singillatim | open | you were a wanderer...

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open | you were a wanderer...

Who: Casper Darling and YOU
What: Open Post for February/March
When: All of February going into March, can be back-dated to January if need be
Where: Mostly around Milton!

Content Warnings: None yet, will update as needed.

i. settling in
A few months back, one Casper Darling decided it was best to strike out on his own. And so, here he is now down the street from his previous residence, settling in to 22 Thompson's Drive. It's a very cozy little wood cabin! Lots of room to sit and look out at the snow, or have a nice cup of (very watered down) instant coffee. Plenty of room by the fire, if someone needed to come in and warm themselves (especially after that nasty storm in January). Or hide from a bear. Doors are open to all, please come by and say hello.

ii. community hall
Casper is working on being more social. Really, he is. He's spent too much time locked away with his research and his thoughts, he needs to get out and meet people more. The last time he'd really been social was that party, oh when was it. November? October?? Far too long.

That's why one might find him sitting around the Community Hall. Usually with one of his notebooks, scribbling something down. Or reading some battered and waterlogged paperback he found somewhere. If approached, however, he will more than happily set his things aside in order to converse with whoever wants to chat.

iii. around milton
Sometimes, science requires being in the out-of-doors! Find Dr. Darling staring up at the night sky and making notes, or poking at the odd piece of crumbled road that was affected by one of the quakes. Maybe he's making (or trying to make) a hole in the ice at the lake to see how thick it is. (It is very thick, and he is rarely successful in his ventures.) Regardless of where one might come across him, feel free to bother him or lend a hand in... whatever it is he's doing.

iv. wildcard
[ooc: nothing catching your fancy? throw something at me! or hit me up on plurk to suggest something ♥ ]

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How long had it been since Sansa had last danced? Was it the festival several months back? It feels almost like a lifetime ago – many things have happened since, most of it blurring together into a frenzied mess. Faces and places and memories all — some have lost themselves in the snow.

Sansa doesn't want to think too deeply on the future, if the snow should continue to be as heavy and deadly as it is now. She has new needles, bright and shiny and sharp, and a whole basket of thread that will hold better than the scraps she's been using since she'd arrived. There are clothes ever needing mending at the community hall, and Sansa is more than happy to return to her routine.

Happier still to see Doctor Darling enter the building, fresh snow powdering his shoulders just so. Sansa's face lights up with an honest smile; here is one of her first friends in Milton, and she's pleased to see him whole and alive.

"Doctor!" She calls out, walking quickly to him and catching him by an elbow. "You're safe and well, I'm so glad to know of it. Are you— why have you come? Are you in need of aid?"

"Oh, Lyanna!" Darling smiles happily at being caught by his young friend. He's even gotten over his initial startlement at seeing that shock of red hair. (Jesse Faden isn't here, she's most likely at home, it's fine.)

"And Lady, of course, hello to both of you. I am safe and well, yes. Though spending too much time at home, probably. Glued to my notes. No, I came to see people. I've sort of become a hermit, I'm sorry to say.

But it really is good to see you. How have you been doing? Should we see if there are any spare tea bags lying around? I could make something warm for us."

"I've gotten ahead of you, I'm afraid," Sansa confesses, having the embarrassment to bow her head and hide the blooming grin on her face. "I've set the kettle to boil, and made up a fresh pot for the day. If I'd known you would be here—!"

She could have scrounged up biscuits from somewhere. They might be more stale than she prefers, and they certainly can't compare to lemon cakes freshly baked, but what of it, if she's in good company? Doctor Darling certainly deserves it, especially if he means to say he's been keeping alone for so long.

Sansa pulls him aside to a set of chairs by the window, as has become her wont of late. There are signs of her all over one of the chairs, and the small table by it; an open tin with scraps of cloth to match with certain garments, and a needle cushion, and an assortment of spools, varying stages of empty each.

Her preference today are socks; they're woefully in need of them, and Sansa cannot make enough.

