singillatim | bury your doubts and fall asleep

bury your doubts and fall asleep

SEPTEMBER 2025 EVENT

PROMPT ONE — THE AURORA: ENOLA’S VISIT : Rather than visiting in dreams, Enola appears to the Interlopers with a warning, and another offering of help.

PROMPT TWO — THE AURORA: KICKBACK Following Enola’s visit and the dream where Interlopers can gain a new ability, the Darkwalker bites back.

PROMPT THREE — AS THE DEAD SLEEP: In the dying world of the Quiet Apocalypse, Interlopers are driven to lay a part of themselves to rest.

PROMPT FOUR — SIGNAL VOID: The radios fixed up by Marra and given to Interlopers lead to unexpected finds in the Northern Territories.

THE AURORA: ENOLA'S VISIT

WHEN: September 21st.
WHERE: Everywhere.
CONTENT WARNINGS: potentially disturbing dreams; dreams involving animal death; dreams involving fire/being burned alive.

In the late afternoon, when the sky is still light, you hear the telltale signs of an Aurora. The endless hum, punctuated by cracks that echo across the air. There’s the strange ethereal shrill sounds made by no instrument known to man, faint at first but growing louder. As you look towards the skies, you can see the faint swirl of colours in the daylight. The electricity of the world comes to life, flickering and sparking erratically.

As the day shifts into evening and the skies darken, those colours in the sky begin to brighten: purples, pinks, red, greens and yellows — an abstract painting of colour and light that paints the sky brighter than any day, so bright the stars look like ghosts. The Aurora has come, and Interlopers settle in for a long night of noise and light.

Whenever you find yourself alone, she will come to you. You might be out in town, you might be sat in your cabin by the fire. You are alone and in a blink, she’s standing with you: a woman dressed in furs, one side of her face blackened and withered, the eye missing. Her remaining blue eye is bloodshot and exhausted. Her hands are caked in blood, old and new. She is dishevelled. Enola has seen better days, but she stands proud as she stares at you.

If you have spoken to, or seen Enola before — she greets you warmly like an old friend. If this is your first time seeing or speaking with Enola, she introduces herself: My name is Enola, I’m one of you. I’m here to help.

“Time is running out.” she tells you. “Things are changing. You’ve probably seen it, felt it. How the wildlife shifts, how the winters never end, how the world trembles.”

While prevalent long before Interlopers ever came to the Northern Territories, the seismic activity in the world has been a staple in recent times.

“Caged animals grow restless.” She’ll take a moment to walk around you, looking around with interest: examining homes of their contents, or taking a moment to appreciate the lush green trees. She takes genuine enjoyment out of it, smiling softly.

“I can still help.” she says suddenly, looking up at you. “I’ve seen you use your gifts well, learn how to control them. You learn so quickly. But more of you keep arriving, and this world keeps growing colder and crueller.”

She looks above you, or towards a window if you’re outside. She is silent for a long time.

“It was never supposed to be like this.” her voice is soft, sad. You notice there are tears in her eyes.

“Sleep, and it will come to you. If you choose for it.”

In an instant, she is gone. But when you go to sleep that night, a dream may come to you.

MOON TOUCHED: The colours of the Aurora dance around you in your dreamscape. You dream of running through the silent woods at night. The moon is full above you, the air is calm and still. Hunger draws you forward, everything is so sharp and vivid in your senses, even in this dreamscape. You hear the crispness of the snow beneath your feet, smell the scent of the pines on the air, feel how warm you are against the coldness around you.

The snuffling of a rabbit catches your attention, and you swiftly leap after it, jaws opening and closing around its neck as you capture it. You bite down hard, feeling the crunch of its bones as they break, the sweet coppery taste of blood filling your mouth and nose. You lift your head towards the stars, blood on your tongue. You realise you are not a person at all, but a beast on all fours: a wolf, content and filling your belly with meat.

You wonder, for a brief moment: were you ever a person at all?

You do not know the answer to the question. You do not seem to worry about such a thing but there’s a flash of warning on the air. Something you cannot quite place, but you know that you should not forget it.

When you awaken, you feel… different, somehow. Everything seems a little sharper, as if the world around you had been dull, or behind some pane of frosted glass. With it comes a strange balance of calmness and chaos, tameness and wildness, fear and bravery. You find yourself looking for the moon in the skies and when you finally find it, it hits you — this is what it means to be Moon Touched.

