i heard a scream in the woods somewhere

[singmod]

MARCH 2025 EVENT

PROMPT ONE: THE AURORA — TERTIARIUS Enola reaches out to the Interlopers and offers them the chance to gain an ability for the third time.

PROMPT TWO: THE HUNTED, PART TWO: The hauntings of the mysterious spectral bear begin to escalate in physical attacks on Interlopers, but assistance comes from a familiar face in trying to ward the Old Bear back.

PROMPT THREE — DON'T SLEEP: A mysterious creature is attacking and killing Interlopers as they sleep. Interlopers must either cosy up with a friend, or spend the night holding a sleepless vigil in order to fight it off.

THE AURORA — TERTIARIUS

WHEN: The Month of March, Mid-March.
WHERE: Everywhere.
CONTENT WARNINGS: potentially disturbing dreams; themes of starvation; themes of disordered eating; themes of animal attacks; mentions of blood; themes of terror.


There has been an increase in frequency of Auroras over the month of February and into March. It is very much something all within the Northern Territories are used to, barring the newest numbers to the ranks. The noise starts: faint at first, but then growing louder. An ethereal, high-pitched chorus of sounds difficult to place. There’s a kind of electrical buzzing with it all, a low, endless hum punctuated with cracks and pops. The sky is alive with sound, and with it comes the swirling streaking of colour against the inky black of night.

Streetlights, illuminating the town’s roads; lights in stores and homes will come alive, buzzing and flickering at times. Rotting and rusted cars, almost entirely buried in snow will turn on, their headlights blaring. Electronics that had previously seemed broken flick on — and whilst there are no broadcasts available on televisions, and the radio waves only drone on in static, with occasional emergency broadcasts somehow still going. Any computers and phones will turn on, but will have no internet or reception. Instead, Interlopers may find texts and emails — many of them unsent. The everyday lives of their users stored within, now readable.

With it, Enola can be heard. For many, this is a familiar thing — but not everyone is overly familiar with Enola. She is the First Interloper, and although she is somewhere unknown — the Aurora connects all. She can be heard muttering, distracted and exhausted. Her whispered, unintelligent words a ghostly presence over the Northern Territories.

By mid-March, on Aurora nights, you hear her calling out to you. You hear her call your name. Soft whispers on the wind that echo, she’s trying to reach out to you: “I see you. I’m here.”

On one particular night, the Aurora is particularly notable — it’s almost beautiful, even with its haunting aura. The shimmering waves of colour dancing across the skies, brighter than they’ve ever been. During this Aurora, shooting stars can be seen streaking across the skies. Sharp glints of light across the night. Interlopers finds themselves stopping to watch the shower of stars.

“I’m sorry I can’t be there. I.. I can’t leave. I have to—.” she cuts off, exhales heavily. For a long time, there is silence. Nothing but Enola’s laboured breaths. She sounds… tearful, overwhelmed.

“You’re doing so well, you know that, right? You’re surviving this place.” she tells you. “Even if I can’t be there, I’m with you. All of you.”

There is a silence for a time, long enough that it makes you think Enola has gone.

“I promised I would help you the best I can. This place… doesn’t have to take everything. This is not the ending of all things.”

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.

EFFICIENT MACHINE: The colours of the Aurora dance around you in your dreamscape, overwhelming for a moment before they begin to settle. You dream you are sat at a magnificent feast, the table laden with rich, exotic foods. The mere sight makes your mouth water, your stomach rumbles in protest. You have never felt more hungry in all your life, and you want nothing more than to take your fill.

You are not alone, you realise.

At the opposite end of the table sits a woman, her face shrouded from view, a crown of thorns and flowers upon her head. You cannot tell if she is old, or young. Perhaps she is both, but you feel slightly apprehensive in her presence.

‘Magnificent, is it not?’ she asks. ‘Eat, if you must. But you will hunger again, and know a time of nothing to fill your belly. You will waste away to nothing.’

You stare, unnerved.

