December 2023 Test Drive Meme

[singmod]

DECEMBER 2023 TDM

PROMPT ONE — ARRIVAL: METHUSELAH'S FEAST: A new group of arrivals find themselves lost in the frozen wilds and vulnerable to the dangers of nature. With luck, they make it to the town of Milton, and to a friendly face offering food, warmth and shelter — not to mention the fact they are not the first to come here.

PROMPT TWO — MISTY FALLS CAVE: The Interlopers go out in search of a hidden cave in the mountains found by Methuselah, which may still contain the hidden stash of a doomsday prepper. However, they get a little more than they bargained for when they venture inside.

PROMPT THREE — SERPENT'S BREATH: Interlopers investigate the mysterious cause of whatever is killing and poisoning the wildlife and vegetation of the area — and discover a supernatural creature is behind it.

ARRIVAL: METHUSELAH'S FEAST

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

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

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

You awaken. You are not where you were before. It’s different for everyone, there doesn’t seem to be much of a pattern in where you find yourself. You may open your eyes to find yourself in a cold, dim and dank cabin. The air is stale, dust hangs in the rays of weak sunlight that shine through the tiny windows. Someone lived here once, but they aren’t to be found. You look around, it seems like no one has been here in a long time. The fire is cold, the dishes in the sink are pretty mouldy. It is quiet. The wood creaks around you. Or perhaps you may awaken to find yourself shivering in the yawning maw of a cave, the freezing stone below you. Or maybe you’re unfortunate enough to sit up to find yourself lying in the snow, in the middle of the wilderness. Snow lies thick around you. It’s freezing out. You haven’t felt a cold like this before in your entire life. Cruel and biting. You have no idea where you are, and what’s worse — you are completely alone.

You may feel different, too. Any powers or magics you may have feel... absent. Disconnected. Things that may not have affected you previously now do. Something in you has changed.

You know you can’t stay where you are. You’ll need to move, try to work out where you are and how you came to be here. So you walk, head out into the unknown, in hope of finding a trail or a road. You’ll find one soon enough. It’s here you may find someone else in the same boat as yourself, equally freezing and confused. You’ll both need to keep going. It won’t be easy. You hear howls of wolves around you, and the terrain is difficult: slips and falls are likely. You’re completely vulnerable out here in the open.

It’s possible you may come across someone here. Another fellow Interloper, 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. Civilisation…?

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 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.

Towards the center of town, you’ll find the building from which the biggest of the smoke trail rises: a school-house of sorts, or some kind of community hall. Perhaps both. You’ll find more and more people all drawn to this place, each and every one of them in the same position as yourself (and your companion, if you’ve found one). Some are in worse states than others: some are bloodied, nursing bite wounds or cuts; others might have some other kind of injury sustained in the journey here from falls. Others may look as if they could faint from the cold at any second.

The door opens, and you’re greeted by the gnarled, wizened face of an elderly man, dressed in thick furs. He has a kind face. He smiles warmly, and with pity, ushering you in with haste.

“Ah, even more, still. Just as I thought.” he muses. “I wonder if this is perhaps the new status quo. I am Methuselah. I welcome you Newcomer, although I’m sorry for how you’ve come to find yourself here. You are not the only one, the lights are changing things. They bring more of you every so often. 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, 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 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 and coffee, along with soup and stew and trays of charred deer and rabbit meats, plus grilled fish. There's also things like instant mashed potatoes, and tinned vegetables. It’s very basic, but it’s hot and filling. A feast, although newcomers will note from others who have been here some time that this particular feast is less bountiful this time.

Methuselah will continue to busy himself, still; there is plenty to do. He will fetch blankets, tend to wounds, serve food and drinks. He does not have much time to talk. More and more people seem to be coming in from the cold. He will not stop to sit and rest until everyone is seen to, taking up a place by the fire to gaze silently into its flames. He is troubled, thoughtful.

He will encourage newcomers to get warm and eat, and when they are ready to — they can explore the time and find one of the many empty homes to call their own. He will not speak much, but perhaps you might be able to get some answers from those fellow arrivals who’ve been in this place for some time now.

However, he will speak of something important, and will gladly share with others: “I have been looking for something for you all. There was once a townsfolk I knew of: Matthew. A suspicious, paranoid old miner who was interested in Prepping. He often spoke of the world coming to an end and strived to survive it. He often spoke of a cache hidden in the mountains, where he collected things of value. I have found the place, a hidden cave, but I am unable to get through, myself.”

… Well, he is an old man, after all.

“There are signs outside, so it is promising it is still intact. Perhaps the cache is still there. It might provide something useful for your growing numbers.”