"Sit with us, please," she invites him, as Lady raises her head just slightly before flopping back onto the warmed wood floors. "Tell me what you've been reading. Even hermits need entertain themselves, don't they?"

"You're so sweet, thank you. I will join you." He does take off his outer layers, shedding jacket, hat, and gloves. Leaving him in the cardigan Sansa had so thoughtfully mended for him. The photograph had since been moved to a drawer in his desk, so he didn't lose it so easily, again.

His messenger bag gets set next to the chair as he settles in, rubbing his hands together. "We do, at that. I found most of a mystery novel not too long ago, actually. I'm trying to read slowly so I don't run out of book too soon. Maybe if you're reading something, we can trade when we're done?"

It pleases her a terrible amount to see her stitches worn down smooth on the Doctor Darling's cardigan. Sansa has learned early on that a sign of fondness for a garment is in the threads, in the seams — what else says that a shirt or surcoat is beloved than the softening of its embroidery, or the fraying of its hem?

She sees the start of it over the mended patch on Darling's cardigan. Mended by her hand, no less. With hands primly set upon her lap Sansa leans forward to hear Darling better. "There is a book of... fairy tales? Children's stories, by a Ser Andersen. I found a copy in one of the empty houses, though some of the pages have stuck together and the ink smudged unreadable.

Do you know of him? Have you read his works? There are stories about wolves among the text, but the wolves often die." Sansa mislikes that part otherwise, to her dismay. "What is your mystery about? Have you solved it?"

Truly, he appreciates and admires the little floral addition to his cardigan. It's not something he would have thought of himself, either to do (his needlework is terrible) or to ask for, which makes it all the more special to him.

"Oh yes! Yes, yes. The Little Mermaid is probably my favourite of his that I remember. He had a much kinder version of most fairytales, certainly, than The Brothers Grimm. Very grisly endings in those.

I'm actually trying not to solve it. I sort of want to be surprised, if I can? It's about a murder on a boat, so the suspect pool is pretty small. And they all have motives of course."

The brothers Grimm — Sansa wrinkles her nose in good humor, just a bit. "They sound rather, don't they?"

She supposes she understands what he means about being surprised with the story he's reading. After all, some tales are best heard or read without knowing what is to come; much as she loved her songs and her stories of knights and princesses, knowing how it all ends can loses the shine in their retelling. But a murder on a boat?

"You'll have to explain this story to me, I think. Why were they on the boat in the first place?

It seems an inconvenient place for a murder," Sansa expresses with some concern. "Boats and ships do not offer much privacy, from what I can tell." She's only been on a few trips boat- or ship-side. Perhaps there are larger ones with more spacious cabins?

Edited (word choice, and no pressure to tag this back it's been so long 😭) 2025-03-29 12:36 (UTC)

"Oh, incredibly. Lots of dismemberment and other nastiness like that." He wrinkles his nose back at her, though the expression turns into a smile and a soft, warm laugh. "Not my taste, I'm afraid.

But of course, I'd be happy to explain." Casper leans in a little, as he often does when teaching his friend about something new. "As for the boat, these people decided to take a trip. Just for fun, to see the sights. This boat isn't like ones you use for shipping goods and things. There are a lot of big, luxurious rooms, and good food, it's all very fancy. Like a palace, on the water."

A large boat just for traveling — Sansa resists to interrupt that it's the express function of a ship or boat, but as she listens further she begins to understand. A sailing gallery, she decides. That's what this fanciful ship is supposed to be, like the small boats she used to embark on with family and sworn lords the few times she's gotten to visit the Riverlands.

Such trips were always short, of course, on account of the reavers that littered the riverlines, but she thought it wonderful back then.

"A palace on the water sounds messy," Sansa adds with some humor. The palaces she's known have not been... well-kept, in a word, compared to the clean halls of Winterfell that she'd grown up in. "And they— take another's life aboard the ship? How would the murderer get away with the crime?"

