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singillppl2024-02-05 02:31 pm
singmod) wrote in singillppl2024-02-05 02:31 pm
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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.
no subject
Strange how that moment of silence can be so comfortable, for as wrong as this whole situation is. He turns back to the fireplace, and the dog pads up to settle down beside him, and the scavenger rifling through the kitchen seems to pointedly ignore the spark of sarcasm in his answer — it's almost like being home.
Maybe Tobi's lucky Maccready isn't paying that much attention; again he's unperturbed by the response until the very last moment. One of those jackets says the man knows Butch, too.
...and thinking about Butch is dangerous. He's been here three months. Ten years. 2287. If he's not back then — he needs to shut that emotion down before it gets out of hand. Lock the lead-heavy ache in his chest and focus on what those added context clues say about the man's identity. A kid who met Butch and remembers he helped a would-be doctor. ]
Alright. [ He peels himself away from the task of looting, because it's such an absurd suggestion that he has to look at him again when he says it. ] Tell me what's happening, then, if you're such a big smart mungo.
[ The barely-contained shit eating grin is a type of goading Tobi's always had down to an artform; he doesn't know if he wants this guy to be fucking with him or not, but he won't be the one to fold first either way.
Lay those cards out on the table, Maccready. ]
no subject
Adding the bit about the jacket might have been a bit much, but Maccready doesn't know the significance, just like doesn't really know Butch. He's in the same loose category as the man currently standing on the other side of the cabin — though, it's not a contest between which of the two he thinks is less of an asshole. Quietly, he watches the dog, the click-clack of his claws on the floor almost on beat with the scraping sound caused by the flint as he finally gets a spark.
He turns back when the man speaks up again, which means the eye roll that mungo elicits is more than visible, as is the way a corner of his mouth twitches upwards in spite of himself, because by rights this should not be amusing, and yet. Poking at the fire, the thing he manages to get started is barely of use, but it's something he supposes. With a sigh, he pulls off his hat and makes a half-hearted attempt at flattening his hair. ]
Nothing's happening, is it? [ Maybe cards was generous, it's more like card singular, and Maccready was never very good at keeping up this sort of games for very long. ] Just a vault kid and a kid mayor, stuck in the middle of fu— nowhere.
[ He says mayor with some derision, like he knows how absurd it sounds now that he's not twelve. It's about as close as he'll come to confirming who he is, though, card very much on the table at this point. His tone turns serious, though, as he watches the fire. ]
… So, what now?
no subject
No shit. [ One shoulder leans against the frame of the open archway as he takes in that expression. Catches the fumble but lets it slide without comment because he has more important things to think about. The longer he looks at the man, the more that incredulity bleeds into fascination. Maybe the resemblance was always there, or maybe it's just a byproduct of his imagination now that the idea's been put in his head — either way, it's uncanny. ] You've gotta be yanking my chain, there's no way that potato-faced little brat grew up so cute.
[ Bold words coming from Tobias Vuong, but there's no one else from Vault 101 here to call him on the double standard.
He's teasing, of course, not that it's ever that easy to read whether he really means it or is just trying to start a fight. Like a dog that knows to wag its tail before it bites: sometimes the smiles and the laughter are fake. Sometimes the joke is that he's going to kill you. ]
Don't tell me you're still playing soldier, too.
[ Dressed like a mercenary, sure, but even if it's not a combat helmet those colors and the shape of that hat are telling. He can't help but poke a little bit of fun at it.
Reaching into his jacket, he withdraws a cigarette...and a lighter. Flicks it open. Sparks up and closes it with a snap before sliding it back into his pocket, all without taking his eyes off of Maccready. ]
no subject
C'mon, what would I have to gain by lying, huh?
[ Nothing, more than likely. Maybe some time, but he can't see it being a real benefit. He figures stringing this along further would have just reflected poorly on him, and being on the wrong side of this man isn't what he wants. Of course, he's not entirely sure that he wants to be on the right side, either. Maybe somewhere comfortably in the middle, decidedly neutral.