MISTY FALLS CAVE

WHEN: Mid-month, onwards.
WHERE: Milton Outskirts.
CONTENT WARNINGS: booby traps; claustrophobic situations; potential injury/maiming; potential hyperthermic situations; exploration horror;


Methuselah gives directions to those willing to check out the lead for the old prepper cache. Following the river up from Milton Basin will lead to rugged, difficult pathways up towards Misty Falls — a waterfall, the river source itself. Most of the river is completely frozen with the freezing temperatures, but it is not completely so the closer to the source you go. Misty Falls is certainly idyllic, or it would be perhaps on a fine summer’s day — good for a nice hike. But the place looks desolate in the eternal winter cursing the Northern Territories.

The half-frozen waterfall is a din of sound, but the water itself is incredibly fresh and cooling for those hot and tired from the hike up. Those paying attention might notice a small space between the water and rock, big enough to squeeze through to get behind the waterfall itself. In the small space, the entrance to a small cave can be found. There are faded handmade signs, all in the same hand, reading ‘DANGER KEEP OUT’ and it isn’t too far of a stretch to wonder if perhaps this might be the secret stash of the old miner that Methuselah spoke of.

Venturing into the cave will not be an easy task. It seems the old miner was keen to keep any trespassers out, and most of this comes down to the cave itself. The walls of the cave quickly narrow, with only enough space to walk in single file. Jutting stone will easily make those stumble and trip. Occasionally the cave’s passage becomes narrower, meaning one might have to stoop or even crawl to carry on through. Here and there, the uneven floor dips, and your feet will find themselves in shin-deep frigid water. It’s slow-going, even if the actual passage itself isn’t incredibly long.

But perhaps the worst of all is the pressing darkness. A darkness so black even with lanterns switched off, one’s eyes cannot adjust to it. It is smothering, pressing. The air is stale and damp, you feel small — and the cave itself still presses in on you. The miner also kept a few tricks up his sleeve in order to keep out intruders. There are dead-ends, making it easy to get lost. Trip wires are hidden in the darkness, causing small man-made cave-ins to fall upon unsuspecting heads.

It might be safer, saner to give up and turn back. But persevering will see the cave opening up once more, this time widening into a room. The place is fashioned into some crude shelter. There is furniture, lanterns to be lit.

With more light, the miner’s stash is revealed: the painstaking, time-costing work of a paranoid old recluse. Crates of non-perishable foods, MREs, and bottled water. Medicines and basic medical supplies, flares and tools.

A perfect supply of survival goods, ripe for the taking.

SERPENT'S BREATH

WHEN: Throughout the month.
WHERE: The entirety of the Milton area.
CONTENT WARNINGS: mentions of dead animals; malevolent creature; snakes/serpents; poison/airborne toxins; potential poisonings; potential burn injuries; potential (temporary) blinding.


It’s noticed in different ways: perhaps a trail of dead animals stands before you, each one with no particular injury other than what appears to be burned hides and flesh — it is as if the wildlife simply dropped dead, for the most part. Perhaps you notice huge, tunnel-like grooves in the deepest parts of the snow, a few feet in width — as if something long and thick had made its way through to clear a path. More worryingly for some, they might notice trails of rot: destroyed trees, decaying plant life, as if the very earth itself has been scorched in the wake of something passing through, leaving nothing but destruction and devastation.

Something is destroying the flora and fauna of the world. There seems to be no pattern, simply the random trails all over the place. There appears to be no other tracks, other than the long, smooth tunnel-like pathways. Whatever it is, it must be stopped. Resources are so precious in this world, if the beast is allowed to continue then all who live here will soon starve due to lack of animals to hunt and plants to gather.

Following the tunnels is a sure-way to hunt the beast down, although these paths will lead far from town. It is best to go prepared. But soon enough, you may come across the slumbering beast, curled up on the snow or coiled underneath some jutting space of stone along the mountains. You’ll hear and smell it before you see it: the long grumbling snores as it sleeps, and the putrid stench of rot. Everything in you tells you to flee, much like when an animal senses something toxic, or poisoning.

You press on, finally stumbling across the beast: a long, serpent-like dragon, with tremendous horns and fangs, coloured with muted grey scales and huge, glowing, flamed eyes.

The element of surprise will work in your favour to try and kill the beast, but it will give up a good fight. It will take several rounds of fights with it before it will finally be taken down permanently. It moves quickly, with scales like steel. Its eyes and mouth are its weakest spots, as is the soft underbelly of its body — fire will work well on harming this beast, especially with a well aimed shot into its mouth.

Its open mouth is where it holds its most powerful weapon. Not the fangs, no. The very reason why the air smells of rot, why the wildlife lay dead, why the earth decays at your feet: its breath. The beast’s breath is highly toxic, it will burn the skin of those it comes into contact with. Breathing in the fumes will poison those who breathe it in, and will cause a weakening, sickly illness. The breath may even temporarily blind.

