seven devils all around you, seven devils in your house

[singmod]

JUNE 2024 EVENT

PART ONE — A SIGN OF THINGS TO COME: The Darkwalker claims another victim, and that is only the beginning of troubles for the Interlopers as they face a month of endless night and green gloom.

PART TWO — POLAR SUN: As June continues, Interlopers are faced with food insecurity as wildlife flees; tensions grow as they face hunger and the Darkwalker's continued influence. On the day of the Summer Solstice, the tension finally breaks and violent chaos descends upon Interlopers.

PART THREE — REPRIEVE: The end is in sight, and an ally comes to the Interloper’s aid.

A SIGN OF THINGS TO COME

WHEN: June 1st, then onwards.
WHERE: Milton area; Lakeside area (Carter Hydrodam).
CONTENT WARNINGS: death of playable character; supernatural death; mention of dead body; themes of death; supernatural beings; themes of terror; themes of peril.

The evening is quiet and still. May draws to a close and while the sun does not completely set, it dips low enough for the sky to grow a little darkdim with twilight. The midnight sun is almost upon the Northern Territories, the air is warmer than it has ever felt — even if it remains chilly. If this is summer, it is but a gentle brush of reprieve against the unyielding winter. The Interlopers wind down for the night, many turn to their beds to sleep, others sit awake and ponder their existence in this world. They think of home, of loved ones, of their predicament here in this place. The Forest Talkers, the strange beasts and monsters they’ve encountered.

The moon wanes in the skies, nestled amongst the stars. For those still awake to notice, they can see it: slowly, one by one, the stars begin to go out. Then the moon's light is swallowed whole, and a blanket of green gloom descends upon the Northern Territories.

The sky is dark and green and terrible. Many of those will recognise it, what this means and what will come. Others will not understand it, not know what it is that awaits them all.

They will soon find out: the Darkwalker comes.

Under a green sky, a cold fear washes over you — squeezing the breath from your lungs. Interlopers will find themselves overcome with that fear, and everything in their bodies and minds tells them to run. To flee. And so you run, heading for cover. Curtains will be drawn, some may hide under beds, within closets or wardrobes. Some desperately attempt to conceal themselves, make themselves small, unseen. Some Interlopers, in that fear, may rush to friends or loved ones to hide with them, others may simply cower alone — crawling and whimpering away from the night. The fear is irrational, unable to be overcome — even by the bravest or most stoic of Interlopers.

For those within Milton, it is further away but is by no means less potent: Interlopers will find themselves frozen with the constant loom of the Darkwalker’s arrival — even if it does not come to Milton. Those within Lakeside, however, will feel the true force of this presence: more like a knife edge — painfully gripping your heart as it draws close.

The Darkwalker howls: indescribable, unnatural, demonic. Low moans and groans. It comes from the east, the faint booms of footsteps in the distance growing ever nearer. It is coming, once more. It's coming for one of you. And still, you are powerless, unable to do anything. And it is an agony, awaiting its arrival. You cry, you whimper, you cower. Curling up for some shred of comfort, and finding none.

For those in Lakeside, through the fear, they may be able to note the path: a straight line from the east towards Carter Hydrodam. It seems to go on forever, building into a crescendo. Your heart beats so hard you fear it may burst from your chest, as if you might die of fright.

There is an almighty sound; the Darkwalker devours and even with the distance you can hear it. The sound of gnashing teeth, and… laughter. There is no scream, no bright light in the sky — Enola is silent this time. There is only that laughter, echoing off into the night.

The skies do not return to normal. The green gloom hangs in the air. It is done, but it is not yet over. While the overwhelming fear dissolves away, but a kind of… dread remains on the air — almost palpable.


The Darkwalker has devoured another. Braver souls who go out to investigate into Lakeside will find just who has been devoured once they reach the Hydrodam — although it may be a day or two before they will find the body in the medical bay.

At least it is cold enough that the rot does not fully set in — but death will certainly be here.

And this is but the beginning of the Interloper’s troubles.

POLAR SUN

WHEN: The month of June, up to Midsummer’s Eve + Summer Solstice.
WHERE: Milton area; Lakeside area.
CONTENT WARNINGS: themes of survival; food scarcity/food insecurity; supernatural weather; altered mental states; mental manipulation; themes of violence; potential character injury; potential character death; potential NPC death.

In the coming weeks and days, and weeks, the green gloom lingers. From the Darkwalker’s attack, there is no sun. No day, no night. No stars or moon or sun. No Auroras. Just the gloom and biting cold. Life becomes increasingly hard on Interlopers: higher expenditure on fuel — fires and lanterns are imperative to keep the darkness and the cold at bay.

With the green gloom in the air, the wildlife becomes more scarce — as if it has been frightened away into the deeper parts of the wilds. It will be harder to bring in fresh meat in both Milton and Lakeside, and Interlopers will find that they will have to rely on whatever stores they have — and perhaps even rationing for a while.

And it’s not the only thing frightened. Even with the debilitating fear that comes with the Darkwalker’s attack gone, there is still a kind of fear that lingers on the air that slowly eats away at the Interloper’s resolve over time.

Interlopers will find themselves anxious, on edge. Some will be prone to anger in their fear, others prone to fits of melancholy: tearfulness and sorrow. Between the cold, the lack of fresh game and the fear on the air — it’s no wonder spirits are low. Bickering and minor upsets between Interlopers are likely.

They call it the midnight sun, the polar day. It's opposite is the polar night. This is neither and both. On the day of midsummer's eve, that fear on the air is even more palpable. The air feels a little stifling at times, as if the pressure is all off — often quite oppressive, a strange kind of tension. There is something brewing, a low burning thing that begins from the moment Interlopers wake — heavy and sharp in their chest.

’So, Interloper. What will you do now?’ A voice sneers in your ear. The very same voice that has haunted Interlopers since the very beginning. The Darkwalker finally speaks after all these weeks of gloom since its most recent attack. ’When all is gone, when even the sun does not rise? What will you do then?’

A nervousness sits within you as you remember the Darkwalker’s words. What will you do if the sun does not rise? If the darkness is all that is left? If the food runs out? Your wonderings will continue to gnaw away within you. The darkness is hollowing.

’Will you lean on others, like you have always tried to do?’ the voice continues. ’What bonds you hold with them, the ones with those around you. But how strong are they, truly? Can you trust them? Will it matter when your belly is empty and your heart is low? Perhaps it is time to see.

’Never forget, Interloper. I am the Rot. And I will rot within you.’

As the day progresses into the Solstice, that tension lingers in the air, and the wonderings within you continue to wear at you. You find yourself becoming more and more agitated as time goes on. Those feelings that have been brewing for some time now have started to grow close to boiling. You may snap at others, grow restless, become enraged at the tiniest of things — the upsets wildly out of proportion for the smallest slights or issues.

You find your thoughts wandering, too. Perhaps it is to someone you know in this place, or perhaps it is to someone previously unknown to you. Maybe you have an issue with this person, or perhaps the voice’s influence extends further — not only adding to your agitations but creating them, too. A slight, a grudge, a bias.

You feel a bitter gnawing within you. The nightmarish green gloom above you persists and everything bubbles up from within. From the dark, the anger within you become too much. The tension finally snaps.

For some, it might come out as a vicious argument where you air your grievances, or finally let slip the things you’ve been holding close to your chest. A verbal beat down, incredibly hurtful in nature. For others, things may be drawn to getting physical. A literal beat down where your fists grow bruised and bloody, or perhaps even worse. Whatever it is, you want to do damage to someone else — there is darkness here, and so many things come out in the dark, don’t they?

Like a ripple, all around you: all hell breaks loose. Chaos erupts, and the air is filled with violence.

Let’s hope you might stop, or someone else stops you, before someone gets killed.

REPRIEVE

WHEN: Circa three days after the Summer Solstice.
WHERE: Milton.
CONTENT WARNINGS: blood.

All things must come to an end, even the most violent of deadly storms. In the midst of the seemingly endless violence of the night, you find yourself outside. Maybe you're fleeing from another Interloper, maybe you're desperately trying to reach someone you care for, maybe you're simply trying to find somewhere new to hide. Interlopers are hunting one another, blood lies on the snow, bodies too — some breathing, some not.

