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

[questioningmermaids]

[ What, Red says, like he doesn't know exactly what he's done. He looks like shit. Good.

Strange, for someone who lives in the realm of apathy to suddenly be so perpetually annoyed. March feels alive for the first time in a long time as he puts his hands on his hips, quintessential cop pose he's never fully been able to shake. ]

Got a problem with a question? 'S a pretty simple. I can ask again if you're a bit too slow to get it.

[ He's digging. Looking for a fight. He hardly needs an excuse, but he's going to find one. ]

[reneger]

( he hates cops. almost as much as he hates being questioned. luckily for both of them, jason associates the hands-on-hips bullshit more with superman and wonder woman than with the idiots who run around brandishing badges as if it means anything. because he's actually fond of those two, even if no one's going to get him to admit to it.

this guy's an asshole, but one that jason had been getting used to. obnoxious, smarmy, but a good enough guy to pull wyonna out of their mess when it started going a little too far without starting a bitchfight with them. jason's head tips a little towards march; like he's thinking about the best way to go about answering that. because it becomes obvious the moment the guy goes from got a problem to are you slow that this is him starting shit. two strikes.

and jason's pissy enough as it is. )

You know what I do have a problem with? Self-entitled assholes who think they have a right to get their noses in my business. ( for someone whose voice is usually full of emotion (irritation, sass, pain, that little lilt that makes it clear he's pleased) jason's voice is awfully monotone. not offering anything for march to latch onto - or maybe giving him something else to be pissed off about. ) Who're you again?

[questioningmermaids]

[ March's lips quirk up into a smile, and this time it does reach his face. Red's giving him crap. Of course he is. And he sounds grating when he does it, some nails on a chalk board bullshit that has nothing to do with how much alcohol he's consumed or the useless talisman around his neck.

It's the perfect excuse. ]

You're still funny. That's great! Quick question--you still kicking the shit outta drunk women?

[ He doesn't need to get closer but he does anyway, careful not to be in arms reach. He's seen the guy swing. ]

[reneger]

( three strikes.

the carefully measured, almost neutral expression on his face shifts. lips pull into a tight grin that doesn't meet his eyes, and jason turns his hips so he's got one leg facing march, the other a step back and turned forward. like he's deciding whether or not he should take those few steps forward and knock march's lights out, or if he should book it out of here before a real fight starts. )

Why? You jealous she wanted to play rough with me, but didn't think you could handle it? ( with a look over march - his shoulders, arms, chest, legs. it might have almost looked like jason was flirting, checking him out, if it wasn't for the look on his face or the way his tone shifts to more mocking than anything else. ) Can't blame a gal for that. You look like you'd fall over if someone blew on you hard enough.

[questioningmermaids]

[ While March picks up the shift–he’s a terrible PI but he’s still a PI–he doesn’t recognize the what or the why until Red takes the verbal equivalent of a loaded shotgun and pulls the trigger. It’s what he hates. It’s everything he hates. Insecurity claws at his usually numbed existence, scratching at him and biting.

It’s also exactly what he needs to hear, the last thoughts of maintaining whatever proper behaviour he had in the first place lifting, freeing him. He smiles, wide and not at all genuine. ]

Hey, Red? Fuck you.

[ He swings as hard as he can, planning on hearing the satisfying sound of knuckle-on-skin before he flashes his pistol. ]

[reneger]

( he sees it on his face. feels the deep-seated satisfaction when he realizes jason hit his target right on the mark: everyone has shit they hate being poked and prodded at, and he'd managed to damage his confidence. good. march smiles, and jason grins, all teeth. the fist swings his way, but march may as well be moving in slow motion as far as jason notices. he's taken slugs to the face from batman, grabbing onto the wrist of some idiot trying to start shit with him for fuck if he knows what reason is nothing.

which is exactly what he does go for: march swings at him, jason shifts to the side just enough to avoid it and grabs onto march's arm. uses his momentum against him to throw the man over jason's (injured, but it doesn't matter; he's putting march's weight over it, not relying on muscle) shoulder and down onto the hard ground below him. drops down to his knee to dig it hard into march's sternum with all two hundred and thirty pounds of him leaning onto it. )

[questioningmermaids]

[ March is far from a fighter--what he learned in the police academy he's barely retained--but he has is ungodly luck, sheer determination, and a body that's practically made of rubber. He sees that grin, knows exactly what's going to happen but doesn't have time to properly act on it.

