prelude

[singmod]

January 1st 2015

Do you remember yesterday? What is tomorrow?
How will you face this quiet apocalypse?
— Raphael van Lierop.

As the old year falls and the new year begins, the skies fill with light. An Aurora comes on the last day of December, and with it the usual signs of it: the ethereal noise, the cracks and pops in the air, the stuttering of electrics as they struggle to power on and then blare and flicker. It is, as Interlopers have come to know, business as usual — in terms of the Auroras within this world. However, something a little different happens this time.

Interlopers will fall asleep all over the town of Milton. Even the ones who fight sleep and try to stay up into the small hours of the night will find themselves drifting off for a short while — as if their eyes just feel too heavy to keep open, and their minds slip into a deep kind of quiet darkness without their realising. And at first, there is nothing — nothing but the quiet dark. Something peaceful, almost.

A dream comes.

The first thing you notice is blood in your mouth, the cold in your bones, the deafening din in your ears — as if you are caught in static and the sound of howling winds through pine trees. You are afraid. At first, you do not know why. You find yourself on your knees in the snow. The skies are filled with green light, the air is thick with smoke. And then the realisation comes:

This is the ending of all things.

You look up, to the sight before you: a huge, shapeless shadow. Towering above you, over you. A head peers down at you: a cluster of three wolf skulls, eye-sockets glowing green and terrible, and their three open maws, dripping with more green. The sound it makes is unnatural, you cannot put it into words. The darkness draws in, you are so cold, so tired.

This is the ending of all things.

It is so hungry. You are so tired. The world falls away, you cannot see the stars, the dark hiding them from view. Were they even there to begin with? Or did they go out? You have forgotten. And you know, you know—

This is the ending of all things.

The skies glimmer, licks of strange, colourful wisps curl above — a voice screams out your name, from the static and winds. Through the noise. A woman’s voice. You have heard this voice before, in the lights and noise. Do you see? What could be? What you could become?

Can you hold on? Please. A hand grips your shoulder, but as you turn — the dream ends.

For some, they snap into waking with a shout or cry. Some will shudder awake to find tears in their eyes. All over Milton, the Interlopers wake: shaken, unsure, afraid. They will awaken to the dark: the Aurora is gone — slowly fading from the night skies into an otherwise calm and clear night.

It is a new year.

Comments

Rorschach | OTA cw: mention of PTSD nightmare symptoms

[moralabsolutism]

Rorschach had fallen asleep in the middle of the night, something that was highly unusual for someone on a mostly nocturnal schedule. Feeling that sleepy was odd and he felt like something was wrong. Fortunately, he'd barely made it back to one of the cabins he resided in before he'd completely passed out instead of ending up lying in the snow or on a rooftop. He didn't even have a chance to remove his face before he did so.

Had anyone still been awake and in the room to observe him, they would have seen him thrashing around like someone in the middle of a violent PTSD nightmare, mumbling phrases that couldn't quite be made out. He'd had them before and this was not unusual for him. What was unusual was snapping awake and practically heaving himself out of bed before he realized what was going on. When he realized the dream was over with, he sat there on the edge of the bed, removing his face for once as he held his head in his hands, trying to make sense of what he'd just seen.

After he woke up, well, that was it. He wasn't sleeping for the next three days if he could help it. See, nightmares like these were the reason he didn't sleep much in the first place. You went to sleep and woke up feeling like the world was ending. One would find him the next late afternoon, just as the dim twilight turned into actual nightfall, awake and seeking out others. He had a thermos of coffee with him and was planning on drinking the entire thing to provide some incentive for his body to stay awake. "Have anything....strange happen last night?"

[jackdawvision]

Edward, thank fuckin' god, had been good and not gone out on the rooftops for patrol when he fell asleep, dropping like a rock onto the carpet and snoring then and there. When he woke up with the dream still playing out under his eyelids, lingering like a ghost, he'd decided to stay up the rest of the night and into the next day.

