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

A!

[heckofashot]

It's hard not to notice the way the man enters the Community Hall, or the inelegant way he slumps into a chair — he looks rough, and Maccready kind of feels for the guy; his own hands are in a similarly sorry state, bandaged at this point. He gets to his feet, already intending on reaching for some first aid supplies, before he's interrupted by a coughing fit.

It's a lucky thing he was used to this sort of thing with his own kid, granted, this guy is most definitely not a toddler. Still, he waits, patiently, and allows the man to finish his sentence before he gives a short nod. "Long as you don't mind that it might not be the thorough." Some humour lilts through his tone as he holds up his own hand, he's not in the best spot to be delivering first aid, but, you know. Sometimes people have to do what they can.

"Wait here," as if there's anywhere else to go.

[wolf_lover]

"At this point, I'll take what I can get," Connor wheezed out when Maccready offered him assistance. At least it appeared coming inside had been the right move. The air in here was far easier to breathe and the size of the building meant any of the fog that might get inside would be more easily dissipated.

He'd been so overcome with pain outside that he hadn't really gotten the chance to examine his injuries. But now that he had the chance, he looked over his hands more closely. The injuries looked more like....burns than anything else. Now that was just fucking weird and no mistaking it. Despite what had happened, Connor wasn't acting quite as injured as he should have been. It was the wolf in him. Couldn't show other animals any weakness lest they try to take advantage of you. Other predators would kill a wolf if it was too weak to defend itself or its territory.

[heckofashot]

For his part, Maccready has seen people with far worse injuries shrug them off like they were nothing — pain relief, among others things were common in the wastes, as was grit and determination to push through it. That Connor doesn't appear overly concerned barely registers to him as he disappears to get the supplies he needs.

He's not gone for long, at least, returning shortly enough and looking a little frazzled. Tucked under his arm is a box of some sort, the first aid kit no doubt, but he has a metal bowl of steaming water in his hands alongside a clean looking towel. He sets them both down on one of the tables. He doesn't think anyone will mind if he scoots it a little closer.

"How much of that stuff did you breathe in, d'you know?" Regardless of the answer, he thinks they'll probably need to deal with that, too. For now, though, taking care of open wounds seems like it should be higher on the priority list.

[wolf_lover]

"It was only a few minutes." Still, he worried about the kind of damage it could have been doing internally to his systems considering it wasn't so much a fog as some weird soupy form of acid. "Still, it feels a lot better being in here already." Connor was never one to remain grim or gloomy for long. He preferred to look on the bright side of life and all that.

Connor glanced at Maccready's hands. "I'm guessing you got caught in it too?" At least he wasn't the only one this had been done to. If he was going to bitch about his circumstances, at least it would be to someone who was in the same boat.

[heckofashot]

"Still, a few minutes is longer than ideal." With the ideal being like, no minutes at all, really. It means he's content to leave it for now while he takes care of Connor's hands first — or attempts to, anyway, who knows how well it will go. Maybe he ought to go find someone else…

With the table pulled closer, it should be easier for Connor to reach, and he gestures to the bowl with a nod of his head. "You able to bathe 'em?" He's helping, but he'd rather not start poking at another man's burns. As he speaks, he opens up the first aid kit and begins pulling out some of the supplies; some kind of antiseptic cream, bandages — are they ideal? He has no idea, he's used to Stimpaks.

[wolf_lover]

"I'll be alright. I've been through worse." That was the truth. Even in the short time he'd been with the Shadow Players, he'd experienced enough brutal attacks that had left a number on him to know he wasn't about to drop dead from injuries like this right off the bat. At least that was assuming the fog acid wasn't still inside his system and slowly eating away at his body but there was no way to tell that for certain, so Connor wasn't going to think about it until he had to.

He glanced at the bowl Maccready had brought gratefully. "Yeah, I'll be alright." He hissed lightly through his teeth as the warm water hit his hands after he slowly lowered them into the bowl but otherwise didn't show any reaction to having to bathe the raw injuries. "Thanks for helping me out."

[heckofashot]

Let's not think about that plausibility right now. If Connor starts coughing up his insides, then he'll have a serious issue, and it'll be one Maccready is ill-equipped for, unfortunately. He gives a short nod at the assertion that he's been through worse — most people have, he thinks, whether it was in their lives before Milton or since arriving. Everyone has some kind of story.

"Hey, it's no problem, just wish I could be more help."

