singillatim | there'll be oats in the water

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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

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

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

Sveta just giggles, and the giggles turn to laughter, and she actually snorts in a very indelicate way from it before holding her hand up to her mouth.

"Ben!"

This is what happens when he's left to his own devices.

"Yes," she says, clearing her throat and nodding seriously. "Tell me more about the social activities of the communities."

Well, the laugh is familiar. He doesn't mind, anymore than he minds when Ray chuckles at him and shakes his head; he's perfectly aware he can be ridiculous. That hardly matters; if anything, he's happy to bring her some amusement. After all, there really can't be any sting when he wholeheartedly believes Sveta's interest. "Well, I'm sure you're familiar with many of them," he begins, as they start up the rocky path to the springs.

He's careful to help her over any tricky spots over the rocks that threaten to turn ankles and bark shins. "Natural hot springs have always been thought to offer major health benefits, from the warmth and minerals in the water. And, of course, because so many people would use them, they'd become a place of casual community, where you might catch up with a friend or discuss problems."

She had started teasing, but as he continues, she finds herself fascinated by him, as she always does. She holds fast to his hand, letting herself manuever carefully around the rocks and tricky parts.

"Ah, there is a study I read once - " She pauses to hop down off of a rock and find her footing. "- that is does improve blood pressure and - vascular function."

He keeps his hand loose around hers as she hops off the rocks, agile as any mountain goat, and watches her with open admiration. Her mind is just as agile as her footing; he could listen to her talk about blood pressure and vascular function all day, knowing he'd learn a great deal. "Very efficient to suggest the hot springs, both as a medical professional and as the woman I'm seeing," he says, straight-faced.

Even Fraser can tease a little. And it's really hardly teasing at all, when he's certain she would prescribe a soak in hot water if she thought it would help with his lingering soreness. "We can enjoy its medical benefits as well as the social ones."

"Ah, the woman you are seeing," she says, walking close and wrapping herself around his arms. "Are you looking forward to the medical benefits or the social benefits more?" she asks, looking perfectly innocent as she stares up at him with her big, doe eyes.

She might be teasing him just a little.

"I didn't want to assume any labels," he points out, but it's mild and amused as he looks down at her. He's a willing prisoner to the hold she has on him with both her arms and those big blue eyes.

She might look perfectly innocent, but he thinks about the potential of those hot springs and feels a flush of warmth under his collar. Fraser coughs and does his best to marshal his thoughts. "Well, the medical benefits might, uh, benefit the. Social... benefits."

That is way too many times to use the word 'benefit.'

Far too many times.

That smile gets wider. As red as she is, as pink as her ears are, she lives to see his even worse.

"Ah, good. Well, I can tell you more about the medicinal benefits of the hot springs and perhaps then we can discuss the - social benefits."

The last leg of the trip is ahead and Sveta pulls away, tugging at his hand to pull him through.

He helps her up the last few meters of the path, then keeps hold of her hand as they move into the caverns themselves, dim and warm. It feels strange to breathe in air that's saturated with warmth and steam; each slow breath makes his lungs feel as though they're opening fully for the first time in weeks. He's thankful for his healed side, allowing him to breathe deeply without more than a twinge.

Their steps echo against the rock, but there's little other sound aside from the gentle drip of water and the rustle of their clothing. They're alone: a prospect both exciting and slightly alarming. Fraser releases her hand and begins undoing his coat; it's too warm in here to wear their outer clothing for long. "Well, I'm sure the warm water and minerals will do both of us some good."

"I think it will," she answers easily, the nerves hitting her now that the teasing is over and they've actually made it to the springs.

"It already feels better in here," she agrees, sitting up and taking off her own coat, setting it on the side. She slips out of her sweater, too, neatly turning her back to fold it.

"The last time you saw me with no coat was when you pulled me from the lake," she reminds him with a soft giggle.

"I remember," he says, with feeling.

He casts a quick glance at the way her hair falls into a soft, staticky cloud as she pulls her sweater over her head, at the graceful line of her shoulders, then hurriedly turns his own back to pull off his own thick woolen sweater. "But I believe any first meeting with you would have stuck in my memory, regardless of situation."

He works at the buttons of his flannel shirt, then shoulders it off and sets it neatly aside.