These injuries are not fatal, and will heal with time and the basic medical attention available in the world. Victims will require rest for at least a week, depending on how severe the blast of the serpent’s breath. But killing the best will ensure its havoc is brought to an end.

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.

MISTY FALLS CAVE

1. Tools found would be basic survival/camping tools one might expect: knives, hand axes, rope, handsaws, torches, batteries, etc.

SERPENT'S BREATH

1. The Stoor Worm, or Mester Stoor Worm, was a gigantic evil sea serpent of Orcadian folklore, capable of contaminating plants and destroying animals and humans with its putrid breath. Assipattle, the youngest son of a local farmer, defeated the creature by flinging still-burning peat into its mouth. As it died its teeth fell out to become the islands of Orkney, Shetland and the Faroes, and its body became Iceland.

2. It is possible the harvest the beast once it is killed, particularly for its fangs and skin. The skin/scales will provide ample protection to try to use it for armouring themselves. The fangs would provide useful for crafting knives or weapons.

3. It is... technically possible to eat the meat of the beast. Care should be taken in butchering, however. And it is not advised to eat the head.

TALES FROM THE NORTHERN TERRITORIES NEWSLETTER

Comments

[lastdecember]

[ Vash goes down as planned, but then he just keeps falling, hitting the ground harder than Wolfwood expected he would and letting the bowl slip from his grasp. That, before the coughing even kicks in, is what tells Wolfwood there's something very wrong here. Whoever can knock the other down just depends on the day and the mood and a thousand other little things – Vash has always been supernaturally fast and strong, but Wolfwood can read him like a book, and that's made them pretty close to equals in hand to hand.

But even if Vash decided to take the fall, he shouldn't have dropped that bowl.Wolfwood's already easing off his hold once that coughing fit starts, and by the tie Vash swats him with the ladle, he's sitting on his heels at Vash's side, confusion and worry written all over his face.

He didn't know Vash could get sick. ]

What... [ It takes him a second to wind back up to arguing, trying to conceal his worry with rude confrontation. ] You're the idiot! What were you thinking, making food for everyone when you're sick?!

[ Is this just sickness? A cold, from getting too cold? We don't have our powers anymore Vash had said, and he looks so weary, and weak. He's never been weak before. Wolfwood's gaze flits up again to that dark dark hair now hanging in Vash's eyes, and he has to tear himself away, springing to his feet with nervous energy. There's got to be a broom in here, and he'll find it, to clear away that broken bowl.

He was just playing around, and he nearly hurt his friend. His hands are shaking again, and he clenches them tight into fists to make the motion stop. ]

You should've said something, dummy!

[amo]

[ He's made a terrible mistake, he realizes too late. At the very least he should have caught the bowl, should have been able to, but there's no denying he's slower and more sluggish now, exhaustion still stubbornly hounding his body as it does its best to recover from his first time ever catching a (human) sickness. He'd underestimated all of it every step of the way, learned about and empathized even more with what humans regularly have to go through with their frail, decaying bodies. He was never supposed to fall ill like that. Then again, he's in a more active state of decay now, too.

There's a rising dread when Wolfwood backs off all too quickly, too easily, looking at him with that all too familiar expression. Vash is sick (ha ha) of seeing dark hair and blue eyes filled with such earnest concern on him like that. It doesn't help at all that he feels, distinctly, like he ruined the moment and shattered their much-needed sense of normalcy. All because he couldn't stay upright and dropped the stupid bowl. ]

I'm nooooot.

[ It comes out as a blatant whine that's followed by the put-upon sigh of someone who has had to argue he's fine now, stop fussing, for a million times. Anything to quickly distract from how Wolfwood's eyes dart to his hair. His friend can be far too clever for his own good sometimes. After his other self's reaction to the news of what their blackened hair meant, Vash can't bear to tell him. ]

I WAS sick. I'm doing much better now, I'll have you know!

[ A truth thrown out there to hastily distract from another obvious one. Save for an occasional itch in his throat or some old phlegm being coughed up, he's recovered sufficiently enough to be out and about doing things; a freedom he'd had to earn in the eyes of an overbearing worried older brother. Sure, he tires out much quicker, but that's nothing a few extra breaks can't mitigate.

Vash pushes himself up into a proper sit, ignoring the hot twist in his gut that's akin to shame or guilt as Wolfwood rushes to his feet, all frenetic energy again. Vash should have been better prepared for his friend's antics — it's not been so long that he could have forgotten — and he should not have shown weakness like that. He tries and fails not to sulk about it. ]

I'm fine. Worry about yourself, I'm not the one who's hurt!

