it must be that old evil spirit

[singmod]

SEPTEMBER 2024 EVENT

PROMPT ONE — PAINFUL REMINDERS: An Aurora briefly connects the Interlopers to their homeworlds, and with it are able to receive items from home — but these ones will bring no comfort to them.

PROMPT TWO — THE ENEMY WITHIN: Strange and familiar occurrences begin in Milton and Lakeside, growing in frequency and danger for the Interlopers. Who can truly be trusted among their numbers?

PROMPT THREE — BAD BLOOD: The Forest Fighters finally come to Milton, and with it: they bring the yawning grave.

PAINFUL REMINDERS

WHEN: 5th - 9th of September.
WHERE: Everywhere.
CONTENT WARNINGS: potentially upsetting themes; themes of loneliness/isolation.

For many, the sight of the Aurora is now one they have become used to. There have been plenty of them over the year that has passed since the Interlopers first came to the Northern Territories. Often, they have been a sign of great danger, with plenty of unsettling and unnatural things happening when the skies light up. Other times they have been the herald of aid — a link between Interlopers and Enola, gifting them with abilities to help them survive in this world. There is no real knowing what kind of force the Aurora is, truly. And there is a tension that holds amongst the Interlopers as the day turns to night and there is the soft sound that grows louder.

The ethereal, high-pitched chorus of sounds, is difficult to place. Perhaps it sounds like voices, or discordant strings. And with it, the low-drone of electrical buzz — punctuated with the echoing pops and sharp cracks. The sky is alive with sound, and with it comes the swirling streaking of colour against the inky black of night, growing brighter and brighter as time goes on — greens, blues, pinks and purples shifting and dancing across the night. And much like every Aurora before this one, the electricals of the world come to life too. Homes, streetlamps, cars long-stranded in the snow. Man’s world comes alive, buzzing and flickering precariously.

But there are no ghosts like there once was a year ago. No terrible weather, no poisonous fog. If one could call it a ‘normal’ Aurora, that’s what it appears to be. But there is something else in amongst all the light and noise. Snatches of things: whispers of conversations, names called, laughter and tears.

You realise you recognise these voices. They are the voices of home. Perhaps you hear your mother, your siblings or friends. Whoever they are, you can hear them. And although they might not be able to hear you — for one brief night, the Aurora has connected you, bridged the gap between your world and this one. You may sit for a while, simply listening to the voices, relishing in hearing those from back home. If others join you, you will find yourself compelled to speak of them: to share in stories about those from back home — the connections you share with them.

It’s strange, though. These voices do not fill you with comfort or joy. Instead you are left with feelings of sadness, anger, and isolation. The Aurora has connected Interlopers, but now you feel so cut off from home, cut off from friends and loved ones — reminded of everything left behind. Everything you long for. Everything you have lost.

Something strange skips through the sky, a warping of the sound. It’s unsettling. Something feels... wrong, somehow.

It’s not just the voices that will remind you of this. Something else comes through the Aurora after that night. A small token will be brought through. Whatever the item may be, when you go to sleep and next wake, you will find said item. It may be placed on your bedside, on your desk or dining room table.

The item, you will find, will bring you a reminder of pain. Of sadness. Of horror. Perhaps it’s something you haven’t thought of in some time. Maybe it is something that has lingered in the back of your mind. Perhaps it is a part of you, waiting to be uncovered. A sign of something to come. A painful reminder of your past, or an ominous omen of your future.

THE ENEMY WITHIN

WHEN: The month of September.
WHERE: Everywhere.
CONTENT WARNINGS: kidnapping/attempted kidnapping; attempted murder; murder; vandalism; arson; assault; animal mutilation; corpse mutilation/manipulation/desecration; themes of peril/terror; possible character/npc injuries; possible character/npc death.

It starts with strange happenings at night, things left to be found by the next morning. Those within Lakeside many find themselves unsurprised by it, given their location, but the scenes found in Milton are a foreboding sight.

Mutilated bodies of animals: rabbits, ptarmigans, even deer — mangled and strewn about the streets, blood upon the snow. Some may awaken in the middle of the night to the sounds of their windows breaking, with houses on the Outskirts being targeted more than those in the middle of town. There is… a kind of unrest in the world.

It escalates.

