there'll be oats in the water

[singmod]

JULY 2024 EVENT

PROMPT ONE — THE AURORA: REDUX: A storm finally arrives, and with it — Enola extends her hand to help the Interlopers once more, granting them new abilities.

PROMPT TWO — PENSIVE LOOKOUT: With the Forest Talker efforts focused on sabotaging hunting efforts, Interlopers can attempt to explore the Pensive Lookout Tower, where they can uncover secrets from the diary of Sam Bouchard — the former firewatch worker of the summer of 2014.

PROMPT THREE — A PEEK INSIDE: A group of Interlopers get their hands on one of the Forest Talkers in search of answers — and get a little more than they bargained for.

THE AURORA: REDUX

WHEN: Mid-month, for three days.
WHERE: Everywhere.
CONTENT WARNINGS: supernatural/extreme weather; lightning storms; potentially disturbing dreams; dreams of being trapped in ice; dreams of animal death; dreams of the death of loved ones.


July brings warmer weather. The fog has lifted, and the daylight returned — but an odd kind of pressure lingers in the air, the kind that feels similar with oncoming storms but something still feels off about it all. Measurements and readings are erratic, with them often making little sense. It’s hard to predict just what might be coming, but sure enough something is coming.

Hold on a little longer, Enola told you. A storm is coming.

It comes quickly, the gathering of storm clouds. At first, it looks as if a kind of snowstorm is moving in, but there’s something else at play here. Within the grey, cloudy skies, there is a tell-tale sound of an Aurora mixed within those clouds.

And with it, in amongst the dark, the swirling colours. Greens, pinks and purples weaving through the clouds, almost mesmerising to watch. The air is alive with sound: static noise, cracks and pops: a storm and the Aurora mixed into one. For those who’ve been here long enough, it’s a worrying, unnerving sight. The storm rumbles with the low roar of distant thunder, growing ever closer. The electronics of the world begin to come alive, and in the static of it all — you begin to hear Enola’s voice even clearer than before.

After so much darkness, now there is so much light. A lightning storm — aurora colours mingling with the grey clouds, punctured with crackles of lightning. Something powerful and strange — flash forking across the skies, followed by booms of thunder.

The storm lasts three days, and even though her voice is soft — you hear it over all the noise, nestled gently in your ear.

“You're still here. It means something. This isn’t the end, I refuse to let it be the end. It can’t win. You won’t go into the Dark.” Enola tells you. ”I will make you more than what you are, more than what was stolen from you. This place will not be your end. I have to try. We have to try. Together. I showed some of you, once. I’ll show you again.”

She tells you to sleep. For some, they recognise this and realise what may end up happening. For others it feels like going out on a limb. But you sleep, and perhaps a dream may come to you.

COLD FUSION: The colours of the Aurora dance around you in your dreamscape. You dream of a great hall of ice: as if it had been carved into some great ridge of it. You walk through it, marvelling at the beauty of it — a blue gloom, echoing with each of your footsteps. But as you take one particular step, the ground cracks and collapses beneath you, sending you into dark, frozen waters. In seconds, the water freezes around you, encompassing you in thick ice, your entire body trapped within it. The coldness burns you, and you are stuck there — frozen in agony. The pain is immeasurable, your entire body crushed and searing from the ice. There is no escape, no reprieve.

A voice speaks to you, perhaps it is the voice of a stranger, perhaps it is the voice of someone you know: Do you know how you survive the cold?’ They ask you. You do not know, and you wait for the answer: ‘You become colder than it.

Your eyes close. You believe those words, you do. You must become colder than the cold itself. And so you will. Your breathing slows, your heart slows and the cold… it stops hurting, it doesn’t burn. The ice around you begins the crack.

When you awaken the first thing you realise is despite the temperature, you are completely cosy and warmed. You do not feel the slightest chill. It is perhaps only once you are around other than you truly notice the difference to you — you are cold to the touch, lacking the heat you once had. An understanding comes: you are at one with the cold, it will not beat you, it will not cause you agony. Winter is at peace within you: perfect Cold Fusion.

MOON TOUCHED: The colours of the Aurora dance around you in your dreamscape. You dream of running through the silent woods at night. The moon is full above you, the air is calm and still. Hunger draws you forward, everything is so sharp and vivid in your senses, even in this dreamscape. You hear the crispness of the snow beneath your feet, smell the scent of the pines on the air, feel how warm you are against the coldness around you.

The snuffling of a rabbit catches your attention, and you swiftly leap after it, jaws opening and closing around its neck as you capture it. You bite down hard, feeling the crunch of its bones as they break, the sweet coppery taste of blood filling your mouth and nose. You lift your head towards the stars, blood on your tongue. You realise you are not a person at all, but a beast on all fours: a wolf, content and filling your belly with meat.

