April 2024 Test Drive Meme

[singmod]

APRIL 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 — FROM FROTH-CORRUPTED LUNGS: The heavy fog plaguing the Northern Territories takes a far more deadly and sinister turn.

PROMPT THREE — SHARP CLAWS, YAWNING MAWS: Interlopers come face to face with another native animal to the Northern Territories stalking the rockier areas — and unfortunately, these feline beasts have also been warped by the Aurora.

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 April will find themselves waking up in a world filled with freezing cold fog, cold enough that it will feel as if your skin is burning. A kind of cold that will not shake easily. It will be easy to get lost in the fog. Best hope there's someone out here that might come across you to help you find your way.

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 smell it through the fog: the scent of smoke that seems to cling in the still air. Fire. Not just one, but several perhaps. Civilization...?

Follow it, and soon enough the way you’ve taken will certainly become a path or road. Unfolding before you in the foggy mountainous forests, you’ll see the most welcome of sights, even if it may appear a little eerie in the half-light gloom: 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.

Towards the center of town, you’ll find the building where many people seem to gather: 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. Everyone looks as though they could faint from the cold at any second, damp and shivering.

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, this fog has made it so difficult.” 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.

FROM FROTH-CORRUPTED LUNGS

WHEN: The month of April.
WHERE: Everywhere.
CONTENT WARNINGS: supernatural/extreme weather; poisonous fog; potential respiratory/lung-related illness/injury; potential burn injuries; themes of peril

A thick fog has descended onto the Northern Territories as April comes, often difficult to navigate in and a kind of cloying damp that often brings a certain kind of wicked chill to Interlopers out travelling in it. The kind that sinks in one’s bones and takes too long to be chased away with heat and dry clothes. Sometimes, it feels almost suffocating, like it’s exhausting to be out in it — as if one might feel more like they’re underwater than on dry land, struggling to breathe if they’re out in it for too long.

It’s certainly a miserable affair for those in this world, the cold was bad enough without this.

And certainly, it can get even worse.

Maybe it’s a trick of the light, the strange thickness of the fog in the pale Spring light, but you notice in certain patches there’s… an almost green tint to the fog. You don’t have time to look at it for long. It descends upon you with a fluid steadiness, silent in its approach.

To touch the fog with bare skin, a hand, even the exposed face — you will be met with a sudden burning pain, far different to the biting cold pain of the rest of the fog. As soon as the green fog comes into contact with you, it slowly begins to burn at you — searing away at any flesh, a slow and terrible experience.

To breathe it in will be an even worse experience: it will feel as if one is slowly inhaling tiny fragments of glass, and each breath will be painful and suffocating. Coughing up blood is likely, and being out in it for too long will bring a slow, agonising death of suffocation.

Heading indoors is the best bet to ensure survival, with plugging up any doors and windows or drafty spaces to ensure the fog doesn’t seep inside. After that, it seems like the only thing you can do is wait it out. Hopefully you're stuck inside with a friendly face, and somewhere with a fire. Otherwise, it's going to be a bad time trapped inside waiting it out. The fog will eventually dissipate, and all that Interlopers will be able to see is the usual cold fog — but that could take hours of waiting.

Burns to the skin can be treated with typical medical care, and bathing the wounds will cleanse them of any lingering poison, but Interlopers should take care of signs of infection in the days afterwards. For those who suffer from inhalation of this green fog, Methuselah will direct them to Reishi mushrooms — known for their antibiotic healing properties and can be found in abundance in the world. Interlopers will find that breathing in the steam from boiling and steeping these mushrooms in water will soothe their lungs and help in the healing process.

SHARP CLAWS, YAWNING MAWS

WHEN: April, onwards.
WHERE: Milton wilds; Milton Mines (Lakeside Entrance) area; The Ravine area.
CONTENT WARNINGS: animal attacks, altered wildlife, gore, possible character injury/death, possible animal injury/death.

Certain kinds of wildcats are native to Canada and thus the Northern Territories. They are elusive animals, often keeping to themselves and have largely gone unseen by the Interlopers during their time here in this world. But the world is changing, and it has long been understood that wildlife has been altered due to the Aurora’s influence — particularly with wolves. Unfortunately, these solitary and evasive felines will not remain this way for long.

