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

Dorian Gray | The Confessions of Dorian Gray

[brushoff]

THE AURORA — TERTIARIUS
The first night, Dorian has a dream. He dreams of the Aurora, of Enola, of all that being blotted away, devolving into darkness as the Darkwalker reaches forward and chews him to bits, grinding him beneath those teeth. The next day, Dorian stays in bed, sweating through his sheets and his clothes, too tired and too sick to move. The second night, he feels fine. He gets up. He does some chores.

The third night, Roberto Robert comes to the church. The two chat, they talk for a bit, Dorian moves his hand to grab Roberto's arm, to lightly pull him towards something else...and he keeps his hand on the man. He holds tight, gripping Roberto's arm as he feels full. As he feels satiated. He drains the man to death because it's the best he's felt in ages. And Dorian Gray is perfectly fine letting others die so that he may live.

There's a little closet down in the crypt of the church, a perfect place to store the body until the ground is soft enough to bury him. But as Dorian drags the body downstairs, to hide it behind a locked door that only he has the key to, he doesn't realize there's a teensy little problem: he's straight up broadcasting his thoughts to everyone in Milton.

And unfortunately for everyone, Dorian is a dramatic bitch.

Dorian, Dorian, Dorian. What have you gotten yourself into. As if arriving in a new world in the middle of the frozen wilderness wasn't enough, now you wake up with an odd dream and a new gift—and not, mind you, the gift that I'm supposed to have. Still, it could be worse. After all, this is the sort of thing I deal with on a regular basis. What's one more supernatural oddity in the life of Dorian Gray? Everything I've heard about here is something familiar in a way. After all, this isn't the first time that a mystery woman has found me interesting—though usually she shows up in person, not in my dreams.

Enola...I think she might be the most interesting of them all. All the things people have talked about. That sea serpent? An oversized kraken. A ghost bear? Boring. The Darkwalker? Primordial darkness trying to reshape the world? Been there, done that, read the metaphorical book. Though Magog was certainly more chatty than what I've heard about the Darkwalker. Ah, Pamela. You were so vibrant, so bright, cut down in your prime due to all that nonsense. A victim of circumstance during my last dealings with creatures trying to end the world. You'd hate it here.

But yes. The Darkwalker, that ghost bear, stories of ghosts and demons and sea monsters. That's all so boring. So expected. But her...I can't figure her out. And I've no idea where to even start.

It's 3am and there's a pretentious British man just monologuing inside your brain. Someone please tell him to shut up (or go to the church, where he's currently doing a little bit of tidying of the sanctuary, and tell him to shut up in person).

WILDCARD
( open for any prompts or any plotting that isn't "Dorian, shut the FUCK UP." )

Sameen Shaw | Person of Interest

[cactusy]

A - the hunted, part two

[It's not that Shaw isn't taking any precautions. It's just that they've been dealing with this shit for months now, she's been stalked by an invisible ghost bear more times than she's bothered to count, and she's developed an understanding of how the process goes. So when she hears the telltale sound of a large creature scuffing its paws on the snow or sees a hulking figure at the treeline, she'll still move quietly, sticking to the cover of buildings, trying to quickly vacate the area - but she won't actually expect anything to come of it.

If she's with someone else, or if there's someone else traveling nearby, she'll motion for them to follow. Best of luck with that, kids.

And if she's on her own... well. Luckily for her, she'll be easy enough to find in the aftermath; blood is strikingly visible on snow. More likely than not, this will be what saves her life, allowing her mauled, near-unconscious body to be found before she bleeds out or freezes to death. Spot her anywhere on the route between Milton and Lakeside - possibly even just inside one of the mine entrances, if she's managed to drag herself into its relative shelter before passing out.]

B - don't sleep

[Shaw is actually not that picky about sleeping arrangements, and here especially, her bottom-line standards are not outdoors and not in an active danger zone. If having to bunk down with someone else is what it takes to fulfill that second requirement, then so be it.

Sometimes she's in Lakeside, with Michonne and the Doctor; otherwise, she's at the Milton Community Hall, where she'll keep an eye out for other stragglers and loners. If she spots one who looks to be hunting around for a place to sleep, she'll wave them over to the bed she's claimed.]

