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

[sputnik]

[ No matter how much Vasiliy tries to reassure him, Konstantin can't help latching onto every worrisome thing — every pause of breath, every strain, every cough. He's nodding, quickly— ]

Yes, please. Use it as long as you think you need to. I can help do whatever needs doing.

[ Vasiliy's probably exhausted, ready to wash off and slip into bed right this moment, but clearly that isn't an option just now. ]

Would you like me to help you sit down in the living room? More comfortable there. Until it's safe to take the mask off. Then I can help you wash, and get into bed.

[ He doesn't hesitate to offer both things; he'll do whatever it takes. ]

[m1895]

[ Even in his current state of fatigue, the corners of Vasiliy's eyes crinkle at that, his cheeks barely rising behind the silicone seal of the mask. ]

I'll grind soot into the couch. You'll never get the smell out.

[ Kostya helping him wash. That would be... something, and if he didn't feel so horrendously ill right now, the offer would qualify as the stuff of fantasies. But right now, he's just trying to refrain from vomiting in an oxygen mask.

Does the offer still stand when I'm feeling a little better?

The kind of thing he would have said outright, in the late 30s, at least when there was a chance of it being well-received by the intended audience. Now he keeps it to himself—but one way or another, the thought still crosses his mind, even with the worst headache of his life clouding his mind. A testament to how handsome he is. ]

[sputnik]

[ Konstantin laughs, finally, before he can stop himself — a genuine reaction, even if more subdued than his usual boisterous things. ]

I don't mind a little soot. Not even a lot of it.

[ He doesn't mind anything, not for Vasiliy. ]

Unless you don't want to move around. In which case, we can stay here at the table. I'll keep you company.

[ The thought of leaving him alone is unthinkable. ]

[desperate_times_right]

Oh, definitely. Her being mad about it might only add to the appeal.

[desperate_times_right]

Ugh, no wonder he is so ambivalent about the officers, in that case.

“Well, fuck those guys. Here you have other options.”

They might not be great options, or even appealing, but they do exist.

[fidior]

[ "Chill out"

What does that mean—

But he garners enough of the meaning when Wynonna pushes him back down. Little blinks up at her, startled, but tired. The surge of adrenaline has crossed the threshold, a wave crashing so violently upwards and then falling back down, leaving him spent. The thought of sleep, however, is almost unthinkable — as much as his entire body wants to lie down and succumb to it, his mind still spins with thoughts of where he should be, what he should be doing.

His eyes follow the woman's gesture to her nearby bed, staring there for a long moment. It almost seems unreal, the sight of it — glowing warm and soft the way it is. The sun is... strange to witness, after so long without. He's reminded, at once, of seeing sunlight again after months without it in the arctic.

Back then, he'd thought that with it, would come hope.

But only back then. Now.... he doesn't know what he feels. There is nothing shaped like hope. He feels an emptiness, one that gapes wide and might gape wider still with time, only he's too exhausted right now to even truly face that much.

Even so — and perhaps he is still somewhat human and not fully ghost after all — the sight of a warm, soft bed draws forth some instinctive, yearning need. ]

...Okay, [ he agrees, finally, but only because Wynonna said 'we both' — she needs it just as much as he. And on that note— ]

You rest first. For as long as you need. I'll keep watch to make certain no one... To make sure it's safe.

[ It's not stubbornness (maybe a little), but more of what he truly does think is right. ]

[flanerie]

"I never would have thought I'd long for sunrise again," he says, musing and amused at once. "Not like this."

It's easy to abandon the topic of the dead man already fading to a meaningless impression. He thinks nothing of Chloe moving past it, except a general pleasure that she's been so amicable about the whole affair.

The blank blackness of the sky is harder to forget, and more personally irritating.

"There's a scent to it. Sunlight. Have you ever noticed? After dusk, as the air freezes, clinging to the trees. I've always enjoyed it."

There's a tinge of longing in his voice he takes no steps to conceal, but not melancholy. Chloe says if, but Lestat is certain of when. Things always change, eventually. It's only that that not everyone enjoys the luxury of knowing they'll see that change, however long it takes.

[wingbound]

"Yeah, it does." There's no argument there, he's definitely won a number of scuffles by letting his opponents think he's small and weak, especially when he was still young. But it didn't take that long for him to gain a reputation, which put an end to such misconceptions.

Mostly. He still ran into some guys who had never heard of him before, or heard of him but didn't recognize him. Too bad for them.

"It's still annoying sometimes."

Like when people talk him down or don't trust him to handle something just because he's a little vertically challenged. He's mostly made his peace with it, but an unexpected remark still stings every now and then.

[salamanca]

Lalo has nothing but patient, but fortunately, between his Tio and his Michael, that includes patience for cranky old men with no patience of their own.