The wildcats tend to stick to the more mountainous areas of the Northern Territories: Milton’s outskirts being a primary example of this, but also the sheltered and rocky passage Interlopers must take if they are to travel through the mines and down the train tracks that lead into Lakeside. It is here in particular that they make their appearance with the recent footfall between the areas.

For newer Interlopers, it is a frightening sight. For some Interlopers who have been in this world for some time, it is an all too familiar sight to behold but no less terrifying. These beasts are warped by the Aurora and are far bigger and faster than any usual wildcat, with huge, hulking bodies, elongated fangs and unlike wolves: they can climb. Green, glowing smoke curls from their bodies and eyes, a kind of electrical current rippling over their coats with a strange shimmer. They lurk from above and wait for the opportune moment to strike — a far more silent and deadly attack than the wolf packs of last year. But if you’re paying attention, you might be able to spot them before they make their move.

These altered beasts will come no more than three at a time, but will usually attack alone. They will work with a frenzied determination to bring you down and make you their next meal. Cats, after all, are obligate carnivores. They will enjoy giving chase, and running will be the worst thing to do in dealing with them. It is best to stand your ground and try to fight back this way.

They are frightened of flames, and loud noises from gunfire or flares will keep them at a distance — but it’ll take a decent amount of ammunition to take them down, much like their canine counterparts Interlopers already encountered. Taking one down will be no small feat, but there will likely be the reward of a thick, warm pelt for those interested.

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.

FROM FROTH-CORRUPTED LUNGS

1. Skin open to the elements is at the most risk of being burned, so it's best to wrap up/cover any bare skin. Covered skin would eventually burn if Interlopers spent enough time in the fog to have their clothes saturated by the damp.

2. Breathing in the fog is the most pressing issue for everyone as a whole. The green fog can affect Interlopers who don't breathe.

SHARP CLAWS, YAWNING MAWS

1. Bobcat, Canada Lynx, and Cougar are the three kinds of wildcat native to Canada. Due to the Aurora's influence, these wildcats are bigger, faster and stronger than typical wildcats — with Cougars being the largest of the three.

2. Killing them is difficult, but not impossible. Scaring them will be far easier to accomplish than killing them.

3. Wildcat activity will continue onwards from April, but will reduce with the Interlopers' efforts to fight them back.

4. Wildcat is technically edible. But not advised due to parasites. Characters are still welcome to harvest the wildcats they kill, however.

TALES FROM THE NORTHERN TERRITORIES NEWSLETTER

Comments

Leonard McCoy | Star Trek (AOS)

[homeostatic]

arrival

( Yorktown is gone, the soft warmth of evening twilight filtering through the windows of his Fleet-issued quarters traded for harsh, biting cold, for an iron-dark sky and an unfamiliar winter landscape. Bones sits up sharply and promptly regrets it when his joints ache in protest, stiff from cold, from two days of schlepping an injured Vulcan around in enemy territory. A late morning debriefing was what he expected, not a mattress of hard rock, or tendrils of fog lapping at the soles of his boots.

Is he dreaming?

Fuck.

He pushes past the hollow sensation in his gut, the rising chill spreading into his limbs, and manages to lever himself to his feet. Just that afternoon, he'd traded in his filthy Science blues for the station's duty uniform, and he's glad for it now as he emerges from the cave, fastening the jacket up to the collar with a tight shiver. It isn't meant to shield him from cold like this, but as the alternative is lying in the mouth of a cave and succumbing to the bitter cold, Bones makes his way toward the dun-colored path between the trees.

He finds the Fleet-issue phaser in a drift nearby, taking it up alongside the tricorder not far from it. Both seem on the fritz – of course, why would anything work when I need it to – but he continues on, holstering the weapon and giving the small device a shake. )

Okay. ( It's a muttered mantra, while he settles the panic curling in his belly. Questioning the how and why can happen later. Follow the path, obscured as it is by the relentless fog, and find a fucking settlement, a structure, something to get out of the cold before he goes hypothermic.

Maybe he gets a little loud with talking to himself. ) Okay. Okay.

Of course, it would've been too convenient to be abandoned somewhere that isn't colder than a witch's tit–

the fog

( The cabin isn't an ideal escape from the rolling green fog, but they've made it work for now, plugging spaces in the shutters and doors with anything they could scavenge from the place: wash rags, a dusty coverlet, even a throw pillow from the couch, shoved into the hole in the rotting doorframe.

