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

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.

[somethingtosay]

Lucy turns towards the sound of a voice, relieved to HEAR a voice, that she can’t help but wear it on her face. Relief, and reassurance. She’s always been a social butterfly, most Covey are, and here, where it’s cold and there hasn’t been a sign of anyone since she left the cabin, to see someone else is maybe the best thing ever. He’s maybe the best thing she’s ever seen. Her face lights up and she starts towards him, meeting him half way.

“You’re the first person I’ve seen,” she tells him, reaching out to touch his arm. “I don’t suppose you have any idea where we are?” Probably not, she thinks. There doesn’t seem to be a lot of answers out here. But maybe he’s been luckier than her. It wouldn’t be hard. She hasn't had much luck since she'd gotten reaped.

(She wonders if she needs to still play the game here, or if she can breathe a little. Stop playing the part she’s needed to play to survive the Games.)

[chogsu]

She can see him. Holy shit. And hear him, and— touch him. Ben's eyes grow as wide as saucers as the young woman brightens up, reaches out to make contact with his arm, and he can feel it, staring down at her hand with some mix of surprise and awe.

He hasn't felt human touch in... a very, very long time. The brief little corporeal blips with his brother don't count, not really. In and out again like a lightbulb flickering on and off before fizzling out into darkness. But right now? He's real.

"N-no, I uh, I don't think so," he answers the question, yanking himself back to the question she asks him, forcing himself to focus and not just keep staring at her with fascination like some kind of lunatic. You can do this, Ben. Talk to a human being again after decades of being dead. It's fine!

"Sorry, I know that's like, no help at all." He gives a grin, a little shy and hapless at the same time. "This is all so strange. I feel like I might be dreaming."

[somethingtosay]

That reaction to her hand on his arm, like he hasn’t been touched in a long time, like he’s so surprised by it makes her heart ache a little. Makes her wonder what his life’s been like, that the touch of her hand on his arm makes him react like that.

“That’s all right,” she tells him, smiling back at him and impulsively slipping her arm through his if he’ll let her. “We’ll figure it out together. Safety in numbers.” For the first time since the reaping, it feels like it’s safe to be around other people. She doesn’t have to run, and hide and kill. At least not yet. And hopefully not ever again.

This place can’t be any worse than where she’s been, right?

[chogsu]

Ben doesn't mind the closeness — not at all. In fact, even if he barely knows what to do with it, with the fact he can be touched somehow, every fibre of his being wants to lean into that touch both metaphorically and literally. After just a moment's hesitation, figuring out how this works, he lets his arm curl back around the other's, securing them both a bit more together like that.

It does make him feel shy all over again, but it's a nice feeling. A pleasant thing, warm. It's a feeling he immediately wants to hold onto for as long as he can.

"Together," he agrees, trying out the word, and then he smiles at her again. "I like that plan. I'm Ben, by the way."

[somethingtosay]

Her arm tightens around his. Wherever they’re going, at least they’re not alone in it. (She doesn’t want to admit how nice it is. To not have to be constantly pretending. Constantly fighting. She still might. But right now, here… she can breathe. In a way she hasn’t since the arena.)

“I’m Lucy Gray,” she tells him. “I’m real glad to meet you, Ben. Although it sure would have been nice to meet under different circumstances. Less snowy ones at least.” And speaking of… She tips her head up and looks at him. “Are you cold? I think there’s plenty of space in this ol’ coat of mine for you to squeeze on in. Might be a little awkward, but at least we won’t freeze.” It’s made for someone a whole lot larger than she is. “If you put one of your arms in a sleeve, and I keep mind in the other we might be able to pull it off.”

just a song

[simplyam]

( He had heard music before, that strange sound humans could make with their throats, but nothing like this. He had read of songs and instruments in his stories, but he only ever heard a hummed tune every once in a while from the people he had quietly tried to protect, hiding in that house at the summit of the mountains. He had treasured those gifts deeply - but if those tunes were a trickle of rain, then this woman was a waterfall.

Watching, mesmerized by the rich sound that erupts from her voice and the instrument she plays, he's even more enchanted when pieces of colorful paper erupt from around her. He had never read of magic like this, not even in storybooks. Were all musicians so blessed, or is it a side effect of this strange place?

When the woman finishes, the others in the room slap their hands together, and he remembers that this is an expression of celebration and gratitude for such a performance, so he slowly puts his hands together - though, not fast enough to emit any kind of noise. Evidently, he still needs some practice. As the clapping dies down, he finds he can't stop staring at the instrument this woman carries, curious about how such a strangely-shaped implement could create those sounds. )

Excuse me. ( He keeps his distance as he asks, aware of his looming and intimidating appearance, but a childlike fascination is on his expression as he points to the machine she's holding and asks: ) What sort of instrument is that?

[somethingtosay]

[There’s such a variety of people, here. It almost reminds her of before, before home had gotten so dark and they’d been caged in 12. Almost reminds her of family.

He’d be hard to miss, as would the way he keeps his distance. So polite. But she’s more at ease here than she’s been in… too long, and she’s not afraid. Not of him, not of this place. How could she be afraid of him when he took such care when speaking to a stranger?

She smiles brightly up at him, unslinging her guitar (and looking it over for any stray bits of confetti that had managed to slip past her and into it as she does).] Well, darling, this is a guitar.