You wonder, for a brief moment: were you ever a person at all?

You do not know the answer to the question. You do not seem to worry about such a thing but there’s a flash of warning on the air. Something you cannot quite place, but you know that you should not forget it.

When you awaken, you feel… different, somehow. Everything seems a little sharper, as if the world around you had been dull, or behind some pane of frosted glass. With it comes a strange balance of calmness and chaos, tameness and wildness, fear and bravery. You find yourself looking for the moon in the skies and when you finally find it, it hits you — this is what it means to be Moon Touched.

INTERLOPER’S SACRIFICE: The colours of the Aurora dance around you in your dreamscape and then fade into nothing. You dream of kneeling in a darkened, charred wood. You are not alone. In this dreamscape, you dream of a loss, or a time you have never felt more helpless in your life. Perhaps it is when someone you knew died before you, or you stood as someone was sick and injured and you were unable to do a thing. As you kneel, they are there with you: sick or dying or even dead in your arms. You cannot do anything but hold them, and the helplessness is overwhelming.

You look up and a woman in furs stands before you, her expression solemn. Enola herself. There are tears in her eyes, as if she shares the very pain you do: the loss, the grief, the hopelessness, the powerlessness. She approaches you and lowers herself to kneel in front of you and your companion, bracing your shoulders for a long, lingering moment. There are no words, none from neither of you.

Enola shifts slightly, leans forwards. She kisses your forehead, much like when a parent kisses their child: sweet and tender.

And then you feel it, as if you are set alight: an agonising pain that encompasses you whole — so painful you cannot even open your mouth to scream. You feel yourself growing weak, the corners of your vision blurring into black. It feels as if you might die from the pain, and you want for it to stop but it doesn’t.

Enola pulls away and you gasp, slumping in exhaustion, but still alive, somehow. You stare at her, sweating and clamouring for breath, and she offers you a sad smile. Never again. you feel the words inside of you. This time, it will be different. Better.

When you awaken, you can still feel the kiss upon your forehead — enough to make your fingers reach up to touch it, your entire body tingling a little. A small voice in the back of your mind whispers, reminding you as you find yourself looking down at your hands: never again. Never again, you tell yourself and the comprehension comes to you: you have chosen. This is what it means to be: this is your sacrifice. The Interloper’s Sacrifice.

NOTHING: The colours of the Aurora dance around you in your dreamscape, but only for a moment. The edges of your vision begin the blur with black, slowly closing in until everything goes dark and you fall into a deep, dreamless sleep. You awaken, and although you feel rested, as if the dreamless darkness has helped you feel a little more ready to take on the day — nothing else about you has changed.

PENSIVE LOOKOUT

WHEN: The month of July.
WHERE: Pensive Lookout Tower, Lakeside.
CONTENT WARNINGS: themes of survival; possible fall injuries/treacherous climbs; themes of terror; themes of diminished sanity; themes of starvation.

The Old Hunting Lodge is located in the southern-most area of Lakeside, and its surrounding area is generally considered no-go territory with the presence of the Forest Talkers. As June turned into July, the Forest Talker’s presence in the wilds of Lakeside has begun to grow again — but their efforts appear to be focused on sabotaging the efforts of Interlopers, Methuselah and Young Bill in hunting fresh game. If anything, it could mean that with attentions drawn away — perhaps the braver sorts of the Interlopers can explore the area a little more fully.

There’s little in terms of buildings of interest in this area. The wilderness is thick and deep here. Perhaps the odd ransacked cabin once belonging to a local may be stumbled across — its contents picked clean, presumably by the Forest Talkers. Many of these buildings will be completely inhabitable due to the damage done — with some cabins being razed to the ground.

However, on higher ground, with a good hike to access it, stands a watch tower.

These lookout towers could mean a number of things: a chance to access supplies that may have otherwise been forgotten about due to the hike to get up there, a better view of the surrounding area, and the possibility of a radio — given the sign of a radio transmitter that can be found blinking a feeble red on Aurora nights.

With the snow on the ground it’s a little more treacherous, but given the circumstances, anything’s worth a shot, right? Those who attempt the hike may fall foul to slips and trips along the steep slow to reach the tower, and should take care in the ascent. Even with the warmth of July, it’s difficult. One might hope this might make the place a decent outpost, if you think about it. Somewhere hard to reach, and with such a vantage point.

Reaching the tower and climbing it to its interior will it largely intact but a mess. Someone has lived here for some time. Interlopers will find no food here, but some useful tools that belonged to the lookout: binoculars, maps, a compass, an alidade. There is even a radio sat upon a desk, and with it — a journal.

The journal, Interlopers will find, belonged to a man named Sam Bouchard — the firewatcher for the season during the previous year, detailing the months of his arrival and ending in November last year. It is unknown what happened to Sam, but his journal will perhaps offer some insight and even some information.