‘But… touch nothing, and you will never understand such a pleasure again — but you will never know hunger again. You will never know thirst again. Death will not come for you for an empty belly or an unquenched thirst.’

You sit for some time, staring at the food before you. You hunger desperately, but in the end, you decide not to eat. The woman chuckles, nodding. ‘Very good, child.’

When you awaken, you feel content, like one does after a large meal. That pleasant kind of sleepiness that comes with it. You do not realise that this day will be the last time you ever feel this kind of satiated. There’s something within you that understands: you are blessed, perhaps by Mother Nature herself.

You are an Efficient Machine, and will never suffer for it in times when you have so little. Her bounty, no matter how toxic, will never harm you.

OLD BEAR’S BLESSING: The colours of the Aurora dance around you in your dreamscape. You dream of kneeling in thick woods, one you recognise to be Lakeside. You hold a weapon close to you: your gun, your knife, your bow, whatever it is you use to arm yourself in waking life. The air is alive with breathing, your heart thunders in your chest.

You feel… warm, with blood. You are injured. Sharp claws have torn your flesh, fangs have punctured you, mangled your bones. The pain is overwhelming, and you look up to a shadow of a great and terrible beast.

The Old Bear. Impossibly big in this dream, more so than the phantom that’s haunted you the past several weeks. It towers over you. You cannot win this fight. You are tired, weak and injured.

But you will not be afraid. And you keep your weapon ready.

The bear approaches you, weighted and purposeful steps to your kneeling form.

Its giant muzzle is level with your face. The moment is fraught. Its jaws open wide into a ferocious roar, and you don’t flinch away — even as you feel its hot breath against your face. In reply, you scream back. You will not be afraid.

Old Bear falls silent, salivating jaws dripping onto you. You gaze at the Old Bear’s huge, black eyes: intelligent and fearsome. The darkness in those black pools feels endless. And yet you feel… seen. The Old Bear sees something in you.

You will not be afraid.

When you awaken, you feel…. strong. Hale. Perhaps the best you’ve felt since you came here, perhaps for the first time in your life. But there’s something else, too. Something that rolls in slow waves in the pit of your stomach. Rage, some old kind of fury that warms your bones. The Old Bear has granted you a boon, a blessing. May you use it well.

DARKWALKER’S REVENGE: The colours of the Aurora dance around you in your dreamscape and then fade into nothing. When you look up, you are in a place of endless, impenetrable black. You are not alone. Enola stands with you, apprehension in her expression. You can feel the hairs on the back of your neck prickle. In silence, all there is the sound of your breathing, Enola’s breathing. She looks about, searching, on guard. She steps in front of you, as if to shield you.

Something is wrong.

Enola looks over her shoulder at you. Her blue eyes are sharp, fearful. She says your name softly.

Out of the dark, an invisible force grabs Enola, lifting her from her feet and yanking her backwards and away from you. It drops her briefly and she falls to the ground. You can try to chase after her, try to help her, but there is an almighty sound: as if the very earth is splitting open. Enola is dragged from you, kicking and screaming and fighting as furiously as she can.

No—! Leave them! Leave them be—!

Something shifts, and it is as if she’s being dragged down into the very earth itself. She claws, trying to gain traction, trying to stop herself from being pulled down completely and disappearing into the dark. A gigantic skeletal claw rips emerges from the darkness and her from you. She’s cut off mid-scream, horror in her eyes.

In the dark, you are alone. Or so you think.

There is the slow churning sound of bones and scattering of earth. Out of the darkness appears the violent green of three glowing wolf skulls, impossibly enormous and rising and rising and rising.

It towers above you, gargantuan and leering. The Darkwalker. The wolf skulls snarl, their jaws pulling into terrible grins. The center of its skulls opens its maw, dripping emerald mucus. It is hungry, so very hungry. And then it lunges at you, swallowing you whole with the snapping of jaws and a terrible wet sound. There’s pain, and fear. Overwhelming and all-encompassing; and the dream snaps shut as it ends.