The jab is probably meant to get a rise out of him, and he can't lie, a few years ago, but instead it treads on something else entirely, and it's almost impossible not to think of her when he says it. Any trace of humour he might have had fizzles away entirely at this point. The irony is, he kind of has been playing soldier, hasn't he? At least up until a few months ago, because that's definitely what the gunners see themselves as. They're nothing more than raiders with slightly better organisational skills. ]
… sure. Something like that. [ He's aware he's being watched, in part it's why he doesn't bother looking back towards Tobi, almost shrinks in on himself as he answers. ] Gotta make a living somehow.
we are soooo mentally well and healthy in this chili's tonight
He exhales slowly, a little more forcefully than he intended, and fights the flicker of a grimace he can feel threatening to break through his composure before he steps away from the wall.
...Ugh. He hadn't meant to hit that, whatever it is, some measure of guilt and grief he only knows on sight because it's part of the rot he carries inside him. ] You're telling me.
[ It's a grim way to try to appease him, to make that comparison. To suggest that whatever he's done, whatever the consequences, he can take solace in the fact he's not the worst person in the room. A lot could happen in ten years, but Maccready doesn't make a very convincing monster.
Crouching beside the man, he lets the cigarette dangle between his fingers and leans over Dogmeat to regard him. Still curious, but more solemn in tone when he asks: ] So why did you lie the first time?
[ Because that was a lie. You just got one of those faces, thought you were someone else. ]
https://i.imgur.com/REslnH2.gif
Back then, he couldn't understand how someone could do all those things, but the harsh realities of the wasteland hit people hard and fast. His eyes have long since been opened to the things people have to do just to get by, things he's had to do. He's not saying he understands now, not by any means, but it is harder to look at things and see them as black and white.
Letting his head fall back against the wall behind him, he sighs heavily and watches, cautious, as the man moves and crouches until he's at eye level. The question, at least, pulls a huff from him, the faintest trace of amusement at his own expense. Yeah, he supposes it was a lie. ]
Dunno. Panicked, I guess. Wanted to believe it, 'cause, uh… I mean, no offense, but you're… you.
[ Can he really be blamed for being uneasy? He points a finger in Tobi's direction, though, gestures vaguely. ]
And you still look like that. [ a beat. ] Not that I'd put it past one of you vaulties to have figured out time travel, but…
no subject
Damn, you're onto me. [ he jokes, because it's easier than letting himself be sidetracked by that quiet implication: that there are more survivors from other Vaults, enough to merit that kind of assumption. Figuring out how to get back to the Capital has to take priority, and with that off the table right now...
Eyes still on Maccready, he lifts the cigarette into a slow drag. Something thoughtful in his expression, one more difference between them — Maccready is cautious, but Tobi doesn't need to be; like a stalking deathclaw, he is calculated, confident, and entirely comfortable in his position. Finally, he bleeds the exhale aside and offers: ] Do you want a smoke?
'Cause the conversation we're about to have is either gonna be real fun or real harrowing depending on your outlook.
[ That's not meant to be menacing, genuinely. He just thinks it's fair to warn him. ]
no subject
There are plenty of things Maccready wants; a hot meal, a warm bath, a decent night's sleep in a proper bed — it's the cold exacerbating those desires, of that he has no doubt, but there are other things he could add to that list, too. The smell of cigarette smoke that fills the air is as intoxicating as always, enough to make him wish he hadn't smoked the last of his own. He wishes he could say it's a blessing that Tobi even offers, but it comes with a caveat. Conversation could mean just about anything, and he fears it probably errs more on the side of harrowing than fun. He fidgets briefly, scratches at the cuticle of his thumb with his index finger before extending his hand out with a short nod. ]
Alright, [ a sharp exhale through his nose. He's never been one to turn down a free smoke, no use in starting now. ] I hate the sound of whatever you have to say already, but I'm listening.
[ To his credit, he does shift his weight, sits a little more comfortably. Some of his initial wariness beginning to slip away as the immediate threat in his mind fades, or so he hopes. ]
no subject
Do me a favor first. [ While he speaks, he withdraws another cigarette to poke between Maccready's fingers. They're weird, here; definitely not two hundred years old, but not the kind of home grown that sometimes rides up on caravans from the south either. Not bad, but they might take some getting used to. ] I know you had radios, and I couldn't bend over to pick up a loose cap without Three Dog complaining to the whole wasteland about it.
