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

BURIED ECHOES. (Milton, late July; closed to close CR)

[pythianwoman]

This isn’t the first time this place has been beset by a green fog. That doesn’t make it any BETTER, though. The familiarity with the fact that whatever ends up accompanying it this time is going to be just as fucking awful as it was the last time doesn’t improve anything. It puts Zoey on edge, where she’ll remain until it finally passes.

The green tingle grows, and she avoids it as best she can… until she suddenly CAN’T.

The fog surrounds her, everything growing dark and green, the voice of the Darkwalker menacing as it speaks to her.

Then the fog swirls and shifts around her. Into an all too familiar living room. And Zoey knows, suddenly and with a sinking, despairing feeling in her chest, where it is. What’s going to happen. It happened a lifetime and WORLDS ago. But the memory has never faded. Even if she’s healed from it. Dealt with it.

It looks like the Darkwalker has other fucking plans.

[The memory] cw for blood, murder, and death

A different Zoey, another lifetime and worlds ago, sits on the couch making what is obviously a video call. She’s pale, tense, and there’s what looks like blood lingering along her lower lashes for a minute before she wipes it away.

“It’s a bloody trick. Whatever you do, don’t listen to him. His promises mean nothing and they’ll come at too high a cost.” She’s desperate, doing what she can while she can.

The other Zoey, the real one, watches as her past self tries desperately to warn someone, warn EVERYONE, talking rapidly, as though she doesn’t have enough time to say what she needs to say, her English accent more noticeable than usual.

“His smile never reached his fucking EYES. Do you really think he’ll offer anything worth taking? Do you really think he’ll keep his bloody word, afterwards?”

There’s the sound of something breaking, and Zoey of the past looks up sharply, a hiss of FUCK slipping from her lips. And Zoey of the present closes her eyes as her past self scrambles to her feet, a dagger in hand. She knows what’s coming. She still has the scars from it.


There’s a lightning fast glimpse of oddly greyish skin with a weird pink tinge to it) as something inhuman, something demonic sends her flying, the device tumbling rom her hand and clattering to the floor.

“YOU.” Past Zoey doesn’t sound pleased at ALL to see whoever, whatever it was with the unnaturally coloured skin that broke into her flat. There’s recognition, in that one word. Contempt and anger and WRATH itself are carried in her voice. And for those who know her... the slightest undercurrent of fear.

It doesn’t stop the Zoey from the past from fighting, which shouldn’t surprise anyone who knows her, either. It’s fast, it goes on for just a moment, it goes on forever, it goes on for no time at all. That Zoey draws blood, and it costs her. There’s a slash of claws, an agonizing, drawn out squishy sound, and panicked, breathless gasping as she drops to the floor, blood from her slit throat spreading rapidly across the hardwood floor.

“Do you... work for them? Or are you still... the low demon on the totem pole?” There’s a liquid-y bubbling, rasping quality to Zoey of the past’s voice, the same quality that’s in the laugh she manages, gazing up at her soon to be murderer, her hand pressed against her throat. “Or are you still pissed... a mere human... made you bleed?”

Her voice is fading… and so is she. Until even her breathing has stopped

[The aftermath.] cw for talk of death and trauma.

After, Zoey retreats. Pulls away to lick the wounds that the memory had torn open from a healed scar. Not as healed as the scar on her throat, but healed enough to deal with. The shame of her failure. What had felt like a betrayal of everyone in the City. Those she’d failed to warn. Been unable to save. What was the point of being a seer if she could use her gift to save others? She knew she’d done everything she could to warn them. To stop what was to come. She’d died for it. It changed nothing.

Except let her learn first hand what it was like to die. If not for the City and the fact that death didn’t take, she’d be gone. Never to have made it to Milton at all.

The memory of getting her throat slit, of bleeding out on her living room floor has never gone away. One of the curses of remembering everything was remembering everything. She remembers everything about that moment. The nightmares had faded. She’d dealt with the trauma of it as best she could.

And now, here she is. With the memory torn open as raggedly as the night it happened.

Zoey gives up on sleep. Avoids it like the plague. Takes to perching on rooftops, a bottle of something strong and alcoholic in hand. When she’s not running around on four legs or pouring herself into some project. She finally gets around to getting more mead started, as well as beginning to tinker on her still.

Anything to keep herself from thinking.

the aftermath

[bigbaddy]

Even though Bigby has seen many memories in the green fog already at this point, he wasn't around for Zoey's.

Still, it's easy to tell that something has gotten into her. He realizes it the very moment he's spotting her sitting on a roof and drinking. Even if Zoey can be kind of wild and strange at times, that's not an activity anyone who's in their right mind just casually undertakes.

So without calling out to her or anything, Bigby just climbs up onto the roof himself, wordlessly moving to sit down next to where she is.

It's only once he's already sat there for a moment that he asks: "What's up?"

His tone very much indicates he's not going to believe it for a single moment if she tries telling him it's nothing.

