I'm allied to the winter

[singmod]

JULY 2025 EVENT

PROMPT ONE: BURIED ECHOES: The green fog from fissures that had begun to appear last month takes on a new form of attack, and Interlopers find themselves forced to share their greatest betrayals and deepest shames.

PROMPT TWO: ADURERE: The Interlopers are not the only ones caught in the current machinations, and return to Milton House once more.

PROMPT THREE — TERRITORY: Interlopers who venture out to the Last Resort Cannery come face to face with the Timberwolf packs who have claimed the place as their own — high risk, high reward.

BURIED ECHOES

WHEN: The Month of July
WHERE: Everywhere.
CONTENT WARNINGS: atmospheric changes; mild mental manipulation; memory sharing.

In June, a green fog began to curl upwards from fissures dotted around the Northern Territories — warping Interlopers into frenzies of rage or fear. These afflictions have ended up easing as the month turns over into July but the vapours themselves don’t dissipate. At first, they begin the mingle in the air, like a drop of ink in water — causing a green hue to taint the atmosphere. When one looks around, it's almost like the faint sepia tone that obscures the lens of daylight at sunset some days. The skies feel darker, the days are dull, and green.

There’s a distinct tingle of fear in the air. Something low rumbling — a constant drone in the background.

The reach of these green vapours extend even further as the month goes on. The fogs will grow thicker in places and at times will extend to filling huge spaces of areas quickly and silently. You could be out in the wilds, travelling alone the tracks in Lakeside, or making your way down the Coastal Highway when the fog drifts in.

It doesn’t take long before it encompasses you entirely.

With it, the skies darken further. The world turns to night, lit by the eerie green, and everything feels empty and fraught. For plenty of Interlopers, this is a familiar experience, and a sensation of fear washes over you. Or most of you.

You hear whispers in the fog: a chorus of frightened voices chittering nervously. And then out of that chorus comes a voice that is old and terrible.

She binds me, but she cannot banish me. I am coming for you, Interloper. You cannot be rid of me. The Darkwalker, you realise. It is reaching out to you within the fog.

The Yawning Grave has been opened, and I am so very hungry. One way, or another — I am coming for you. I will break you, consume you. You will go into the Dark.

The Darkwalker has its ways of coming for Interlopers, that is well known by now. The fog shifts and swirls around you. As you watch it, familiar shapes begin to form — a room, a place. Somewhere familiar to you, but it doesn’t fill you with comfort. You remember this place, and you find yourself within a moment of your history. It is not a fond moment.

The memory that forms around you and begins to play out is a memory of your greatest betrayal, your deepest regret. The thing that brings you the most shame. You and your companion will witness this — and there's no escaping this.

The Darkwalker has ways of coming for Interlopers, yes. It has ways of trying to break you down. Your deepest fears and insecurities, showing you for what you truly are; isolating you from the world around you, finding ways to lead you into the Dark. You are the Interloper, after all. You are not part of nature’s design. One way or another, it will break you down and put an end to you. To pull you apart. Now it seeks to show who you truly are to others — a moment where you find yourself at your worst.

Bonds between Interlopers are strong, but are all secrets revealed to the ones you’ve come to know and trust? Do you still have skeletons in your closet? A moment you have tried so desperately to keep buried and hidden from those around you?

No more. The question is whether the people you’ve come to know and trust will be able to look at you the same way again.

ADURERE

WHEN: Late July.
WHERE: Milton House… ?
CONTENT WARNINGS: fire; house fire; death of a child/children; hauntings; illusions of burning/being burned; potential injuries via falling/unstable building collapsing; dead bodies; gore/blood/maimed bodies; body horror; eye-related trauma/horror.

You wake up in a bed that is not yours. The air is still and cold, and for a moment everything is calm. It is night time. You are not the only one who wakes up with you, another Interloper has found themselves sharing the bed with you — maybe it’s someone you know, maybe it’s an Interloper you’ve yet to meet. But you’re in a strange home you don’t recognise, and you’re not sure what’s happened.

You have a little time to get your bearings, at least — to explore the room itself. The furniture is a little more refined from what you’ve come to know in Milton: well-made and old. The master bedroom is that of a husband and wife. There are family photos on one of the dressers: a wedding photo of a happy bride and groom in the late 1970s or early 1980s; a photo of two small boys stood in Milton Basin, holding up freshly-caught fish; a photo of a sad young girl on a tree swing.

Interlopers who have been in the Northern Territories for some time will come to realise that the family in these photos is the Barker family. The young girl is Enola. You have found yourselves within Milton House, before the fire.

