we were lost before she started

[singmod]

NOVEMBER 2025 EVENT

PROMPT ONE — THE AURORA: CROSSROADS ELEGY PT. 1: Enola speaks to the Interlopers again, and offers the Interlopers another change to gain a new ability.

PROMPT TWO — THE AURORA: CROSSROADS ELEGY PT. 2 The weather takes a turn for the worst when a deadly ice storm hits the Northern Territories.

PROMPT THREE — WINTER’S CURSE : The legend of an ancient curse becomes real, when Interlopers find themselves undergoing a monstrous transformation.

PROMPT FOUR — BONES IN THE OCEAN: A ship trapped in the ice that appears to be a lucrative scavenger location is actually not as deserted as Interlopers might think.

THE AURORA: CROSSROADS ELEGY PT. 1

WHEN: November 11th-13th.
WHERE: Everywhere.
CONTENT WARNINGS: mention of eye injury; potentially disturbing dreams; dreams of animal attacks; mentions of blood; dreams of the death of loved ones.

You don’t know if this is real or not. You don’t know if you’re awake or dreaming. But you find yourself standing in a burnt-out woods. For some Interlopers, this is a familiar place: you have been here before. As you look ahead, you notice the flickers of firelight through the blackened trunks of trees. Your feet move towards it and you find a small clearing; someone is sat by a campfire.

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, battered and bruised. But she smiles, looking up from the fire.

Enola.

“There you are.”

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. She knows your name, even if you have never told her it.

“Come sit with me for a while, hm?” she gestures. “We have a little time, it’s safe for now.”

Interlopers may question her about her fight with the Darkwalker back in September, and she’ll smile grimly and explain that she’s held it at bay for the time being — but she advises it’s not a permanent solution. She explains that when the Darkwalker first awoke just before Interlopers started arriving in the Northern Territories, it was weak and hungry. Over two years on, it is a starving beast — and gathering its strength.

“It will come for you again.” she warns. “I’m trying to keep it from you the best I can, but we are running out of time.”

She falls quiet for a while, watching the flames. Her hand reaches for them: they do not burn her.


“I was like you, once.” she says softly. “I came here when I was a child. Lost, scared, angry— I had no idea where I was, or how to get home. A strange little girl with powers, an Interloper. I wanted to go home so badly. I don’t anymore.”

She pulls her hand from the fire, and turns it over: watching flames dance in the palm of her hand. She looks at you expectantly.

“Do you miss it? Home? The people you left behind?”

She will listen intently, whatever your answer may be, giving you space to speak of it. While she is sorrowful for those who will speak of missing home, she seems to empathise more with Interlopers who do not wish to go home. Her reasons eventually come:

“I don’t remember my parents, or if I had siblings. I don’t remember the house I lived in, the neighbours on my street. It’s hard to miss something you don’t remember. Twenty six years is a long time. This world is the only place I can call home.”

She closes her hand, the flames extinguish.

“You amaze me, everyday.” she says, and there is pride in her one blue eye. “What you’ve built, together. At the end of the world.”

The sky rumbles overhead, Enola’s head lifts to it. She frowns deeply.

“A storm is coming. Take care.” she warns you. “I can help you again, if you choose it. If you have already chosen three, then I gift with you rest and peace. Sleep, and a dream will come.”

In a heartbeat, you’re back to where you once were. You’re unsure if you were really there, with Enola in the wood. Or if it was some kind of vision. Or maybe a dream. But whatever happened, it’s over.

And true to her word, when you next sleep, the Aurora is bright in the sky. A dream may come, if you choose it.


FREE RUNNER: The colours of the Aurora dance around you in your dreamscape. You dream you are a magnificent stag, galloping through the snowy woods with ease. You seem to go on and on, never tiring, never slowing. You feel like the wind, or perhaps the very wind itself carries you. Not once do you stumble or fall, even when the snow is thick and deep, or the ground is shaky and uneven beneath you. You feel free.

When you awaken, you feel the most refreshed you’ve ever felt since you first came here. For the final day of the Aurora, you are bursting with energy and even when the lights in the sky fade — that revitalised feeling within you remains. There’s something within you that understands: you are the Free Runner. The ground will yield beneath you, your energy will not desert you, the wind will carry you.

INTERLOPER’S SACRIFICE: The colours of the Aurora dance around you in your dreamscape and then fade into nothing. You dream of kneeling in a darkened, charred wood. You are not alone. In this dreamscape, you dream of a loss, or a time you have never felt more helpless in your life. Perhaps it is when someone you knew died before you, or you stood as someone was sick and injured and you were unable to do a thing. As you kneel, they are there with you: sick or dying or even dead in your arms. You cannot do anything but hold them, and the helplessness is overwhelming.

You look up and Enola stands before you, her expression solemn. There are tears in her eyes, as if she shares the very pain you do: the loss, the grief, the hopelessness, the powerlessness. She approaches you and lowers herself to kneel in front of you and your companion, bracing your shoulders for a long, lingering moment. There are no words, none from neither of you.

Enola shifts slightly, leans forwards. She kisses your forehead, much like when a parent kisses their child: sweet and tender.

Enola pulls away and you gasp, slumping in exhaustion, but still alive, somehow. You stare at her, sweating and clamouring for breath, and she offers you a sad smile. Never again. you feel the words inside of you. This time, it will be different. Better.

When you awaken, you can still feel the kiss upon your forehead — enough to make your fingers reach up to touch it, your entire body tingling a little. A small voice in the back of your mind whispers, reminding you as you find yourself looking down at your hands: never again. Never again, you tell yourself and the comprehension comes to you: you have chosen. This is what it means to be: this is your sacrifice. The Interloper’s Sacrifice.


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

You feel… warm, with blood. You are injured. Sharp claws have torn your flesh, fangs have punctured you, mangled your bones. The pain is overwhelming, and you look up to a shadow of a great and terrible beast. Some Interlopers may recognise this creature. Others may not.

This is the Old Bear. Now gone from this place, but it has returned once more to offer a boon.

Impossibly big in this dream, more so than the phantom that haunted Interlopers earlier this year. It towers over you. You cannot win this fight. You are tired, weak and injured.

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

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

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

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

You will not be afraid.

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


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: CROSSROADS ELEGY PT. 2

WHEN: Mid-November.
WHERE: Everywhere.
CONTENT WARNINGS: extreme weather; potential property damage; potential character injury; potential character death; potential NPC death/injury.

Enola had warned of a coming storm, and she isn’t the only one. Methuselah returns to Milton unexpectedly in mid-November to warn of a storm coming. He’s done this before, warning Interlopers of particularly dangerous weather — able to sense the signs around him. He’ll take up refuge in the Community Hall, like he’s done previously, and both warns and helps Interlopers to prepare. You do not have long, the storm is almost upon the Northern Territories.

Both Enola and Methuselah’s words ring true. The clouds that gather are thick and heavy, the air shifts and you hear the rumblings of thunder in the skies above you. The faint daylight grows darker still. Of course, November is well known for its terrible weather — with an increase in blizzards and snowfall and a huge drop in temperatures. And maybe, you guess, that’s what they refer to. A monster blizzard, or some super storm where the temperature plummets low enough to freeze a man solid.

It isn’t snow that begins to fall, but ice.

The hailstones are small, at first. But they grow larger: irritating, stinging when they make contact with soft, fleshy bodies. The sky swirls and darkens more, the thunder grows louder and crackles like the thrum of electricity.

Even in the clouded skies, lightning strikes: the dark is punctured with bright flashes of white light, illuminating the world below.

What starts off as hailstones the size of peas, then growing to the size of small marbles grows even bigger still: hailstorms the size of golfballs, and some even the size of tennis balls start to rain down from the heavens. They fall thick and fast, hard enough to put dents in the decaying, rusting cars and trucks that have lain in Milton’s snowbanks for well over two years now. Hard enough to break the glass of windscreens. Hard enough to start damaging roofs, or smaller, weaker structures within the world.