In the afternoon, as he was doing somewhat shoddy repairs on an empty house in case someone new decided to move in there, he took note of Rorschach approaching and waved him over onto a chair he'd dragged out. "Nothing too strange," he said, "unless you're speaking of that dream?"

[solitarysoul]

Levi's night's sleep had been about the same as it always was, which is to say it was horrible. The nightmare lingered in a way few other dreams had. It couldn't be good. He didn't know what it meant, but he knew it was bad. So he's on patrol with a bit more purpose, looking for anything that might end up being a danger or areas that need to be protected somehow. He stops when Rorschach addresses him and nods.

"...I had a nightmare. Different from the usual ones."

Had others had it too? People seemed to be more on edge than usual.

[satanicpanics]

There are some nights when Eddie sleeps well, and other nights where the pain of poorly healed wounds, anxieties and the cold keep him awake. This night had been the latter, and it’s nights like that where he plays guitar until all hours of the morning—usually with no amplification, much to his chagrin.

Sleep had come fast, though, slamming into him like a bullet train before he can even recognize the signs of the aurora’s approach. He winds up cross-legged on the carpet of the home he’s claimed as his own, draped over his guitar. He doesn’t normally dream of anything but a dark ghost town with a red sky, a place unfamiliar to most others here, but this time it’s different. Bitter cold, a green light, smoke, a three-headed monster, the end of the world as they know it. When he wakes, he doesn’t know if it frightens him more or less than his usual dreams, but it certainly doesn’t sit well with him.

It’s late afternoon when he finally stumbles out into the snow, dark shadows beneath his eyes and long hair even messier than usual, a cigarette clasped between his fingers so tightly that the filter is all but flattened to a pulp.

“Huh?,” comes his response, and he blinks as he turns to meet Rorschach with his strange mask. He’s clearly on edge, because despite having run across this guy multiple times, even the sight of him makes him jump. “Nah, I mean--real bad dream, but what else is new?"

what if I just...

[eighteenhalflives]

It had certainly been a choice, to step into the library later that night; was Rorschach expecting to find someone there, or had he come with something else in mind? In either case, a wash of dim green-tinted light around the corner was the first sign he wasn't alone - followed shortly by the quiet clack of claws on the wooden floor.

[bigbaddy]

At least it's not hard to find Bigby. It seems that the other has decided to sit outside of his cabin to smoke his cigarette, rather than doing it inside. Really, usually he does just do it inside, not even really minding the way the smell of the smoke creeps into everything, but.. Maybe he doesn't really feel like being confined, especially right now. Especially today, after that dream from last night.

It means the relatively broad man is pretty visible, though he doesn't seem to react with much emotion - well, beyond the usual patented Bigby Resting Grump Face - when Rorschach approaches.

"You tryin' to go around town to ask people if they had the same dream?"

closed to Billy Gibson

[friendsfordinner]

The dream comes to them when Cornelius and Billy are in bed, curled up, enjoying each other's company and the warmth of each other's body for the first time in fucking ages. He sees the wolves, he hears the woman's voice, he looks up at the sky and sees beauty, loveliness, power, him—

And then Hickey wakes up. He scrambles so that he's sitting upright, breathing heavily, trying to hold onto the image in his mind, trying to not let that dream fade away. He looks over at Billy who...is also awake?

(Of course he is. Billy's a part of this now. Disciples get visions just as much as prophets do.)

"What the fuck was that?" Hickey asks, not bothering to keep the awe and more-than-slight confusion out of his voice.

[notarat]

The initial moment Billy wakes with a gasp and realises that it was a dream, that he's still here rather than out there, that there are no unknown shapes surrounding him, he figures it's just the most screwed up nightmare he's ever had.

.. it's an assumption that rapidly starts to fade when he can't feel the other's body heat against his own anymore. He can see Hickey sitting there, staring at him, their gazes meeting, and Billy instantly realises that Hickey must have seen the same thing. It's something about the combination of both of them waking so similarly, and the fact that something about that dream seemed so little like anything he's seen back home, and so much more like this place.

