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singillppl2024-02-05 02:31 pm
singmod) wrote in singillppl2024-02-05 02:31 pm
Entry tags:
February 2024 Test Drive Meme
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
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.
1. Please Do Not Pet That Dog.
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.
senku ishigami / dr. stone
[Senku awakens disoriented, confused, and cold, all of which are alarming but none so much as the last. The season has changed, but he doesn't know how. Senku Ishigami does not lose time, he'd counted the damn seconds for 3,700 years of petrification! And then there's the voice at the back of his mind, you are the Interloper. It couldn't be the Why-Man, who spoke in a synthetic voice when he (it?) spoke at all. So then...who? What happened to him? Where are the others?
Questions he doesn't really have time to waste dwelling on, he chides himself. It's winter, the worst-case scenario he'd counted all those seconds to avoid while he was in stone, but there's nothing for it now. If he wants a chance at surviving he needs to make a fire. Which means...searching for wood that isn't too wet to make a bow drill out of, and digging for dry ground to light it in, and hoping not to freeze to death in the process.
He manages to fashion himself a makeshift knife out of stone as he did once years before, but it's in gathering the wood where he hits a snag -- quite literally, tripping over a root buried in the snow and rolling down a hill as all his wood falls out of his arms. His ankle won't take his weight when he tries to stand up, either. His shoulders shake, trying to hold back the first slivers of despair.]
Haha, shit. After everything, this is it...?
[After all Byakuya went through to make sure future humanity might have a chance, the Hundred Tales, the platinum...no. Not yet, he can't give up yet. This is where one might find Senku limping through the snow slowly regathering his fallen wood and staggering toward somewhere dry and sheltered enough for building a fire. He could use a hand, honestly.]
ii. of fair fortune -> feast
[Or maybe nobody finds him, and it's the dog that happens upon him instead. It's clear right away that it's a domesticated breed, strange as it may or may not be, and that can only mean one thing -- people. Civilization, somewhere nearby. The settlements he's come across haven't necessarily always been friendly, in the time since he's awakened from petrification, but when his choices are to roll the dice between certain death and only possible death, it's a no-brainer, so he's not afraid to follow the dog where it wants to take him.
...It's not civilization it leads him to, precisely, but the abandoned cabin he winds up at provides something just as vital--shelter. There's even a winter coat left on the chair, a box of matches in the desk. He can make it through the night, and plan his next move.
Even better, the next morning...he sees it, out the window. Fires. Multiple fires, the kind he'd seen from Ishigami Village, way back then. The walk into town is a struggle with his busted ankle, but he makes it. Once he's had his first proper meal since awakening, he's ready to tackle the hunt for answers again. Turning to the nearest person, he asks:]
What country is this town in? And -- [his mouth twists, a little resentful (mostly at himself) at having to ask] what year is it?
iii. it's science time
[Once he's had an evening to recover from his unceremonious arrival, Senku's back on the horse and ready to tackle the newest problem at hand: the road out of Milton. Curiously enough, he'd found some of his old item pouches strewn around in the community hall, with a vial each of nitric and sulfuric acid, perfectly intact. And while he isn't ignoring the mystery of how that's possible -- he does have some bigger fish to fry. Or stone pathways to open up, as it were. His grin when he addresses the people still living in the community hall is perhaps a bit Too sharp.]
So we just need to clear the way out, right? Who wants to go shopping for a little science project?
ii (Hi It's Me)
[It was a slender blond that spoke up next to him, with a knit hat he had salvaged from the rubbish pulled tight over his chin-length locks and ill-matched with the heavy, green cape that the man wore over his plain black tee. Shiro Ashiya looked over at the man with distant interest, and sipped at his hot tea in the cold morning outside.]
This seems to be neither of the lands I thought I would awaken in, [He added in a mild, conversational manner-- as if he were discussing something as trivial as the coupons he had found for an upcoming trip to the market. Ashiya's jaw subtly tightened-- he had expected a trap, and to be whisked back to a land on the edge of a bloody revolution. Not.... here.]