Hard enough to split skin, or even knock a man unconscious. Or maybe even cause the end of them.

Sometimes, when the lightning strikes, it does not remain within the clouds. Bolts can strike downwards — towards the earth, posing danger to anyone in the vicinity.

It would be wise to hole up and buckle down. Venturing outside would be dangerous to both man and beast alike. While the ferociousness of the storm can ebb and flow, it will not ease up for three days — after which the skies will finally calm and the weather returns to its usual miserable November fare.

WINTER’S CURSE

WHEN: The Month of November, into December.
WHERE: Everywhere.
CONTENT WARNINGS: folk/supernatural horror; curses; body horror; mood/behaviour changes; emetophobia; potential NPC death.

It starts with a dream. This dream is not like one of the ones associated with Enola. It feels like an ordinary dream: a cloudless, calm night. The moon is full, the air is cold. You stand outside, breathing in that crisp air. You enjoy the peace, walking through the snow.

Two glowing eyes are watching you from the dark.

You do not notice them, not at first. Your head turns, and you see them: unblinking in the inky black. The eyes of some kind of animal. You stare for a long moment, uncertain, slowing to a stop on your walk.

You look away.

As you look back, a huge shape leaps out at you: long limbs and claws and the glowing eyes.

You awake with a sharp snap, startled. You feel cold, shaken. You don’t quite realise what’s happened to you, not just yet.

You carry on as normal. You go about your day to day, whatever chores you hurry through in the daylight hours and whatever you do to wile away the hours during the lengthening nights. But little things begin to crop up, things you or others notice about you.

You find yourself hungering for raw meat, no matter your preferences beforehand. The idea of cooked meat makes your stomach churn. You find yourself averse to hot fires, or warm environments — shirking away from the heat. You’re more withdrawn than usual, prone to snapping with others, losing yourself a little — forgetting who you are.

But it’s not just these behaviours that change about you. As the days go on, there’s physical changes that become harder and harder to hide:

You notice lumps protruding at your temples. Over time, the skin breaks painfully and horns begin to grow from your head. Your nails lengthen, become claw-like. Your teeth sharpen and your smile widens unnaturally. You become taller, more gaunt. You feel a coldness in your chest, something slow — like something is quietly beginning to freeze within you. You may even begin to grow white fur, or your hair turns white.

And the eyes. Your eyes take on a pale, reflective sheen — glowing in the darkness like an animal. The same eyes that you once saw in a dream.

Methuselah is the one to note the changes to these afflicted Interlopers, whilst he is in Milton during and shortly after the storm. He will try to tend to any Interlopers who come to him, or have been brought to him by others for medical assistance.

“You remember the tale of Old Bear, of the White Stag? Stories of this world that have been made real by the strange machinations of late. I fear this is one more.” he says gravely.

“There is a story in the Northern Territories of a beast that lives within the mountains. Solitary, hateful. It is said that it would capture its victims and transform them into angry creatures of hate and snow — cursing them to be just like it. If victims were not saved in time, they would be lost forever — doomed to carry on the beast’s curse.

Some stories tell of ways to end the curse on the beast’s victims: the afflicted soul must find a way to purge the curse that lies inside their body — a heart of ice. Some are released of the curse by being shown kindness and compassion from others. Other stories involve the victim being submerged in heat as a way of thawing the ice heart’s grip on them enough to allow them to sick it up.

For those lost forever, when the curse has finally taken hold, there is only one way to end it and grant them mercy: to fire a flaming arrow into the victim’s heart.”

It is not much to go off, but perhaps it is enough. Interlopers must work out a way to end the beast’s curse and save their fellow Interlopers — before it is too late for them to come back.

BONES IN THE OCEAN

WHEN: Mid-late November.
WHERE: Silverpoint, the Coast.
CONTENT WARNINGS: themes of survival/exploration; potentially dangerous situations; shipwrecks; ghost-related horror; hauntings; possible character injuries; themes of peril/terror.

The Docks have largely been empty of ships, with the exception of a few ruined fishing boats that had been sheltered within the safety of the harbour until the ice trapped them and started to break them apart. They have long since been picked off by the townsfolk of Silverpoint, and there isn’t much for Interlopers to scavenge from. Beachcombing is typically the way to go in terms of finding things, but… something else has appeared in the month of November.

It’s Marra that raises the alarm first. She sends out messages to Interlopers via the radios she’d helped fix up for them — passing the message on that a new ship has been sighted, either run aground or trapped within the ice. A huge freighter.

Interlopers who decide to make the journey down to Silverpoint will be met with Jace, who’s been awaiting them at the Frozen Angler.

“It turned up out of nowhere.” Jace explains. “We didn’t hear anything, either. Fog had been pretty heavy the past week or so, and then we got that storm with the lightning and monster hail. Marra spotted it early in the morning when the fog finally cleared and told my mom. Figured it might be a better idea to hit it up with a group since the thing’s massive. It’s probably been floating around for ages.”

If Interlopers look to the south east, they will see something stuck out on the ice: a ship. Some sort of cargo ship, but there’s no knowing what kind of cargo may be on it. Perhaps it’s one that was on its way to the island with a shipment before things all went terribly wrong. Or maybe, as Jace suggests, it’s been floating around on the seas for some time before it’s run adrift towards the island.

As midwinter approaches, the ice has stretched even further out than it has previously, and certainly grown far sturdier. As long as care is taken, it is possible for Interlopers to move out onto the sea ice and reach the ship.

The ship sits at an odd angle, listing to one side as it rests in the frozen ice. Climbing aboard, Interlopers will find the deserted wreck of a cargo ship: rusted and aged by sea air and salt water. While difficult to maneuver through the ship due to the list, it’s possible to explore.

(You don’t realise there are eyes watching you as you stagger over the ship’s deck.)

Exploring the main body of the ship will unveil that a crew had been present at some point: belongings remain, living quarters have been used, the place is lived in. But Interlopers will find everything covered in a layer of dust — no one’s been aboard in a while.

(You don’t see the ghostly figure watching you from behind you as you rifle through a backpack, but you feel like someone’s there.)

There are no corpses to be found, though. Which begs the question: where are the crew?

The kitchens do have food within them. Mostly portables, canned goods, things that don’t need refrigeration, or simple ‘ready to eat’ meals. They’re still in good shape, no damage to them. They’ll be a welcome addition to food stores, considering the winter.

(There’s a clatter behind you, a cupboard of metal plates spill out and scatter across the floor. The sound echoes.)

Traversing down into the hold will reveal the ship’s cargo: the ship appears to have been a dry bulk vessel. Inspecting the crates will reveal grains, cereals, coal and ores. A few of the crates have been damaged, but most of the them are in good condition and the contents are unspoiled.

(You hear whispering carry the full length of the hold, angry chittering and low rumbles. You think it might just be rats.)

The longer you spend on the ship, the more you feel something is… off. A low-churning dread in the pit of your stomach. The hairs on the back of your neck prickle. You know it’s cold, considering you’re within a steel ship lodged within the ice but… it feels colder, in a way that doesn’t feel like it’s referring to the temperature. Even Jace’s curiosity and cheer is subdued as he shudders: ”Man, this place is giving me the heebie-jeebies.”

You begin to load up, taking your share to head back to land with. The ship seems to groan around you, the strain of the steel against the ice. You’re stopped dead in your tracks.

Before you stands the spectral form of a sailor. His clothing half-soaked, half-frozen, his skin frostbitten and sunken. His mouth opens, and an inhuman sound comes out and with a jerk, he lunges for you. You stumble back, trying to avoid him, you fall. The spectre disappears by the time you next look — but you are no longer alone.