Dorian goes to the Community Hall once a day or so. Part of that is to get the lie of the land, to learn as much as he can about his fellow castaways. Part of that is because he's shit at feeding himself (are these berries edible?) and will happily rely on the kindness of strangers if so offered. So as he steps in and brushes the snow off of his peacoat, he looks around...eyes lingering on Darling.

He doesn't seem like the sort of person Dorian would normally talk to. To be frank, this looks like a man who spent a lot of time dealing with computers in his former life and that's something Dorian's been...hesitant to deal with since the 1960s. He'll use email, of course. You have to these days. But the more this Siri crap seems to grow, the more hesitant Dorian becomes. But, when you're stuck in a frozen hellscape, you talk to whoever is around—even if they look like the other children would bully them for their pocket change.

Walking towards Caspar, Dorian blatantly looks over the waterlogged paperback the good doctor is reading, trying to catch a glimpse of the title. "You know, I've found a few books stored away if you want something to read next. They're all Mills and Boon, housewife sort of dreck, but any port in a storm, hmm?"

Dorian's assumptions are not far off, really. He works in a lab where most of the tech is from the 1960s. No e-mail, but heaps and heaps of interoffice memos. And with a name like Casper Darling, well. Children can be so cruel.

Casper's own choice of literature isn't much above Mills and Boon, really. The sort of thriller one might find in an airport, or in the checkout of a grocery store. "Sounds titillating," he replies with a light laugh. "Anything particularly juicy? I could be tempted by a good old fashioned enemies to lovers story."

"There's one about a Scotsman," Dorian laughs. "Her Highland Lover, or something like that. It's your basic sort of story. Young Englishwoman's carriage is robbed by a group of Scottish brigands, one of them takes her hostage, they fall in love and have copious amounts of sex in the interim. I wouldn't say it's particularly well-written, but considering I finished the damn thing in less than a week, that's a testament to it's juiciness."

"Oh!" Darling gives a laugh as well, setting a torn piece of notebook paper in his book to mark his place. "That sounds amazing, actually. Exactly the sort of thing I could use to turn my brain off for a while.

Doctor Casper Darling, by the way," he adds, offering his hand up. "I don't think we've run across each other, yet?"

Oh, he's darling all right. Dorian can tell from the man's smile, his little grin, that he's somebody who Dorian can easily see himself getting along with.

"Call me Dorian," he says, as he takes Darling's hand. Dorian gives it a firm shake before asking, "And now I'm curious: a doctor of what? Medicine? Philosophy?"

"Dorian, wonderful to meet you. Come sit, if you'd like. No need to hover, plenty of room." He gestures at the closest chair, setting his book aside in favour of the conversation.

"Oh, goodness, I do have an MD in there somewhere. It seemed prudent, to have at least some basic medical knowledge. But -- god, it feels so odd to be able to talk about it. But what is classified, really, when you're in another dimension?

I work with what we call the paranatural. A little portmanteau of paranormal and supernatural, coined by my predecessor, since he didn't like the Bureau's use of thaumaturgical. A little too spooky, you know, when most of our work is still based very much in science.

But!" He holds a hand up apologetically. "I'm rambling. The long and short if is that I study parallel and alternate dimensions. Or at least that's my main focus -- or was, back at the Bureau."

With a little nod, Dorian sits down next to Darling. And as he rambles, as he explains his work, Dorian is left with two main thoughts. 1: this man isn't just darling, he's delightful. 2: he absolutely isn't going to tell Darling about him. Paranormal? Supernatural? That's Dorian Gray in a nutshell, as well as his experiences. He'll probably end up talking about it at some point—Dorian is well aware of his flaws and one of them is an annoying dedication to yapping. But for the moment? He's still trying to pretend to be Dorian, a normal useless twenty-something, an idle rich boy art dealer who is far out of his depth.

