February 2024 Test Drive Meme

[singmod]

FEBRUARY 2024 TDM

PROMPT ONE — ARRIVAL: METHUSELAH'S FEAST: Yet another 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 — OF FAIR FORTUNE: After spell of bad luck, finally, the Interlopers find A Very Good (albeit slightly spooky) Boy.

PROMPT THREE — BAD PICKINGS: An error is made when foraging for mushrooms that have been altered by the Aurora makes for some interesting situations for the Interlopers.

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.

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 several weeks, maybe longer. The fire is stone cold, the dishes in the sink are mouldy — it's possible the place has been ransacked, as if they've gone through the drawers and cupboards looking for something. 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. Interlopers who arrive during the month of February will find themselves especially likely of falling foul to accidental injuries and the like. It's as if the bad luck of finding yourself in this place only gets much worse. Maybe you get yourself horrendously more lost than you mean to, maybe you end up with a sprained wrist or ankle after a fall, torn clothing from fighting through the thicker parts of the wilderness.

But soon enough, you'll be able to find a path to town. A little more worse for wear, but alive. It’s here you may find someone else in the same boat as yourself, equally freezing and confused — battered from the journey. 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. Some of them will direct you to the Community Hall, tell you to head there — you've been expected.

There is a sombre mood to the town. Although you can't quite place why, maybe you should ask?

Towards the center of town, you’ll find the building from which the biggest of the smoke trail rises: a community hall, by the looks of it. 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, but looks sad. He smiles warmly despite the sadness in him, and with pity, ushering you in with haste.

“Another batch of poor souls from the wilds.” he nods gravely. No, this is not the first time that this has happened. “I am Methuselah. I welcome you Newcomer, although I’m sorry for how you’ve come to find yourself here. The lights are changing things, bringing more of you here. Come, we must get you warm and fed. Mother Nature has not been kind.”

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 and perhaps a rare canister of coffee, along with soup and stew and trays of charred deer and rabbit meats, plus some grilled fish, instant mashed potatoes, and tinned vegetables. It’s very basic, but it’s hot and filling. A feast. The old man has been busy. And 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 very troubled, thoughtful. Much has been happening. The others from town will eventually trail in too, to eat and warm themselves, and search among the new faces.

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, his mood is... low, mournful. but perhaps you might be able to get some answers from those fellow arrivals who’ve been in this place for some time now.

This time, if he is approached, particularly by those who have been in Milton for some time, he will frown in thought. He is… considering something. Finally, he will speak:

“I had hoped that the secret cache I and your fellow Newcomers had found two months past would be enough until the spring comes.” He hesitates for a moment, his gaze moving to one of the many windows of the Community Hall. “If she ever arrives, that is.”

He doesn’t believe it will.

“More and more of you come. Life will continue to get harder with the numbers rising.” Methuselah explains. “Milton is but one town, and the way out to the south is blocked.”

He means the road out — the one that follows out of town, past the gas station and through the mountains. The tunneled road ends there, caved in with snow and stone. There is no way out that way. Methuselah is quiet for a few moments.

“... There must be another way out. For all of our sakes. It must be found."

OF FAIR FORTUNE

WHEN: The month of February.
WHERE: Milton Outskirts, Milton area.
CONTENT WARNINGS: otherworldly animal;

The Interlopers have discovered that it is not best to trust the canines in this world. The wolves and volatile, aggressive — prone to attacking the town, people. There has even been an instance of a dog leading Interlopers off the beaten track some months ago, into trips and falls and all sorts of mischief. To come across any sort of dog these days would draw suspicion, perhaps even aggression from Interlopers.

And certainly, coming across this particular dog is enough to turn plenty around and start heading in the opposite direction.

There is something…. Otherworldly about this dog. In terms of breed, one might recognise it to look a great deal like an Old English Sheepdog — but far bigger and hardier. It almost looks as if moss and vines are matted in its long fur, which seems ridiculous — but it’s true enough. The dog does not bark, but instead will stop and look at you silently when you come across one another. If approached, it will not run off, but it does not want to be petted and prefers to keep a respectable distance between you and it.