If you had turned on a light to explore, power goes out. There is smoke in the air.

You hear the crackle of flames from beyond the bedroom door. Opening it into the corridor will reveal a fiery inferno, and the distant screams of children.

But there’s something different about this place, just as there has been last time. Even with the blaze, the home does not look at is should. While it looks like the burning, ruined insides of Milton House, it feels more like a maze than anything. The walls warp around you and at sudden moments, tree branches will break and jut out from the walls, burning and snapping and falling before you.

Together, you must work to escape the burning home. Getting out of this place will be far more difficult than those who found themselves in this place well over a year ago. Turning down the corridor in search of the stairs brings only more corridors, opening doors to bedrooms in search of a window will bring you to more corridors, too.

Persist, and you’ll find the stairs eventually. And like last time, the heat and smoke feel real and may even cause you pain but the flames won’t actually burn you. Whatever this is, as real as it feels, there’s some kind of illusion to all of this just as it had done before.

But what didn’t happen before is the sight that greets you as you finally head downstairs.

In the ruined mess of the blazing inferno that is the living room, bodies litter the floor. They pile on top of one another, covering every inch of floor, slumped against the walls. There must be some seventy or more bodies here. Some are harder to look at than others: some are coated in blood and wounds, some caused by animals, some by humans; some lie in crumpled, contorted messes; some are half-frozen; some are barely recognisable.

Looking at these bodies, as difficult as it may be, will bring the awful realisation: these are the bodies of Interlopers who have died within the Northern Territories. Some you recognise, people you knew only too well. Interlopers who have died at the hands of the Darkwalker, of Mother Nature itself, of other Interlopers; each of them appearing just as they had died in this place.

What’s more: scattered in amongst these bodies are the bodies of the Barker family: Thomas and his sons — half-charred and blackened by the smoke and flame.

In amongst this carnage, there’s a figure kneeling on the floor. A woman, dressed in furs, her hands covering her face. Some may recognise her as Enola, and you realise: this is Enola’s deepest regret. What brings her the most shame, her greatest betrayal.

Interlopers may choose to leave, if they wish. Making a break for a window or a door will bring them out into the snow and the world will snap to normal — you find yourselves outside Milton House, green fog swirling around you and fading with a low echo of laughter: the Darkwalker.

But others may choose to go to Enola, to try and help her, to try and end this memory of hers.

Enola feels real when you touch her. Managing to pull her hands away, you’ll realise something is very wrong. Even more wrong than all of this. Those who have seen her before in dreams, or when she appeared to Interlopers in June last year will note that she appears very different. Enola looks gaunt, exhausted — and more frightening: her left side of her face is black and withered, her eye absent from the socket.

It’s hard to say what’s happened to her, but Interlopers may draw their own conclusions and suspicions.

“It’s my fault.” she’ll whisper. “It’s all my fault, it’s all my fault. I caused it.”

Enola seems almost catatonic, and cannot seem to engage with Interlopers at first. She will rock slightly as she kneels, her one blue eye staring into nothing, her expression wounded.

“It’s my fault, it’s my fault— I couldn’t.. I couldn’t make it stop.” she continued. “I didn’t mean it, I— I tried, I tried so hard to stop it— I never meant for it, I’m sorry. I’m so sorry.”

The house groans and shudders around you. Enola will look up, tears streaming down her face.

“I didn’t mean for this. I didn’t mean it.”

Speaking to Enola softly, offering words of encouragement or comfort will slowly begin to calm her down. It will take some time to calm her in this terrible place, but she will respond to it. She seems almost child-like: cowed and broken and small. She looks so tired.

“They were meant to be home.” she tells you. “And I ruined it.”

When Interlopers have calmed her down enough, she’ll finally look at you, like she finally sees you again. For the first time in this moment, she sees you in a way that’s hard to put into words. She reaches for your face, your chest, touches you gently — her expression is so sad, quietly crushed by the care from you.

“I’m sorry.”

In a blink, everything snaps to normal. No bodies, no flames. No Enola. Just the rotted insides of a broken, ruined home — curls of green smoke drifting upwards, out through the cracks of the walls.

TERRITORY

WHEN: The Month of July.
WHERE: Last Resort Cannery, The Coast.
CONTENT WARNINGS: themes of survival; gore; human remains; (wild) animal attacks, altered wildlife, possible character injury/death, possible (wild) animal injury/death.

Moving towards the south east from the village of Silverpoint will bring Interlopers along the cracked and crumbling road that loads to Last Resort Cannery: a complex of several warehouses and workshops, and has long since fallen into disrepair. Most of its staff were employed by the village of Silverpoint, and with some even coming from Milton to work — but economic decline has seen the company fall into hard times.