"This place must be a godsend for your work then," Dorian muses. "I doubt you'd be able to get much in the way of scientific studies, but case studies? Anecdotal evidence? It seems like almost everybody here is from a different dimension."

"It is!" Darling nods enthusiastically, reaching out to touch Dorian's knee in agreement. "You're exactly right, actually. I haven't been able to collect much data in terms of this place. Or at least not a lot that I can put together in any cohesive way. Unfortunately so many of my ideas and theories depend on time. Observations over the course of months or even years.

But!" Another knee touch. Underlining a point. Darling always talks with his hands, and anyone withing arm's reach is in danger of being part of those enthusiastic gestures. "I need to start talking to people more. Collecting stories. I've met one other person who has visited a different dimension, before coming here. There could be more!"

Dorian seems perfectly fine with the knee touching. He doesn't move from Darling's touch—as a matter of fact, he leans in slightly. His expression is bright, there's a small smile on Dorian's face as he continues to listen to Darling talk.

"I'll probably be rubbish on the different dimension of it all," he admits, with a small little smile. "Nothing like that has ever happened to me. But I did have a supernatural occurrence. It's something I normally wouldn't admit to, but if you study that sort of thing...well, you wouldn't think I'm crazy, right?"

There's a slight hesitance in Dorian's tone, as if this is something he's unsure of talking about. But he can twist enough details in this story to match up with the Dorian Gray facade he's putting up here.

"I wouldn't think you were crazy at all," he agrees, enthusiastically. Beyond his job, he's always enjoyed tales of the supernatural. He devoured magazines and tabloids proclaiming to have found Bigfoot or a UFO, as a child.

"Please -- tell me. If you'd like, I mean. But I'd love to hear it."

Randvi no longer lives at the hall but she does visit often, especially now that she's hunting again. She's pleased to see Casper out and about. She has a bit of a soft spot for him due to his association with Heartman.

She feels a bit bad about interrupting his reading, but she greets him anyway.

“Casper, hello. I trust that you withstood the storm well?”

It's not really an interruption when it's a friend, is it? "Randvi!" he proclaims, clearly delighted to see the young woman.

"Wonderful to see you. I held out okay, yes. My new cabin is very cozy, and I managed to grab some jerky and a few other things before the worst of it hit. You look good, everything going well with you?"

Randvi has to think about that for a moment. “I suppose so, yes. It's all been very strange, but that is hardly unusual at this point. Have you heard about the bear?”

"True enough," he concedes, giving a small grimace. "I guess I mean going well in terms of, you know. Apart from all the strangeness."

He marks his place in his book and sets it aside, patting the sofa next to him, if Randvi wants to join him. "I have heard about the bear. I thought I heard the bear once or twice, actually. But that could just be my mind playing tricks. Power of suggestion, and so on. Or the wind, maybe."

Randvi sits next to him. “I think you would know if you had truly heard it. It pursued me to Bigby’s home and then slammed itself against the door for several minutes.”

It had also followed her to the home Constable Fraser shares with Sveta, a place she would not have gone otherwise.

“They say that there is some magical weapon that can defeat it. I plan to travel to Lakeside to see its construction.”

"Oh my god -- " Instinctively, he reaches out to grab her hand, expression concerned. "But you're all right? Obviously, I mean. I don't see any obvious wounds.

The weapon, yes. Honestly, better you than me. I don't -- " He takes his hand back, folding them in his lap with a sigh. "I'm not a fighter. It's not what I was trained for. I collect data, I try to put it together in the most cohesive way so that others can go out to use it.

I'm useless, in the field."

Randvi nods. “At that time it was either unwilling or unable to physically interact with us. I was shaken for obvious reasons but otherwise unharmed.”

It's comforting in a way that she's recovered enough from the injury to think of herself as a warrior again.

“A scholar is far from useless, especially here where we have so little knowledge of the world. But against a bear I suppose that holds little weight.”