The one thing I can truly confirm is where this is not. Japan, I mean-- unless we somehow wound up in Hokkaido, but I see no reason why that would happen.
no subject
So, then, who was this man? He wasn't from Ishigami Village, and he couldn't be from Treasure Island. Was there another settlement of people living somewhere, freed from petrification, then? It seems the most likely, yet...there's no post-petrification scars on this man. It's strange.]
Where were the places you were expecting to be, then? And what makes you say this definitely isn't Japan?
[He can understand everyone here just fine, but he is fluently bilingual, so it doesn't tell him much.]
no subject
The cloak he wore as a general, too big and a little too heavy for his human shoulders, also didn't help.
He sighed.]
It's a personal complication of my own, and not anything that helps with this problem.
The little bit of writing I've seen looks to be in English, so I would assume we're in a region that's both cold and where English is widely spoken.
[Images of the map of the world had shown up enough in his deep research dives in the library, with the task of identifying sources of magic on Earth.]
Quite possibly, we're somewhere in the deepest reaches of North America. I can't tell you much more, however.
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I don't have a millimeter of interest in your personal complications, but in this situation, the most important tool at our disposal is information. The smallest detail could be the key to finding out what happened to us.
[North America, though ..... that certainly is exactly where his group was heading. But he doesn't even remember setting sail yet, much less landing. Could it be possible they crashed, and he sustained some kind of head trauma? ...No, he's ten billion percent sure that's not the case; he doesn't exhibit any of the typical symptoms for so much as a concussion, let alone a more serious traumatic brain injury. Not only that, but he's nowhere near a coastline of any kind. A coincidence, maybe, though he's loath to accept that.
He sighs.]
Guess North America is as good a guess as any, though, at least until we get more clues. We could start with asking the locals what they know. Any oral history they can offer us is better than nothing.
no subject
[Another sigh, and he sipped at his steaming tea. There was little need to explain further-- if they were all Interlopers, then someone who was said that they were already an Interloper should have been explanation enough.]
My confusion is how I can understand the signage that's left. My... Associate is the one who took it on himself to learn both English and Spanish as a means of communicating with the variety of people we meet. I know some English, but not nearly as much.
no subject
[Senku is still...searching for evidence that could explain his circumstances, here. The fact of the matter is that he fully had the intention to go somewhere, but became -- displaced, as it were, before ever setting out, as far as he's aware. If it's different for this man, there must be a reason for it.]
You might have picked up more in passing than you realized.
[Senku doesn't have a whole lot to say on any kind of subconscious processing or anything, not his department honestly. That's more of a Gen topic than he's got the expertise or interest in.]
But assuming you didn't, let's test it out.
[The scientific method will never steer u wrong ok]
Write some words down in Japanese that you definitely don't know in English. I'll mix up a bunch of translations for them and see if you can match the Japanese word to its English counterpart. If you can figure it out, we'll know something strange is going on with our language processing.
season 3 spoilers I'm sorry Batty.
[His eyes were narrowed, and his jaw was tight with bitterness as he spoke. The explanation was vague enough that one could assume he had emigrated to Japan from another country on Earth and was being forcibly returned, but the private truth of the trap he had unwittingly walked into remained heavy on his slim, very human shoulders.
What purpose did the Angels have in dragging him back to Ente Isla? Was he to be..bait? Or a pawn in a different game?
Either way: he was not in Japan or Ente Isla. All he could do was trust in his Liege and their comrades to find an answer on the outside while he worked from within.]
Sure, I'll give it a try.
[And, finding a pen and paper, he wrote out a few particular words that had helped him then he first arrived in Japan: yabai, wakarimasen, and doushite.]
i will definitely not understand them until i get there so its cool
My last memories are of preparing for a journey to North America, but we hadn't yet set sail. But you remember being taken somewhere against your will.