[ That's almost true. There were certainly slow days when Three Dog would read out something about collecting random junk, or that he'd been spotted in a given area before speculating on some nefarious purpose or motive...but those weren't the only broadcasts. It should be hard for a reasonable person to compare that kind of harmless behavior to erasing entire settlements. Tobi says it without flinching. ]
Tell me what's the last thing you remember hearing about me?
[ He hasn't handed over the lighter. ]
no subject
[ As far as favors go, that's probably the tamest thing that's been asked of him. With his free hand, he rubs at his eyes, exasperate, bemused, maybe a bit of both. Yeah, they had radios, not that they listened all the time. Especially not when Three Dog was yakkin' on about whatever it was the Lone Wanderer was up to next — some of the smaller kids didn't like hearing it. ]
I'll be honest, a lot of it kinda blurs together. [ It's the egregious shit that sticks out in his mind the most, not whatever nonsense Three Dog thought was newsworthy on any given day. Megaton comes to mind, the implications of dealings within Paradise Falls that left a sour taste in his mouth. He recalls the Commonwealth coming up once, too, something happened out in Rivet City. That's something he'll have to put a pin in for later. ] It's weird, 'cause you were all he could talk about for a while there, and then— [ he makes a gesture with his hands as if to say poof. ] Nothin'.
[ It occurs to him, then, that while it might not be a test, it could be something else. If whatever brought them here — those lights or something else entirely — if it could grab them both from completely different points in time… Shit, he hopes he's not being asked if Three Dog gleefully delivered the news of 101's demise. His expression falters, turns more serious. ]
There were rumors you'd been spotted heading west at some point, but I don't know much else after that.
no subject
He wants to believe what comes after, and that's why he can't afford to trust it. ]
Sounds about right. [ Not really. The only ones who knew about his plans were Burke and the gang, and none of them would go to GNR and lie about it. Something doesn't add up, but it's the closest thing he has to hope right now...so he won't question it. ]
You had to leave Lamplight eventually, right? Did you ever go to Big Town?
[ Another pull on his cigarette following the question. Dogmeat rests his head on his paws and heaves a big sigh, and he reaches down to ruffle between his ears. ]
no subject
We all leave, that's how it works. Still does, as far as I know. But, uh, eventually ended up there, yeah. [ It wasn't a place he'd ever thought he'd have stayed, anyway. Seeing a couple of people there for the first time in however long had been okay, he guesses, but for the most part it was nothing more than a pit-stop. ] Didn't hang around for long though, passed through a few places, doing odd jobs and stuff. Never really stayed in one place…
[ He thinks it's probably a bore to hear about, and his words trail off, unsure if the other man even actually cares — and he can't figure out why he would — but, mostly thinking about those first handful of months outside of Lamplight means remembering how goddamn awful it was. Weirdly lonely, at times. Looking back up towards Tobi, he fixes him with a pointed stare, holds up the cigarette. ]
I answered your question, least you can do.
[ If there are more question, he'll answer those to his best effort, too, but not before he fills his lungs with smoke. ]
no subject
It doesn't sound like that's the case, though, or if it is that Maccready might not have heard about it. He's listening, plainly curious, and admittedly a bit disappointed when the other man trails off...before that blunt suggestion pokes a laugh from him that puffs out like he's surprised. Like he'd forgotten about it, maybe. ]
Yeah, sure. [ A tighter grin, trying not to laugh too much at his own stupid joke before he says it: ] I can buttfuck you.
[ No problem, man. There's an expectant arch of his brow over his shades as he sets the cig back to his lips and tilts forward, playful, angled slightly like what he's offering is a kiss instead of, you know, a real solemn light from one man to another. ]
no subject
Pff, you wish. [ Muttered under his breath as it may be, it comes with very little thought. It really is like being at home. Unperturbed, though, he settles the cigarette to his lips all the same, manages to hold back yet another roll of his eyes at Tobi's display. ] Real cute. How'd you put up with this guy, huh, buddy?