Ass over teakettle is familiar and something he can handle, wind whistling as he tumbles, seeing temporary stars as his head hits the ground. He's starting to scramble up and not waste too much time when that knee crunches into his chest a split second later, a high, effeminate yell bursting out of him and echoing through the town.

He shouldn't have picked a fight he knew he couldn't win, not that it's going to stop him. There's a great way to balance it out and level the playing field: March purposefully starts swinging erratically at Jason's face with his dominant hand, struggling through despite the sputtering cough that's started just as his scream ended. He's just the town drunk, the village idiot, right? Of course he doesn't know how to fight. ]

I hope you see Nixon, motherfucker!

[ His other hand is fumbling desperately for his gun, hoping the distraction works. ]

[reneger]

( march isn't a fighter, and jason's in a real shit mood. it doesn't make for a good combination, but it at least means that when march starts throwing his arms around as if that's going to do anything, jason's cares less about how stupid he's being and more about getting him to fuck off. he pulls out a stupid as shit comment, and jason rolls his eyes before he's leaning down, closer. grins right in march's face as his uninjured hand grabs hold of the wrist he's flailing with. holds it down against the ground, while jason hovers close enough that one might mistake it for intimacy.

if it wasn't for the shit that came out of his mouth, )

I've already been to Hell an' back, sweetheart. Think it might be your turn this time 'round.

[questioningmermaids]

[ This hurts. A lot. Understatement of the century, but even in his madness Holland is incredibly aware that this is not a good match-up at all. Probably why he decided to do it.

Hard to dwell on complexities when there's a large amount of muscle pressing you into the ground. But he's got newly freed gun and worse comes to worse he's also got fire. Panting with the effort, not really able to come up with anything quippy other than a strained 'fuck you,' March moves to pull the trigger. ]

[pacificator]

[ It's madness everywhere; people fighting, grappling, screaming at each other. She can feel it snagging in her own chest like a broken claw, a flush heating her face like drink.

But she'd promised Kate, and March, and Little, and Bigby, that she'd stop being so reckless, and the sheer novelty of having people give a shit about her is bright and present enough to keep her from falling into fury the way so many others have. That, and she's been busy, traveling back and forth between Milton and Lakeside, trying to keep an eye on her people as much as she can when they're this scattered. It's a fool's errand, but she tries it anyway.

And hey— look at that, it's two for one; a thing she thinks first when she sees Holland and Mal. It's hard to tell at first what's going on: they could be fighting, they could be making out (nice, if true, for both of them; she sees the appeal), but then she sees a glint of metal and Holland's finger curling around the trigger and she launches herself at them like a rocket. ]

March, stop!

[ She doesn't stop. There's not time. Instead, she flings herself bodily at Mal, her chest catching him just above the elbow of the arm he's not using to pin March as she tackles him to the side. There's a sharp report and she hears something whizzing through the air like an angry insect, feels a tug on the side of her winter coat as she and Mal go tumbling towards the ground at March's side. ]

[reneger]

( he's not worried about the gun. he knows it's loaded, knows it's close enough march would have to be a real idiot to miss from this range, but jason also knows damn well a bullet at this range is going to rip right through him, and unless it hits just right, he's still going to have plenty of time to shove his fist into march's face, take the gun, and bash his skull in with it for thinking bringing a gun to a fistfight was a swell idea.

instead, as march's finger tightens on the trigger, wynonna's voice cuts through. he's tipping his head to look over towards her just in time for her to catch him, painfully, by the arm he's still nursing. she's not big enough to knock him over, not by shoving on him like this, but jason helps: he doesn't stiffen up to keep her from shoving him, especially with a bullet flying, and instead falls over to the side taking wynonna along with him for the ride.

gives an oof as he hits the ground on his good arm, and rolls over onto his back while wrapping the other around her. and offers, before march can get a word in - )

He started it.

[questioningmermaids]

[ It's a blur. There's gun-Wynonna-snow-ground-yelling, and if March wasn't already used to rolling with the punches he'd be a little slower on scrambling upwards. He still has the gun by some Godforsaken miracle--or maybe that's just the bizarre case of Holland March's luck. ]

Fuck you, I started it?

[ He definitely fired the gun. It missed, but did he--

--Fuck, did he almost clip Wynonna? There's a panic that's slowly starting to seep through. Enough that while the gun's still trained on Red but it's shaking, just a little. ]

Get outta the way.

