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
Lalo can recognize the logistics of Bigby's statement. It's true. They're both guys. He's been in a locker room before.
Except this isn't a locker room. Bigby isn't naked too. The dynamic is unbalanced. Lalo is keenly aware of when he's at a disadvantage. Not only that, but Bigby isn't just any guy. And not only that, but -- ]
And what if your kid get home?! Eh?! Or your wife? I can't have them seeing me like that! In the middle of your living room! What would that look like? Did you ever think of that?! [ But he sighs, figuring he owes Bigby an explanation. He calls through the door, as he hops into Bigby's pants, one leg at a time. He sounds a little more relaxed now, less angry, but shier, more embarrassed. ]
It's... you don't understand, man, you wouldn't get it. When I'm in a weak spot like that [ the sound of someone toppling over and hitting the floor with a soft grunt ] I can't handle it.
no subject
.. but he doesn't. Because what Lalo says next is actually much more surprising - especially to a guy like Bigby, who has never had to consider before that other people might actually consider nudity a weak spot, rather than a natural state.
Because.. right. Lalo's just human, huh.
Maybe that's why Bigby respects the other's feelings enough to actually stay on this side of the door, even as he hears what's likely Lalo falling down in the least dignified way possible.
Instead there's a slight pause, like the guy's processing the idea of all of this, and then Bigby slowly asks: ]
You think I'd hurt you?
[ It's not necessarily what Lalo is saying, but it's not too far off from it either. It's close enough that he has to ask. ]
no subject
His pride might sting even more though. It's comforting that Bigby didn't see anything, but Lalo knows he heard it. He's grateful that Bigby didn't come charging in, though. Bigby seeing him like this on the floor, after watching him charge naked through the house, would be too much.
The question, though, almost catches him off-guard. Lalo laughs out loud as he climbs to his feet. ]
What? You? Nah! You wouldn't hurt a fly.
[ The door slowly creaks open, gingerly and slowly so as not to smack Bigby in the face, stopping just short of him, and Lalo, wearing an embarrassed smile and fortunately a lot more now, peeks out at Bigby.
He can't help wondering what, if anything, Bigby caught a glimpse of in the seconds before he made a mad dash for Bigby's closet. He tries not to think about that. ]
But it's embarrassing. For people. It's vulnerable. [ Truthfully, back home, Lalo might not have cared, but he isn't home. He doesn't have the power he does at home, and he's in a much more vulnerable position here. That means he has to be a lot more careful. ]
no subject
(Bigby doesn't care to analyze that thought too much, though - and Lalo is already moving on, giving Bigby even more to think about.)
More to think about that makes him stop for a moment. The man releases a breath, and he eyes Lalo as if he's trying to figure something out.
At first it might be hard to determine what Bigby is thinking about, but then he folds his arms across his chest and asks: ]
Is anyone in town giving you shit?
[ N-No, he's not being protective! Also, you're not his friend, Lalo! Totally not!! Don't read into it!!!!! ]
no subject
Lalo's heart sings. The Heavens open and shine down on him. Glitter and sparkles explode inside his chest. Fireworks go off in his brain. He feels like he's ascending.
But none of that shows on the outside. Lalo just gives Bigby a small smile that he can't fully suppress. He does have off Bigby's concerns with his hand, though. ]
Nah, nah, nah! Please. Give me shit. You must be kidding! Who would give me shit?
no subject
You don't want to know how many people give me shit here in town.
[ And he and Lalo do fall into some similar categories, right? Both guys who may not be huge, but still pretty big. Both... middle-aged.. maybe... Does Bigby count when he's an ancient being, just in the body someone in their early 40s?
The difference is just that Bigby thinks Lalo is way more likely to piss someone off with his wild attitude. ]
I kind of assumed they were giving everyone shit. [ Because otherwise it's something about him personally, and Bigby doesn't want to think about that, thanks!! ]
no subject
[ The idea of people giving Bigby shit seems unthinkable to Lalo. His brow furrows in confusion. ] Who?
[ Lalo thinks about it. The only ones who really seem to "give him shit" are Louis. And Rorschach. And Young Bill. And...
