but a strange light in the sky was shining right into my eyes

[singmod]

JANUARY 2024 EVENT

PROMPT ONE — THE AURORA: NASCENCE: Following the strange dream at new year, a three-day Aurora takes place. During which, Interlopers discover a possible ally in the mysterious woman heard in the static and heard in the dream — potentially earning new abilities.

PROMPT TWO — ADUST: The Interlopers find out what happened to the owners of long-destroyed Milton House in the form of hauntings.

PROMPT THREE — THE VISITOR: Interlopers find themselves with an unwelcome visitor — a shadow doppelganger here to make everything absolutely worse.

THE AURORA: NASCENCE

WHEN: January 13th - 15th.
WHERE: Everywhere.
CONTENT WARNINGS: potentially disturbing dreams; dreams of being burned alive; some minor supernatural horror; some minor ‘ghost’ horror/hauntings; death of npcs in various ways including suicide, murder or exposure to elements.


In the middle of the month, it happens. A herald. The noise starts: faint at first, but then growing louder. An ethereal, high-pitched chorus of sounds difficult to place. There’s a kind of electrical buzzing with it all, a low, endless hum punctuated with cracks and pops. The sky is alive with sound, and with it comes the swirling streaking of colour against the inky black of night: The Aurora has come.

Much of what happened previously happens again: Streetlights, illuminating the town’s roads; lights in stores and homes will come alive, buzzing and flickering at times. Previously abandoned cars will turn on, their headlights blaring. Electronics that had previously seemed broken flick on — and whilst there are no broadcasts available on televisions, and the radio waves only drone on in static, both only occasionally blaring standard emergency broadcasts. Any computers and phones will turn on, but will have no internet or reception. Instead, Interlopers may find texts and emails — many of them unsent. The everyday lives of their users stored within, now readable.

There are still some instances of the ‘ghosts’ from the previous Auroras, but they are now only faint outlines, and far fewer in number. However, whilst the Aurora would usually only last until the next morning on sporadic nights over the month — this time it will last for a full three days. The world is plunged into darkness, a seemingly endless night with only the Aurora to light the skies.

On the second night of lights and noise, a voice calls out to you: static-like, and distant — as if someone speaks over a radio. A woman’s voice. It is the same one you’ve been hearing for a few weeks now, but finally it is far stronger than the scant whispers of name and the word ‘help’. She is far clearer now.

“You.” she says. She may whisper your name, too. “I see you.” You’re unable to speak back, the communication is only one way. She sounds upset, but there’s something more… a kind of wonder, perhaps.

”It’s not just a regular aurora borealis, but then you probably worked that out already, haven’t you? It’s so much more than that. Everything is… changing.”

”I don’t know how you can go back. But— but I can help. Maybe. Maybe I can make this place easier, somehow. I need help, but I’m stuck—” There’s frustration in her voice for a moment. ”It took from you. Took you away. It doesn’t always have to take. We can take, too. Sleep. I will help you take back. You will survive this. You will not go into the Dark. This is not the end.”

You have no idea what that means, for the most part. But you might just end up taking the chance and doing as the woman asked, even if it’s difficult with the noise and light with the Aurora. Sleep, and a dream may come to you.

FREE RUNNER: The colours of the Aurora dance around you in your dreamscape. You dream you are a magnificent stag, galloping through the snowy woods with ease. You seem to go on and on, never tiring, never slowing. You feel like the wind, or perhaps the very wind itself carries you. Not once do you stumble or fall, even when the snow is thick and deep, or the ground is shaky and uneven beneath you. You feel free.

When you awaken, you feel the most refreshed you’ve ever felt since you first came here. For the final day of the Aurora, you are bursting with energy and even when the lights in the sky fade — that revitalised feeling within you remains. There’s something within you that understands: you are the Free Runner. The ground will yield beneath you, your energy will not desert you, the wind will carry you.

LIGHT BRINGER: The colours of the Aurora dance around you in your dreamscape. You dream of sitting by a lonely campfire in the mouth of a cave at night, warming your hands. As you sit, a strange feeling comes over you, a desire to reach out to the flames. And so you do, reaching with both hands into the fire — gripping at the white-hot embers. It burns you, and for a moment there is blinding hot pain as the fire suddenly explodes around you, consuming you whole. But the pain soon stops. The fire doesn’t burn you. No, you have become the blaze — your body warmed. You burn bright enough that the darkness around you turns into day.