Do you snore or kick in your sleep?

Cornelius Hickey | The Terror (AMC)

[friendsfordinner]

the old bear - Milton
Hickey's heard from Young Bill about that bear. About that spear. And he's really thinking that might be a good idea.

Because of course the spear would work. Obviously! That's how these things work, especially in places like this. If there's some old story, it will be true. If there's some rumor, it will be true. There's a magical spear that will take out that monster bear. And so, Hickey wants that spear.

But he's got to go back home, to chat with Billy, to float the possibility of him going to Lakeside for a day or two. So he's in the forest, headed back home, lost in thoughts...

and there's something there. Something looking at him. He knows it.

So hey, don't mind Hickey as he picks up his pace. And anybody who he runs into, anybody else out there, they're getting a quick, "Pick it up. That bear's here. I want to get inside before it does anything."

closed to Billy
Everybody else is having horrific nightmares of weird slenderman stepping on their chest. Hickey, having spent every night cuddling up to his husband, is super unaware of that! Once he learns about that, he will happily gloat about his taken and happily married status but thankfully, so many people are currently free from his bullshit.

Billy isn't. But at least Billy's used to his bullshit.

It's one night as they get ready for bed that Hickey moves to the bedroom. He's holding a candle in a candlestick. Looking over at Billy, he asks, "Want me to go ahead and blow this out?"

[moralabsolutism]

Looked like Rorschach wasn't the only person in Milton anymore who did dramatic monologues through telepathy anymore. Given how long he'd had his gift, these days Rorschach rarely had people listening in on his usual purple-prose tinted speeches anymore. Looked like someone else was now doing it too.

And since Rorschach was up at 3 AM given his usual habits, he sent out his own message back, contained in that deep growl that was almost identical to his speaking voice. The only difference was how he tended to be much more verbose when using his telepathy than speaking out loud. "You should learn to guard your thoughts more carefully, Dorian. You never know who or what might be listening in. That's one of the more minor dangers of this snow-covered Hell." At least he hadn't just flat-out told him to shut up?

[brushoff]

Dorian's first thought is,

Good Lord, someone's hoarse. You should probably check that out, the last thing you want is to get a throat infection.

Wait a moment. He heard that. And whoever that person is, he heard him as well. There's a moment before Dorian hesitantly thinks back,

You heard that?

Wynonna Earp | Wynonna Earp

[pacificator]

open & closed starters
[ repeatandfade | plotting | blueofthebay @ disco ]

[moralabsolutism]

"Yes. I was granted a 'gift' here a while back by Enola that allows me to project my thoughts to other people so they can hear me when I want them to. Or as much as a gift as it can be when you can't return what was given to you, which is what my definition of the word would entail. It's very useful, especially since I'm not very good with talking out loud." There was a severe disconnect between Rorschach's rather long thoughts and the short, stunted phrases came out of his mouth, even though his communication skills had slightly improved over the course of the time he'd been in the town.

"Where are you?" He asked, looking about to see if he could somehow pinpoint where those thoughts were coming from. "I can hear you but I can't see you."

Edward Little ⚓ The Terror

[fidior]

CLOSED STARTERS.

---

⚓ — PLOTTING

— Wynonna Earp.

[fidior]

[ It all happens like something straight from a nightmare — from his nightmare. The attacks from the creature, which up until now have been only a sort of nightmare of their own (deeply frightening encounters but ultimately harmless, as the entity seemed incapable of causing any true damage) finally begin to draw blood.

He always knew it would. The thing is a predator of supernatural origin, and the dread of what it inevitably is capable of has lived in Edward's heart from its initial hauntings. Along with other dreads, other fears, and he might have been tormented further by the prospect of what horrors it might cause to those he cares for. For weeks, even longer than that, he's worried and to some extent expected the worse in regard to the creature.

But nothing can prepare him for when it actually happens. When it comes to his doorstep in the form of Wynonna and Fitzjames, bleeding into one another and barely able to stand.