He doesn't think he likes the implications of any of that.

He uprights himself too, less with a jolt, instead feeling a little more shakey. Just enough for him to instinctively seek comfort in the other, Hickey being the thing here that feels most real, Billy's hands landing on the other's arm.

"Cornelius," he says, his tone breathless. Definitely less awe here, but affected all the same.

A part of him seems to think better of the touch, pulling one hand back, letting the other remain.

"You saw it too." A statement, not a question.

Crozier | OTA

[goingtobeunwell]

This is the ending of all things.

Crozier's roused from his nightmare quietly, body trembling and breath coming in short, sharp pants that fill the small space of the igloo with wisps of steam. He bends over in his fur-lined bedroom and sobs quietly into his only remaining hand.

The ending of all things: finally, finally.

He does something unusual after the dream end -- in the dead of night, Francis Crozier leaves the igloo and walks out to the community center. He's carrying a bundle on his back, presents from the wilderness he needs to still deliver.

[load_aim_shoot]

Raju's head lifts at the movement at the door but his gaze is distant, thoughts half-on the words on the page in front of him, though his pen is unmoving in his hand. Then his gaze sharpens all at once; Raju knows the man making his way inside, though he'd realised at some point during the storm that he'd never asked for the man's name.

Raju raises his free hand, in place of a name, to try and get the man's attention, starts to stand and pauses to flick away the blanket still twisted around his thigh, impatiently. A couple straps and loops sewn onto it in neat brown thread make it easier to wear as a coat than it used to be but he doesn't bother with it now; for once, the cold isn't the thing most urgently on his mind. That would be a blessing, if every single thing about this place wasn't so damned frustrating.

"You too?" He calls it out and then moves closer, eyes flicking over the man's expression and then the rest of him, not bothering to keep his voice down. There isn't a one of them inside the building who's asleep, now. "It seems we all had one. I haven't checked the details against anyone else's yet."

[solitarysoul]

Its late, but when Croizer gets to the hall Levi is seated against a wall. He's methodically disassembling, cleaning and reassembling his rifle, trying to focus on anything but that dream. He looks up as Croizer enters, "You, um, you need something?"

It was weird for people to come into the hall in the middle of the night, more so when it was the people who lived around the edge of town. Levi doesn't think he's seen this guy in months.

[burying]

In some ways, it's a blessing. Better to dream of this than memories of the things he did — the people he hurt, killed. But he awakes, shaken, and hides under blankets in the dark until he's too restless to stay there. There are more lights on when he looks out of the window, and he realises something's up. Enough to have him scrambling for clothes and putting contacts in his eyes and cover-up mousse on his face to hide his natural face.

By the time he steps onto the porch of his cabin, people are walking about. A good few of them heading to the Community Hall. Kieren stares, until the shape of a man in furs catches in the corner of his eye. He does a quick double take before he's heading down the steps to catch up up with him.

"Hey, uh— excuse me." he speed-walks awkwardly through the snow, his legs don't work like they used to — like they don't really belong to him anymore. "Wait, uh—"

He catches up, half-smile and half-grimace. How does he even word this.

"Did... did something weird just happen?"

[notarat]

The anxiety of the dream clings to Billy like a ghost. Even though he did have Hickey right there with him to talk about it after waking up from it, it does absolutely nothing to shake the sensation off him. It's both deeply unpleasant and unsettling, and out of a lack of a better idea, the man decides to head over towards the community center, figuring there could be people over there who might have a better idea of what's going on than him.

Point in case: the man standing there who very much looks like he belongs in this place. Even if Billy has also shed his coat from back home in favour of something a little more odd - read: modern and unfamiliar to him - yet warm, he isn't out here wearing furs. Surely that's going to be someone who knows what's going on.

"Excuse me," he says as he approaches. Look, he may be feeling anxious and unsettled as hell, but he does have manners. "Do you--"

Billy cuts himself off when he's actually staring the other man in the face. It's different from the way he's used to seeing it, which is what threw him off right alongside the clothing, but.. that's definitely not what he expected to see, and also definitely not a person he expected or hoped to run into.