[pacificator]

Yeah, I believe it, [ she says to Mal, and then: ] March—

[ Her voice is full of warning, like a cat's flicking tail ands staring, dilated eyes, and she'd like nothing more than to just stay here in the snow with Mal, who at least seems like himself, but March is not himself, he's gone crazy, like so many people here have gone crazy, and that means she's gotta get up, to face the worst thing yet that Milton's version of the Purge has decided to throw at her.

She doesn't want to hurt him. Green light flashes off his little snub-nosed revolver, and she can feel the weight of Peacemaker at her hip. Her arm is healed enough; she could draw and shoot before he blinks.

Her hands stay up. Palms toward him, shoulder-height, as she gets to her feet between him and Mal, as she stares him down, unblinking, conscious of how absurd this must look, her protecting a man twice her size. ]

No.

If you want to shoot him, you have to shoot me first.

[reneger]

( jason's usually angry at something. lately? the lack of food, how shit the jacket he came here in is for this kind of weather, when it's his favorite. that tim and damian are stuck in this bullshit, when neither of them has done jack to deserve it. his complete inability to do anything of use around here. himself, for the bullshit he pulled just before he dropped down into the snow. he knows anger. i am the rot, the voice had said. and i will rot within you.

no, jason is the rot in himself, thank you. he will cause his own fall, no one else gets the credit for that. not some asshole darkwalker, not fucking march. he's angry, but it's anger that's pointed in. and it's his, no one else's.

wynonna gets up to her feet, but march doesn't put the gun down. and jason stays down, back in the snow, dull blue eyes focused on march, not the woman standing between them, trying to defend him. )

You wanna fight me? Put the gun down, it's a waste of ammo. If you've gotta rely on a fucking pistol, don't start a fight at all. Idiot.

[questioningmermaids]

[ Wynonna's blocking his way, and the anger March feels is very rapidly turning towards her. It's her fault anyway. She broke up a perfectly good fight--one he was going to win--and caused him to nearly shoot her. She's nothing but goddamn trouble.

It's Red's words that make him completely refocus his rage. He doesn't want a fight with a pistol? Fine. March drops it next to him on the snow and immediately attempts to lunge by Wynonna and plant his fist right into Jason's face, growling in an alarmingly animalistic fashion. ]

[pacificator]

[ She'll give this much to March: he makes contact, and it's reasonably solid. She can almost feel the crunch of knuckle against bone like it's her own fist.

Unfortunately for March, lunging for Mal has put him at just the right height for Wynonna to reach down, curve her fingers almost tenderly around his head, and bring him in to meet her rising knee. It gets him right in the jaw, and he crumples into the snow, out cold.

For a long moment she looks at him, her chest rising and falling with quick, shallow breaths, before she pushes out an exasperated sigh through her nose. ]

They look so peaceful when they're sleeping, don't they?

[ Half-turning, she offers Mal a hand up, bracing herself against his weight in case he takes her up on it. ]

What the hell happened?

[reneger]

( that's going to leave a nice shiner. at least jason moves into the hit, so it doesn't fuck him up as badly as it could have. but it pulls march's attention back to him, which had been jason's goal. wynonna takes advantage of it and knocks him out, and jason's - still there on the floor beside march.

looking up towards wynonna's hand for a moment before he reaches out to take it, and pulls himself up with her help. )

He thought it'd be real fun to piss me off.

[pacificator]

[ She exhales with an exasperated explosion of breath, setting her hands on her hips in an unconscious imitation of the man currently crumpled in the snow at their feet. ]

Idiot.

[ March's gun is still there by his hand; she reaches down to grab it, tucking the little snub-nosed pistol into the back of her waistband before looking back over at Mal. ]

Look, you don't owe him shit, but if you'd give me a hand getting him inside, I'd appreciate it.

[reneger]

I'd just hate to see him freeze to death.

( there's a shit in his tone, from vaguely annoyed to amused. because he doesn't owe march jack shit, but he can make his own fun. now that he's not knocked over anymore, jason kneels on the snow close to march, and - shoves his good arm under his shoulders, holding most of his weight with that one while the other curls under his knees so jason can pick him up and out of the snow.

into a nice princess carry pressed close to his chest while sleeping beauty rests off the knee he took to his jaw. )