When you awaken the next morning, you feel warmed and comfortable. As if even the coldest of winters couldn’t reach your bones. The warmth remains even when the Aurora ends, and you are left with the innate understanding:you are the Light Bringer. The power of flame is at your very fingertips. You master the light, life, warmth.

AURORA CALL: The colours of the Aurora dance around you in your dreamscape. You dream you are standing in the very sky itself, at the Aurora’s height. Colour and sound twirls around you, within you — and you feel it curl into your body. Your head fills with noise, a chorus of voices calling out, snippets of conversation echoing within you. A woman’s voice calls to you, it is the same voice that spoke to you before you slept: “Don’t you understand it now? We are all connected. The Aurora connects us.”

And you do, you do understand it.

When you awaken, you feel connected to the world around you. To the very people who live amongst you. You feel less lonely, a kind of kinship with others. You have heard the Aurora’s Call and you have answered it, unlocked a connection with your fellow Interlopers. You will be heard.

NOTHING: The colours of the Aurora dance around you in your dreamscape, but only for a moment. The edges of your vision begin the blur with black, slowly closing in until everything goes dark and you fall into a deep, dreamless sleep. You awaken, and although you feel rested, as if the dreamless darkness has helped you feel a little more ready to take on the day — nothing else about you has changed.

ADUST

WHEN: From mid-month to month end.
WHERE: Milton House.
CONTENT WARNINGS: fire; house fire; death of a child/children; hauntings; ghosts; mental manipulation; illusions of burning/being burned; potential injuries via falling/unstable building collapsing.

There is a reason why it is advised to avoid Milton House other than the simple fact that it’s a miracle the house is still standing. Once one of the largest buildings in the town of Milton, it is now a former shell of what was once a fine and grand house. It has lain in ruin for many years, dilapidated and host to a great deal of fire damage.

While he is in town, Methuselah will not speak of the place, but he often looks sad when it has been brought up in conversation. “A great tragedy.” he will say before falling into a pensive silence. “A blackened mark on the town’s memory.” He does not wish to say much more of what happened: sometimes there are things that are just too painful. He will continue to advise the ruin is left alone, out of respect, and the fact that the place is a danger.

Of course, advice will not stop anyone from attempting to get into the ruins and exploring the house, even if it is in fact highly dangerous.

The sounds of voices and whispers may be enough to pique anyone’s interest. You're sure you heard something, maybe you should go to check it out?

It is true in the fact that the house itself is incredibly dangerous structurally: floors and stairs may give way and you’ll find your foot (and half of you) falling right through the floorboards. Damp and rot that have long since set in, and it will be dangerous to breathe in. But you’ll find that the house itself is pretty ordinary: this was once a family home. Just about the entirety of the house and its contents aren't salvageable, but you’ll be able to find out a little about who once lived here.

There are faded, half-destroyed photos that show a family of five: a father, mother, and three young children all under the age of ten. The father with warm, beaming smiles, the mother has kind eyes, the two oldest boys with toothy grins much like their father, the younger girl looks shy, wanting to hide against her mother. They look happy. Just a typical family. In a world where so many strange things are happening, it feels so strange to look upon these family photos and around this home to realise that they simply lost their home in a house fire.

But as you hold a family picture, or some half-destroyed trinket: a toy, a shoe, a book, a vase, you’ll find the item will suddenly catch alight, bursting into flames in your very hands. The flames do not burn you, and as you discard the item, it will fall to the floor as if nothing had happened.

Then, it comes to you. Here and there. Different sensations that stop and start suddenly: the house groans and creaks around you; the smell of smoke enters your nose; the sound of fire cracking and popping with a roar fills your ears; the sensation of heat against your skin; the clawing and suffocating feeling in your lungs that makes you cough and choke; the sounds of terrified shrieks of children echoing above you. Feelings flood you: fear, panic. When you next turn around, the entire house is aflame around you, and you can’t tell if this is real or if you’re reliving some terrifying memory.

You need to leave, get out of here. For some, it will be what comes naturally. You’ll have to fight through the flames and escape the house before it burns down completely around you. You’ll have to fight your way out, find an exit not already consumed by flames — through a window, perhaps. Crashing out of the house and into the snow, you’ll look back and see Milton House just as you entered it: nothing more than a half-burned ruin.

But for others, there will be another pull. You are drawn upstairs, to the screams of children. You need to get to them, to help them, save them. You will battle through the flames, heading towards the ruins of what was a child’s bedroom, or towards the bathroom. Inside either, you will find a figure cowering, engulfed wholly in flames: one in the bathtub or one in the closet. You recognise them as the two sons from the family pictures.