Then, it will turn to look in one direction and begin heading that way. It looks as if it wants to take you somewhere, but it won’t run off for you to catch up. It keeps to your side, silent and steady as you head through the snow, the woods. Wherever you’re going, there seems to be no rush in getting there.

It’s a little unnerving: where did this dog come from? Why does it look so… strange? Where is it going? Where is it taking you? But even with these questions, it doesn’t seem like you’ll find much in terms of answers, not at first.

Soon enough, you’ll find it. It’s different for everyone, but it seems like it all has some recurring theme. Perhaps out in the cold wilds of the Northern Territories, you’re in desperate need of shelter or warmth — you and the dog will find yourselves facing an abandoned cabin, a place of safety from the cold, perhaps with warmer clothing within. Or perhaps the dog may lead you to some secret stash: a metal cache half-hidden in the snow, a small stone cairn — with vital loot hidden within: matches, flares, maybe even food. It may even lead you to foragable foods: mushrooms, berries or of the like — all safe to consume.

Whatever the strange dog leads you to, it is a fortune. A small one, but a fortune nonetheless. It seems as if it wanted to bring you to something to aid you in your time here. Upon finding whatever it is the dog leads you to, the dog disappears — never to be seen again.

BAD PICKINGS

WHEN: Mid-month onwards for a few weeks.
WHERE: The entirety of the Milton area.
CONTENT WARNINGS: altered food/foraged foods; drugs/hallucinogens / negative hallucinogenic trips; severely altered/warped moods; temporary amnesia; personality switches; loss of senses

The Northern Territories may be harsh, difficult conditions to survive in, but certainly not impossible. There is an abundance of wildlife, hardy enough to withstand the weather — even in the extreme, unpredictable times such as these. Foraging will soon come to be a staple for those stuck here in this world, and is just as important as hunting down any deer or rabbit. Flora is not only useful in terms of sustenance, but in its use in medicines and tinctures.

Mushrooms can be found here and there in particular areas: taking advantage of the wet, rotten wood of downed trees, or nestled in the sheltered undergrowth of the more densely wooded areas where it’s a little more suitable for fungi to grow. But not even the flora of this world is safe following the recent Auroras. The world is changing, and for the next few weeks — foraged mushrooms will have some… interesting effects, when consumed.

Interlopers that come across these mushrooms in the wilds will find themselves compelled to pick and eat these mushrooms right away. They're perfectly fine to eat raw, just more enjoyable to eat once cooked.

The effects of the mushrooms will last between eight hours to a full day, depending on how much was consumed. Nothing can be done to alleviate symptoms. You will feel incredibly hungover the day after the effects have subsided, and feel completely fine after that. The Aurora’s influence on mushrooms is only temporary, and the mushrooms will cease their effects after a few weeks.

Reishi mushrooms This mushroom will temporarily take away one of your five senses: sight, touch, smell, taste or hearing. You may find yourself feeling completely numb to touch; or unable to hear or see anything.

Oyster mushrooms Eating one of these mushrooms will give you temporary amnesia. You may forget yourself, things about your life, even your own name. Or maybe you will forget those around you. Or perhaps both.

Black Morel Eating this mushroom will seem to switch your personality to its complete opposite. Introverted sorts will become extroverted, those prone to anger will become more calm and chilled out, cheerful sorts will become more morose — and vice-versa.

Chanterelles Your mood is lifted and you become more cheerful and affectionate with those around you. You may even become more enamoured with the next person you happen to meet, regardless of your feelings towards them previously or your own orientation/attractions.

Amethyst Laccaria There is nothing supernatural or strange that happens when this mushroom is consumed. You just have a super bad hallucinogenic trip of your own horrible making. This mushroom is literally a nightmare. Sorry about that.

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.

OF FAIR FORTUNE

1. Please Do Not Pet That Dog.

BAD PICKINGS

1. Interlopers that pick a variety of the mushrooms and cook them together to eat will suffer the effects of whichever mushroom was in the largest quantity.

