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

[notarat]

[ This Doctor guy? He's so much.

If there's any impression Billy is getting real quick over here, it's that one. The other just keeps on prattling on, like he's jumping from one thought to another, and Billy has to make a genuine mental effort to try and keep up with it all. Especially when he has to wonder - in the middle of it all - what parent would ever call their child Doctor. That just seems like a cruel and unusual punishment for a baby.

Billy has eaten half the biscuit, but the other half is still in his hand, like he can't even really eat while his brain is trying to process anything that's going on here. ]

Gibson. [ Ironically enough Billy does catch onto the vibe that the other man might just nickname him if he isn't careful. It's something about the other's overly enthusiastic demeanor, really, and the very idea of a nickname makes Billy feel like he might break out in hives. There's a reason he only lets people very close to him call him Billy. ] William Gibson.

[ But he definitely prefers the most formal basis possible - hence why he offer his first name initially, before giving his full name. ]

No need to thank me though, Mr... [ .. No, he's still struggling with this. Look at the way his brows knit together. ] Mr. Doctor.

[ He's a little confused, but he's got the right spirit! ]

I should thank you for bringing information along with you from that far off place. I believe that it is prudent for us to learn more about this place, especially when it might provide us some helpful answers to our current circumstances. The more we know, the better we can survive, hopefully.

[thedreamer]

[ It would be of little help or comfort probably given the chaos of the moment, but even the Doctor struggles in the depths of his own mind. As though there are times he needs to belay a rappel in the far corners lest he get lost there. So, William Gibson is actually in quite good company. Ish. The Doctor considers this a positive interaction so far given that the man has yet to simply walk away, so they're off to a fantastic start (in his mind). ]

Oh, no, please — dreadful, that. Mister, I mean. Just Doctor. No formalities needed.

[ Jopson's insistence on calling him sir is quite enough as it is. Of course, he could attempt to explain his own name a bit more but they'll go the way of madness if they take a step further down that road. Says the self-confessed madman... ]

And I couldn't agree with you more, Mr. William Gibson. [ Going forward, he'll use any variation of his name now, so he might sometimes be William or Gibson, Mr. Gibson or the full, as now. But he'll avoid Billy, no, that would be too easy and obvious. He'll come up with something better in the way of a nickname for him later, once he knows him more. ]

Let's start with a bang, shall we? I'm curious what you make of the notes I jotted down from our dear departed friend Sam's journal. Departed as in, not among us. Can't assume anything beyond that.

[ He pushes his journal towards William, with notes that he'd taken in summary of Sam's longer entries. ] Take your time looking through it.

[ In the margins of the journal, William is free to notice tiny random seemingly nonsensical drawings; a "plain" box with a door and at the top it says Police Public Call Box. There are drawings of stars and planets and swirling-not-swirling supernovas. It all makes sense to him. But really, the notes are what matter, and feature more prominently. ]

[notarat]

[ But what if he wants formalities, huh. What if it's the one thing that's comfortable enough to hide behind.

--thankfully Billy has something else to latch onto in the moment. No need to debate formalities when the Doctor is so helpfully handing him those notes, and Billy would prefer to talk about those than about how little he wants to call the other Doctor. Maybe it'd help if he'd just imagine he was talking to an actual doctor, but--

No, he's definitely turning his mind to the notes. For what it is worth, he does quietly read them, and apparently isn't even scanning them, since he's taking some time.

He frowns a little bit once he raises his gaze from the notes, looking back over at the other man. ]

Plenty of things in here sound similar to things we have dealt with as well.

[ So that part isn't too surprising. It just sounds like he knew less of what was going on. Maybe what's written down here was the start of all the strangeness here. ]

Though he sounds.. [ His voice trails off for a moment.

Even if they are speaking about someone who clearly is not among them, Billy seems to be looking for the more diplomatic turn of phrase here before settling on: ]

.. very paranoid, if you would ask me.

[thedreamer]

[ Whether he finds it a comfort or the opposite, the Doctor will at least carry on calling him some variation of Mister, at least in the reverse. He likes the way it sounds! As though they're having a very intense study session together. He can get behind this. It's just lending more credence to Billy's not-formally-agreed-to designation as the Doctor's study buddy. ]

Not that you're necessarily wrong, Mr. Gibson, but he had a bit on his mind, didn't he, our Sam? What came first — was he the paranoid sort already in life and the poor chap ended up here of all places, which is arguably the worst sort of environment for someone already paranoid? Or did this place take his mind slowly?