Further instances transpire: more ghosts of sailors appearing wherever you are on the ship, trying to lunge for you — causing you to trip or fall, trying to cause harm to you on the dangerously listing ship. Objects will go flying at you: plates, cutlery with deadly precision, sometimes even the broken crates of goods will come hurtling your way. Or even ship ropes or chains, trying to ensnare you in them and throttling you.

If they manage to catch you, they grip at you tightly, sucking the warmth and strength right out of you — your breath forced from your lungs and you can barely breathe.

The obvious decision would be to leave. It appears the ghosts are protective over their cargo and ship, and do not wish to be disturbed — but there are perhaps ways of dispersing the ghost temporarily in order to get out (and hopefully with some cargo in tow).

Given the power in stories in this place, the ways which are believed to tackle ghosts might just work on these ones. It’s worth trying, for the sake of valuable items being brought back to shore.

FAQs

THE AURORA: CROSSROADS ELEGY PT. 1

1. Aurora Feats are unlocked! For this round, RNG picked Free Runner, Interloper’s Sacrifice and Old Bear’s Blessing.

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 November, players will have to wait for the next Feat round for another chance at an Aurora Feat.

THE AURORA: CROSSROADS ELEGY PT. 2

(n/a)

WINTER’S CURSE

1. This creature is based on the Chenoo legend, in which ways of helping the creature transform back into a human revolve around themes of kindness being transformative.

2. With that, ways of healing affected Interlopers by breaking the curse are showing them genuine compassion/kindness/love — which can be open to interpretation.

3. Additional ways of helping could be Lightbringers using their bodily warmth to help the afflicted Interloper melt down the heart enough to throw it up (ie. hugging it out). Or even shoving them in a hot bath, or taking them to the hotsprings could help!

4. Players are fine to have an NPC Interloper fully transform to the curse and choose the violence option if they wished to play out a more action-packed thread. Interlopers lost to the curse completely are violent, fierce creatures that will attack others and try to inflict the curse open them, thus carrying on the cycle.

BONES IN THE OCEAN

1. Further attempts to scavenge from the ship will have much of the same effect.

2. Ways of defeating ghosts in fiction would work on temporarily dispersing the ghosts in this case: salt, holy water, fire/light, perhaps even some kind of exorcism may ease the spirits for a short while.

PLOTTING POST

Comments

D'Artagnan | The Musketeers

[gascogne]

1. crossroads elegy

— a. storm
[Unnerved by the vision of Enola, followed by an eerily undisturbed and near tranquil sleep where D'Artagnan had felt rested and rejuvenated rather than prone to lazing about and grumbling in his slow typical awakenings, he hadn't heeded her warning of the impending storm so readily. All but dismissed it as a piece of the strangeness he chooses, foolishly, to ignore. Methuselah's presence hadn't held so much interest to have gathered round the old man upon his return, and though peripherally aware of the man's own apprehension and preparations, D'Artagnan has more important things to concern himself with. And so, at the coming of the storm, he'd been out in the surroundings of Milton, wandered long past the church, burdened only by sparse trapping gear, his parrying dagger, and a couple of sturdy slightly crooked branches he'd whittled into spears, trudging through the snow, pausing to reflect on his lamentable decisions only as the sky darkens rapidly and the first sharp sting of ice strikes his cheek. Thunder cracks, and he runs.]

— b. aftermath
[Returning to Milton days later, not without minor injury but having escaped any fate too terrible, D'Artagnan surveys the main thoroughfare, dragging one foot just noticeably, but persevering as if he isn't, a determination in his stride. There's dried blood across one side of his face, faint smearings as if cleared haphazardly and not bothered with again, only scratches beneath already mending. He'll stop every now and again if witness to significant damage of buildings, follow smoke rising if fires still burn from the lightning, and offer assistance to anyone who appears in a worse state than himself or those making repairs or contending with debris.]

Can I help?

[His voice is low and scratchy and he sounds a bit weary, but there is an eagerness underneath it. D'Artagnan may yet possess no gifts or abilities with which to contribute, but he's a large man, young and healthy, and more than willing to be given direction; he'll attend to himself and get something to eat later.]


2. winter's curse (unaffected)
[Monsters and creatures are not something D'Artagnan had a wealth of information about, hardly any time for the regaling of stories or folklore, and little interest in the fantastical; that is, until he'd seen a large bull-man take form from a tale at the campfires, brought to life from speaking of it. It slowly comes upon him, the transformations he sees in increments, and at first he doesn't associate an avoidance of warmth as anything but perhaps a more mundane bout of illness and mild delirium, attentive in his coaxing with soft queries or suggestions to join him nearer a fire or to take a warm cup of tea. Once the physical manifestations take hold, his concern slides towards apprehension, and he keeps his sword or dagger within reach, ready for a confrontation should anyone afflicted look at him sharply or make sudden moves. Later, with Methuselah's explanation quelling the small threads of fear, he's quick to set them aside to help with the curse in any way he might be of use, emotional or physical warmth without hesitation, heating water for a hot bath, perhaps in a desperate or impulsive ill-advised attempt even burning the skin with the hot charred end of a stick pulled from the fire, with blithe apologies for necessary mistreatment.]


3. wildcard / bones in the ocean
(for bones in the ocean d'artagnan does know of silverpoint and has expressed his interest in seeing it to a few people, but doesn't have a radio (or know what one is) and likely wouldn't have heard the broadcast. he needs to be recruited, but i'm here for any threads on traveling to silverpoint or trying to scavenge the ghost ship. see plotting comment, up for anything else with the event or general non-event things, also have an open catchall here. brackets and prose both fine.)

2. winter's curse

[fissure]

[ For days the curse has been building within Billy Prior, a dire and rotten seed growing slowly into something that's unworldly in its making. He's grown centimeters since his last venture out – so many he'd needed to duck the door frame – and where pale blue eyes once peered out purposefully, the white has engulfed his irises, the eye-shines almost appearing to glow with even the barest hint of ambient light.

Lumbering through the snow, the officer's coat hangs like a rag from his shoulders, only extending to his hips where before it would have reached at least his knees. At the wrists, there is a full spread of skin past the cuff, where long limbs extend to long fingers to long nails.

When he sees D'Artagnan, the sound that issues forth is both a growl and a chitter, like he's grown something more than a voice box in the previous days. He may, in fact, mean some harm. ]

1a~

[shewhograspsthesky]

[She, too, has been outside most of the day. She heard of the storm in passing and ignored it. More snow? Oh no, whatever will they do...

So as the first round of hail pelts down, she's still not alarmed. There's a confidence, perhaps even arrogance that it will soften to snow. But instead, the hail gets bigger and she finds herself trying to sprint for cover when she sees him.

Where is he going?

She can hardly yell, and certainly the cacophony of hail crushing everything slowly and methodically is hardly helping any other sound travel. So she sprints until she's beside him, easily keeping pace, her hands covering her head in a futile effort. One of her hands is already bleeding from an earlier impact.]

We need to get inside somewhere. There's nowhere safe out here.

[Her voice is a rasping, hoarse sound that barely carries over the pelting ice.]

2

[ricochetingbullets]

[Dex doesn't even realize anything is wrong with him. After all, his grasp on sanity has always been a tenuous thing, so when the changes gradually come upon him they all just seem like the oddities that happen in this place. He's always hungry now, ever since that first strange dream, let alone the second one, plus he's eaten plenty of animals as a wolf. So it just seems logical when the two seem to coalesce together and he starts eating raw meat in human form. He doesn't even think there's anything odd about the streaks of pure white that have started to appear in his hair either.

He's fine. It's fine. Everything is fine.

He doesn't seem all that happy when D'Artagnan approaches him one day while he's busy tearing a rabbit apart. He pulls the remains of the body closer to him in a possessive manner]

This. Is. Mine!

[No sharing! Get your own!]

1.b., Aftermath

[wanderwolf]

[OOC: I see no one is doing a 1.b. thread with you so far, and it seems unkind not to heal poor D'Artagnan! But since we've already got an injury/healing thread going, if you'd like to do a different kind of action, please do let me know and I can change this comment.]