Murky light tinted the same sick green as the fog bleeds in through a skylight above them, mercifully watertight against their silent attacker. Bones breathes a sigh, not feeling safe, not by a long shot, but at least feeling safeer than if they'd tried to make their way out in the open. He shoves back the hood of his jacket and glances aside to his unlikely companion. )

You all right?

( He asks the question while the skin on his knuckles is tight and red with a burn, less important to him than this other person's well-being. )

wildcard

( Say hi to the grump! I had his gal counterpart on the previous tdm & then unfortunately needed a break from RP, but I'm up for transferring those starters onto this dummy, or starting fresh. Bones will be at the feast, though he's gonna miss the wildcat shenanigans. Feel free to hit me up with any questions! )

wildcard — the feast

[rescapee]

[ The uniform catches her attention from across the room in the Community Hall. It's not a design she's familiar with, but Starfleet is constantly making upgrades and slight adjustments for different stations, so it's easy to assume this must be one such situation. Blue is what grabs her eye, the exact shade one she'd recognize anywhere, and the delta on his chest is like a weight lifting from her chest.

James is here, and she's so grateful to have him back in her life, but this man is Starfleet. He's part of the only family she has left, and it doesn't matter that she's never set eyes on him before.

Quickly crossing the space between them, her combat uniform stands out like a beacon among the others in the Hall, and the phaser rifle hanging at her side isn't exactly nondescript. ]

You're a sight for sore eyes, sir. [ It's a slightly more collegial greeting than she might usually employ, attempting to bridge the gap between personable and deferential until she can confirm her reading of the man's rank given the uniform differences. ] Lieutenant La'an Noonien-Singh. Have you just arrived?

[homeostatic]

( Exchanging anything more than basic intros with the locals could wait, as he'd set himself to the task of getting warmth back into all extremities. Unaware he's anything more than another unknown in a sea of strangers, Bones looks askance at the woman when she draws near, and turns where he's standing by the fire to listen to her.

Command gold catches his eye first, then the firelight gleaming off the familiar delta, a trace of home on this unfamiliar Earth.

Except...

'Noonien-Singh' catches in his rising sense of relief like a sudden barb. It's a quick sting, gone again just as fast. Khan is only a fading memory now, and the scars he left have long since healed.

There are a hundred questions he wants to ask her, but he shoves them to the back burner, and opts to take her as she is: Starfleet, lost like him, and now his responsibility.

Bones releases a sigh, and can't help the gruff complaint: )

If you call waking up half-frozen in a cave an arrival, Lieutenant.

( He manages a sort of grim smile, the kind reserved for crowded medbays and all hands on deck. )

Lieutenant Commander Leonard McCoy. I'm guessin' you just got here too. ( with a gesture at her own uniform, though odds are she's more insulated than him. ) Make it all here in one piece?

[rescapee]

[ La'an has been with Christopher Pike and the incredible crew of the Enterprise for so long that she doesn't brace herself for the recognition and reaction to her family name. Not too long ago, she would have expected a derisive look, or perhaps a questioning of her abilities, or even outright revulsion at her mere existence, but some part of her has been healed over these past months. So it's a good thing he doesn't outwardly show that thought process — that would have set them off to a rocky start.

A lieutenant commander. A rank above her, then, but at least he's not an admiral. Still, her back straightens slightly, years of ingrained training automatically kicking in.

She glances down at her combat gear, the black suit with red armor plating designed for a range of temperature conditions that unfortunately do not include long-term exposure to freezing conditions. ] No permanent damage, though the fog was certainly an unpleasant experience.

[ There's no smile on her lips, grim or otherwise, as she gestures to the people around them. ] I arrived a few hours ago and have been gathering information about our situation. How much do you already know, sir?

[homeostatic]

Less than I'd like.

( Her conduct is an odd sort of comfort he hadn't expected to find here, direct and level-headed, on task and focused. Points in her favor.

He continues massaging warmth back into his tingling palms and still-chilled fingers, and clarifies the statement, )

We're not the first folks to be transported here. 'Here' being Milton, in the Northern Territories of Canada. Town's cut off from the rest of the world, and the fog's a new phenomenon.

( Bones opens and closes his hands a few times, pressing his fingertips into his palms. )

And that's about as far as I got before I had to thaw out. What else do you know?

[rescapee]

[ Ah, so just the bare minimum, then. Guess that leaves her with the fun job. Hopefully his career will have prepared him for accepting the unusual and rolling with whatever the universe decides to throw at him.