Perhaps it is a trick of the light. Perhaps it's the Darkwalker’s influence still warping your already frayed mind. Or it's the blood in your eyes, your battered and bruised body struggling to get through it all.

In the gloom, you see it. See her.

A woman, dressed in furs, stones and shells glimmering on her chest like armour, stands in the snow before you. Thin and pale, eyes sunken. Her chest heaves with each breath as she looks around with wide eyes. Her hands are bare and bloody. It drips slowly from her fingers. Is it her blood? Or someone else's? You cannot tell, but you cannot mistake how thick it coats her skin.

Her head turns to look at you. You are stunned, but not frightened. Even through the gloom, after a moment or two, her eyes widen in recognition: she knows you.

Slowly and silent, other than her noisy breathing, she draws close to you. Maybe in turn you draw close to her, closing the distance between you. Up close, her eyes are blue, and sad. You cannot mistake the sorrow in them. She is tired, weary. Her hair is dark, worn loose and long. For some, you feel as if you've seen her before, but you can't quite place her face.

Softly, she says your name.

For some, there may be no recognition. This woman is a stranger, who knows your name somehow. She has been silent the past couple of months, after all.

For others, hearing her speak brings a sudden, jarring realisation: this is Enola.

She’s here. Enola. All this time, she’s whispered to you in dreams, in static, in the very air itself.

She raises one hand, dark and dripping in the green light. Lightly, her fingers brush against your chest. You don’t feel the pressure of them, don’t feel the odd heat of blood — only the weight of her stare as she holds your gaze. It’s a long moment of peace in amongst the chaos.

You feel her exhaustion, a tiredness that sinks into your very bones. Apologies, too. You have never known anything like it. But there’s something else too, something that takes a moment or two to put your finger on. Defiance. A renewal. Something shifts in the air, a growing tension, different from the kind that’s been held on the air throughout the month. It’s the coming of a storm, the rolling clouds, the growing rumble of thunder before the first lightning strike.

Enola nods, her expression grave. She pulls away and turns from you — her head lifting towards the skies as she walks. Her arms raise, bloodied hands twisting and tensing before her. They curl, almost into fists, and she makes a gesture: the slow tearing of something huge and invisible before her — a shriek spilling from her lips. A battle-cry, a last stand, a wail of agony. It echoes.

The sky cracks and splits open before you, dazzling light and colours blinding your vision into pure white. The world tilts too hard below your feet, and you don’t remember passing out.

When you awaken, Enola is gone. The skies are clear and blue, the sun is high in the sky. As you pick yourself up from the snow, in the harsh light of the polar day, blood has never looked so red. The horrors of the night laid bare. Interlopers are dead, but the Darkwalker’s influence is gone. For now.

In the wake of Midsummer, all Interlopers can do is try reconcile. Bury the dead, rebuild, lick wounds. But that feeling in the air still remains — that different, new kind of tension that has come with Enola’s appearance. The first of the lightning bolts has struck, but more are coming.

FAQs

A SIGN OF THINGS TO COME

1. Alexander Hilbert has been devoured by the Darkwalker. His remains can be found in the Hydrodam. The following note has been left by Kates concerning his death: ‘Sveta gets possession of his research notes + blood samples + creepy lab journal because it's all in Russian, lmao.’

2. Information on the Darkwalker’s attack can be found here.

3. Usually, after the Darkwalker attacks, the sky would return to normal. This won’t happen. Instead, the usual atmospheric changes that occur during Darkwalker attacks will remain in place as June continues..


POLAR SUN

1. For an idea how the setting appears for June, it's like what you see in the game during the Escape The Darkwalker Challenge. Inside, there'll be a degree of green shades to rooms etc via what comes through windows but with it being lit up via fires and light sources, the gloom will be chased back.


2. Characters are free to use this event to kill NPC Interlopers. Methuselah and Young Bill are off the table, as are two marked NPC Interlopers. Please let Mods know if you intend on doing this for record keeping!

3. These acts of violence can be physical or verbal altercations, players are encouraged to work with the prompt however they'd like! However, anything potentially world-altering (ie. building destruction) must be first discussed with mods.

4. Interlopers under the Darkwalker's influence can be stopped in a number of ways. Showing genuine care and compassion in the face of violence is one way. Knocking an Interloper out is another way. Sometimes killing an Interloper may be needed, or simply restraining them and keeping them locked up somewhere so they can't hurt anyone else until the night is over would also work.

5. Talismans made by Heartman back in March with a Ward Sigil against the Darkwalker will come into effect during this prompt. It's been an ongoing process, with new Interlopers being offered them from their arrival. Players are free to choose what kind of talisman they received, or if they chose to get one at all. Their effectiveness is dependent on the type of blood used on the talisman.

— Animal Blood: Interlopers carrying talismans using blood from animals found in the world, such as deer, rabbits or wolves will find themselves more susceptible to the Darkwalker’s influence and disposition towards violence. They will be much harder to break out of the hold over them, and become almost frenzied state.
— Monster Blood: Interlopers carrying talismans using blood from any creatures or monsters that Interlopers have encountered in their time in the Northern Territories, such as the Serpent from December’s TDM will find there are no negative nor positive effects. The talisman is essentially useless. and Interlopers will fall under the Darkwalker's influence.
— Interloper Blood: Interlopers carrying talismans using blood for Interlopers will be offered protection/resistance from the Darkwalker’s influence and disposition towards violence. They may be slightly affected but will have their wits about them more compared to others. If the blood came from an Interloper with an Aurora Feat — this protection/resistance will be largely increased, an the Interloper may even feel braver, less affected by the fear in the atmosphere.
— No Talisman: Similar to the Monster Blood Talisman, Interlopers will be affected typically by the Darkwalker's influence in due course.

There are no additional affects with an Interloper using their own blood, just if they have an Aurora Feat or not.

6. Animals owned by Interlopers will be more frightened and will want to hide away in the build up — they will be disturbed by the world. Mostly lying down and whining/restlessness. They may display some signs of aggression on occasion, but not to the same degree of humans.

7. Forest Talkers are hidden away and will not be able to be reached during the Solstice.

REPRIEVE

1. Enola can only be met alone, but she will appear to all Interlopers in Milton.

2. Enola will be nowhere to be found afterwards, there are no tracks to be followed. She has simply vanished.

PLOTTING POST

Comments

Cornelius Hickey | The Terror

[friendsfordinner]

open to anybody who Hickey has even the slightest hint of positive CR with (if you've had a nice conversation, you're in. if you're Louis, Rorschach, or Jopson, buzz off). cw: cannibalism, gaslighting

Hickey's been surprisingly close to his normal self during all this mess. Granted, he's a twitchy, slightly feral asshole ready to fight or poke buttons that shouldn't be poked on a good day. A bad day just makes him all of that and more. He's spent his time out and about more often, as there are fewer people who you want to strangle, fewer goddamn idiots making things worse out there in the woods. And there's a better chance of finding food. Because throughout all of this, the main emotion driving Hickey's actions is hunger.

He is so fucking hungry.

Might as well take advantage of that.

There are a few times when Hickey's back in civilization, milling about Milton. When he spots someone he knows, someone he's had at least one conversation with, he'll wave them over.

"It's been a shit week or so, hasn't it."

closed to Crozier, cw: body horror, gore

[friendsfordinner]

There's a body in the woods.

It's not easy to find if you're not the sort of antisocial mountain man who occasionally treks out to the woods to check on his cairns. The body's been hidden away and buried—not buried well, of course. But buried enough that most would glance over. But then again, most people aren't antisocial mountain men.

When Crozier unearths the corpse, he'll find that it's wearing a shirt, though the man's trousers are missing. The flesh of the man's leg has been cut into and butchered. Strips, chunks of flesh are missing, in a way that uncomfortably reminds Crozier of Harry Goodsir's body, laid out on the table. The cause of death is easy enough. Nearly a dozen stab wounds on the chest, in a way that uncomfortably reminds Crozier of John Irving's body, lying on the shale.

Sure is a ~mystery~ who killed this guy, huh Frank.

[desperate_times_right]

“Tell me about it!” Chloe sighs, hungry and exhausted. “I don't even know why I bother checking my snares anymore.”

Every run leaves her hungrier than before, and if anyone else knows what that's like, it's Hickey.

