extinction is the rule

[singmod]

SEPTEMBER 2023 EVENT

PROMPT ONE — THE AURORA: AFTERSHOCKS: The Aurora comes, bringing chaos to the town of Milton. Electronics go haywire, and the Interlopers learn of the original citizens of Milton.

PROMPT TWO — THE HOUR OF THE WOLF: Tainted by the Aurora and attracted to the noise of people inhabiting the town, several packs of wolves descend upon Milton.

PROMPT THREE — IT SPEAKS: A voice comes to the Interlopers, one that knows them and their darkest fears and deepest insecurities, persuading them to fade into the Long Dark by any means necessary.

THE AURORA: AFTERSHOCKS

WHEN: Sporadic nights over the next month.
WHERE: Milton area.
CONTENT WARNINGS: supernatural horror; ‘ghost’ horror; hauntings; death of npcs in various ways including suicide, murder or exposure to elements.

After the feast, and making sure the newcomers to Milton are seen to, Methuselah packs up. He will explain to others that while he will return to check in, he is no resident of Milton and will not stay. He is a nomad, something he has been all his life. He lives in nature. That is where he belongs. But he does assure that people are welcome to remain sheltered in the Hall if they wish to. And sure enough, the old man leaves, wishing the newcomers well. He can still be found out in the wilderness, and will shelter and feed those out exploring should they come across him.

And so the days and nights of this world roll on. The initial time of those who have come to be stranded in this world is unsettled. The weather is always changing, even if it remains bitterly cold. On some nights throughout the next month, however, the snow clouds clear and Interlopers are given a rare, clear night. At first, it’s beautiful: without the light pollution, all the stars can be seen, the moon casts an eerie glow upon the snow in the dead silence of the night. One might even say there is a kind of peace that comes with it all. And for some of these evenings, they pass by: uneventful and silent — the long darkness of an endless winter’s night.

But on others, it isn’t so uneventful. The noise starts: faint at first, but then growing louder. Something in the heavens above. An ethereal, high-pitched chorus of sounds difficult to place. There’s a kind of electrical buzzing with it all, a low, endless hum punctuated with cracks and pops that echo. The sky is alive with sound, louder than anyone could ever expect it to. With it comes the swirling streaking of colour against the inky black of night, growing brighter and brighter as the night goes on: The Aurora has come.

And it isn’t the sky that comes to life too: the whole town does too. Streetlights, illuminating the town’s roads; lights in stores and homes will come alive, buzzing and flickering often. Previously abandoned cars will turn on, their headlights blaring but faltering. Electronics that had previously seemed broken flick on — and whilst there are no broadcasts available on televisions, and the radio waves only drone on in static, both only occasionally blaring standard emergency broadcasts. Any computers and phones will turn on, but will have no internet or reception. Instead, Interlopers may find texts and emails — many of them unsent. The everyday lives of their users stored within, now readable.

But there’s something else too. The Aurora doesn’t just awaken the electronics of the town. Dotted around, in the streets, in homes, in stores, the lights of the Aurora begin to take shape: spectral-like forms of people, their faces hard to make out, details difficult to define. They move in glitching patterns, they speak with voices distorted by static. Eagle-eyed Interlopers may recognise the forms of some, a body or an action:

These are the residents of Milton, in their last moments on this earth.

The forms act out short scenes on repeat: a desperate fight between two men over a vehicle, a murder in a store during a riot, a suicide alone in one of the many houses. An argument over the communication lines going down. A sobbing teen curled up on his bed. A child stares up at the skies, their hands over their ears, crying in fright. A woman begs for her father to leave his home and head to the coast with her, to try to make it to the mainland, but he refuses to leave. A man succumbs to the cold walking alone in the outskirts of town without proper clothing for the elements. Several of these ‘ghosts’ are people fleeing before they stop and simply gasp, staring off into the distance for a few seconds before they drop dead on the spot.

There is nothing that can be done to stop these endless loops. Nothing to help these poor souls. Each of these moments are captured by the Aurora: final, desperate and tragic moments in some unknown, chaotic time. Some of these ‘ghosts’ maybe stop after so many loops — flickering out into nothing, others will last all night. But all will be gone by the morning and the Aurora comes to an end. There are answers, and there are none.