[lastdecember]

[ Kitchens are the same in every world, he discovers, finding a broom and dustpan just like he expected to, and confirming the presence of the trash bin in the corner before he heads over to sweep up the broken bowl. Big brother Wolfwood, moving on automatic, always ready to jump in and clean up everyone else's mess, the familiar movements of clearing away the fragments giving him something normal to focus on, instead of Vash's illness.

Granted, he's only really known this gangly pile of trouble for about a year, but in all that time he's never once seen any signs of illness. Sure, he got hangovers sometimes – with how he drank there wasn't any avoiding that – but Wolfwood had never seen him with a cough, or a fever. Or infections either, for that matter, not even when burned or stabbed. Deep wounds always festered, on everyone but him. It was part of what made him so sturdy, so beyond mortal limitations. Not any longer, though, it seems.

He gets sick now.

What else is different? ]

My wrist is fine, don't change the subject!

[ The last of the tiny fragments get swept into the dustpan, and Wolfwood carefully brings them over to the trash to dispose of them. I'm fine, Vash whines, but he's not getting up. Wolfwood swallows hard, forcing the lump in his throat down. What if he'd thrown a friendly punch, instead of going for a leg sweep? Or a throw? The Grader in his shoulder harness bumps against the underside of his arm as he taps the dustpan into the bin, raising a whole new worry – if he can't avoid a simple takedown move, can Vash even dodge bullets anymore?

Can he even fight? ]

That cough sounds like shit, Spikey. If you're sick you should be resting, or you'll never get better.

[ They're not here voluntarily, which means at some point there's going to be a fight. If Vash can't fight, and Wolfwood's only got a handgun...? He'll have to talk to the other one, the one who isn't Vash's kid. He needs to know what their defenses look like.

He needs to keep this man safe, at all costs. ]

C'mon, old man. [ All Wolfwood needs is his blanket, and he's ready to go. ] Where're you staying? Better not be too far.

[ A new wardrobe, questions for Methuselah, drinks... that all can wait. A cough like that should be inside, in the warmth, not running around in the ice and cold taking care of people who can look after their own damn selves. ]

[amo]

[ While Wolfwood deals with the mess on the floor, Vash glances around to see where the cigarette might have landed. He's staying down where he is because it makes searching easier so low to the ground and not at all because it's the first time he's sat down in hours and he needs to catch his breath in the wake of the coughing fit. He's choosing to stay down for convenience, that's all.

Even though he already knows the kind of treatment that he's likely to receive now — they've always berated and fussed over each other's injuries in their own ways — he's still vaguely hoping not to be treated any differently than just before when they were tussling and bickering as usual. He doesn't need yet another person to treat him like he's going to keel over at the slightest breeze. He gets that enough from his brothers.

... Of course his hope gets dashed when Wolfwood next opens his mouth.

He resists the urge to throw the ladle at Wolfwood's head in an attempt to provoke another fight, aware that the bait is unlikely to work. He settles instead for pausing his search to glare at his friend. ]

I'm telling you, I'm already doing much better! I've been recovering just fine.

[ The glare turns more sullen, more of a pout, as he adds in a quiet mutter something to the affect of 'you sound just like Knives'. It's just as he's turning his head away while grousing that he catches a glimpse of white on the floor, right under the stool he'd gotten Wolfwood. Shifting to crawl over and grab it, his fingers stop just short of reaching it when Wolfwood delivers the next blow. Vash immediately looks back with an expression that's somewhere between stricken and offended. ]

Who are you calling an old man?! I'm plenty young!

[ For a plant anyway. He's not even two centuries old!

With a huff, he's snatching up the cigarette and finally getting back on his feet to deposit the ladle by the rest of the dirty dishes. There's a slight hesitation before he answers the question, fearing that the location itself is going to betray too much about the depth of his grief and yet knowing that sharing it is going to be inevitable. ]

There's a church near the outskirts of town. I've been staying there with my brothers.

[ It's a small town, the walk there isn't going to be much of a problem. The presence of his twin might be though. ]

[lastdecember]

[ The location doesn't register as a place to hold Vash's grief. What Wolfwood hears instead is that Millions Knives has made himself at home in another house of worship, and he's dragged both Vashes along with him. He can't help but wonder, briefly, if Knives has already desecrated the cross to reflect his own image, or if he spends the evenings hammering away on the organ, the way Midvalley said he used to do. His own little paradise, with not one but two brothers to keep him company.

How the hell is he supposed to watch Vash's back when the idiot is putting himself right in harm's way by letting Knives run around freely? Sleeping under the same roof as him? If Vash was staying near Knives just to keep an eye on him, that Wolfwood could understand. And sure, okay, Vash loves everyone, and Knives is his family. Wolfwood can't pretend that he doesn't understand having a dangerous brother, but Livio... Livio was just a kid, with a messed up passenger in his head. He did what he had to do to survive. Knives, on the other hand, was practically a god, and he used that strength and power to murder millions. How can that be put aside? How can he ever be trusted, ever again?