When you awaken, you feel sick to your stomach, exhausted. Perhaps even feverish. You will not be able to rise from your bed, spending an entire day sick with some unknown illness. By the nightfall of the second day, you will begin to improve and feel… stronger, somehow. Revitalised. The night is long and bitter, but you are not afraid of the dark.

But do you understand the price? Something has gone wrong. This is the Darkwalker’s Revenge. You may never know the light again.

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.

THE HUNTED, PART TWO

WHEN: The month of March, into April.
WHERE: Everywhere, but mostly Lakeside.
CONTENT WARNINGS: supernatural creature; hauntings; supernatural experiences; themes of hunting, being hunted/stalked by an animal; bear attacks; potential gore/maulings; potential character death; potential NPC death.

For months now, a presence has been haunting the Interlopers across the Northern Territories. At first, nothing more than footprints in the snow that lead to nowhere, shadows against the rocks that disappear when you turn around.

The Old Bear has Returned, and may you find your way far from its teeth and claws.

Out in the wilds, you will find yourself being stalked. For many Interlopers, they have been through this dance before. The prickling sensation at the back of one’s neck. The thuds of its paws in the snow approaching you, low grumblings of a great, angry beast seeking you out.

Something feels different, this time. Something feels real, weighted.


In time, the creature will be upon you — a hulking, great bear with thick brown fur, snapped arrows sitting at its neck and a strange, keen intelligence. It watches you, follows you from a distance, up high. And soon enough, it will charge.

Fleeing from Old Bear would have you running from nothing but the wind. Previous attempts of standing one’s ground and attempting to shoot or fight the bear have proved that the apparition will dissolve into thin air quicker than a blink.

But not this time. The phantom is made of flesh.

Old Bear might not kill you, but a mauling from them will certainly draw you close to death if its allowed to get at you for long enough. Almost as if it hopes the resulting injuries or the exposure will kill you. Pray that you have someone with you to help fight Old Bear off so you can escape.

And It seems as if there is very little to be done to stop Old Bear’s approach even now with it being physically able to harm you. Flames will not harm it, nor ward it off, campfires will not keep it at bay. Shooting at them will only anger him even more if it can see you. The sound of guns may keep them at bay, provided they cannot see where you are. Flare guns are effective, particularly if Old Bear doesn’t see where its coming from. Hiding in buildings is effective enough too, with Old Bear clawing at wood and hefting its great weight to try and force its way inside for a time until it eventually gives up and leaves you alone.

But there must be something that can be done to beat the ancient creature back, and there is someone who may be able to help. On occasion, Young Bill, who is out in the wilds of Lakeside, may come across you in the midst of Old Bear trying to attack Interlopers. He will help chase the bear off with the use of a trusty flare gun — with it being far better at spooking the animal off for a short time. In the aftermath, Young Bill will help tend to any injuries in a state of shock and — once Interlopers are alright — with a grim smile.

“I thought we were all just seeing things. Ghosts. But that old bastard’s still around, like… for real, huh?”

He’ll gather up Interlopers and take them back to his cabin for any further treatment and a chance to get warmed up again. He will tell the Interlopers the story of the Old Bear (for those who have yet to read it in the Camp Office) before leaving to fetch a chest from his bedroom. Inside will be a broken spear, still covered in ancient, dried blood and carefully wrapped in fabric, along with ancient blue-prints on yellowing, fragile paper.

“My ancestor was one of the hunters who went after Old Bear.” he will explain, showing Interlopers the broken spear. “This was all that was found after they, and Old Bear, disappeared out on the muskeg.”

“I thought it was all just… stories. Hunters with ego trying to stop an old bear. But… that bear shouldn’t be alive. With the way things are now, with how things are changing. I… I don’t know what to believe anymore.”

“When my old man was dying, he said it wasn’t the Darkwalker that was coming for him. It was the Old Bear. Maybe he had a point.”

It makes you wonder, considering the state of the world.