What happens after is a flurry — he helps Kate however he can, fetches whatever's needed, hurriedly prepares beds, mind a dizzy frantic buzz, hands moving and moving until there's nothing left to do with them. And then comes the waiting, and the opportunity to really process, to absorb and digest and think, because something is even more wrong beneath what's gone wrong, beneath the blood that can be cleaned and the wounds that can be healed by Kate's ability.

Wynonna hasn't woken up. She fell down and didn't get back up, sprawled unconscious right on the floor, and she didn't get back up, and it's been one day, then two, and she didn't get back up—

They can't determine a cause for it. And if he'd known what Tuunbaq was said to be capable of, if he'd ever learned of what it hungered for, what it fed upon, he might think that Wynonna had fallen to the same sort of fate. As it is, Edward has no frame of reference for what ails her. She just— sleeps, and she's completely unreachable. If he weren't staring so much at the subtle movements of her throat, listening for the soft echoes of breath, he might think her dead. Every hour he dreads the fear that she might slip into death, that there will come a time when her throat doesn't move, when no breath sounds so softly, when he touches a hand to her skin and feels it cold and empty.

He barely leaves her side for those forty-eight hours, a diligent presence — at times in his other form, because the beast allows him to feel and perceive things in a way his human self cannot, senses all wide-open and alert. He curls up beside Wynonna in the bed (a thing he ordinarily couldn't do and a thing he's capable of now, the wolf's brain no longer concerned with its human side's trepidations.) Like this he's warm and safe, and every part of him can stay alert for her, protective.

But it's his human side that can administer a certain care. Blankets freshly tucked and adjusted around her, even though she hasn't moved. Water tipped carefully to her mouth, one hand gently coaxing her head upwards for a brief moment, eyes staring down at her motionless features. In these moments, he searches for her way deep down, mind and heart and spirit seeking her out inside — trying to find that connection between them that's vanished now, although at times he swears he still feels it... glinting red there in the darkness of everything else. But he can't read her, can't understand whatever might be happening inside of her. It terrifies him. He stays close.

There are other things that have gone wrong. Things inside of him. A dream— and a weakness, and a hunger. And these days, the sunlight almost seems to hurt him, even if not so directly, not a searing to his skin but something... beneath. A tiredness, a fatigue, something almost comparable to the ache and exhaustion he'd experienced way out on the ice over a year ago now. It seeps down into the core of him, leaves him gasping and dizzy and so afraid. The night brings solace, the darkness a safe cloak, and with it he comes alive in ways he never has before, at least... never as a human. As the wolf, he knows what this is: senses prickled, everything so open and aware and strong. There's an awful, animal-like strength in the darkness. And this, too, is a thing he's always dreaded, come to find him at last. Even as a human man, he's become something dark, something— monstrous. And he's so, so hungry.

He doesn't speak of it in those two days, forces himself through all of his own worse moments. It's mid-afternoon now, and he's drawn the curtains in the room to at least shield himself from the light. Only a small amount filters in through cracks and spaces he can't quite conceal, but the room is comfortably dark now. Edward keeps a few candles lit on a shelf along the wall. He sits there in an armchair facing the bed where Wynonna sleeps and sleeps and sleeps. Mostly he's still and silent, but there's a time when he gets up again, a time when his heart is so tight in his throat that he can barely breathe, when every worry and every fear about what is happening to him meets every worry and every fear about what has happened to her, and he can barely stand it, breathing too fast in his rising upset, eyes wide—

He moves to her, and though the red thread is no longer a thing he can look down to and follow, there's a familiar comfort as he approaches the unconscious woman. His dear friend. His... her. He moves very slowly and quietly to her bedside, resting one hand there upon the blankets. He closes his eyes, steadying himself. She's always made him stronger, and even now....

When he opens his eyes again, he can breathe more properly again, but his eyes are swimming with emotion as he stares down to her face. She's here, she's right here where he can keep her safe, but he's so deeply afraid that he's lost her. He can't— he can't lose her.