[Shao Anjun is in the middle of repairing the wooden front door and porch of his chosen house on Blackrock Road when he sees D'Artagnan returning to town. And of course - the young man is limping and bloody.

He immediately abandons the piece of splintered wood he had been removing from the floor of his porch, grabs his herbalism bag, and hurries over to his injured friend.]

Hello, D'Artagnan. Yes, I believe you can help - come inside with me, will you?

1B!

[m1895]

[ It’s not too terribly often that people without imminent need for medical assistance come by the stone fenceline that Vasiliy and Kostya have been assembling piecewise on over the past month—save, of course, for Chloe and some of their other friends (more Kostya’s friends than his own, excepting Levi). In large part this is probably due to where their small homestead is situated in relation to the center of town, i.e., further out from it; Vasiliy’s more withdrawn personality, despite his partner’s gregarious nature, probably doesn’t help. So when the man, whom Vasiliy has seen before but never spoken to, staggers towards the front steps after a moment of studying the dented tin roof and Mukhtar throws up the alarm, head tossed back and long white teeth flashing with an explosion of barking, Vasiliy pauses in pulling boards away from the blocked-off exterior windows of the cabin and sets down his hammer to trot out to him, the fresh thick layer of snow and hail crunching under his utility boots.

The black-maroon crust of dried blood smeared over the man's face is what catches his eye first, less because it looks like a serious bleed and more because it might be an outward indicator of an impact, some sort of head trauma, from debris. Vasiliy can’t tell from his vantage point whether or not the ankle he’s dragging is swollen, but assumes it is if it’s an injury bad enough to make him want to avoid putting weight on it. That’s also the reason he assumes the man is coming for—until he calls out and offers to help, at which point Vasiliy’s thick dark brows furrow, his forehead creasing sharply above them. ]

No. You cannot put weight on this foot? How far have you been walking?

James Fitzjames | The Terror

[gildedlife]

[open and closed starters below | plotting comment | wildcards welcome!]

Crossroads Elegy Pt.2 - Before the Storm

[gildedlife]

[James really hadn't prepared all that much the first time a massive storm had hit. Although it had been a few months after arrival, he'd still been so unwell, barely getting by with basics day to day, and had ended up just accepting the offer to stay with Francis and Raju during the storm. It had ended up being a disaster, and in way he never could've expected.

So this time, James is preparing on his own, but this is still not exactly his forte. He has plenty of food after a successful deer hunt, and he's long since gotten pretty decent at foraging, but some of the more manual labor is neither his area of expertise nor as easy as it might've been a few years earlier.

Gathering wood is the current task at hand, and the hatchet he's managed to acquire for the job is making it obvious why it had still been laying around, available to find. It chops, but only barely, and James' patience is clearly running out when it comes to the whole process. A poorly placed strike and the hatchet slips, clipping against the edge of the branch, prompting James to jump back so as not to hit himself in the foot with the wayward tool.

Scout, the malamute James adopted and who has been supervising from afar, lifts her head and fixes him with a judgemental look. He sighs.]

Perhaps freezing is not so terrible a prospect after all.

Crossroads Elegy Pt.2 - Holed Up

[gildedlife]

[tbd!]

Bones In The Ocean

[gildedlife]

[Of course he had to go to Silverpoint upon hearing of the ship. Not only does he prefer Silverpoint to Milton or Lakeside, James hasn't been onboard a ship--a real ship, anyway, not one of the tiny destroyed fishing boats--since abandoning Erebus. Even though he knows this ship will be nothing like those he's familiar with, he wants to see it, and if it's carrying important supplies then all the better.

But the sight of the thing trapped in the ice is so familiar, that, for a brief moment, James is off the shore of King William's Land, looking up at the ominous lean of Terror as the ship tilts in the ice. But it isn't Terror, and they're further south, and the ship is metal and clearly more modern than anything James has ever seen before.

He approaches the ship with the group, but once inside he soon breaks off to explore further, though he won't turn away company that either comes with initially, or that he might run into later in the corridors.]

wildcard! crossroads elegy ii

[faa]

[ The hail starts at the size of peas, pinging off of the overhang of tin roofing that shields the small porch of the small fieldstone cabin Freddie's taken up residence in; it's immediately recognizable to him as such, even if he's only seen it a few times, and only ever in New York.

But it doesn't stay at that innocuous if annoying size. It escalates, and that's when it becomes dangerous—the size of pieces of gravel, then car-denting ping-pong balls that would almost certainly bruise anyone left outside. And there's no telling how much further this place might take it, considering that the impossible - entering the memories of others, controlling fire - is in fact very possible here. This is not a good situation to get stuck in.

So Freddie's already calling out to the man he sees hunched over and shielding his head with his arms, even before he clocks that the tall frame is a familiar one. ]

Hey—hey! Over here! Get out of there, you can come here and ride it out!

Zoey Westen | Original Character

[pythianwoman]

starters to come in the comments below
plotting! | ThriceWiddershins

before the storm.

[pythianwoman]

When Zoey had woken up, that first time after that last dream, she’d felt the most like herself that she’d felt since her arrival here. Since this place had stolen what she was. It felt like a piece of herself had been slotted back into place. Not the same piece, but it fits all the same. She’d been… giddy, almost. That giddiness has eased, mostly, but there’s still a little flutter of it in her chest, sometimes.

She’d flung herself into figuring out all the intricacies of the new powers she’s found herself with. It hadn’t been the first time she’d suddenly found herself with some new, interesting ability that she hadn’t been born with. So she’d flung herself into learning this new particular flavour of pyrotechnics, learning how to be a wolf, with the same fascination and delight as she learns anything new.

But she doesn’t have to, with this. Not in the same way. She knows it, knows how it works. There’s just a… different flavour to it, this new-old power of hers.

Her days vary. Sometimes she can be found on the porch of the building she calls home, surrounded by glass bottles, a container of sugar, a bundle of pine needles, and a bucket filled with water. She stuffs pine needles in the bottle, followed by several spoonfuls of sugar. She finishes up with filling with water, capping it, and setting it aside to start on the next one. She’ll be starting to bottle her mead, soon. But for the moment, it’s pine soda. It’s easy. And the pine needles are fucking plentiful.

Other times she can be found, in the evening and late into the night, perched on the rooftop of her home, or another building, with a bottle in hand. Drinking on rooftops has been a tradition for her since the first world she’d found herself in. And she sees no reason to break it. (Her bottle varies, depending on when she’s found. Whiskey, sometimes. Tequila sometimes. And sometimes it’s a bottle of moonshine from her still.)

She keeps on the move, a lot. Through Milton, and down to Lakeside. Hunting, sometimes, on two legs and four, plus gathering supplies and looking for useful plants. Such as they are in the constant winter. And other things, too. She can be found exploring just about anywhere.

She can be found at the hot springs, too, sometimes. Soaking in the glorious hot water (giving glimpses or more of scars and tattoos). Might as well take advantage of being able to thaw at least sometimes. (Gods, she fucking hates the cold. And snow.)

It’s not all the time, but she’ll sometimes string up the aerial silks she’d gotten from a boar onto a tall, sturdy branch, and just hang there, as at ease in the air as she is on the ground. She’d missed it. Although it does make her think of places she’s been. And people she’s lost.

the aurora: crossroads elegy.

[pythianwoman]

Zoey’s grown accustomed to the dreams by now, so similar to the dreams this place had stolen from her when it had stolen her powers. They’re almost comforting. She’s chosen her three, but it’s good to see Enola all the same. To try and bolster her, as best she can. It’s all she can do, to help Enola, in her stand against the Darkwalker. She has been here a long time, Enola. And Zoey wonders if their stay will be as long.

She thinks the Darkwalker will have something to say about that.

