TEST DRIVE MEME 004

[rubimods]

⚰︎ ⍢ ⌲ ⍚ TEST DRIVE MEME:

Welcome to RUBILYKSKOYE — a dark, horror-smut game where player choices will drive a mod-run storyline about the world and its NPCs. This test drive meme provides a medley of prompts evoking the game's general tone.

THESE THREADS CAN BE GAME CANON if both players are accepted into the game and agree to it. However, if players who'd prefer to start fresh are welcome to reuse these prompts in their own personal logs upon acceptance into the communities. Note: the universal test drive arrival prompt will not be repeated on the coming event log, but players are welcome to reuse the prompt.

CONTENT WARNINGS for this game include: monsters, body horror, dub-con, non-con, religion, blood/violence, and marking/branding, loss of autonomy/self, and mental influences. This log additionally has warnings for: spiders, animated skeletons, aphrodisiac effects, exhibitionism/voyeurism, bdsm, kink negotiation, knifeplay, potential dismemberment.

If you have QUESTIONS about the test drive prompts, please ask HERE. Questions about the game itself or the general setting should be directed to the FAQ.

FAQ ✧ SETTING ✧ CALENDAR ✧ RESERVES ✧ APPLICATIONS

IN THE WOODS SOMEWHERE

The chirping of partridges in the treetops rouses you. Light barely filters through the canopy, just enough to suggest daylight. By the time it reaches the forest floor, the light has taken on a sickly green. You lie amongst the frost-covered mosses and ferns, the frozen soil cold and just a little damp on your bare skin.

Wherever you were before this moment, whatever you were doing or wearing, when you awaken in this forest, you find yourself naked and helpless as the day you were born. As you sit up and get your bearings, aside from a brief wave of disoriented nausea, you seem to be no worse for wear than you last remember.

You seem to be alone. The gnarled oaks and moss suggest no sign of civilization or sentient life. Just flickers of movement from curious squirrels or brave lizards emerging from a temporary retreat from the wintry weather. With your feet under you, and you'll find the wood is filled with berry bushes and nut trees, though much of the fruit has been picked clean. The freshwater stream that runs north-south, populated by both poisonous toads and delicious crawdads, is running actively despite the growing chill.

wildlife encounters

The longer you hike, the more unsettling sights await you: animal remains, some partially stripped of their flesh or discarded entrails left exposed to the cold. As you continue on your way, you might even swear you catch a glimpse of what appears to be a fully-formed skeletal creature observing you from a distance. Surely, that’s just your mind playing tricks on you... These creatures may be unsettling, but they show no signs of aggression to folks who keep their distance.

In the forest, you may run into others with stories just like yours. Some may have already formed clumsy nudist groups, others may still be processing their confusion, with no memory of how they got here. Now is a good time to overcome any hang-ups you have about modesty; it's going to be a long hike, and the weather isn't quite amenable to your lack of.

Turn your back to the darker, shadowy parts of the forest and eventually the glow of manmade lights and the curve of a dirt road may come into view. At the edge of the wood, you'll find a town surrounded by a fifty-foot wall of beige stone. The only entrance is an iron gate positioned on the southern edge. When you arrive, the gate is already open, welcoming people inside.

This quaint, historic town of five-thousand has cobbled street and signs lit by gas lamp. Wooden shutters protect otherwise open-air windows on the buildings, which are all under three stories with gabled roofs. A number of businesses hug the main street — a clockmaker, a cobbler, a grocer — while residential homes sprawl outwards towards the wall. At the far end of the main street, visible about a mile to the north now that the trees and the enormous wall is out of the way, sits a castle with three towers.

When you enter, the streets are full of people, but despite any efforts on your part to hide or make excuses, they don't seem offended by your nakedness. Even families with children don't gawk or look twice. Those determined to find proper clothing regardless will find that modern clothing stores aren't available — the closest this town has is a tailor's shop and a stand in the central marketplace selling scarves and blankets.

breaking and entering

If you intend to have your character break into someone's house or yard to steal some of their clean laundry, please review the info about game laws on the FAQ and give the mods a heads up HERE.

SETTING: CRIME

Fortunately, the people of the town are very generous! Anyone who ask the locals will be directed to the boarding house for both clothes and a place to stay. Accessible through an embellished iron garden gate and obscured by hanging plants, trees, and vines, beyond an overgrown yard in the residential sprawl of the town is a bright-red door, which opens to a spacious cottage of several stories. It's already full of people who appeared in the village just as you did today.