Murmurings from around the village will have Interlopers discovering that there may be some leftover stock that is still usable, such as canned goods, but the villagers have found it incredibly difficult to scavenge there, due to the increase in hostile wildlife. Many villagers that have attempted to travel there have never returned, and those who have, have returned maimed, injured, often dying due to their injuries — and Silverpoint residents have often persuaded Interlopers not to go there.

Interlopers, however, are made of sturdier stuff these days, and maybe it’s worth checking the place out in hopes of finding some useful loot.

The Cannery itself sits right along the coastline, and incredibly bitter and open — much like most of the Coast’s area. As Interlopers head closer, they will soon discover exactly what the villagers spoke of: the frozen, grisly and often skeletal remains of those who have tried to venture forth scattered around the area, torn backpacks and clothing — as if the bodies have been consumed by animals.

Not even Jace has been out here to scavenge, either out of safety, or respect for the dead.

Most of the buildings are open to the elements, having been hit hard by the extreme weather — and provide little in the way of shelter. But not all of them are so open. There are some buildings that will provide ample shelter: warehouses and factory floors, even some small staff breakroom quarters. There are even spaces where it appears that some of the workers even lived on site, with bunk beds and shower facilities.

There will, indeed, be crates filled with canned goods that remain in relatively good condition: mostly canned sardines, tuna and salmon. Interlopers may find seafood soups, too. But there’s an overall theme: the Cannery is a processing place of fish and seafood, after all. However, that is not everything that is housed within the Cannery’s site. Explorers will be able to find heavy but durable work clothes and boots, along with survival tools and equipment that belonged to workers. There are workshops that could be used during the Aurora — which can be used to repair tools and… interestingly: craft ammunition.

A spray painted wall reads: THEY HATE THE LIGHT. Another reads: LOUD NOISES = GOOD FOR SCARES. Another, more ominously: THIS PLACE WANTS US ALL DEAD.

Why would such a plan require a workshop in order to craft ammunition? It might have something to do with the culprits behind the grisly finds Interlopers have come across in their approach to the Cannery itself: the packs of Timberwolves that have made their home here and often prowl the area. And soon enough, they will come running.

A lone howl on the wind, carried on the air. More joining the first. Then, the demonic chittering and growling as one of the packs descend upon the Interlopers. Fortunately, these timberwolves are not quite like the wolves faced by Interlopers right at the very start of their time in the Northern Territories — but they are still altered in terms of the Aurora: smarter, and far more aggressive that wolves have ever been known to be.

They do function in a similar manner, at least. Pack morale is important, and breaking that morale can send them back. If they’re broken, their morale is depleted. Fire is your biggest friend: torches, campfires and flares will keep them mostly at bay and only the bravest of these packs may attack. Striking them with flares or flames will actually send them into brief retreats. Bullets and arrows are effective with both noise and injuring the wolves, and although hitting one will be difficult due their speed, it’s possible. Killing one of these wolves will dissolve the pack’s morale entirely, and the rest will flee.

And at least then, for a while, you might be able to scavenge in peace — and make it out alive.

FAQs

BURIED ECHOES


1. The memories cannot be interacted with in any way.

2. Interlopers with Darkwalker’s Revenge will feel slightly revitalised in general during the month of July and be extra revitalised during these heavy fog instances. They will feel fit, hale and alert — probably the best they’ve ever felt in a long time due to the polar sun.

3. Memories can be from a character's future in their canon, not just their past.


ADURERE

1. All Interlopers who have died in game can be found within this prompt. This will also confirm the deaths of Interlopers who have been missing but never confirmed dead and also confirm Interlopers who have simply gone home. You can check out the Interloper Masterlist for further details.

2. Interacting with Enola is optional. Interlopers may choose to simply escape house and the memory.

3. Interlopers have limited interaction with the memory. They can look at things, or even touch the dead down in the living room, but not remove anything from the house.

4. Characters will not be physically burned in the fire, but only feel as if they have been. The effects of this illusion will last a short time after they're out the house before they will fade.

5. The only real injuries characters can sustain will be from fall damage, or if the floor gives way and their feet go through, etc. whilst in the house.

6. Please see the January 2024 Event Prompt ‘Adust’, or the Areas Page, or the October 2024 Mini Event under the February 1994 for further information/context.

7. Interlopers who are in Milton will find themselves in Milton House when the memory/illusion ends. Interlopers in other areas of the world will find themselves in a random, rundown/dilapitated home found in that area.