She talks a little of home, and of the homes she’s found throughout the multiverse, when Enola asks if she misses home. She’s honest. And she’s honest that she doesn’t think that she’ll ever go home again. That she’s not sure she wants to. Not to stay. (That she wants to find those she’s lost.)

When Zoey wakes, nothing has changed. But she feels rested. Which is a rare thing, anymore.

But Enola had warned of a storm, and Methuselah echoes the same, so Zoey keeps her eyes on the horizon, watching for the signs. Waiting. Listening. It feels like they’re standing on the edge of a precipice, waiting to see what this storm will bring. What hells will be unleashed this time?

It brings hail. The size of peas, to start, and growing larger. More dangerous. Despite the danger, Zoey still ventures out. To watch for her fellow Interlopers. Some might not have been able to find their way to shelter. Some might have been caught off-guard. New to the shit this world throws at those who have found their way here. She’s armed with something that almost resembles a shield, in an effort to protect herself, and any she might find in her searching.

It might be fruitless, might be dangerous, but she’s always been reckless with her own safety when it comes to keeping others safe. It’s worth the risk. It’s always worth the risk.


aftermath.
Afterward, days later, once the storm has finally passed, Zoey ventures out once more, heedless of any injuries she’d gotten. Eventually she gets around to starting repairs on the damage her home had suffered. (There was more than she’d like, but less than she’d honestly expected.) But first, she makes the rounds. Continuing to look out for others who she might not have been able to find during the storm, or helping with repairs. Picking up the mess the storm had left behind. Keeping herself busy. Running herself ragged.

Aviendha | Wheel of Time

[fardareismai]

i. crossroads elegy

[Aviendha is not a Dreamwalker. Yet everything she's experienced on this night is what she might expect from what she's heard of Tel'aran'rhiod. The weight of the interaction and warning not something she can ignore due to her nature. Dreams have meaning in her world and a sinking feeling comes to her when she awakens that they may have here too. Storms are not something Aviendha has experience with only having seen torrential rainfall and that was channeled from the sky by a human so how one is to prepare for the storm is something she'll have to seek out. Exploring Milton she searches for other interlopers for questions trying to find out if anyone else had reason to believe there'd be an upcoming storm and advice for how to deal with it. In exchange she'll offer help hunting for any other supplies or help to get through the storm.

The second dream is the odder one. A recreation of something past lived makes her much more curious about the nature of Enola herself, things aren't recreated in the dream world. The gift something she's cautiously aware of. Though she has not the knack for healing back home it is a skill that drains people and can even burn them out and it's something she knows to be cautious with. The clouds grow darker on and just when she's about to ask someone about Enola the first thumps of hail land and instead she asks about seeking shelter together. Aviendha might not be the best of company but if she does hole up with someone she'd liable to listen and ask questions about not only this place but also wherever her partner may come from.]

ii. wildcard / other

OOC: With Aviendha not affected by Winter's Curse and not knowing of Silverpoint more then hearing of it in passing mention she'll be happily recruited into either. If you'd like a custom starter for anything else I'm happy to write one just send me a PM.

i

[friendsfordinner]

What, a storm coming? Probably.

[ Aviendha runs into Hickey when he's walking back to his house from the woods, two dead rabbits slung over his shoulder. He moves like someone who's used to the cold, moving through the snow with ease. His clothing is an odd assortment, a mish-mash scavenged from various abandoned houses, focused more on warmth over fashion. ]

That Enola girl's keeping secrets from us, but I can't see why she'd lie about that. Besides, I overheard that old man talking about it as well. [ He means Methuselah. ] He's also secretive, but again—can't see why he'd lie.

[ Hickey gives Aviendha a cavalier little shrug before, ] Just stay inside, yeah? And if you're stuck outside, don't touch any metal. Saw it rip a man's skin off once.

[ What lovely opening conversation. ]

Tim Gutterson | Justified

[comfortablyerect]

STORM | Community Hall

If Tim is going to heed anybody's warnings around here, it's gonna be Methuselah's and Enola's. It's weird to trust people he doesn't know -- one of whom he really only sees in dreams. But he's fought a few wars. Sometimes allies come from unexpected places. Besides, they need all the help they can get in this grueling battle against the Darkwalker.

And against this storm. They don't have much time to prepare, but in the couple of days leading up to the approaching blizzard, Tim busies himself with making sure the Community Hall is stocked -- cleaning out traps, quick hunting sessions, cutting wood, making sure there's extra blankets and pelts and clothes.

Once it hits, the skies dark and the winds howling, bringing the scenery to life outside, all there's left to do is wait. Wait and hope they don't run out of anything essential before it blows over. Thankfully, Tim's very good at waiting.

When he's not with Raylan (which is actually fairly often with the cranky attitude his partner's had), he spends most of the time sitting away from the fire with a small stack of books he thought to bring to pass some of the time. Better to save the spots in front of the fire for folks who don't have an abnormally high internal temperature.

Anybody who stops and lingers longer than a few moments won't get a glance, but a couple of murmured sentences as he reads.

"Take a book, if you want. Brought plenty."

STORM | Around Milton (aftermath)

Three days later, the hail finally stops and the skies clear up. After determining that everyone who holed up in the Community Hall is no worse for wear, Tim decides it's time to venture out and start assessing the damages. He's not too worried about the property damage -- it'll be a pain in the ass to fix, broken windows needing boarding up, roofs and porches needing patched.

Not everyone sheltered in the Community Hall, and there's no telling who might've gotten caught out in things, either not heeding the warning or underestimating how bad things can get around here. What he's really looking for is stragglers, those who might need help.

And now-- now he has another 'gift' from Enola, and though he's not particularly eager to use it -- it might end up coming in handy.

When he spots someone he calls out, hand half-cupped around his mouth so his voice carries a little further.

"Hey-- you good?"

WINTER'S CURSE | Milton Woods

A lot of weird shit happens here -- but he didn't think he'd ever be sneaking around the woods hunting his partner.

But that's exactly what he's doing. There's a hunting rifle slung across one shoulder, more for protection from the local wildlife than anything else, a pack of various supplies on his back. Thank God he's gotten pretty decent at tracking. Taking note of the broken branches between the trees, the carelessly trampled foliage on the ground. The tracks in the snow are his biggest asset, assuring that he's tracking something at least humanoid rather than a bear or a moose.

He has Goose with him, Raylan's loyal wolfpup sticking close. Tim has no idea if he's capable of tracking anything or not -- and even if he is, if he'd be able to get a hold of Raylan's scent with all the changes. But the company is nice to have. He'd considered getting someone to come with him. Zoey might've been a good option, but he knows his partner. The less people around for this, the better.

"Goose." He calls the wolf's name, barely louder than speaking volume because he's not wanting to alert everything in a half mile radius to his presence. Goose barks once -- which could mean he found something, but that something could be anything from a treed squirrel to a total stranger.

Closed to tinstar

They spend so long tracking that Tim starts to worry that he's going to have to find some kind of cover to set up camp for a few hours to get some rest. With as time sensitive as the curse is, and the fact that Raylan could be basically fucking anywhere his stupidly long legs can take him, he came prepared for a multi-day journey.

He's not to that point yet, though. At least he has a vague plan after hearing Methuselah's advice on the curse. The hardest part, he thinks, will be finding his partner, then wrangling him still long enough to put some God damn heat into him. There is no alternative, no world or universe or timeline where Tim doesn't walk out of these woods with Raylan in tow or die trying.

Nothing else matters. They have each other's backs. Always. Even when Raylan refuses to tell him what's going on and lets it get catastrophic.

Just a part of a larger pattern from his partner that he maybe should've considered before agreeing to be his boyfriend, but-- it's not like it would've changed his answer. Several yards ahead of him, Goose freezes in his tracks, and Tim does too. The young wolf lets out a bark so quiet it sounds more like a boof that Tim barely hears, then he bolts between the trees.