Taking a deep breath, she nods her understanding and folds her hands behind her back. This is the strangest briefing she's ever given, but it's far from the hardest. She keeps her voice low, not wanting to be overheard by anyone who isn't ready for the situation they've been thrust into. Causing a panic will only do more harm than good, after all. ]

Of the people in this room, the only one native to this area is the old man, Methuselah. Everyone else has been brought here in the same fashion as we were, seemingly without explanation or reason, from across different points in time and even different timelines and realities. And as far as anyone yet knows, there is no safe way to leave this place, though there have been multiple deaths and disappearances since the first group arrived.

[ There's little show of emotion as she speaks, a lifetime of keeping it all under the surface serving her well. Of course, that's not to say she isn't feeling anything. Deep down, there's a thread of panic twisting up inside her, but she has to be strong for these people. For James. ]

[homeostatic]

( Bones throws a glance over La'an's head to the old man in question, but his gaze soon snaps back to her. Several emotions cross his face at once: shocked alarm and disbelief, a glimpse of cold horror, angry ferocity, and bitter, weary acceptance. Because yeah, different timelines and realities? He's dealt with that long ago.

Pinching the bridge of his nose, he reels in the absolute explosion of frustration he'd like to let out, instead settling on a low groan of: )

My God.

( Letting that settle, he rubs away the sting from his eyes, takes a deep breath, and folds his arms across his chest. )

Thank you, Lieutenant. That's... terrifying. ( Christ, where does he even start. They're here for no rhyme or reason, no discernible cause, and no way home.

He's been through worse. But through a different reality?

To forestall the unraveling that'll surely happen if he keeps tugging at that thread, he straightens. )

Alright. There's nothing we can do for anyone here just yet, not until we get ourselves squared away. Warm clothes, a hot meal, and a place to stay. Which one you feel like handling first?

( the implication being that he'll be handling the tasks with her, not expecting her play gofer to his whims. )

the feast!

[itio]

[ Jim isn't holding out hope that he'll find anyone here from his world. Well, maybe 'hope' isn't the right word. He wouldn't wish this place on anyone, but having people around he knows he can rely on can make a world of difference.

He's only made acquaintances as it is, and beyond that, there's just La'an. Maybe another familiar face or two wouldn't be the worst thing. And while this man's face is not at all familiar to him, it's the insignia pinned to his uniform that draws Jim's attention.

Just like La'an's. That can only mean one thing. ]

Here. [ He sets a mug of hot coffee down on a table nearby, offering a friendly smile once the man looks up. ] Looked like you might need it.

[ One of the few good things around here. Surprising that coffee's just a thing that exists in a post-apocalyptic scenario like this, but Jim isn't about to look a gift horse in the mouth.

Taking a seat next to McCoy, he taps at his own chest, mirroring where he's wearing his badge. ] Starfleet?

\o/

[homeostatic]

( The steaming mug is a welcome sight, and he could use another friendly face around here. McCoy manages a wan smile – not a grimace, at least – and plucks the mug from the table, letting the warmth of it seep into his bones. )

Very kind of you, thank you.

( He's not so prickly he won't welcome the company, either, though he's hardly expecting that next question. Swallowing down the sip of wonderfully bitter coffee, lest he choke on it, he looks squarely at the man. At home on Earth, recognition from the average citizen is commonplace; everyone knows Starfleet.

Out here, with a mishmash of folks from God knows where and when, he feels lucky that La'an found him. McCoy lowers the mug to his lap. )

Sure am; Leonard McCoy. Where are you from?

Re: \o/

[itio]

[ Jim smiles at the reaction, though he isn't surprised. It's one small comfort that most everyone here appreciates, and from just looking at the man, he figured it would be a welcome offer. ]

Not from your universe, I'm afraid, [ He starts, feeling like it's only fair he clears that up right from the get-go. ] But I've been told there's a Starfleet version of me, at least. James T. Kirk. United Earth Fleet.

[ It's probably a lot to ask that McCoy even knows who he is, but some recognition would be nice. He... thinks. ]

1/2

[homeostatic]

[homeostatic]

( It's a good thing he's left off drinking anymore coffee, because there's a solid chance that would have gone all over the floor, himself, and this James T. Kirk that looks and sounds not a goddamn thing like the man he knows.