LIGHT BRINGER: The colours of the Aurora dance around you in your dreamscape. You dream of sitting by a lonely campfire in the mouth of a cave at night, warming your hands. As you sit, a strange feeling comes over you, a desire to reach out to the flames. And so you do, reaching with both hands into the fire — gripping at the white-hot embers. It burns you, and for a moment there is blinding hot pain as the fire suddenly explodes around you, consuming you whole. But the pain soon stops. The fire doesn’t burn you. No, you have become the blaze — your body warmed. You burn bright enough that the darkness around you turns into day.

When you awaken the next morning, you feel warmed and comfortable. As if even the coldest of winters couldn’t reach your bones. The warmth remains even when the Aurora ends, and you are left with the innate understanding:you are the Lightbringer. The power of flame is at your very fingertips. You master the light, life, warmth.

AURORA CALL: The colours of the Aurora dance around you in your dreamscape. You dream you are standing in the very sky itself, at the Aurora’s height. Colour and sound twirls around you, within you — and you feel it curl into your body. Your head fills with noise, a chorus of voices calling out, snippets of conversation echoing within you. Enola’s voice calls to you: “Don’t you understand it now? We are all connected. The Aurora connects us.”

And you do, you do understand it.

When you awaken, you feel connected to the world around you. To the very people who live amongst you. You feel less lonely, a kind of kinship with others. You have heard the Aurora’s Call and you have answered it, unlocked a connection with your fellow Interlopers. You will be heard.

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 AURORA: KICKBACK

WHEN: September 22nd.
WHERE: Everywhere.
CONTENT WARNINGS: themes of violence; supernatural weather/altered environments; altered mental states; mental manipulation; themes of violence; potential character injury; potential character death; potential NPC death.

When you awaken the next morning, the sky is impossibly dark. There is no daylight, there is only endless night. No moon, no stars, no sun. The sky is empty. A void. Just the darkness and the green gloom — the telltale sign of what is to come: the Darkwalker.

You awaken and the cold fear washes over you; a vice-like grip on your throat, squeezing, choking. The air is heavy, oppressive: fear, anxiety, anger. The day is eerily still, and even as you try to go about your day — you know something is coming, your instincts tell you as much.

And you’re right: the ancient, impossible voice finally crawls into your ear.

“The First is desperate.” the Darkwalker sneers.”Look at how she tries to protect her precious brethren. Arms you for a world that you were never meant to be in: the interloper in nature’s design.”

The earth shudders beneath you, things begin to shake and tremble around you.

“I am not some weak, powerless thing.” The Darkwalker tells you. “Even if I am bound, I am inevitable and so very hungry. The table is laid, and I will have my fill — as it is meant to be.”

The Darkwalker howls: indescribable, unnatural, demonic — breaking off into dark laughter. The earth shudders again.

“I will break you down from within, and if I cannot — I will break you down by one another’s hands once more. I am the Rot within you.”

Above you, white-hot green lightning streaks across the skies like cracks — impossibly bright. Something shifts within you, a growing tension. The anger within you builds. A familiar sensation for some: a bitter gnawing within you. The nightmarish green gloom above you persists and everything bubbles up from within.

It is not the first time the Darkwalker has done this. Many remember only too well the Summer Solstice of last year. By now, many wear talismans crafted to ward off the Darkwalker’s influence. But not everyone, and the Darkwalker’s influence is stronger now. From the dark, the anger within you becomes too much. The tension finally snaps with another crackle of lighting across the skies — and in the flash of it for a brief moment: the giant three-headed wolf skull, eyes glowing sickly green.

Another night of violence is upon the Interlopers: a vicious argument where you air your grievances, or finally let slip the things you’ve been holding close to your chest. A verbal beat down, incredibly hurtful in nature. For others, things may be drawn to getting physical. A literal beat down where your fists grow bruised and bloody, or perhaps even worse. Whatever it is, you want to do damage to someone else — there is darkness here, and so many things come out in the dark, don’t they?

Chaos erupts once more.

But there is noise above you this time, a furious unseen battle. The skies are not just empty and green, but a furious blaze of light of the Aurora streaks across the skies. Enola is grasping for control, and there are sounds of pain — as she tries to end the madness.

“Leave them be, Devourer.” Enola’s voice booms across the air like the cracking of ice of a frozen lake.

As Interlopers fall to chaos and madness with fists, weapons and words: Enola and the Darkwalker battle against one another. The skies flash violently with green streaks of lightning and the sharp colours of the Aurora: a frightening sight and it’s almost impossible to truly describe the sights before you — should you have a moment to look up.