Some may leave their home for the day and return in the evening to find the place trashed: items broken, precious foodstuffs thrown about the place and destroyed. Those within the Outskirts are once again particularly vulnerable, as are those within Lakeside. Fires are started in some of the abandoned buildings of Milton. Something, someone is targeting the Interlopers.

It is hard to pin-point who exactly, and it only puts the Interlopers on high alert. Nothing like this has never happened before. This is new, especially in Milton.

As the month progresses, the acts become more serious. Fires may be started in the middle of the night in Interlopers’ homes while they sleep. Some are attacked in the night, others are taken from their beds. Some killed within their very homes. Of the Interlopers that go missing, their mutilated remains may be found days later out in the wilds.

In Milton, soon enough, someone is bold enough to come out from the darkness, out from the gloom of the night. Interlopers may be attacked in broad daylight — by those they may recognise as newer Interlopers of the community, who appeared from the wilds: lost and shivering, with nowhere else to go. Some of them have been within Milton for a few months now.

Those in Lakeside will face something similar: Forest Talkers are making a move, rogue and isolated incidents — done with sabotaging attempts at hunting and taking a more direct approach.

They have no qualms about being captured or killed, only determined to get rid of as many of the Interlopers as they can. They whisper, they scream: “You don’t belong here. You should never have come here. It wants you gone, it wants us all gone. The end is here, it’s too late for any of us. Nature must run its course. The yawning grave has been opened.”

The attack is on two fronts: the first of Forest Talkers in Lakeside amplifying their actions. The second in Milton, enemies within the ranks of the Interlopers, Forest Talkers hiding as Interlopers.

Within Milton, newer Interlopers will likely be met with suspicion as being some of the Forest Fighters as a result of these individual acts of violence. As the numbers of Milton have been infiltrated, and it’s easy to have mistrust amongst those newer to the community. In-fighting is likely, and the entire town is stuck in some terrible, tense state — unsure of who to trust within their own numbers. In the days and weeks that follow, it remains like this. Acts of violence and vandalism — chaos and disorder.

BAD BLOOD

WHEN: The night of 27th - 28th September.
WHERE: Milton.
CONTENT WARNINGS: attempted murder; murder; vandalism; arson; assault; mentions of blood; themes of peril/terror; possible character/npc injuries; possible character death/npc death; actual NPC death.

Towards the end of the month, the moon is full. They call it the Harvest Moon, but colour seeps into it — oranges and reds: a blood moon, partially eclipsed. The night is calm and cloudless, but there’s an uneasy feeling in the night.

The earth groans, the rumble of another quake that’s plagued the Northern Territories since the beginning of August. It is the only warning Interlopers will get — if they may realise it as a warning. To some, when they look back, it’s a omen, a starting pistol.

They do not come through the Mines. Thanks to the efforts of Interlopers to guard the entrances of the Milton Mines, they know better. They come to town from the south, not the north.
The quakes of August and September have opened a new way from Lakeside to Milton. They are led by their Leader: a man dressed in white, a large deer skull upon his head. And while their numbers are small in comparison, they come armed and with the determination to get rid of the Interlopers once and for all. As they come into town, they launch their attack.

More fires will be set, Interlopers will be attacked with abandon. Shot at, stabbed, beaten. It is a mass execution. They will not stop until the Interlopers, or them, are dead.

Well, the majority of them. There are just under a dozen teenagers and younger people amongst their ranks who have shown hesitance toward violence in the past. Perhaps they can be reasoned with. Perhaps there may be a way to convince them to abandon their cause. There is fear in their eyes. Some of them do not want to die. They fear the yawning grave.

What will do you then, Interloper? Are you willing to fight for your life? Are you willing to take another’s to save your own, or a friends? Will you hide, or run? What choice will you make? The Forest Talkers have long since made their own choice. Now you must make yours.

It is another night of chaos on a town already scarred by the events of June. Interlopers will note two familiar faces in the fray: at some point during the night both Methuselah and Young Bill will arrive. While Methuselah will concentrate on aiding the wounded and trying to shelter Interlopers the best he can, Young Bill will help protect Interlopers from the Forest Talkers with his rifle in hand. But fortunately, it is just for one single night. Ammunition runs out, sides are switched, and people are killed. As dawn approaches, Forest Talker numbers dwindle. Either killed, incapacitated or defected. In the early morning light, bodies lie in the snow both Interloper and Forest Talker alike.