Tonight, a few of the townspeople will help out with the new arrivals. They stock the kitchen and prepare a communal dinner of parsnips, pheasant, and squash. During dinner, they (and those outsiders who've already begun to settle) sit down at the enormous wooden dining room table and help orient the newcomers and answer their questions.

finding roommates

Don't spend too much time in the dining room going for seconds, though. You'll want to claim a bedroom quickly because each one only has two full-size beds, and there aren't enough spaces for everyone. The last people upstairs will need to double up to squeeze in. Roommates will not be mod-assigned; players should coordinate directly with one another to determine their living arrangements.

Get a good night's rest. By the light of day, locals will help get the new arrivals set up on the coal stove with breakfast. You may notice they're dressed in a way you would almost call normal — at least, in a manner befitting 19th century Eastern Europe. As you find your way around town to get your bearings, folks are eager to help you find a place to apply your skills so you can contribute to your new home.

writer's block?

If you're struggling to pick a way to engage the prompts, try: naked hiking, acquiring clothing or other inventory items, asking questions at dinner/orientation, or staking your claim on a bedroom!

RECUMITA

The festival fills the streets with dancing locals and all the stuffs of a street market. Despite the challenges posed by the snow-in-summer, farmers are grateful to announce that the situation is not as dire as initially feared. As a result, the harvest festival of Recūmita becomes a celebration of unity and gratitude to their fellow townspeople for salvaging an almost-frozen harvest, the Duchess' magic for protecting and reviving it, and the 'Void-Touched' who braved the Void to strengthen her.

Over the weekend, all regular work is put on hold, except for the necessary festival preparations. The streets come alive with vibrant stalls and stands, offering a wide array of delectable treats and refreshing beverages. From barrels of beer and cups of kvas to mouthwatering roasted meats, delightful squash-based dishes like pumpkin latkes, honey-glazed brussel sprouts on skewers, hot borscht in both pork and vegetarian variations, and tantalizing mushrooms stuffed with leeks, cranberries, and bryndza cheese, there is an abundance of flavors to indulge in.

The first day of the festival transforms the streets into a bustling night market, where shopkeepers organize an assortment of carnival-style games. Test your strength in arm-wrestling contests or challenge your pain tolerance in contests where individuals whip each other to determine who yields first, whether to pain or pleasure. In one corner, Terry's Rubean student sets up an unsanctioned fighting tournament, while in another area, a path of hot coals awaits the daring souls who wish to traverse it. Instead of traditional pie-throwing stands, knife-throwing stands attract participants who willingly become targets.

Enthusiastic Rubeans, particularly those involved in integrating the Void-touched, take it upon themselves to enhance the festivities. They recruit local participants and willing Void-touched individuals to partake in an impromptu stage performance, with no need for rehearsals. Come as you are and join the spectacle! Once the performance begins, the passion and excitement behind their efforts become truly evident, as all the performances call for explicitly sexual or violent acts to be performed together.

writer's block?

If you're struggling to pick a way to engage the prompts, try entering the fighting rings, watching or joining a live sex performance, or eating some aphro food (deliberately or otherwise)!

the fathomless dark

At the outer edges of the forest, shadows grow long and the air grows thick. Though the sun never grows warm red-gold with sunset, the wood darkens. Birdsong is replaced by the click of mandibles and the skitter of many legs. Anyone who ventures out this way will soon find it difficult to see before them, even in the middle of the day — eventually, even the brightest magical light source or darkvision cannot stretch further than a few inches.

In the void, the air feels heavy, as if it were not air at all but some more solid mass. Almost like liquid-smoke, it presses down upon you. Slowing your movements. Characters who push too far into the void may stop being able to move at all, and find themselves given over to insanity if they collapse, unable to draw themselves out. This is just one of many dangers.

Monsters thrive this far out. Huge, blood-red spiders the size of hunting dogs drop from the treetops. In addition to their venomous bite, which contains a fast-acting paralytic, these creatures are clever: they attempt to use their webbing to entangle any trespassers, binding limbs together or to trees. If you're unfortunate to become fully cocooned, you don't have long before this forest will be the last thing you see.

In addition to the spiders, you may come across the sharp-toothed furred yetis that emerged during the snowstorm, still looking for a meal. Each one hunts alone, a fifteen-foot-tall shambling creature that drips black ooze and super-chills the air around it until your skin feels tight and icy. If it gets the drop on you, you're likely to be its dinner. It has emerged from a long summer hibernation to enjoy the colder weather, and it's starving.

FAQ: DEATH RULES

Those who seem lucky enough not to run afoul of the monsters here are in for a worse fate. The void can play tricks on your senses. As madness sets in and you lose all sense of direction, you may also lose control of your body — what is that steers your hands to turn against your friends? Why does it sound like your own voice whispering?