Hide, or fight. Survive.

The night is long. The fight above you goes on for hours, and ends with a tearing of the skies and the world snaps to normal. You hear a gasp of pain from Enola, then nothing. The air is silent and clear above, but blood may have already been spilled below.

AS THE DEAD SLEEP

WHEN: The month of September.
WHERE: Everywhere.
CONTENT WARNINGS: mental manipulation; themes of loss; themes of grief; themes of death; themes of catharsis.

In the Quiet Apocalypse, it is easy to see the world sitting on the long road of the End of Things. Everything must end, that is part of nature. All things begin and all things end. So many Interlopers have been ripped from their worlds, often in the midst of crisis, trouble or change. And with it comes a pause, something left unfinished. The end has not been completed.

It is a notion that greets you when you awaken one morning. A compulsion. An itch. One might try to press it down, ignore it as much as you can. But the longer it is ignored, the more the feeling becomes. You go about your business and the feeling grows: a blooming sensation in your chest and the innate understanding: all things must end. It is a desperate, lonely feeling.

Perhaps it is not the end of you, but the end of something else. A life, a friendship, a loved one. Perhaps something left unsaid, something left undone. Whatever it is, you find yourself thinking of it constantly, even when you particularly don’t want to. It feels… wrong, to leave such a thing unfinished. To keep putting such a thing off feels unnatural. And that feeling inside of you comes almost too much to bear.

Whatever it is, you must put it to rest.

For Interlopers, a different destination will come to them. They may wish to go out into the wilds. Others may wish to go to the Church in Milton, or at Silverpoint. Some may wish to travel to the edge of the ravine, or even to some part of Lakeside. Some may wish to stand on the edges of the ice upon the seas at the Coast. Whatever or wherever they feel they need to get to — a distance will need to be covered, to find somewhere quiet and alone. They will prepare themselves for the journey and leave to go on to put something, whatever it may be, to rest. To say goodbye.

And so you walk, through the snow and wind, your thoughts occupied. You must say goodbye, you must bury something, you must finish what needs to be finished. But… other thoughts mingle within your own. You cannot recall where they come from, but they feel like yours, somehow. Like something deep down within your spirit, pooling out from it and drifting into your mind. Soft prayers, hushed apologies — even if the words are not your own, they have never felt truer. They weigh upon you, so heavy despite their softness:

… The night was so bright, too bright to count the stars. We forgot about them. … And yet it was a bitter and empty place. Did you truly know, somehow?

Did who know? Did they know what? There are so many questions, but you cannot seem to find the answers to them. It is a quiet agony. There are more thoughts:

… I could not go. I would not. Why couldn't you hold out? Why couldn't I let go?

Who’s thoughts are these? Even if they are not your own, they seem to make sense, somehow. Perhaps you piece things together, make them your own thoughts. Perhaps there was something you could not let go of. Perhaps there was someone who could not hold on. Perhaps there you were stubborn, too stubborn.

… The world falling away. The lights, they used to go on. Please forgive me.

The final words linger within you as you finally come to a stop. Here. This is where you must stop. Here you will lay it to rest. Your hands reach for the snow, fingers clawing into the frozen white. Perhaps you wish to lay it beneath the ice. You prepare. Perhaps it is an item you bury, some small token that represents what it is you wish to finish. Perhaps you are drawn to write something down: a name, a secret, an apology. Or perhaps you simply wish to make some kind of symbolic grave: decorated with stones and even crafting some kind of marker for it.

You will not stop until it is done, even if the day grows darker and colder. You will work until you have finished it. If others have come with you, you will feel compelled to unburden yourself of this loss, this thing you must finally put to bed. You do not have to be alone in saying goodbye.

And when it is done, you feel lighter, somehow. Forgiven, perhaps. As if the very thing that has weighed down so terribly upon you has lessened, eased. Things feel right once more.

As the dead sleep, you are here and alive — for now.

SIGNAL VOID

WHEN: Aurora nights; the month of September, onwards.
WHERE: Everywhere.
CONTENT WARNINGS: themes of survival/exploration; potentially dangerous situations; altered wildlife; wild animal attacks; potential character injuries; potential maiming; potential character death.

In July, Interlopers who tackled the Cannery and fought against the Timberwolves that had made their home there managed to recover some shortwave radios. These radios were given to Marra, who has managed to get these devices working again despite the Aurora’s effects on electronics.