Mom. They will call you. Or Dad. They weep, terrified of the flames. I’m scared, I’m scared. I want the fire to go away. Help me. Stay here.

The tragedy of Milton House is before you. More than just a fire. What is more tragic than the death of a child? What silences voices? Breaks spirits? Leaves one helpless to act in the wake of such a passing?

There is something to be done here. You are not so powerless. Calm the child. Offer gentle assurances. They will get out. They are safe. You are there for them. You will stay. Embracing them will set you alight. Too hot. Too bright. It will hurt, but you won’t burn. But don’t let go; holding them will eventually calm them down enough for the flames to grow dim, to slowly ease their spirits to rest.

Soon enough, the flames will go out and the child will disappear, leaving you alone in a decaying, dilapidated room.

In the churchyard of Milton, there is a family grave by the name of Barker. Three lie within it: Thomas it reads, and his beloved sons, Patrick and Christopher.

THE VISITOR

WHEN: The month of January.
WHERE: Everywhere.
CONTENT WARNINGS: erything absolutely worse.
THE VISITOR — CONTENT WARNINGS: supernatural beings; dream-related horror/disturbing dreams; doppelgangers; themes of depression; themes of self-harm; themes of isolation; potential themes of suicide.


It seems the dream of the New Year and the Aurora dreams are not the only odd sleep-related instances occurring this month. You first notice that something is off when a strange dream pulls you from sleep. The dream may feel like any particular dream you have, whether it be a usual nightmare or strange concoction your brain has conjured up for you this night. Maybe it’s a dream you’ve had before, maybe it’s a new dream entirely. But no matter the dream, there is one thing that is odd about it. In tiny moments within the dream, you notice that there is something different, something that feels out of place. Something is there that shouldn’t be.

A figure, tall and silent, entirely made of shadow stands lurking in the background. It looks human, but there is not much more that you can really describe further. It is a sad, unsettling presence.

When you awaken, eyes bleary from sleep, and you look about the room, to the bottom of your bed, for a half-moment you see that figure standing there silently. That unsettling sadness permeates the room, and after a few seconds of blinking and sitting up — the figure disappears. Perhaps it was just some trick of the mind, some half-awake illusion.

But the next time you sleep, it appears again. The same figure, the same emotions surrounding it. And when you awaken, it stands at the bottom of your bed once more. Only this time, it lingers, and you find yourself staring down the figure before it disappears once more.

Over the next several days, the presence continues to linger more and more. It stands silently in the corner of the room of your home; it hovers by the window, staring out into the snow; it stands in the middle of the road as you go about your business. More and more, it is there. Always standing, always watching — silent and sad.

No one else seems to notice it, only you. And over time, the shape of it seems to change — the vague, undefined shape of it slowly shifts into something you recognise. The same hair, the same height, the same way it holds itself: it is exactly like you. A perfect doppelganger, a second shadow. And with it, it exudes an oppressive sadness, a particular kind of loneliness. It is suffocating, bleeding into you.

It makes you withdraw from the world around you, from the people around you. Perhaps you stop spending time with others, retreating into solitude. You hide from others, keep to yourself. You find yourself not sleeping at all or perhaps sleeping too much. Perhaps what little you already eat becomes nothing. The shadowy doppelganger draws ever closer to you, close enough to touch you - ever hovering at your shoulder. Its presence bores down on you, making you feel small and more and more alone even with its ‘company’. No one else can seem to see it but you, mentioning it to others will earn odd looks, or even concern. It seems you and your double are alone together.

Hopefully, those around you will notice the change in you. How you stopped reaching out, how you’ve stopped taking care of yourself. Hopefully they will see something isn’t right and reach out. You are doomed to the doppelganger's company otherwise.

However, those around you can push the shadowy double away, and can break its influence and hold over you. Genuine care and concern for you will have it shrinking back. Perhaps it is a kind word, perhaps it is the gentle but insisting coaxing to eat. Perhaps it is an attentive ear to listen to your thoughts, to how the presence has made you feel. Maybe it is even the simplest of touches, an embrace or the holding of a hand, the grip of a shoulder. Continued connection with you will slowly have the visitor’s power diminish.

And hopefully it is done before it is too late, or it may be all too easy to fade into the Long Dark.

FAQs

THE AURORA: NASCENCE

1. Aurora Feats are now unlocked! Please see the following page for more information. Aurora Feats are completely optional.