[pythianwoman]

To be fair, Zoey is absolutely the type to sit on the roof and drink on the regular, entirely in her right mind. She spent many a night drinking on top of the House of Dusk in the Carnival. And only sometimes when she couldn’t sleep. She prefers somewhere out of the way and high up to sit. So of course she’s going to end up sitting on a rooftop drinking when she’s dealing with shit.

It’s not entirely a surprise when Bigby climbs up onto the rooftop and settles down beside her. If anyone was going to find her, it’d be him. Or Raylan.

She knows that he’s not going to believe her if she tells him it’s nothing, so instead of lying, she deflects. Denies in a less blatant way. Zoey casts her eyes skyward for a moment, before taking another drink from her bottle. “The sky. The moon and stars, too, if things haven’t gone even more weird here. More of that fucking fog, probably.” The distaste there probably gives it away, though, especially for someone who knows her the way Bigby does.

[bigbaddy]

"Okay," the guy replies with a tone that's already entirely giving away what he thinks of that answer.

That it's dumb and sarcastic mostly, of course, but he doesn't need to say that. It's not like Zoey was being particularly subtle here. At least Bigby knows - since it's her - that it's not her way of telling him to piss off.

It might have been, if it was someone else. If it were plenty of people in this place, actually.

"Let's try that again. What happened? You don't exactly look like you came up here to have fun."

[pythianwoman]

No, she’s much more blunt when it comes to telling people to piss off. And people she likes, people who have earned her trust, get that a whole lot less often. She appreciates that he’d come up here. Even if she’s skirting around the subject like she’s a fucking ice skater. Hell, he KNOWS about the memory the green mist had shared. It’s just… that particular wound is a whole lot rawer than it was then.

So Zoey sighs, and takes a large swallow from the bottle in hand. “I just got to watch myself die all over again. In technicolour surround sound and everything,” she tells him quietly. “That’s all. And it’s a little fucking weird, watching yourself die from an outside perspective. Never saw it in third person before.”

And she takes another swallow from her bottle.

[bigbaddy]

For a second Bigby is quiet. It's not like he doesn't have anything to say about that, but sometimes - around people he likes, really - he has to hold himself back from saying the instinctive answer that comes up in his mind.

Mostly because he's putting in effort to try and not be an asshole, thanks. Especially when it comes to a topic like this. Especially when he cares about Zoey, when they have been stuck in this place together for so long now.

"Guess I don't know what it's like," he says after a moment. Sure, Bigby knows what it's like to die - if he had been an ordinary mortal, he would have been dead multiple times over at this point. He's been so close to that brink, it's just that death doesn't work that way for him.

But seeing any of the shit that happened to him from an outside perspective? That's definitely something he's never done, unless you count storybook depictions of what happened to him.

And it's not like any of those people were ever actually there.

"But.. at least it's in the past, yeah? You're here now."

[pythianwoman]

It wouldn’t bother her, if he didn’t. Zoey’s known him long enough for that. She’d appreciate that he makes the effort, though. Would appreciate that she means enough to him for him to make the effort.

“I don’t think anyone should know what that’s like. The watching yourself die from an outside perspective or the dying part.” She shrugs, taking another drink. “But sometimes you do, whether you like it or not.”

She’s less buttoned up against the cold than she might usually be, her scarf undone and buttons not quite done up. Revealing the long-since-healed scar across her throat, although it’s scarcely visible save to those of keen eye. “I am. Thought I’d gotten past it. After all, it’s been years and worlds ago, for me. But watching myself die has gone and torn open the wound all over again.” She glances over at him, a wry, lopsided smile almost crossing her lips. “Metaphorically speaking, anyway.” Give this place long enough, though, it might do just that for real, though. “And it’s reminded me of just how badly I failed.”

And makes her worry that she’ll do the same, here. She doesn’t have her gift of sight, anymore. She’s navigating all of this half-blind and unaware. And the lives of those she cares about here might pay the price.

[bigbaddy]

"We all fail sometimes."

He speaks more slowly than he usually does, even now. He pauses more between sentences, letting moments of quiet linger between the two of them. Like Bigby wants to make sure to not say something asinine here.

It doesn't help that he's so bad at sensitive conversations - but he's trying, for her sake. Because he wants to be there for her.

He glances away from Zoey though, like he can't quite say this while looking at her. Instead he stares ahead, at the dark town below them.

"Hell, I've fucked up more times than you can probably count. Plenty of times with lives at stake too. It's just a shitty, unavoidable part of existing."

The memory

[solitarysoul]

Levi wanders in part way through the memory. He knows what these are now, so he waits for it to calm down before moving closer to Zoey and speaking up.

"...so that's how it happened, huh."

[pythianwoman]

Zoey sighs softly. She’d hoped that she might luck out, and avoid anyone catching sight of THAT particular memory. She’s not… hiding the scar, really. Not purposefully. She’s just not… going out of her way to show it off. The fucking cold helps a little with that.