His expression shifts to something between openly startled and confused, before he manages to sputter out a: "Captain?"

[moralabsolutism]

Guess who was also up in the middle of night? Granted, for Rorschach, this was like being up at noon given he was on a nocturnal schedule. He'd immediately left the house he was in once he'd pulled himself together. If this place was ending, he wanted to see it for himself.

But all he saw was the streets of Milton, covered in snow and the tracks of those who had gone through it. He did see one figure up and about he didn't expect to see: the igloo man, which was how Rorschach thought of him seeing as Crozier lived by himself in one. He was on a rooftop and made his way to another, easily making the leap. It was easy to keep pace with someone who was carrying something on their back. He watched, his usual intense presence turned up by a degree of about ten.

[bestsir]

Goodsir wakes as if dragging himself out of deep, dark water, and his face is wet with tears. He's trembling, and he sits for a long time in his bed before he can finally rouse himself completely.

Once he's finally up and dressed, he ventures out, seeking his friends first and foremost. Even though he doesn't know that his nightmares are a shared experience, he does feel very strongly that he needs to make sure that everyone he cares about is all right.

[goingtobeunwell]

On his way to the community center Crozier comes across the familiar silhouette of Harry Goodsir, also roused out of bed by something horrific and possibly trudging through the snow in the hope to soothe his own worries. He waits a beat and then calls out to him softly.

tw amputation

[jackdawvision]

First things first.

Edward finds his way to Goodsir’s while the fellow’s still out, the stump of his ring finger bound up in bandages. He should’ve done this earlier, really. He’s—fine, he’s well enough, he cut off the finger himself with his own blade before the frostbite could get even worse than it did, but. Well. He could use a second opinion. Someone who actually, y’know, knows what he’s doing.

And to top it off there’s that damn nightmare, still rattling around his head. He shivers.

Goodsir’s not here. Must be checking on people. Edward decides to wait, settling into a chair and opening a book he’d found in the house he’d claimed for his own—some tawdry romance, dog-eared, well-loved. He can’t see the appeal, honestly, but he’s halfway through it now and he might as well see it through.

[castitas]

In the Community Hall, those who sleep there are now awake despite the time of night. There's a hushed unease, Interlopers at a loss of what to do. Some sit awkwardly, others move to make hot drinks for something to do. It doesn't look like anyone's getting any sleep at time soon.

Harry will find Kate sat hunched over at one of the tables, half-dressed, half-awake and bleary-eyed. She'd been crying when she'd woken up, but she fights the tears back in her concentration. She's working at something, her hands shaking as she scribbles furiously at the page, shading in the black with a ballpoint pen. She's drawing.

Everyone in the Hall talks about the same thing even though that seems impossible and so messed up. So maybe she should be drawing it, after all. Maybe it's important. She doesn't know.

In community hall, OTA

[solitarysoul]

Levi awakes with a gasp and quickly rolls out of bed to grab the rifle under it. His eyes dart around the room for a few moments as his heart calms down and his brain catches up with being awake. When it does, he takes a deep breath and sits back down on his cot. That was not a normal nightmare. It almost reminded him of the dreams in Preheval, atop the tower with the sickeningly greenish moon hanging right atop it. Watching. Waiting.

But no tower this time, and no strange man(?) dressed like a jester telling him about a festival he never agreed to take part in. Instead there was just...the figure with three, wolfish heads. Its been a life time since he'd learned about the old gods (not counting the few tidbits Marina had shared), but he remembered enough. He buries his face in his hands, shivering. "...Gro-goroth."

[aetherialshackles]

[If he had not seen the end of his own world, Erichthonios would be incredibly more shaken, but after the nightmare he's just... wiping away his tears and getting up. He's deeply bothered by hat he just saw, scared, but he's also doing his best to keep control of the situation. Bad dreams are a common companion of Erichthonios's nights, having a voice telling him This is the ending of all things. isn't new as well... this is different, sure, but he had seen the sky turn into fire and monsters born of pure aether devour his people, ha has heard coworkers he considered family scream in horror as they were murdered and he even almost reached the end himself- this has to be his mind playing more tricks on him, right?