No one can say for sure how Marra has managed to do this, much like how she manages to ensure the lighthouse works at all times. Even her own answers have proved insufficient, but she cannot even explain it herself: for some reason I can keep this place going. I'm in here and the light still shines, and I don't know why.

Having been returned to Interlopers via Molly at the Frozen Angler, Interlopers across the Northern Territories will have access to these tools. While not enough for everyone to have one each, Interlopers will need to share the radios as they navigate the world. The radios don’t work like regular walkie-talkies, but will work by using them to send morse code messages — like how telegrams work. But in the month of September, during Aurora nights, these radios start picking up strange signals.

The signal seems to appear on the radios like some kind of radar, with the screen lighting up and flashing, and a beeping sound emitting from the radio. Following the flashing and beeping on the radios, Interlopers will find that they are being led to something — with the lights and sounds increasing in frequency and intensity the closer they get.

The signals will lead Interlopers to bunkers, buried in the snow. Interlopers will need to dig through the snow to reach the door, and the doors themselves will be heavy and difficult to open. Inside, Interlopers will find a shelter that has been carved into the earth, and modest caches of stocks that have been lost to time: food, water, medical supplies, tools, books, weapons. It looks as if these bunkers were created as places of protection in the event of some kind of nuclear war, or some kind of apocalypse prepper — clearly a great deal of work has gone into crafting these places.

However there are certain dangers when it comes to traversing the world during the Aurora. Wildlife tends to become more volatile during these nights, and will actively seek out Interlopers who are out in the wilds following the signals on their radios. Packs of wolves, solitary wolves or even bears and wild cats can be found stalking after Interlopers who may be out.

The threat of these predators is high, and they will actively attack Interlopers. But it’s worth the risk of more supplies: the endless night is on the way as the daylight hours grow thin and bitter winter draws in.

But it is not just these bunkers that the radios reveal: in addition, another signal is being broadcast. One that may be familiar to some Interlopers. A broken message from last year, recorded in the diary of a firewatcher:

- .... .. ... / .. ... / --- .--. . .-. .- - .. ...- . / -... . .- .-. --- .- -.- .-.-.- / .--. .-. --- .--- . -.-. - / .-- .. -. - . .-. -- ..- - . / -.. --- .-- -. .-.-.- / -.. .- -. --. . .-. ---... / .- ..- .-. --- .-. .- / .. -. ... - .- -... .. .-.. .. - -.-- .-.-.- / -.-. --- -- . / .- - / --- -. -.-. . .-.-.-

FAQs

THE AURORA: ENOLA'S VISIT

1. Aurora Feats are unlocked! For this round, RNG picked Lightbringer, Moon Touched and Aurora Call.

2. Please see the following page for more information. Aurora Feats are completely optional.

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

THE AURORA: KICKBACK

1. Characters are free to use this event to kill NPC Interlopers. Other NPCs, especially named ones (ie. Methuselah, Molly, Marra, etc.), are off the table, as are two marked NPC Interlopers. Please let Mods know if you intend on doing this for record keeping!

2. These acts of violence can be physical or verbal altercations, players are encouraged to work with the prompt however they'd like! However, anything potentially world-altering (ie. building destruction) must be first discussed with mods.

3. Interlopers under the Darkwalker's influence can be stopped in a number of ways. Showing genuine care and compassion in the face of violence is one way, ~~saving them with the power of love/friendship~~. Knocking an Interloper out is another way. Sometimes killing an Interloper may be needed, or simply restraining them and keeping them locked up somewhere so they can't hurt anyone else until the night is over would also work.

4. Interlopers with the Darkwalker's Revenge Feat will be incredibly energised by the Darkwalker's influence on the world and feel at their physical peak. They will also be more susceptible to the Darkwalker's influence to be violent, meaning it will take extra work to break them out from the Darkwalker's hold.

5. Interlopers with warding talismans anointed with Interloper blood will be the least susceptible to the Darkwalker's influence to be violent, but can still be influenced eventually as the night goes on — especially if they have any grudges or interpersonal issues going on.

6. Interlopers who have natural penchants for violence or darker impulses will also be more susceptible to the Darkwalker's influence.

AS THE DEAD SLEEP

1. Items don't have to just be buried, they could also be burned, or sunk into a body of water.

2. It doesn't have to be a specific item, but could be something symbolic of the thing that the Interloper wants to 'put to rest'.

SIGNAL VOID

1. There are six bunkers in the world to be found. Two in the Milton region, two in the Lakeside region, and two in The Coast region.