Those trying to hunt down the leader will see him slipping inside an empty cabin, heavily wounded. Following after him, they will find him settling himself down to kneel on the floor. The white of his tactical gear stained red with blood as it blooms from his wounds. Slowly, he removes the deer skull from his head to reveal a clean-shaven man in his late twenties with a shock of white-blond hair. His eyes are blue, calm.

He sets the skull down, panting and sweating. He is dying. He is not afraid.

“My name is Mallory, not that it matters now. We are dead, you and I.” he says softly. “We exist in a dying world.”

He is in much pain from his wounds. He moves again to sit cross-legged on the floor. A hand touches the bloodied fabric of his front and he laughs humourlessly.

“You don’t understand, do you? The end must come. That is the order of things. The end must come so the world can be reborn. That is how it’s always worked. When the world is swallowed, it will grow again from the earth.”

It is a story. The story of the Darkwalker. Some believe it to be the end of the world, but Young Bill had once said there is another telling of the tale. A creation myth. The Darkwalker swallows the world and returns to its slumber within the earth. Within it, everything its swallowed grows again and the world returns.

“We fought against man’s actions to ruin this place, not knowing our true purpose. The Devourer has shown me the truth, and I sought to put that into action.” His head tilts to one side. “The yawning grave is opened. Does new life not grow from the decay? It is a cycle. The grave and the cradle.”

He finds it difficult to breathe, but he presses on.

“You fight to live. You come here and you do not see what you are. You are only delaying the inevitable, perverting the true course. Prolonging the suffering. You are the Interlopers, you are not part of nature’s design. The Darkwalker does not want you here. And where it fails, we have tried to succeed.”

There’s another laugh, something catching in his throat. He coughs, blood bubbling from his lips.

“And failed. For now. The First Cursed cannot hold it forever. She, too, delays the inevitable." Even as he is dying, he still have the energy to sneer. He speaks of Enola. "A woman who plays at being a god. What right does she have? All must go into the Long Dark. ... As will I. Return me to the grave.”

Mallory’s head dips, his body sagging. He inhales once more and then stops.

FAQs

PAINFUL REMINDERS


1. Players must sign up for items. See the toplevel on the plotting post.

2. Items will face the same warps/nerfs as everything else that is brought into the game.

3. Items can be no bigger than something your character can reasonably carry.

4. While items do not have to belong to your character, there has to be a good reason why they’d receive such an item — ie. something related to your character.


THE ENEMY WITHIN

1. The Forest Talkers within Milton are a number of NPCs that have been pre-selected from NPCs who arrived in April and August. Not all of them will show their true intentions as the month goes on but will continue to stay hidden.

2. Two NPCs killed in the June Event were also Forest Talkers. … Good… job?

3. The following NPC Interlopers will out themselves as Forest Talkers at this stage: Devon Busswood; Rita Yee; Realm Lovejoy.


BAD BLOOD

1. Following the events of this prompt, Interlopers now have an additional way into Lakeside. It’s still rather dangerous: it’s through a partially collapsed cave system that ends into abandoned bunker on the Lakeside side. The game map will be marked accordingly in due course.

2. Some Interlopers may recognise a familiar face in the Forest Talker ranks: the man who was kidnapped by Interlopers previously in July has returned. Looks like he made good on his promise. He's come back to cause problems.

3. The following NPC Interlopers will out themselves as Forest Talkers during the attack: Jackie Blackmore; Ross Huguet; Jennifer Kitchen; Daniel Kresco.

4. As a reminder of numbers: around fifty Forest Talkers will show up for the attack.

5. There is an OOC vote on the fate of the remaining Forest Talkers, the link is here.

PLOTTING POST

Comments

Benton Fraser | Due South | all prompts OTA

[maintiensledroit]

Painful Reminders

[ He knows this color. Verdemist green, a particular shade of light forest green with just a hint of olive, one of two greens used on the 1971 model of the Buick Riviera. It coats one side of the twisted piece of steel he'd found next to his bedroll when he awoke. Fraser runs his fingers lightly over the bullet hole punched neatly through the metal, thinking about the voices he'd heard the night before. His father, his grandparents... Ray Vecchio, loudest and most insistent of them all.