[ Addressing Dogmeat this time, as he regards Tobi. Maccready doesn't get him at all; the briefest of encounters a lifetime ago and whatever Three Dog spouted about him on the radio sit in stark contrast to whatever this is, the easy way in which he flits between playfulness and being a borderline threat. Like, sure, anyone from the Capital can say they've heard of him, that kid from Vault 101 — and Maccready's never actually thought of him as a kid until right now — but how many people can say they actually know him? Who is he, really.
He's getting ahead of himself, and thinking about it now isn't exactly going to do him much good. Instead, he shifts his weight, leans over the dog that's still laying between them and angles his jaw up. Maybe the fire would've been the better option… ]
no subject
Do you think he'd really have collapsed the caves on a bunch of kids? Over a trade dispute and some fungus?
Plenty of people know the answer to that, despite the exaggerated nature of his reputation. To his credit, he doesn't laugh — stays perfectly still until Maccready's lit, even with Dogmeat's tail thwacking at his ankle in unabashed delight at being spoken to — and his tone's only somewhat insufferably smug when he withdraws again to answer: ]
Don't mistake him for an angel, just 'cause he's got that sweet face. He'll pull one over on you twice as fast and for half as much dinner.
[ To which Dogmeat sneezes, and Tobi looks down at him before gesturing broadly with the hand holding his cigarette. As if that's exactly his point. ] Uh huh. Liar.
[ But all that's just a distraction. Like everything. The wind's picked up; he can hear it whistling through the trees and drawing a shudder along the outside of the cabin. Glancing back at Maccready, he offers a softer smile — without the usual teeth — and says plainly, ] I tried to convince Red to move things, you know?
[ It has the air of an admission. That's why he asked about Big Town. ]
Somewhere more defensible. But she was worried after so long it'd be harder for the kids trying to find it. Or they'd run into more raiders in the wastes. I don't know.
no subject
Once the cigarette is lit, he takes a drag — and it's longer than he probably should, it tastes different, catches in the back of his throat unexpectedly, and he pulls back so he doesn't cough in Tobi's face. He manages not to cough, fortunately, but that doesn't stop it burning his throat or leaving an odd taste in his mouth. ]
Oh, c'mon, [ he clears his throat. ] No way you can stay mad at that face.
[ Lesson learned, the next inhale he draws on the smoke is a bit short-lived compared to the first, a quiet hum and a shake of his head as Tobi speaks. ]
I didn't, no, but… [ His brow furrows slightly. ] You weren't wrong to, I didn't actually realise how far it was from Lamplight until I had to walk there — you'd think moving somewhere closer couldn't have hurt. Hell, even Arefu might've been better, I don't know.
[ There's an edge to his tone, it's obviously something he's thought about, a frustrating sticking point. Realistically? He thinks they should stop kicking everyone out when they turn sixteen. He considers himself lucky, he's a good shot, and he knows it, but the same can't be said for other kids making the journey to Big Town. It's frustrating, because Lamplight itself is defensible, they'd be significantly better off if they continued working together, kept numbers up. But try explaining that to a bunch of kids who've been taught not to listen to anyone, even if they're from the damn place. ]
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He hadn't considered Arefu, though, and something stills in him when Maccready mentions it. Don't ask, he tells himself. You don't need to know. ]
Did you spend any time in Arefu?
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Not really. Stopped by maybe a handful of times. The guy running things — Evan? — I don't think he liked me much, so I never stuck around longer than I needed to.
[ To be fair, 22-year-old Maccready wouldn't like dealing with his 16-year-old self, either. But, he doesn't really know why Tobi is asking, could be he's invested in the place, or maybe couldn't care less and is just curious. ]
… seemed like they were doing okay, though? Never really had any work to offer, and they didn't seem to have any trouble, least not any that I heard of.
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He doesn't quite like that Maccready seems to have followed the question to its natural conclusion; stupid as it is to want to have expected otherwise. There's nothing really meaningful in his answer, either, besides that revelation.