A PEEK INSIDE

WHEN: The month of July.
WHERE: The Gas Station, Milton.
CONTENT WARNINGS: themes of kidnapping; imprisonment; self-starvation; blood/minor injuries; psychological torment, supernatural abilities.

The Forest Talkers have a long history in the Northern Territories, long before Interlopers started arriving in Milton. Champions of nature, they have sought to put an end to the industries and tourism-related expansions in the Lakeside area, first peacefully and then… not-so-peacefully. But with the events known as the ‘The Flare’ last year, Forest Talkers have been… acting peculiarly, disturbingly, aggressively.

There are plenty of questions to be asked. But the Forest Talkers are difficult to communicate with. Previous attempts have ended up in aggression or being ignored entirely. And now, even with the events of the previous month coming to an end — game remains difficult to find, and Forest Talkers are keen on sabotaging any attempts of hunting made by Interlopers, Young Bill or Methuselah. And more importantly: what is the yawning grave?

It starts as mutterings between tired and disgruntled Interlopers. They need answers, and there’s got to be a way in trying to get some. They’re hungry and exhausted and so many of their numbers are now dead. Those mutterings grow, and soon enough a plan is put into place. A small group of Interlopers embark into Lakeside and wait.

Soon enough, it bears fruit. A man is captured, bound and blindfolded — quietly and secretly brought back to Milton to be held up in the unused Gas Station to be questioned. It is not the leader, but surely one of them is better than no one at all. He is injured, but not enough to kill him. It will prove challenging in trying to get answers out of him, but soon enough the Interlopers will get him to talk.

News of the Forest Talker in their midst will inevitably spread, as most things do in small communities. Secrets are hard to guard. It won’t be just those behind the kidnapping who might end up coming across the man being held in the Gas Station.

Anyone who goes to investigate will find the man sat on the floor in quiet contemplation. Attempts of conversation will be met with long, silent stares — holding your gaze for an uncomfortably long time. He will spurn any gestures of kindness: spit on the floor at Interloper’s feet, refuse any food offered — as if the man has chosen to starve himself in protest. He says nothing, at first.

But after some time, he will look into an Interloper’s eyes and utter something. A word. A phrase. It may be a name, or a place. It may be a specific thing an Interloper has read, or been spoken to by someone. Something that holds meaning to the Interloper. It may be the name of a loved one from home, or the last words ever spoken to you by a friend. Something the man shouldn’t know.

Whatever it is that he speaks to you, it is not something that will fill you with hope or fondness to remember — but quite the opposite. A reminder of something painful, of a loss, or some other thing that caused you misery. As if he had reached right inside your mind and plucked some painful part of your past from you and spoken it to the wind.

The Forest Talker smiles, and will say nothing else. The damage has already been done.

FAQs

THE AURORA: REDUX

1. The next three Aurora Feats are unlocked! Please see the following page for more information.

2. Aurora Feats are completely optional.

3. Interlopers will only receive ONE Aurora Feat. The only time this is available is this month. After July, players will have to wait for the next Feat round for another chance at an Aurora Feat.

4. This Aurora/storm will last a full three days, darkening the skies almost to night.

PENSIVE LOOKOUT

1. Interlopers who dwell in the lookout for the next Aurora will find the radio works, albeit poorly. They will be able to pick up the same broken morse code message.

2. There are no signs of blood/injury that befell Sam in the lookout. It appears he made good on what he wrote on in his journal and attempted to leave to get to Silverpoint.

A PEEK INSIDE

1. While only a small number was involved in the kidnapping itself, anyone can discover the fact there's a Forest Talker being held in Milton.

2. In terms of appearance, the Forest Talker is very much your typical average white guy. Bearded, weathered by the cold, someone who's lived several years without much in the way of comforts or luxuries.

PLOTTING POST

Comments

Konstantin Veshnyakov 🛰️ Sputnik

[sputnik]

CLOSED STARTERS

🛰️ — PLOTTING POST

— Svetlana Nazarova.

[sputnik]

It's been almost a month since Konstantin made his way towards town, largely staying holed-up in the isolated little cabin he shares with Vasiliy on the outskirts. Things have been... bad, really, really bad — with the shortage of wildlife to keep the thing inside of him fed and satisfied, he's been terrified of the outcome he's always felt looming.

But the sun shines again, the green gloom lifts, and maybe that means things will be back to normal — whatever "normal" means in this place. Finally, Konstantin's willingly trekking back out, taking a little walk up to town. There's a pack slung over one arm with a few supplies, including a tumbler filled with grouse blood... just in case the thing gets restless while he's away from home.