If he puts a bullet in Knives's head, would that be enough, finally, for Vash to hate him?

He pulls the blanket tighter around him, snug around his throat with his free hand tucked inside, both for warmth and for easy access to his gun, should he need it.

You sound just like Knives.

There's just too much here he doesn't understand, and with every new revelation the fear only grows that he won't be able to make the right choice in time. ]

All right. Lead the way.

[amo]

[ There's a brief moment in which Vash merely looks at Wolfwood, assessing him for... he's not sure himself what before he ultimately nods, figuring his previous plan with the various detours is not going to fly now. It's fine. They've got everything they need at the church anyway. ]

Okay, just let me grab some stuff.

[ But first, he moves closer to Wolfwood so he can tuck the recovered cigarette behind his ear with a stern look that serves as a silent warning to wait until they're outside. It's only after that he motions for Wolfwood to follow him as he turns and leaves the relative privacy of the kitchen behind. There's a growing sense of unease as he does and it's not helped at all when he spots a glint of steel on the floor that he recognizes when he steps outside. His stomach drops at the sight of Knives' skinning blade. He'd been so focused on Wolfwood, he hadn't even noticed it in the moment. Does that mean if he'd been there just a few seconds later that—

... No, he can't bear to think about that. Vash stubbornly pushes the thought and rising nausea down, wordlessly walking over to pick it up from the floor and putting it away in the pouch strapped to his thigh. He flashes Wolfwood an apologetic smile and then swiftly flits away to gather everything he needs and say his goodbyes to Methuselah and the rest of the volunteers. When he returns to Wolfwood's side it's with his coat, a sturdy leather satchel that he's stuffed some thermoses of soup and stew into for dinner later tonight along with some painkillers for Wolfwood's and Knives' injuries if needed, and another coat pilfered from the haphazardly gathered pile meant for under-dressed newcomers. ]

Here, we can find you something more your style later, but it'll do the job for now.

[ It'll work better than the blanket will either way. He can borrow some of Vash's clothes back at the church in the meantime, too. He's pressing his own gloves into Wolfwood's hands before declaring in chipper defiance of his apprehension: ]

Let's go! I can give you a mini-tour along the way.

[lastdecember]

[ Vash tucks the cigarette behind his ear and gives Wolfwood a look that he can't fully parse. Behave is all he's able to get out of it, but he's too distracted by the gentle gesture to read any more into it.

He follows Vash into the other room, only barely paying attention to what the other man's doing. His ear is still tingling from that touch, so much so that he has to put his own hand over it to make sure it's not actually changed, not really burning, or frozen. Vash has touched him more in the last fifteen minutes than in the entire year (give or take) that they traveled together... and while Wolfwood knows that it's just surprise at his resurrection, it's just Vash wanting to keep confirming that he's alive, and here, and warm, it's still making him feel... he doesn't know. A lot of conflicting shit, honestly. It's just one more thing to process from today, and he doesn't know how much else he can carry.

So when Vash heads into the crowd to tidy, or talk to people, or whatever the hell he needs to do before they can leave, Wolfwood turns away from him, giving himself a moment's space from Vash the Stampede and the whirlwind that surrounds him, and instead he looks over the other people in the room. There's all kinds here, although they're mostly young. Some look like they could hold their own in a fight, and some wouldn't last two seconds. He sees angry faces, frightened ones, people laughing over steaming bowls of what he assumes is the same stew that's currently warming his own belly. The whole town's population was killed off, and these are the replacements, hmm? All these interlopers, these unwanted guests. How long until whoever killed off the town's original residents comes for them? How long until this batch of arrivals starts seeing ghosts, and hearing voices, like Vash said had happened?

How long until they find out why they're really here?

Thankfully, Vash returns before Wolfwood can fall too far down that particular rabbit hole, coming back with a smile and the ugliest jacket that Wolfwood's ever seen. And sure, okay, he's a big man, and after so many other arrivals there's slim pickings in the coat department, but really? Orange??

At least it fits... and he can't deny how warm it is. ]

Goddamn, Spikey, this thing's bright enough to read by.

[ The gloves – which Wolfwood doesn't realize are Vash's – are at least properly plain, and they fit perfectly. He flings the blanket over his head and shoulders, muting that brilliant orange, tucks that unlit cigarette between his teeth, and he's as ready as he'll ever be to face the cold.

Or so he thinks until they're outside, and the bitter chill cuts right through the holes in his trousers, freezing him from the waist down. It's going to be a long walk to the church. ]

Fuck! I'm never gonna complain about the heat again, I swear.