Tim wastes no time following. Now they seem to be getting somewhere.

[ Tim will be around town preparing before the storm, weathering the storm in the Community Hall, and will be around Milton immediately after providing aid. He just gained Interloper's Sacrifice with this event that he'll be open to using. The Winter’s Curse prompt is open to anyone to find him searching the woods before he finds Raylan! Hit me up at raye_nbow or on discord (falonlea) for plotting! ]

Storm - Community Hall

[ricochetingbullets]

Rather than a person, it is in fact a wolfdog that stops in front of Tim. He sits there, mouth open and tongue lolling out of his mouth, before he reaches out with a big paw and tries to get Tim's attention by persistently pawing at him.

Within three minutes, Dex comes up after him, grabbing him by the scruff of the neck so that he can pull him away. He makes another note to finish off that leather collar he's been making for the beast so he has something else to grab when Cy starts to wander off. "Cy, leave the nice man alone. He doesn't want to play." Does the wolfdog actually understand him? Who knows. But Dex approaches having a new pet the way he does everything else: with logic rather than an emotional attachment, which means that he is essentially treating Cy like a four-legged fuzzy child and expecting him to have the intelligence level of one as well.

frédéric "freddie" lavoie | original character

[faa]

[ open starters nested below! no plotting comment because it's been a busy month, but feel free to shoot me a pm/ping me on discord @ redmaresociety/shoot me a PP (bluehellgazette) to plot! ]

i.

[faa]

I. WIND SHAKES THE PALM TREES WITH AN ESCALATING FURY
crossroads elegy ii — before the storm. cws: mentions of internalized fatphobia, diabetes stigma, nongraphic physical consequences of prolonged bulimia.

[ It's about as basic a human instinct as there is, the urge that the dire warnings stir up within him: hunker down. In many cases, that's what gets people killed—they listen to instinct, not reason as espoused by the modern science of meteorology, and don't evacuate: fires, floods, hurricanes. In this case, though, there is no option to evacuate, and even if there was, this is the sort of storm that Freddie, a New Yorker, knows. It's a heavy Nor'easter, hundreds of miles out-of-place. He's confident in his ability to ride it out—and, more importantly, the structural stability and endurance of the shelter he'd chosen for himself shortly after arrival.

The cabin isn't really a cabin or lodge so much as it is a very small house, something more reminiscent of the style of the same nation's historical homes on the other side of the Hudson Bay: it looks like the old Québécois fieldstones, and maybe that's why Freddie had chosen it over the other, similarly intact homes still available to him. Stone walls like this last centuries. They weather storms.

Preparing for him largely means acquiring: firewood, food, dog food. And, possibly, a ladder—between his weight and the high center of gravity that comes with being tall, Freddie knows he's not the kind of guy who should be going up a wooden ladder that's god knows how old, but if they really do get more than a foot of snow, he's going to have to go up there anyway and hope for the best so that he can shovel off the compounding weight of wet snow on the overhang of tin roofing above the porch.

So he finds himself going from person to person and asking for help—when he's not offering it himself. ]

↳ Option A.

[ Freddie stops people who look like they're moving with purpose when he finds them—because if someone is walking very deliberately in some direction right before a storm, they're probably going to get something they need to prepare, and that means that they know where things are. He's been here a few months, and he has a pretty good idea of the lay of the land, but he's also able to recognize that most of the people here have been present far longer, still know things he doesn't. ]

Hey—excuse me. Do you know where I could find dog food? If there's any still left. [ The second part is more embarrassing to ask, because he knows they're undoubtedly thinking the same thing that he does when he considers the prospect, i.e., that it's kind of hard to picture someone like him deftly climbing anything. But his concern about property damage wins out over the self-consciousness that has, by this point, become quite familiar. ] Or a ladder.

↳ Option B.

[ Once he's acquired the things he needs and stashed them away at base camp, and once he's chopped as much wood as he can before needing a break—an embarrassingly meager amount, because after a few logs his heart had started to pound so heavy and irregular and his breath had come so short that he'd had to stop for fear of inducing some sort of... cardiac event nobody here has the equipment or technology to treat—Freddie heads back out, stopping the people he encounters. ]

You all set for the storm? Have everything you need, need any help getting things together?

Levi Ackerman // Attack On Titan

[wingbound]

--1. THE AURORA: CROSSROADS ELEGY PT. 2

[ The storm warning catches Levi near Milton. Similar to last time, he decides to weather it in the Community Hall, and spends the remaining hours of (mostly) tolerable weather gathering more firewood. ]

[ The hail comes in soon after. ]

[ Maybe he managed to make it back to the Community Hall -- or maybe he'd miscalculted how much time he had and had to hole up in the closest available shelter. Either way, as the drum of ice clumps grows ever louder and someone else bursts in through the door, he's standing up in alarm, which turns into concern as soon as he sees blood. ]

Hey. Easy. Sit down. [ He's seen enough people who have fallen off a horse or had gotten kicked to have some idea about head injuries, though he's by no stretch of imagination a medic. But he is what you've got at the moment. ] Do you feel dizzy? Blurry vision?


--2. WINTER’S CURSE

a) [ It's... something like community service, really. It's different this time, as in it's not really cold weather they need to shelter from, but some sort of curse from within. But now that Levi runs warmer than strictly normal himself, he wants to pay forward the kindness shown to him by others before. He's not much of a hugger, but if he sees someone curled up at the Community Hall -- or anywhere else he might come across, really -- looking like a cornered animal, he's going to reluctantly approach them and wordlessly offer his hands, palms up, as if encouraging the affected person to place theirs on top. ]

...


b) [ Alternatively, he's willing to help someone reach the hot springs if needed. Not because it's a particularly difficult hike, but because anyone affected by the strange feral illness would likely feel more and more resistant to the idea of taking a plunge in warm water the closer they got to their destination. Levi doesn't look too imposing at first glance, but he's strong enough to keep most people who weren't military-trained from turning around and running the opposite way. ]

[ Which is exactly why he's heading this mini-expedition. ]

...and that's that. If you leave with me now, I'll take it as your request to dunk you in the damn thing even if you think you've changed your mind later. And I intend to honor it. Any other questions?


--3. BONES IN THE OCEAN

a) [ Sometime at the end of the month he'll find himself at the coast, and naturally he'll volunteer to any ongoing effort to scout the ship, because that's something new, and it could be their way out. ]

[ What he hopes to find most is some sort of a log or journal or even newspapers -- anything giving a hint about where the ship came from or what's going on in the rest of the world -- but he can't say he's disappointed when he and whoever's exploring with him at the moment run into a cabinet full of food cans. He immediately takes one to inspect it. ]

Think it's still good?


b) [ He's... somewhat familiar with the concept of ghosts, but he's always been a sceptic. It's a tale for kids scared of the dark, not ones hiding in it that knows all the harm they've experienced so far have come from other humans. ]

[ So the first thing he feels when the specter rises before them is confusion -- and, of course, the ever-present alert: danger. A moment later, a heavy bowl flies toward them, and he's pushing or tugging his companion out of the way, even while his eyes are still set on the spot the ghostly sailor was in a moment ago. ]

What the hell was that?!


--4. WILDCARD

[ Surprise me with a different scenario, or plot with me here! ]

1! lemme know if this is okay c:

[shewhograspsthesky]

[She's gingerly holding her head, carefully tapping at the wound to glance at the blood on her finger tips. She's less alarmed to see Levi and instead, perhaps, relieved.

She thought she had more time, that she could sprint her way home before it got too bad. Snow, fine. But rocks of ice? Much less than fine. Even in this abandoned house on the edge of town, how long would the skeleton last in this weather?

But wait, he's asking her questions. She shakes her head only to end in a wince.]

Just hurts, I'm fine.

[A pause.]

What are you doing here?