There are people he wants to check in with, people he's been worried about, and one of them at the top of his list is Svetlana. So he makes his way to her home, rapping his knuckles against her door and calling out to let her know who it is, just in case. He doesn't know everything that's gone down lately, but a little bit of gossip has floated his way, at least. It seems like things have been bad for everybody. Someone might be wary to open the door without knowing who's on the other side.

"Sveta? It's Kostya, are you in?"

[balancedlight]

She is still quick to open the door, still quick to answer the call for the doctor. No matter what's happened in town, she will always be available and maybe, despite her reservations, she will be able to trust again.

"Ah! Kostya, come inside." She steps back, smiling as she pushes the door open. "How are you feeling?"

[sputnik]

Konstantin brightens at the sight of her — is it too bold to consider Svetlana a friend? She's certainly something special to him, considering all that she's already done for him, and their exchange of secrets. And with everything that's happened... it's good to see she seems safe, at least in the immediate moment.

"Much better, now that I get to see such a beautiful face as yours, again!"

It's said more warmly than anything, a smile aimed her way as he steps inside and slides politely out of his shoes, unable to shed certain norms.

"I wanted to check in to see how you're doing. Times have been... very strange."

[balancedlight]

She blushes, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear, still very susceptible to compliments from handsome men, even if she isn't at all interested in anything else. It's such a silly check of normlacy.

"They have been," she agrees. "But I have been intentionally taking breaks for myself."

[sputnik]

Ironically, it's very much a silly check of normalcy for Konstantin, too. Some way to feel... like things are okay, to revert back to who he used to be. A charming man, not... what he's become now. Someone who has to carry blood with him when he leaves his home. Someone who hopes it'll be enough.

But his smile is genuine as he turns to the young woman, looking her over. He's already seen evidence of... what went wrong last month, in others. People hurt, afraid, still traumatised in ways from it all. His voice softens.

"Have you been... treating a lot of people? People who were hurt by what happened? I heard that things got pretty rough. Vasya and I stayed inside through most of it."

[balancedlight]

She sobers a little, wandering to her kitchen to take out some salted fish in a bowl with a few greens to offer to Kostya. Like her mother, like everyone she knows, she always has something to offer a guest.

"I was. I don't think I slept for two days. Doctor Goodsir was a help, but it was mostly emergencies after everyone harmed each other."

She brings the bowls to the little table and gestures for him to join her.

— The Doctor. (cw: brief, nondescriptive mention of suicide)

[sputnik]

[ It's with no small amount of guilt that Konstantin finally returns to town after several weeks — nearly a month — holed up on the outskirts away from it. Realistically, logically, he knows it's been necessary. The increasing scarcity of wildlife was... dangerous, especially dangerous, for someone like him. (Something like him, his mind tries to insist, even as he reminds himself that he isn't the one that needs fresh living bleeding things to survive, he's just the means to feed what does. He's not the monster.)

But it's difficult not to think that way when the concern rises — that if he can't find animals to feed to the alien, it'll have to feed from people. Humans are its preference anyway; perhaps it was only ever a matter of time before such an outcome happened.

Then there's been all the... aggression. Though he and Vasiliy stayed far away from it, remnants of it still found its way to them, as much as any gossip about it — people became hostile, hurt one another. Some people were even killed. Apparently there was an entire town meeting held about it. That, too, was especially dangerous for someone like Konstantin; the alien entity is so sensitive to energy, to fluctuations in hormones. Such aggression could stimulate it into something equally aggressive. It was better, in all regards, that he kept himself away from everyone else.

But guilt persists, because he hears how people were hurt, and the town suffered, and he should have been there to help. Back home, he has a title, one of the most esteemed that any man where he's from can hold. A Hero, they call him. Hero of the Soviet Union. He's been awarded a medal. His name has already been printed in books. And when the military and the scientists tell the world that he succumbed to his wounds and died in that facility (a lie; he died outside of it, by his own hand), he will be mourned across the country.

It means nothing, here. He's... nothing. He can't save anyone, or truly help them. And he's so weak now, with this unwanted entity within him, keeping him sick. Even the walk into town is a particular exertion that the athletic cosmonaut commander can never get used to. He has to take breaks, find his breath, lean over in fits of nausea. But he has, at least, brought some preparations with him. In his pack is a small non-electric heating pad and a tumbler filled with grouse blood; both things are for the creature's sake, if needed.

He visits the community hall for a good while, finds a few familiar faces and learns whatever news he can about what's been going on. At some point, he makes his way over to the little library to poke around. It's not that he expects there to be any new books in stock... but it's been awhile since he browsed them, and he's always curious to see what he might be able to pick up, maybe bring something interesting back to Vasiliy.

He's used to it being pretty sparse with customers, and he isn't paying too much attention to if anyone else comes in — when he turns a corner and almost bumps into someone, he's startling. A book or two tumbles out of his hands and hits the wooden floorboards with a thud. ]

Oh—! I'm sorry.