“You need something that can do what bullets or arrows can’t.” he tells them, laying out the fragile blueprints on the table. “Thick steel, far better for piercing through that hide. Make one of these, and you might just have what you need to keep that thing away. Maybe enough to keep it away from you for good. I don’t know if this might work, but it’s worth a shot. And I owe you for everything you’ve done for me.”

“There’s a forge at the Maintenance Yard. I’ve used it before, the guys there would let me do work there on occasion. I think one of you guys have been in there lately. We could make some of these. They’ll last longer than bullets, too.”

At least for those inexperienced in metalwork, Young Bill will accompany Interlopers to the Maintenance Yard and get to work — guiding them in powering up the forge and getting to crafting new spears. The spears are strong, sharp and sturdy, despite their modest appearance. Young Bill checks each one, whispering something under his breath to the steel as he runs his thumb along the edge, and perhaps you may hear the words. It’s strange, they are not English, but you understand them all the same:

‘May you know your enemy.’

You may not be sure if this will work, but if the Old Bear comes for you again then you have something new to try. And soon enough the creature will come, stalking you for some time before it draws in to attack. As it charges, readying your spear by kneeling in the ground and angling it just right will give you a fighting chance of piercing through that tough hide and giving you a fighting chance of avoiding being mauled. An intense, desperate fight will ensue, but the spear proves to be a valuable asset, allowing you to fight Old Bear off far better than anything else you may have tried before now.

And sure enough, the creature will run off — leaving nothing but blood upon the snow. You won’t be able to hunt the beast down, such is not the way of things with this strange, ancient creature. But you will have fought it off enough for it to leave you well alone. Until next time, that is.

DON’T SLEEP

WHEN: Throughout the month of March.
WHERE: Everywhere.
CONTENT WARNINGS:malevolent supernatural beings; sleep paralysis demons-esque creature; themes of hauntings; themes of peril/terror; death of npc interlopers; possible character death; supernatural death; possible sleep deprivation.

Something attacking the Interlopers in the dead of night. Perhaps there are whispers of it amongst Interlopers in town, utterings in conversation. A bad night’s sleep, a terrible dream. A monster in the corner, and being powerless to move against it.

A shadowy presence in the room where you sleep. Distant, in the corner of the room: something impossible tall and human-looking. Watching you. The first night it does nothing but watch from its distance.

The second night: it is closer. You still can’t quite pick out the details of it other than the bald head and unnaturally long limbs as it towers over you, bent to loom close.

The third? Well. Those affected don’t speak of the third night. The dead don’t speak.

Checking on neighbours, it will be uncovered that some of the Interlopers have been killed in their beds. Investigations of Interloper homes will turn up showing no sign of a break in, nor will anyone note anything out of ordinary on the nights that these Interlopers die — no screams, no signs of a struggle, no assailant running off into the night.

But it is clear that something is killing people as they sleep each night — often targeting Interlopers who live, or sleep alone.

As for the poor Interlopers themselves who are found dead the next morning, or after, their bodies will all show the very same injury: a strange depression in their chests. Anyone who wishes to look further than and perform some kind of post-mortem or autopsy will discover that while there has been little damage elsewhere in the torso, the heart has been completely crushed.

Something, some kind of… supernatural being, perhaps. No man nor beast could perform such an act.

Understandably, Interlopers will find themselves too terrified to sleep. What if whatever this is comes for them too? While they sleep? It means some long nights of sleeplessness ahead, until someone works out what to do here. The only problem is that people need sleep to survive. The body requires REM sleep in order to function, and the odds are already so terribly stacked again Interlopers without the preciousness of sleep. Sleep deprivation can be potentially devastating. Those who fell victim to the Glimmerfog last year will know only too well about that.

There are a couple of options of what to do, it seems.

Interlopers can avoid meeting a grim fate by sharing a bed for the entire month. There’s strength in numbers after all.It might be a little awkward, all things considered. But what’s a little awkwardness in the face of possibly dying horribly by some terrible creature? Bunking up with someone might be a decent idea of keeping yourselves safe — and also keeping yourselves warm, considering current state of the world and winter’s grasp clinging so tightly despite the coming of Spring.


