singillatim | nature offers a violence

nature offers a violence

NOVEMBER 2023 EVENT

PROMPT ONE — WHITEOUT: Methuselah makes an unexpected early return to Milton to warn Interlopers of an impending monster storm, and boy does it surely come.

PROMPT TWO — A CHOICE: Following the storm, sightings of a mysterious stag prompts a hunt down in the Basin and out in the Outskirts.

PROMPT THREE — REST MY WEARY BONES: While the storm causes a great deal of mess, it also uncovers some far more pleasant surprises. Hot springs.

WHITEOUT

WHEN: Early to mid-month.
WHERE: Milton.
CONTENT WARNINGS: extreme weather; storms; blizzards; themes of survival; possible character cold-related injuries; possible themes of peril.

In the times that he is no longer occupying the Community Hall in the center of town to help tend to the newcomers, Methuselah is out in the wilds. Despite his growing age, he is a hardened survivor, and has been more than accustomed to life living as a nomad, out in the thickest, deepest parts of nature. Sometimes he can be encountered, sheltered in a cave or out in the woods, huddled by a warm campfire, or busying himself with his latest game catch. He seems to be always on the move, never staying for too long, and never coming into town — unless it’s to begin preparations for the latest batch of new arrivals.

To see him returning to Milton outside of these times is a curious sight, and the grim expression he carries is enough to make anyone wary. Even his voice is grave. The warmth and kindness usually found in his expression is gone, replaced with a deathly seriousness. He doesn’t speak in jest.

"I am long used to this world and its weather, even with the changing times to more bitter nights." he will say. "I have seen the years rise and fall, too many to count. Please, I beg that you hear me with this— a storm is coming. Greater than some of you may have ever known. It is in the air, and we must prepare to see it through. We do not have much time. Three days, perhaps. But no more."

He will tell anyone and everyone; encouraging the word to be spread around. He will instruct on what needs to be done, what needs to be gathered. The storm will be long and hard, and will last for some time. With that, Methuselah will begin to prepare the Community Hall as a place of refuge with a stock of food, fuel and water to get through the storm. Interlopers will be free to join Methuselah and bunker down together, or can choose to bunker down on their own in their own homes, or with others.

You have only three days.

And sure enough, the storm comes. Maybe you can notice the signs too: the sudden updraft, the slow gathering of clouds, the drop in temperature, the changes of pressure in the air.

Halfway through the third day, the storm rolls in: a ferocious snow-storm unlike anything you’ve seen before. Even with the fading amount of daylight as mid-winter approaches, the sky turns as dark as night as will stay like night for the duration. Strong howling winds batter the town, and even the sturdiest of buildings creak and groan under the weight. Trees will be felled, some buildings might not fare the storm.

Relentless snow that falls so hard it’s a complete whiteout, and will be impossible to navigate if one were to step outside. Even then, it isn’t advisable. The temperature is bitter, with a frigid windchill. Going out in this kind of storm would be a death sentence. Staying out in it for longer than a half-hour will certainly kill you.

It would be best to wait it out, to huddle around warm fires in the darkness. It may certainly be a test of patience, depending on your choice of place to stay. The storm will last a full week, a stark reminder of what you are, the words you have heard in your arrival: thrown to Mother Nature’s mercy, the Interloper in her design.

But will you persist?

A CHOICE

WHEN: Mid-month, onwards to end of month.
WHERE: Milton Basin, Milton Outskirts.
CONTENT WARNINGS: survival themes; themes of hunting; possible animal death.

After the storm passes, there’s a certain kind of hush that falls upon Milton and its surrounding areas as Interlopers are left to pick through the wake. While the temperature certainly doesn’t get that much warmer, there’s days and nights of clear, calm weather — short afternoons of weak sunshine and nights of chilly peace, the moon hung high in the starry skies. Winter is drawing ever-closer, but it’s still for a little while.

In the early evenings, before the sun sets, there’s strange sightings of a particular white stag that can be found roaming the area — particularly down in the Milton Basin. It seems quite elusive, but there’s plenty of Interlopers that have been able to capture a glimpse over the coming days. Even Methuselah himself has seen this beast before, remarking there has long been tall tales of a ghostly stag that roams the Northern Territories and is said to bring good fortune to those who manage to hunt it down.

Perhaps you’re a little low on luck. Perhaps you’re feeling lucky. You’re going to find that stag.

Hunting down the stag, however, will take a great deal of patience and time. You might find yourself waiting several hours to wait for it to appear. Building a snow shelter, or hunkering down in some old shack might be needed in order to keep warm. But if you’re patient enough, and able to withstand the cold for long enough — the beast will soon make an appearance.