THE HOUR OF THE WOLF

WHEN: Sporadic nights over the next month.
WHERE: Milton.
CONTENT WARNINGS: (wild) animal attacks, altered wildlife, possible character injury/death, possible (wild) animal injury/death.


The growing presence of people within the town of Milton has meant more light, more warmth, more noise. The Aurora has created great change, but people are not the only thing the ethereal lights in the sky has brought down upon this old mining town.

When the sun slips below the horizon, and the clear skies of burnt embers and inky blues alight with stars, they come.

A lone howl, long and haunting. It is the first signal, which carries on the air. You can’t seem to place from which direction it comes from, it feels like it encompasses you. Then another voice joins it, and another, and another. A chorus of them. As the sound echoes off, another fills its place: a strange feral chittering, snarling and snapping — the drumming of feet upon the snow, heading right for you.

Wolves.

Unnatural, glowing green eyes in the dark — tendrils of light seeping from them as they rush in and encircle those they come across outside. They come in packs of three or more, and they are clever. They’re quicker than any wolf you’ve ever known, bigger and hardier too. They will try to strike fast by zipping in when you’re distracted, snapping and nipping at legs or trying to take quick bites out of arms before drawing back. They work together to bring their prey down, a solid unit of noise and teeth. They will hunt down those who hide inside, try to claw their way inside of homes and buildings — dead set on finding you and tearing you apart. There is no hiding from them. They will find you.

But breaking the pack can send them back. If they’re broken, their morale is depleted. Fire is your biggest friend: torches, campfires and flames will keep them mostly at bay and only the bravest of these packs may attack. Striking them with flares or flames will actually send them into brief retreats. Bullets and arrows are effective with both noise and injuring the wolves, and although hitting one will be difficult due their speed, it’s possible. Killing one of these wolves will dissolve the pack’s morale entirely, and the rest will flee off into the night.

Until next time. Maybe it’s best you don’t stick around. They do hold a relentless determination.

IT SPEAKS

WHEN: Over the next month, possibly longer.
WHERE: Milton.
CONTENT WARNINGS: psychological horror; mental manipulation; themes of suicide; themes of depression; potential self-harm; potential feelings of isolation; potential attempted suicide.

There are whispers. Small, at first. Distracting. Perhaps it is only the wind you hear. Milton is so quiet, even with the new hustle and bustle of the new people to this place. Wood creaks and the trees rustle, there are plenty of sounds you could mistake it for.

‘Interloper.’ It is an old voice. Something deep and dark and ancient. Something impossible, older than the earth itself. It floats into your ears and nestles there, sending an ice-cold shiver down your spine. Even to the most stoic and unshakeable souls, it is a unnerving voice. It feels wrong. It feels like an ending. To hear the voice is deeply unsettling... and yet... you recognise it.

It comes to you, in the dead of night when sleep is far. In the long stretches of day as you go about your business, as you travel across the frigid landscape or gather firewood or try to pass the time within whatever home you’ve made for yourself. For some the voice will be clear as day, for others it may be some distant whisper — something gently murmuring in your ear. But the voice will be heard, no matter the person.

‘Interloper. Do you know what it means?’ It asks. ‘It means one that involves itself in a place it does not belong. You do not belong.’

That it isn’t the only thing it tells you. For everyone, it’s different. It knows you. It picks up on any weakness, any insecurity. It makes you feel small, insignificant. It tells you all the quiet, terrible things you hide down within yourself. For days, weeks, the voice is there. Speaking to you. It will wear you down, insist you are not wanted, that you do not belong here.

... And wouldn’t it be better if you weren’t here at all?

The voice seeks to break you. It will push you to your limit. Sleep will become hard to find, your spirits low and hollow. In time you might seem to believe it. Maybe it’s better if you weren’t here. You don’t belong in this place, why should you stay?

‘Disappear, Interloper. Go into the Long Dark.’

Perhaps you next find yourself atop the steep cliffs, looking down into the Milton Basin below. Perhaps you find yourself with a gun in your hand, or a rope. Perhaps you find your feet carrying you out into the snow. You’re going to disappear. You’re going to go into the Dark.

Or maybe the voice isn’t so loud. You can push it down, ignore it. Perhaps Faith is what keeps you steady, perhaps knowing who you are despite your faults stops the voice from taking over. Maybe you can help those who can’t block out the voice. Words of encouragement, affirmation, kindness, determination, even spite. The voice wants you dead, but you will not let it. You will not fall. You will not let anyone else fall, either.