I suppose it doesn't matter as he's not with us regardless.

[ He's careful in how he phrases that. "Not with us" as opposed to outright saying he's dead, though that would be the most logical conclusion perhaps. It's just the sort of conclusion that's too finite for the Doctor. ]

What does matter is what happened to him, and...those messages he received by morse code. He'd jotted down just the code, not deciphered. Maybe that was paranoia, too — in case anyone found his journal and if they couldn't read it themselves, he wanted to keep it safe.

[ It's possible perhaps Sam couldn't decipher the code himself, could only take the dictation, but given his role as firewatcher, he imagines morse code would have been prudent for him to know. ]

Put together, we have a few possibilities. There's the word — break. Under. Mount. If you mash them together, we find something like...breakdown. Nature. Words scrambled together.

[notarat]

A lot of what happened to him seems like what is happening to us. Devices malfunctioning during any time other than the Aurora. That is exactly what happens here as well. [ Not that Billy understands that much about electronics, given the time he comes from, but-- he's learned a little bit, especially after having been here for several months now. ] Not to mention the dreams mentioned at the end-- the being it speaks of is the Darkwalker, doubtlessly. I have heard talk of it speaking to people here before like that, making said people.. shut down. Give up.

[ It's not exactly a fun topic for him either, given that the man's eyebrows knit together as he speaks of it. Billy really does not like the amount of power this Darkwalker seems to have over them. ]

The messages indeed seem to be the part that differs though.

[ Or, at least - if they got such messages during the Aurora here, then Billy hasn't noticed it. ]

They seem.. incomplete, don't they? [ He glances up, over at the Doctor, and then points his finger at the other's notes so he can see what Billy means. ] As if part of them was cut off, or he did not see the entire signal. The first message could actually start with "native," perhaps, and then the second one.. "Winter"?

[ It could be other words, but that seems the most likely, given that this place almost seems stuck in permanent winter. ]

What do you think?

[thedreamer]

Precisely, yes. Imagine this poor chap's landed himself a seemingly cozy job for a few months out in nature, enjoying the scenery, being helpful, seeing sights he's never seen before. It must have seemed like quite the adventure, and...well, this happens.

[ There is always two sides of it for the Doctor — his brain is quick to leap first into assessing a situation, the facts of it, the logic, what can be learned. Once that data is gathered, once he's cobbled together enough to be useful and start to apply it towards the matter of helping others, his mind turns to the human side of it, the impact on the one who lived through it. In this case, Sam. Reading his thoughts is a deeply personal thing. They may never know one another and Sam may in fact be long gone, even if he prefers not to think of it. But through his words, the progression of fear, he feels a protectiveness towards him, a wish that he might have been able to turn the tide of fate.

If he can't save Sam, he'll continue throwing his energy into keeping those here safe. ]

I wonder — if the Darkwalker was starting to talk to Sam, even influence his thoughts, why. What did it want from him, or anyone? It's...been able to get into others' heads, yes. It kills, but when it manipulates thought, now we're talking that it delights in playing with people as though they were puppets.

[ He trails off a bit, though, because he can only begin to surmise. There's still much unknown about the creature, other than it being quite obviously dangerous. He distracts himself with focusing on the messages again and nods a little. ]

Yes, agreed. The first message doesn't lend much alone - "native" is a possibility. "Bear" - but that wouldn't convey much. You need both messages together, but...it's muddled.

[ He tears a few blank pages out of his notebook now, placing those pages before both of them. And he writes out the code again, circling letters, crossing out letters. ]

"Winter" - yes, but...what would that be telling Sam? What was it trying to tell him.

If we cross out these, this and that - we end up with... breakdown, nature, motive, eat. Nature breaking down? Winter coming?

[notarat]

Well, technically there are a great number of words one could form from these letters.

[ Sure, those four neatly get all of the letters out of the way, but it does make Billy wonder if there perhaps are other configurations. He doesn't feel smart enough to see them right away, but seeing words, now that part isn't so hard-- ]

Wonderment. [ A slight pause, and then: ] Mutineer.

