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

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

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

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

[One of the things that Chloe enjoys the most is watching a master at work, and that's clearly happening here. She would never have noticed the detail here, especially at night, without it being pointed out.]

I see. I guess an animal wouldn't know to hide its tracks.

You might find yourself surprised.

[ Lestat laughs airily, unfolding to his feet. ]

Not all prey is so guileless - but that's not our concern tonight.

[ He motions for her to continue with him. The blind waits up ahead. It's an old installation, some tumbledown wreck of the sort that strikes him as unusually common in these woods. It has a roof, and enough of a floor to keep him elevated from the frozen earth, and so it's fit enough for the task at hand. He opens the back door and steps aside to hold it for her, inviting her into the dark, close interior of the cramped space. ]

After you.

[Oh. This is—

Just for a split second, all but unnoticeable to people who aren't attuned to the reactions of this particular type of prey animal, Chloe hesitates. If she goes in here with this guy at her back, she's not getting out until he lets her go.

It's a combination of gnawing hunger and playing at being the kind of person who doesn't worry about that shit that makes her go in anyway.]

Ladies first, huh?

As a gentleman? Always, except for in war and in peril.

[ The hesitance speaks to her survival instincts as much as her surrender to necessity does. He suddenly believes that if he did have any designs on her slender throat, he'd find himself fending off her knife.

He pretends not to have noticed as he steps in after her, drawing the door of the blind closed behind him.

There's no furniture to be seen. The blind is so small Lestat has to stoop inside of it, a problem he corrects by sinking into a kneeling position on the wooden floor. He inches forward to the slit cut open in the front of the blind, unslinging his rifle to set it across his lap. This close, his knees touch the wall; this close, there's a gap sufficient for Chloe to make a dash for the door behind his back if she wishes.

It normally would make no difference, but it occurs to Lestat his courtesy might actually allow her to make a true escape if she desired, if he gave her cause to flee with her preternatural speed. It's a surprisingly entertaining thought. ]

Please, make yourself at ease - to the extent you can, of course. My apologies for the rustic decor. [ Or lack thereof. ] Look out at the trees, and tell me what you see.

Edited 2024-01-25 00:24 (UTC)

[Chloe, also ducking, surveys the space - notices the path to the exit, is that deliberate? Some weird concession to having a woman in here? - before kneeling at his side. Her knife is within easy reach, but the sheath is on the thigh opposite him, which is all she can do to prevent him from going for it in a struggle.

She lets out a sigh, trying to relax her body, then looks through the slit as well.]

Uh, I see snow? Trees. It's pretty dark.

Good.

[ Once more, his approval is genuine. She isn't stretching to impress him, but answering the question truthfully. ]

Do you see how the trees thin past the pine with the broken branches on the left side? That was a clearing. It's being overtaken by the trees, but not quite yet. There's brush, young trees. Animals will go there to feed, or take shelter.

Now. Tell me - what were you intending to do with your knife tonight? What prey did you picture on its end? How did you plan to find it, and to end its life?

[The truth is that she’s so hungry that she’d barely thought about it at all beyond imagining carving into meat in such lurid detail that she can almost taste the blood in her mouth.]

I've never killed an animal before but they've got vulnerable spots, right? The neck, the stomach. Same as people. I don't know what I pictured - cutting a deer’s throat?

[ Lestat admires her blood-lust. It's a lovely ambition. ]

An animal your size, in the throes of desperation?

[ The cluck of his tongue is fond, slightly indulgent. ]

Even a rabbit will fight for its life if cornered. There is a reason large game is hunted with bow or gun. What good does it do you if you find yourself injured and helpless next to your fresh butchery?

I can't - [How do you explain this? This thing that's overtaken her.] It’s not enough.

[ Lestat evaluates her, thoughtfulness and shadow darkening his eyes. His hands rest idly on his rifle, as nonthreatening in their rest as they can be on a tool of such destruction. ]

...your new capacities exert demands on you.

[ A neutral observation. ]

Certain extremities of hunger, I take it. [ His voice is soft, understanding. ] Necessities.

[Chloe closes her eyes. She hates to reveal a weakness this way, but she doesn't know if she can survive this on her own.]

Yes.

I see.

[ Such a meaningless pleasantry. He says it while he looks at her as though he means it completely.

He takes a hand from his gun and touches the back of hers, lightly, the barest brush of gloved fingers granted and removed in the passing of a breath. ]

Perhaps we should attend to that need first. [ There's a smile in his voice, but not upon his face. ] Return to the lesson another night. If you would find that amenable.

[It's mortifying, but Chloe flinches at the gentle brush against the back of her hand. Something about this situation makes her feel nineteen again, walking into the lion’s den of organized crime with nothing but her wits and a pretty face.

All the same, she’d survived then and she’d like to survive now. She's so hungry.]

What do you mean?

I mean, [ and now the smile manifests, appearing out of nowhere like Alice's own Wonderland cat ] that I'd like to propose an exchange.

Tonight, I feed you. Tomorrow, and the nights after, you apprentice with me in the hunt. I instruct you in my considerable knowledge, and you earn your lessons with the sweat of your brow, the fleetness of your feet, and the pleasure of your company.