2. The mushrooms are fine to eat raw, and characters will feel compelled to eat them raw.

TALES FROM THE NORTHERN TERRITORIES NEWSLETTER

Comments

Eloise Emery (OC) | Vampire: The Masquerade

[witch_hunt]

I: ARRIVAL

[The first thing that strikes her as wrong, even before her eyes open or her mind clears itself of that unwanted refrain, is that she feels cold. The second thing is that her mind is quiet, still, for the first time in…

Well. Quite some time, suffice it to say. Long enough that she struggles to understand what this sudden solitude must mean.

Then, she opens her eyes, and she truly, earnestly wonders if she has lost her mind.

After all, spending this long in the sun should have surely reduced her to so much ash. She shouldn’t even be able to move her limbs due to the siren-call of day-sleep. She should be filled with a deep, primordial panic as the Red Fear robs her of her logic. She should use every drop of vitae left in her, in that madness, to sprint for shade like a wild animal.

But none of that happens. All she can really bring herself to do is stare at the sun, burning out her retinas with a hollow, shallow awe. All she can do is lie there in the snow and feel that potent nothingness.]

II: BAD LUCK

[It is the lot of the vampire to lead a wretched, skulking existence. Theirs is an inherited sin, reinforced with the atrocity they commit nightly to prolong their unworthy unlives.]

He-llo-oo? Is anybody there?

[Thus, all their ills are deserved, and all their woes justified. In this manner of philosophy, favored by the adherents to the more self-flagellating of Cainite faiths, it is only natural that the fortune ill favors them, and that tragedy anoints them as a thick oil.]

If there is, I'm hurt and I really, ah, need some help!

[Eloise, despite her expertise in the occult matters of the world, subscribes to a much more secular reason as to why she is stuck in a ditch with a sprained-to-uselessness ankle, calling out for help with a pained voice. It’s quite simple, really.

She is, indeed, a terrible and venerably old predator of man, who has killed many dozens and injured thousands over two long centuries of existing, and is deserving of punishment under most moral and legal systems. This was all done in cities, and not forests. Her ability to navigate the former? Refined to perfection. The latter?]

Please?

[The less said the better. Incompetence is only cute when it’s an affectation or harmless, after all. If only she still had the curse, this would be nothing to her, but if she still had the curse she would be so much ash on the wind. Alas.]

III: METHUSELAH'S FEAST

[Somehow, someway, she manages to get to the community hall, and proper treatment for her injury. In short order, she’s sitting by the fire with a bowl of soup, and she smiles at anyone who’ll approach her, bright as the flame she’s next to but a bit fragile still. As if it might go out at any moment, and that she’ll be gone with it.]

Hey. [Her tone is soft, warm. It shakes only slightly.] Doing alright?

[Or maybe you catch her when she’s not paying attention, and she’s just staring into her soup as if it might hold the answers to the world’s greatest mysteries. Whatever the case, she hasn’t touched it aside from stirring it with a spoon every now and then.]

IV: FAIR FORTUNE (CW: SELF-HARM)

[Maybe you’re just walking by, or maybe you were following the footsteps—two sets of tracks, a small human and a big dog—but whatever the case, passersby might happen upon a bit of an odd scene.

A girl, young and pretty with features pale enough to almost make her seem a frosted corpse and hair as white as the snow around her, sitting on a cache of flares and matches. A couple such items are spilled out around her, but most immediately of note is the lit match that she’s holding her hands. A lit match that she brings close to the fingers of her other hand, close enough to almost burn, and then she stops, just to begin the process elsewhere on her arm. Slight marks on the fair flesh of her hand show that she’s been at this for a little bit, and has messed up no small amount of times.

She doesn’t seem to notice you, enraptured as she is in her pointless task.]

II; WoD OC high five

[humeansfox]

Oh dear!

[A cheerful but worried voice responds to Eloise's call.]

I can help just, uh, please do not be alarmed.