“How’ve you been holding up?”

kieren walker | in the flesh

[burying]

OPEN PROMPT + CLOSED STARTERS
✞✞✞
plotting comment
heolstor / _heolstor on discord for plotting!

✞ AN OPEN MOUTH SCREAMS AND MAKES NO SOUND

[burying]

cw: identity issues; npc death; murder; gore; cannibalism/zombie related cannibalism
note: this prompt is more a reaction than anything, Kieren will not be able to be reasoned with / interacted with at this time. you're free to have your character see Kieren's actions and react from a distance, considering this is very public.

[ He's so... hungry.

As the month drags on, it gets harder and harder to find food — the brains of animals he needs to sustain himself. Kieren starves, far quicker than the others. He can't eat the food that others can. Even in his tormented state, he tries: and it ends up exactly like the other time he'd tried to consume regular food — wasted, and the guilt and despair sets in.

Something else sets in, too. Agitation, frustration. Kieren's prone to snapping, the mild-mannered boy is long gone as the Solstice approaches. He keeps to himself, for the most part — trying not to extend his energy more than he needs to. It bubbles within him, underneath the surface; something hot and bright and violent and he's so hungry.

When the tension finally snaps, so does Kieren.

He doesn't recall her name, doesn't recall where he picked up the wood in his hands. He sees a kind of red he doesn't remember ever seeing — not even his fury and grief in the face of Bill Macy seems to come close to it. It's not fair. He can't be like her, he can't eat like her, can't be normal like her. He'll always be this, some half-thing. Some half-person, never fully alive nor fully dead. Some disgusting thing who did terrible things he can never take back, loathing himself until he finally returns to the earth once more.

(He deserves it, he thinks. And the anger flashes all too harder. He hopes this time they cremate him.)

There's a sharp crack, and she's down. Blood splatters against the snow and she's not moving. It's not enough. He brings the wood back down again, and again. It splinters in his hands and there's so much blood. He doesn't hear himself screaming, raging and snarling like some wild animal.

He's hungry, and when he inhales he can taste that blood on the air. He's so hungry.

Kieren drops to his knees before he realises, shaking hands reaching forwards — tearing at hair and skin and unpeeling the broken mess of skull before him. He gouges, scooping chunks of brain into his fingers and cramming it into his mouth. Some part of him gags, briefly, but he's hungry and he forces it down, taking his fill.

(Simone, he'll remember. Her name was Simone. She came in February. He brought her firewood once. She had a kind smile.) ]

Ruby Rose | RWBY

[guidemyway]

Open Prompts + Closed Starters

If we've talked about doing a thread feel to wild card a starter here, or leave a note and I'll get a starter going.

A Sign Of Things To Come.

[guidemyway]

[Ruby lived out in the Lakeside area. So she was unfortunately one of the first people to come across Hilbert at the Hydrodam. She unfortunately isn't exactly one of the more medically savvy people around so there isn't much she can do to help in terms of an autopsy. She can however help give him a burial when the time comes.

And then since she is on of the quicker people around she starts to make her way over to Milton to give them the news about the Darkwalkers latest victim. It's still at best a couple days after the fact that she arrives in Milton- They really need to get a better way to send messages out figured out.

When she arrives she's exhausted from the trip. But she puts up a notice on the bulletin board. Then- Anyone that might need to know will probably get a knock at their door for her to inform them herself.]

Levi | Fear & Hunger 2: Termina

[solitarysoul]

open & closed starters
plotting comment | connectivetrick | Levi's general CWs

Polar Sun | OTA

[solitarysoul]

I First few days of month
It hadn't been more than a day or two since the Darkwalker had come and the sky never returned to normal, but even with the new feeling in the air time still went on. He hadn't been over to Lakeside to check how things were, but if the Forest Talkers weren't currently a threat it was a good bet they would become one again someday. Or something else would. Hopefully something physical defenses could help against, so Levi was back out trying to build up the barricades. Visibility was much worse, so he has a small fire burning near one in town. He's not really sure if people are still interested in helping, but it gave him something to do. Something to focus on instead of the uneasy feelings and the sky and whatever worse things came next.

Perhaps you want to help? Or ask him why he's bothering. Or tell him that he's doing something wrong. Whatever works, really.


II Mid to late month
He didn't want to be doing this. He didn't want to be placing himself between someone and the food they wanted. But Levi had been through lean times before, and the food he'd hidden away was disappearing too quickly to last long enough. He couldn't blame whoever it was, but that didn't mean he'd let them keep taking as much as they wanted. If it had been their own stores it'd be something else, but the food he'd hidden away was to be shared as equally as possible.

And so Levi found himself standing guard at the entrance to the community hall's basement, since that's where (most of) his food stash was. He has his rifle, as always, but he's looking much more serious than usually. Not the shy, meek boy watching out as much as the solider doing his duty.


III Shortly before 6/21 - free to witness, only one interaction please CW: NPC murder
It had been a tough month. Some days (most, lately) when he went out hunting Levi returned empty handed. He didn't feel much better today with just a squirrel in hand. But while it wasn't much it was still something and he meant to butcher it and take the meat to a smoker. He was hungry, sure, but they needed to eat in the future as well as the present. But not everyone was as far sighted or as used to rationing as Levi was, and when he neared town and ran into another Interloper things didn't end so well.

The confrontation started off simple, a request for Levi to share. After all he'd done so before, why wouldn't he now? But he refused, even shouting when the other kept insisting. That triggered Max to make a grab for the rabbit so, with tempers already high, Levi responded by punching the other Interloper in the face.

He'd meant to fight just enough that he could get free and run back to town, but at some point in the scuffle Max's hands ended up around Levi's throat. That was a direct threat to his life, so his training kicked in. The fight didn't last long after that, but with everything so on edge Levi landed a few blows after it was clear Max wasn't breathing anymore. His vision was still red enough that when he rose he finished the fight the way he would have in Prehevil and brought his boot down hard on Max's skull.

He stands there for a few moments, catching his breath and looking down at the body. It will take a few moments for his brain to catch up to what he's just done.

kate marsh | life is strange

[castitas]

CLOSED STARTERS
☮☮☮
plotting comment
heoltsor / _heolstor on discord for plotting!

☮ HAVEN'T I GIVEN ENOUGH? — CHLOE FRAZER

[castitas]

[ Chaos erupts, but she still manages to keep her wits about her. It's only to a certain degree: whatever weird stuff that's going on, driving people to— to go absolutely crazy it's... it's not her. It's not happening to her. The Darkwalker whispers to her, but she manages to keep herself steady — doesn't fall into those horrible thoughts.

It doesn't help against the fear she feels, and she sticks to the edges of the rooms, cowed as she hides in the Community Hall, trying to keep an eye on the violence in the green gloom outside. She notices the basement doors are open, and her throat feels tight. The flare gun is heavy against her hip, already loaded with a shell, and she holds onto it with a white-knuckled grip.

If she needs help, she can use. Someone will come. Someone will help her.

She slips out and then down into the basement, her knees buckling a little with fear as she carefully makes her way down the steps. Maybe it's someone trying to hide down here, maybe it'll be okay. And she can call for help if she needs to. Someone will come, someone will help her. She holds the flare gun back, hiding it behind her a little. ]

W-who's there—?

Chloe Frazer | Uncharted

[desperate_times_right]

[Starters will be posted below. I will match either prose or brackets. Plotting post here. Feel free to wildcard under this comment, or contact me via plurk at nonhoration or discord at nonhoration with ideas.]

Polar Sun - For Ruby (and Lalo eventually)

[desperate_times_right]

Chloe is so hungry. Her snares have been coming up empty for more than a week now, and every run to check them just leaves her more drained. The reserves she’d saved from her little venture with Lestat have run out now as well, and after the mess at the hall she feels like she has little choice but to return to her old ways.

Maybe not exactly her old ways. She's not breaking into Lalo’s house alone, after all. There's another hungry person with her, one that reminds Chloe too much of herself to leave behind.

“See that depression in the snow? There's a snare trap there. He's not very creative.”