[ That one comes naturally to him, of course. ]

But if we are to suppose that the message was meant with those four words exactly, it might have been the Darkwalker speaking to him too, or someone speaking of the Darkwalker. You ask what it wants from us, and that matter seems simple to me. [ Billy speaks of it fairly business-like in this moment, focused on figuring all of this out, but--

There's a dip in his voice here a little, worry peeking through. The Darkwalker has always been an antsy topic to him, especially the thought it could take any of them at any given moment. Not exactly a great thought for someone who already greatly worries at all times. It feels too similar to the creature from back in his own world, yet-- worse, somehow. ]

It wants us gone. Dead. It seems to think we do not belong here.

[ He inhales, forcing himself to calm down. Especially since he can feel his hands growing hot, and that's never a good sign with his powers. ]

In that case-- The Darkwalker's motive for doing what it does. [ He moves his finger across the letters the other man pointed out. ] Humans break down nature, so it eats them. It's a possibility.

[ Though Billy isn't too sure eats is a good word for what happened to the corpses they find, but-- still. Maybe it's a metaphorical thing? ]

Though I'm not sure why that message of all things would be conveyed through the Aurora.

[thedreamer]

No. No, nor am I. Why that message, and why through the Aurora via morse code when it could have simply invaded his mind? The way it spoke to all of us when we arrived, which — yes, it has been clear from the very beginning, hasn't it. Not wanting us here. We're not part of nature's design. Quite unfortunately for all of us, we don't exactly have a choice in the matter.

[ Loath as he is to admit that. It's a point of contention again, not for the first time. To be trapped here without his TARDIS, with no means or ability to rescue the lot of them.

Though the moment he considers what rescuing all of them would entail, he's confronted with the reality that many here were brought back from death, given renewed life. A second chance. What would it mean to rescue them from here. These are all thoughts that tumble about in his head quietly when he's alone, when he has all the time in the world to think. The very fact of them being here has already fractured untold timelines. But those are troubles for another day.

To the matter at hand — ]

Let me pose to you a thought that might sound absurd and impossible, but bearing in mind that impossible things are somewhat a specialty of mine. Could you imagine a future — even if it's quite far away — where we've come to understand the Darkwalker, and it's come to understand us, and we might manage a shaky peace here? The answer might seem a foregone conclusion, that it wants us gone, that peace would never be possible, not when it can do what it's capable of. But I've had some experience fighting monsters out there in the big old universe — some weren't monsters at all once you understood them. Some were, yes, and in those instances I tend to loathe, there's little choice left to us but to defend ourselves.

[ He rarely sees things in black and white — things are not just black or white for him in most cases. But then there is evil out there, like the Daleks. Cybermen. No amount of diplomacy, negotiation, or hope will circumvent what they're capable of. As it is, he may be laughed at for even floating the notion, but he's prepared for that. It's not an idea he's absolutely sold on, either. Given what the Darkwalker's already done, well, there's little hope a peace can be brokered, but hope — however small — is something he looks for. ]

[notarat]

[ Though Billy is not laughing at the other, the look on his face suggests - far before he even says anything - that he indeed believes this to be an absolutely ridiculous notion. It's hard for a guy like him to imagine that an entity like the Darkwalker could ever be understood, after all. Being part of an imperialist British expedition makes it hard to imagine that about things which Are Not Like You in general, but monsters like the Darkwaker who seem to do absolutely everything to get rid of them?

Billy would imagine a truce with the Forest Talkers before the Darkwalker, that's for sure. And even that isn't a very likely idea to him in the first place, so it's saying something. ]

What is there to understand about the Darkwalker? [ He therefore can't help but ask, his attention fully turned away from the notes and over to the other man now when he speaks.

His eyebrows are knitting themselves further and further together into a frown. ]

It wants to get rid of us at any cost. I-- [ Billy pauses.

He looks a little hesitant, but then seems to speak on all the same, rather than burying the information he has. He feels a little ridiculous whenever he talks about it, but if the other's talk about experience with fighting monsters is true, then maybe Billy will find this talk stranger than the other. ]

We also encountered a creature back home. A-- monster, if you wish to call it that. It was trying to hunt us down at any cost. Kill us. The Darkwalker seems exactly the same as that creature.

[ He doesn't look too happy as he speaks of it. Not even angry or anything, just-- scared.

It's clear that the idea of these entities puts some fear in him. ]

How do you expect a being like that to ever be reasoned with?