In the fog, you may also hear the voices of those familiar to you — people you know from the town, or people whom you know with almost perfect certainty aren't here. these figments may recreate unhappy memories or force trespassers to hallucinate their worst nightmares. Nothing is as it seems in the void, and when you swing at these figments, desperate to silence them, it might not be a figment at all, but a friend in the flesh trying to help you. By the time you see their true face, it could be too late to stop yourself.

writer's block?

If you're struggling to pick a way to engage the prompts, try fighting a monster, hallucinating your worst nightmares, and/or attacking a friend or stranger!

HIDING INSIDE EACH OF US

Uh oh spaghetti-os.

The marks worn by all residents of Rubilykskoye aren't just cool body art, as it turns out. The town is full of rumors, whispered in shadows and over candles of a starving creature hiding in the dark corners of your chest. Feed your inner beast, they say, before it finds a way to feed itself.

FAQ: MONSTER CURSES & TIMELINES

Alas, its emergence is inevitable — sooner or later, the horrible things that happen here pile up and make someone repulsed by the idea of human contact. Someone holds themselves back, bites their tongue, or simply does not believe the stories. Today, for one reason or another, that creature is coming out. Someone hasn't been keeping it sated.

Symptoms escalate over weeks, from monstrous irritability to full-blown body horror transformation, where people physically shed their human forms and evolve into the monsters this place made them. Once a person becomes something more (or less) than human there's only one way to go back — sate the beast.

someone else transforms

Rubilykskoye's performance troupe is thrown into a state of panic as they make a shocking discovery: Vyanchaslav, their unofficial manager and conductor, has vanished without a trace! Vyanchaslav plays a crucial role in the troupe, overseeing small inter-troupe matters and having the final say on casting and rehearsal time. He is known for his reliability, making his sudden disappearance all the more perplexing, especially right before a major event.

The last time anyone saw Vyanchaslav was in their usual rehearsal space, just before a crucial run-through of their upcoming performance. His absence during that rehearsal was highly unusual, and it left the troupe members worried and confused. They are now frantically trying to piece together what might have happened to him.

As they search for Vyanchaslav, they notice a faint sound lingering in the air – the distant whine of a fiddle. However, there is something unsettling about it. As they follow the source of the sound, the room grows darker, and an eerie chill runs down their spines. Those who draw close enough to properly hear Vyanchaslav's song will feel inclined to dance themselves til their feet bleed, til their lungs give out. That is, provided they don't cut a devil's bargain with him first, selling something else to the devil in exchange for their freedom.

(There are other monsters lurking in every townsperson — feel free to invent your own npc monsters and scenarios!)

you waited too long

At first, as you hide yourself from your darker impulses, a subtle itch develops under your skin. An irritability that makes you snap at the person who bumps into you on the stairs because all those fleeting emotions that you've been repressing bubble to the surface. Every dark thought you've had about being here, all the fears of never getting home, of being surrounded by ticking time bombs, the anxiety of wondering who you might hurt or what relationships you might betray by doing what you have to do. The anger. Oh, the anger.

Maybe you shut yourself in your room or run into the woods to hide away, but there's only so much you can do to deny the itch that grows into hunger like a spark catching and growing to wildfire. Someone comes to check on you. That knock on the door or crunch of leaves in the wood that fills you with dread at what you might do and hope that you will be sated.

As claws and fangs and scales and spines and fur grow and your body transforms with a sickening crunch of bones and peeling of skin, so do your appetites. If you won't sate them, you'll lose yourself to your beastly impulses sooner or later, mauling friends and taking your fill. Is it better or worse if only your claws get inside of them?

RULES: CONTENT WARNINGS

Comments

marc spector, marvel | wilk

[vestments]

in the woods somewhere
cw: nudity, references to unreliable perceptions of reality.

( marc's woken up not knowing where he is before. that isn't anything new, and neither is awakening, naked and confused, nausea sitting unpleasantly in the pit of his stomach. the usual answers — death, resurrection; sleep-walking — don't feel applicable here. there's the added question of: is this real? he's not sure. it feels real, the earth solid and cold beneath his hands, but still a sliver of doubt sits at the back of his mind.

he breathes in and then out. one. two. three. a thought, brief, of how he knows khonshu would be able to hear him, able to answer, able to — provide a path? he has before. it's not a good idea, but marc's never been good at good ideas. he's never been good at planning, at thinking ahead. he could, but— would khonshu answer? does he even want the miserable fucking asshole to answer? (HMM—.)