[ He offers a friendly, bright smile, although it lacks any ounce of recognition. He has no idea that this man knows him; the fit happened so quickly, stealing any ability to make sense of the person who'd tried to initially help him through it. As far as he knows, the man is a stranger, and he chuckles as he starts crouching down to retrieve the items, pushing his shoulder bag towards his back so he can use his arms. ]

I never used to be this clumsy. I must be getting old!

[thedreamer]

Sorry — you? No, no, no, please be the opposite of that, in fact. Apologies on no account. I'm so glad you bumped into me, in fact, I've worried!

[ It's the Doctor's instinct to start crouching down to help retrieve the books, handing one of them over. And then he smiles before standing up straight again, adjusting his bowtie that's very obviously seen better days. ]

How are you feeling? How have you been feeling, rather? I should have fussed after you before now, so I'm sorry.

[ He's too grateful to see the other man on his feet and not suffering as he had been, enough that his already hurried thoughts get far too ahead of him and he's neglected to consider that the man before him would have had no awareness of meeting him before. It will come to him...any moment now...surely.

But, not before he causes more confusion. That's rather his modus operandi.

At least he has sense enough to have spared the other man from immediately attempting to hug him — something he's generally compelled to do when he's run into anyone he might have felt any sense of responsibility and care for, and whose presence is reassuring. ]

[sputnik]

[ The reaction registers as strange within the first few seconds — he's been... worried? Something in Konstantin pauses, uncertain, though on the surface he remains cheerful, smiling, good-natured. He stands up straight as well, posture confident as always, reaching for the book to tuck it with the rest held in his arms. There's a polite nod of thanks, but that odd something only grows more odd as the other man continues speaking.

Has... he met him before? No, he's certain not. He'd remember if he had — Konstantin doesn't forget a face. Especially not here, where he's been making sure to remember the people of this little town, keeping mental tabs on them all.

Suspicion flares in him, though he doesn't let it show in his features; the cosmonaut has long-been conditioned in the fine art of maintaining pleasantries in the face of uncertainty. But it's the kneejerk sensation, something prickling uncomfortably at the base of his spine. Maybe it's unwarranted, maybe this man has... seen him being ill — he tries to conceal his bad episodes, but they still happen publicly, at times. (Granted, he has no idea the severity of some of those episodes...)

In any case, he won't dare let himself be anything but polite and presentable, and his smile only brightens, as though there's something humourous to all of it. ]

I'm sorry — have we met before? Maybe I'm getting even older than I originally thought.

[ ...There's something else. A fear he hasn't been able to look too closely at, one that thinks the long-term presence of this creature coiled in his body might affect his mind too, someday. Maybe he starts forgetting things, losing his mental fortitude. ]

[thedreamer]

[ As clueless as the Doctor can often be, as much as he might at times fumble his way around social etiquette, he has spent enough time amongst others to at least be able to — eventually — clue in when he's personally said something a bit disconcerting, to say the least. He senses no unease, of course, in the other man, he reads that smile for what it seems to be, but his own mind catches up now and he winces a little at himself. ]

Oh, yes! Sorry, sorry — you were quite unwell at the time, of course you wouldn't remember. [ Under his breath for a moment, he admonishes himself — ] Silly Doctor.

[ Some of the abundant energy in him calms a bit and he softens as he attempts to better explain — ]

A bit back, there was that sickness from the fog going around. I was passing through where you'd taken shelter and you'd collapsed. You weren't in any condition to be alone or rather, you actually weren't alone for very long at all.

[ He wouldn't normally take such great care with his words when he makes mention of the creature, but he's aware they're in a public space, this man doesn't know him at all, and the creature he possesses likely isn't a source of great comfort to this man. So, his voice lowers. ]

Your — [ He makes a gesture to his lower throat for a moment, as if that explains everything. ] — companion, that is. Came out to say hello. Sorry, my manners — I'm the Doctor. [ He will offer his hand to shake, an easy smile on his own face. Attempting to set him at ease if at all possible. ]

[sputnik]

[ Quite unwell, to a degree he wouldn't remember — it makes that uneasy sensation constrict more tightly within him. Doctor, the man seems to refer to himself to. So he's a— a doctor. One Konstantin hasn't personally met (at least, not to where he can remember), but he does know that there are a few of them here. Apart from Svetlana, he's kept an intentional distance, wary to get too close, although knowing that he probably should seek more help in such ways.

The cosmonaut listens with full attention as the other man explains — it's familiar, at first; he remembers the fog, trying to avoid it, feeling sick(er) sometimes, but then—

His companion. He blinks in bewilderment, some of that surface-level calm he's able to maintain abruptly faltering in a rare moment of genuine startle. The gesture to his throat — 'came out to say hello'.