FAQs

THE AURORA: AFTERSHOCKS

1. While examples are given, players are encouraged to come up with their own ghostly loops of similar loops. The key thing to remember is that the people of Milton have descended into public disorder. Fights, arguments and murders have occurred, as have suicides or other unexplained deaths. People are frightened. They want to leave the town.

2. Ghostly loops cannot be interacted with, only witnessed.

3. There is no way of putting these 'ghosts' to rest. These loops are more like residual memories, as if the energy of the townsfolk remained, and have been reconstructed by the Aurora.

4. The wolf attacks and Auroras occur on sporadic nights over the course of the next month, with the Aurora being the first thing, then the wolves. It's unlikely you'll get both on the same night. While the wolves are attracted to the Interlopers' activity, the Aurora's light and noise will keep them away from the town during Aurora Nights.

5. Sharp-eyed Interlopers may notice that the 'ghosts' of those who are staring off into the distance before gasping and dropping dead are looking skyward, towards the east.

THE HOUR OF THE WOLF

1. Due to the Aurora's influence, these wolves are harder, better, faster, stronger, than typical wild wolves. They do not die as easily, and are much more difficult to wound and kill. But not impossible. Scaring the wolves will be far easier to accomplish.

2. Wolves will return, sometimes more than once on the same night, or on other nights during the month. The only sure-fire way to have them stop coming back is to kill the pack.

3. Wolf meat is technically edible. But not advised due to parasites. Characters are still welcome to harvest the wolves they kill, however. Who would say no to a cool ass wolf cape.

4. The wolf attacks and Auroras occur on sporadic nights over the course of the next month, with the Aurora being the first thing, then the wolves. It's unlikely you'll get both on the same night. While the wolves are attracted to the Interlopers' activity, the Aurora's light and noise will keep them away from the town during Aurora Nights.

IT SPEAKS

1. Characters can be talked down and broken from the voice's influence by others. Genuine connection and empathy will work massively, but even encouragement and affirmations to keep surviving will be powerful enough to break the voice's hold.

2. Players are welcome to play with the length of time the voice can be heard with characters. Some may want to have it over a short space of time, others can have this progress over a longer time period.

3. The voice can come at any time over the next month.

PLOTTING POST

Comments

— IT SPEAKS ( open )

[amo]

[ The voice itself may be new, dark and old as it sounds, but what it tells Vash isn't. It more feels like a reminder why, on the sandy planet he called home, his face has been plastered on wanted posters all over No Man's Land. He's used to being an unwanted presence, having lost count of the times he's been chased out of towns, with or without any rock-throwing of scared residents included. He hasn't created any messes here (yet anyway) nor is he here of his own volition so he staunchly ignores the voice. To keep himself from stewing on all the things it dredges up from his past and let his mood get dragged down too much, he instead goes out whenever the aurora isn't there or he feels confident enough to hide his little "condition" in search of people to help. It hadn't taken too long to notice that the voice speaks to all of them.

He patrols along the edge of the forest, near the basin, and the cliff's edge, keeping an eye out for anyone wandering around on their own. If he spots anyone who seems to be struggling, he approaches and calls out. ]

Hello! So sorry to bother you, could I ask you for a favor?

[bigbaddy]

[ Honestly, it's not even like Bigby is completely unused to the things the voice is telling him. It's things he's heard so often back home that it's almost predictable.

.. not that it makes it all that much easier to deal with. A little bit, perhaps, but considering how relatively miserable finding himself here and having to deal with the town for the past while has already been, the voice sure isn't making it any easier.

And of course Bigby of all people isn't going to deal with it by talking to someone. Healthy coping mechanisms? We don't know them here.

It makes it fairly easy for Vash to find the man sitting on a big rock at the edge of the forest, his face buried in his hands - though it rises out of them when Vash speaks up, Bigby turning his gaze up to look at the other.

Something about his expression is mostly sceptical, though there's some curiosity in it, too. ]

.. Yeah?