He has no context for the piece of Ray's car that has found its way here. He takes it out onto the porch and into the weak winter sun, forgoing the steaming cup of coffee beside him in favor of studying it. There are a few facts he can determine with relative ease: the bullet came from a .38 caliber pistol, consistent with his own sidearm. The warping suggests the car had exploded, not simply crashed; that assumption is consistent with the scorch marks that leave smudges of residue on his fingers. When he brings his fingertips to his nose, touches them delicately to his tongue, he can smell, taste the acrid fumes of gasoline.

He's careful with the metal, treating it as gently as he might a delicate photograph as he turns it over and over in his hands. Normally, he'd be alert and responsive to anyone stopping by for a cup of coffee or a chat.

Today, he sits on the porch, deep in thought, not noticing any new arrivals until Diefenbaker shifts, makes a small sound, and brings him out of his reverie. ]

Bad Blood

[ Milton is chaos.

He hears the sharp report of gunfire, the crackle of flame; smells smoke and blood on the air. Diefenbaker has already tackled one Forest Talker; the wolf snarls as the man yells and struggles. A quick kick to his jaw outs the man out, but Diefenbaker is still loathe to leave him behind.

He must, though, because that man was hardly the only intruder, and the people of this town need help. Fraser runs through the hubbub, stopping here and there to help an Interloper up and to safety, his voice calm even as he pitches it louder to be heard. ]

You're alright. I have you.

[ Diefenbaker guards their backs, then leaps into a run when Fraser gently deposits the person down and turns back to the fray. Everywhere he goes, he tries to calm, to assure, a cardinal-bright figure attempting to stem the flood of violence. It doesn't wholly work — soon enough his knuckles are bruised and bloody from Forest Talkers he's forced to subdue — but some of them back away from fighting, skittish, their eyes huge and unsure. These younger Forest Talkers seem less inclined to mindless violence, and to them he lifts his hands, open, placating. ]

It's alright. You don't have to do this. I can help you.

Wildcard

[ plotting post | repeatandfade | blueofthebay @ disco ]

( painful reminders )

[webshootings]

[ It's just a bottle of milk. That's all it is, a bottle of milk that's probably expired and gross and absolutely not fit for consumption.

But, when Peter had gotten up this morning, it had been the first thing he'd seen and now, he can't seem to let go of it. He's just been wandering aimlessly around, bottle of milk in hand, throat tight and images ping ponging around his mind.

He doesn't even know where he's walked to when he comes up to a somewhat familiar man on a porch. He stops, knowing he has to say something instead of just staring.

Peter swallows and his eyes feel gritty, like they're about to well up. ]

Hey, man. Everything okay?

[maintiensledroit]

[ Fraser glances up, blinking, before he straightens up in his seat. It's... Peter Parker, a young man he hasn't spoken with before, but Ben makes a point of keeping track of everyone's names and faces. It never hurts to know one's neighbors, and indeed often helps.

Perhaps that's a philosophy about to be put to the test. ]

Ah, yes. Thank you for asking.

[ His smile is only a flicker, but he sets the piece of metal aside after turning it over in his hands one last time. His glance moves to the bottle of milk the young man is carrying, and his brow furrows in confusion. ]

Did that...

[ It isn't from Milton. Not only has there not been fresh milk here for likely over a year, any milk that might be found would like be in a bag. ]

Where did that come from?

[webshootings]

I don't know.

[ But that's a lie, isn't it? He knows exactly where it had come from. His fingers tighten around the cold glass and he looks down at it. ]

It wasn't here yesterday. I think — I don't know. It wasn't here yesterday.

[ He's babbling, not making sense and he knows it. Peter shakes his head. ]

It just showed up. I haven't had milk in a long time and it just showed up. How does that happen?

[maintiensledroit]

I'm not sure anything 'just shows up' here.

[ In fact, he's nearly certain of it. The item he received was too pointed, too precise a blow to be pure happenstance.

The younger man seems caught in the undertow of his own thoughts as he stares at the milk bottle, and Fraser shifts, facing him a little more directly, offering him a lifeline of words. They may not be much, yet, but he's simply trying to give the younger man some direction, something to grab onto. ]

It's Peter Parker, isn't it?

Bad Blood

[guidemyway]

[It's been a chaotic fight to say the least. Ruby had taken some hits from Forest Talkers well before things got this point but she still hated that it had turned into brawl in the end.