"Ah, you are prone to too much flattery," she giggles, turning to look over her shoulder at him. Unlike Fraser, though, she doesn't turn away so quickly. She allows herself a moment to indulge, to enjoy, and gives herself permission to stare.

"Are you embarrassed, Ben?"

"No," he chuckles, stripping out of his sleeveless undershirt and folding it before glancing at her over his bared shoulder. "Just trying to be a gentleman."

Despite what Ray might think — and has expressed loudly and at length and on multiple occasions — he's not completely inexperienced when it comes to women, and he's far from unaffected by the allure of bare skin. "Besides, you've already seen me undressed."

Partially, anyway, when she helped him with his injuries.

The humidity and steam from the heated water makes her hair curl slightly and she ties it back from her face with a piece of string. "As a doctor would," she protests. "Nothing more than that!"

She walks over to him and takes his hand, dressed in a tight undershirt and her thermals. "Is that how you want me to think of you?"

He shakes his head and curls his fingers around her hand, squeezing it gently as he looks down at her. "No."

His other hand lifts, tucks a few curling, wayward strands back behind her ear while he studies her face. Her cheeks are pink with the heat from the pools and her hair is bright as sunshine. His hand stays lifted, thumb set lightly against the curve of her cheek as he bends his head and kisses her, sweet and lingering. "It isn't."

It's perfect.

He's perfect.

She stands on her toes to return the kiss, sliding her arms around his neck. "Then you should get in the water," she challenges, grinning.

"Well, I would, but— "

His arms slide around her waist, hands running over the trim undershirt she wears as he smiles down at her. "You'd have to let me finish getting undressed. I don't want to get my clothes wet."

Sveta steps back, fixing him with a Look. "Ah, perhaps that was my intent all along, Ben," she points out, as if it's obvious.

Because for Sveta, it was.

"You are - an extraordinary man."

He shakes his head, chuckling, and bends to remove his boots and socks. "As loathe as I am to contradict you, I think I'm really very ordinary. Certainly in comparison to someone with magic, from your world."

Of course he does his best, and his best is sometimes — often, even — better than baseline, but he's not a great scholar or artist or leader or healer.

He's a little pink in the cheeks as he sets his boots and socks aside and begins undoing the button and fly of his pants, desperately hoping his father won't decide to pop in and observe any of this. "While you can heal people, even without magic. You're very special, Sveta."

"Magic does not make someone extraordinary."

He is a great person, she would argue, which makes him better than anything his profession would make him. She adores him for that.

She loves him for that, which is not a realization she wants to have while she's trying not to stare.

Instead of facing that feeling, she stands beside him, facing the opposite way, and strips down without much commentary so she cam slide into the warm water.

And dammit, it feels good.

"I agree." He looks over as she slips into the water, catching a flash of pink skin and gold hair that makes him swallow before he finishes removing his own clothes and following suit. The water closes over him, and he lets himself sink below it for a long moment before surfacing in a warm wave. He runs his hand over his hair and face to wipe the water away, then shifts a little closer to her.

"This feels nice."

She watches and catches more than just skin and hair. Enough that she looks away immediately until she hears the sound of the water.

When he settles, she moves closer to him, glad for the dim lighting inside. She leans her head against his shoulder. "Of course it does. When was the last time you were this warm?"

Steam clings to her hair, condensing into glittering beads on the gently curling strands. He finds it hard to look away from her, and also can't think of a reason why he would. "I don't remember," he says, honestly.

"Before I came here, I was living in Chicago. It was winter, and even inside you could feel the chill to the air."

Especially in his apartment, where he kept the windows open even in the worst of the weather. The smell of snow on the air reminded him of home. "I guess I've just been used to the cold all my life."

"Now you can be warm," she says, turning and wrapping her arms around his neck so she can slide up against him. "I miss being warm. I like sitting by the fire, but there's always a part of me that is cold. Here, there isn't."

The flush on his cheeks isn't entirely from the warmth as she slides close to him, bare skin pressing to his beneath the water as he puts his arms around her in return. "I'll do my best to keep you warm," he promises.

It's not as hard as he would have thought to keep thoughts of a blizzard and a poem and a lean-to made out of his coat against the side of a mountain out of his side with Sveta here in his arms.

She pulls him into a gentle kiss, her fingers through his hair. "I know. You take care of me, Ben. You take care of me so that I can take care of other people. I only - hope that I take care of you in the same way."

there'll be oats in the water

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