TERRITORY

1. You do not have to kill a Timberwolf to scare off the pack, simply defeating the pack's morale with noise and flame is sufficient to scare them off for several hours.

2. Timberwolf packs typically range from three to seven wolves.

PLOTTING POST

Comments

matt murdock | mcu

[avo]

[ open and closed starters below | plotting comment for matt can be found here, or contact me over on plurk or PM to hash out any further details. ]

●●● 𝐵𝑈𝑅𝐼𝐸𝐷 𝐸𝐶𝐻𝑂𝐸𝑆 — ;

[avo]

[ He might not be able to see the colour, but Matt Murdock, newly minted Interloper and Just a Lawyer Guy, can feel the thickness in the air with each breath he takes in. It's not the frigid air of a never ending winter. It's different, bitter on the tongue. And it's rife with unease, the kind that could permeate every pore of his body, drawing out an internal discomfort with every exhale.

He tries for as long as he can not to let it affect him.

And it works — at least for a while.

Weeks since his arrival have passed and his senses are still numbed, like he's underwater, a condition he's slowly getting accustomed to in a way he'd refused back in New York. Maybe it's the environment, or the fact that he's Tired upon Round 2, but he isn't giving into despair this time, for whatever it's worth — Father Lantom would be proud (/s).

He takes to exploring Milton a little every day and occupying the other half of his time helping out in the community hall. Everything feels like it's slowly turning into a new kind of normal, however much that might mean being stranded in a new plane of existence with a bunch of strangers from other worlds at half-capacity. The haze of fog seems easy enough to avoid but as the weeks go on, several patches of fog seem to move directly into his path of travel. They're not targeting him exactly, but they're not keeping a polite distance either.

If you happen to be out and about, you can find Matt:

(☀) Walking along the perimeter of the Basin, wisely avoiding its frozen surface for now. He has a small tote-sack with him for foragables, but admittedly the bag is mostly empty. Foraging the woods for berries and kindling just isn't a skill he's ever learned in the Big City.

(🌙) cw: descriptions of violence — It's hard to avoid stepping directly into thicker patches of the green fog, it's become so prevalent across the landscape. Breathing it in, everything starts to feel darker and heavier. Matt starts to hear voices — all-too-familiar ones, in fact. You might hear him call out the names 'Karen' or 'Foggy' like he's confused, as though he's trying to listen out for whatever they're trying to tell him but you're only getting his part of the conversation — at least for now. Silhouettes of tall city skyscrapers slot themselves into the carved out rock of the basin, as though growing directly out of it like tree branches, and then you hear the chatter and ambient noise of a densely populated city: car horns, traffic stops, people coming and going, the sound of a train rolling over tracks ...

Matt suddenly collapses to one knee, clutching at his side as though he's been beaten. Wounds bloom over his skin in blue and red welts, the memory locked only inside his head now being externally replayed before you.

Fisk, he hisses out as you can do nothing but watch a looming figure of a large bald man, intimidating, focused, and decidedly unhinged essentially beat your companion bloody, nearly to an inch of his life. The sound of brick-like fists smashing against flesh and bone without restraint echo in your ears. The memory takes you further, through blurred visions of a too-loud city around you, as you and Matt stumble to get to an apartment, lit up only by the bright magenta neon billboard just outside the window. No other light switches seem to work; there isn't a need for that when you can't see, after all.

Matt collapses onto the floor, leaving red smudges of blood over the carpet.

I couldn't stop him ... I can't stop him ... if I just —

OR

(☀) At the Church and its surrounding grounds (including the graveyard), located right on the outskirts of town. He isn't surprised to find a chapel here; it'd be more of a shock to find a place without some sort of house of worship. He lingers inside for a moment, either standing before the main altar in the nave, or seated for a moment in one of the aisles.

Later in the afternoon, he'll be out in the graveyard, occasionally pulling one of his gloves off to graze cold fingertips along the engravings etched into stone, trying to read the names. Most of them appear to have been smoothed down with time, making it difficult to get very much out of it. It doesn't stop him from trying anyway.

(🌙) Maybe it gets too late, or the fog plays tricks on time because the sky is suddenly dark, smudging out any view of the Church and the graveyard beyond. You also appear to be on your own now — no sign of Matt anywhere. But you can hear him — well, you can hear a fight and he's involved — until everything quiets to a soft murmur of voices. You might feel like you're about to interrupt something you shouldn't, when above and all around you, the sound of explosions and cracking concrete, glass shattering, and the structure around you caving in fill your sound and vision. You might think this is it; it wouldn't be out of the realm of possibility, because that's exactly how Matt feels in this moment. It's acceptance and knowing that no matter what happens now, you didn't leave her alone to die.