In the dying light of the day, it is there. It’s unlike any deer you’ve seen before: tall and majestic, with thick, soft fur of brilliant white. It almost looks ghost-like in some angles, it’s an incredibly beautiful creature. But it seems to have also noticed you, just as you have noticed it. It doesn’t dart away, however. Instead it stands before you, waiting for you to act.

You have a choice: slay the creature, or let it go.

It will not move until you make your decision, holding your gaze until you raise your weapon or until you lower it and give up your hunt. But there is a consequence to either action: if you choose to kill the stag, you will be rewarded with a sizeable bounty of venison. Eating said meat will help you feel fuller for longer, and the meat will keep for far longer than any other deer slain.

However, if you choose to spare the stag, the creature will lower its head, as if bowing to you. Then, it will disappear with a swirling of powdered snow. When you return home for the evening and go to sleep, the next morning you will find a gift at the foot of your bed: a pair of deerskin boots, or a deerskin blanket. These boots are supple, tough and waterproof — allowing for a great balance of mobility and warmth. The blanket is incredibly toasty, and will provide a great deal of comfort in the long nights ahead.

REST MY WEARY BONES

WHEN: Mid-month, onwards indefinitely.
WHERE: Milton Outskirts.
CONTENT WARNINGS: n/a.

The storm has blown in plenty of snow to make traversing the area much more difficult, but there’s something else of note that comes with its passing. While the storm has brought much devastation, and some places have been buried in snow drifts, plenty of snow in areas has been blown away, uncovering otherwise lost secrets within Milton. Clouds of what looks like steam can be noted not too far from town, towards the mountains of the north.

If Interlopers head to explore the clouds, they will find old trails leading up towards the mountains. It isn’t a particularly difficult journey, for once, and they will soon discover that the storm has blown away the previously blocked access to a cave. It appears that this is the right place.

The air is warm here, pleasantly so. Warm enough that hats and mittens and coats seem a little unnecessary. One might wonder if someone lives within, and that a great fire is stoked to keep the place warm. But there’s no one in sight, no sounds of life: human, animal or otherwise. If they press on, they will discover that the cave floor is well worn with footfall: plenty of people have come here before, and the reason why is soon revealed.

The air grows even warmer, and more humid. The space opening to reveal small pools of slow-flowing water, warm water. The stone houses a natural hot spring, and following the cave out the other side will lead to another space in the rock open to the air, where there are even larger pools of warm water, perfectly sized and deep enough to bathe in. It seems that this place was frequently used by the people of Milton, where their life of hardship could be forgotten for an hour or two.

The water is pleasantly hot, and incredibly inviting. After so long in the freezing cold without modern appliances and utilities, a natural hot spring sounds like an absolute luxury.

FAQs

WHITEOUT

1. Characters are free to play around with this prompt how they want. Maybe they're dumb enough to go into the cold and get injured or sick. Maybe they're stuck in the Community Hall for the week. Fights might break out as tensions run high whilst everyone's stuck together, or maybe you're actually having a nice time.

2. For those stuck in the Community Hall: there are board games and old school textbooks stored in cupboards. There is also a piano.

3. A floorplan of the Community Hall can be found here.

A CHOICE

1. .... Yes, you can pet the ghost stag.

2. Characters will get one choice only with the ghost stag, meaning they can't keep going back to find it to get extra gifts.

3. If characters can't agree on a course of action, whoever acts first will get their gift. The second character will have a chance to try again another time.

4. If both characters agree on sparing the stag, but players want different gifts (ie. one player wants the boots and one wants the blanket), characters will get the gift the player wants their character to receive.

REST MY WEARY BONES

1. The hot springs will now be a permanent fixture in the Milton Area, enjoy!

PLOTTING POST

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

[ A trick of the wind is the only thing that lets his yell break through her reverie; Wynonna jerks her head up, looking over, and starts struggling her way through the storm and piling snow toward the square of light she can see blinking through the gusts of snow. She comes stumbling in, bringing drifting snow and the scent of the cold wind with her; her hair is covered in snow and her lashes are frozen. When she blinks, she sees prisms of light dancing.

As soon as he closes the door – and she hasn't even registered who had called out, who it was holding the door open for her – she falls back against the wall of the cabin, breathing deep, trying very hard not to think about how close she probably just came to dying. She definitely can't die, not here, not when Waverly wouldn't be able to get a hold of Peacemaker.

Finally, she cracks an eye open – and frowns. ]

Holland?

