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

[lieutenantsteward]

"Stuck with you," he repeats, reaching down to rub at his legs once the Doctor sits down. They're feeling much better, much more relaxed, but he's enjoying the peace and quiet while he has it. The Doctor has a tendency to go and go and go, and Thomas enjoys it when he sits and waits.

"Ah, I think I can live with that, sir," he says, closing his eyes a moment, waiting for the cloth to get cool enough to remove. He turns down his trouser legs and lets out a breath, packing everything up again.

"When we get back, you should roast your acorns. It will make them less bitter. Are you ready?"

[thedreamer]

"Roast," he smiles thoughtfully. "Could do, yes. Onto something there!"

He shifts to join him, though, brushing the snow from his trousers idly. The thought of roasting the acorns turns him to other ideas, too, different meals to experiment with. For another time.

He'll walk closely beside him, of course, offering his hand again at a certain point, if he has a mind to take it. It's another thing he hasn't thought of much before — tactile as he is, so many times he's held hands with a friend, hugged them, those touches are fleeting. With Thomas, it's...pleasant, when it lingers a bit longer.

[lieutenantsteward]

Thomas is quiet and thoughtful as they walk, working through everything they talked on and what they saw up in the lookout tower. It was all a mixup of information and data that he can't actually decipher, but mixed in with emotional turmoil that he needs to simply - breathe from.

"You could grind them," he says, taking his hand and not realizing that a lot of time had passed since their acorn conversation.

"Leech the bitterness out of them and then grind them."

[thedreamer]

Fortunately for Thomas, his delayed additional bit of advice rather perfectly complements how the Doctor's mind works, often leaping from thought to thought like a rock might skip across the water when thrown.

While it takes him a moment, a brief pause to scrunch his nose up a bit in thought and murmur, "Bitterness? Out of...what?" As soon as he says it, though, he clues in, picking up the thread, "Of course! The tannins. That's why — slow on that one, me. Point to you, Thomas Jopson — brilliant. Leech them, grind them...oh, you'll get your bread yet." A slow grin spreads on his face now, more ideas coming to him. It will take...a lot of time, it will be complicated, there will be much trial and error, it might not even work the way he hopes, but it's a project! A bit of a happier one compared some of the other things going on around them.

[lieutenantsteward]

Thomas is fairly certain he can do this himself, and is looking forward to trying it. But the enthusiasm with which the Doctor is approaching this is ultimately what keeps him from saying it aloud. He's going to let the Doctor do this for him, and Thomas is a little - excited about it.

No. He's very excited about it. No one has ever cared about him like this and he's going to enjoy it for as long as possible.

"You may not have enough for proper bread, but you should have enough for something like it," he points out. "And I will help you find acorns."

[thedreamer]

"Our next great adventure — acorn hunting! Well, that and the hot springs." Which will be a long journey, of course, but with something to look forward to when they manage it. He's finding that to be a consistent theme in Thomas' company — big or small, there's always something to look forward to. Somehow just being around him gives him all these grand ideas for more things to do with him, to experience with him, to give to him.

"What will you do when you get back to your cabin? Apart from enjoy the far larger bed with grand enthusiasm tonight, I'm sure. No lumpy bowtied men beside you hogging the duvet."

Room to stretch out, to rest what must be weary bones when they finally arrive. It will be — different. Not being with him tonight.

[lieutenantsteward]

And the hot springs. It's a hell of a journey, and he will need to rest a while before making it. But there's something good at the end of the road, fortunately.

"Wynonna is still out for a few days," he remarks lightly. Which means he's alone in the big cabin, in that big bed, and that sounds absolutely intolerable. "You could stay a while longer, if you'd like. I could use the assistance."

Maybe he's blatantly manipulating him into staying, or maybe he's just giving him a way out. Even Thomas doesn't know.

[thedreamer]

He has the vaguest awareness that perhaps specific words are chosen, particularly as he possesses no power to deny him when he mentions needing assistance. It's an instant reaction from the Doctor despite that, the decision that he'll be with him for whatever he needs, as long as he needs.

"Just your luck, then, I make house calls!" He smiles playfully, warmly.

It would be easy to lean into the notion that he's simply making himself available to tend to Thomas after what's been a long journey. And that is true, but it's more than that, though he doesn't quite know how to parse through those thoughts just now. It's — meaningful in ways he can't easily express, that he would want him to stay. Maybe that shouldn't be surprising, either, after all that's been said and happened between them, but regardless — he'll stay with him.