You didn't leave her alone. You didn't leave her.

But when the dust settles and the silence deafens in your ears, you might rub your eyes to a small, austere bedroom in which you see Matt lying in bed, a complete mess, but somehow ... alive.

And beside you, Matt — present Matt — swallows.

In the end, she died but I didn't, he says quietly.

NOTE — essentially feel free to treat the first part of the prompt as a non-memory share for a more gen experience; otherwise, we get into memshare territory. ]

Clair spoilers gonna be here eventually

[shewhograspsthesky]

[With her return from Silverpoint, she's found herself wandering Milton at any and every point as if to stave off some grasp boredom or loneliness has tried to have over her. But not all of her wandering is wholly aimless. When fog builds along one road, she turns for another. This place has taught her to distrust fog, distrust the wind, and deal with the cold.

From every turn and act of avoidance, it leads her by the church and the graveyard beside it. Alone there stands a man and for a quiet moment she watches him. It's a wonder if he knows these graves or these people after she had been told that the people of the town, the original people, were long gone. The thought settles onto her shoulders but she doesn't want to disturb him. She wouldn't want to be bothered by a stranger in a graveyard.

Yet just as she turns to continue her way, she sees the fog crawl and slither between the buildings and now the graves. She can't really yell, she can't really warn him. So she tries to run up to the man instead. Her voice a rough grating sound, even as she closes the gap between them.]

Hey, you need to--

[She slows, she's barely ten steps from him now, but as she pauses she witnesses or hears his memory through the fog. Even after the intruding sounds clear she looks between the man and the grave he stands over, wondering.]

What was.. that?


[OOC Note: Lemme know if anything needs adjustinggggg!]

im good with spoilies! (and yes! i can work with this c: )

[avo]

[ Matt remains still as ever, a solemn figure watching the memory — his memory — unfold around him and whoever else might have the misfortune of stepping within his space to share in it.

The fight, that last stand, his attempt to save Elektra, and the inevitability of their deaths ...

He lets out a breath when the fog seems to dissipate, taking the memory with it — but not the hollowed out feeling that it leaves him with, so he's still winded by it. It had happened so recently, a memory with barely any distance to soften the blow.

And the woman that joins him — well, he offers her an apologetic shrug but it's not difficult to notice that despite his supposed calm demeanor, he looks a little shaken. ]

I'm sorry you had to see that. [ He's still not sure how this whole thing works, or why. ] It's ... something that happened to me.

apologies as the whole thing gets derailed instantly lol

[shewhograspsthesky]

It's okay. It's--

[Wait. What?]

You sound familiar...

[The ten step distance shortens as she moves closer. Something is wrong and doesn't fit but she still would rather see for herself. There's a name on the tip of her tongue that doesn't make any sense. More tricks of this fog?]

lmao all good we go w the flow in this house 😌

[avo]

[ It's this moment of distraction that allows him the time to process an explanation for what had just happened and why, why this memory, why now, and what questions is he going to have to dodge?

He doesn't take too much stock in her comment yet — there's no real reason to. But he senses her approach and he remains where he is, polite, unassuming, completely harmless. ]

I get that a lot.

[ It's kind of a joke, given that his alter-ego secret identity runs around making a name for himself, but it probably holds a little more truth than he should be comfortable with. ]

But I assure you, I'm a newcomer here.

[solitarysoul]

[Levi passes by the church multiple times a day in his patrols around town, so when he spots Matt in the graveyard he diverts his course. His approach is quiet out of habit but he's not trying to be sneaky.]

I'm not sure who a lot of those are for.

[He doesn't think he knows this guy. Must be a new arrival.]

[avo]

[ Sneaking around him seems to be an easier feat these days, ever since he'd arrived here. His hearing, while still good enough not to trigger some fight or flight response, still feels like he's constantly underwater. There are moments of clarity, but they are far and few between.

Still, he's got a poker face for days, and if Levi startled him, he makes no show of it. ]

Well, that makes two of us.

[ Definitely a new arrival. ]

They don't teach history lessons around here, I'm guessing?

[solitarysoul]

Not about what happened before we all got here. The old man almost never tells us anything useful.

[Most of the graves since they got here aren't marked. At least not with stones as ornate and obvious as the head stones in the graveyard.]

[avo]

That would be the old man we first met when arriving here?