[ He doesn't exactly sound eager, but at least he's willing to listen for a second here. ]

[amo]

[ It's a familiar sight given that it's a position Vash has found himself in a fair few times, weathering an internal storm. It's enough to give him a sympathetic twinge and decide to approach the hunched figure he spots on the rock even if there's no immediate danger that needs prompt intervention. The man looks wary when he lifts his head and meets Vash's gaze, speaking in a tone to match, and that's to be expected, really. Who would want to be bothered by a stranger when there's likely a nasty voice in their head telling them in no uncertain terms they're unwanted and essentially better off dead.

Vash isn't deterred one bit though. He offers a smile, one he makes sure to be more on the sheepish side than his usual jovial ones. ]

Could I join you for a little bit? I'm not sure I quite trust myself to be on my own right now.

[ Not entirely true, but he's found that people are more likely to abide by a request for help than to just accept it. Vash glances up into the forest meaningfully — a place the voice seems eager to direct him to, maybe to succumb to the elements or become food for the wolves — and then back to the man, adding with more honesty: ]

And you look like you could use a distraction yourself.

[bigbaddy]

[ There's a slow exhale from the man - especially at that last part, no matter how on point Vash is with that observation - but then he does speak up with a: ]

Sure.

[ The other did have the right idea, after all. Most people - Bigby included - are more willing to accept this sort of thing when it isn't presented like just an offer of help. Just like Vash is doing right now.

The rock certainly is big enough for both of them to sit on too. Bigby doesn't even have to scoot over.

And if Vash does take a seat, then Bigby will even offer - after a moment of semi-awkward silence: ]

So I assume that means you're hearing it too.

[ Bigby was already thinking everyone was hearing it. Not that he has never experienced self-loathing before, but it's been particularly stronger all of a sudden. And when the entire place has suffered the wolf attacks, why wouldn't they also suddenly all be suffering psychological warfare at the same time?

It only makes sense. Very depressing sense, but sense all the same. ]

[amo]

[ The smile Vash offers upon the response isn't one of his usual too bright and cheery ones, but something more sincere; small and grateful, slightly wan. The acceptance of his request is a kindness, especially given the circumstances. ]

Thank you.

[ Vash moves to join Bigby on the rock, taking a seat without any hesitation whatsoever. He gently knocks some snow off his boots before drawing in his legs to sit cross-legged, clearly making himself comfortable. He's in no particular rush to speak — he's already imposing and sometimes just having someone else near is enough to help — but he's more than happy to talk when conversation is offered. ]

Yeah, seems like its really got it out for us "Interlopers".

[ He breathes out a put-upon sigh, shoulders sinking and lips pursing in a slightly exaggerated pout. As if strange lights and wolf attacks weren't enough to deal with on top of just surviving in this hostile, cold environment. ]

It's not very fair, huh? It's not like any of us asked to be brought here.

[bigbaddy]

Life isn't fair.

[ It's a bit more edgy of a thing than he'd usually say, but-- well, after having been dealing with this voice for a little while already now, Bigby's nerves are pretty frayed. It makes him even worse at this entire social thing than he usually is, the words slipping out before he's even really thought about them.

Even though he's been trying hard otherwise to instill a sense of practicality into the people of the town, not wanting them to fall into this kind of despair-- and now it seems like it's gotten him in the end.

And maybe this guy sitting here next to him too. ]

You can do everything right, and you still get treated like shit in the end. [ If there's anything he's ever learned in his life.. ] Nice things don't necessarily happen to nice people.

[amo]

[ He understands that all too well, if because of his own long-lived life with all his best intentions, then because of all the kind people he's seen suffer or perish undeservedly along the way. So Vash takes no offense to the words and seems pretty unfazed. If anything, the almost abrasive way of speaking reminds Vash of his closest lost friend; comfortable and dear in its familiarity. It's exactly the sort of thing Wolfwood would say and it brings a fond, aching pang to his heart. Countless nights spend out in the desert bickering over their ideals have become a thing sorely missed.

Vash tried to do everything right — even if he failed a lot of the time — and his body is littered with too many scars to count, largely inflicted by the humans he did his best to save, as a living testament of what Bigby is saying. (The voice tells him he deserved it. All of it. And maybe Vash believes it, but he has to carry on regardless.)

He hums an affirmative, placing his elbow on his knee to rest his chin on his hand, looking contemplative. ]

That's true, but it's no reason not to try your best and strive for nicer things. It also takes a lot more strength to remain kind in the face of adversity and unfair treatment, don't you think?