She was out with scythe and gun doing her best to fend off the attackers, and protect the people she cared for. But there was a moment where she caught sight of Frasier lifting a hand and offering friendship that gave her a moment of pause. She felt a little lighter seeing someone else advocating for peace and she moved to set her weapons aside just fora moment.]

He's right, We don't want to fight, not if we can avoid it.

[maintiensledroit]

[ The young man startles at the sight of Ruby, then looks warily between them, gauging whether or not they're flanking him. Fraser stops where he is, his own hands held up. ]

We are not your enemies.

[ Not that it exactly seems to be about that. The Forest Talkers aren't attacking out of rage or hatred; there's something cold about it, as if they're simply pest exterminators.

The young man hesitates, glances at Ruby and her scythe, unsure. ]

[guidemyway]

[Ruby glances between the young men, and Fraser. She realizes pretty quick the tension is focused on her scythe. She shifts for a moment and wished that her weapon was able to transform as reliably as it had back in her own world. As she she moves to grab the strap she's attached to it and moves to fold hang it over her shoulder before raising up her own hands.]

He's right. We don't want to hurt you, or anyone for that matter. We want to do what we can to protect this place, this world if we can.

[She's not exactly sure what will get through to them at this point, but she's about ready to throw anything at the wall to see if it'll stick.]

[maintiensledroit]

[ He nods to Ruby as she puts her weapon aside, grateful for her astuteness. The young Forest Talker doesn't fully relax, but something in the way he's holding himself turns from tense to simply uncertain. He can't be much older than the girl.

Fraser continues to pitch his voice low and steady, keeping his eyes on the younger man. ]

We know about the Yawning Grave. But I don't believe we need to tip this world into destruction. I think it's always worthwhile to protect life: yours as well as ours.

Painful Reminders

[solitarysoul]

[Levi is more on edge today than usual, having already found and disposed of his object. He's not sure if the fact that other people seem to also have pieces of home makes him feel better or worse, but he can't help but be curious about what other people got.

Something important, apparently, in Fraser's case. Levi pauses near the mountie's porch, waiting for for Diefenbaker to make a noise and bring Fraser back to reality before speaking up.]

...what is that?

[maintiensledroit]

[ Fraser glances up, then looks down again at the piece of metal in his hands as if seeing it for the first time. ]

Well, I don't want to jump to any conclusions, but it seems to be a piece of a car. From over the fuel tank, would be my guess.

[ He lifts the charred, twisted piece of wreckage for Levi to see, turning it so light shines through the bullet hole. ]

Whether this is deliberate or not depends a great deal on whether my initial assumption is correct. I think someone shot this car, and it exploded.

[solitarysoul]

[A part of a car? That's kind of odd, but if its got Fraser this focused on it it can't just be any car.]

Was it your car?

[maintiensledroit]

No.

[ He shakes his head, flipping the piece in his fingers to run the pad of his thumb over the charred green paint. There are still some glossy patches where his nail pulls up a thin film of wax. ]

I believe — or I'm being led to believe — it's part of my friend's car. Detective Ray Vecchio.

[ He takes a quick, cleansing breath, like a man surfacing from being underwater, and looks over at Levi with a small, complicated smile. ]

He loves this car.

bad blood

[bigbaddy]

[ Bigby groans. Judging by the very red spot on the side of his head, a Forest Talker must have gotten him pretty good - hit him with something hard, likely - but he's still rising to his feet all the same when Fraser moves to help him to do so. ]

I am fine. [ It sounds almost like he's shrugging off the help, yet he's not fully doing that. Actions speak louder than words when it comes to Bigby, and despite the fact that he sounds kind of annoyed - a side-effect at him being mad he didn't get to take revenge on that specific Forest Talker - he is allowing Fraser to put his hands on him, not pushing the other man away. ]

You shouldn't be out here.

[ Even if Bigby knows what Fraser's line of work is, he's also constantly seen the other be.. well, kind of geeky, and definitely way nicer than Bigby himself.

Not a person who should be out here in the middle of this chaos right now. ]

Neither should Dief. You guys could get hurt. It's fucking hell out here right now.

[maintiensledroit]

Well, I hate to be contradictory, Bigby, but I disagree.

[ There are a number of Interlopers who seem to take pride in their toughness and fighting ability, and he assumes all of those are out in force. But they aren't the only ones here who can hold their own.