2. The morse code message cannot be replied to as of yet.

3. The firewatcher refers to the Diary of Sam Bouchard, which can be read here.

PLOTTING POST

Threaded | Top-Level Comments Only

[ ooc: Feel free to yell at him for being an annoying howling doge, he probably deserves it. Also I kinda wrote these in media res so assuming our characters have already somehow ended up outdoors together is ok by me 👍. Contains animal death. Plotting post. ]

Moon Touched (Throughout September)

[ A howl shattered the cold morning. For the first time since he saw the swirl of alien lights in the sky, Ironeye's body was almost as light as he remembered. Here, he'd seen no springs in which the spirits danced, nor trees in which they perched.

But still he leapt and wheeled and snapped at drifts of snow, savoring the taste of ice in his jaws. If he happened to shoot past a startled Interloper, or smell something that caught his animal interest, so be it. But for now, the instincts of the wolf and the hunter were in agreement.

It was time to run. ]

Hunting Party (Throughout September)

[ A white-feathered bird swooped neatly through the grey sky, perhaps sighting one of its fellows or an easy meal. Whatever the case, there was only a whisper of displaced air before it zagged mid-flight and dropped to the snow. An arrow protruded from its breast, along with a scant few droplets of blood.

As neat as a pinned moth and almost as clean.

Ironeye emerged from the trees to claim his catch. It was only when the sunlight caught at his cloak that the pale green scales of its material ceased to blend him into his surroundings. ]

Not bad. [ He'd say as he turned the creature over. ] No breaks. Good flight feathers on this one.

Signal Void

Is this really a dwelling? What happened to its owner?

[ No answers to be found, at least not from outside, where Ironeye was evaluating a frozen, half-buried bunker and its rather substantial door. It had taken a while to find this place, and daylight wouldn't last forever. He'd heard the cries of beasts nearby, strangely restless.

But more importantly: ]

Looks like no one's got to it yet, at least.

[ Yet being the operative word. There were things inside, he could just feel it. ]

Wildcard;
[ idk anything else \o/. ]

Edited 2025-09-10 01:18 (UTC)

(ooc: prompts listed in vaguely chronological order)

AS THE DEAD SLEEP

TW: SELF-HARM UNDER THE CUT

[He can't put a name to the storm of emotions driving him out to the woods on the edge of Milton. A gnawing emptiness that demanded to be filled, impossible to ignore no matter how hard he'd tried—until, in the end, what else could he do but comply? To cross the snow in leaps and bounds, shrouded head ducked to block the wind? Until the impulse to go became the compulsion to stay, and he knew without knowledge of knowing that this random copse would serve.

From there, the rest is surprisingly easy. He takes his tail in hand, unsheathing his dagger—and drags it up in one swift motion, catching the blade underneath his scales and stripping them off in a spray of blood. And it hurts, it hurts, but—but it also feels like an exorcism. As if he's cutting away dead weight, casting off some part of himself that no longer fits.

...

After, there's the passing thought of digging a shallow hole, except—no, no, that doesn't feel right. Not clean enough, not final enough, the rite of burial simply a long, slow drag of rot and decay. Instead he sparks a small fire with sticks and his tinderbox, feeding it stray twigs and skeletal bushes until blossoms of flame completely engulf the pile of kindling and bloody scales.

Thin plumes of dark smoke spiral up into the sky, stinging his eyes, but he doesn't move. The feeling of slow suffocation, the smothering weight of unfinished business and familiar memories turned alien—they disappear into the searing heat along with the cold. He keeps watching the fire, bleeding tail curled around him. Eventually he'll clean the wound, wrap it tight, pack it in snow to numb the pain, but for now...just for now, he wants to savor the hurt along with the warmth.

How alive he feels in a forest full of ghosts.]

THE AURORA: ENOLA'S VISIT

[Somewhere around when the book he's trying to read starts spontaneously smoking at the edges, Avi finally accepts that his—bright—warm—strange dream wasn't a dream at all. That the crone's impossible appearance in his (locked, booby-trapped) hideout had a purpose and reason beyond inscrutable absurdity.

Stubborn to the last, he'd tried to ignore the innate understanding that had settled inside his mind upon waking, already sick to death of external influences trying to enthrall him. But while his feelings of pride and spite might be fireproof, his supplies and base of operations...are not.

So.

He's out in the snow again, trudging along with a bundle of sticks, cardboard scraps, and...animal bones...in his small arms, intent on finding somewhere to practice. Because magic is a tool like any other, no matter the source, and he won't be stopped from learning how it works.