[The voice's owner soon comes into view, and its obvious why she's prefaced herself with that. While humanoid in shape, she's covered in fur and has a fox-head. More small and delicate than the lupines Eloise has perhaps seen, and likely much more friendly.

She crouches near the ditch, two tails swishing behind her, as she extends a clawed hand.]

Do you think you can walk? I can try to carry you out if you need it.

[Kitsune were not the strongest of Changing Breeds, but she could at least try!]

a fellow person of culture

[witch_hunt]

[There's a moment where upon seeing what is clearly some form of lupine that her mind goes taut, pulling at a leash that no longer connects to anything. On the part of a physical response, she stares wide-eyed at the proffered claw.]

Um.

[Well, given that no violence has happened, it's probably fine, and no other savior is likely going to be forthcoming. Eloise takes the hand and tries to struggle up but fails with a wince.]

No, it... it hurts pretty bad. [She could probably power through that, honestly, so long as there's someone to act as crutch. But there's no need to exacerbate the injury, which is something she needs to actually worry about now.] I'm sorry, but I'm going to have to take you up on that, ms...?

[humeansfox]

Oh, sorry. I am Hu! I would say it is a pleasure to meet you but these are not normal or good circumstances.

[She's not sure if being in this weird Realm is good or bad or just is yet, but her new friend getting injured is bad.
[She scrambles down into the ditch and moves to pick up Eloise bridal-style. In this form she's stuck in she does have above average human strength, so while she won't be carrying Eloise around for long she doesn't have any trouble getting her out of the ditch.]

There! Do you think you could walk if I supported you?

[witch_hunt]

[Being picked up bridal style does prompt a sound out of her, a rather undignified eep! More clinically, in her mind, she wonders how fast she would die if the Lupine(?) named Hu felt sufficiently motivated. Very quickly, she decides.]

For me, it is a pleasure to meet you, Ms. Hu. You're the first good thing that's happened since I turned up here.

[She lets the smile—a warm and beaming expression—linger for a bit more before dimming to a more contemplative expression.]

And... I think so, yes. As long as I'm not pressuring my right foot, I'm good to walk. [She shuffles a bit, preparing to be put down.] My name's Eloise, by the way. But my friends call me El.

sorry for the delay, apartment remodling and internet issues occured

[humeansfox]

I am glad I could help, then.

[She carefully puts El down, hovering nearby in case she collapses and needs to be picked up again.]

The town is that way, [She points off in the distance] but it is not too far.

I

[thefifthchild]

[Wrapped in his cloaks, furs and assorted layers, a boy blocks the sun from her eyes to loom over her, the top of his face covered by a mixture of a heavy hood and a mask around around his eyes which narrow into pale slits.

Someone with more decorum would probably offer a hand, a polite warning about the dangers of allowing oneself to sit still in the ice, maybe a joke.

It's not that Damian's incapable of that level of social grace. He's just an asshole.

So he kicks her in the ribs lightly.]

Get up before you freeze to death, idiot.

[witch_hunt]

[There's no real reaction, up until the kick, which does elicit a noise from her. An exhalation. She stares up at Damian with a face utterly devoid of expression.

Now's not the time for this.

She blinks, and an expression blooms on her face as she sits up. A strained smile, brow wrinkling slightly in confusion. Her arms move to hold herself, brushing off the snow that gathered on her and seeking to try to maintain what little warmth she produces.]

Um, yes. [Her voice is quiet, and weak. Barely audible due to the muffling snow.] But, well, where exactly am I?

[It's kind of funny, but the patheticness of her demeanor or slowness of her movements aren't even particularly feigned—if anything, she's playing it down. Turns out that lying down in the snow in clothes not particularly meant for the weather is really bad for your health and energy levels.]

[thefifthchild]

[He remembers asking the same question... two months ago, was it? Weird. Rorschach's response rings in his mind, summoning some amusement in him.]

Some say Hell. [Taking pity on her, he offers a hand to help pull her up before she dies of hypothermia on the spot and he has to fight off the cannibals with a sword.] It's actually Canada. Post apocalyptic Canada under the domain of some kind of nightmarish revenant God, but Canada all the same.