[lieutenantsteward]

"Fortunate for me," he says, focusing again on the walk. He can see the edges of the lake again, nearly there across the side. He leads the way along the shore, not daring to cross the water. It's a longer trip, but much less dangerous.

"And fortunate for you that I've all the wood I need. You won't have to split any."

Will Thomas ever let him live that down? He tries not to, especially since it makes him smile.

[thedreamer]

"Oh, good, good, so my efforts to show you proper technique last time weren't in vain," he cheekily teases. He is, of course, well aware that he's being teased, but he can laugh at himself, too. And it was a good memory for him, another one tucked away for safekeeping.

The Doctor's cabin is on the other side of the lake, though it won't be a terribly long walk when they do part. For now, though, he'll be glad to enjoy Thomas' company a bit longer.

[lieutenantsteward]

"Your technique will kill someone," he teases.

He's never been so glad to see his own cabin. He opens the door and takes a moment to ensure that yes, Wynonna is still out, and practically stumbles inside. He sets his pack down to the side and walks to the couch so he can sit there and lean back.

"It is - odd," he huffs. "How quickly this place came to feel like home."

[thedreamer]

It's not a conscious thought necessarily, but as Thomas settles on the couch and the Doctor has a moment to look around at...everything that's made this place more lived in by Thomas and Wynonna, there's a feeling like he's not entirely familiar with it — that word, home.

The TARDIS has always been home, not fully stationary like most homes would be, but it's safe and steady. And sometimes for a while, there are people there. But then so often, it's quiet. Lonely.

He seems unsure where to settle himself — stand, or...sit beside him, but then he opts to sit.

"What makes it feel like home?" He asks softly, genuinely curious. It's important to him, that is...what Thomas thinks and feels.

[lieutenantsteward]

Thomas points to one of the doors. "Through there is my bedroom. It has my trinkets in it. Things I brought from Milton." He points to the other door. "Through there is Wynonna's room. It can be untidy, but I don't touch it. I do bring her clothes there - " he points to a chair. "And I mend them for her by the fire. We sit here together and talk about the others." He turns.

"The kitchen is arranged how I like it. I moved the table from one side to another. This place has markers of me, of Wynonna."

[thedreamer]

He sees it now, the rhythm to it, the routine, the familiarity. In this place of all places, it's not something to take for granted for a single moment. Home, of course, can be anywhere, anything, anyone.

"A life," he smiles softly. "Yours, what you've built already, what you are building. It's..." He looks around again for a moment, to the places Thomas has pointed out, and he can almost hear the chatter here. "Important. Everyone should have it. I'm glad you have it."

[lieutenantsteward]

"A life," he agrees. "But you are too prone to flattery." He stands up, using the Doctor's shoulders to steady himself a bit. "Now, we should get a fire started for you." Thomas, of course, is content to be cold, but he knows that he's the only one. "And you can roast those acorns."

Something to do, some way to move, something to accomplish before he goes and climbs into his big bed to sleep. He's already craving it.

[thedreamer]

"Flattery, you say, but I mean it." To him, it's genuine, but perhaps he overdoes it. He's glad that he and Wynonna both have a home here, somewhere safe, to be able to count on each other. He'd want it for everyone, but especially those he cares for.

Once Thomas is standing, though, he gets up himself, busying himself with getting a fire started. The acorns will roast and eventually, bread can be attempted. In the meantime, he's eager to do whatever will allow Thomas to rest more quickly.

[lieutenantsteward]

The trek has been exhausting and Thomas is more than happy to allow him to take over more and more duties. Stoke the fire, boil water, bring the linens to dry. He eventually settles on the couch again, giving the Doctor assignments and tasks while he takes a break. He doesn't even notice that he's done it until he's comfortable, wrapped in a blanket.

"I think - some tea will do it and then we're done for the evening," he says, looking around in a bit of surprise. "Not - your bark tea. There's proper herbs in the cabinet there, above the sink."

[thedreamer]

It helps him to keep busy like this, working towards something. At the end of it, there will something tangible to show for it — chores done, things settled where they should be, a bit of food cobbled together.