[But here's the thing. There are no other humans consciously awake on Earth for at least hundreds of miles, if anywhere. Everyone left in his area is either an ally or still petrified. It's more or less impossible for anyone to have kidnapped Senku.
Except then again, he doesn't know this man from Ishigami Village or Tsukasa's Kingdom of Might, and he's not dressed like the people living on Treasure Island. But he lived in Japan. He has no petrification scars.]
...I have an important question to ask you, but we should focus on one thing at a time. So let's do this first.
[He'd been hoping the man would put more words down so it wouldn't be a fully 1/3 chance of getting them right just out of sheer luck, but then he gets an idea. On the page, Senku writes: why, crazy, terrible, I don't understand, cool, and amazing.
If there is something strange going on with their ability to perceive language, he should be able to tell that several of those words go with yabai.]
no subject
...I didn't know yabai meant so many things,
[he confessed, realizing that he had taken yabai as more of a concept than a distinct word-- an exclamation of sorts, meant to invoke the enormity of a situation or an idea.]
I had picked up that word from the police when I arrived, and I realized quickly that people accepted it in various situations. It was great for helping people think that I understood while I was still learning the language...
[And, heaving a deep sigh, he splayed his hands out over the table.]
What do you make of this? What other questions did you have for me?
i'm so sorry he's Like This
Kehehe. Wow. You ten billion percent actually understood all those, didn't you. This is exhilarating.
[Sure, he could be actually fluent and bullshitting, but the man's surprise seems genuine.]
Here's the deal. I haven't read up on neuroscience as much as I'd like, and it'd be super sloppy work as a scientist to try to present a conclusion based on only a single data point, but...I can tell you what science does know about this, and make a pretty decent guess about what it means for our little experiment.
[better buckle in or run for the hills now, it's Science Lessons With Senku Ishigami Hours.]
So there's a spot in the brain that scientists call Wernicke's area. It's the reason anything I'm saying can mean anything to you at all, instead of just being a stream of random nonsense.
[He taps at his head, roughly where the temporal lobe would be.]
The field used to think that when a person knew more than one language, each of those languages were represented by different cerebral structures altogether. But with better imaging techniques like functional MRI, they found that bilinguals and even multilinguals pretty much activate the same brain regions when they're doing language tasks in each of their languages. The difference is in how much activation there is. See, blood releases more oxygen to parts of the brain which are doing more work, so by measuring those levels, you can find out which parts of the brain are the most active in which tasks, and researchers found out that there's usually more activation in your language areas like Wernicke's area in the language you're less proficient in.
[what was that about not having read as much neuroscience as he'd like--]
Then there's the matter of inhibitory control. See, usually, if you're talking to someone in one language, say, English, about the weather outside, you'd be using the word "snow". If you said yuki to someone who doesn't speak Japanese, they wouldn't know what you were talking about. But because a bilingual person knows both the words "snow" and "yuki", they have to be able to make decisions about which to use in what situation, inhibiting one response in favor of the other. That's where your executive function system comes into play. There's a lot of cortical structures involved with that, but the prefrontal cortex is at the center of it. You can think of it a little like a command room, managing all the little decisions that need to be made in going about your day. Here's where it gets interesting, though, because there's evidence that when bilingual people read interlingual homographs--that's words that look the same between languages but mean different things--they're activating the possibilities from both languages at the same time before their language control system settles on the one that fits the context.
...So there's something going on that's -- supercharged all those systems, maybe. Or the time we don't remember between where we came from and coming here involved some kind of flooding of input, so that when you're reading words you'd know in your own language, it's activating those other possibilities, as though you were already proficient in the language it's written in. I don't have nearly enough information to guess how that was done, though. It seems logical to assume it's the same force as whoever or whatever was responsible for our arrival, but that might just be apophenia. Worth looking into, either way.
[And don't worry, even after that huge lecture he didn't forget his original question
even though I did.]As for what I wanted to know...what year do you remember last? Before waking up here?
oh. my. God.