Jessica Hamby | True Blood

[lilredvamp]

[ Starters will be posted below. Content warnings are blood, mentions of cannibalism, vampirism and all the bloody bits that come with it, violence, being burned alive, starvation. PM this journal or reach out on plurk at devimelete ]

A SIGN OF THINGS TO COME

[lilredvamp]

The moment the sky turned green Jessica never hesitated. When she was gathering water from the lake and saw a green gloom settling in, she dropped the bucket. Allowing water to splash at her feet she turned and ran back to her home. After almost a month of work, she managed to make to make a trap door in a closet’s floor and made it her underground sleeping quarters. It’s not as nice as Bill made it back at his house, but considering she made it on her own without any help it was better than living in the bathroom and be worried sick about the windows.

It was there did she curled up into a ball and prayed to anyone listening as the sounds grew louder and louder. Her face was a bloody mess of her tears.

When the horrible sounds ended she stayed in her little hole for several hours. She finally stumbled out of her cabin, shaking in fear. She looked up in the sky and saw no night sky but no sun either. Only the green glow.

Jessica walked around Lakeside, dreading to find a body but seeing nothing. She was going to visit the Maintenance Yard when she sees someone heading in her direction. She walked over to them in a hurry. “Hey! What happened? Who died?”

Polar Sun (cw throughout: animal death)

[ployboy]

>>Community Center cw discussion of hunting, hunger, animal butchering, rationing

[Clearly, he's been missed by his very adoring fans. Tim's demanding the attention of the people gathered at the Center, up on the stage again and making himself heard. (He has a persistent cough, dry and tired, but don't mind that.)

He quickly lets it be known he's not holding a town meeting, not entertaining a big debate either.

The fact is, he has food. You tune in a little after he explains this is the very reason for the Rabbit Ranch.]

-and of course those who can hunt should first make that effort. Game might be scarce but foraging is also an option we can't just sleep on. Everyone, and I mean everyone, ([hickey]) is welcome to the farmed... meat.

[But.]

But in an effort... to stay transparent, and fair. We will need to approach this with logic and we'll have to run checks. Not just on inventory but on who is recieving what portions.

This running list will eliminate confusion. It will be a public list. This will eliminate... human error. Or suspicion of.

The rabbits will be available to everyone. Anyone who asks. But for the sake of everyone else... failure to name yourself as a recipient might forfeit your eligibility for seconds.

So let's hope it doesn't come down to that.

[Paradise Farms, the Rabbit Ranch-- it's fucking booby trapped so don't you dare sneak off to hold them buns hostage. Questions, comments, concerns, (and Hickey) are welcome while Tim sticks around the town hall.]


>>This Could be Paradise cw: fire, property damage, animal death, animal life in peril

The days (the night) drag on and on. The sky stays tinged green. Everything in Tim's vision is plagued in green. He gets hungry fairly quickly- he's a city boy, was born with a silver spoon in his mouth. He goes back to old habits, finds a dry stick on the ground and puts it in his mouth and pretends it's chewing gum or whatever. It tastes like nothing, and he's hungry.

He fetches bunnies for people, and now he knows how to process them. He keeps the skins when he can. He never takes meat when it's not meant for him.

But of course there's no such thing as order when people are panicked and starving, and the number of rabbits doesn't match up with the math. The list is next to useless, if it was ever maintained at all.

And the thing is, the infuriating thing is, it could have worked out. It could have worked well. Tim plans and plans some more, but it's nonsense that this responsibility is his alone. Even after screaming his growing pains out loud, this mission to keep people fed has been his alone.

One day, you want for a rabbit from the colony of Paradise Farms.

This day, the barn is on fire.

The animals inside are panicked. But the flames have started to eat at the hay in the nursery first-- if you act quickly, if you call for help, you can save the animals from being consumed by the flames.

((have fun, feel free to make the fire-fighting a Party! by all means, go wild. and where's tim during all of this? he may pop in for a thread, but WILDCARD him if your character would seek him out.))

this could be paradise | OTA

[thefifthchild]

[Leaving was a mistake. It feels so long ago. Time moves so much faster yet slower in this world than in the one they came from - when a month felt like years, and the challenges never stopped coming.

The Darkwalker came and it broke him - the starvation, the exhaustion, the loneliness, the paranoia. They're lambs for the slaughter, all of them. Even the strongest among them. Even him.

It all feels so small. Forest Talkers, electricity, supplies. He'd resorted to eating his emergency wolf meat - then melting down any of his leather supplies into something edible. So many of these people don't deserve to live. The way they've turned on eachother, erupted into violence. Why should he have to change himself if they all stay the same selfish creatures? Why should he have to eat the animals he cares for, when he could eat this ecologically worthless species that takes and takes and takes?

It's thoughts like that that move him away from Lakeside.

He didn't realize he was coming back to the barn - to Batcow, to his... brother, even.

And it's all on fire. Batcow is in there. He trusted Tim to take care of her. To take care of everything. Like how Father trusted me to take care of Alfred.

He wants to apologize. To yell at him. To punch him. To make him get some fucking sleep. All he can do is scream.]

TIIIIM!!

[Why wouldn't Tim be out here rescuing the animals? The only answer he can think of is that he's inside too.

Someone did this. Find them... find them and fucking kill them.]

Benton Fraser | Due South

[maintiensledroit]

open & closed starters
_____

[ plotting | repeatandfade ]

A Sign of Things to Come — open

[maintiensledroit]

[ Hunger is something he's used to. The scarcity of the far North is something all who are born and live and die there come to know as intimately as a friend. It's not the hunger he fears: it's what comes alongside it. The green gloom that casts the world into sickly half-light. The lack of sunlight. Even here, arcing toward Midsummer, they should feel a little reprieve from the bitter cold. Plants should be growing, animals should be appearing with their young.

But it's only green, and quiet, and empty.

He hunts. Diefenbaker accompanies him sometimes, but not always; the wolf prefers to spend his time with Scout and their large family, and Fraser can't blame him. But the game is scarce even in Lakeside, and he finds he has to go further and further afield to find anything at all, let alone the kind of game they need. He's searching for deer; for moose, or bear. Something he can bring back to the starving people of Milton and Lakeside to fill their bellies and calm their tempers.

There's no sun to set. Sleep comes badly, if it comes at all. Even he begins to grow tired-looking, a little haggard around the edges, a shadow of stubble darkening his jaw. There's no sun to rise. He breaks camp anyway. He hunts. His guitar is tucked away half a day's trip back in Milton. There'd be no time to play it, anyway. He hunts.

Now and then, he finds something. More often, he doesn't. But he goes anyway, with whoever offers to come. ]

Here. If you're hungry, I have a little pemmican.

Randvi | Assassin's Creed: Valhalla

[meadqueen]

[Starters will be posted below. I will match either prose or brackets. Plotting post here. Feel free to wildcard under this comment, or contact me via plurk at nonhoration or discord at nonhoration with ideas.]

A Sign of Things to Come (open to anyone in the community hall)

[meadqueen]

It's like the first Darkwalker attack all over again, until it isn't. Randvi has been staying at the community hall again since her accident - she's still having trouble with things like moving around in narrow spaces or preparing food for herself - and just as with La'an she's at the window when the moon disappears. The stars go out. It's happening again.

The terror seizes her heart just as fully, knocking her into furniture as she scrambles for cover, and all she knows is the sound of cruel laughter and teeth gnashing. Someone's terrible death is known to all of them, but they can't do anything. The typical scream doesn't come, but that isn't a surprise anymore. Even the gods of this place have abandoned them, it seems.

That impression only grows as they begin to recover, to try and figure out what happened. Randvi looks outside with dread, recalling La'an dead in the street, but this is where the experiences differ.

"It's still gone. The moon."

Svetlana Nazarova | Night Watch

[balancedlight]

❄️❄️Open Prompts❄️❄️
Plotting comment
waningsunflower // waningsunflower @ Discord
Feel free to wildcard if you want!

|| Hiding From the Morning Skies - OTA ||

[balancedlight]

The green sky fills Svetlana with a sense of doom and dread that she cannot escape. It’s like the curse all over again, the vortex, unseen but deadly, swimming above her head, making her world feel smaller and darker, like everything around her is closing in. The green makes everything look sick, ill, like it’s crying out for help, and there is nothing that Svetlana can do for it.

When the body is discovered, Svetlana spends most of her time mourning. It’s upsetting, in a way, to have actually met this person and spoken with him. And now - gone. She says a prayer over him, whispering about Light and Darkness, but when it’s revealed that his notes and journals can only be deciphered by a Russian doctor, she takes it upon herself to gather them up.