They could get hurt, yes, but look who's the hurt one here and now? ]

Dief and I are perfectly capable.

[ He helps Bigby up, keeps a hand at the man's back in case he sways, in case his balance starts to go. ]

How's your vision?

[bigbaddy]

Are you gonna ask me to count how many fingers you're holding up? [ Bigby says - a touch dryly, though there's something serious about his tone and his body language that doesn't seem to fade. Like he's on such high alert while still in the middle of this situation that he can't just drop that serious attitude, not even while talking with someone he actually trusts.

Even if Fraser hadn't already been here for long enough that he couldn't be one of the traitors, Bigby is pretty sure he would have trusted the other to not be one anyway.

Thankfully Bigby doesn't seem to sway. The man is sucking in deep breaths like he's still recovering from the blow, but he seems capable enough of standing on his own feet. ]

I'm fine. Just-- fucker got me from behind. Feels like they're everywhere right now.

[maintiensledroit]

Should I?

[ He asks it seriously, with every intention of doing exactly that if Bigby suspects there's more to his injury.

But he's right: they do seem to be everywhere, the Forest Talkers, striking with the violence Fraser had hoped they'd be able to avoid. ]

All the more reason for you not to be re-entering the fray at anything less than your full capability. Let me take you to Svetlana.

[ Who has been working as hard as he has, trying to take care of everyone's wounds and injuries. Worried as he is, he knows better than to ask her to be mindful of her own limitations during a crisis like this, but he's been making a point of returning to check on her as often as he can. ]

painful reminders

[sputnik]

[ It's early, and Konstantin doesn't expect to come across anyone else awake. His trek along Thompson's Drive is slower than his usual jogs would be, hands shoved into the front pockets of his coat, gait almost a trudge. He hasn't gotten much sleep, his mother's whispers still fresh in his mind. Lidia finally stopped speaking, and instead of the relief he wishes he could feel, there's only a deep, deep ache. A mourning like that of a death.

The medal he found this morning at his bedside shines as brightly as it did when he last saw it, but all he feels from it is darkness. It's kept in his pocket, where he can't see it anymore. He doesn't know what to do with it.

It's as he's passing Fraser's home that he catches a subtle glimpse of movement, and realises the man's out there on his porch (really, not too much of a surprise, considering Fraser seems to be one of the few in this place who can match Konstantin's affinity for early rising...) Usually he'd brighten at the sight of the younger man; he always enjoys chatting with him, but there's an odd pause in the center of his chest today. He doesn't know how to pretend, right now. How to pretend to be that bright, amiable person. Everything feels very heavy.

But he's already within sight, even if it doesn't seem like Fraser's actually noticed him; he appears to be looking at something. It's Dief that alerts his presence with a soft sound, and then Konstantin's drawing to a halt at the bottom of his stair with a head-tip of greeting. ]

Constable. I should've known you'd be up, too. [ He still manages a smile, even if it's quiet, subdued, and his eyes roam the sheet of metal that Fraser's got in his hands. ]

Working on a new project?

[maintiensledroit]

[ Ben blinks like a man surfacing from a dream, looking up at the newcomer with a faintly blank expression. There's a moment before he gives himself a little shake, trying to find some semblance of his usual manners.

He enjoys Konstantin, appreciates his company, but it's clearly come as a surprise to him this morning. ]

Commander. I'm sorry, I didn't hear you come up.

[ He looks back down at the thing in his hands like he'd forgotten it was there, then glances back up at the other man. ]

Ah, no. This simply...

[ He trails off, unsure how to explain it, what he even could explain. ]

It just appeared.

[sputnik]

[ Fraser is one of the few that calls him by the title, here — and one of the few for whom titles seem to still mean something. Konstantin always finds himself drawn back more to the concept, around the straight-laced younger man. Emboldened, a little, even if right now it's more difficult to see that. Constable. Commander. Terms not just said as respect, but... as an awareness of someone's identity. It's important, isn't it? He should let his own go, the medal means nothing anymore, but he put it in his pocket all the same.

The thing is, right now he's not sure what he should be running away from. But in the immediate moment, there's something else to think about, to focus on — he watches Fraser react to him with a fogginess that isn't typical of him. Something distant, distracted.

Then he understands. 'It just appeared.'