[amo]

[ Vash at least has the decency to look the tiniest bit sheepish at the complaint, flashing a smile that's meant to be apologetic, only there's some obvious amusement ruining that. The jacket is garish, but it's function over form when it comes to importance right now. ]

That's probably the point. Makes it easy to see in the snow or during a storm.

[ Not that it matters at the moment, the weather's calm and Vash will be sticking to Wolfwood's side like glue. His amusement grows when Wolfwood pulls the blanket over his head, only barely refraining from laughing at the rather sorry sight his friend makes. They'll have to make it a brisk walk, both to keep Wolfwood warm by moving and so they can get him something better to wear from Vash's wardrobe as soon as possible. That fact becomes all the more obvious the second they step outside.

He chuckles wryly. ]

I never thought I would actually miss the heat of the desert, but I do.

[ Mostly he misses the suns and the sight of blue skies. The lack of light and near-constant grey overcast has been depressing to say the least.

In what is maybe a quiet apology for ruining their moment of normalcy before or just simple attentive consideration, Vash produces a lighter from his pouch and lights the cigarette dangling from Wolfwood's mouth for him. The smell has been a source of both comfort and grief; the very reason why some of those cigarettes are missing from the pack. When the spark catches and a breeze wafts the scent in his direction, he finds it more comforting than ever before. He focuses on that and tries not to think of the flutter of anxiety in his chest at the prospect of putting Wolfwood and Knives in the same room after what just happened. It'll be inevitable.

There's the urge to reach out and hook their arms together, much like he'd done with Knives when his twin had arrived, but he suppresses it. It's something he and Knives had done as children, walking arm in arm or hand in hand through the vast emptiness of their ship. It was an old but familiar gesture between them. With Wolfwood, it's different. They might have supported one another in battle and during drunken stumbling like that, but not outside of those circumstances. Maybe he could use sharing heat as an excuse, but it... feels like too much, somehow.

He tucks his hands in his pockets instead, turning to start leading his friend to the church. ]

Alright, this way.

[lastdecember]

[ He'll adapt, he knows. He can adapt to anything, will adapt to anything, because the alternative simply isn't an option. A day or so in the cold – ideally with a couple more layers between the biting air and his skin – and he'll be as comfortable as he ever was with the oppressive dusty heat of Noman's. But until he manages to adapt, he'll have that blanket pulled tight around his face like a little old lady, his shoes uncertain on the ice.

He's so bundled up, in fact, that he's already decided that his smoke will have to wait until they get to the church, because he doesn't want to have to let go of the blanket long enough to dig through his pockets for his lighter. Like he could read Wolfwood's mind, Vash leans in right as Wolfwood's come to that conclusion, a lighter in his hand.

There's so much he wants to say, so many things he wants to ask, but he doesn't know how to even begin. So he just nods in thanks and sucks down a searing lungful of smoke, letting the heat fill his chest and seep into his veins.

It's not a large town by any measure, he notes, plodding after Vash step by careful step. Nearby every building looks deserted, although there's definite signs of life here and there – smoke rising from many of the rooftops, and the ice underfoot shows clear signs of having been trod by several different people. There's no defenses though, at least none that he can see – no wall, no watch towers – and no signs of industry. Without a plant, very few towns on Noman's were able to be self-sufficient – food and water needed to be purchased, and that required money. Maybe there's mining outside the city limits, he thinks, or livestock yards or something like that, but mostly this seems like the kind of place where resources have to come in from the outside.

No resources, no defenses, and nobody to rely on other than a group of lost strangers. This is a hard place to end up. ]

How many people are here, give or take? [ At the end of this walk are Knives, and the other Vash, but he'll deal with that problem when they get there. He can't think about that right now – one thing at a time. ] Anyone made contact with any of the neighboring towns?

[ A place this small couldn't exist without neighbors. Surely there's other towns like this one nearby, maybe even a city? ]

[amo]

[ The route between the church and community center is so familiar that Vash can walk it blindfolded by now, feet carrying him forward without a thought. The crunch of snow underneath their feet has become as known as the shifting of sand. In so many ways Milton and No Man's Land are alike in their inhospitable nature and yet they're opposite ends of an extreme spectrum. He has no doubt Wolfwood will adapt though. If he and his brothers can manage it, then surely his friend in all his resilience and determination to survive will too. It helps that they've found more ways to cope with the cold by now; the discovery of the hot springs being one of the biggest boons they could ask for when they have no running hot water.

The questions Wolfwood ask as they trod along have more loaded answers than their seemingly simple premise would suggest. Vash is reluctant to give them when Wolfwood's already plenty overwhelmed and doesn't need anything more to worry about, but Vash gives them regardless. These are truths he can't hide and Wolfwood deserves to know what goes on here. ]

60 or 70, maybe? We get around 20 new Interlopers whenever another wave of people is brought in every other month and we lose nearly half of that in the interim. A lot of people go missing whether because they couldn't survive and their bodies just weren't found or because they got whisked away again, it's hard to say.