The man wraps himself in a tattered blanket, starting to wander through the community hall to shake off the insistent senses of dread and despair- if there is anything he should recognize in the three skulls, he misses it. The closest thing he could associate to it is the Hippokampos he tended to and that's all... it's just one of the countless misshaped things he has seen, right? Right? It's not easy to be completely quiet, not when he feels like crying. It's okay, he tells himself, others already have enough problems without dealing with his fears...

As bad as he feels to admit it, it's almost a relief when passing near one of the shared areas people use to rest when they spend the night in the Hall, he sees someone else is awake. And it's even a more selfish form of relief when he realizes the other man is upset- ad least that will allow him to push his own feelings to the side and focus on something more important, the other person's well being.]

Hey... [He does his best to smile while approaching and making slow movements. The researcher knows the rifle is a weapon and would rather not startle Levi.] Can't sleep tonight?

Fraser | OTA

[maintiensledroit]

[ Sleep came on him so suddenly that he didn't have time to bank the small fire he'd built to keep off the worst of the chill. It had crumbled slowly into glowing coals as he and Diefenbaker slept -- and dreamt -- and when he awakens with a start, he can see through the gloss of tears in his eyes the dark pile of ashes, now wet with snow.

The lean-to he'd pitched isn't warm, but it keeps the snow off his clothes and the wind off his back, and when Fraser rolls up to sitting, the faint tremble in his limbs is less from the frigid weather than the fear that grips him. Still, he takes his time in re-building his small fire, here in the hazy half-dawn of the far North, and when the flame is licking at the kindling, he reaches into his pack, draws out a dog-eared leather journal, then thumbs to a certain passage.

( That night in my cabin, I lay there and thought about fear and what it does to a man...
how it eats his insides out and takes the best from him. )

He can almost hear his father's voice speaking the words aloud. And when he finishes, he sets a pot of coffee on the fire, takes a deep breath, and finds a smile for the person who has come his way. ]

I always find a hot cup of coffee can help after a long night. Would you like some?

for castitas

[maintiensledroit]

[ The sun is fully up, creeping along the horizon line, when Fraser presents himself at the Community Hall, holding a cloth pillowcase filled with some soft material, Diefenbaker heeled nicely at his side. He'd debated leaving the wolf at the lean-to or sending him out to hunt, but finally decided it might be best to simply rip the bandage off, so to speak. ]

Now, remember.

[ This spoken down to the wolf, who glances up at him. ]

People might be a little nervous about you. Try not to take it personally. Once you show them you can be trusted, I'm sure they'll warm right up.

[ Diefenbaker blinks back at him, which Fraser takes as agreement. He takes off his hat, smooths his hand down the front of his uniform, and comes into the Community Hall with Dief trotting at his side, smiling at everyone who meets his glance. ]

Hello. Good morning. Ah, excuse me. Could any of you perhaps direct me to a Kate Marsh?

Here But Not But --

[ployboy]

"Fenrir...?"

It's a mumble, Tim's voice meant for no one. It's about as rough with sleep as he is now, one thin blanket hanging across his shoulders by a miracle. The winds aren't fierce tonight, but it is night. He's pacing because there is no other word for his restlessness within the Hall. People congregate in the Hall. And so he had trudged through the paths. To here. And now he's heard the whispers and stories. He's not dressed for being out in a winter's night.

But that's not important, what's important is making it make sense, and with a hand half-cupping his own jaw and obscuring his mouth and against the skin of his lips he mutters the obvious, because someone has to.

"It doesn't want us gone, it wants us to die."

[ooc: replies may or may not be noticed by him! He's.... sleep.......]

A dog, a god, a voice, all green, all-knowing--? Maybe not, but it does know, it's old, it's

"It's hungry?"