[ In a rare moment of thoughtfulness, Holland is already throwing a rather large blanket immediately over Wynonna's shoulders. It's not very well done and it's hasty, so the blanket's a little bunched up, but hey, it's a start. ]

Yeah, Holland. Are you insane?

[ He knows the answer is yes. That's not the point. March is grabbing another bit of wood to add it to the fire and already pulling a rocking chair that came with the house up close to it. ]

Jesus Christ.

Are you?

[ Tossed back with a hefty dose of fuck-you energy even as she's tugging the blanket around her shoulders and coming close to the fire. ]

What the hell are you doing out here alone?

[ She's always believed the best defense is a good offense! ]

I live here.

[ That's much easier to say than 'there is a basement where Huaisang and I have stashed all of the alcohol we could find--which is now almost empty--and also the vast majority of the town thinks I'm irritating and I don't want to deal with that shit right now.' Best to just say he lives here. Which he doesn't even technically do, he lives with Barbie and Ken, but it's not exactly a lie since he hangs out here so often. ]

You got frostbite? You gonna die? 'Cause I can't chop off any toes.

Like I'd let you anywhere near my toes.

[ She's not gonna die. Her fingers and toes are tingling painfully, and her face is chapped all to hell, and she can't stop shivering, but she's not going to die. Taken out by a blizzard? Absolutely the hell not. When she finally goes, she wants tequila and strippers to be involved.

Standing in front of the fire, she stamps her feet and rubs at her hands, forgoing the rocking chair for the moment as she tries to force her sluggish blood back around her body. ]

Have you been here this whole time by yourself?

Yeah.

[ And no. He's got Holly with him, her picture actually on the mantle since the Aurora was nice enough to spit him into the snow with it, but that's entirely too sentimental and right now he's trying to figure out what, exactly, to do. Wynonna's a big girl and capable of getting her own things if she's too cold, but he feels like he needs to do something.

He's not worried or anything. That's ridiculous. It's so ridiculous he awkwardly puts his hands on his hips. ]

It's where I keep all the alcohol. [ Why wouldn't he be here? ]

[ Wynonna turns and stares at him, mouth open, brows furrowed, the very picture of excuse me, what? ]

You have booze? And you're not sharing?

[ Very suddenly, there is nothing she wants so much in this world, her own, or any other than a drink. Whiskey, ideally, but she'd settle for just about anything. ]

Where is it? What is it? How much do you have?

[ Probably he shouldn't have said that. He's been pretty careful about his alcohol since Huaisang left. But it's Wynonna, and he's a sucker for a pretty face, and--oh, okay.

He clearly should have said something before now. March leans back like Wynonna is about to launch herself onto him and start punching despite her only giving a Look. He raises both hands to show he's unarmed. ]

It's not a lot left! And I'm trying to figure out how to make more, okay? For the good of the community.

[ It's a little vindicating, seeing the way he cringes back from her. She's shivering way too hard to be able to hit him right now with any degree of accuracy, but he doesn't need to know that. Instead, she gets up into his face, letting go of the blanket so she can grip his shirt with both hands and give him a little shake. ]

Have you figured it out?

[ There's more than a little desperation in her voice. Yeah, she's been in the slammer enough times that she's got a reasonably solid toilet wine recipe under her belt, but where would they possibly find apples and fruit cocktail? ]

Tell me you've figured it out!

Edited 2023-12-06 23:14 (UTC)

[ March, in turn, completely ragdolls. There are worst things than letting a very cold pretty lady shake you around like you're the last chip in a pringles can. ]

If you stop shaking me I might be able to tell you.

[ She releases him, but not without a shove to push him back a step or two while she reaches for the blanket draped around her shoulders and tugs it tight around herself again. ]

So tell me.

[ She's spent the last few days teaching poker to people who have no idea how to play. She fucked up and got into it with someone in the Community Hall. She almost froze to death, and probably would have without Little's intervention. She needs a fucking drink. ]

Well?

Thank you.

[ Should March push it? Probably not. Does March push it? ]

I'll do you one better. I'll show you. I just I need help with it.

[ No way he can do this all on his own. And maybe it's an excuse to see Wynonna a little more: he smooths down his clothing, and for good measure peers into the nearest reflective surface to make sure his hair is fine. ]

What kind of help?

[ She's starting to warm up, but she's still shivering, the blanket still tugged around her shoulders. ]

I'm a lot better with drinking than I am with making, but: desperate times.