[thedreamer]

[ It's perhaps a more positive response than he could have hoped for, in the sense that the other man at least hasn't simply walked away. Whether or not he agrees with him or thinks he's gone absolutely mad, he's still here listening to him. They can disagree and still talk. That's what he loves — different points of view, and learning more about where others have come from. ]

The most important thing to understand about it, of course, is the nature of it. What it comes from, what's created it, what keeps it going. [ He's stating the obvious here, of course. They all want to know more about it. But an entity that's essentially the nature of fear itself is — difficult to go up against. ]

I don't expect it to be capable of seeing reason, but if there's even the slightest possibility, I won't give up the hope of it.

The monster you speak of, the thing that hunted you — it's a variation on a theme. Not just your monster, not just the one here, but it's as old as time. Entities out there in the universe incapable of anything but destruction — unwilling and unable to do anything but harm or kill others. I've seen it myself, I've fought beings that were pure evil, creatures without mercy or pity. Trust me, I know the line, the point of no return. And that may very well be the Darkwalker — that it's already well beyond any hope I might have that it could be reasoned with. But I'd try, if I had the chance.

[ Perhaps he sounds like the madman he so often purports himself to be. But whatever madness he's suggesting, it would be his own self he'd put on the line and no one else. ]

Of course, it's unlikely that thing would grant me an audience for a chat. In a moment of looking at me, it could kill me, I know that, too. But until I exhaust all possibilities, I have hope in the unknown.

[ What seems to be a hint of fear in the other man's eyes doesn't go unnoticed, and so it feels important to add — ]

I know monsters, William Gibson. Most know better by now than to trifle with me. I am going to see everyone here safe and out of harm's way.

[notarat]

[ ...

Well.

That's a lot. Then again, everything that seems to come out of the other man's mouth is a lot, but Billy would say this is a particular amount a lot. He stares at the other for a moment, something a little baffled in his gaze, and when he opens his mouth the first thing that comes out of there is: ]

I cannot tell if you are delusional.

[ Maybe not the most polite thing to say here, but it is Billy just being honest for once. The Doctor's wild speech apparently smashed the usual polite shield Billy puts up to hide all of himself behind to pieces, letting his true feelings come forth.

It doesn't sound like an insult though - it sounds like Billy is, in this moment, actively trying to figure as much out. ]

You will get yourself killed. [ And with that, another honest emotion shines through in the words. It's concern. ]

[thedreamer]

[ Perhaps not the most polite by the standards of others, but the Doctor doesn't offend so easily. It's not that terribly different from being told how strange he is — something he's used to hearing often and hardly minds. If anything, he's endeared by the bold honesty.

He's not always very good at navigating his own thoughts and emotions, let alone those of others, but he tries to pay attention, to take notice that someone expressing he might get himself killed isn't simply saying it just to say it.

He doesn't care to or intend to get himself killed, of course, and he would feel that he'd failed everyone here if something happened to him before he could stop the Darkwalker. But if the course of his life (or death) meant doing just that, keeping them all safe at the cost of his existence, then it would absolutely be worth it. ]

I'll be fine! [ The assurance comes quickly, perhaps too quickly. He would be more flippant about it, but he leans instead into the softer part of his nature, the part of himself that always wants to help. ]

Besides, keeping people safe is what I do, what I will do here.

[ His duty of care, as it were. ]

[notarat]

[ The fact that the assurance comes this quickly definitely makes Billy figure that the other is delusional about the fact that he will be alright - if not just because it isn't even the first case of this that he has encountered. His husband in this place is exactly like that, believing that even the Darkwalker could not hurt him.

Billy assumed it was kind of a unique thing, but apparently he's not even the only one.. Thankfully he feels far less personally responsible for the Doctor. Not that he'd want to see him die, but-- well, he seems stubborn. Difficult to stop. Maybe someone else can take the duty of stopping a clearly reckless person upon them for once.

So.. ]

Well, if you are succesful in that, then I am certain everyone here would be very grateful to you. [ That's not a lie. Billy does know that'd be true, with how big their problems here are, especially everything pertaining to the Darkwalker.

He just doesn't think the Doctor's success is all that likely. ]

[thedreamer]

[ He wouldn't need or even want gratitude, truthfully, it is simply what he does. What he always tries to do, in any case. The thought he could fail is what haunts him more than anything; so many have been harmed already, he can't bear the thought of more to come. ]

I'm grateful to those who've been here longer and paved the way a bit, who've learned what they could and shared that knowledge with others. Like...Heartman, for instance. I didn't know him long, but what he was able to do with those talismans kept many safe.

We just — need more of that.