[thefifthchild]

Damian watches Tim wander the hall in his state of what is very blatant exhaustion. It's one of the rare moments where Damian thinks he can't fully him. A troubling revelation, as blaming Tim is one of his favorite things to do.

It's not like nightmares are uncommon for him. No more than they're uncommon for Tim, or for any of them.

But the tears that ran down Damian's face when he woke... that was strange. The eyes, so horribly green, like R'as Al Ghul, like Mother, like his own. The voice. He can't help but feel he let her down again - but... who, exactly?

Nobody he knows. The others speak on it, and they are shaken by what they know as Damian can only vaguely speculate. Typical.

It makes him irritable. And Tim's muttering is irritating him too now. So he stands, approaches Tim, and smacks him upside the head.

( closed starters ) Edward Little & Konstantin Veshnyakov

[fidior]

Starters for little prelude reactions here! Feel free to lmk if you'd like to do a thing ♡ horreur / hagfishs @ discord / pm

( Thomas Jopson ) — ɪs ɪᴛ ᴛᴏᴏ ᴍᴜᴄʜ? ᴛʜɪs ʙᴜʀᴅᴇɴ ᴛᴏ sʜᴀʀᴇ

[fidior]

[ Edward wakes, trembling, vision blurry with tears. For a long moment, he doesn't know where he is and he can't move, eyes wide, staring into the darkness of a room.

A hand at his shoulder. Something desperate, pleading. A monster. He's shaking deeply, cold in his bones. Wet escapes down the side of his face, a tear that leaks into the tangled waves of his hair.

He's no stranger to nightmares. They haunt him frequently, but mostly the things in his nightmares look like men. Men rotting, eyes sunken, mouths open in wordless agony. This was... something else.

Edward gets up, and as he's moving in the darkness, he remembers where he is. Thomas Jopson's cabin, where he's ended up sleeping sometimes after his nightly patrols: an offer he never would have expected, knows he does not deserve, and holds onto like a lifeline. He stumbles a little, but tries to be quiet as he moves to the kitchen area of the modest home, hands trembling as he finds a glass cup left from the home's previous occupant. Slowly, carefully, Edward turns on the faucet (running water, it's still such a novel luxury for them), and pours himself a glass, trying to be as quiet as possible so as not to wake Jopson, not yet knowing that the dream roused the other man, too.

The water's ice-cold, of course, but he takes a swallow, and then gasps afterwards. Not from the cold, but from the upset lodged in his chest. He's blinking rapidly against the heat of fresh tears as he stands there, not daring to move. He's been afraid before, but this is... different.

This is the ending of all things. ]

Closed | Wolfwood | CW: Body Horror

[cantor]

[Nightmares have become a familiar refrain since Renny's escape from the nautiloid. He knows the beats well by now: his skin dropping in gory chunks, the piercing sensation of his head eaten from the inside out, his slimy body moving in accordance to an invisible conductor while he desperately screamed from within, to no avail. But this is a new piece. There is no mind flayer, no parasite ravenously feasting upon its host. What comes instead is light, beautiful and terrible; cold, numbing and sharp; the inarticulate (divine?) sounds loosed by the lupine skulls.

He hears the woman's voice, feels the hand. It is not his dream visitor. Who is it? He turns and-

Renny wakes up to a deafening, silent evening, tangled in his sheets. He's alone in the house he's holed himself in. He lies there, breathing hard, sweating, and doesn't fall back asleep.

The hours crawl by. He paces. He digs deep into his memories for stories and songs of slavering beasts, of apocalypses that devoured the stars. He recites what he remembers to himself, cuts himself off when he realizes no, that's not right, and the whole cycle begins again.

Dawn will break soon. Renny shoulders his lyre, pulls on his jacket and knit cap. He heads out to find a place for his prayers, face creased in deep, troubled thought. He's still muttering to himself, both as an attempt to find answers and a way to soothe himself:]

Tarry not in place, for in their sleep the gods do stay...