2. Interlopers will only receive ONE Aurora Event. The only time this is available is this month. After January, players will have to wait for the next Feat round for another chance at an Aurora Feat.

3. This Aurora will last a full three days. It will be a period of only night.

4. For more information on the ghostly loops seen during the Aurora, see this previous event, under 'The Aurora: Aftershocks' prompt.

5. For new players who would like a little extra context regarding the woman can look at December's Tales From The Northern Territories, under the 'New Happenings in December' section.

ADUST

1. Characters will not be physically burned in the fire, but only feel as if they have been. The effects of this illusion will last a short time after they're out the house before they will fade.

2. The only real injuries characters can sustain will be from fall damage, or if the floor gives way and their feet go through, etc. whilst in the house.

3. The children cannot leave the house. They will be too scared to leave. In addition, they are tethered to the house, given that this is where they died. Simply being calmed/comforted is the best way to help them and they will disappear after that.

THE VISITOR

1. An Interloper's Visitor can't be seen by anyone but the Interloper themselves.

2. The Visitor can be spoken to, but it will not speak back. It cannot be interacted with and is intangible.

PLOTTING POST

Comments

[castitas]

"... Everything okay?" Kate's brow furrows ever so slightly as she steps inside, closing the door behind her. Maybe it's nothing, maybe everything's fine. People have been off lately, but then there was that whole... dream monster at the start of the year, so like... it's understandable. She will however, move on to why she's here — she's pretty excited to show him, a little bit of an excitable buzz about her.

"I, uh— met one of the new folks," she's already fiddling with the buckets of her satchel, there's a little bit of shyness there. Yes, she's... a little smitten with a particular Constable. "He realised what I'd been doing with the rosehips and he brought me some spruce needles?"

She produces two large jars, filled with a thick amber-coloured liquid and sets them down.

"So: spruce needle syrup." she explains brightly. "While I might not always be able to get rosehips, I don't think we're going to run out of trees. But it has vitamin C in it too and it's good as a cough syrup and decongestant."

[bestsir]

"I'm all right," he says, and for now it's true. Her obvious excitement makes Goodsir smile, and whatever it is that she's a little shy about—well, that blows past him, really, as such things often do. He takes one of the jars to look at and nods, pleased.

"How wonderfully resourceful. You're turning into an apothecary."

He's ... proud of her? As if she were a child of his. How curious.

[castitas]

Kate's smile is a small one in the face of praise, but no less brighter for it as she ducks her head a little. An apothecary? Gosh. Even if she doesn't do it for the praise, it's still nice.

"It kinda feels good to stay busy." then, quietly to herself in her thoughts: 'don't have to think about it, can't think about it you're busy, not a waste if you're busy.' She doesn't realise she's not the only one who can hear it and she inhales, continuing:

"And... it means I can help people in some way." she says with a tiny shrug. "I don't know how to do a lot of things, but I can learn to do all this sort of thing."

[bestsir]

"You're not a waste—" he blurts out, before realising that she didn't actually say it out loud. He goes red with embarrassment. "I beg your pardon. I—I don't know what I—I thought I heard—"

Confusion, worry, a creeping sense of dread—and then, unbidden, possibly because it's a thing he wants to keep buried as deeply as he can, a memory of darkness, the liquid sound of bottles being poured into a basin, bitterness on his tongue.

[castitas]

The outburst stuns her, enough shrink back slightly in stunned silence. Kate looks mortified, with a horror-filled kind of confusion — her own face a little red. 'Did he hear that? Oh, gosh, did he—' She doesn't know what to say, gaze lowering.

"No, I didn't mean— I just—" her head shakes, but she stops suddenly. She even looks about, as if looking to see where the sound of liquid comes from. It's so clear. And— she frowns, unsure — a little spooked.

"What is that?"

cw: self-harm, suicide

[bestsir]

"What in God's name is happening?" he says helplessly, and even as he's thinking she must never know, the memory is there, clear as day:

the cooling sensation of drying liquid on the skin, the poisons he wiped onto his body, the bottle at his lips and the taste of laudanum mandragora calomel on his tongue, his hands tying the cravat neatly at his throat, the shard of glass in his hand

"Oh God!" He stumbles backward, clutching at his head, as if that will keep the thoughts contained. sorry I'm sorry you should never see I'm sorry

mamianaq

mamianaq

[castitas]

Goodsir stumbles back, and she freezes — a deer caught in the headlights of panic and horror. It's a realization that smacks her hard, but she fumbles to grip at in that very horror. Her fingers twitch, as if she can feel the bite of the sharp edges of the shattered glass against her skin: 'he didn't, he didn't. No, he didn't.'