Gently, that hand lifts, fingers delicately brushing strands of warm brown from her cheek. He remembers thinking that he might do this once before, back when she'd pressed herself impossibly close to him, eyes so wide and swimming as they stared up at him, pupils blown big and black. Swallowing against the lump wedged low in his throat, Edward's thumb slowly lingers there at her cheek, then moves back, forwards and back, lightly stroking the soft curve there. His other hand lifts, curling into the material of blanket against her body; he bows his head so low that his nose almost nudges against her shoulder, heart splitting wide open, a plea spilling right out of it as though she could possibly hear its voice. Come back. Please come back to me.

After some time he finally pulls back, and his hand is the last to move away, palm lingering there, cupping her cheek. Then he's stepping back with a faint creak of wood.

A few hours later, the sun is hanging lower in the cold sky. As it fades, the danger of it does too, but he still keeps the curtains drawn. He's tired, though, head drooping down towards his own chest, eyes fluttering closed; he sleeps in small amounts, never for long, and if he needs to sleep for longer amounts of time then it would be as the wolf, so that his senses would be sharper, to keep awareness over her. (But in the night itself he can feel that sensation rising again anyway; in the night, he's stronger now. He thinks if anything were to try to find her, hurt her, he could stop it. He could do what it takes to stop it under the dark blanket of sky. He doesn't understand yet that the hunger he feels could grant him temporary control of those other strange abilities; but something deep down in him knows, and opens its mouth open wide, yearning to taste, to inhale and consume.)

He breathes slow, eyes closed, asleep but not deeply. His armchair is near her bed — close. ]

[brushoff]

There's a very long pause before Dorian deliberately thinks, Interesting.

Because there's a little part of him who knows that what he is, what he did, that's different. This wasn't Enola. This was something else entirely. And as he doesn't exactly know how to deal with this, exactly how to grapple with this situation, he sure as shit is going to try and focus his thoughts on everything except what happened.

I'm at the church, he thinks in return. I've decided to live there. Where are you?

[moralabsolutism]

"On a roof nearby," Rorschach explained. That may have sounded a bit odd and maybe like Rorschach had possibly misspoken. Or maybe that he was actually a cat. But it wasn't. He really was on the top of a roof, surveying the town as he often did at night. He began to climb down, unusually graceful as he descended for someone of his size and stature.

"Surprised anyone would live there after the bodies were found," he remarked, deliberately probing to see how much anyone had told Dorian about the Darkwalker massacre which had happened...had it really been about a year ago now? Time certainly flew, especially trying to survive in this place.

[notarat]

"Hmm," Billy hums affirmatively. "Go ahead."

It's not like he's going to need it anymore for now. He has already changed his clothes for bed, and as the other man is asking him that question, he's already moving to settle fully into bed as well.

Sure, he could talk about the thing he wants to bring up while the light is still on. But the thing is that Billy is pretty sure that his husband is going to be weird about the topic he wants to bring up. Maybe Billy is hoping that if they're all bundled up in bed, it'll somehow decrease the weird factor of all of it. Maybe Hickey will be able to talk about something in a non-weird way for once.

Maybe miracles do exist. (Or not.)

So he waits until Hickey joins him in bed, and only when the two of them are lying there in the dark does Billy say, after a moment: "Cornelius, earlier today you called me pack."

– James Fitzjames

[pacificator]

[ The Auroras are back.

The one a few days before hadn't taken Wynonna home, even after she'd berated the blank sky those weeks before the storm, when Little found her and the Old Bear had come charging out of the woods. Instead she'd dreamed of that night: slipping and falling in the snow, the bear thundering towards her... only she'd been alone, with no Edward to fling himself between her and the monster, or to drag her back across the frozen waste to safety. She'd looked up into the beast's steaming, slavering jaws, and felt the rancid heat of its breath as it roared.

In her dream, she'd drawn Peacemaker, just like she had in the forest that day with Fitzjames; felt the smooth one-two-three clicks of resistance as she thumbed the hammer down. In her dream, Peacemaker's barrel flickered orange and gold, tongues of flame chasing themselves along the metal, as she stared down along the sight at the bear's wide red mouth and glistening white teeth.