She can be found in Lakeside after that, usually upstairs in the Camp Office beside the fire, pouring over the journals. She’s eager to see anything that he’s come up with, though she’s a little worried about some of the wording. He certainly is - was - a pragmatic doctor, she decides. She sits at the railing above, her legs draped through the rails of the banister, letting her feet hang down as she sings softly to herself when she thinks she’s alone.

Levi // Attack On Titan

[wingbound]

--1. POLAR SUN

a) cw: themes of survival; food scarcity/food insecurity; supernatural weather.

[ Levi had taken up hunting by maybe his third week in Milton; it's not that he has any particular fondness for it, but he knows how to shoot and how to rig a snare, and it's a way to contribute to the community without necessarily spending too much time in it. He does enjoy people's company in moderation, but large gatherings always make him uneasy. It's much preferable, then, to hike out in the wilds -- perhaps with one companion just to make it a bit more safe. ]

[ Exactly what he's doing right now. ]

[ Rabbits have been getting more scarce, however, and Levi's quite sure he hasn't even seen a deer for weeks at this point. He's been going further out and bringing back less, and that is, to say the least, concerning. He can't imagine growing anything in this weather; they're ought to wait for spring, but will that even come here? ]

[ He and whoever's currently accompanying him on the hunting trip spread out to cover more of the larger part of the woods they had been targeting, but as their paths converge again a few hours later, it seems that his companion is as empty handed as he is -- or perhaps one of them has managed to catch something yet unsatisfactory, like a single small bird or rat. ]

...Still nothing, huh?


b) cw: themes of survival; food scarcity/food insecurity; supernatural weather; altered mental states.

[ Food scarcity isn't new for him. People stole and killed for scraps down in the Underground, and after Wall Maria fell, the situation got worse everywhere. Rationing whatever they have left and stocked up in the town hall is the best idea -- or would be, if there was actually some kind of an end in sight. There isn't. Well, supposedly some of them found a way to grow things in glass houses or something, but it doesn't sound like it really will be enough for everyone. Still, there's no reason not to try surviving as long as possible on what they have. Which means... ]

[ Levi doesn't need his full ration. He's survived on less for years. As long as he's got tea, a few shitty biscuits is enough to keep him going. (Or so he thinks. He might be a little less sturdy than he's used to being, now.) ]

[ So he's going to keep an eye out for someone who looks like they need it -- perhaps someone injured, or one of the teens, or maybe even simply someone he's seen (or heard about) being helpful to the community -- via fighting off pests or threats, providing soap, doing housekeeping and the like. And once he spots someone who fits the bill, he simply walks over to them and practically shoves a small piece of jerky into their hands. ]

Take it.


c) cw: altered mental states; mental manipulation; themes of violence; potential character injury.

[ He's all but forgotten about the talismans that were handed out when he'd just arrived. Witchcraft was weird and didn't work, at the same time, so was being in "Canada", so he'd begrudgingly taken one. It just happened to be one smeared with animal blood, and so, his deterioration is rapid. ]

[ It starts off with simple annoyances -- people saying or doing something he parses as mockery, not listening to him when he tries to order someone around as if they were still in the military, someone wearing the wrong color coat. All the while it's like someone -- something -- is whispering in his ear; egging him on, taunting him, pulling him further and further into a green haze. ]

[ Someone bumps into him and he almost snaps, whipping around and barely containing himself from throwing a punch while at it, glaring down the other person. ]

What's your problem? Don't you have eyes?


d) cw: altered mental states; mental manipulation; themes of violence; potential character injury; NPC death.
(( Note: successfully incapacitating Levi is reserved for Lalo, but others are free to witness the scene from a distance and/or attempt to apprehend him in the meantime. ))

[ From there, it doesn't take long until he loses it completely. He feels less and less like himself and more like someone -- something -- else, perhaps something that had always been lurking at the back of his mind, or he was only worried that it did. Something dark and deplorable and lethal. ]

[ All it takes is a spark. ]

[ Maybe someone pushes him, or tries to pickpocket his last piece of rations, or laughs at his face and tells him a shortstack doesn't get to tell other people what to do. Maybe they suggest he "pays" for some extra food with a "favor". Maybe someone even throws the first punch that he ducks under. ]

[ A moment later, and he's on the ground with a scream of rage, exchanging blows with someone he doesn't know -- John, maybe, but Levi isn't thinking rationally enough to consider the man's name at that point; he's seeing white, or perhaps red, the urge for violence the only thing present in his mind. All you need is power, an oddly familiar yet detestable voice assures him, and everything is lost in static. ]

[ The fight isn't fair; he looks small but he's strong, and heavier than he looks, and most importantly trained well. He straddles John's middle and punches down at him, again, and again, and again, and his fists are coming back bloody but he's not stopping, apparently caught in some sort of a frenzy, continuing even when the person under him stops twitching and trying to throw him off. ]

[ Anyone happening across the scene then might realize that maybe-John's face has caved in at this point, but the smaller man continues mashing it in, teeth clenched in a fury, eyes wide. At least, he doesn't seem to notice anyone else nearby so far... ]


--2. REPRIEVE

[ The next morning is quiet. ]

[ There's a vague sensation of sickness that just won't leave him. He's killed plenty, sure, but this time it had been so... unnecessary. A pointless death. Something he always hated, and now has been the cause of. ]

[ He won't let it weigh on him enough to slow him down -- he could never afford that. But seeing that he's not in the middle of a fight right now, he gives himself a moment to grieve, and mumble an apology to the corpse he vaguely recognizes as one of his own creation. He will help with any grave digging or funeral pyre efforts, though he's got one arm in a cloth sling so he's not all that efficient. ]

[ And then, still early in the morning, he simply leaves. ]

[ Maybe you catch him, with his few belongings and a rifle on his back, slowly making the trek from Milton toward the mines -- or maybe he's only just exiting the town. He looks somber; it's easy to mistake it for a certain finality. ]

[ He doesn't plan to stay away forever, though. Just enough that he hopefully doesn't let the Darkwalker turn him into an instrument of destruction. Maybe he'll find some game to bring back if he travels out far enough. He feels the urge to be helpful, even if he knows it can't exactly undo the harm he's done. ]

[ Perhaps you'd like to convince him to stay -- or to drag him back to stand trial. ]

...


--3. WILDCARD

[ Interested in something else? Hit up my plotting post or @ me in the game discord! ]

1 - b

[moralabsolutism]

[Rorschach knew for a fact he didn't have anything approaching in the way of social skills and was used to the awkwardness that came from interacting with people who did. So he was a bit befuddled when he had someone come into the library and interact just as abruptly with him as he did most of the time.

He stared down at the small bit of food that had been shoved into his hand and then looked back up, remaining silent. It wasn't like he couldn't have used it, not with how scarce food had become, but he was puzzled by this gesture. He'd seen this man around town before, mostly at a distance. At the time, he'd thought he was a teenager, but this close up he saw that he was far older than that. The silence grew until, as usual, he broke it in an abrupt fashion.]

Why?

Lestat de Lioncourt | Interview with the Vampire (AMC)

[flanerie]

[ Starters posted below. Happy to match prose or brackets, and you can find my plotting comment here or reach me at terriblepurpose to discuss any ideas. ]

POLAR SUN - OPEN

[flanerie]

[ cw: altered mental states, possible violence, likely imagined or real gore. ]

[ Endless night should be a gift.

Concealing his nature has required a certain elusiveness on his part. The onset of the long dark frees him from scrutiny over his comings and goings, extends the boundaries he may roam unconcerned, and liberates him from the persecution of dawn.

And he cannot enjoy it, because the darkness comes flooding in as the blood dries up.

Eking out existence on wildlife has been barely endurable even with the recent welcome addition of some variety to his diet. Its absence drives him to gnawing distraction, thirst unslaked interminably. All around him the world is a haze of sickly, verdant rot, as if moonlight itself fell to the earth to fester unwholesomely there. He thinks this is what the animals have fled. He begins to wonder if they have the right of it.

But he cannot leave. He is anchored to this place, or rather, leashed to it. And like the charnel house hound he's been reduced to, he stalks the limits of his chain in foul temper.