Don't ask, Tobi tells himself. This time he listens.
Biting his tongue, he turns his gaze aside to...something. He doesn't even know what, too busy staring at the picture in his thoughts. ]
So how'd you end up here?
[ Not exactly a fair question, when he's pretty sure Maccready still doesn't know where 'here' is, but he wants to hear it from his perspective first. In a way it's a trade-off, in his mind: a leading question, for the mercy of not following the trail of details that ends in whatever wretched memory gripped them earlier. ]
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[ It'd almost pass as a whine if not for the low laugh. It is the unfortunate reality of the matter, though. Wherever they are, it's not the Capital, not the Commonwealth, either. He's barely grasping at the concept of time being non-linear, and as unbelievable as it might be it's not entirely far-fetched, is it? The idea of being in a different, alternate world hasn't even entered his mind. ]
We— [ mm, no. ] I didn't stick around in the Capital. I'd been running with some caravans for a while, managed to convince one of 'em to let me ride with them further north. Anyway, I'm gonna take a wild guess and say it had something to do with a voice and the green lights we saw in the sky, and hope that you saw something similar, or else I sound insane.
[ There's… a lot of omission there, and he's aware he probably sounds like he's skirting around the topic, too. Some things he doesn't feel like talking about right now, but he figures it's enough to let him know that whatever it is that resulted in them being here, it can't be localised to one area. ]
narrator: he was in fact not fine or dealing with it
Yeah, well it'd take a lot for you to sound crazy to me. World's fucked, man. [ It's a relief that Maccready's processed as much as he has already, because it means maybe he won't waste their time thinking Tobi's got some reason to be making up bullshit. ] And a lot fucking bigger than anyone acts like it is.
[ Where to begin... ]
Aliens are real. Like in the comics. And there's something under the Capital that I don't even know what is, but it's a lot weirder than that.
[ The way he reaches up to card his fingers through his hair, pausing to sigh before he shakes them loose, is an anxious tell he'd like to think he has complete control of, normally. Part of the presentation, the fact that he's being as honest and straightforward as no one ever expects the Devil to be. ]
So, you know, I'm not even that mad that there's some kind of transdimensional aurora connected to a town in another reality that's been eaten by an angry ghost of the apocalypse or whatever. I'm dealing with it.
[ He is dealing with it. The way he dealt with Jonas's death, and the first time he woke up with hands around his throat. Too many hands reaching, grasping, jagged nails peeling raw flesh heaving a bloated, rubbery corpse out of the water. Prayers for forgiveness; seeing bits of his own brain on the outside.
He's fine. He's fucking dealing with it.
But he expects most people wouldn't swallow the idea as easily, couldn't stomach it if they did, so he keeps his eyes on Maccready and measures his reaction to the absolute nonsense he just spouted at him in the impassive tone of someone complaining about the weather. ]
But just as an FYI, so far it looks like there's shit dick all we can do about it except try not to die.
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He's staring, he knows he is, smoke trailing from the end of his cigarette as he takes in everything he's just said. It wasn't a lot, really, in terms of the amount of words used, and yet it was simultaneously so much. If it were any other person sat opposite him, he would call bullshit. Something about the way he states it so plainly, though, he can't bring himself to not believe it in some capacity — maybe it's cryptic, metaphor or the like.
One thing he thinks he can say for sure, is that he's not convinced Tobi's dealing with it at all, actually. If it all sounds as bad as he says, how is anyone supposed to deal with that? Slowly, he takes a drag of the cigarette, exhales deeply and heavily. ]
Okay. [ Stated with the air of someone who is still very much processing all of… that. His lips pull into a thin line, serious as he watches the man opposite, shakes his head, and before he can catch himself; ] Fuck, man.
[ Just this once, he thinks it's probably permissible. He runs a hand through his own hair, shoulders sagging. ]
So, let me get this straight. We're stuck. Wherever this is, with… what was it, an angry apocalypse ghost. Yeah, okay, sure. [ The laugh that draws from him is the emptiest sounding thing imaginable, this isn't funny at all. It seems even he has his limits. ] Try not to die, what's new there, then?