Raylan Givens | Justified

[tinstar]

[I'm OTA! If a starter doesn't work or you have a question, hit me up on plurk or discord. Plotting Comment]

☼ Crossroads Part 2

It was a rare thing, but something that Milton had seen before - Raylan actually heeding the warnings of the powers that be. Methusalah was included in that by default - the benevolent old man that welcomed and cared for them in the best way he could - and he had no reason to doubt anything the man said. Enola wasn't quite so trusted, however much his heart went out to her, twisting at her pains like a lover who couldn't help a single bit. Still, the dark roiling clouds promised trouble and this place never failed to deliver.

He prepares with everyone else despite the dark look on his face that matched the thunderheads on the horizon, securing down the windows and the boards nailed in over them, working with Tim to bring extra firewood and dried meats. After the last aggressive freeze, the Marshal's attempts to fortify the building have increased and while he'll explain what he's doing if someone asks, his expression doesn't seem to invite much of any conversation. Enough so that when the storm actually starts, Raylan isn't even there.

Storm - on the way back to the community hall
The storm would start any minute and he knew that, but he also knew that he wanted a goddamn bottle of whiskey. One that didn't have too much in it; he wasn't keen to share and his flask could only hold so much, and it didn't matter that he had gone back for it. What was the point of being strong and resilient if you didn't get to test it against.. well not God, though some would call the weather that. It starts coming down as he heads back towards the Community Hall and he swears out loud at it as some smaller hailstones strike his hunched shoulders, tugging his wool jacket collar higher against his Stetson as he glances around.

"IF ANYONE'S OUT HERE, Y'ALL MIGHT WANNA GET INSIDE OR COME WITH ME TO THE COMMUNITY HALL." His drawl was almost charming when he spoke, honeyed and smooth, but when he yelled, it all got heavier and much more East Kentucky than he particularly liked.

Storm - in the Community hall
Once the storm was in full swing, Raylan stays in the Community Hall, alternating between pacing, peering out the purposeful spaces left on the outer window's boarding, or sat hunched over with his elbows on his knees looking a little strange in his proportions until he stands again. But he keeps his hands busy when he's sitting at least; further away from the fire than he normally sits with a whittling knife and a block of wood in his hands and keeping himself close to Tim. Little peels collect around his boots and instead of keeping him company, Goose has opted to stay nearer Tim than him, though that wasn't too terribly far. He doesn't blame the wolf. He wouldn't have blamed Tim either, if the man got up and relocated.

When he sees feet walk up and stop from under the brim of his hat, he'll pause and breathe in before muttering, "It's a fuckin' duck. Before you ask." Someone was in no good mood and doesn't so much as bother to look and see who it might be.

☼ Winters curse

It started small. That goddamned dream had shaken him for a week before he fully forgot about it, but then he stopped eating as much at home. Smaller portions leading to claims that he ate earlier and consuming nothing at all. Sitting further away from the fire and avoiding a house and hearth all together when food was cooking. He felt dirty with it; the hasty and ugly kills he'd been allowing himself in the forest. The fact that it had happened while he was on two legs more than once. The rise in his short temper wasn't even attributed to the dream, but regardless, Raylan continues to try and shield Tim and anyone else he meets from it, even as he feels his control over it slipping more and more.

Mid-End of Month; CW - NPC Death
After the storm, Raylan isolates more. Frequent trips around Milton turn into rare sightings and those with sharp eyes will be able to see that his normally dark hair is lightening, eyebrows and all. His clothes seem a little short at the wrist and ankles. He looks different. Feels different. His easy amble becomes more of a menacing stalk and he's quick to avoid people - known or otherwise. Believe it or not, he really was trying. Trying to stop these changes, the bumps that start to grow out that he hides under his hat, the urge of primal instinct to lash out at creatures that get too close. Ask the wrong questions.

By the last two weeks, it didn't even take wrong questions.

Closed to Bigby but anyone is welcome to see it

"Darkwalker take you." He was sure that's what the young man had said as he passes by. He was sure. 'Trying' was suddenly a sick joke; Raylan's already fast hands were faster as he lunges after the man. The kid starts to scramble away, but Raylan is quicker, snapping him up with one hand around his throat. Raylan snarls as his fingernails start to dent and dig into the suddenly panicking youth.

He didn't see a kid, or a man, or even a human. All Raylan Givens (if he could even be called that) saw right now was a meal.

☼ Wildcard

[Find Raylan anywhere in between! He's open to Pre-Event things too - I was going to have him graveyard wandering and at the hot springs, but I just can't write another opener.]

Community Hall - during storm

[comfortablyerect]

It suffices to say that Tim is not the most well versed in relationships, by the simple virtue of his most significant one being the one he's in now. But he is pretty damn well versed in Raylan Givens, and there's something off.

Of course, seeing as his own emotions and their roots often remain one big question mark to himself, he can't quite decipher what the issue is. Initially he thought Raylan was just having a particularly shitty day for reasons too arbitrary to mention, but then that day turned into days, and those days have continued with no improvement to his partner's mood.

If anything, it's getting worse. Tim hasn't addressed it directly since the first couple of days when he asked Raylan if he was good and received generic answers. He's also chosen not to tell Raylan about the results of his latest dream with Enola yet. In part because they've been busy preparing for the storm since, and now, with a few dozen other people with them in the Community Hall, doesn't seem like a good time when he's not sure how the news is going to be taken.

He only feels more sure in that decision when someone -- he doesn't look up in time to see who -- stops in front of them before deciding Raylan's grumbling is more than enough of a warning for them, and departs as quickly as they arrived. Tim's been sitting in the chair beside Raylan, one hand idly flipping the pages of the book in his lap, the other hanging off the side to rest on Goose's back. It hasn't gone unnoticed by him that even the wolf seems to be avoiding his human.

At least he knows it's not just him, and there is a little relief in that. Still, he closes the book in his lap and looks at his partner.

"Do you need to go in time out or somethin'?" Hopefully nobody expected him to be gentle about it. "Is this hail storm just really rubbin' you the wrong way?"

Cornelius Hickey | The Terror | ota!

[friendsfordinner]

bones in the ocean
Creepy abandoned ship stuck in the ice, crew mysteriously vanished, just like home. Hickey is well aware that somebody ten years or so from his time is going to come across Terror's lifeless floating corpse (because even though a group of men stayed behind on her, they're goners. Hickey knows it, they'll die just as well themselves.). And when they come upon her corpse, they're going to be doing exactly what he's doing: rifling around and stealing shit.

Initially, he can be found in the kitchen, rifling around and searching for canned goods. Frankly, he's still a little hesitant about the cans, but there's enough variety in his diet that even if these cans are tainted, it shouldn't outright kill him. Hopefully. He's stashed a few cans in a backpack he's wearing already, but Hickey knows he'll come back for more later. Later, he can be found in the captain's quarters, studying various maps. The captain's hat is perched on his head—his hat now, this is coming back with him. Those maps also will get stashed in his backpack.

But it's later, when Hickey's on the ship, when he's prowling around in the corridors looking for more things, that his general attitude of 'excited and interested' shifts to one of 'outright annoyed' as a ghost manifests down the hallway. There's a grumble and a "You're joking," as Hickey stares down a dead sailor...who looks about two seconds away from beaning Hickey in the head with anything not tied down.

wildcard
( hmu or drop me a starter if you want something different! )

captain’s quarters

[desperate_times_right]

Chloe leans over Hickey’s shoulder to peer at the maps. She has to suppress a laugh at the hat, it reminds her so much of Sam.

“Anything good, captain?”

Chloe Frazer | Uncharted

[desperate_times_right]

[Starters will be posted below. I will match either prose or brackets. Feel free to wildcard under this comment (though please note that I am not interested in playing with this month's curse prompt), or contact me via plurk at nonhoration or discord at nonhoration with ideas.]