(Is it his imagination, or does the cold not bite as deeply as it used to?) ]

THE AURORA: KICKBACK

[On a low hill near the edge of Milton, a rustic cabin is burning down. The blaze is a glowing, pulsing light in the dark, blotting out the nighttime stars. Scrawled onto the side of the mailbox is a name—Finley Young, the letters half-illuminated, half-shadowed as the dancing, twisting flames climb higher into the sky.

And on top of the mailbox, posed there with careful carelessness, is a severed head.

(Finley's as well, one can presume.)

Blood drips from the jagged stump of the neck to pool on the ground, looking so much like ink or oil in the firelight. But it's neither of those things, it's blood, and the air is thick with it, copper and iron and smoke and ash that clog the throat and scrape through the sinuses.

There's no body to be found.]

WILDCARD

[got other ideas? want another party member for the Signal Void prompt? hit me up! my event planning comment is and i can be contacted through PM or discord @ ryebreading ]

i. as the dead sleep - cw: mentions of depression, suicide
All things must end. Dorian knows this feeling. It powered him for nearly a decade after Tobias Matthews, the man who Dorian loved, the man who's the closest thing Dorian had to a soulmate, killed himself in front of Dorian. It's the feeling that powered him for a decade and kept him going. It's the feeling that led Dorian to try and kill himself in so many new ways, just for his immortality to revive him, just so he can feel something. A man that is used to profound depression recognizes this feeling for what it is.

And so, Dorian walks. He makes his way through the woods, through the wilderness, to the edge of Milton basin. It's a long way down, and navigable from the top to the water. But Dorian doesn't look like he's navigating it. He's standing at the top, looking down at the basin, not really doing anything. He knows what he needs to do. But he...hesitates. He stares off down the cliffside, hands in his pockets, as if contemplating what to do next.

ii. as the dead sleep - unaffected
Oh I'm sorry, were you trying to get peace and solitude and put your guilts and your worries to rest in the church? The church where Dorian lives? The church that Dorian is really thinking of moving out of because people just keep bothering him.? Well you've got company. And that company is British, irritated, and huffy.

As the doors push open, Dorian looks up from his spot. He's lounging on a pew, reading a book, very carefully avoiding the beams of sunlight that shine through the annoyingly cleaned windows (stop caring about this building!!) When he spots whoever's arrived, he groans dramatically, like he's the most oppressed person on the planet.

"Please tell me you're here for a visit and not to put your sorrows to rest or whatever this round of supernatural bullshit is going on."

iii. aurora: kickback
Dorian doesn't even know who he killed. He'd seen them once or twice, out and about, though he never learned the man's name. But it really doesn't matter. What matters is he can feel the fire course through his veins, he sees the sickly green of the sky, and he immediately knows what he wants to do. People here already think he's a monster. People here have already made their judgements of him, based solely on something beyond his control. Why not give them what they want? Why not reduce this fucking town to rubble? Let him be the last man standing, as he should be. As he always is.

He's done worse things, after all. What's another murder or two in the grand scheme of things?

"You know," Dorian muses to whoever he approaches, intensity in his eyes that he's not even bothering to hide. "I've always hated it here. The cold, the isolation, the lack of basic fucking amenities. That's no secret. But one of the other reasons that I haven't actually talked about is the people." Dorian's a talker to begin with and the Darkwalker's influence is loosening his tongue even more than normal. He takes a few steps forwards, getting right in the personal space of whoever he's with as he hisses,

"You're all so fucking dull."

( ooc post here! please look it over as there's the possibility for some heavy themes in the first prompt. )

[ There's a new scent.

Hickey's been here long enough that he knows what the odd Enola drams entail. Someone's getting a new gift. It's not him this time (which is annoying, there's a gift or two Hickey won't say no to), but there's the possibility that whatever gift is given is something useful to him. To his slowly dwindling pack. If there are more wolves here, he wants to find them. So, after he wakes up, Hickey shifts to wolf form, pads outside, and starts to sniff around.

And he's rewarded for his efforts. New scent. New wolf. New possibilities.

Ironeye can smell Hickey before he approaches. Moments after he's visible, Hickey (a smaller wolf with grayish fur) practically tackles Ironeye. It's a playful gesture, a wolf trying to initiate wrestling over anything dangerous. His intent is coming through clear in his actions and their weird wolf Moon Touched connection. You're new here! New friend! New wolf! Play with me! ]

[ Play, said the instincts that had padded in alongside this unexpected new form of his. The man had long since left childish games behind, or at least no longer remembered how to start them. But the wolf knew the idea. He closed his jaws on empty air in a mock-bite, then danced from side to side, as if trying to get a better look at this new face.