[ There are plenty of faces he's seen in town that have just vanished, not leaving behind a clue as to what's become of their fate. Possibly some might have tried to leave Milton, but... ]

No one's managed to make contact or get to any neighboring towns, if there's even any left out there. Honestly, just surviving here takes up so much effort, there hasn't been much room to go exploring.

[ It's a bleak world they've found themselves in indeed. It may not be Hell, but it's close. ]

[lastdecember]

[ Sixty or seventy people, those numbers slowly increasing, but with losses all the time. Wolfwood has a childish urge to reach out and grab hold of Vash’s hand at the idea of people just being whisked away -- getting lost in the ice, freezing, starving, those things can be seen, tracked, prevented. But the thought that Vash could simply disappear? It’s unacceptable.

They have to know what’s surrounding them. Having an enemy and a place to defend is much easier to deal with than the existential dread of resurrection, or multiple versions of people from multiple worlds, and it’s much easier to swallow than the forgiveness he’s sure will be demanded of him once they reach the church, and Knives. Vash seems to think they’re all allies now, them and Knives. And maybe, as unbelievable as it might be, he’s right. Whoever brought them here was able to grab three supernaturally powerful beings, and it might take working with all three of the bastards to get them all back home.

(He can’t think about what “getting back home” would mean for him. He made his choices.)

The ice – eventually somebody will have to tell him it’s called “snow” – crunches underfoot as they plod along, Wolfwood’s mind churning with strategies, defense options, ways he’d attack a town like this… and it’s a long list. Knowing what’s around them has to be a priority, he thinks, watching his breath steam out in front of him. If people are disappearing, look to the neighbors first. ]

Don’t you dare get whisked.

[ And keep your loved ones close. ]

[amo]

[ Vash fervently hopes that the people who have gone missing have simply been returned to their world in the same mysterious manner that they've arrived, he doesn't want to think about the alternative too much. Realistically, they have no say in whatever is making their numbers disappear, but he understands Wolfwood's sentiment all too well. It's just another reason why he's been keeping his brothers close, occupying the same living space and even the same bed. Any one of them could disappear at any time or get killed by the unknown forces at play. Promises not to do so are likely futile and yet... ]

Don't you either.

[ He echoes with a little smile shot Wolfwood's way. Now that he has his best friend back, he's not letting go of him so easily any time soon. In whatever way he can hold on to his presence, he will with that same feverish desperation he clings to Knives'. He lost them both once before. Never again. If they go, he'll find some way to bring them back or follow. He doesn't want to be alone anymore.

To steer away from those fearful, somber thoughts, Vash offers other useful information: the little tour he promised. As they trudge through the snow, he points out places of interest. From largely ransacked shops to houses both occupied and unoccupied, where to go to see the doctors they have in town, the path to the hot springs, the best way to get down to the basin to fish. If Vash lingers on some subjects... well, it's to be helpful, that's all. If it fills any heavy silence that might fall and distracts from what waits for them at the end of the road, that's just an added bonus. Nothing more. ]

[lastdecember]

[ Knives is going to be the problem here, Wolfwood knows, catching that little smile out of the corner of his eye. If they've all been brought here against their will, then that makes them all allies -- at least for now -- against whoever's responsible for their abductions. He can fight alongside Knives. He can plan with him, trust him -- to a degree -- at his back. He can do what he can to keep the bastard alive until this situation resolves itself.

But he will not sleep around the man. Knives doesn't get to hear his nightmares, see his weaknesses, doesn't get to learn one goddamn thing about what makes Wolfwood shiver and cry in the night. He'll sleep in the common room, find his own place, curl up during the day in a sunny spot somewhere out in the fields, whatever it takes, but he will not let Knives see him that way.

They're not going to be allies forever, after all.]

Whoa whoa whoa, hold up a second.

[ Hunting in a water river -- there's so much water on this planet! -- he understands well enough, but Vash is the second person to talk to him about a hot spring, and it still doesn't make any sense. ]

The only spring I know holds up a vehicle, Spikey, so what the hell is a hot spring?

[ That building right ahead sure looks like a church, but give him just a few more seconds of friendly talk before they have to go in, please? ]

And how the fuck do you bathe in one?

[amo]

[ The church is slowly starting to come into view and with it, the anxiety fluttering in Vash's gut grows stronger and stronger despite his stubborn attempts to ignore the feeling entirely. Part of him is anxious to check up on his twin because even though he hadn't looked at Knives, he'd heard him wheeze and struggle in the wake of Wolfwood's attempt to strangle him. Another part wants to keep his brother and his friend far removed from each other for that very same reason; the evidence obvious in the form of bruises on a pale throat and the skinning blade tucked into his pouch. But there's no way he can keep them separate when he wants to keep an eye on the both of them and it's going to be the only way to make Wolfwood understand that Knives isn't a threat anymore.