Lestat may be found any number of places in Milton through the month - the hall, the snowed roads, the outskirts of town. Standing at the head of one particular street he never ventures down, then walking away from it. Wherever he is, he seems preoccupied, a hollowed, pallid cast over his usually vibrant features.

If he stops to speak to someone, instead of being stopped to be spoken to, he regards them with a somewhat manic gleam to his eyes, his smile overbright and strained. ]

Do you hear that?

[ He asks, intently. ]

vasiliy yegorovich ardankin | original — 1930s russian historical/(secret) revenant

[m1895]

[ open toplevel for the barn fire here; hit me up on plurk (bluehellgazette) or on discord (redmaresociety) if you want to plot sth! ]

wildcard — benton fraser.

[m1895]

[ The news that there are puppies in Milton spreads fast—a bright spot, an isolated moment of joy standing out against the bleak backdrop of their daily lives in eternal winter. They get claimed fast, from what news travels to Vasiliy; Kostya always seems to know things first, somehow, probably because of his ever-growing network of friends here (Who wouldn't want to be his friend?).

As for them, there is no puppy. Though it would certainly be easier than the ongoing process of gaining the trust of the adult dog they keep fed every day, his collectivist mentality wins out: they already have a dog; these people do not. It would be unfair and dangerous to resource hoard in times like these.

Mukhtar slowly seems to be learning his name, at least; he knows from his own experience that German Shepherds are smart dogs, and that's why he had targeted this stray to befriend. He seems to understand when he is being addressed, his large upright ears growing taller on his head, brown eyes watching the source of whichever voice it is closely, but he still won't let either of them come very close, still growls if approached even from quite some distance when he's eating the food they give him.

He doesn't follow any commands, but his vertebrae are less visible now; his coat is a little less dull. He more-or-less stays confined to the bounds of their small homestead, and after the first ptarmigan he killed, there haven't been any others. So there is some progress.

But it's not ideal. He should be doing a lot more, and it's been more than two months. He has underlying issues, a lot of them, and the books on dogs that Vasiliy's borrowed from the library haven't offered very useful guidance, geared more towards the training of puppies and regular dogs without existing problems.

There isn't a terribly high number of dog owners in Milton; the only person he knows to own a dog, other than Young Bill, is the Constable with his Chukchi dog. So that's who he approaches on one of the quieter days.

He knocks on the door to the cabin and waits, unsure if the man is even in—he could very well be with Scout and the puppies. ]

peter parker — tasm — ota

[webshootings]

01. A SIGN OF THINGS TO COME

[ It takes Peter too long to realize what the knot of fear in his stomach is. Ever since he arrived here, there's been some kind of low level anxiety swirling around him but this is different.

This is a real fear. If he were a kid, he'd be diving underneath his blankets and hiding there. But, that's not an option here. He needs to be out there, helping, doing what he can.

Even if he can't eliminate the source of what's causing the fear, he can try and be out there and soothing those that might take this harder than he is. Which is why he's out the door of the home he's staying in and walking around, looking for anyone that might need some kind of assistance.

He tries not to think about the last few times he tried to help someone and how that had ended up.

This is different. He has to make it different. ]

02. POLAR SUN

[ There is something wrong with this place. That's a fact but it's even worse right now. There's something in the air that feels like a knife being constantly twisted and shoved into his back.

There's a nastiness mixed with anxiety that's twisting his stomach and trying to get him to turn all that ire and grief and anger into something physical. But, Peter presses that down.

He tries to remember how people had helped him not too long ago, risking their own lives for him because he hadn't been able to climb out of his grief.

He's not going to let this completely shroud him. He can't. He needs to help and that urge seems to press him forward and out into the suffocating Milton air, looking for anyone that might be falling prey to the hunger in the air. ]

03. REPRIEVE

[ At first, Peter's not even sure it's happening. He sees her, this woman, and she knows him. He's never seen her before in his life but she knows him and she speaks to him and he can't do anything else but listen.

There's something about what she says that settles heavily underneath his ribs and his head rings with her words, ping ponging around in his mind. He blinks and her face is so tired, so drawn that he wants to comfort her.

But, he cannot move.

And then, just like that, she's gone and he's still standing there, trying to figure out if that had happened.

But, he knows that it happened. He has the memories and those are what he's lost in while he distractedly idles around Milton, trying to help pick up the remnants of the bloody night before. ]

04. WILDCARD

[ For anything else that doesn't fit in the above. You can find my plotting comment here. ]

02

[guidemyway]

[Despite her best efforts the hunger and paranoia had gotten to Ruby. She had raided a fair share of houses but hadn't found enough to satiate her churning stomach. The violence starting to break out around town had made it to risky to keep trying.

But that only put her more on edge. She's found an alleyway to hole up in for the moment and her very large scythe gleams in the pale green air.

Her silver eyes are desperate when she sees someone pass by but hasn't quite realized it's Peter yet.]

Back off, I'm not afraid to use this!

closed to snow white and connor wolf!

[bigbaddy]

[ Bigby knows what this is.

Of course he does. It's not even the first or second time he's been through this. The first time was surprising, and the second time was awful-- and this time feels just as awful, that strange sensation of fear that he sure doesn't feel over gripping his chest. But at least he knows what it is. He knows what's happening. The Darkwalker is coming again, ready to claim more of the people here.

But Bigby couldn't move very far even if he'd try. It has nothing to do with the oppressive atmosphere or fear. It's just that he's still injured that he can't move very much at all. He manages to pull himself up enough to sit down on the side of his bed rather than continue to lie down, but even that is painful enough with the way his injuries are still healing. Continuing to sit like this makes him wince with pain, but it's not strong enough to make him lie down. He can't fucking lie down if the Darkwalker is going to descend on this place.

Not when he has so much to protect, injured or not. ]

Snow! [ He calls out, raising his voice hopefully enough for her to hear. Thankfully it's not as weak anymore as it was right after he got injured, but Bigby clearly still hasn't fully gone back to his usual self yet.

But she has to hear it. God, please let her be inside.

The desperation takes shape in the form of a growl-like edge to his words, especially he continues with the other person he has to look out for: ]

Connor!

[ The only upside of this damn injury is that it at least means there's a good chance both people he's looking for are inside the house right now, and he doesn't have to force himself to his feet to try and look for them - though he's ready to, if he doesn't receive any answer. ]

[powersuited]

[ The first time Snow had been awakened to the feeling of terror gripping her tight in her chest, Bigby hadn't been far behind. Maybe that's why, when it happens again, prompting her to jolt up all of a sudden from where she's been asleep on the couch in the living room, her first instinct is to glance in the direction of the bedroom, where she knows Bigby is still recovering. God — he's still injured, still weak, still almost helpless, and he's not going to be able to walk on his own if they need to move all of a sudden —

It's a fight every step of the way, fighting against her own fear, the panic that holds tight around her throat and makes it difficult for her to even muster up a whisper, let alone anything with any sound behind it. ]

I'm here.

[ Her eyes are wide in the darkness, but there's a strange green cast over the room — coming in through the windows, and Snow's first instinct is to stride across the space and yank the curtains closed, blocking out some of it a little more. It takes a moment for her vision to adjust, but she's quiet as she makes her way back to where Bigby's sitting up in the bed, gingerly assuming a seat on the mattress before her hand instinctively slides into his, practically holding on for dear life before her gaze sweeps back to the doorway at the sound of approaching footsteps. ]

Heartman | Death Stranding

[20likes]

[ plotting post! Will match prose or action, whichever works! ]

i. closed to darling;
It's happening. Something is happening, reverberating and richocheting throughout both settlements. A second time, but also different--and Heartman isn't wearing a talisman when it begins.

He wakes from his spot on the couch, an upright startle from a dreamless sleep, the sharp jolt of his heart kickstarting not from a machine like in the past but instead fear and dread. He knows it's happening before it actually does--it's coming, and he is not prepared.

Fear lances through him and Heartman gets to work. He upends tables, from the coffee one in the living room to the kitchen that he and the other people investigating the aurora have taken to use as a research hub. The sky glows green as Heartman gets to work, pushing, moving, barricading. He's in the corner of the ground floor far away from windows, curled up as fear wracks his body, heart beating far more rapidly than it should to a near dangerous degree.


ii. polar sun - ota; cw self harm
Darling levels him out. It's relative: there's still the lingering fear that undercuts everything he's doing now. More than anything he'd felt back home--anything he'd felt here. The talismans help. Heartman makes as many as he can, cutting into his arm for ease and swiftness.