Another option is to hold a vigil for another Interloper, to allow them to sleep for the night whilst you keep watch. Whilst this may be extremely difficult for some, it might just be enough to ward the mysterious being off from coming after Interlopers as they sleep. It’s entirely possible that the creature may actually still come for the sleeping Interloper — and will finally be revealed to the one keeping watch.

The being is nude, tall and pale, something possibly human-like but with little in terms of distinguishable features. Its face is nothing more than a warped, eyeless mask and an open, circular mouth of teeth, and with long, spindly limbs and clawed hands and feet. It’s a terrifying thing, and it may still attempt to come for the sleeping Interloper, clambering along the wall and dropping onto the bed, making to attack.

The creature can be scared off by the one standing watch by even so much as a firm word, let alone a physical attack — and it will be enough to scare it off from both the sleeper and the watcher for the duration. And it truth, it will work — while the being may continue to go after other Interlopers for the remainder of the month, both the watcher and sleeper will not be troubled ever again.

FAQs

THE AURORA — TERTIARIUS


1. The final three Aurora Feats are now unlocked! Please see the following page for more information. Aurora Feats are completely optional.

2. Interlopers will only receive ONE Aurora Event. The only time this is available is this month. After March, players will have to wait for the next Feat round for another chance at an Aurora Feat.

3. Now that all Feats have been revealed, the game will hold further events with three Feats chosen at random until the Endgame.


THE HUNTED, PART TWO

1. The spears don't appear like much, nor do they appear like they will do much damage — but are incredibly sturdy and strong. Is it magic? Belief? The power of folk story? It's hard to say. But there's something about them that is incredibly effective in dealing with Old Bear.

2. Interlopers are allowed one spear each.

3. Interlopers can make an additional spear to bring back for a friend who might not be present.

4. The language Young Bill speaks to the speaks is one native to the game-world and thus fictional. However, those familiar may note similarities with the languages of the indigenous peoples of Canada.

DON'T SLEEP

1. Interlopers who are haunted by the creature and spend a single night sharing a bed with another will find that they will 'reset' their hauntings but there will be an additional day added. Their next night alone will be uneventful, the second will have the creature appear at a distance, the third will have the creature closer and the fourth would be the day they would be 'caught' by the creature and killed.

2. As Community Hall is a bit of a grey area considering Interlopers are sleeping 'alone together', it is player choice if the creature targets them or not if they choose to sleep there.

3. The creature will attack Interlopers whenever they are sleeping, regardless of the time of day.

PLOTTING POST

Comments

you WOKE THE DRAGON

[northerndragon]

[His dreams are never very comforting: drums, the Wall, the Night King, armor of black ice, the echoing shrieks of some animal that he imagines must be a dragon (but how can it be, when he has never seen a dragon and doesn't know what it should sound like?), thousands of wights, empty battlements, Castle Black, empty stables with bloodstained straw, halves of dead horses, the dark crypts of Winterfell as the kings of winter tell him he doesn't belong there, on and on and on. Tonight is not much different. He bears it as well as anything.

Until someone startles him awake. He grips her wrist.]

What --

What do you want?

[He blinks into the darkness at Sansa's pale face. It is lucky that, being as cold a night as all the nights here in this town, he had worn a shirt and breeches to bed.]

Room? Sit.

[He's uncomprehending.]

and she'll do it again!!!

[clothed]

No. I need you to move.

[ there is a quality to her voice that jon might find familiar; pitched high, demanding, commanding as though they're no more than a few feet away from lady catelyn's earshot. it's not a whine. sansa is a proper lady in distress, and she doesn't whine.