[ He's beginning to tell that there are a lot more questions to be asked than there are answers freely given, but he'll chalk it up to being brand new to this place. ]

●●● 𝐴𝐷𝑈𝑅𝐸𝑅𝐸 — ;

[avo]

[ The first thing that Matt does when he opens his eyes, shuffling around for his sunglasses and cane, is to make sure that his fellow companion — you — are okay. It might be an awkward thing to wake up next to someone you don't know or barely know, but Matt takes it in stride.

There are, after all, more important questions right now.

He'll suggest a quick investigation of the room, and a scan for the fastest way out of this strange house. With the layout of the room and its furniture committed to memory, he starts to look over the details. Fingertips feel out the edges of the picture frames, for example. One by one, they graze over the smoothness of the glass. He can't tell what or who the photograph might depict in each of the different shaped frames, but he can tell, at the very least, that they must be important. That they might even help to tell a story. ]

Do you know who lived here?

[ And then he hears it from just beyond the bedroom door, just before he smells it too — the crackling of flame and the combustion of wood, the echo of screams (it sounds like kids), and burning smoke filling the air. ]

Wait, someone else is here. We need to get them and ourselves out. Now.

[ Without hesitation, like navigating his way through burning buildings is a typical Saturday afternoon activity, Matt will:

head down the corridor, skimming his way along the walls that seem to shrink and change shape before him. Where he's sure there's the landing for the stairs, there's a bedroom door instead. A washroom leads to a closet. A closet leads to a bedroom.

He pauses, confused.

Perhaps this isn't so straight-forward after all? He'll ask you to be his eyes for this one. You may also have to help him dodge the too-quick tree branch that suddenly juts through the wall, narrowly missing a jugular.

follow you down the stairs, a foot accidentally nudging one of the many, many bodies that occupy the space. He doesn't need to see to feel the heaviness in this room — or smell it either. After a moment to investigate, he'll turn to you, expression incredibly solemn.

What the hell is going on here? he'll ask.

eventually decide that preserving this house of horrors may be a low priority, and any escape is better than no escape at all. He'll pick up a chair or find a metal fireplace poker and gesture to the window.

Stand back. I'm gonna smash that window and then we crawl out, okay?

Go along with this idea, change his mind, point out a better way out, or direct him to where Enola is before smashed glass winds up all over the carpet.

]

[firetouched]

( There are probably worse people to wake up in a burning building with than Matt Murdock. At least Danny knows that Matt can take care of himself (more or less) and that they'll both have very similar ways of navigating this situation.

It's not quite as finessed as it could be. Danny knows Matt's senses aren't firing on all cylinders here, and his own leg is still healing, adjusting to the metal brace holding it together. If he could, he'd just punch a hole through the wall and be done with it. )

Hey, this door opens to a crawl space. Keep your head low.

[avo]

[ It really does dampen the mood when they're both working at more or less half-capacity. But their half is still marginally better than a lot of people's wholes, and there really is nothing like a building on fire to motivate you to get the hell out while you still can.

Especially when the life of your friend is at risk. Matt's been around this block plenty of times, and he isn't losing anyone else. Not if he can help it. ]

Better than another linen closet.

[ The bar is set low.

But he ducks his head and tries to feel out the edge of the frame for the crawl space door. It does feel marginally cooler going in than the rest of their burning surroundings, which gives him a small sense of optimism. ]

You'll have to be my eyes. Things are still ... a little foggy.

[firetouched]

Yeah, I got you.

( And even if Matt did have all his senses functioning the way they normally do, Danny would still insist on helping guide him through.

He clenches his jaw against the screaming discomfort in his leg as he crouches to make his way through. His hand runs along the top of the crawl space to hopefully help detect if it's in danger of collapsing in on them. The door at the end unlatches easily, sending a wave of heat into Danny's face. ]

It looks like more stairs just across the landing. There's a hole burned into the floor, keep to the right side and feel along the wall.

[avo]

[ You're a real one, Danny. ]

— you're still hurt.

[ Not that he's suggesting they stop or anything; it's almost more just a statement of fact, an acknowledgement that Matt understands his friend is injured, and this will probably have to be something they deal with after they escape this burning house, with the rescued children (?) in tow.

He nods now, shifting to feel out the limits of their space and find the wall to hug. ]

How big is the hole? Anything through it?

[burying]

[ Kieren, on the other hand, is less chill about waking up next to someone he doesn't know — for a number of reasons. For one, there's a reason he sleeps alone, lives alone; there's no guarantee of safety, and he's sure that one day whatever's keeping him himself will finally end and he'll go rabid again. There's no wrist tied to the bedpost when he wakes up, and that's enough to have him on a knife edge.

