not the weirdest thing, but it is the weirdest thing RIGHT NOW. Well. Tied for weirdest. She’s going to follow it, for lack of a better word. Try and find him. Unless she’s hearing things. But you’d think that if she was going to hallucinate hearing her brother’s voice she’d be hearing it-hearing it. Not hearing it in her head.

It's not until she sees a figure that she picks up the pace. And yeah, she’s going to be shouting his name.

“MIKE!”

[micycle]

It doesn't register for a moment, muffled as it is through the layers of winter wear bundled up over Mike's head. Once the faint shout makes it through, though, Mike pauses, hurrying to shove the earmuffs off of his ears. They take his wool cap with them, knocking both items down into the snow as he looks around for the source of the voice. Someone in need of help, he assumes, out here on the road beyond town. An animal attack, or a slip in the ice.

When he sees his sister, his mind goes blank of everything else. The sled's pull rope slips from his hand, and he moves the best that he can to meet her. It's only a few steps, stiff on what's clearly an injured leg, but he'd burst into a sprint if he could.

"Nancy!" There's an unusual tone in his voice, more excited than he usually is at seeing her. Even with a scarf pulled over the lower half of his face, his grin is practically audible. "Jesus, Nancy, you're here?!"

[consistentpatterns]

It’s okay. Nancy can – and DOES – break into an all-out run. Because holy SHIT her brother’s here. (Okay, yeah, she’s not super pleased about that, but also she’s really glad to see a familiar face.) She practically slides to a stop in front of him, nearly slipping in the snow. “Yeah,” she says, a little breathless. “I am.” And she has a lot of questions about that. “Just got here. Sort of… woke up in the snow?”

[micycle]

Before Nancy is done speaking the last of her words, a pair of skinny arms are wrapping around her, tugging into a fierce hug. There's a desperation to it that's never been there at home, as if he's afraid she'll disappear if he doesn't hold on tight enough. The crutch falls to the ground, thumping dully in the snow at their feet.

"Holy shit." It's muffled into her hair, just as his own - a wild tangle, curling down his neck - is making a strong attempt to smother Nancy. "Holy fucking shit, Nance."

Oh, yeah. More than just his hair is worse.

As soon as he does pull back, it's to start unwrapping the heavy scarf from around his neck, and pulling down the neck gaiter beneath it. Under all the layers it looks like he hasn't slept in weeks, even in this stretch of permanent night, but his grin almost uncharacteristically bright.

"Here, take-" He pushes the scarf toward her, and gets to work on unzipping his outermost coat. "And this. You're gonna die of hypothermia before we even get to town."