[And more bits of confetti. At this rate she’s starting to wonder if it’s ever going to stop.]

Not the only stringed instrument out there, but certainly my favorite.

[simplyam]

( At this lady's open kindness, the creature realizes that a part of him he had thought lost forever might still live. Despite the horrors and the heartbreak this world has made him endure, a spark of childlike curiosity emerges from the icy cold of his center he thought had long been smothered.

When she holds the instrument in her hands, his hands reach out without conscious choice, wonder painting his expression as his fingers linger over the strings. His movements are gentle, slow, but he does not touch the guitar. His deep, gravel-soaked voice somehow sounds incredibly young when he asks: ) How... does it work?

( As more colorful paper suddenly appears, he looks up to try and find the mysterious source, his giddy inquisitiveness only further spurred. ) Is your... guitar making these colors?

apologies I know nothing about guitars XD

[somethingtosay]

[She smiles even more brightly up at him. She’ll happily talk music with just about everyone. Especially if she’s introducing someone to her guitar. ] It’s just a matter of strings and frets, darling. You pluck a string and it vibrates, and when you press on a fret [She indicates where they are on the guitar with a brush of her fingertips.] it changes the sound. Strumming the strings and pressing on the frets makes it all go together. Makes it into music.

[She laughs a little, shaking her head.] ‘Fraid not. That’s just me. Better than talking backwards, but it makes an awful mess. Sure is pretty, though. I think I made something mad, or it was just playful. I don’t rightly know. [She picks up a little handful of the confetti.] It’s just kind of here.

lol no worries!! this guy doesn't either

[simplyam]

( The lady keeps calling him that, darling, like he's not a monstrosity, and he silently relishes the sound of the word alongside the easy company. He's clearly enchanted by her explanation, watching her nimble fingers gesture at the strings, and he tilts his head from side to side as he examines the shape of the new instrument, the hole that the sound must emerge from. Then, he gently presses his hand to his own neck, an ancient memory of another kindness gifted to him returning. His fingers trace the edges of perfectly cut scars embedded on his throat, as if a vivisection had taken place there long ago. ) Strings... there are strange strings in our throats, too. Is that how we sing? Like the guitar.

( As more confetti falls, his giant hands reach out to catch a few that waft downwards. The bright colors and the manner in which they appear make no logical sense, just as he himself cannot be a product of reason. His lips pull upwards as his thumb brushes the fragile paper, wrapped in a distinct feeling that he is in a storybook. ) They are very pretty. Much like your music. You must be magic.

[somethingtosay]

[She smiles brightly at his words, although she can’t help but notice the scars on his throat as his fingers trace them. She does wonder. It’s none of her business, though. But she feels for him all the same.] That’s exactly it.

[Well that catches her by surprise. ] I’ve never been called magic, before. ‘Least not to my face, anyway. [Her eyes drift to the little handful of confetti she’s holding.] I suppose it is pretty, though. Even if I have to keep shaking it out of my guitar.

Just A Song

[ricochetingbullets]

If music soothes the savage beast, than it's no surprise that Dex's wolfdog Cy stops to listen when the two of them are passing by Lucy. Dex's own focus is on the three dead squirrels he's holding by their tails from one hand after a successful hunt. He's going to take them over to the Hall where he can get some help cooking them up. What he is also doing is stolidly ignoring the set of pointed dog ears that resemble those of a Belgian Malinois that are currently peeking out from his dirty blonde hair, swiveling this way and that as he catches sound in the air. When Cy stops ahead of him, his attention fully on the singer with the guitar, it causes Dex to pause for a while as well.

She's got a good voice once he stops too, Dex will admit that, but what really makes him stop is the confetti that's falling all around her as if adding a nice little dramatic flair to the performance. Once she stops, he nods to the girl. "You've got a nice voice." The words are said in a flat tone, almost no emotion to them. It's the same in his eyes, the hazel depths containing nothing in there that resembles the emotions that can be found in a normal human being. It's more like looking at a predatory wolf trying to pretend to be prey like the sheep around him so he can better fit in.

[somethingtosay]

Lucy Gray’s just going to… take that all in. She’d noticed him. It’d be hard not to, what with the wolf. And the… dog ears. She can’t really talk, though, can she. She looks like a festival, with the way confetti falls around her and tumbles from her mouth. Looks like she’s not the only one dealin’ with a change right now. Least he could hide his with a hat.

It’s hard not to notice that, too. The flat tone, the lack of emotions in his eyes. Doesn’t stop her from smiling brightly up at him, though. “Thanks, darlin’,” she says, setting her guitar aside (after shaking out the confetti that had fallen inside. Again). “Glad you enjoyed the show.” Least she still has her music, here.

[ricochetingbullets]

Those ears flick forward to the front when Lucy speaks and then go back to an 'at ease' position pointing off to either side once she stops. This promises to get very annoying in record time because the ears show off Dex's emotions a whole lot more than he's comfortable with, especially since there's no real way to control them. They seem to just run on instinct the way that a human being had a hard time controlling their eyes darting around to look at things.

He notes Lucy's accent. It reminds him of Raylan and Tim. Sounds like another person from the sticks has been brought here. Looks like that's starting to become something of a pattern. "You're new, right?"