(the truth is that she's not let herself feel truly safe to set her walls aside, even around jon. especially around jon, knowing how awful it has been between them as children, and how it's gotten worse for them in their years apart. she doesn't want to be the foolish girl that she was when they left winterfell. but she misses her family, misses her brothers and sister, and her desire to feel unreservedly vulnerable has been long been clawing its way through since she's arrived.

jon is here. jon won't let anything happen to her. she can let herself ask to be coddled and not be judged for it.)

with a more urgent push she all but shoves jon... an inch, maybe two, before giving up and climbing into bed. she's had some sense to bring her own blankets, but these she throws over jon's own and burrows underneath until her cold fingers are grasping jon's arm. ]

I had a dream that someone was watching me. I'm sleeping here.

[northerndragon]

[His first response is to make a confused face. His second, almost immediately following, is to open his mouth to protest. He has shared relatively close quarters with her, but she doesn't really know that, and even in doing so, he has always maintained proprieties.

Before he can say much, she's shoved him over and crawled in. And then he sees that she has, at least, brought her own blankets. That's a relief.

Still. Seven hells. He had agreed to be Father for her, as much as he can be; he feels like a failure at it, most days. He had had little love for her mother, but he has never liked the thought of Lady Catelyn lying dead in some river somewhere, not least because of what had been done to Robb on that same night. Nonetheless, he is not sure he can be her mother for her too.

Finally, he hears what she says to him.]

Watching you?

[His voice is rough with sleep.]

[clothed]

It's stupid. [ she says it with same fierceness as she had when she denounced joffrey before the ladies margaery and olenna, the last of her girlish honesty that remains to her. ] I know it's stupid. It's just a dream.

I'm sleeping here anyway.

[ to her merit, she insists on no further closeness beyond her hands on jon's sleeve, the cloth twisted in her anxious fingers. sansa curls towards jon until the covers are high on her cheeks, heavy linen and red hair hiding most of her face.

given her height, it's a tight fit to rest next to jon this way. if she extends her leg — if she extends her foot — she'll feel the edge of the mattress, she's sure. but the thought of going back to her room is even less appealing; she'll suffer kneeing jon's kidneys than pretend at sleep while her mind runs itself to ruin thinking of a man that isn't there. ]

Did Arya not used to do this with you? She was always bothering you and Robb, I thought.

[northerndragon]

[It is Jon who would suffer Sansa's sharp knee in his kidneys, but he's suffered a knife in his heart and blades in other places besides. He sighs like a martyr and blinks into the darkness and wonders if Lady Randvi is sleeping well.]

Arya was a child.

[A sister who is a woman grown doesn't belong in his bed. (They are no Targaryens^*, and no Lannisters.)

That is, unless — ]

I didn't say your dream was stupid. Is it the sort of dream you have at home, or the sort of dream that happens here?

[Because the sort of things that happen here need action. They need plans. A dream here of a new sort, a man watching her, might mean something, unless the man was Baelish, in which it only means that he should have killed Baelish when he had the chance.]

[^* LOL ]

[clothed]

Yes. No. I don't know, Jon. I have waking nightmares, and sometimes it's difficult to remember the dream is just that. Sometimes I think my dreams will reach out from behind me and make themselves real, only — only here, it's more likely than not to come true.

[ some nightmares are remembered things. remembered faces. some nightmares were true first, and now won't let themselves be forgotten. petyr baelish watching her sleep as he stole her away from king's landing was the worst of it, at the time; silly girl that she was, she thought he was her friend. she feels silly, thinking back on it. and jon has suffered so much, too, hasn't he? men and monsters — where lies the line separating them?

this is how she knows she's still burdened with childish hope: she believes jon would never hurt her.

(but it's jon, and jon is as much a stark as i am.) ]

I saw a man. It looked like a man, I think. Do you remember the sigil of House Bolton? How the flayed man's arms are lashed tight to the cross? It was like that, but rather than flayed it was... the arms stretched like leather on the tanning benches. Too long to be natural. Blackened.

I felt its eyes on me. I could feel its eyes lingering.

[northerndragon]

[He nods, suddenly more interested.]