"I intend to keep doing my research, so that I can give you warriors more to work with. And I can help out a little, at least, after the fight? I'm able to heal a little." More aptly, he can take the wounds onto himself. But he doesn't want to bother people with that part of it. He considers it penance, for past mistakes.

“Oh yes, I've heard about that.” How different might things be for Randvi now if Enola had offered that ability in her first round of gifts? It still gives her a bit of an ache to think about it.

“Research is always important. Heartman’s experiments saved many lives here.”

Darling's smile is a little sad at the mention of Heartman, and he nods his agreement. "His work was so, so incredible. I'm still going through his notes, trying to build off of what he started. I could never have come up with the talismans, that isn't my area of expertise.

I enjoyed working with him, in the short time we were partners."

“He really was incredible,” Randvi agrees. “He taught me so much.”

She gives Casper a little thumbs-up in his memory.

“I'm pleased that there are people here who can understand what we’ve learned.”

"Ah!" He returns the thumbs up, pleased at the little gesture. "Maybe we can teach each other, a little? I'm not familiar with any of the -- the science or the magic that goes into the talismans. I know about Objects of Power, but only those created naturally. I've never seen anything like that be created.

And in return, I'm happy to teach you more about multiverse theory and parallel dimensions. Which -- which is my area. That and paranatural abilities, but those don't really exist here. I've only spoken to one person who had them previously, but here something dampens them."

“Heartman and I experimented for some time with different methods of making the talismans, and I am confident that we have discovered the most effective manner.”

It's unfortunate that they'd had to discover some of it under terrible conditions at midsummer, but they've taken that information and moved forward.

“I would be pleased to trade this knowledge with you.”

"Fantastic! It's a deal, then. And please -- if you ever need help making the talismans again, I'm more than happy to lend a hand. Once I learn all the proper steps, of course. I wouldn't want to do anything incorrectly."

He pauses, watching the fire thoughtfully for a moment. "I don't think I know much about your home, Randvi. I need to be more curious, especially with friends. Tell me about where you were before you came here?"

“If groups of new people begin arriving again, we will need more.” Randvi wishes the surviving Forest Talkers would take them as well, but understands why they wouldn't.

“I'm Norse.” Her people seem well known even in the future, so he should understand a bit about her background. “I grew up in Graenafylke, and then lived in Rygjafylke for several years. It is a bit like it is here, with the long winters, though the growing season is milder. Recently, my clan has set out to settle in England, and we have formed a small colony on the banks of the Nene, inhabited by my own people, as well as Saxons and others from farther afield.”

She looks into the fire as well. “You said that you lived in a world such as this one, is that so?”

"I know where Scandinavia is! Or at least, where it was, in my world. And England, as well. I've visited England once or twice, but mostly for business.

I'm from America, which might not have been founded, in your world at your time. If uh, if they were still called Saxons and all that. Where I'm from, if this world is like mine, is a little to the south. Less than a thousand miles, if I'm thinking of the right place. Which I might not be, it could be completely different.

I was in a big city. Eight and a half million people, or thereabouts. Not like this at all."

It's always a bit exciting when she has something in common with another, even something so minor.

“I understand that Lunden yet endures, and Jorvik.” Randvi has read some books of maps in the library. “This land of Canada and your homeland are collectively known to my people as Vinland, but I have yet to see anyone who looks like the Vinlanders I have met.”

Of course, migrations happen. Perhaps they had all traded places and her Vinlanders live in Norway now.

“I can scarcely imagine a city so large. We are barely two hundred in Ravensthorpe.”

"London does! It has almost nine million people, these days, which is wild to think of. But it's what I'm used to, a big city like that.

A place like Ravensthorpe might seem... quiet, to me. Whereas New York might seem overly busy and crowded to you."

Eddie isn’t new in Milton. In fact, he was among the first group of Interlopers to arrive, but he’s recently returned from a long and unexpected vacation—which really wasn’t any fun considering all he remembers is merely the concept of time passing, but he tries not to think about it too deeply. If he does, he knows he’ll overthink it and he’ll freak out and that’s very much something he would like to avoid for the time being.