The creature. This man.... he encountered it? Just like that? That news enough is an immense shock (the thing's never exited him in the middle of town, and certainly never in daytime. What... why would it do that?)

And this man's reaction is... bizarre, to say the least. There's no hint of fear, disgust, not even much surprise at all. He speaks about it as though Konstantin's pet dog got away from him for a little while and was found down the road.

He casts wide eyes down to that offered hand, even more baffling to see. Almost mindlessly, Konstantin slowly reaches out to accept the shake, staring down at their joined hands for a moment before he looks back up to the stranger. Then— glances quickly around to make sure they're alone, but he's still not sure, and urges the man to come with him, quickly ushering him along to the far end of the little makeshift library. ]

You mean to tell me you saw..... the thing that came out of my body? The alien?

[ His voice is a hushed whisper, some mix of horrified and utterly taken aback. There are a million questions racing through his head, and he hardly even knows where to begin. ]

Did it... try to hurt you...?

[thedreamer]

[ It wouldn't be the first time — and certainly won't be the last — that anyone's looked at him like he's just uttered the most bizarre string of words they've ever heard. To him, it's perfectly normal, to everyone else —

Right. Yes. He does, at least, clue in. He's not so far into his own frenetic mind that he can't pick up on social cues, though admittedly, he's almost certainly always lagging behind most normal people in that regard. But he's not most, of course.

Quick to follow to the back of the library, the urgency in the other man's movements also serves to demonstrate perhaps the Doctor's blithe manner about the whole incident is not only strange but off-putting. He understands, at least, that it wouldn't be a comfortable thing for anyone, to be forced to live with an entity like that. Some species naturally share symbiotic connections with others, some may even choose it. This, though — no, it was clear from the start this is a parasite and host situation. He, of course, wants to know all he can because he thinks he can help. To honor the deep concern, and perhaps paranoia (understandable if so) this man is obviously feeling, the Doctor's voice drops in volume and he leans in a bit so they can't be easily overheard. And he shakes his head, resting his hands lightly on his hips. ]

Not at all, in fact we — well, I can't say with absolute certainty, but I believe we've established something of a rapport. It at least didn't seem to think ill of me, it was curious. It nudged itself under my sleeve to explore a bit. Used to a human body, it was probably intrigued by the differences.

[ He'll be quick to explain this. For him, at least, even if not many people know this about him, the Doctor doesn't have anything to hide about the fact that he's not entirely human. It's simply a fact of his nature. But as quick as he thinks it, the way that the entity might need to be kept more hush makes logical sense to him. ]

You see, I'm not human myself. I'm a Time Lord, more specifically. From Gallifrey. Humans look like Time Lords and vice versa, but Time Lords came first quite long ago. Physiologically speaking, we have many similarities, but notable differences. A venn diagram, of sorts. Namely, I have two hearts where you lot have just the one.

— Wynonna Earp.

[sputnik]

[ Tension coils tight and unpleasant in his gut, but Konstantin can't say he's altogether surprised by how things have been falling apart in this place. It was only a matter of time — and all of the worst scenarios he'd been imagining are happening. Food became scarce, the people here became violent, there have been more dreams, strange storms; whoever's really pulling the strings is yanking them back tightly, sending everyone reeling to the ground. He still thinks this could all be one big experiment.

But there's one big thing, and this, too, is something Konstantin's been dreading. Kieren Walker — a boy who's too young to be so much like him — lost himself, killed and ate someone, and now he's disappeared. Vanished. He might be dead. Or he might be worse. Maybe the people running this place took him, maybe they're experimenting on him. Or maybe one of the community did something to him; Konstantin's heard about the "town meeting", which was really some shit-show trial. What Kieren did was revealed to the public, and any one of them could have decided to do something about it.

If he is still alive, someone could be holding him somewhere. Could be out in Lakeside — but it'd be a lot more of a thing to drag the kid all the way out there. So Konstantin sticks to Milton first, and he's spent the past couple of days searching for any whereabouts that a hostage-slash-lab-rat might be taken. Nothing screams as obvious — but he wasn't expecting to find some big trap door leading to an underground facility. What he's really looking for is in the people he comes across. Clues, suspicious behaviour; he's never shed the thought that some of this community could be plants put into place.

Or maybe it really is just one of this number who decided to take matters into their own hands and deal with a teenager with a deadly diet and someone's blood on his hands. Konstantin really knows so very little of the population; he's kept a necessary distance, but now the cosmonaut can be found seeking out strangers around town and even knocking on cabin doors. He has a different approach for different situations, depending on what's needed — playful, serious, desperate, relaxed.

By the time he knocks on this door, he's tired, and the tension's winding tighter, because he hasn't found out much of anything, and the last couple of people he'd tried talking to weren't exactly helpful. Everyone's tired. But giving up isn't an option, not when he remembers Kieren's pale shuddering hands and wide doe eyes, and Konstantin doesn't know what his own son looks like, so maybe every boy he meets could look a little like Alexsei.