And it had stopped. It hadn't attacked. She never pulled the trigger, and it never took that last leap to be on her, and when she woke up, it was with a new feeling of vitality. Everything has seemed a little easier ever since: cutting and stacking wood, carrying furniture, making the long trek from Lakeside to Milton in her human form instead of as the wolf. She's felt a little more on edge, too, but hell, it's not like she's not dealing with enough stuff to make being a little on edge practically as relaxed as a yoga pant wearing divorcee after half a bottle of Chardonnay, comparatively speaking.

(They never had found Goodsir. She knows it's eating Edward up inside, and she knows it's hurting Kate, and Irving, and so many of the others, and this place will continue to take and take and take until none of them have anything left.)

The bear is still out there. Worse, it's starting actually attacking people now, leaving a few injured and shaken, which would generally be a good reason to stay the hell away from it (Edward had been terrified of the thing hurting her even before it managed to turn corporeal, and he's not wrong), but it only means one thing to her: if it can turn solid enough to hurt people now, it can turn solid enough for them to hurt it back.

The only other person here she knows who might be willing to take another stab at taking it out (aside from Bigby, who's got his own problems right now) is the same guy she had the most success with before. It's not long after the first few injured Interlopers start turning up, talking about Young Bill and spears and the Old Bear's terrifying strength that Wynonna goes looking for him: James Fitzjames.

It feels weird to be hunting through the woods with him again, as dusk settles and the Aurora begins to wash the darkening sky with strange color. She feels it like waves of heat in her belly, apprehensive but with a strange, sharp edge of anticipation. ]

Déjà vu, huh?

Randvi | Assassin’s Creed: Valhalla

[meadqueen]

[Starters will be posted below. I will match either prose or brackets. Plotting comment here. Feel free to wildcard under this comment, or contact me via plurk at nonhoration or discord at nonhoration with ideas.]

Open Starters

[meadqueen]

The Aurora: Tertiarius

It's probably not shocking that Randvi dreams about a bear. Unlike the usual nightmares, however, this time she's not helpless. The bear roars in her face, and she screams in defiance. She wakes up feeling strong and powerful, anger still burning in her stomach.

Bears here have maimed her, killed Ragnar, frightened her friends. It will no longer stand. It's like she's remembering who she is. She's ready to fight.

The Hunted: Part Two

The attacks by the bear in reality continue to escalate, and it seems much more solid now. Arrows still do nothing, and while hiding in the bushes and using her newly discovered anger to deter it with her fire is working for now, it will not hold forever. Injuries continue to rack up in the village, and something needs to be done.

When the information from Young Bill comes in, it fills her with both hope and a sense of purpose.

Crossing to Lakeside on her own is still a bit of a concern, though. She approaches people she knows. "Are you planning a trip to Lakeside soon?"

Don't Sleep

The last time an apparition had haunted her sleep, Randvi had nearly died. At that time, only the kindness of strangers had saved her. It means that she has to speak of it, to the people in her own household primarily but to others as well.

"Have you seen anything strange recently?"

Chloe Frazer | Uncharted

[desperate_times_right]

[Starters will be posted below. I will match either prose or brackets. Plotting comment here. Feel free to wildcard under this comment, or contact me via plurk at nonhoration or discord at nonhoration with ideas.]

Open starters

[desperate_times_right]

The Aurora: Tertiarius

The auroras are getting more and more common lately. It's nice in some ways, but annoying in others, especially how it curtails her night hunting in her wolf form. It really is beautiful, though. The night of the meteor shower, Chloe watches a bit wistfully from the farmhouse roof, then slips through her window to go to sleep.

She dreams of Enola, and of the Darkwalker. She dreams of being devoured, and wakes up sick and screaming. The fear abates once she realizes where she is, but the sickness doesn't.

Chloe barely leaves her bed the next day, or the day after that. On the evening of the second day, despite other problems (creepy bedroom corner ghost) she awakens refreshed but so hungry, in a way that food doesn't really seem to help. This could be a problem.

Despite the late hour, she has some people she needs to visit.

Don't Sleep

So. It turns out that sleeping during the day doesn't actually deter the creepy bedroom corner ghost. This means that Chloe is spending an inordinate amount of her nights trying to get someone to spend the day with her so she can actually get some fucking sleep without getting jumpscared (or killed or whatever).