[ He laughs, rueful and amused all at once, and gestures lightly at himself. ]

I like having a hunting partner, from time to time. It breaks up the monotony. You're charming, have yet to disappoint me, and you need what I can teach you. What do you say?

[This is a gift horse that Chloe can't afford to look in the mouth. Besides, it seems like she's getting the better end of the deal, here. Whatever the catch is, it’s a bridge she’ll cross (or burn) when she comes to it.]

Sure, why not?

Wonderful.

[ His smile shows teeth, but their tips are politely tucked behind his lips. Not yet. Perhaps not even tonight, depending on how biddable she is when nourished. He can be patient, despite everything he is accused of. He only needs a reason to be.

He lifts his hands and claps them soundlessly in a 'well, that's that' sort of gesture, then slings his rifle back over his shoulders before he makes to rise. He offers her a hand up as he stays half-crouched in the little blind. ]

Your first test will be if you can find your way back to this blind tomorrow night - so pay close attention on our walk back to town. It might take me some time to come looking for you if you get lost.

[ He's teasing. He's almost certainly teasing. ]

[Finding her way around and traversing harsh terrain are some of Chloe’s only outdoor-related abilities, so she's excited to maybe show them off a little bit. Being on time isn't her greatest skill though so in the end it might balance out.

She takes his hand to rise - her own strong but rough from ropes and rock faces - and keeps her head ducked as well. She's trying to be patient but the prospect of eating soon has her a bit tense.]

You’re on. What do I get if I win?

Do you enjoy wine? Don't tell [ he taps the side of his nose, releasing her hand when she's on her feet ] but I happen to have found a bottle or two tucked away...

[ Dreadful, pedestrian swill, by the look of it, but there is what they say about beggars. It will serve to get a mortal drunk, and that's all most tend to care about.

Lestat leads the way out of the blind. Unlike before, he doesn't slow his pace to scout for signs of passing animals to point out to Chloe, but takes off directly into the trees with utmost confidence in his pathfinding skills. He couldn't get lost in this patch of the forest if he tried, at this point.

The poor woman he's taken under his wing is famished. He'd be a terrible mentor if he wasted any time in seeing her fed. ]

You're speaking my language. [Chloe grins, ignoring the fact that she's still kind of recovering from whatever had happened the other night after she’d chugged all of Wren’s awful pine crap. It has to be better than the bathtub gin she’d found in her root cellar.

She keeps up easily, energized by the fact that the risk she’d taken being alone with this guy is apparently paying off, but unfortunately in the excitement she's burning her power inadvertently and making everything worse.]

[ Lestat can't help but notice, a stab of envy pricking at his enthusiasm. He bargains with it by choosing to focus on the benefits: if she's this reckless with her power, she'll need him all the more, in early days. By the time she can fend for herself, he has no doubt he'll have won her allegiance more permanently.

And there's something nostalgic in her easy, thoughtless gamboling. The joys of coming newly into oneself, unfettered by past limitations. ]

Light steps. [ He says, indulgently. ] It'd be a waste to burn out such a bright candle as you all of an evening.

Sure thing, dad. [It's a little petulant but she does slow down a little, letting her boots sink into the snow.] It just feels so good, you know?

[ Lestat cuts a look Chloe's way at dad, glittering with amusement - but there's something else beneath it, a glancing touch of unreadable depth more genuine than any other expression he's shown since the deer-gnawed undergrowth. ]

I know.

[ He looks forward again, adjusting the strap of his rifle. He doesn't think that his words give away too much; he is unaware of the treachery of his eyes. ]

But you'll enjoy yourself more when you're well-fed.

[ Hunger will hopefully be the gravy for the meal he has planned. He's no particular expert of the culinary arts - but even a dull supper is made delicious by desire.

They're approaching the edge of the woods, and from there, not far to Lestat's humble domicile. His very first guest in his new abode. What a successful night it's turned out to be. ]

I'd be interested in seeing you demonstrate your new talent to the utmost afterwards. Who knows? Perhaps you will become a terror of the local rabbit population.

[There's something in that look that Chloe’s hunger doesn't allow her the presence of mind to really analyze, but she might think about this later when she's more curious about her “benefactor”.]

Perhaps I will. We’ll see, I guess.

[ Lestat chuckles, crossing over into the brief open stretch between the woods and his home. He picks up speed on clearer ground, lengthening his stride to a pace he now knows she can keep up with. ]

Think of all the fetching mittens and stoles you could make.

And there. That humble little dwelling is mine.

[ He points out the blue bungalow with its oddity of a porch as they approach it, although he doesn't circle around the front to show that particular architectural feature off. He leads her up the back stairs instead, unlocking the door before he swings it wide open.

The cozy kitchen interior is warm and lit with a faint reddish glow from the low-burning wood stove's thick and smoky glass window. Whoever lived here last hung up little sayings and portraits on the walls, along with a bright row of gleaming kitchen pots and pans. ]

May I take your coat?

[ He offers, genteelly. ]

['Bless this house', 'cherish each day', Chloe snickers, shrugging out of her jacket.]

Sure thing, grandma. Love what you've done with the place.

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cw weird animal-killing fantasies…

cw animal hunting, death

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