Those with Aurora Call will hear his voice: Interloper blood is the key. It negates it all. Use your own blood if you have to.

He stays mostly in his place, making as many as he can--and on days when he has to rest, he does so lightly, eating what little he can to preserve stores. It's not the first time Heartman has pushed himself like this, and it most likely won't be the last.

After a while, that lingering fear no longer has anything to do with being under the influence of green--instead comes from the scarcity of everything. It's something he's trying very, very hard to bury. It will be fine.

It must be fine.


iii. wildcard, misc - OTA;
Heartman remains visibly rattled from everything, but ultimately sticks to a routine: he helps where he can if something can be done without getting too physical, but is mostly found at his residence, pouring over notes and files in a fervent state. The scientist always makes it a point to visit the community hall in the morning.

iii. cw: eye/neck injuries

[castitas]

[ Kate hasn't strayed too far from the fire, sitting them huddled under a blanket — too exhausted and too sore to help out as Interlopers try to piece themselves back together. There's people, outside. Dead ones. They'll need to count the dead, after the ones who've been hurt have been helped.

She keeps an eye on the doors, literally just about. One eye almost swollen completely shut as red and purple blooms outwards from the socket. Her breath hitches at a familiar sight coming in from the bright cold: Heartman.

She's up in an instant, hurrying over. He looks okay. Without a world, she's hugging him as soon as she's close enough. She doesn't dare speak — it hurts too much through the bruising around her neck. ]

Holland March | The Nice Guys | OTA

[questioningmermaids]

i. Polar Sun - OTA (cw alcoholism)
[ It feels like there's something digging inside his skull. What that something is, March doesn't know--but maybe he's just had enough. The lack of ample supplies, the lack of clarity, the green glow, the cold, the constant fear, it's seeping into him and no amount of moonshine is driving it away. Fear ebbs into worry, slowly twists into something else as the talisman he has with animal blood proves effectively useless. Holland has been the one to call it--the one that had pointed out this shit would happen when he first arrived. No food, no order, chaos. No one listens to him, too caught up in their holier-than-thou bullshit.

March keeps his pistol close to him at all times as he simmers, laid back persona completely gone. He's drunk--of course he is, he always is, but it's with a different air. Usually well manicured facial hair is unkempt, hair flopping in his face, jar of alcohol in hand.

He'll swing if touched. Hell, he'll swing if he's not and he just thinks someone's too close. It's a miracle he doesn't set anything--including himself--on fire. ]


ii. Polar Sun - closed to jason todd + wynonna
[ It's simple enough: March isn't even drunk when he opens his cabin door and sees Jason, and it's like there's some sort of guiding light or homing beacon specifically drawing his attention to the other man. Maybe it's the green glow--or maybe, March thinks, it's because he's seen Jason Todd and his quick wit and throwing knives and bruised knuckles around a little too much, and every single time he does he's aware of how those hands laced through Wynonna's hair and yanked her back during that brawl.

March steps forward, a strange possessiveness he usually doesn't have making his blood run hotter than usual. ]

Hey, Red!

[ March is smiling. He doesn't mean it, taking a step forward, crossing to greet him. ]

Where you headed, pal?


iii. Reprieve - OTA
[ It's a weird feeling, coming down from whatever the hell had happened. Coming back into yourself after God knows what. March distances himself not out of anger, but of a weird sense of guilt.

He'll help after a bit, though. He'll carry bodies if needed, and while he doesn't have a cigarette he's started chewing on some toothpicks he's found, wordlessly offering an extra one his fellow ex-smokers one when he's feeling up for it with a half-smile that doesn't quite reach his eyes. When he does make it back into the community hall, he'll even make sure people have what they need. A poor impression of the Christian Girl who does it all the time, but an attempt to assist nonetheless. ]

Jesus Christ, huh?

iv. wildcard
[ Feel free to hit me up or write up your own! Plotting post here! ]

ii

[reneger]

( where he's heading is no one's goddamn business.

jason does look in slightly better shape than he had last time march had seen him: there's less blood, and a lot of the bruising has died down, if not disappeared entirely. his right arm is in a sling, but it doesn't bother him much. not as much as everything else does; his mouth's twisted into an ugly scowl as march starts towards him, looking significantly too pleased with himself. gross.

especially because it doesn't quite meet his eyes. jason stops in place, boots half-buried in snow and the hood of his jacket thrown up over messy hair. narrows his eyes as he watches him. like he's expecting the worst, because - he always is. )

What.

Francis Crozier | The Terror

[goingtobeunwell]

Open Prompts & Closed Starters ❄️🐻‍❄️⚓🔪🩸🩸🩸

[Plotting Comment for the Event]

Polar Sun - cw cannibalism, gore/injuries, usual warnings for The Terror

[goingtobeunwell]

Before Midsummer

Crozier's not like himself. Not the Francis Crozier the interlopers have come to know, the quiet soul in the sealskin tunic, a man who mainly spends his time in the wilderness picking herbs and mushrooms or teaching people how to fish. His bouts of melancholy leave him irritable and pessimistic, dire about their fates and current state of affairs and quick to drag the others into despair with him. Or worse, he becomes irritable and angry, and a little mean. His old crewmates will know this Francis Crozier, the spiteful captain who sent men to their deaths for want of a bottle of whiskey.

He tries to keep to his usual schedule of drop-offs and weekly conversations and check-ins, but the longer the haze of discontentment and aggression keeps them all within its hold, the worse off his mood seems to be.

It's a roll of the dice which version of Francis Crozier someone may meet out in town or in the wilds outside of Milton.

Solstice - Closed to Raju

His body's been pulverized. He hadn't felt it when it was happening - Christ knows he didn’t feel much of anything beyond the wrath and the arresting need to eviscerate Cornelius Hickey - but he certainly feels it when the mania begins to subside.

Crozier leaves droplets of blood in the snow as he pushes himself to walk just a little further, just a little further, bones scraping together and a sharp pain poking into something soft and vulnerable inside of him. He coughs; it tastes like the warm blood from a freshly-butchered seal. It's the still-warm caribou meat on his tongue, blood soup from Ukaliaq, it's Harry Goodsir’s foot…

He once asked his men to walk over 800 miles, he can walk to his cabin on the Milton outskirts.

He can. He can. He can…not. He cannot. He falls, face down into the snow, and thinks of a poem in a tongue he'd sometimes mangle. They laughed at him quietly at his blunders. He was a white man, a qablunait, and his mind was child-like and prone to whimsy. He could not be blamed for not understanding.

I will sing a song
A little song of myself
Sick have I lain since Autumn
And I have turned weak as a child
Unaya, unaya

Do you know your fate?
Now I lie faint and cannot rise
And only my memories are strong

The snow is cold on his face, but it feels good against his swollen eye.

reprieve - closed to jopson!

[notarat]

There's something strange about the aftermath. Something about the darkness and the chaos had felt like it was unending, to a point where seeing something as normal as a clear sky feels strange now, as if he's dreaming. The signs that the last month sure did happen are still visible on him, after all - mostly in the bruise on the side of his face, even though it's starting to fade at the edges by now. But even though most of the chaos seems to be over by now, there's still an uneasy feeling right underneath Billy's skin. He knows what happened back in the darkness, after all. He knows that people are probably going to demand some sort of Talk about what happened, and-- god, what if anyone finds out what Hickey did? It's going to be a mess.

It's that uneasy energy that makes it hard to sit still. Billy knows he has to get rid of it, especially when an emotion that sits within him too strongly can literally turn into fire. He's moved to sit down on a fallen log, slowly breathing as small flames hover in the air above his palms, as if they're already sparking at his emotions.

He's so busy staring at them that he doesn't quite realise that someone came across him until a few moments later - when he looks up and realises there's clearly someone right there, staring at him.

Something tugs a little at the corner of his lips when he realises who.

".. Mr. Jopson."

[lieutenantsteward]

He nods once. "Gibson."

Carefully, Jopson lowers himself down onto the log as well. His arm has since mostly healed, but the stab wound between his ribs is taking longer. Or, more specifically, the damage underneath his taking longer to heal.