[ He runs a hand down his shirt and glances away. She follows that look, but finds nothing aside from a window near the fireplace. That catches her attention, though – there's a photo up on the mantle of a girl, maybe in her early teens? Unlike a lot of the other personal items she's found scattered around the abandoned homes, fallen over with no one around to care enough to put them back up again, this photo looks like it was put up there deliberately. ]

Who's the kid?

[ March nods solemnly. Him, too, Wynonna. Big fan of drinking it instead of having to make it. ] Desperate times.

[ He's about to say something else--show Wynonna the basement where he's got what little he's stocked up dwindling and just a dash of the hopeful start of booze that might just give them botulism--but brunette notices Holly, and suddenly that doesn't really seem all that important. ]

Oh. [ March comes up behind her somewhat, following her gaze. There's a distinct lack of apathy in his voice now, replaced instead with a smidge of fondness. ] You know how we all got things from home? That's my daughter.

You have a daughter?

[ Why's she so surprised? He's definitely older than she is, and lots of people have kids. He wouldn't be the first questionable DILF she's been attracted to.

Wynonna tugs the blanket a little more securely around her shoulders and looks more closely at the photo. ]

What's her name?

Holly. I wanted a Holland Jr, but, y'know.

[ He misses her. A lot. Enough that after he glances at the picture he purposefully turns away, a strange surge of something in the pit of his stomach. Whatever it is--guilt, maybe, who knows--he finds himself temporarily unable to look Wynonna in the eye. ]

She's great. Smart as hell. [ March clears his throat, and decides to resolve the fact that he can't seem to look at Wynonna fully with the one solution he understands intrinsically. ]

Still got a bottle of whisky left.

[ 'You want some if we're gonna talk talk and not just riff?' ]

...and that officially makes you my favorite person here. Congratulations.

[ Whiskey sounds great. She would much rather drink than sit here and think about storming out of the community center, about Little risking himself to come out after her.

She gives the photo another glance -- nice that he got a normal photo of his family -- and ignores with the ease of long practice the black and white photograph in her own pocket, the one with six red x's scrawled across it. ]

C'mon, bust it out. I'm freezing my ass off, here.

[ March shoots her a wink and a smile at being called someone's favourite--jokes or not, it's nice to feel a bit warm and fuzzy--and he disappears for a moment. When he reappears, it's with a dusty bottle and he's making a beeline to grab some glasses. ]

You know patience is a virtue, right?

[ Neither of them have that. March pours. ]

You've been laboring under some serious misapprehensions if you think I'm a girl who prioritizes virtue. At all.

[ Look at that golden goodness flowing into the glass. She barely manages to refrain from snatching it before he offers it over to her, but her impatience is thrumming through her system and it's written clearly across her face. ]

[ March can't even snipe out a sarcastic 'you're welcome,' not with a line like that thrown his way so quickly. He recovers from his momentary dumbfoundedness after a second. ]

Have I told you you're my favourite? [ he's surprised by the sincerity. ] If we can actually figure out how to make more of this shit, you're gonna get elevated to Goddess. C'mon, let me show you the basement. [ A beat. ]

It's not creepy.

Edited 2024-01-04 00:25 (UTC)

Yeah, that's convincing.

[ But the whiskey mollifies her, and she sips at it as she follows March through the house. It's probably fine, and if it isn't, she's reasonably sure she could take him in a fight. ]

What the hell. It's gotta be better than going back out in that storm.

Which you're crazy for.

[ March isn't worried or anything. Hardly. Wynonna's a big girl--except yeah, he is worried, just a little. Or a lot. Whatever.

It's not a big deal. What is a big deal is that in the dim light that does manage to flicker into the basement is what is the very, very beginnings of pine wine. Mostly jars and a lot of empty booze bottles. ]

We can do something with this, right? For beer.

Oh, I'm crazy for lots of reasons. Got the paperwork to prove it.

[ She comes down the last few stairs and picks her way among the bottles and jars, sniffing the air. Certainly smells like fermentation – and pine, for some reason. ]

I don't know about beer, but you've definitely got the beginnings of a terrible moonshine business doing, Bo Duke.

[ Who the fuck is Bo Duke-- ]

I've been mostly guessing since Huaisang left. But I figure with you, with me, with our brains and incredible good looks....

[ A single brow raises, hand up to potentially clink their glasses together. ]

Whadaya say?

Well, my good looks, anyway.

[ She clinks her glass against his, then lifts her free hand to poke him in the chest. ]

You look like a chainsmoking habit asked the Good Fairy if it could be a real boy.

Edited 2024-01-10 21:05 (UTC)

nature offers a violence

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

(no subject)

(no subject)

/end