His disposition's a little more subdued than usual as he knocks and takes a step back from the door to wait, arms folding across his chest, sucking on the inside of a cheek as he stands there wondering who lives in this cabin. Probably going to be another dead end. ]

[pacificator]

[ She hasn't been out here at the cabin the whole time — there's Kate and Little and March to check on, Bigby to bother with all of her questions about her weird new ability, and Tommy out in Lakeside — but she's been here more often than not, looking at the photo of herself with Willa and Waverly, looking at the crossed out faces of the Seven and letting herself wallow. Why not? It kills the time, and it keeps her from thinking too much about Elias, or about the pathetic attempt at a trial that backfired so stupendously, or about the way she'd held onto Kate and Edward Little after finding them that day in the sun like letting go would mean drowning.

Everyone was stressed and worried. She's not the only one who hugged some people and regretted it later, probably.

It's the knock that lifts her from her reverie: a quick rap of knuckles that isn't March just swanning in or Little announcing himself, and Wynonna pushes herself up from where she's slouched in the rocking chair in front of the fire to go push the door open. She hangs there, one hand on the door and the other on the jamb, and gives the guy standing on her porch an unimpressed look. ]

What?

[ He looks familiar enough; she's seen him around and noticed him only enough for a vague thought that he looks too clean-cut and put-together, like someone cursed a paper doll with a spell that makes it think it's human. In contrast, she's slightly rumpled, sockfooted and wearing her torn jeans. In a nod to the slightly warmer weather, she'd abandoned jackets and sweaters and is wearing a t-shirt tied up at her ribcage, baring a long pale expanse of midriff. ]

Look, I don't need any magazine subscriptions, and I don't have any interest in God. I just haven't had a chance to go pick up a 'No Solicitors' sign. Thanks for stopping by.

[ In another second, she'll have the door closed in his face. ]

I'm crying he literally said https://giphy.com/gifs/lZjnZEADTQTlu

[sputnik]

[ Whatever he's expecting, it certainly isn't this.

Konstantin almost immediately straightens up as the door opens to reveal a young woman — hair a pretty mess of thick, loose waves, looking comfortable and at-ease and cool. The movement of his eyes to her abdomen comes before he can really think about it; in his time and culture, women don't expose skin quite so freely, and he's almost stunned by it.

But clearly not in any way that's averse, considering his eyes do linger there at the woman's bare midriff for a few very intentional (very appreciative) seconds, and when they lift again, it's with a rolling, lazy gesture, like he's having to coax them right back up. Something brightens in the man's gaze, turning inky-dark eyes into a warmer brown. His mouth quirks at the corners, edging towards a smile that lingers without fully-forming just yet.

Well, well, well. Isn't she a sight for sore eyes? —About to be a very brief sight, considering she immediately, instantly, dismisses him, and the ability to think so quickly on his feet comes in handy for the cosmonaut just now, because he's reaching to place a hand against her doorframe — not blocking the thing from shutting if she really wants to, and there's still a polite distance to the space he gives her, but the way he tilts forwards into something of a lean begs to be heard for a little longer. ]

Wait, please— [ he adds, as if his body language wasn't enough to suggest he's not going to be gotten rid of so easily, and now he's smiling. It's friendly, and pleased, and he thinks surely very charming. He's used that smile more times than he can count — to men and women in equal amounts, for differing reasons, but it has a particular meaning to the fairer sex. He is known as the heartthrob of the decade, after all. ]

No subscriptions, and certainly no gods. I wouldn't subject you to either of those things. [ Konstantin laughs, good-naturedly, and places his other hand comfortably on his hip. ]

I didn't even know who lived here. I almost skipped this house. [ His smile warms. ] Now I'm glad I didn't.

[pacificator]

[ If he'd put his hand in the door, she might have closed it on his fingers just to be a bitch, but as it is, he only leans in with a hand on the jamb like a jock pinning a cheerleader against a locker in the high school hallway. His smile looks like it belongs on a billboard advertising a some dentist's office where they do shit like glue fake fronts to your teeth.

It's charming. There's no doubt he's got charm, and plenty of it, but it feels like a too-friendly hand rubbing a cat's fur the wrong way up its back and leaving it bristling. She's known plenty of guys like him, polished and polite even as they stare at her chest or her bare stomach and then smile like that's all it's ever taken to get out of trouble.

He's one gigantic belt buckle away from being an older version of Champ. Her expression flattens. ]

Okay. Take it down a notch, Casanova.