[lastdecember]

[ He thought his nightmares were bad before he'd been brought to Milton, but it turns out that dying – or nearly dying, or whatever it was that had really happened – will fuck a man's sleep up like nobody's business. The dreams leave him shaking, sweating – and crying, more often than he'd like to admit it – so for his own peace of mind he's taken residence in a house way at the edge of town, far enough away from any neighbors that nobody will hear him when he wakes. It gives him the privacy he needs, but it also means that he's stuck all the way out there until morning dawns, and the pathetic single sun arrives to turn the night's chill from murderous to simply miserable.

Being all that ways out also means that when the town wakes from its collective nightmare, Wolfwood has no idea that what he's dreamed was anything but his own imagination – there's nobody nearby enough for him to have heard their shouts or cries. He still feels shaky as he bundles himself up for the trek into town, pulling all his mismatched gear on and fastening everything tight against the pre-dawn chill. At least it wasn't the same nightmare again, he tries to laugh, crunching through the snow. There's only so many dead kids he can handle – a three headed dog with green blood? That's new! That's certainly new.

He spots Renny from aways off, although he doesn't recognize him right away as one of the people he'd met that first confusing day – the guy's just another bundled up figure, trying not to freeze. But as he gets closer, he realizes that just how short the man is... and he's only met one person so far who meets that description. ]

Oi. [ He's trying for casual, but it comes out twitchy and awkward. ] Little early for graverobbing, isn't it?

(closed to kate)

[bigbaddy]

[ After Bigby spots the drawing on the message board, he immediately goes around asking if anyone knows who made said drawing in the first place. Thankfully apparently Kate was spotted drawing enough that it doesn't take very long before Bigby knows who he's looking for, which means he'll approach her soon after. ]

Hey.

[ Bigby is.. definitely aware he's not great with kids, or anyone young.. But he tries to seem relatively approachable right now despite his permanent resting grump face, considering he doesn't just want to scare her off right away.

So he's trying to make this sound less like an interrogation - something that tends to happen pretty naturally with him - and more like a curious inquiry. ]

You made the drawing that's up on the message board, right? The one of the creature from the dream.

[castitas]

[ Kate's sat on her cot, scribbling away in a notepad. She hasn't really slept much since the dream, so she doodles. Or tries to. There isn't much joy either in her work or what she's specifically drawing. Somehow it keeps going back to that... thing. ]

Oh, um. Hi. [ She looks up. She's seen the man around before, but never spoke. Or she doesn't think so. He'd been stuck in the Hall with the rest of them for the storm, and he goes about town sometimes.

At the question, there's a nervous little nod. Even with the lack of interrogation, it's not exactly a... fun subject. ]

Yeah, I— I, um. I guess maybe it was important to? [ Even Kate doesn't really know. ] Everyone started talking about it in here when we all woke up, so—

Closed to Bigby

[guidemyway]

[Haunting nightmares weren't a strange thing to Ruby. You never really get used to nightmares about facing the end of the world, especially when it's something she's actively trying to stop. But what comes is different than what usually haunts her nightmares. That thing wasn't Salem- It was chilling in all of it's own way.

When the morning comes she looks tense and tired, but not exactly afraid. She's gathered up a handful of supplies from a handful of empty houses and she's already on her way back to her cabin.]

[bigbaddy]

[ Of course Bigby doesn't necessarily like the cold here - even if he is more used to it than most people - but today he's out in it anyway. Anything feels better than being cooped up in his little cabin with the thoughts of that dream. He doesn't like socialisation enough to head over to the Community Center for it though, instead finding himself wandering around town aimlessly, letting his thoughts run through the dream again and again.

It's during the walk that he spots something. A familiar figure.

As soon as he registers it's that familiar girl, Bigby takes a few larger steps to catch up with her. ]

Ruby.

[ He knows these sorts of dreams.

He knows it can't only have been him. No way. And if she had the dream too, and she's all by herself right now - then he ought to at least check up on her, right? She's still so young. Too innocent, too. ]

Did you-- Did you have a weird as hell dream?

[ Not cursing in front of the kiddos challenge: failed once more. ]