What.

Wait, no, he's finding his voice through the shock, looking hard for any trace of his old friend. The easy smile, perhaps, the way he carries himself; a familiar glint in unfamiliar eyes– or is he merely just hoping he sees him?

Ambassador Spock had come from another universe like theirs, the ripple that became a rift that became a branching timeline. Part of himself would always be defiant to any idea that his life was lived before him, by another Leonard McCoy that the Ambassador held in so high esteem.

Doctor or no, he kind of wants to knock this Jim's block off, an existential crisis that resolves itself in a few short seconds. )

Bullshit.

( Flawless argument. )

[itio]

[ There's about a handful of reactions he's more or less ready for. A complete lack of recognition is one of them; after all, as much as he has made a name for himself, he can't know for sure what point in time this man comes from. Another he expects is confusion, at least in regards to him mentioning being from an alternate reality. But if this man knew any version of him, he would have expected for him to have recognized him by now.

So that disbelief is a little unexpected, Jim's eyebrows arching up his forehead, lips curling in a mix of confusion and amusement. ]

I'm sorry?

[ Did this guy just— you know, call him a liar? ]

I am James T. Kirk. And... you know me, I take it?

[homeostatic]

( His small bark of laughter is humorless, while his fingers drum against the sides of the mug, restless. )

I've known James T. Kirk for the better part of a decade, alright. We went to the Academy together; he's my captain, for Christ's sake.

( Captain, best friend, the first person to get past Leonard's prickly exterior all those years ago after that shuttle to San Francisco, believing he was more than just a soggy drunk with a failed marriage.

Maybe it's for Jim's sake that he stays in his seat. Fine, he'll hear him out. )

Where'd you say you were from? 'United Earth Fleet'?

[itio]

Of the Enterprise, I take it. I'm also captain of the Enterprise.

[ His first guess is this man is from some time after him. He's fairly sure the Kirk in La'an's timeline hadn't made it to captain yet, so that about lines up.

Questions are to be expected at this point, after all he's just told his guy he's an alternate version of a close friend of his. Well, he figures they're close friends, anyway. ]

Yes. In my reality, Earth is uninhabitable. We've built colonies on several planets and moons, Luna being our main settlement. The year is 2259 for me— so if you knew me already at that point in time, I'm sorry to say that we've never met in my reality.

[ If McCoy even exists, in his reality. That's a definite possibility that he won't bring up, though he expects McCoy to realize it himself. ]

[homeostatic]

Mhmm.

( Stands to reason, sure. Captain across the multiverse, a universal truth.

Though he's hardly expecting Jim to unveil a history such as that. Earth is inhabitable? Dear Lord, why? The thought that he might not exist is there, sure, but so much less of a concern to the greater revelation. Earth's past for him was fraught with war and destruction, but they had rebuilt. )

2263.

( That might be it, feeling tongue-tied, but he manages a quiet: )

I'm sorry about Earth, Jim.

[itio]

[ Jim can't say he's surprised by the reaction. If McCoy's Starfleet, then he must be from a reality that's closer to La'an's than his own. It has to be a shock to hear about a universe where Earth has been entirely abandoned.

But for all of McCoy's careful sympathy, Jim doesn't seem too bothered. He smiles a little, and shakes his head. ]

It's fine. Been that way for a long time— well before I was born, even.

the fog

[pythianwoman]

[One of these days Zoey won’t recklessly fling herself into danger to keep others safe. Today was NOT that day. It’s worth it, though. They’d made it to a cabin, and after shoving any and all wads of fabric they could find into any holes that would let the fucking FOG in it’ll keep them safe enough.

She’s doubled over for a moment, coughs wracking her body. Her lungs feel like they’re on fire, like she’s breathed in countless shards of glass. They feel like they’re bleeding. And they might be, giving the metallic taste on her tongue. Which is a familiar sensation, thanks to the more unpleasant aspects of her gift of sight, but it’s not a great thing to experience when completely devoid of said gifs.

Swallowing the rest of the cough, the way it burns, the way she hurts, she straightens, gives her companion a lopsided little smirk.]

I’m fine. [She’s not, but it’s fine. She’s been here a while, she’s used to this shit. He’s new. And his hands are burned. They need to take care of that, first. There’s not much they can do for her lungs. Unfortunately.] We need to take a look at your hands, though. I’ve got clean bandages in my pack. And water.