[ On another day, he might be fun to tease and seduce and leave stranded somewhere, tied up to a bed with no way to get himself free, but just looking at his blinding smile is giving her a headache. He settles his other hand on his hip, casual and comfortable, but all it does is remind her of March and his stupid fucking power poses. ]

Is there something you want? Because I have a pretty full day of 'doing literally anything but this' that I should really be getting back to.

[sputnik]

[ That smile does soften almost immediately after she tells him to take it down a notch — he's nothing if not adaptable — from bright to more of a glow.

(The thing is, up under his playful ease, Konstantin's not fully sure how to adapt to this. It's an unexpected reaction — she's not even blushing! He's standing right there!)

He takes another moment to assess the stranger, brief, seconds — she's... American, would be his guess. It would explain the exposed torso, probably. ]

Please accept my apologies for interrupting your full day. [ Konstantin's already learned how to adjust his way of speaking towards the people here, words coated in strong and rich Russian, but he coaxes his voice to float just a little softer, smoother. ]

I was hoping you might be able to help me. I'm looking for someone. A friend. I can't seem to find him anywhere. [ His smile stays easy, playful, warm, but his eyes are locked right on, searching hers. He doesn't trust most anyone here further than he can throw them, and anyone is a potential suspect — even if they're gorgeous and have the greyest eyes he's ever seen, like sleet. ]

Have you been here long enough to know most names and faces?

[ He asks it like that intentionally rather than about Kieren outright, to begin with. The more information he can pull out of people, the better — this way, he'll be able to learn if she's new or if she's been stuck in this hell for a longer time. ]

[pacificator]

[ His smile dims, which is a plus, but he's still there on her porch, which is less than ideal. And it's a simple enough yes or no question he asks, in that rich Russian accent; there's no reason for her not to give him the information he's looking for.

No reason but to be difficult, which is reason enough for her. ]

Dude, I don't even know your name.

[ She does, actually, recognize his face, if vaguely. And probably she could have learned his name by now, but why bother? She's got her own circle of people to keep an eye out for, and that keeps her busy enough. ]

Why don't you tell me who you're looking for, and I'll tell you if I've seen him around?

— Chloe Frazer.

[sputnik]

It was only a matter of time before the structures holding this place together started to cave inwards and break apart. Konstantin's been expecting this — though he couldn't have predicted exactly how it would happen. And he's still not sure how much of it is actually a result of the community itself, or whatever's really running the show. He still thinks some of the people here could be plants put into place to make things happen a certain way.

But whatever's truly to blame for it, things are getting bad. Getting worse. First the food shortages, then the weird dreams again, and the odd storm. Now he's heard more of the story about that little town meeting that was held — the one he and Vasiliy had nothing to do with. The one that was really less of a "town meeting" because it was actually a fucking trial.

People were tried, punishments were doled out, Kieren's gone missing afterwards, and the kid might even be dead.

He needs to check in with His People — the little group of residents here that Konstantin trusts more than the rest, even if he knows none of them have revealed everything to each other. There are things he probably needs to divulge to more of them, but after what he's heard about the trial and the fact it involved more than one person with a less-than-normal diet... it's no wonder he's feeling a bit cagey again.

He's not far from where Chloe actually lives when he spots her — maybe coming or going from her place — and he lifts an arm, calling out. "Chloe!" Quickening the pace, Konstantin jogs up to the woman with a puff of foggy breath. "Hey. I was hoping to run into you. Someone sane in the middle of this circus."

I was like wow this is great and then just never… responded to it…

[desperate_times_right]

Chloe is actually feeling a bit better by now - yeah everything sucked but it's mostly gone as well as it could have and she can repress the rest. She had done things during the long night that she never wants to think about again, and once again her body is changing in ways that she’s not ready for, but all of her people are alive, which really isn't a given at this point.

And speaking of, here’s a friend she hasn't seen in a while.

“Kostya, hey! Glad to see you made it through in one piece.”

my slug brain.... biggest mood

[sputnik]

He smiles, though there's something less bright to the gesture — a tiredness he can't quite keep from infiltrating his usual expression. But he's truly relieved to see the woman, looking her over as though to check she really is in one piece after what went down.

"I could say the same for you. Seems like it's been wild around here lately."

He adjusts his backpack, falling into step beside her. "Are you free for a chat?"

[desperate_times_right]

Chloe nods. “Sure. I'm just heading out to the greenhouse, if you want to tag along.”

She knows this guy loves his walks, and it seems like he wants to talk.

[sputnik]

"Ah — the greenhouse. I've heard about it." He hasn't been out to see it for himself yet, with everything that's been happening these past weeks, but — what with the recent food scare, it's something worth asking about for sure. He's all too happy to come finally see it.

"How's that going?"

[desperate_times_right]

“Really good actually - some of the guys here helped me with building the structure, and now I've got my first plants in the ground.”

They might have actual home grown vegetables by Methuselah’s next feast.