He did. She inhales sharply, shuddering, unsteady on her feet for a moment, as if the world's tilted too far for her— "Stop—!"

Stop what? What can she stop when it's already happened?

mamianaq.

She doesn't know the word, a language she doesn't understand. But Kate feels the weight of it — he did, he did. He's sorry. He did, he's sorry. And she doesn't realise there's the sting of tears in her eyes.

"You didn't." Denial. "Tell me you didn't—! You— you're supposed to go home, you're supposed to publish your paper on lead poisoning, you're supposed to—"

He's supposed to do many things that aren't poison and a shard of broken glass.

[bestsir]

He slumps down, sitting on the floor, his hands over his face.

"I was dying," he says, his voice muffled. "The scurvy, you see."

Another memory: looking at Crozier, the pain throughout his entire body, eyes joints teeth, but he still smiles a little, weakly

Is God here, Captain? Any God? It doesn't matter. This place is beautiful to me, even now. To see it with eyes as a child's. There is wonder here, Captain.

He looks up at last, and his eyes are wet. "I never wanted anyone to know that. Any of that. Least of all you, Kate."

cw: references to gaslighting

[castitas]

"But... but someone could be coming. Rescue. Maybe... maybe it wouldn't be too late." It's feebly offered, said out of desperation more than anything else. Would there be, though? Would there really be any hope of someone coming to rescue them, when they were all so far from home?

She stands in a daze, tears streaming down her cheeks. There is wonder here. And despite it all, despite being so sick, dying — there is wonder here.

It's not fair. It's childish, she knows. But it's not fair.

Slowly, quietly, she moves towards him — crouching down in front of him and dropping onto her knees. "I wish you—" she bites back emotion, head dipping briefly. "I wish you had more of a choice than that."

'There's never a choice.' it's a small voice in the back of mind, reminding her: she's back in the grounds of Blackwell, autumn rain pelting down, Jefferson's voice ringing in her ears: 'Knock off this martyr crap, stop acting so brittle. Maybe this is your way of getting attention.' The words sting, she thought he'd help. Why wouldn't he help? Her gaze lifting towards the roof of the dormitories. No, there's never more of a choice.

"Sorry. I'm—" she shudders, shaking her head. "Sorry."

[bestsir]

Her own misery cuts through his, and he reaches out to take her hand—he hears that voice, the chill rain ...

People have been cruel to her, too. Which makes him angry; how dare they?

"Kate," he says quietly. "I had ... I had very few choices. As good as none. But you—you are so young; there is so much before you."

cw: attempted suicide/suicide ideation; mentions of being drugged

[castitas]

She takes his hand, but her head shakes at words.

"I don't have any choices, either. My life's over."

It's hard to find the words, and Kate's careful with them. There's already those ripples of anger.

"Someone... hurt me." she settles on finally. "They drugged me and recorded it and the whole world can watch it. And I barely remember what happened, but it doesn't matter what I do because no one believes me.

"I'd already decided, back home. I just... wanted to sleep forever because it's the only thing I think of that's better than the nightmare I already live in. I even still wanted to here, and I would have done it if Lieutenant Little hadn't stopped me."

She can't shake it. Even if she's never tried again since then, there's days where she can't even get up out of bed.

[bestsir]

Thank God for Little, for once, he thinks, but manages to tamp down the last bit before it gets out.

It hurts to hear Kate talk like that, though. She's so young. Such a good, gentle soul, and it makes him incandescently angry to think that anyone would hurt her, ruin her good name, make her feel the way she feels right now.

"The world is much, much bigger than those people with their small, mean minds," he says. "I—I know it may not help much, to hear this from someone who only half-understands the world in which you live. But you are better than those people who try to drag you down out of spite. You still have choices. You still have a future."

[castitas]

Bless you, she thinks softly. And she smiles, even if the edges of it are filled with sadness. Her head dips, more tears dribbling down her cheeks. It's not fair.

"I... I don't know what'll happen when I go home." Will she remember any of this? Will it all just be some strange dream? Will she go back to that very moment, heading up to the roof? "But I don't think anything's going to change. I... I think it's always going to end on that rooftop, no matter what."

And what a waste. And she's sorry— sniffling a little. She moves, shuffling to sit next to him on the floor, tentatively curling towards him — seeking... she doesn't know. To be near him, comfort and comforting — her cheek resting against his shoulder.

"... I wish I'd known you back home, instead." she says quietly. "Maybe that way we both could have had more choices."