What he can do, is squint at the small text on the cream, there are a bunch of ingredients he can't pronounce and certainly isn't about to try. He can see it should be applied to clean and dry skin. When it looks like Connor is finished up, he'll hold out the clean towel out for him to dry off his hands, at least. "Not sure how you're supposed to dry 'em without irritating them more, but…"

[wolf_lover]

Connor lightly pat his hands with the towel until they were dry, still wincing occasionally at the sensation. He wished the fabric was made out of a softer material, but then, he also wished he still had his powers and was on a nude beach in Maui. So really it didn't matter. He just had to suck it up and deal with his present situation.

"It could always be worse." Though he wondered afterwards if maybe that was the wrong thing to say. When someone said something like that, the present situation was just bound to get as bad as it could be.

[heckofashot]

He's in the midst of unscrewing the cap on the cream when Connor makes his remark, and Maccready fortunately, isn't really superstitious. Despite that, he still knows some things should be left unsaid, they tend to invite trouble — here, though, well, they're probably fine. If they were still out there in the fog, it might be another story.

"Could be, but isn't. We should keep it that way." With a small gesture for Connor to hold out his hand. He doesn't exactly expect him to slather the cream on his wounds himself. "I don't actually know if this will help, but it probably won't make it worse."

[wolf_lover]

"I don't know either. Guess I'll have to see how my hands are doing in a day or two." Connor let Maccready put some of the cream on. He couldn't really tell if it was having the desired effect or not. Maybe the supplies were too old. Or maybe the cream hadn't been designed to work with healing the kinds of wounds left by a magical acid fog in mind.

"What's your name?" He asked, finally getting around to social niceties only now that his injuries were getting treated.

[heckofashot]

As long as his hands don't fall off in the next couple of days, he'll consider it to be good enough. Better than leaving it untreated, at the very least. "There are a couple actual doctors here, if you can track them down, they should be able to help you out." He nods towards the noticeboard; hopes that there's some sort of information on there that'll be of use.

"Oh, uh, RJ Maccready," and just because he's practically already grasping the other man's hand, he gives it the tiniest of shakes. Though he's careful not to jostle either of their injuries, there's some faint amusement on his face.

[wolf_lover]

Connor was a little charmed when Maccready had enough manners to gently shake his hand as he helped treat his injuries. "RJ, huh?" Connor seemed to test out the name by repeating it. "I like that." And yes, he'd deliberately said that to sound a little flirtatious. Despite the hardships he'd been experiencing in town, Connor's natural desire to flirt with anyone around him who didn't immediately turn him down was still alive and well.

It had only been knowing that sleeping around might make things more difficult for either of his parents that had kept him in line so far. But being in pain right now made it a lot easier for him to revert to old (and bad) habits.

"My name's Connor. Connor Wolf," he said by way of his own introduction.

[heckofashot]

The tone is absolutely not lost on him, and unfortunately, it does fluster him. He immediately turns his attention to the bandages he'd set to one side instead.

"Y-yeah… It's what everyone called me as a kid, and I guess it stuck," at least the ones who were around his own age, anyway, but he sure as hell isn't going to tell this stranger that most of them would've called him Mayor Maccready. He almost grimaces thinking about it. Bad enough that someone here actually has living memory of that period. God, the differences between timelines in this place are weird.

The name grabs his attention, though, and he glances back at the man, taking in his features. They don't really look alike, so it's probably coincidence; a common name, maybe. "Palm up," he instructs, instead of sticking his nose into something.

[wolf_lover]

Alright, now that he was back in familiar territory, Connor was beginning to feel better already. Seeing Maccready get off-balance was really cute and Connor was determined to push a little bit more as the conversation went on. He tended to just keep doing that until someone flat out told him to stop or bluntly said they weren't interested in him. "Is it short for something else?"

He flipped his hands so that the palms were facing up. He thought he'd caught a look on RJ's face when he'd mentioned his name but it wasn't something he could interpret. Well, maybe he'd figure out why that was in a bit. Connor had unfortunately never been the most introspective of the cubs. He left that sort of thing to Ambrose and Therese, who both had a much easier time figuring out the emotions and thoughts of other people.

[heckofashot]

Slow and careful, he begins to wrap Connor's hand, across the heel of his hand and making sure to wrap it so it won't get loose, crossing it over the space between his thumb and index finger.

"Yeah, but nothing interesting." It's said with a quiet, if awkward, laugh. "Robert Joseph—" an eye roll, "No one ever actually called me that, though." He continues to wind the bandage over the injured skin, keeping his eyes fixed on what he's doing to ensure he doesn't mess it up somehow.