Anyone out at night might find themselves approached. "Hey, you got a minute?"

For Furiosa

[desperate_times_right]

Chloe really should have known that enough people are invested in her greenhouse that they'd notice when she isn't there for a few days. She's awake for once, but sick and miserable when she hears someone at her door.

She opens the door a crack and immediately feels worse. Why is the sun so bright?

"What?"

For Billy Gibson

[desperate_times_right]

As soon as Chloe can go outside again, she knows she needs to go and find Hickey. Everyone seems to think that he knows a lot about the Darkwalker, and if this was a shared dream, he might have the best guess as to what it means.

That's how she winds up at the door of his and Billy's little cabin in the middle of the night. As she knocks, she hopes they don't think she's another person trying to attack them. She's not sure she's strong enough to fight back.

[gildedlife]

[James has been not been having the best last few months. Between all that happened during the ice storm, Goodsir's disappearance, the fading of the strings, and the lack of anything else to really distract himself with instead of dwelling on it all, James' mood has been so low that the time has passed in some of a daze. It had felt endlessly long, and yet he'd done next to nothing in that span of time.

So it was almost a relief when he'd heard the ghost bear had stepped up its attacks, and then of course he'd felt immediately guilty for that thought. His need to do something that feels worthwhile does not outweigh the need for people here to be safe, and he shouldn't be glad there's a threat to be dealing with.

But there is, and perhaps this is something he can actually do something about. By the time Wynonna comes looking for him he's found out that this creature is also susceptible to congreves--seems a universal amongst ghost-bears--and so he only has two remaining, but although the rocket had worked to scare the thing off, that isn't the goal of this hunting trip. They're trying to stop the bear permanently, not simply frighten it away.

So it does indeed feel a bit like deja vu, as James finds a good place to set up the ladder launcher and hide it amongst some brush, along with the two remaining rockets. He'd brought them just in case, as a possible back up plan, because he really isn't sure if the guns are going to work and even he's not reckless enough to make the same mistake twice.

At least not in an identical manner, anyway.]

So it seems, although I hope the feeling will soon fade.

[After all, this better not go exactly the same way. They're going to succeed this time, do the thing some damage, hopefully put a stop to its threat entirely.

And James has no plans of falling off any more cliffs again.

He finishes with the congreves, picking up his rife and returning to where Wynonna's standing.]

Are you certain about this?

[Not that he doubts she is, but the plan is certainly more dangerous this time around. It seems only right to ask.]

B

[desperate_times_right]

[Chloe looks just as horrible as you'd imagine after recovering from an illness and then not being able to sleep safely afterward.]

No, but I have a different problem. I can't sleep at night now.

[cactusy]

Oh. That sucks.

[She flops back against the pillows, then wiggles to the side, moving over to make room should Chloe choose to join her.]

Maybe company will help with the insomnia.

[Surely insomnia is what she means, right?]

A

[meadqueen]

[It's the dog who finds her first. Randvi has been nervous to attempt the trip to Lakeside under current conditions and at first she worries that Ulfrùn’s barking is a sign that the bear has emerged again. However, it seems that it had passed this way some time ago.

She ducks under an outcropping, stomach sinking at the amount of blood. Ulfrùn licks at the woman’s face in concern, and Randvi kneels next to her. She's met this woman before, she thinks, but she doesn't know her well.]

Can you hear me? I can help you.

[desperate_times_right]

[Chloe sits on the edge of the bed. She trusts Shaw to keep a level head and not freak out, but that's a rare trait here so she tries to keep her voice down.]

I can't sleep at night. Going out in the daytime makes me sick.

[brushoff]

Any attempts at holding his thoughts back and keeping himself calm and neutral flies out of the window as Dorian thinks, without hesitation,

Bodies?! Nobody mentioned any bodies! What bodies? When? How recent? For fuck's sake, don't tell me I'm living in...I don't know, a serial murderer's house or something like that. I've already dealt with haunted buildings back home!

Urrrgh, if he's going to have to deal with fucking ghosts again, he'll be very put out.