[bestsir]

He wraps an arm around her shoulders, as if he was a young boy again offering comfort to his even younger brothers.

Her words stir his memories again: I wish you could come to England and see for yourself. It's not like we are here. People there are good. They are good.

knowing as he says it that it's a lie, that civilisation is a mask and every man here is truly what he is in extremity; Silna places her hand on his chest and he struggles for words

Mamianaq. Mamianaq.

the faintest, saddest of smiles on her lips as she turns away and he closes his eyes, unable to bear watching her walk away into the fog

[castitas]

She curls in close, thankful. Grateful. Falls still and quiet, apart from the soft sniffles here and there — listening... no, she doesn't know. Experiencing? None of this is her own, and it's a strange thing.

Mamianaq. That word again. It feels so heavy.

Are they good? She doesn't know. She wants to believe people are good, like Max. Max is good, her father is good, her sisters are good. Good and kind and believe in her — she knows people can be good. But people can be unkind, mean, terrible. There's so many people back home— they made it so hard to see the good, if it were really there.

She's pretty, Kate thinks. And sad. Why is she so sad?

"Who is she?"

[bestsir]

"The men called her Lady Silence," he says, and he feels an odd lightness in his heart to be able to speak of her. "She was the daughter of an Inuk shaman whom one of our marines shot on accident—I tried to save his life, but could not." Sadness. Anger. Horror at the sight of him being thrust down the fire-hole like so much refuse.

His brain skips over much—the Tuunbaq, the way she came to them at the Carnivale before all the death.

"Some of the men—Mr. Hickey included—feared her, and against the captain's orders took her prisoner. But whilst she was with us—at first as a prisoner, and then when we sheltered her voluntarily later—I got it into my head to befriend her, I suppose. I thought she could use some kindness, and ... I was interested, you see. In her language and her culture. She didn't trust me at first, but I couldn't blame her for that—why should she? But in time I won that trust. I ... I considered her a friend. I think she thought the same. In the end, though, the men were too afraid of her and her people and ... she had to leave."

There's no mistaking the warmth and care he felt for her, the grief and anger when she left. He can already feel that he's learning to compartmentalise some of these thoughts, though. The worst things, for once, do not escape.

[castitas]

There's plenty she remembers; he'd told her about the shaman and the bear spirit, how his daughter and tried to bind herself to the spirit in his stead. All of it... still too fantastical, even now. They called her Lady Silence. It... doesn't sit right, she doesn't like it, and there's little prickles of disapproval from her own mind.

But she's quiet as she listens — the weight of emotions that aren't her own is a tricky thing to hold along with his words. And she's... sorry for him, sad. He lost a friend, and it's an awful little ache in her.

"Is she okay? I mean... with everything going on." her head shakes a little. It's... all just... a lot. "If she had to leave, do you know if she's okay now?"

There's a worry. If someone took her prisoner, like Mr Hickey, would they leave her alone, now?

[bestsir]

"Captain Crozier says that she saved his life," he says. "She's with her people once again, and I'm glad for it. She did not deserve to suffer for our actions."

Of course, he doesn't know the whole of it. Crozier never told him. But for now, in his ignorance, he can console himself with the notion that she's at peace with her people, alive.

[castitas]

"I'm really glad, too." From everything she's learned, it's... just a whole mess. A horrible, awful mess. But if she's okay? It does mean something. "That someone managed to come out of it okay."

There's a little pause as she considers.

"Maybe she might end up here, one day." she offers. "Like, I know this place isn't... great. But maybe whatever it is that's making us all cross paths— well— you never know, right?"

Maybe it can be better, this time.

[bestsir]

"I would be very glad if she did," he admits. "She ..."

A tangled mix of warm emotions with a touch of confusion. Goodsir never did manage to make head or tail of what he felt about her, though he could be certain of respect and friendship, at least.

"She would know very well how to survive here. Though the woodlands would be new to her, I think—her land is not wholly free from vegetation, but there are no forests like this in King William Land. Her knowledge and intelligence would be invaluable."

i feel like this might be good to wrap here?

[castitas]

"Yeah, she'd totally be like the expert of living in a place like this."

Kate's quiet for a moment, sitting with that flurry of emotion. Even with the complexity, she does understand a kind of friendship there. And she's gently sad for him, for him to be without a friend. She does hope he might see her again, that she might end up in this place.

"Well—" she says gently after a long pause. "Maybe one day. And you'll totally have to introduce me."

Things are definitely more better with friendly faces.