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It wouldn't even bother Tobi if he wasn't...if it'd happened sooner. The thought crawls up his throat: he didn't want to be the one to leave. But that same sense of responsibility is what lets him smother that feeling, watching the way the revelation hits Maccready. And then weighs on him.
So he forces himself to smile. Speak lightly and with confidence, as if it really isn't all that much of a burden. Let him carry it. Let him lead by example. ]
Yeah, see. You get it. [ As if there was never any doubt Maccready would; of course another wastelander understands that sometimes the only thing you can do is choose to survive whatever bullshit life tries to bury you in. ] Stay with me.
[ That's a deliberate challenge as much as a request, because now he's getting into the details: ]
The town's called Milton — like the author — and apparently we're up in Canada somewhere off the mainland. All the dates suggest it's 2015, but it's not our 2015 because the technology is weird.
Seriously, just look at it when you get the chance. Any house, any car on the road. It's all basic electronics. No robots. No reactors or anything, like they just never bothered with atomics. This— [ he taps his pip-boy over where the geiger counter rests in its casing, without even looking at it ] —hasn't clicked once since I've been here.
But none of it fucking works unless it's powered by batteries, and even then it's all kind of messed up because everything comes back on with a vengeance whenever the Aurora happens.
[ Maccready mentioned the lights; maybe he remembers the machines around him going haywire before everything went dark. Either way it's here that Tobi pauses, pointedly, to give him room to interject. There's more he could say. There's more he wants to say. But he wants to make sure Maccready is getting it, because he's only going to offer that much once. ]
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He gets it. He wishes he didn't. And that request tells him all he needs to know is that there's more. A tilt of his head at the name of the town, and maybe unexpectedly, a nod — he knows the name, at the very least. A slow arch of his brow at the revelation that they're in Canada. The past, but not their past. None of it makes sense, it all sounds like it's been pulled right from an old radio play. ]
What do you mean it hasn't— [ weirdly, he looks uncomfortable. That annoying click had become such a familiar sound, he'd grown almost used to it. So distorted is his world view that the notion is disconcerting. It's lucky that he's been travelling with another vault dweller, he supposes, that he has a frame of reference. ] But they're battery-operated, right? So they should work…
[ There's a light shake of his head, dismissing his own train of thought. It can't be that the pip-boy isn't functioning, he can see that is operating, which means, what? A world without radiation? What a concept. ]
How long have you been here?
[ It's his turn to ask questions, even though he isn't entirely sure he wants to hear the answer. If he's been here for weeks, months, even? Maccready doesn't have that kind of time to be stuck in some other world, he can't— A thought strikes him. He's here, but he wasn't alone. She could be here too, already in this town he'd spoke of. If there's a sliver of a possibility that it's just him here, though, he'd like to hope she'd stick to what they were there for in the first place. He chews on his lip before speaking up again. ]
And, a follow-up; were you, y'know, with anyone else before you wound up here? Other than him, I guess.
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It doesn't register as unusual to him that Maccready understands that much about the pip-boy...they're rare, sure, but intuitive enough that he thinks just about anyone who's seen one up close could make those connections. Never mind where he saw it, exactly. ]
A couple of months. [ He answers simply, and then does something Maccready might not expect: he tabs the pip-boy over to one of its data screens, and then holds his arm out to Maccready, wrist angled so that he can read and interact with it easily. The clock in the corner proclaims that it's July of 2278, and the unmoving map in the center depicts an area of the Capital Wasteland that's not that far to the northeast of Little Lamplight, actually.
There are other notes and recordings Maccready could access, if he wants to. Status screens prominently displaying a number of biometric readouts. A radio that will currently produce only low static. Tobi wouldn't mind, and either way he continues. ]
I got here in December, which is funny 'cause it was May before I woke up.
[ Another pause. This time it seems to be a result of him considering his answer, because he seems to come to a conclusion shortly before adding: ]
No, I was alone. Picking up something from a safe house. It was supposed to be a short trip.
[ Now there's someone here from ten years later, and he's even more certain he needs to figure out how to get back precisely. ]
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tells your oc about my oc through a mouthpiece