She nods. “Yeah. A desperate attempt to try and keep people safe. It was an abject failure, of course. All I did was learn what it felt like to die.”

[solitarysoul]

Sorry. At least he'll never bring it up again. "You tried...I think that's worth something."

[pythianwoman]

He can. He's one of the few people who can. He's also one of maybe two people who know. About the whole dying thing. Here, at least. "It doesn't feel like it is," Zoey confesses softly. "I should have... I don't know. Done better. What is the point of being a seer if I can't use my gift to help?"

[solitarysoul]

"I...I know how it feels to try but not be enough to really help. It feels like you weren't able to do anything. But its not your only chance. You can't go back and help them, but you can help people here."

[pythianwoman]

"Not as well as I might have done," Zoey says wryly. "since this place decided to depower me. Granted, sometimes I think that might be for the best. I doubt being psychic around the Darkwalker would be a fun time." Wouldn't be the first time she'd been around a malevolent entity, though. First time she's been around one with three wolf skulls for a head. Although maybe Flagg could take a form that did. "But I'll do everything I can."

She always does. It just doesn't always feel like enough.

[solitarysoul]

"He fucks with our heads enough, if you were sensitive to that sort of stuff I can't imagine how bad it'd be." Or maybe she'd be able to fight it more...though then the Darkwalker might pay more attention to her and that'd really suck.

"Its all you can do. Keep trying, keep helping where you can."

[pythianwoman]

"It would be fucking awful, and I'd probably have a target on my back. Moreso than we Interlopers already do." Since the Darkwalker is already gunning for them, hard. "But GOD it'd be nice to see the shit this place throws at us coming. At least a little head's up."

"It's all any of us can do, I think. Try to help as best we can. Survive. We're in this together." And she thinks maybe the Darkwalker has more trouble with the lot of them when they're together.

[solitarysoul]

"I just expect things to get worse all the time. Its been correct often enough." He sighs and moves a bit closer to Zoey. "None of us can do this alone. If I can help at all just let me know."

[pythianwoman]

"You usually can't go wrong with that expectation," Zoey agrees. "Especially in a place like this." She gives him a lopsided little smile. "Thanks. I appreciate it." She tilts her head towards where they'd watched her memory play out. "I'm relieved, I think. That it was you to see this. At least I don't have to try and explain it."

She's not sure she could, to anyone else. She'd try. She'd really fucking try. But given that she's alive and well, here and now, it'd be hard for anyone to believe. Even with them seeing her memory of it happening. Watching it play out like they're there.

[solitarysoul]

"I-I'm honored. That you aren't upset that I saw such a, uh, personal moment. I did kind of wonder about it, but we don't have to talk about it or anything."

[pythianwoman]

"I'd rather a friend than some stranger," she says. It helps. She would have rather no one see it. She'd rather no one see most of the shit she's gone through in all the worlds she's been through, honestly. But if someone had to... better a friend.

It's keeping her from immediately retreating and finding a rooftop and something strong to drink, too. "Wonder about anything in particular?" She might regret it, but they're already halfway in. She can manage answering a few questions. She thinks.

[solitarysoul]

He smiles a bit. He's not used to having friends, and is still coming to terms with the idea that people might like him. "Not really, just how it happened. I guess what coming back felt like but I'm not sure that'd be something you could put into words. I probably couldn't."

[pythianwoman]

"It's not... something I've tried to put into words, honestly." Which is the truth. So Zoey thinks about it for a moment. Trying to put into words. It's... a struggle. Because she hasn't thought about it in... what feels like a very long time.

"It was... fast. Like slotting back into a place where there previously had been nothing. Like waking up from sleep, almost, but... they way it would feel if sleep were a void, instead. Coming back to consciousness in a body still aching from the wound that had killed it."

Her fingertips find the scar on her throat. It had been aching when she woke back up, had sucked a ragged, choking breath into lungs that hadn't breathed in three days. “I wouldn’t have had any idea how long it had been, if not for the fact that I wasn’t the first person to go through it. So logically I knew it had been three days. But it didn’t feel like it.”

[solitarysoul]

"Uh, I-I...s-sorry, I didn't mean to make you try to remember it. I-it can't be a good thing to feel.

"But that's...just how it worked there? I guess if something has the power to pluck you from one reality into another the power to defy death isn't all that different."

[pythianwoman]

"It's okay. It wasn't nearly as bad as watching it happen in third person." Compared to that, talking about what it was like to come back was nothing.

She shrugs. "Yeah. Death just... didn't take, there. It didn't take in a lot of the worlds I've been to, I don't think? It was rare, thankfully, so there were some I didn't know for sure. The City was just the only one where I... experienced it first hand." She'd come close a few times, granted. And she still bears the scars.

[solitarysoul]

"Yeah...I guess that had to be hard. Um. All I can think to help is go back and get a drink."

That was so weird. He's pretty sure it doesn't work that way here and he's kind of glad he'll never have to deal with dying and coming back.