[bigbaddy]

[ There's something about what Vash is saying that's completely contradictory to what the voice in his own mind is saying. Bigby can hear it even now as he's sitting here, even as he's listening to Vash, like the voice is doing its best to try and drown out the other man's words.

What's the point in being kind? You've tried. Everyone still hated you. Still blamed you for everything.

.. Bigby takes a pack of cigarettes - a rapidly dwindling supply - out of his back pocket, putting one of them into his mouth before lighting it. ]

Have you ever managed to get any nicer thing actually done?

[ Surely the other must understand, if Vash is agreeing with him, saying it's true. Anyone who tries to do the nice thing knows just how much resistance you get at all times, just how hard people make it, even when you're trying to do something for their own good. ]

[amo]

[ The appearance of the pack of cigarettes catches his attention and holds it for a fraction longer than is normal, heart aching with remembrance at the familiar motions being performed as one cigarette is taken out and lit. What is louder than the foreign voice in his head saying already known things is his grief and in this moment it's steadying, something to hold on to and remind him that lost loved ones would not want him to listen and act on what that voice is trying to compel him to do. It hurts, but in a way that gives focus.

He forces his gaze away, giving another thoughtful hum as he stares off into the distance and nods. ]

When it mattered most, my efforts paid off in the end.

[ All of his little kindnesses accumulated to form a bridge between humankind and his own, allowing understanding between Plants and humans through their shared experience of meeting him during his many years of wandering the planet. The connections he'd forged had mattered and helped put a stop to his brother's crusade that would see humanity wiped out. It's all he could have asked for even if, in the end, he ended up the same as always: a hunted man with a bounty on his head, running on his own. ]

What's that one saying? Nothing that is truly worth doing is ever easy. I suppose I've found that to be quite true. [ He follows up the statement with a deep sigh, putting on more sheepish and put-upon airs as a way to lighten the mood. ] It would be nice if it was easy for a change though.

[bigbaddy]

Must be nice.

[ It's only after the words have already left Bigby's mouth that the man realises it's not exactly the kind thing to say here, especially with that sarcastic tone. And it's not as if Bigby is usually the most kind man around, but-- But even though hearing that from Vash did just make him feel worse - considering he doesn't feel at all like his own efforts panned out that way - it's not like the other is actively trying to be malicious to him.

It means he knows he shouldn't treat Vash that way. He doesn't take the words back directly. If anything, the other might see the realisation hit him a moment too late, Bigby bodily wincing before quickly taking another drag off his cigarette.

Instead he goes quiet for a moment until he speaks up again. ]

I did everything I could, and people still turned on me for it.

[ It's not really something he's confessed to anyone here. Not even as vaguely as he's doing right now.

But maybe he has to get it out here, or the voice is going to drive him insane with it if he holds it in forever. ]

I don't know why I still bother.

[amo]

[ The sarcastic response isn't very kind, but it's nothing that Vash isn't used to. He doesn't bat an eye at the tone, unbothered especially when he notices from the corner of his eye that it's followed by those little tells of regret even though no apology is voiced aloud. That reminds him — painfully and fondly — of Wolfwood, too. All he offers then is a hum of agreement. It had been nice even if, ultimately, it hadn't changed much for Vash himself and it's something he'd been coming to terms with, for better or for worse, before he got here. At least here he's no longer the most wanted outlaw on the planet, but the perpetual loneliness of being something Other remains.

He lets the silence fall for a moment, breathing in the secondhand smoke. Obviously, it's not like the brands from back home, but the smell of it is comforting in its general familiarity anyway. It's when the silence is broken again that Vash's full attention turns back to Bigby, attentive. ]

I know what that's like.

[ Whatever the other's circumstances might be, it's a simple understanding he can offer all the same. Rather than pry for details on what might have led to people to turn on Bigby despite Vash's inherent nosiness, he asks instead: ]

There must be something that keeps you going? Some outcome that you're hoping for despite it all?

[bigbaddy]

[ Bigby takes a slow drag of his cigarette, exhaling before he speaks up again.

(It's a good thing Vash doesn't mind the smoke, really. At least it doesn't hang too thickly around them since they're outside, but it's still definitely there in the air.) ]

That's..