He stretches his legs in front of him, the headache from the past month leaving a wooziness in its wake. Making him almost half-believe that what happened...didn't.

"You shouldn't linger here for long."

eduardo "lalo" salamanca | better call saul

[salamanca]

i. a sign of things to come
When Lalo arrives on the scene at the hydodram, someone is already there. It took him some time to find the medical bay, and when he arrives, he locks eyes with the person who's already there. Meaningfully.

It's strange, how Lalo had been living here until just shortly before this incident. Was this creature going for the hydrodam, or for Hilbert specifically?

If Lalo had been living there still, would it have gotten him too?

One thing's for sure: this is proof that Lalo Salamanca is, in fact, fate's favorite special boy.

He greets the person already there with solemness, but no tears. "Hello," he says, with a quick nod. He stands over the body, both hands in his pockets, surveying Hilbert's face, frozen in terror.

ii. polar sun
a, Milton. Maybe it's a physical altercation, maybe it's simply a verbal one. Either way, someone is coming at you pretty hard and pretty aggressively. Maybe they're even about to swing, or a pull a weapon on you, when someone steps in between the two of you. A warm, gentlemanly voice says, "Whoa, whoa, whoa. What seems to be the trouble here?"

His gaze is on the aggressor, intent.

b, Lakeside. Game is scarce, but less so in Lakeside. Lalo hums to himself cheerily despite that as he moves deeper into the Lakeside forests to find game. And lucky you -- he brought you with him! Or invited himself along with your hunting party. How...nice...?

A strange man with stag horns on his head stares at you both from a distance. Lalo simply waves at him before turning back to you. "So, like I was saying..."

The man with the stag horns is still watching, but he doesn't come any closer.

iii. reprieve
a. Lalo is helping with the cleanup -- it's the stand-up thing to do, after all -- when it all catches up to him. He doubles over, coughing so hard he can barely stand up. He tries to cover it, but it's too much.

He collapses right then and there

b. Lalo is now bedridden with pneumonia! Clearly, he should have listened when he was told to rest. Come visit? Maybe bring food? Or just come say hello!

iii b

[meadqueen]

It seems a strange twist of fate that Randvi has visited more invalids at their bedsides after her own injury than in her entire previous time in Milton. Now here she is at another one. The second case of pneumonia that she knows about here as well, which is alarming but not really surprising.

“Lalo! I heard you were ill.”

Thomas Jopson | The Terror

[lieutenantsteward]

|| ”Polar Sun” - Closed to Wynonna || -- cw: mention of dying, injury description

[She’s gone and there’s nothing left of her save the knife wound in his side and the way his arm still dangles a bit uselessly at his shoulder. He manages to drag his way back home, to the best home he’s ever seen, trailing blood along the way.

There’s a half formed plan in his mind. He is going to go inside, get a bandage, patch himself back together again. He’s going to lie in front of the fire and he’s going to stare up at the ceiling.

He doesn’t make it to the fireplace; he doesn’t make it to the door. The world starts to tilt around him and he stumbles on the steps to the Jackrabbit, falling to his knees on the porch. There’s no grand table this time. There’s Crozier in front of him, whole and healthy and authoritative. Standing stern, his eyes sweeping past Jopson to unseen depths beyond. Jopson falls to his knees, silently begging, but there’s no answer. Nor is there answer from Little, who calls out to someone else in the darkness and follows them off. Jopson curls up slightly in the cold, Goodsir’s hand reaching for him without seeing or feeling and then it’s gone. The Doctor, all laughter and goodwill, walks along, leading away Rorschach and his damnable mask and Jopson is there, alone, shivering in the cold.

Death has come for him again, giving him the spectral figures of all he cares for and who live their own lives. He agonizes over the loss, feeling it deep in his chest, feeling it more acutely than the wound bleeding onto the wooden steps.

He wishes them well.]

|| ”Reprieve” ||

[He isn’t very good at healing. In fact, he’s pretty impatient about it, but there’s so much that he wants to do. He wants to get up and go out. He wants to enjoy the sunshine, chilly as it might be. He wants to be out and about and help, though he’s wary of Wynonna and her watchful gaze.

But a man can sneak out to sit on the porch and enjoy the break every now and again.]

Polar Sun

[pacificator]

[ Not for one moment does she think the trail of blood, bright and fresh even under underwater green gloom that hangs over the world, doesn't lead to her home. Of course it does, it always does. Daddy, Willa, Waverly with that noose around her throat. Of course the violence and the death has followed her here, of course it's bared its fangs and gone, once more, for the people she cares the most about. Welcome home, Wynonna.

She'd started running at the first drops of blood, and now she's sprinting, hair flying like a flag, her heart hammering in her chest as she runs and slips on the snow and picks herself up and pushes forward again, as fast as she can up the walkway to the porch of this absurd cabin and the slumped figure there. ]

Tommy!

[ Her voice is a hoarse yell, ripped from the deepest parts of herself as she reaches him, as she falls to her knees next to him, hands reaching for his coat, his clothes, trying to see where the blood is coming from, and there's so much. There's so much of it. His shirt is soaked with it, and so are her gloves. ]

Hey. Hey. Can you hear me? Thomas— Tommy. It's me.

[ She swallows against a thick throat, a sob in her voice. No, no. She is not losing him, too. She finds the place where he's bleeding and wads cloth against it, puts pressure on it, then forces a watery smile into her voice. ]

I'm here. I came home. I came back to you.

Edward Little ⚓ The Terror

[fidior]

CLOSED STARTERS

⚓ — PLOTTING POST

— Wynonna Earp.

[fidior]

[ There's a woman in furs — Lady Silence, he thinks, for just a moment, until he sees that she isn't. She screams, and the acerbic-green world changes, breaks apart; light floods in, and Edward falls to the snow. When he wakes again, everything is bright and quiet.

But the screams still echo in his head, and the resonating explosion of his gun, and Edward gives a soft cry as he forces himself up — stumbling back over, tipping sideways, and only barely managing to find his footing after. Everything spins. His heart is lurching, his skin is buzzing; he can't breathe, can't think, his body's numb, but his mind isn't. His mind feels everything, remembers every detail, and the horror is.... unbearable. For a long moment, Edward just stands there in the snow, drawing heaving breaths, staring widely and seeing nothing.

It's impossible to know how much time has passed since the bloodbath began — hours, surely, but he doesn't know how many.

He needs to get back. Needs to... help. (Needs to see who's still alive.) Where is Kate? She'd run off again, and there's Irving — Little thinks he's back at the cabin, maybe safe, but he doesn't know that for sure — and there are so many others, so many, too many; he's overwhelmed, stumbling back towards the direction of town, gasping against pained hitches of his lungs, air that feels forced, too tight, too strained. He'd killed someone, shot him, there are pieces of Mikel in too many places, Edward can't breathe, can't find direction—

—and then he finds one, something his mind and heart latch onto in tandem. A direction. His body's already turning that way, making sense of a few buildings and adjusting to head in the direction of her home. Wynonna. Whatever she's been doing through this (whether it's rushing out to try and help others or whether she was caught under the influence of so much aggression) he has to find her. Has to. It isn't a question. There was a bond, a promise made between them — 'you watch my back and I'll watch yours' — but that isn't the only reason, there are others (if he doesn't make sure that she's okay, that she's still alive, he won't be able to continue, can't do it, he has to find her.)

He doesn't know where she is, and there's a panic underlying that thought as he moves towards her cabin, one he literally has to force back, but the dizzying static buzz has spread through his skin and down into the center of him. She probably won't still be at her home, but he doesn't know where else to head to. She could be anywhere. How can he find her, when she could be anywhere?

It's so bright now, especially in comparison to the green gloom that has infected everything for so long, that he's having trouble seeing. His cap is also gone, and without its structure, his hair is a tangled mess of waves in his face. When he sees her, at first, she could be anyone. Any shape in the brightness, and Edward tenses, but then he realises he knows that shape, knows her, and he's almost in disbelief as he moves towards her and calls out. His voice is hoarse around the edges but it comes out louder than he thought it could possibly resonate in his current state. At the sight of her, it (his voice, his heart) seeks her out, and finds her. ]

Miss Earp!