His extended leave of absence however, means that there is plenty of news to catch up on (from the sound of it, it mostly involves snow and bears) and plenty of new faces to get acquainted with. It unfortunately also means that he’s still trying to recover all his valuables. Most of them, save for his guitar and amp saved from certain doom by Kieren, and his jacket have been pilfered or traded away. He’s on his fifth consecutive trip to search the Community Hall when he stumbles upon the doctor and his book.

“Hey,” he calls. “You haven’t seen..honestly the most incredible set of tapes one could ever lay eyes on around here, have you? About thirteen tapes in a carve wooden box? Pretty sure you couldn’t miss it if you tried, but uh…here we are.”

He gives a wry smile. He’s failed to say that those tapes are but it’s a full Lord of the Rings audiobook from the 80s. His second most prized possession here in Milton…

Well honestly, all of that will be entirely fascinating for Dr. Darling to know. The going and coming back, how he did or didn't experience time passing, given Darling's research and focus on dimensional travel. (Dorian is right, he really does need to talk to more people. Maybe he'll write a questionnaire...?)

But as it is, there's a snow covered boy looking around the area and Darling is pulled out of his reading. He smiles and adjusts his glasses on his nose a bit, marking his place to give the young man his full attention. "A carved wooden box? Not that I know of, but I'll be sure to tell you, if I do. And tapes, I for sure haven't seen any of those. Not since the shoebox in my car back home, anyway. Do you have something battery powered, or can you only listen to them during the Auroras?"

If Darling were to uncover enough information to know to ask, Eddie would certainly answer, but for now, a soft “hm” is only response as he crouches down to peek beneath a table as if he might find all his missing items stowed there. “I did have something battery powered, but uh…”

He trails off, and with a dramatic sigh, he straightens up, spreads his arms in a shrug and lets them drop to his sides once more.

“I’m looking for that too, apparently.”

Yet another item to add to the list of things he is unlikely to ever find again…Maybe someday another walkman will show up. Maybe he can borrow someone else’s. Maybe he can just wait for the holiday pig to show up again.

“So, uh, what were you writing before I so rudely interrupted you?”

"I'll keep an eye out for both, certainly. Sometimes items appear where and when we least expect them to, around this place." He wasn't expecting the ashtray to show up, but now it sits on his desk in his cabin.

"Hm? Oh!" He holds up his notebook, which looks a little worse for the wear, as most things do here. "Some theories and things. Back home, I specialize in alternate dimensions, so being here has definitely been interesting, in terms of my work. You don't happen to have studied multiverse theory, have you?" he asks, only half joking.

Eddie’s looks alone won’t tell you everything about him, but they’re a pretty good place to start. It’s clear that he’s a wild-haired metalhead with a love for the macabre, but he doesn’t exactly give off the air of a man who has studied multiverse theory.

And he hasn’t. But the bemused look he gives Darling is awfully telling.

“I mean, I can kind of do you one better.” He snorts, offering up a tight smile. “I lived it. Briefly.”

Immediately, Casper leans in, eyes shining with interest. "Did you really?" he asks, elbows on his knees, looking all to eager to hear the details of Eddie's story. "You've crossed into a different dimension? Or -- or more than one, possibly. I myself have been to two, not counting my own. Or I guess three, if we include Milton."

“Uh, just the one. Unless you want to count Milton which—is kind of no weirder than my hometown? So I’m not sure I actually do.”

For all he knows, Milton could easily be the same dimension as weird, alternate Hawkins. It’s cold and dark and has monsters. The only thing missing is the hive mind vines and mutant bats.

“It’s like—under my hometown in Indiana. It’s the town, just kind of frozen in 1983? Oh! And no people. Just...some really freaky monsters.”

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open | you were a wanderer...

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