Ironeye's wolf had pale fur; he was lean and built for speed. The way his paws never quite rested in one place, too, spoke of an urge to keep on the move.

New wolf, he agreed, not really even stopping to think about the implications of this and whether this stranger was a wolf-wolf or a man-wolf. Instead, he grabbed up a fallen branch in his mouth, and gave it a toss with a great shake of his head. Stick play? ]

Normally, Rorschach is in much better control of himself, knowing by now what sort of mind games the Darkwalker likes to play with the Interlopers. But right now he's tired of trying to be good, protecting some people who have never deserved it. Frankly, Dorian is really just giving him exactly what he desires: a chance to put the man down for good.

There's a look of cold fury on his face that reflects in the snarling tone that comes with his telepathy. He stands his ground, neither moving away from nor towards Dorian. "Back up unless you want to end up with broken fingers." Rorschach will only give the warning once. As he learned early on in his superheroing career, it's really difficult for people to fight back once he's snapped two or three digits. It's hard to hit with a broken hand or even think clearly once the pain sets in.

[ Ironeye was leaned back against the trunk of a tall, snow-covered pine some 15 feet off the ground, resting on one of its sturdier limbs. The faded green of his cloak was not amiss against the backdrop of its needles.

What was he doing? Minding his business, that was what. There was a still-in-progress arrow shaft on his lap, which he appeared to be quietly shaping with the dagger in his right hand. He noted Avi's progress through the snow, but said nothing at first.

If Avi noticed his presence, he'd say his hellos. If not, he'd wait and see what the stranger was up to. ]

[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.]

The Aurora: Kickback

The deep darkness - worse than night, without the moon or stars - makes Chloe's stomach twist in anxiety. She remembers last summer's Long Night and the nightmare of Midsummer. All the same, she feels even better than she had during the green fog: energized and sharp.

She goes outside to investigate and sees a green lightning streaking across the sky. Something inside her starts to build - fear, anger, hunger? - under incredible pressure, and she stalks off into the night.

She's ready to snap at the slightest provocation, and the closest she's ever been to being willing to seek out a victim to feed her curse. The Darkwalker may be wrong about a lot of things, but it is right about being the rot within her.

Post-Kickback

In the harsh light of day, everything feels different. Chloe looks sick and exhausted, and has clearly been in a fight. She seeks out people she trusts, people who might help her.

After determining that they got through the previous night as well as can be expected, she says, "Something happened. I don't know what to do."

Signal Void

Chloe doesn't have her own radio, but she does want to get out of town after everything that's happened. She will attach herself to any expedition looking around Milton, dressed in a way that will facilitate wolf transformation in case that's needed either for scent detection or defense from other wolves.

One other unexpected benefit to being a wolf is being able to dig in the snow. Once the bunker is unearthed, she changes back and dresses herself quickly, unbothered by any glances in her direction.

"This is even better than the Lakeside caches! Do you want to crack it open?"

Kickback

Chloe has been so good for so long since the Darkwalker had put its curse on her. She's held herself back, accepted the downsides but none of the benefits, but no longer.

She's stalking the streets of Milton, quick and quiet thanks to her Free Runner ability and her Darkwalker powers, when she comes upon a small group of Interlopers walking together, clearly armed.

They're coming after her and her friends, she thinks, just like all of the others will now that things are getting worse again. They deserve this.

Chloe taps the woman in the back of the group on the shoulder, then takes off her glove and grabs her by the throat. It would be nice to savor the power that flows into her through the point of contact, but it isn't safe. She drains everything and then drops the woman on the ground in a heap. Her friends turn, drawing their weapons, and Chloe panics, bursting into her wolf form, snarling and biting into them as they shoot at her to defend themselves.

She gets them down, tearing into their throats, then realizes that someone else is watching her. The Aurora Call power that she had absorbed as she'd killed Skylar means that she's unknowingly broadcasting feelings and impressions to that person now she way she does to other wolves in this body.

She recognizes Alicia right away. The girl had been unwell. Weak. If Chloe hadn't already sated her hunger, however temporarily, she would have jumped on her immediately. Instead, she stares at her, teeth bared and blood on her muzzle.

Scared. Hurt. Stay back.

[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.]