[witch_hunt]

[At Hell, there is a bit of a reaction. An inhalation, a slight furthering to the furrow of her brow. When he continues, she lets out a choked kind of laugh, the kind of noise that's more relief than humor.

She takes his hand. Upsies.]

Right. Sorry, that's... [She takes a deep breath, and seems to immediately regret it. Shit's cold!] Unbelievable. Please don't take this the wrong way, but that sounds completely insane.

[She's not denying it out of hand, though. In truth, she's mostly willing to buy it.]

[thefifthchild]

It's not your Canada, if it helps. [Multiverse, many worlds, mirror universes, you wouldn't expect to get used to it but you absolutely do after a while. Not that Damian ever had the privelege of living a life in ignorance.]

There's a run down town nearby that all the survivors are staying at. The town center has food and a fire. I'll take you there. [He's realizing that he should start carrying around warmer clothes in case he runs into any of the newbies. Having to sacrifice his own cape again is a bit grating, but he still unclips it from his costume and hands it to the girl.] Put that on. We don't have enough medicine to go around if you get sick.

[witch_hunt]

[Not her Canada? This information is delicately placed next to the other things that are not immediately relevant to her survival but potentially fascinating.

She takes the cape, and is small enough that it actually covers her very effectively.]

Thank you; I'll get it back to you. [This approach is probably fine. This type of person, a well-meaning jerk, is ultimately pretty straight-forward as long as you play ball with their self image.] Um, I'm Eloise, by the way. But my friends...

[She trails off, and looks away. Wraps the cape around her a bit more.]

Nevermind.

[thefifthchild]

Robin. [He says, by way of introduction. Only one person in this stupid town knows his "real" name, and he'd like to keep it that way.

If the cold gets under his skin, he doesn't show it. He still has his scarf that he wraps slightly more tightly around his head.

He should be more wary, he realizes. Most of the people in this town are blind trusting idiots. Or Tim, who has the opposite problem of being a lunatic. Idly, as he walks, he categorizes away everything he knows about this newcomer. Pale, young - probably his age? Stared at the sun for a long time, showed little regard for her safety. Didn't react with much shock at the revelation of many worlds, had a noticable reaction to Hell.

Possibly catholic.] Whenever people trail off like that, it's usually because they want the other person to ask for elaboration.

[Observation. He doesn't particularly care about her friends.]

[witch_hunt]

[Anglican, actually, but she hasn't practiced in a while. A long while.

She looks down even harder. Wow, she didn't even need to call up on the blush of life to get her ears to burn red! Nice.]

No, it's just something stupid I say when introducing myself. My friends call me El. An icebreaker to smooth things over, right? It just felt a bit silly in this situation.

[She very forcefully wrenches her gaze from the ground and towards Robin with a smile that is slightly less brittle, but it's distinctly a I'm not gonna think about this too deeply right now for personal reasons kind of expression.]

It's nice to meet you, Robin. [She laughs a bit, again that incredulous kind of sound.] I mean, you definitely saved my life, right? Even if I got up, I probably would've just gotten lost and tripped up in some ditch to freeze in. So it's really nice to have met you.

[Looking at him now, she does notice the way that he fiddles with the scarf.]

Oh, right, of course you'd be... [She exhales, nods to herself, and raises the cape up and open in invitation.]

[thefifthchild]

[He hums, no real reaction to the nickname. He doesn't do nicknames as a rule. It took him a long time to get used to calling Grayson "Dick". Mostly because that's an attrocious nickname that nobody should ever use, but it's true of all the others too. What kind of horrific monster names their child "Tim."

Distantly, he's aware that this behavior is a bit odd for a teenage girl. Too socially nuanced.

Her demeanor reminds him a bit of some of the love interests in the manga that he reads. Soft spoken, approachable, demure, obnoxiously cute, a bit clumsy, with an underlying melancholy to her eyes. Not real, in other words.]