To close out the evening, though, he could think of nothing better than a cup of tea. A good cup. He will privately admit to himself the bark tea leaves...much to be desired.

"Tea — that perfect hug in a cup," he says almost whimsically, sparing a glance and a soft smile at Thomas briefly before he moves to the kitchen and gets the tea going. He's focused on it intently, mumbling things under his breath — snippets of a poem whose entirety he can't quite remember. Anything to pass the minutes while the tea brews, and once it's done, he comes back with a smile, handing the cup over.

"To your liking, I hope." He gives him a little nod and takes the liberty of toasting that cup with his.

[lieutenantsteward]

"It's lovely," he tells him after a toast and a small sip. He breathes out, the warmth of the tea feeling odd against his cool skin. "It isn't the perfect embrace," he remarks. "You were wrong about that."

Thomas sits up, exhaustion seeping into his skin, into his very bones, but he's determined to stay awake for this, for the last bit of drinking tea and talking and enjoying the strange domesticity that they've achieved.

[thedreamer]

"Wrong," he huffs under his breath, swirling his cup, inhaling the aroma, sipping slowly at the warm beverage, enjoying the ritual of it, and the company most of all.

"You can't say I'm wrong without a counter-example. What would be lovelier?" Just as quickly as the words leave him, he holds up a hand and remarks, "No, wait, wait, don't answer," he shakes his head a little, a small smile on his face. "That will be something to look forward to."

An answer that's lived in. Discovered. Found. With some of his usual playfulness along the way.

[lieutenantsteward]

He is about to answer when the Doctor changes his mind and Thomas laughs over the cup of tea. "I think you are wrong about a great many things, sir. But one issue at a time." He takes another drink and, with the blanket wrapped around him as a barrier to his own chilly body, he leans against the Doctor.

"You have great confidence for someone who is still learning how to run a household." Though he can't say that he's disappointed. Everything is perfect, in working order as much as it can be.

As they finished the chores and continued talking, the fire had been their only source of light. As he sips at his tea, however, he notices a different light through the window. Purples and blues and greens and - all manner of colors. The television, forgotten and covered in a blanket to be used as another table, flickers to life, throwing quiet static from underneath the covering. Thomas blinks, startled, turning to see the lights flickering in the kitchen.

"An aurora tonight," he laughs, calming himself slightly.

[thedreamer]

"Now you're just being cheeky," he mock-scoffs and laughs under his breath at the remark about being wrong. "I'll allow it," he teases. Imagine! Wrong about many things, he says.

He would ask more, but the moment turns in a way that's perfectly pleasant, the time passing in companionable motion. Once the lights from the aurora start flickering in through the window, there's something so wondrous and quiet and still about it all. Familiar, too. Beautiful. Until the television flickers on, and now he laughs with Thomas. So much for quiet.

"We nearly have dinner and a movie, Thomas." He sits comfortably close to him, nothing really in the way of space between them. "If we could actually get a signal at all, oh, there'd be all sorts of films to show you. And we'd have popped corn, and...chewy chocolate delights of some sort. And the movie would be, oh...an old fairy tale maybe. Knights and kings and queens and duels and silly things and serious things." He settles, though, letting out a breath, letting himself relax there beside him. The static, for him, is like a pleasing hum while everything briefly comes to life around them.

[lieutenantsteward]

He sits a little closer to him, never quite sure what to do when the electricity starts up again. It's strange, the odd hums and buzzing and flickering just adding to sounds he's never heard before. Not in this sense.

But the Doctor's voice is soothing and Thomas laughs. "Films?" he wonders. "What do you mean?"

[thedreamer]

"Sort of like...theater," he explains. "Performance. Acting out a story on a sort of stage, but captured with a camera, a motion camera. Television, it allows many people to see that sort of performance all at once, from the comfort of home, without going to a theater."

But he has his own preferences. "I do love a good traditional theater show, though, even still."

[lieutenantsteward]

It's not as if Thomas has had the time or the means to see many stage plays. He certainly has snuck into a few theaters here and there and he would watch the puppeteers as a child, but he cna't imagine something as simple to access as the television. The static is such a strange noise, and to think that pictures and people can be on it - well, he's not sure he believes it.

He stands up, blanket still around his own shoulders to protect the Doctor from the cold, and he gestures to the hallway. "My window has a good view of the sky," he tells him. "We can watch there and you can tell me about a show you've seen."