"I dunno if it's significant or anythin', so I don't really have an attachment to it. RJ was less of a mouthful, I guess, especially for the other kids where I grew up."

[wolf_lover]

When RJ finished wrapping his hand, he flexed it to test how tight it was. It had been done well. He'd still be able to have a good range of motion while he healed. "Yeah, RJ does sound better. Robert Joseph Maccready sounds like the name of, like, a famous 19th century Evangelical preacher or something. Too formal."

"At this point in time, I'm fully prepared to hear your entire life's story." His natural instincts to flirt were in full force right now. Connor settled back into his chair, his eyes bright and alert as he studied RJ more closely. He was rather good-looking in a scruffy, disheveled sort of way. "You can start with where you grew up."

[heckofashot]

He'll nod along in agreement with Connor's assessment, even if the specifics of Evangelicals aren't within his realm of knowledge; he knows enough about preachers that that alone has him wrinkling his nose. Not for him, thank you very much.

Once he's done with the bandages, he sets about cleaning up the supplies, making sure to not leave a mess in a communal space — he fumbles a few of the miscellaneous items when Connor continues, whether because of Connor or his own injured hand remains to be seen, though the nervous glance back at the other man probably won't help him out any.

"I'm really not that interestin', uh—" Which, is true, at least to him, but he also figures that it's one of those things he really ought to get out of the way; people will find out eventually, anyway. "I grew up with a bunch of other kids in a cave system."

Said completely deadpan, as he closes up the first aid kit.

[wolf_lover]

Connor checked his hands. It was going to take them a while to heal but RJ had done a good job in making sure that process would be sped up nicely. He'd done a much better job of cleaning and wrapping up Connor's hands than the wolf boy could have done himself.

Connor was used to hearing weird stories of how people grew up. He was a Fable after all. Plus the way his own childhood had gone would have seemed pretty damn weird to other people when they heard about how he'd grown up with his brothers and sisters. "What, with like only kids?" He looked surprised. "That's like--Lord of the Flies level right there."

[heckofashot]

"Yep," he nods, "it's really kind of dumb. We elected mayors, and once we turned sixteen, we got kicked out. Honestly, the idea it's been like that for two centuries is the thing that gets me." Now, as an adult with his own kid, he looks back on Little Lamplight with something akin to horror and disbelief. They had issues with supplies, slavers, raiders, you name it, and they were just kids. It absolutely should not have been successful — if it can be called that — and especially not as time went on and lawlessness became the norm.

"We, uh, we didn't eat each other, though." Not that they did in Lord of the Flies, either, but Maccready's never read it, so— "Anyway, what about you, huh? Can't expect me to divulge all my secrets without somethin' in return." His tones a little lighter, borders on playful even.

[wolf_lover]

"Honestly, the weirdest part of hearing that is that it's been going on for two centuries. Like I'd expect some colony running like that to break down after two weeks, so the fact it's still going sounds a bit crazy!" Then he paused and wondered if he'd just put his foot in his mouth. "Uh, no offense meant to you personally."

He thought for a moment to figure out how best to describe growing up as a shapeshifting flying part-wolf, part-human without having to reveal everything right away. At least there was some parts of his childhood he knew that just about anyone could relate to no matter how they'd grown up. "Well, I grew up with six brothers and sisters. Septuplets, not all born at different times. We were homeschooled for the most part because of, uh, certain issues we had."

[heckofashot]

"None taken, it is insane." Like, he recognises that it sounds far-fetched… a colony of kids surviving for two hundred years, it's absurd. He's pretty sure it's never run smoothly, it's entirely plausible it did break down at some point, maybe got picked up again at a later date. Even for him, it's hard to imagine it having survived so long.

Septuplets doesn't draw a reaction — at least, not until Connor states exactly what it means — seven children all born together. That's… well. He feels immediately sorry for Connor's mom, for one thing. It's not the thing he'll focus on though, "I don't think I have siblings, but I guess growing up with so many kids was kind of similar. I guess we were homeschooled, too, in a way." He looks thoughtful for a second, "Are you and your siblings close?"

[wolf_lover]

Connor was glad he hadn't grown up in such a community. He doubted he would have survived to adulthood if that was the case. If he was being perfectly honest, he knew he wasn't one of the wolf pups who had received the most braincells in the pack.

"Yeah. We're all still real close even if we're scattered across different worlds now." The cubs were taking the opportunity as young adults to now really stretch their legs and come into their own, though they still often got together to catch up on what the other ones were doing.