Don't thank me. [Eyes stretched wide open in pure stark terror, mouth agape, body twisted, heart burst.] There's worse fates to meet in this place.

[The offer for the cape, to share, it makes him turn his eyes away, and pointing them toward the ground. No, he'd really rather not.] My suit's insulated. And it's not a long walk.

[witch_hunt]

[She wriggles the cape, very clearly ignoring the worse fates bit. No thank you.]

I'm cold, then.

[thefifthchild]

[He stares at her incredulously this time. God damn it.]

Seriously.

[witch_hunt]

Seriously.

[Completely true. She was lying there for quite some time and is actually still regaining sensation in her fingers.

Also, her eyes hurt from her staring contest with the sun, but that's less relevant.]

[thefifthchild]

[Unbelievable. With the utmost exasperation, he grabs the cape and wraps it around himself - around the two of them, apparently.

She is cold. Freezing, in fact.]

Now hurry up and walk.

[witch_hunt]

[Satisfaction openly blooms on her face as she obeys the command to walk.]

What's it like? The town, I mean.

IV

[flambeaux]

Louis, in a mismatch of well-made overcoat and a scavenged toque, had hoped to find something live and full of edible blood at the end of the tracks. Instead, he finds himself crunching lightly through the snow towards a person.

The one thing he's trying not to eat in Milton, with mixed results.

Louis is no game hunter. Some nights, like now, he goes hungry and his skin becomes grayish and pallid. Still, he has not progressed beyond what a hungry human might look like. And no matter what, his eyes remain an unusual bright green.

Something closes its grip on his heart, and he can't help going preternaturally still. He thinks of Claudia and burns. He can't stop thinking of her most of the time. Louis wonders if this girl is even real. He's encountered strange illusions in Milton before.

"Waste of fire, miss," he finally gently breaks the silence.

[witch_hunt]

She twitches at the voice, and immediately hisses in pain as the motion jams the match flame-first against her flesh. Instinctual movements have her throwing the thing away and into the snow where it goes out swiftly.

"Ah," she says, clutching at her hand as she regards the intruder. Her expression is more got caught with her hand in the cookie jar than got caught micro-dosing self-immolation. "Well, it's only one match. Quite humble for a finder's fee, or lion's share."

[flambeaux]

"Ah, I didn't mean to startle you. Sorry, I--don't have anythin' for the burn."

He stays where he is, awkwardly shifting from one foot to the other. It's a human gesture he retained. He finds comfort in human gestures.

"No tellin' when you'll find a cache like this again." It's not the waste of a match he's really concerned about.

He's fairly convinced she's real, though she has an eerie quality to her, like Claudia. It should probably have the opposite effect, but Louis finds it endearing if inscrutable. He would like to see her not hurt.

"What were you hoping to achieve, burnin' yourself?"

[witch_hunt]

That's an amazing question with an extremely specific answer that she is utterly unwilling to give. In fact, the whole time he was talking, she was trying to come up with a good lie. There kind of isn't one, so she'll offer up a rephrased truth instead.

"I wanted to..." Her grip on her fingers tightens, then untightens. "To prove that this is really happening, I guess. Fire's always had a way of centering me, chasing away everything but the fear."

Eloise lets go of her hand, and smiles at him wanly.

"And if you want to apologize for sneaking up on me, introductions are a good start."

[flambeaux]

Fire was what Louis saved his daughter from. Fire, resulting from his own folly, brought her into his life. He saved her out of guilt and told himself it was the best thing for her. Lies by omission and deception are Louis's speciality. He tells them even to himself.

Remembering to introduce himself in the midst of such strange circumstances seems a bit out of place, but Louis wouldn't be Louis if he weren't out of place himself. He is too human, a flawed vampire who insists on being a gentleman.

"Louis de Pointe du Lac, at your service, miss," he says in the same soft voice not out of place in a parlor. It isn't wise to be loud in the forest. He doffs the (in his opinion) ridiculous but warm toque, and his hair unfurls, coily and full. He's currently running out of pomade, which is yet another annoyance of this world.