[ It's tempting to lie. Bigby is never upfront about this stuff, after all, for an entire myriad of reasons. He's not even good at opening up about it, doesn't know how to do it even if he'd try.

On the other hand, there's still that annoying as hell voice in the back of his mind, and it almost feels like punishment for not being honest in the first place. So after a mental screw it, he speaks up, even if he's fumbling his way through words he usually never says. ]

I just want to keep people safe.

[ Isn't that it, nowadays? ]

And then I'm suddenly thrown into another place entirely where people are constantly in danger. Where we could all easily die if we ran out of food, or if it'd get even colder. [ He shakes his head, staring down at his cigarette, rather than sideways at the other. ] It's insane. Like being thrown into my own personal hell.

[amo]

[ Vash's lungs might not entirely agree, but the smoke wafting in the air remains a comfort. Although the familiar packet of cigarettes he arrived with is held on tightly as the only keepsake of Wolfwood he has, there's a reason he sometimes lights a cigarette in moments of weakness even though he doesn't smoke himself. (Sometimes he'll try and the burn in his throat and lungs can be worth it for the distraction alone.)

Vash is patient as he waits for Bigby to get the words out, giving him the space to either formulate them or to back out of whatever he intends to say without any pressure given either way. Opening up to a complete stranger might sometimes be easier than confiding in someone known, but that doesn't make the act itself easy. He's met plenty of people in his long-life to have learned that.

His eyes widen briefly in surprise at the eventual response before his expression goes soft all over while the other man stares down at his cigarette. It's yet another reminder of a lost friend with similar values and also a case for what makes Vash believe in others so wholeheartedly, bringing him a pang of fondness. ]

This place certainly makes that a lot harder. [ To put it mildly. ] But you're not alone in your desire to protect people, you don't have to do it alone.

[ Thinking he'd had to go at it alone had already been a dear friend's downfall, if Vash can prevent that from happening to anyone else then that's enough for him to keep going too regardless of what the voice might claim. ]

I'm sure if we all work together, it'll at least be a little bit easier.

[bigbaddy]

[ This time he actually looks over at Vash, rather than staring at absolutely anything else - out into the distance, down at his hands, at his cigarette.

Bigby doesn't fully meet the other's gaze, but at least he is still looking at Vash. There's something in his gaze like he's observing the other, or maybe trying to learn something just by looking at Vash.

When he exhales a puff of smoke, he's looking ahead again, out into the distance. ]

You think that's going to happen? [ Bigby's tone is a little more neutral than it'd usually be while asking something like that, but the cynicism manages to crawl in right at the end, slowly dragging the tone down all the same. ] Everyone here working together?

[amo]

[ His gaze isn't fully met, but Vash offers a small smile all the same; expression calm and steady in spite of the turmoil that brews underneath his careful composure. The cynicism that sneaks into the other man's voice is old familiarity to Vash if nothing else. It's the sort of tone most people back on No Man's Land would come to adopt in time after years of hardships and struggling to survive.

There are some things Vash could say that most would think of as "idealistic nonsense", but there's a much more realistic answer that he can offer and so, considering his audience, he does. ]

We don't have much of a choice, do we? Surviving in conditions like these is hard enough, but with something out there determined to get rid of us, staying and working together makes the most sense, no?

[ And if there's anything he's learned from years of wandering the desert wasteland of a planet that he called home and being there from the very start as humanity tried to create some semblance of civilization, it's the following: ]

People tend to flock together, especially so in harsh environments. If nothing else, there's safety in numbers.

cw: mention in narration of a severed head

[bigbaddy]

.. yeah. Not that that's always a good thing.

[ It sounds very much like his own experience back home, after all. All of them fleeing from the Homelands, only to find themselves living together on such a small piece of land in New York City just to be able to stick together. There is safety in that, sure, since everyone was able to keep an eye on everyone else way more easily that way, but.. ]

It can also cause infighting.

[ That's what the problem often was in Fabletown, right? Despite the external threats, it was always Fables causing trouble for each other.

Maybe that's why Bigby is so worried about this place. It feels too similar. Before you know it there's another cut off head on someone's doorstep.

He sighs, removing the cigarette from his mouth and holding it in front of him between his fingers. ]

Or maybe I'm just being a pessimistic piece of shit compared to you.