[She's been here a while. She tends to be prepared.]

[homeostatic]

( He levels a flat look at her, obvious that he's not about to forget about that brittle, wracking cough.

It isn't like he doesn't need medical attention himself though, his gaze dropping to his hands. They're sure to blister, red and inflamed as they are. The last thing he needs to grapple with out here is an infection. )

Let's both of us sit down then. You don't need to be running around after beathin' in whatever that was.

[pythianwoman]

[She is the picture of innocence in response to that flat look. Less the picture of good health, after that cough, but if she can turn his attention other things, maybe the distraction will suffice. (She’s probably not that lucky but she can hope. And try.)]

I don’t plan on running anywhere. Honest. Just cleaning off your hands and getting them wrapped up. And that? Just more of the bullshit that comes with being here, I’m afraid. Sorry about that.

[And she is. This place likes to throw curveballs ALL THE FUCKING TIME. Green toxic fog is just a different flavour of the same.]

If you insist on sitting down, though, at last the couch doesn’t look to be in too bad a shape.

[homeostatic]

( innocence, meet suspicion. friendly-ish suspicion? just wait, he'll see to that cough in time.

he does turn to look at the couch, dust-covered but sturdy, and tests that it'll hold before he commits to settling his full weight on the cushion, hands out before him over the wood floor. )

's not your doing, ( mccoy points out, even as he knows that isn't the reason behind her apology. ) What else can I expect around here?

[pythianwoman]

[Once he’s seated Zoey sits down beside him and starts rummaging in her bag looking for a bottle of water. As she does, she looks up at him.] A lot, and most of it sounds certifiable. No electricity, except on the nights of the Aurora. Wildlife that looks to have been influenced by… something else. A little bigger, a little stronger, and a lot more determined. Sometimes there are other things. Like the fog. Some of us spent sometime haunted by our own doppelgangers. That sort of thing.

[Water bottle in hand, she’ll reach for his hands and if he lets her, she’ll start rinsing them off, touch gentle.]

And there’s something else. From what we’ve learned it’s called the Darkwalker. It’s a part of the folklore, here. It’s huge, and the only people who have seen it have died. And they died fucking terrified. But you can sense it. It’s… fear, all encompassing, the desperate drive to hide, to go indoors and close the curtains.

[homeostatic]

( He listens quietly, as he has with everyone who's told him about the town, individual threads and experiences weaving a larger tapestry. And it's not pretty, not for the amount of death, of fear and desperation linking them all together.

McCoy keeps himself from wincing at the shock of cold water on his burnt knuckles, easing as soothing relief follows fast on its heels. For a moment, there's just the soft patter of droplets striking the floorboards, then he ventures: )

You certainly paint the evocative picture, Miss.

( The scientific side of him, the doctor who's never met an ailment he didn't try to tackle head on, wants to make sense of it. Surely, surely folks didn't just die of their terror– exposure is more likely out here, caught up in the fever-thrill of hypothermia. )

This... Darkwalker. Is that how you know it's around, just the fear?

[pythianwoman]

[She takes her time, making sure to try and get rid of any lingering poison in his burns. Once she’s fairly sure, she pulls a sterilized cloth from her bag and starts drying them, carefully and gently. They need to be dry so she can apply some honey to keep them clean before she bandages them.]

I wish had no picture to evoke. This place… throws a lot at us. [She offers him a little, friendly smile.] Call me Zoey.

[She shakes her head.]

The night sky is always different, when it’s going to be out. There are no stars, no moon. The sky is just… an empty black-green. And you can hear it coming.

After. After everything returns to normal. The stars are back, the moon, like they’d never left. And then, later, we find the body. Or bodies.

[homeostatic]

( Thus far, he sees nothing he'd object to in her careful ministrations, rinsing his hands and dabbing lightly at them, a painless touch of dry cotton to red skin. Red enough, he assumes with experience, that blisters are in his near future. Thank goodness she's prepared. )

Leonard, ( he offers, trading her smile for one of his own. It disappears quicker than he'd like, as she explains further, and he swallows. What have you gotten yourself into this time?

Grasping for a topic that isn't pricking the hair on the back of his neck, McCoy nods to the cloth in her hands. )

Not to change the subject from horrifying woodland cryptids, ( but really, to do exactly that, ) You've quite the gentle touch. I think a few of my nurses could learn a thing or two from you.