Konstantin stares down to the piece of metal again, realisation not quite clearing things up — why are these items appearing for them now? — but at least it introduces a pattern to the equation. He's not the only one, and... he's sure he already knows the answer, but he asks as he takes a curious step closer. ]

It's something you recognise?

[maintiensledroit]

Yes, I think so.

[ Or, at least, he's certain whatever force brought the thing here and left it for him to find meant for him to think he recognized it. He can't make assumptions about where it's from or whether it means what he thinks it means. He can't think too hard about the voices that murmured to him throughout the night, or the poem that won't leave his head this morning. That way lies only madness.

Whatever else, he has to believe the wind is still blowing southerly, and that he can still tell a hawk from a handsaw.

So he takes a quick, refreshing breath in and straightens, holding out the piece of metal for the other man's inspection. There's nothing very remarkable about it, really, aside from the way it's been twisted and charred. Aside from the bullet hole punched straight through. ]

This green paint is a perfect match for a car I know well, and the steel is consistent with that same car's construction.

[ He licks briefly at his lip, his glance falling to the metal for a moment before he drags it back up again to meet Konstantin's. ]

The car belongs to my friend. My best friend, really. Detective Ray Vecchio.

[ He doesn't talk about Ray, much, but it isn't because he doesn't deeply miss his friend. If anything, it's the opposite: Ray means too much to him, is kept safely tucked away, the way his own father tucked away all his personal thoughts and feelings into the pages of his journals. ]

He loves this car. If something were to happen to it... well. Suffice to say he's unlikely to have willingly allowed it.

Painful Reminders

[salamanca]

[ Lalo gives a casual wave when Fraser finally looks up. He stops to pet Dief, if Dief will let him. Ulfrún, trotting at Lalo's side, goes up to say hello to her dad.

Only Lalo's eyes betray that he's not as cheery as always. There's something longing inside there; something said.

He hears Fring's voice sometimes. Over and over. Speaking not to him, but to Hector. Listing all of his dead relatives. Many of them were alive the last time Lalo was in his own world.

Not that he can explain any of that to Fraser, but you know what they say. Misery loves company. Lalo sits down beside him without waiting for an invitation; he likes to think he knows Fraser well enough to believe the other man won't mind. ]

Did this place give you a gift too? [ The lighthearted tone of Lalo's voice doesn't match the grief in his eyes. ] Here. Check out what I got. [ He removes an object from his pocket to show to Fraser while the wolves play: a hotel bell. ]

Yours looks fancier. [ He indicates the object in Fraser's hands. ]

bad blood

[cactusy]

Listen to the man.

[Says a low voice to his right, as Shaw steps up to flank him. Her handgun is at the ready, but not aimed; her body language isn't all-out threatening, but it's still aggressive enough to make the young Forest Talker shrink back a little more. Were you looking for a 5'2'' powerhouse to play bad cop to your good cop, Frasier? Because you've got one either way.]

Stand down, and we won't have a problem. But you even think about planting that knife in an innocent person, and you'll catch a bullet between the eyes.

this is so late I deeply apologize!

[maintiensledroit]

[ The bad cop hero he needed! Fraser keeps his eyes on the young man, keeping his own voice level and steady.

In many ways, this suddenly feels like he's back on the streets of Chicago, Ray Vecchio at his side. This newcomer isn't his hot-tempered colleague, but it seems she'll play the part of enforcer just as perfectly. ]

I'd listen to her, son. We can resolve this without anyone getting hurt. All I ask is you put down your weapon.

[ The Forest Talker glances between them, grip tightening on his blade, before his shoulders slump and his hands lower. Fraser gives it a second, then slowly reaches out to lift the weapon away from the young man's hands. ]

Thank you kindly.

backtags are my lifeblood, no worries!

[cactusy]

[Shaw, still in tiny firecracker mode, bounces a little on her heels as she watches this go down, fully ready to jump in and enforce if the guy pulls any fast moves. Luckily for everyone, though, the exchange goes down smoothly, and they now have a fully-defanged young Forest Talker on their hands.]

We should probably protect him, I guess.

[She says, sounding resigned; she doesn't particularly want to babysit an enemy turncoat, but she's pretty sure it's the right thing to do. It's what John and Harold would want her to do, anyway, and those things nearly always one and the same.]