Okay, well. Maybe people do give him shit. Lalo drops onto the bed, laying down on his back and staring up at Bigby. ]
To be honest, between you and me, I've just learned to shut up. Here. Around most people. [ Of course Lalo's idea of "shutting up" sometimes means "just not grandstanding". It tears at him more than you'd think, probably more than what's reasonable. Around the people he's safe with, Lalo is as loud and effervescent as ever, but he's learned people here don't like that. ] You can see what these people are like. Yeah? They'll turn on you fast. If they don't like you.
I'm careful who I associated with and shut up around the others. [ He sounds less than pleased about that. Not angry or even sad, but... unhappy in a resigned sort of way. For a moment, the ever-present smile fades. He folds his hands over his chest, shifts his gaze from Bigby to the ceiling. ]
Just how it's gotta be if I want to get home in one piece.
no subject
And though what the other man is saying makes sense, Bigby still huffs a little bit. ]
What do you think they could do to you?
[ Sure, the last town meeting was.. tense, to say the least. But Bigby does like to think the sentiment that people couldn't really help what had happened because of the Darkwalker's influence won out in the end - even if some people were vehement about seeing things their own way.
If this town as a collective turns to wild lynching, he's giving up on it. ]
Drive you out of town for talking too much? C'mon, Lalo, if that was an option, I would've done it several months ago already. [ .. there's a slight pause, and then a sense of good tact - drilled into him by Snow, even if it's not always that effective - seems to kick in enough for him to let out an exasperated sigh and add: ] That was a joke, for the record.
no subject
Really, it's not unlike the position a cat might take if it likes you. Flopping onto its back in front of you. Lalo grins up at Bigby. ]
Thanks, man. I needed that.
[ But the turns serious again. ] Nah, nah. It's...
This is a small town. Nobody's going to get by on their own. Not even me. [ He seems to think he has better odds than most of surviving on his own, which may or may not be true, but Lalo knows that even he won't get by entirely alone. ]
They might cut me off. Stop helping me. Stop letting me help. Send me into the mines to [ he makes a meaningful throat-slitting motion with his hand ]. It could be anything. [ He reaches up to put both hands over his face. ]
no subject
[ Could Bigby imagine some people in this place thinking of that kind of thing by now? Sure, he could. The recent months have proven as much. But he also thinks there's some merit in the fact that it didn't actually happen. As far as he knows, no one has been driven out of town or anything similar to it. ]
Even if a few people might want that to happen to you, you'd need everyone agreeing on it before that sort of thing could really come effective. How do you think a few people are gonna keep you out of town by themselves? [ Bigby stops for a moment, then shakes his head. ]
As long as there's even one person willing to help you, that shit is immediately rendered ineffective. If you've got some people who give a shit about you, then I don't think there's any reason to worry like this.
[ .. not that Lalo seems particularly worried, flopping on Bigby's bed and all.
But Bigby thinks that the other guy wouldn't have brought this up if there wasn't some part of him that was genuinely worried about all of it. ]
no subject
It's not that simple. People here go missing all the time. Who looks for them? Nobody. All it would take is four, five guys -- [ yes, Lalo does think so highly of himself that he believes it would take 4 or 5 people working together to take him down by himself ] -- to decide they need to get rid of me. They'd get me alone, do whatever they wanna do, hide the body...
...and just say I went missing. Or pretend they don't know anything about me, or what happened to me. Who would know?
[ Lalo has never truly had to confront such a lack of power before. ]
no subject
Your brain works in ways that Bigby really doesn't want to think about. In ways it's so telling that the other's mind even goes there at all, when Bigby has never even thought of such a thing in this place. He isn't really sure how to initially deal with this because of it, and the man moves his hand up to rub his forehead for a moment, almost feeling like he's got a headache coming on in the face of Lalo's wild mind. ]
You think that wouldn't have happened already, if it was really likely to happen here?
[ Sure, they sometimes find corpses out of town. But Bigby doesn't think that most people here are likely to do that sort of thing - especially not when he also sometimes runs around at night now, and he hasn't seen anything like that.
He quirks an eyebrow at the other. ]
There's plenty of people who don't like me either. Don't you think they would've done something about that if they wanted to, when I've been here for practically a year?