Ashiya felt numb after that torrent of unexpected words-- he was fairly sure ah I average human wouldn't care much about the particulars of the Wernicke's area of the brain and how brain activity looked in people who were multi-lingual. The fact that he was an 1100 year old demon who had spent just about a year living as a human in a Japan well after it had been forced open with the Industrial Revolution in the West didn't help this at all.
Ashiya pondered this metaphorical pile of information that sounded like nonsense for a moment, frowning as he contemplated the merits of explaining that the language his brain wanted to default to didn't even exist on Earth.
Instead, in the hushed tones of surprise that he was certain fit with such an impromptu lecture, he uttered the word that had helped him fake it in the days after his Liege had mind controlled a couple of officials into forging their identities.]
Yabai.
[It was truly all he could think of in response to the mini science lecture that he was certain only someone pursuing a career in medicine or language analysis could fully appreciate.
Fortunately. The following question was far easier to deal with-- he hadn't wanted to divulge the 'country' that he had supposedly 'emigrated' from and was being forcibly returned to.
Shiro Ashiya cleared his throat, still uncertain of how to react after the weight of that lecture.]
It's 2011. Why do you ask?
no subject
Besides, he's got bigger fish to fry now, anyway. His grin turns practically sharp.]
Because where I came from, it's 5741. So if you're from 2011....the only options are that this is evidence for the many-worlds interpretation of quantum mechanics... or time travel is real.
[He seems genuinely more excited about the latter possibility here.]
no subject
It's the first one. Multiple worlds actually exist, and I'm not surprised that time doesn't pass the same way between them.
no subject
Kehehe, no shit? ...When you say you're an Interloper, the place you came from isn't another country on Earth, is it.
no subject
[The words were spoken quickly, a tad on the defensive. Although Satan wasn't here, General Alciel wasn't about to compromise his King.]
I was taken through the Gate with others, but wound up here. Alone.
no subject
Tell me more about the Gate, though. Maybe we can build something like it to get home.
[Sorry bro, this is the guy unhinged enough to shoot for the literal sky and try to get a moon mission going after all modern technology was lost to the millennia following petrification. Ideas like "unreasonable goals" are nothing to him.]
no subject
[That much was said with certainty.]
It requires a powerful source of magic to even open, and I'm not capable of opening it myself.
no subject
A famous author in my world once said "Any sufficiently advanced technology is indistinguishable from magic." As long as it has rules, it's science.
[Man, he's missing Gen and his shady silver tongue right about now. As it is, Senku only knows how to be direct.]
What do you want for telling me what you know?
no subject
[Ente Isla was, in many ways, quite primeval in comparison. ]
We planned to bring along our appliances to see if we can make them work.
What do you have to offer?
no subject
[According to Matsukaze, the petrification devices had simply rained from the sky one day. It could easily be something like that.]
You're asking the wrong question. It's not about what I have, so much as what I can get.
[You're talking to a man who wholeass reinvented photography just to bribe a woman whose information he wanted.]
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i
Careful, there's a lot of stuff hidden by the snow here.
no subject
...The rifle on the kid's back gives Senku some pause, though. It'd taken a significant amount of resources just to make one hand-pistol that didn't even have rifling in the barrel, but that looks like something right out of the pre-petrification era. But that's ... impossible, isn't it? No 21st century weapons could withstand 3700 years of weathering.
He takes the boy's hand to get to his feet, though he immediately has to shift his weight onto his uninjured foot to keep from falling right back down.]
Thanks. I'm not really familiar with this area.
[A beat. He might as well try to get some answers, while he's at it.]
Where is this, anyway?
no subject
We're in Canada, by a town called Milton. Its up north.
[Most people seemed to know Canada, at least, so he's just going to assume Senku does too.]
I can take you into town. You can lean on me if you're having trouble.
2 - (see journal for CWs please!)
[Flat, dry, as cold as the air outside:]
You're asking the wrong person.
[He's as lost as you are. Encouraging!]