He doesn't remember falling asleep. He dips his head into a mirror in the dark and can still see the familiar brown lens of his contacts. Thank god. He's still covered up. In the stillness, Kieren's stiller. Breathing manual, when he remembers to, with a faint rattle, and he turns to look around the room. He knows this place. Sort of.

(He doesn't have the sense to realise the man's carrying a cane, yet.)

Hovering a little, still a bundle of nervous energy, he moves to where the man's stood. He picks up a photo frame from the dresser, staring down at the photo in the dim light: two young boys holding up freshly caught fish in the Basin. He swallows thickly, his stomach feels heavy. ]

This is Milton House, only— [ He's never seen it like this before. ] it's different. A family lived here. I, uh— it was something with a 'B'.

[ He's seen the grave in the church yard. He's belated in hearing it, straining to listen as he moves towards the door — his head jerking up at the sound: screams. Kieren's eyes widen and a cold pang of dread shoots through him. ]

Stop. [ Oh, christ— not this again. ] Just— stop. They're... they're not real.

[avo]

Oh, good. I didn't want to wake you unless it was urgent.

[ And before the screams, it hadn't been urgent. Unsettling, sure; disorienting, absolutely. But the urgency hadn't arrived just yet — allowing him to do a little bit of snooping around until his companion roused himself from sleep. Luckily for Kieren, he could go without the contacts and Matt would be none the wiser, not that they have the time for introductions and an exchange of five quick facts.

Because as if on cue, something just past the bedroom door vies for their attention in all of its horror and fear.

'Milton House'. He might have heard the name mentioned at the Community Hall in the midst of his gathering information about where he'd wound up, but he doesn't recall the journey to get here. Hell, he doesn't even remember what he'd been doing moments before waking up in this house. ]

Do they still live here? This family. Maybe a distant visiting relative, or something.

[ Because it sounds pretty real to him. ]

[notarat]

[ Billy wants to speak up. He wants to say that yes, he does know who lived here. And he knows what's about to happen. He knows about the coming fire before it starts - the realization hitting him right before they hear the first crackles of flame, the first screams. He wants to say that the fire isn't real, and he knows it.

But he can't. The same fear he felt the first time this happens seizes him all over again, and he instead just wants out.

It's why he moves downstairs without explaining anything to Matt, figuring he might regain his voice again once they're outside.

Except the action of going down the stairs is exactly the thing that makes the man realize that this is, in fact, not the same.

He gasps at the sight of the bodies, and even when Matt speaks up to him, Billy's gaze seems affixed to the corpses. ]

It's different. [ It's all he manages to say at first - looking entirely shell-shocked. Sorry, Matt, it may not be anything too useful he's doing here just yet.. ]

[avo]

[ It's clear the man is disturbed by whatever he's come across. Matt can't blame him. Ever since waking up in this house, everything has felt uneasy in ways that he can't pinpoint. There are no visuals for him to describe — only the blazing hellfire he always sees when he opens his eyes overlaid the real fire burning outside of the bedroom.

And the screams, distant but clearly located somewhere within these walls ... it's enough to put even the strongest-willed to shame, so Matt gives this man his space.

He follows him down the stairs, slow, steady, doing his best not to accidentally clip himself against a broken floorboard revealing holes to the level below. And he very nearly bumps into his companion at the bottom of the steps before he finally speaks. ]

Breathe, man. Just take a breath.

[ He might have his hearing cut down from its usual sharpness, but even he can make out the pounding heart in the other man's chest, as if it were trying to wrench itself free from his ribcage. ]

Tell me what you see.

[notarat]

[ The reminder seems to do its work, because soon after Matt says breathe, Billy does seem to do as much. It's a slow, deep breath, almost like Billy has purposefully taught himself to breathe like that to try and calm down.

Even if calming down feels practically impossible in the face of what he's witnessing here.

.. something that the other is, apparently, not witnessing.

Billy's gaze is only drawn away from the macabre sight to frown with confusion at Matt over that statement, but the pieces slowly click together in his mind. Matt sounded too serious for it to have been some joke, and if he truly can't see any of this, then-- Is he blind?

It sure is a realization to have in front of this scene. Billy's mouth opens and closes a few times as he tries to form thoughts and - more importantly - words. It takes him a moment or two before he's able to say: ]

There are bodies.

[ Christ, he kind of wishes he couldn't see it either. Just describing it is making his heart rate go up all over again. ]

So many. This place-- It's full of them. But they aren't all burned. [ Despite what one might assume from being in a burning house.. ]

[avo]

Yes, I'm blind.