[ That's what the voice is telling him, anyway. And he doesn't even disagree. Vash seems so.. positive about all of this.

Bigby can't even imagine what it'd be like to be able to think that way naturally. ]

[amo]

[ It's true, not only the voice will tell him but that of his childhood self and his brother's too, all humans do is fight. When they should be banding together to survive, they will find ways to turn on one another, to cause conflict at the most inopportune times and make things even harder for themselves. It happened on No Man's Land where the unforgiving desert environment should have been struggle enough and it's not a stretch of the imagination at all to think it might happen here. It's a realistic concern and he can't fault the other man for it.

He only lets his gaze catch and linger on the cigarette with a hint of wistful mourning for the briefest of moments before he shakes his head and smiles wryly. ]

No, not at all. You're not wrong to worry. People will be people.

[ But... ]

That doesn't mean we can't believe and strive for better. So long as people live, differences can be worked through and fighting can be stopped. Where there's life, there's hope, isn't there? Yes, things can get worse, but they can always get better, too.

[bigbaddy]

[ Bigby exhales a puff of smoke. ]

Saying that kind of shit in these circumstances.

[ Just going by the words alone, it might seem like an insult - but there's something a little different behind it, tone-wise. Bigby doesn't sound angry, nor does he sound like he's trying to insult the other.

Especially since the last word of that sentence trails right off into the start of the next one. ]

Don't know where you get the energy.

[ See, rather than an insult.. Maybe it's something a little more admirable. Maybe Bigby wishes he could see the world like that too, but he's been confronted so many times by its ugliness. It's not enough to fully stop him, not as long as there are still a few good parts to protect, but-- it'd sure be easier if those few good things weren't constantly threatened by the bad. ]

I just feel so tired.

[ That's right, the voice says. Haven't you felt tired for so long? Isn't it so hard, holding it all in all the time? ]

And I miss--

[ He presses his lips tightly together, swallowing a word before it can spill out over his lips.

He can't even say her name. ]

--someone.

[amo]

[ His heart hurts with how familiar the almost-grouse is and yet he can't help but let the corners of his mouth lift into something less wry, more genuine. Perhaps under different circumstances, he might have laughed, proved the energy comment right by being all the more boisterous, but he's not feeling quite up to it. ]

I've had a lot of practice, that's all.

[ After over a century and a half, time has been on his side in that department. It's one of the few ways his long lifespan has benefited him. He has time. Or had, at least. It's hard to say how much he has left now, depleted of his powers as he is, his hair stained black with the decay.

His gaze remains on Bigby when the other man admits to being tired. It's enough to have his heart squeeze with empathy. For all that his demeanor currently makes it seem otherwise, Vash understands all too well what that kind of exhaustion feels like. It's there every day. Although what rings even more familiar is the confession that follows. ]

Me too.

[ He admits quietly — to both the tiredness and the longing for someone not around — as he drops his gaze, expression going unreadable for a moment. He hasn't been able to talk about his loss since it happened over half a year ago. He's not sure if he ever can.

But that doesn't mean it's the same for others or that it's even the same kind of loss. When he glances back, it's with quiet understanding. ]

Would it help to talk about them?

[bigbaddy]

[ Usually that'd be a very, very quick no.

Bigby doesn't think it'll help. He thinks it'll just hurt more. And even if he thought it'd help, who would he even talk to about it? Especially when most of the town still feels like a total stranger to him, when he - once more - has no one to lean on, just when he thought he was establishing something for himself back home, even just a little bit.

But there's something about the way Vash speaks up. About the way he just says those two words, so quiet. Me too.

Bigby sucks in a breath, squeezes his cigarette, and then speaks. ]

Her name's Snow.

[ Whatever. It's not going to matter anyway, right? She's not here. None of the Fables are. ]

She's-- well, I don't even know how to describe her. She's just great. I just.. [ .. his tone trails off, not quite finishing that statement, like it's just a little too much for Bigby, like it might go just a touch too far.

Instead he shakes his head and replaces it with: ]

You ever felt like no one gives a shit about whether you're even alive or not? Whether you're okay? She was the first one who made me feel like someone did care.

