methuselah (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
singmod) wrote in ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png)
singillatim2024-07-10 05:05 pm
singmod) wrote in singillatim2024-07-10 05:05 pm
Entry tags:
- *event,
- bigby wolf: jelle,
- chloe frazer: tess,
- cornelius hickey: kates,
- francis crozier: gels,
- jason todd: jessi,
- john irving: gabbie,
- kate marsh: cheryl,
- konstantin veshnyakov: jhey,
- levi jordan: cirape,
- louis de pointe du lac: tea,
- randvi: tess,
- snow white: carly,
- svetlana nazarova: kota,
- the doctor: kris,
- thomas jopson: kota,
- william gibson: jelle,
- wynonna earp: lorna
there'll be oats in the water
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
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.
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.
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.
no subject
[ Bigby, please focus! ]
Hey. Wolfman. You are literally the only person here who can help me right now.
[ And... honestly? She probably would have come to him anyway. Bigby's not March or Little, they don't hang out all the time, but she trusts him completely and he's by far the best person to go to with a thorny problem to solve. Despite his reputation, he's level-headed — at least, in comparison to her — and steady. This is far from the first time some shit has gone down and she's thought: Bigby can help. ]
Am I like a werewolf now, or something?
no subject
.. but Wynonna seeming so distressed - by her standards - is pulling him down to reality. She means just a little bit too much to him for Bigby to just run off in the middle of this. ]
No. [ He finally manages to say.
It can't be that. It doesn't feel like that. Bigby knows it's the thing mundies like Wynonna often default to, considering werewolves are such a popular mundy trope, but he doesn't think that's it. ]
It's like those other powers we got before, Wynonna. [ There's a strange tone in Bigby's voice too. Sure, he's trying to reassure her in this moment, but there's also a kind of excitement rising in his voice with every single word he speaks. A kind of excitement he can't full suppress. ] You know, like the people who can make fire out of nothing? That shit happened after lots of people in town had weird-ass dreams, right? I had one of those tonight. You probably had the same one. It just means-- we can change into wolves now when we want to. Don't you feel it too?
[ Sorry, Wynonna.. He's really trying to put himself into your shoes and make you feel better right now, but.. the wolf excitement is so strong. Even though Bigby is still in human form, he has the energy about him of a dog wagging its tail - the sort of energy Bigby usually never wears, far too gruff and grumpy. ]
no subject
[ She spreads her hands wide, giving him a no shit, Sherlock look from beneath her arched brows. ]
I can feel it, that's the problem.
[ Look, she knows he's not being excited at her, but he seems to be missing the part of this where she's never been able to turn into a wolf before and how extremely fucking weird this whole thing is. She hadn't gotten any weird powers before; why now?
She scrunches up her face, gives herself a little shake, and refocuses on him. ]
So you had the dream, too? You can turn back into a wolf now?
no subject
[ After all, to Bigby the dream didn't seem all that weird. It's close enough to what he has dreamed of before - to the extent that he didn't even realize the dream meant something until Wynonna started pointing it out like this.
The thought is wild though. Maybe he can turn into a wolf again. Maybe he can be himself again, for the first time in almost a year.
It takes another moment before he snaps out of it, seeming to remember Wynonna's tone. It's hard to drag himself out of the thought he could try to transform right now and run off, but he doesn't want to do that to her. ]
Come on. Being able to turn into a wolf isn't bad.
no subject
[ But Bigby's barely-held excitement is starting to help shake her out of her initial shock. He's never said it in so many words, but she knows he's missed being able to shift.
And if he can do it, too, then she won't be doing it alone.
Wynonna considers him, her shoulders tight before she consciously relaxes them. ]
Look, maybe you could just, I don't know. Show me the ropes.
no subject
He even reaches out to touch her shoulder, letting his hand rest on there for a moment. Even if Bigby doesn't do physical affection all that often, right now he's in a pretty good mood if all this turns out to be true. ]
Of course I will. You're not in this alone.
[ Part of the pack just turned very literal, Wynonna. Sorry. ]
I'm pretty sure transforming is going to ruin the hell out of your clothes though. So you might want to do it inside, if you don't want to rip everything. [ He gestures at his house. Look, he'll.. find a way to explain this to Snow.. Or maybe just make sure she doesn't notice. ] It'll be a pain in the ass with how few clothes there are to go around here. Just leave your clothes in my room, I'll watch the room's door for you from the outside.
[ N-No, he's just being protective!! Don't read into it!!! ]
no subject
And then she got here, and before she really realized it, she had people, people to keep an eye on, people who are on her side. Bigby, March, Kate, Thomas, Little... it's not a big group, maybe, but it's hers.
Her slim shoulder shifts a little under Bigby's hand, and it's only a moment before she nods. Not like she cares that much about stripping down out here, but that's not the point: the point is Bigby's offer, that he wants to help in more ways than one. ]
Okay. Time to go full bitch.
[ It doesn't take her long to undress in his room, to set everything aside, and once she closes her eyes and concentrates, it's shockingly easy to let the wolf take over. She shrinks, lands on all fours, and a few moments later trots out to give him a skeptical look.
Okay, buster. Now what? ]
no subject
It's still Bigby though. It's mostly in his eyes. They're exactly the shade of black and gold as they are whenever he gets too stressed out even in his human form, the way they had been during that town meeting, months upon months ago. And despite the fact that it's his first time seeing her in this wolf form, he can recognize her too. Something about it - especially her scent, he thinks, considering that's usually always how he recognizes people and can only now properly smell again in this form - just screams that it's her.
The large wolf moves, opening the front door and leading her outside. He only pauses for a moment to shove himself against the door to close it - being a little more proper about his house when it's not just him living there anymore.
But after that.. he doesn't hesitate. Even if this form is newer to Wynonna than to him, he figures that she'll be able to keep up. That her wolf instinct will kick in. Even humans who turn into wolves must have that in some shape, right?
So Bigby just starts running. ]
no subject
But this isn't flight, this is running for the pure fun of it: not away from anything or toward anything, simply moving for the sake of moving. Her paws and claws bite into the snow and give her traction; her strong hind legs propel her forward. Bigby's bigger than her, but she makes up for the length of his strides by the speed of her own. And it's fun.
Her ears prick up, then flatten against her skull as she pushes for more speed, arrowing down a path that leads further into the woods. Scent and sound are all around her, a new world of layers and clues and fascinating promise. She takes a second to look over at Bigby, her eyes bright. This is... yeah, it's good. Really good. ]
no subject
And why wouldn't she, really? Bigby is enjoying this. It feels like it's been so long since he was last able to do this, and it feels utterly freeing to be able to just run around without having to think too much. Without being chained to human standards.
He feels free for the first time in a long, long while.
He only stops running to teach Wynonna another lesson about being a wolf - which involves turning his head up, nose in the sky, starting to sniff.
You smell that, Wynonna? That scent of rabbit? ]