Crozier's angry glare at the door jamb is kinda funny, but Lalo is careful to keep a straight face. Showing his amusement might make Crozier madder, which would make this take longer, which would make Crozier even madder. Ad infinitum.

Lalo scoops handfuls of snow into his hands. Gently, he heats up his skin enough to melt them, carefully pouring the heated water over the iced over door. It takes some time, and a few scoops; hands aren't the most accurate ways to pour warm water over ice, it turns out. But eventually, Lalo is able to get the door starting to creak open.

"There we go," he says, proudly. "I think we've got it."

[lieutenantsteward]

Thomas has more than enough propriety to not point it out. He's certain Gibson understands.

"Ah, well there are some tasks that require a little more finesse than my bones can take," he says easily, diplomatically. He doesn't know if he will ever ask him, but he certainly will let him know the offer is there.

[salamanca]

Lalo isn't nearly as shaken as Billy. In fact, he's downright chill. He can tell Billy is nervous, though. He claps Billy gently on the shoulder as they go into Billy's home. "Relax!" he says. He's grinning. Body language loose and relaxed.

"Well, what can I say? I'm full of surprises!"

[desperate_times_right]

“Huh.” Chloe thinks about that. “I haven't. Sunrise has a smell to me, but I think that's just the dew forming.”

She's not so confident that things will return to normal, shorter-lived and used to sudden catastrophic change.

“Must be weird to miss it, though, you're right.”

[desperate_times_right]

“Tell me about it,” Chloe isn't exactly short, but she's used to people underestimating her for other reasons. She knows a thing or two about reputation, too.

“As long as you can help me out, I really don't care.”

[tinstar]

He can't help but pull a crooked smile at Lalo's energy, almost impressive in its own right after such a confirmation, and it leads Raylan to think that's a defense mechanism. Hard to get through a wall of purposeful positivity that undercut tense situations to tilt them towards 'Go along to get along'. A useful social skill.

"Oh, I think plenty of people might." Himself included. "Stress levels rise, folks always end up finding an outlet. It's a fifty fifty chance of if they find one that doesn't end up with someone dead. Gas's gotta vent sometime. Good of you to step in. Mind if I ask what the fight was about?"

[webshootings]

Oh uh, yeah. Kind of picked it up back home.

[ He shrugs like it's no big deal or anything like that. ]

I got bullied a bit in school so better to know how to defend myself than to ust let it happen, you know? Spent less time getting my nose punched this way.

[wingbound]

"Good."

Unless she wants to add anything else, he'll stop the conversation there, focusing on dismantling their chosen cabin and muttering swears every now and then when met with a particularly stubborn piece of wood.

A few hours later and they have themselves a pretty wrecked cabin, and a pretty sizeable pile of planks and wood. Levi stares it down, picking up a few pieces to hold them together and then putting them back down, as if waiting for inspiration.

"Do we have a plan for this? It needs to let in light, right?" So all this wood might not actually be as useful as, say, windows might be. He doesn't know about translucent polyethylene that could be pulled over a wooden frame, but that would probably need to be scavenged around town anyway if there even exists any.

ZERO worries at all, I've been running so slow myself!! ;~;

[fidior]

Again, some part of Little knows this particular accusation, out of any others, isn't fair. His captain couldn't have known what would transpire in those hours to follow.

A vote. The remaining, able-bodied men held a vote while he was asleep. It's almost laughable; was it some last attempt to be decent? To vote fairly rather than outright rise against him? Something that separated them from the mutineers, from being bad men? Only now does Little truly realise that the concept of being 'a good man', that thing he'd held onto so fiercely, refusing to let go of, meant nothing, in the end.

He'd abandoned his captain. He'd left the sick to die — an outright opposition to Crozier's wishes. Whatever reasons there may be to it slip through his fingers, useless. (What else could he do? God, what else could he do? Remain with a handful of dying men, and starve himself? Walk on his own into Hickey's camp to rescue his captain and be killed immediately? Or truck on, lead the ones who could still walk and think and had not yet rotted fully away, try to live?)

Here and now, the reasons don't matter. He does not want to face that he'd reasoned such a horrific thing at all. What sense can be made when one has to decide which men to help? Which men to try and save? How can lives be voted against, reasoned against?

Crozier's angry. Stepping closer, gripping his arm tightly, and Edward lets him, but his nostrils flare, eyes wide, angry and hurt and self-loathing.

I believed in you!

"You believed I would come!" He shouts back, heart splitting. "I have heard it from Dr. Goodsir, here in this place. He told me how you waited for me. How you— You thought I would come. You planned for me to."