The bid to hold up has Vash actually pausing in his steps to look at Wolfwood curiously, head tilting as he takes in the nonplussed questions and... only barely refrains from laughing. Sometimes it's easy to forget how little the people of No Man's Land actually knew because of how abnormal the conditions were to sustain life on their shithole of a planet when most people here seem to understand things like weather and nature regardless of what world they came from. ]

The same way you'd bathe in any body of water, you undress and get in?

[ He teases, unable to keep all traces of amusement off of his face, before conceding and taking that bait to stall for time by launching into a proper explanation. ]

A spring is created when water falling from the sky as rain or snow like this— [ He kicks into a little mound of snow to send a powdery spray flying for emphasis. ] Melts and seeps into the ground and later finds a way back up. Hot springs are springs where the water has been warmed by the planet's core before reaching the surface again.

[ It's very rudimentary and lacking in terms of explanation, there's so much more to it to explain there regarding hydrology and geothermal activity, but that's not what this is really about anyway. ]

I'll show you sometime. Trust me, once you get into the hot springs, you'll never want to leave! The water feels amazing, it's the best way to warm up when everything else here is so stupidly cold.

[ See? Just thinking about the hot springs has Vash's expression turning happy and blissful. ]

[lastdecember]

[ His silly question works like a charm. Vash actually stops at the edge of the property to laugh at him – on the inside only, but Wolfwood's been studying this man too long to miss all the little signs as Vash holds his laughter back – and that teasing tone is like cool water on a hot day. It settles his soul, but it doesn't do a damn thing for the pounding of his heart, though, or the way his whole tired body aches with the need to move, to fight, to run or wrestle or, god, he doesn't know, and he's sure not going to waste time right now figuring it out. He's vibrating out of his skin, and it's only about to get worse.

So he slaps a smile of his own across his face and prepares for the battle ahead, shrugging out of the blanket (regretting it immediately as the cold air hits his face and throat) and draping it over one arm where it'll be easy to drop if he needs to move quickly. Vash is telling him more magical fantasies – water that hits the ground that comes back up? And it's warm? – but for all that he's got his friend here to laugh, the dread of coming face to face with Knives in just a minute is a hard thing to shake. Not even the thought of going to the baths with Vash is enough to fully distract him, although it's damn close. (He's picturing tubs, set in among the rocks, heated like cauldrons from bubbles rising out of the ground, and Spikey drunk and giggling.

Okay, so it's a little distracting.) ]

You had me at warm. [ This has got to be fucked up for Vash too, he knows, and covers his nervousness with a grin. He can do this. They both can. He survived serving under Chapel for half a year, he can survive Knives. ] I'm a pretty cheap date these days.

[ It is stupidly cold here, Vash is right about that. ]

[amo]

[ For all their jovial smiles, Vash can still see his own nervousness reflected on his friend. He knows Wolfwood. Maybe not his entire past, but in all the ways that truly matter, including his tells. The time they've spend together isn't much at all in the face of his long lifespan and the grand scheme of things, yet it had been enough to get to know one another and share a synergy the likes of which Vash knows he won't ever get to share with anyone else. (So it's a good thing he got it back now.) There's tension in every line of Wolfwood's frame that Vash feels himself. The way Wolfwood moves is the same deliberate way he always does when he's preparing for battle. It's a familiar sight.

Of course Wolfwood has every reason to fear Knives as much as he does and Vash knows that nothing he says will assuage that. Seeing is believing and even then it's likely not going to be enough to put Wolfwood at ease around his brother. Vash can't exactly blame him when fear is often still his own first knee-jerk reaction when it comes to Knives. He can't expect Wolfwood to feel any differently or come around when he's never known the real Knives that came before he broke and shattered under a terrible truth they'd been far too young to face. He's not expecting him to forgive Knives when he's not even sure he himself does entirely. (It's just that they're all they ever had and Vash made a promise he intends to keep.)

A truce should be doable to start with though, right? Milton and its mysteries provide a common enemy to unite against and Vash is hoping that will be enough to find common ground, however little it may be.

At least the playful banter is a welcome distraction before they go face the inevitable. ]

Good, because there's little else I can woo you with. It's a date then.

[ He grins and jokes back, grateful and fond. Let that little promise be something they can cling to, the prospect of something fun later down the road there to bolster their resolve to see this through. It's with the thought that he'll have to bring his meager stash of alcohol along to the hot springs (no matter how unwise that might be) that Vash turns on his heel and finally leads them into the church, completely forgetting to tell Wolfwood to put out his cigarette before entering. ]