Did you ever dream of this thing before now? Back at Winterfell? Anything really to do with Bolton?

[Because he never has -- not that he can remember.]

[clothed]

The flayed man?

[ sansa's heart jumps to her throat for a petrifying second, her voice trembling as she asks. then she realises her mistake, and her shaky breath of relief is all too telling. ]

No, not quite. I've not dreamed it before, or seen such a thing so vividly. Dreams of shadows were never this fantastical. They were men. This dream felt different. It scared me, Jon. Scares me still.

[northerndragon]

And it watched you.

[He's frowning now.]

I don't like this. Might be that it's nothing, but this place —

[He makes a gesture a little like shrugging, but that's hard. Not a lot of room in the bed with a sister taller than him in it, clutching his sleeve.]

Have things like this happened here before now? Bad dreams.

[clothed]

Enola talks to us through dreams, sometimes. And there were fever-dreams too, months before you'd arrived, though I was not afflicted.

[ and there lies another confession she has yet to make. jon either doesn't know or has not brought it up with her out of respect for her privacy. perhaps–— ]

Do you think it means something? Like... like the way dragon dreams are, or greenseeing? But what could it mean?

[northerndragon]

Not the lady. I hear her too.

I don't know if it means anything, but if there's a chance that it does, then you'd better stay. We can ask about tomorrow, learn if anyone else is having bad dreams.

[He blinks grimly at the ceiling, thinks of people to talk to.]

If you keep having them here if we're together, or if I start having bad dreams, or if something else happens, then staying in one room isn't enough. But might be it is only a dream.

[clothed]

Just as stories are only ever stories.

[ she remembers jon talking about the dead who yet walk beyond the wall, and she's honest enough to admit to herself that she can't quite believe it. but she's seen stranger things here, and jon is not easily given to fancies or slippery men with pretty words. if jon thinks it worth considering, then it's good enough for sansa.

it's also another reason to cuddle closer, and warm her cheek against jon's shoulder. she misses rickon. she misses when bran was much smaller, and did not shy from being tucked into bed by an older sister.

she misses home. ]

If I told you something strange... Promise you won't think less of me.

[northerndragon]

[He tolerates being snuggled against rather stiffly, then reminds himself that they are all either of them has left in the world, that he is father and brother to her now and if he has agreed to be mother to her for the night too, then he might as well relax, so he does, and they are not even in their world any longer. Across the room, past the foot of the bed, Ghost shifts and stretches and makes a great yawn.]

Can't promise, but I'll try.

Where's Lady? Let her in if she scratches at the door.

[clothed]

She's watching the stairs. She'll come when she's ready.

[ sansa doesn't explain how she knows this, only that she does. that lady understands her and she understands lady, despite the lack of common words between them.

her direwolf will come to the door when she feels it safe — or, more likely, when sansa feels safe. sansa knows her anxiousness bleeds out, and that lady knows the feeling well. she has some anxiety now, too, in a different colour. ]

Do you notice it when I leave to walk at night? Be honest.

[northerndragon]

[He shrugs.]

A little, but you've a direwolf with you.

[clothed]

You don't chaperone Ghost when he makes to leave, [ sansa counters with some feeling. and it's true — ghost is like jon in many ways, the preference to keep to themselves chief among them. ] And that's not what I mean.

Do you remember Old Nan's stories about the shapechangers? That the Lady Mormont herself changed herself to lay with a bear, and that's how she carried her daughters?

[northerndragon]

Ghost survived in the woods north of the Wall for much of the time I spent with the Free Folk. I could not have him with me, I had to send him away. He found his way back to me later.

[He does not say, now, what it had cost him to send him away.]

I remember the stories.

[He pulls back a little to give her a narrow look.]

[clothed]

[ how does she say this? does she just blurt it outright and leave it to jon to call on her honesty? ]

What if they're not stories? Here, that is. What if — Some of the Interlopers here can change their shape at will, or so I'm told. That some are given gifts of magic, too.

Have you ever seen through Ghost's eyes before?