Oh, it hurts. It hurts more than anything ever has. He hears his voice crack, a fissure that opens up and threatens to swallow him whole. Yes, he'd tried to do what he only could after that — tried to lead the men South, tried to keep them alive, tried, tried (and his last memory is of trying, of starting the march onwards, back turned to those shredded tents and the dying men inside of them. Thomas Jopson was one of them. Does Crozier know that? Does he know that one of the men left behind to suffer was his former steward, currently appointed lieutenant, and perhaps even greater than both of those things — a close, beloved one, for Little may not know the true depth of their relationship, but it was clear to anyone how close they were. How loyal and devoted Jopson was to the man, in ways that were perhaps equal, but at the same time different, to Little's own.)

'What the hell else more could you have done than that?'

Hearing him say that — he isn't blamed, Crozier doesn't blame him, but his heart only aches harder, deeper. What exactly is he so upset with this man for? For believing in him? For forgiving him? His mouth is held in a grimace, heart pounding. It isn't Crozier's fault that Little carries what he does, that he can't ever forgive himself for it.

"You should not have believed in me." He tries to pull back from him, more harshly than he's ever been with the other man, jerking his arm backwards. "You should have— there should have been someone else! I was never going to be enough! And now I— now I am trapped here with these ghosts of our men, with the way they look at me. No matter how much time passes, how can anything erase what I've done? To them? To you? I should not have lived, I-I should have died!"

[desperate_times_right]

“I was thinking about getting glass from the uninhabitable cabins, but I know if it would work.”

Chloe shrugs. She's never really done anything like this before.

“They might have clear plastic sheeting at the farm.”

sorry for these late tags!

[thedreamer]

It's only a theory, of course, but — yes, I do. She was in pain, hurt, hunted, haunted, reaching out. And again this time, but — different than before.

I don't know if we're supposed to help her, if we even can, if she's more than just a dream or a presence. Or maybe she's helping us.

[ The thoughts tumbling loose in his mind with nowhere to go, no clear path. He looks to Peter, letting out a breath. ]

I only want to be ready to stop this before it happens again.

[wingbound]

"Is the construction different for each of these?" he clarifies, not able to conceptualize what plastic sheeting is, in his mind it definitely looking more like something that gets put on the roof. "In that case we should probably see what we can find before we start."

There are several windows in the cabin they're working on, but certainly not enough to build a greenhouse out of.

*DON’T know oops

[desperate_times_right]

“Yeah, I think so? I've never really built anything before.”

It's the blind leading the blind here.

pfft I didn't even realize it said something else, good job brain

[wingbound]

It really is. Perhaps they should find someone more qualified to help...

Or they could continue to trial and error it!

"Do you want to split up and look for supplies, then? I know what windows look like," he supplies helpfully, though his expression doesn't betray any attempt at humor.

[desperate_times_right]

“Good for you.” She would hope so by now! “Let's do it.”

[castitas]

[ Kate's own smile is thin, lopsided — her skin too tender on one side to really pull it off. That too, she guesses. A locked door to keep her safe. Somewhere safer to hide. Her expression grows sombre: what else can she do? She's... not good at any of this. Even if Wynonna mentioned teaching her how to defend herself — she doesn't have a whole lot of faith in herself in being able to really pull it off.

She's so tired. But she nods. It's still a nice thought to look forward to, even with the heaviness about her. Kate's quiet for a moment, slow to react to the question then shaking her head. ]

I can wait. There's... people a whole lot more hurt than I am.

[ She'd already waved of Methuselah. She can wait her turn. She's just sore, more than anything. There's people bleeding a whole lot more, or like— she doesn't want to cause a fuss. She can wait. Her face hurts real bad— Kate hesitates, actually— ]

... But— um, if— if you could maybe ask Mr Methuselah or— [ Her eyes flit around the room, searching. ] well, anyone I guess. For some Tylenol? Pain killers. They'll know what you mean. Just in the meantime. That'd be enough.

[pacificator]

What I need is to sleep for like two days straight, so probably better if I take first watch.

[ Like she's going to sit here and let him try to stay awake while she rests, even without the possibility that he might try to get out of here once she's woken up, before she can bully him into taking a break. Wynonna rocks forward to pat him on the knee, before leaving that hand there to brace her weight against him as she pushes back up to her feet. ]

Come on. My only rule is 'no boots in the bed.' Shake a leg, Little. The sooner you get some rest, the sooner you can get back out there.

[ Out there, back into a world that's settled for now but which is still filled with the detritus of the hurricane that swept through only hours, days ago. They'll need to deal with the man he killed, and maybe he'd be willing to help her with Elias, too... though she's far from sure she wants to set any of that on his shoulders when he's already dealing with so much.

Still, there's one other thing she can offer now: she goes to the kitchen and takes down a bottle of familiar golden liquid, splashes some into a tea cup. ]

Down this. Might help you sleep, definitely helps with everything else.

[ She comes back to offer the tea cup to him, a puddle of Scotch there in the bottom. She keeps the bottle for herself and taps bottle to cup with a wry lift of her wrist before she brings it to her lips for a quick swig, liquid sloshing against glass. ]

Well, it doesn't hurt, anyway.