[amo]

[ Vash is more or less expecting to get a no, to have the question brushed off and the subject quickly changed. It's what he would be apt to do himself and so he can't exactly fault anyone else if they were to do the same. Sometimes it's simply too hard to speak of lost loved ones or those the heart yearns to see again but can't for whatever reason. Talking about them could help if only to share their light or keep a memory alive, but it can also hurt. A double edged blade, as it were.

It's a pleasant surprise then when he gets an actual response. Vash listens attentively — heart already warmed and aching with sympathy in equal measure by what he can gleam from the fumbling words alone. He's always been a sucker for love even if it's something he denies himself; seeing other people together is enough.

The questions are met with a nod and affirming noise because that, too, does Vash understand. As much as he gives and gives and never expects anything in return, endures any pain inflicted upon him with a smile, there had been someone who cared enough to risk his very life for Vash and ease his suffering. It's what makes the loss all the more bitter. ]

She sounds very lovely and she must care a lot about you, too. I hope you'll get to see her again.

[ It sounds like a separation rather than a loss, so there's still hope there. ]

Ah, but probably preferably not here.

[ This place would put a damper on any joyous reunion. Better for it to be back home. If they can just be pulled here, it stands to reason they might be able to get send back as well. ]

[bigbaddy]

[ Preferably not here sure is a whole mood there, Vash. As much as Bigby would love to see her again, as much as he actually finds himself feeling very lonely here without her, especially with how bad he is at actually making friends or even just friendly connections-- he still wouldn't want Snow to be trapped in this place. It's too awful for her. She deserves better.

He almost voices that last sentiment, but then there's another thought that enters Bigby's mind enough for him to voice it. ]

You think we'll get out of here?

[ That's the vague implication in Vash's words, isn't it? ]

[amo]

[ Vash smiles, the quirk of his lips sincere. If nothing else, perhaps this can be the thing to provide some much needed hope and comfort in their current bleak situation. The voice likes to claim that the only relief can be found in eternal slumber, that the embrace of the Long Dark is the only way out of here, the one sure road to a(n eventual) reunion with those the heart longs for. Vash refuses to believe it.

Life, above all else, is hope. It has to be. ]

If something took us here, there's gotta be a way back, right? If we can discover how we were brought to this place then we can use that to get home again.

[ Perhaps it's wishful thinking fueled by a relentless positive attitude that's been deliberately cultivated over many years, but there's a logic to it that can't be denied. ]

Or we make our own way.

[ As the old adage goes, where there is a will, there is a way. ]

[bigbaddy]

.. I've been trying.

[ At least Bigby can admit to that. Not that it's embarrassing in any way to admit - that's not what holds him back from it, unlike the stuff about Snow from a moment ago - but it's harder to admit when a voice in your head is telling you the exact opposite of it.

But deep down, he knows this much is true. He has been trying. Even if he hasn't managed to get anything done so far, it hasn't been due to a lack of effort. ]

To find a way out, I mean. Make a way out. Whatever. I have to go back.

[ He pauses, exhales, and then actually looks over at the other. ]

You too, right?

[ Don't they all have to go back? Surely they all have something waiting for them that they can't ignore. Like Bigby has Snow - like Bigby has his duty. Only god knows what Fabletown is turning into back home without him around. ]

[amo]

[ Hearing that makes him smile with some fond pride for the indomitable spirit that people have. Trying is the first step and for some that alone can be too big of one to take. Especially here, where just merely surviving takes so much effort, no one could be faulted for being too preoccupied to find a way back when such a thing seems impossible. They have no clues, nothing to really go off of that might help show the way, yet here at least someone else is also trying.

Vash is nodding along in agreement up until the attention is redirected to him and he falters. He could say yes, he has to go back at all costs too. Only that wouldn't quite be the truth. It probably says a lot about how much the voice has whittled away at him that, despite his demeanor and positive words, for once he can't bring himself to lie when doing so is second nature.

Rather, he looks away and draws his legs up onto the rock where he can wrap his arms around them in a subconscious self-soothing posture. His voice is quiet when he spills an admittance. ]

I suppose it doesn't matter much for me either way.

[ There are familiar faces he would love to see again, of course, but there's nothing he absolutely has to get back to. Not anymore. What he wants most is out of his reach no matter where he is.

Although to show that it doesn't affect his resolve, he glances back with a rueful little smile to add: ]

But I'd like to help people get home, if I can.