OTA

[desperate_times_right]

Elegy Part 2

Once again, a storm is coming. Sometimes Chloe feels like all she's doing lately is boarding up and unboarding her greenhouse. The strength that she'd derived from having indulged her Darkwalker curse during that horrible night two months ago has fully faded by now, but fortunately the sun sets early these days and a lot of others in this little settlement are willing to help her.

She's up on the greenhouse roof, nailing a board down, when she turns to the person next to her.

"Thanks for helping me with this. 'Tis the season, I guess."

The Road to Silverpoint

Once the storm has passed and the greenhouse has been set to rights, Chloe wraps negotiations with the people who help her out with the plants then packs up for the trek to Silverpoint.

It's exciting - apart from a daytrip to Lakeside during the last unnatural night Chloe hasn't left Milton in months - and the skip in her step as she makes her way to the hydrodam and beyond isn't just her showing off her Free Runner surefootedness.

She's so pleased that her habitual wariness toward interlopers she doesn't know well doesn't keep her from greeting other travellers on the road.

"Hey. Heading to the coast too, huh? Been there before?"

Bones in the Ocean

As weird as it might sound, Chloe is delighted to be doing something normal. Crawling around in precarious ruins is her bread and butter back home, after all. She's always been wiry and now supernatural metabolism and months of near-starvation have robbed her of most of her curves, so crawling through little passages and exploring ductwork are kind of her thing.

Ghosts, however, aren't, so she's still surprised when, after dropping down through the ceiling into a storage room, a chain surges forward and grabs her by the ankle.

"What the fuck? I need a little help here!"

Randvi | Assassin's Creed

[meadqueen]

[Starters will be posted below. I will match either prose or brackets. Feel free to wildcard under this comment (though please note that I am not interested in playing with this month's curse prompt), or contact me via plurk at nonhoration or discord at nonhoration with ideas.]

OTA

[meadqueen]

Elegy Part 2

Randvi had hit the road early this month to try and get as much time as possible in Silverpoint, which means she's already in Lakeside by the time the warning comes.

She manages to make it to the waystation before the hail becomes truly dangerous, though it's a near thing. She's still a novice with her radio, but manages to send out a message to all interlopers.

IF YOU ARE ON THE FAR SIDE OF THE HYDRODAM AND NEED SHELTER THE GAS STATION IS HOLDING.

Bones in the Ocean

Randvi does make it to Silverpoint with only superficial injuries, and quickly becomes fascinated with the shipwreck that Jace has found.

"Do you think it was thrown here during the storm? Are all ships from the future this large and somehow still cramped?"

Edward Little | The Terror

[fidior]

CLOSED STARTERS

⚓ — PLOTTING POST

— Maelle (Clair Obscur: Expedition 33 spoilers in this thread!)

[fidior]

[ Having weathered every storm in this place since his arrival over two years ago (and several storms while trapped out on the ice before), Little has established something of a routine with the experience. And yet, he also knows that each one has been different in their ways. One can never prepare enough.

He rushes about the town like he has in the past, helping wherever he can. Boarding up shops and cabins, stocking the community center with logs and blankets, hoisting supplies around town as needed. But there isn't enough time to make everything as safe as he wishes, and his chest is tight with unpleasant adrenaline and dread as he rushes through the streets one final time on his way to the saloon. The sky's become so dark, and above, thunder rolls ominously. The storm's ready to burst. The temperature's dropped even more in the past few minutes, and his breath is a puff of visible fog as he moves.

The only positive thing about this looming darkness is that his cursed spirit thrives in it, in a particular way. The darker it becomes, the better he feels. Energy restored and perhaps even enhanced, senses in peak capacity. He can hear, smell, see better than he ever has before. He can practically see in the dark, like any predator.

He spots a flicker of movement up ahead on the eerily abandoned, empty roads and startles as he begins to head that way. Someone is still... out here? ]

Hello?! [ He calls loudly, lifting a gloved hand to flag the person down. ]

william gibson | the terror

[notarat]

(a. winter's curse - early on)

[ Usually Billy is very much the type to keep to himself - and that does seem like what he's doing today as well, at least initially. You may be anywhere around town where he also happens to be: out on the streets, in the community hall-- anywhere. Doing your own thing. Billy seems to be doing his own thing as well, not even seeming to turn his attention towards you..

.. until you do something. It can be any small thing at all, really. Maybe you accidentally drop something. Maybe you start whistling. Something small that shouldn't really bother anyone, and yet it draws Billy's attention, the man frowning as he turns his head to look at you, snapping-- ]

Do you have to do that? [ The words don't even carry the usual relatively neutral tone Billy has. It's full on hostile, and the gaze that's sent your way is carrying the exact same sentiment. ]

(b. winter's curse - later on - cw: partial monster transformation & animal death/gore)

[ The man being more snappy than usual is not the only strange thing happening as time goes on. If you spot Billy around town, he almost seems even taller than usually - if that's at all possible, considering he's already a skeletal giraffe on a good day. It makes him pretty difficult to miss, actually.

It makes him hard to miss when you might find him near the edges of town - hunched over something on the ground, but tall enough that his shape is immediately visible from a distance. If you approach, you may notice that his hair is looking weirdly white around his temples and parts of his beard, though the rest of it is still its usual shade. The thing Billy seems hunched over is a rabbit - but one that's been completely torn to pieces by Billy's-- fingers? No, when you get close enough, those definitely look too sharp to be fingers, they're more like very long nails or claws, covered in the rabbit's blood and flesh.

He seems to be right in the middle of shoveling a piece of raw rabbit meat into his mouth when he hears you. Billy's head snaps in your direction, a strange glow to his eyes as he stares at you. ]

What do you want?

[ You know, as if what he is doing is completely normal, and you're a weirdo for interrupting him. Clearly. Totally. ]

winter's curse, later on

[friendsfordinner]

[ Hickey's not an idiot. He knows that something's up with his husband, that something's wrong. But it takes him a while to actually listen to Methusalah in order to get a little idea of what's going on. Hickey mentally curses the old man to hell and back as he talks—oh, now you tell everybody about the potential to become a horrible frost monster? After it's already happening??? But he listens and takes it in.

Idly, Hickey wishes that the solution was a bit easier than 'show compassion' or 'warm somebody up,' especially since there's a nonzero chance that Billy would react to Hickey trying to force him to go to the hot springs by setting Hickey on fire. Compassion it is.

Which...still might be a problem.

There's no judgement on eating the raw rabbit meat. Those claws, that hair? That's judgement. Or at least, concern. Because though he doesn't want to admit it, Hickey really doesn't want his husband to turn into some horrible winter wight. ]

Wanted to see if you'd share, [ Hickey casually responds, as if this is a normal conversation. ] Or if you wanted something to wash it down. Got some of that pine wine back at ours—terrible, but it gets the job done.

snow white | the wolf among us

[powersuited]

[ open and closed starters to follow — hmu @ favoritings or DW PM if you're interested in something! ]

bigby, time for kids talk;

[powersuited]

Now may not be the best moment for Snow to broach this particular topic of conversation between them while everyone is making preparations for the next storm to hit, but no one's ever accused her of having perfect timing.

There are other things she has to concern herself with before seizing the right opportunity to talk to Bigby about... their family, but the thought tumbles through her head even while she's at the Community Hall checking in on new arrivals, confirming that everyone there has a safe and warm place to bed down, or stocking up what little she and Bigby need to wait out the storm.

At least they also have the assurance that Connor is back and safe — and there was no question, really, that their son would be staying with them again — but Snow's also extended a few other invitations, in case any Interlopers want to crash at their house instead.

The temperature has already started to drop the night before the storm hits, heralding what's coming, but inside, Snow and Bigby are nice and toasty, sitting in front of the fire. No doubt Bigby suspects that the furrow of concern in her brow is related to what's coming, but he might be more surprised by what she chooses to bring up between them.

"So... did you know that we have more than one kid together? In the future?"