Signal Void

Randvi has gathered anyone in Silverpoint who is interested in following the strange signals picked up by the radios and led an expedition into the wilderness. They've held off wolves and even a bear with spears and fire by the time they locate the barrow in the earth.

She uses the warmth of her power to melt the snow covering the doorway.

"What do you think could be inside?"

[Chloe is checking her snares when she hears the bird fall.

She's standing when the man emerges from the trees.]

Hey. Nice shot.

Thank you.

[ Ironeye approached where she was standing, carefully stowing the bird away in his bag so as not to damage it, then inclined his head toward her traps. ]

How's the hunting going?

“I told you it was a mistake to live here,” Chloe points out as she walks into the church. “What’s going on?”

[Chloe rocks her hand from side to side.]

Could be better. Could be worse, too. Looks like there's lots of game out today.

Does that have anything to do with the lights? [ he asked, gesturing towards the sky in which the Aurora had been so outrageously on display earlier. He'd never seen a northern aurora before, but the world was full of strange phenomena. At least it wasn't a giant eye this time. ]

The animals I've seen seem restless. Especially the big ones -- they usually conserve their strength.

Something about this world - the Darkwalker, maybe - warps the predator animals. They're way more aggressive than you’d think.

[She extends her hand.]

Chloe Frazer, by the way. I'm assuming you're new here?

[ Hickey's smaller, more wiry, but he moves with the confidence of someone who knows he's boss. As far as Hickey's concerned, he's the leader of the pack here. He's the best wolf.

As Ironeye tosses the stick, Hickey bounds over to pick it up. He holds it in his mouth for a moment, paws low to the ground, moving in a play position, before he tosses it in Ironeye's general direction. He won't play keep away or tug of war just yet. But those games definitely suit his 'get in your face' sort of attitude more than catch. ]

The Darkwalker... that creature? [ Chloe surely knew the one. The one that spoke directly in one's ear. The old voice, the one that reminded him of home. ] I'll keep that in mind.

[ The man put out his own hand and shook hers. A firm grip, not overly crushing or delicate. The leather of his gloves was softened by long use. ] Ironeye. So what gave me away? [ His voice sounded faintly amused; after all, medieval archers tended to stick out a little in the untamed wilds of Canada. ]

Hickey, who has his own radio and also wants to get the fuck out of town for a bit, ropes Chloe into his expedition almost instantly. He's human-shaped at the moment—someone's got to hold and navigate with the radio, after all. As Chloe unearths the bunker, Hickey's already clambering down towards it, crowbar in hand, looking to try and find the best place to pry it open.

"Absolutely," he laughs. "Even if there's only tinned goods in here, it's bloody better than what we've had before!"

A bunker! Supplies! New things, supplies that Hickey and Billy can squirrel away when they inevitably decide to leave—ah. Right.

"Here, get down here. I've got another crowbar in my pack and can use some help."

And conversation away from other prying ears.

He hates that Chloe is right. Because she's absolutely right. And it's damn annoying to admit when you're wrong to begin with.

"Whatever's been going on, whatever wants people to confess or unload their sins...it's doing a wonderful job directing them to the church. Where I live. Frankly, I don't want to deal with anybody absolving their guilt, but it's not like I can go outside for too long most of the day."

Thanks, sun! Kindly fuck off!

Dorian doesn't move. He doesn't back away, but he doesn't come closer. Instead, he looks over Rorschach and lets out a low chuckle.

"No wonder barely anybody in this town can stand you. The slightest provocation and you threaten to bite—like one of those tiny little dogs standing behind a fence, yapping and fussing at whatever comes their way." Dorian sighs dramatically before pointing out, "It's boring. You're boring."

Ironeye. There aren't that many people here, so the new ones tend to stand out.

[Also people who have been here for some time already know about the animals. And the Darkwalker.]

“Sure thing.” Chloe finishes dressing and hops down, reaching for the crowbar.

“Billy and I met going through that prepper cave, do you remember that?”

Threaded | Top-Level Comments Only

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bury your doubts and fall asleep

Ironeye | Elden Ring: Nightreign

Avi | Original (Dungeons & Dragons)

Dorian Gray | The Confessions of Dorian Gray

moon touched

no subject

iii

enola's visit - incapable of saying hi like a normal person

Chloe Frazer | Uncharted

Open prompts

For Maelle (Clair Obscur spoilers, animal attacks, violence, death of npcs)

Randvi | Assassin's Creed: Valhalla

Open

hunting party

assuming snares are visible o7

ii

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

signal void

no subject

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