[ Matt confirms, taking a chance to judge the reason behind the silence. There's the concentration and the intention, and it's more like as not that his own comment had sounded so ridiculous in the wake of the chaos surrounding them. The reason why this man had been hyperventilating only moments ago.

Lightly: ]

Inconvenient, I know.

[ He nods now, expression serious as he tries to make out the shape of them with what few senses he does have left, and to their partial effectiveness. ]

Okay. Bodies. [ He tips his head. Maybe if he keeps this man focused on a task rather than the horrors before them, he won't succumb to his fears. Works for him, anyway. ] Are they all — is there a way through them?

●●● 𝑤𝑖𝑙𝑑𝑐𝑎𝑟𝑑 — ;

[avo]

[ if nothing above fits the bill, feel free to leave your own prompt or a variation of below!

also: if you want to mix and match scenarios, go for it too. ]

sorry this took so long!

[computation]

[ Root isn't reckless but she also isn't shy about deliberately wandering into the fog to investigate it. Finding out what's really going on around here isn't going to happen by sitting around waiting for answers, and she's more than willing to engage in some amount of risk.

That being said, what she ends up running into is annoying and unhelpful. ]

If you were going to torment me, I thought you'd pick something with a little more oomph to it, [ Root murmurs, watching an illusory version of herself sitting at a quaint little café in the Flatiron district. It's nothing special, just a hole in the wall with coffee and eggs like any of a hundred others in Manhattan, busy in the morning as people come and go on their way to work. The noises, scenery, even the faint smells are familiar. This was only a few years ago now but it feels like forever, because so much has happened.

There's a middle-aged dark-haired man in a janitor's uniform sitting across from the illusory Root, and they're sharing diner mugs of hot chocolate and he's eating a peanut butter and jelly sandwich. They're chatting calmly, easily, with apparent interest in their tones. Some of the words can just be made out, murmuring like a background track turned down too low: ]

Normally people ask more questions...

There's an order to things -- a plan. Everything that happens -- including you --

[ Root isn't interested in listening to the rest, especially if she has to strain to make it out. She's deaf in one ear and she's left her cochlear implant off.

But she still has more than enough situational awareness to realize that someone else has stumbled upon her little charade, and turns abruptly to Matt, speaking to him directly. ] The Darkwalker just isn't very creative, is he? I'd take the wolves over this.

[ She sounds scornful, dismissive. The scene before them, innocuous as it is, represents a fiercely personal sort of shame that Root doesn't tend to dwell on. She's faced it, she's moved past it, and she's never forgotten. It's just not something she trots out for other people to see. ]

pls absolutely no worries c: we are chill vibes in this house

[avo]

[ It's the sounds and the smells of New York, so familiar to him, that he almost wonders if he'd been transported away from the frozen tundra, and it had all been some momentary dream. In a second, someone is going to bump shoulders with him, calling back in frustration for Matt to 'Watch yourself!' and then quickly realize their mistake when they spot his glasses and his cane before mumbling something and continuing on their way.

It happens all the time. He's used to it. Almost misses it, in fact.

(He's not sure that it is, but it's hard not to hope for it.)

When nothing happens, Matt remains silent, content to bask in the big city, trying to pinpoint the exact location in Manhattan where this scene takes place. If he had his hearing back in full capacity, he thinks he could, but he's managed to locate himself somewhere south of Hell's Kitchen, south of Midtown.

It's close enough.

When the woman speaks, he doesn't react right away. He's still processing the city, and the snatches of voices that seemed to intentionally pull his focus for a reason. He isn't sure what the words mean, only that they're important.

Important to this woman, maybe. ]

Is that who's responsible for this? I've gotta say this is ... a pretty convincing visual.

[ Says the guy who can't actually see. ]

immaculate <33

[computation]

[ In the current context, Root has no reason to guess he's blind -- sunglasses are very sensible with the glare off the snow in Arctic summer most of the day, even if lately it's been overcast and dismal -- and he's right that it's pretty convincing. It makes her weirdly homesick, and summons a profound longing for a time when the Machine's voice was in her ear. Something she knows she'll never have again. ]

It was a little obvious with the bad villain monologue coming out of the green fog about how we can't escape him. Besides, there's only two possible culprits, and Enola tends to deliver things in dreams.

[ Or so she's been told. Root's experienced it once herself with the colored mood aura, but apparently that's a trend that it comes through dreams.

Although she's trying to appear disaffected -- trying to convince herself she's disaffected -- she's still watching herself talk to Cyrus, reaches up and pulls her long practical braid over her shoulder to fiddle with it in a subtle display of nerves. ]

My dreams are never this realistic. This is a memory.