for now, he decides it'd be FUCKING STUPID, so he opts not to. opts to try and work out where he is instead. he doesn't stop to try and pick berries or nuts (not important), but he does head towards the sound of the stream. where there's water, he reasons, there's likely people.

at first, he thinks he's wrong. there's a whole lot of NOTHING when he reaches the stream, and his gaze turns one way then the other as he decides on which direction in which to head, before—

footsteps from somewhere behind. light, so either they're treading with deliberate care, or they're as naked as he is.

he's dishevelled — mussed hair, dark circles, stubble that says the thought of shaving hasn't entered his head in at least a couple of days. a scar above an eye, an assortment more across his back, his torso. mixed, the sort that are the result of fist fights and knife fights and gun fights alike. if he's embarrassed, it's not evident in his expression, not immediately, not beyond the pinch of his brow, the knitting of his eyebrows and an attempt to work out if he's familiar with — whoever.

after a moment, then— )

I was beginning to think I was alone.

MORE woods
cw: nudity, references to unreliable perceptions of reality, references to hallucinations/delusions.

( marc is not the most talkative of companions (sorry, whoever's ended up with him), but he's at least — apparently — not spooked by the skeletal and gorey, not-yet skeletal remains of animals the longer and further they trek. he's seen worse, and though he won't point it out cheerfully (marc spector is, perhaps, unaware of the definition of 'CHEERFUL'), he will offer it as an explanation if asked.

(what worse has he seen? well—.)

what does catch his attention — eventually — is the skeletal creature that seems to sit just on the edges of his vision. it's not that it's partially formed, it's not that it makes him feel uneasy (or — it does, but not for the reasons one might think).

the first time, he doesn't say anything, just looks at it and then away, quickly. decisive. the second time it elicits a frown, an unhappy downwards curve of his mouth, and he still — pointedly, deliberately — doesn't say anything. the third time, the frown is still there, the unhappiness is still there, but it's punctuated by frustration, a sudden burst of— )

—For fuck's sake, ( a growl more than anything else, and thought it's not loud, it is audible. )

night market
cw: n/a, potential for violence.

( typically, marc sleeps during the day and is awake at night — a fucked-up circadian rhythm courtesy of a (mostly) nocturnal lifestyle and a lot of coffee. as such, the night market's right up his alley (in a manner of speaking). he takes his time assessing the more physical stalls and games — the fight ring, the arm-wrestling, the ones that call on pain more than anything else.

the majority of his interest is piqued at the fight ring, although he avoids getting involved at first, preferring to watch. to weigh up options. once upon a time, in another life, this was how he'd supplemented his primary income, and here, now, with circumstances as they are, he's not about to rule anything out.

in the meantime—.

he gestures, a quick, vague movement at one of the two current fighters. ostensibly, one's more skilled than the other, but marc's more interested in the guy that looks like he's taking each punch because he can, because it's fun. bluntly, then, he'll offer his opinion. )

He'll win.

misc
          general cw for moon knight are available here along with an opt-out. i'm totally open to any other prompts/wildcard it up fam, feel free to hmu, otherwise shoot me a pm or a pp at spandex if there's anything u want to hash out!
          other: info, preferences, kinks.

night market!!

[oomfies]

[ Lottie's personal life has prompted a very interesting turn of interests. It turns out when you have insane neighbors with no sense of personal space (putting it lightly) self defense suddenly seems a lot more interesting. But Lottie refuses to go to the fighting circle at the tavern, so she watches the free, less judgey, one happening here at the festival. Her arms are crossed, looking like the most out of place spectator with her big and wild hair and her dress (not meant for fighting, hardly meant for moving, really).

She turns to Marc when he offers his commentary, having even forgotten he was there with the wild mess that is happening in the ring. This guy is really just getting it, isn't he? It's almost embarrassing. Each hit sounds louder than the last and it's almost enough to distract her from saying: ]

..What makes you say that?

!!!

[vestments]

( lottie does not look like the sort of person that's interested in watching fights and as such, he's not overly surprised by her question, by the way she slowly drags her attention from the guy getting his ass handed to him (visually, anyway). his gaze rests on her for a moment too long as he weighs up how to answer. )

Experience, ( he answers, bluntly. it's punctuated by a breath of a pause as he realises that it's not as clarifying as he'd meant (his experience in these kind of fights, not the—.) ) Gut feeling, ( he adds as a touch more explanation, before swiftly following it up with—. ) The other guy's going to tire himself hitting that hard for this long. And that guy, ( the one getting hit, the one not staying down, he means. ) Is enjoying it.

😌

[oomfies]

[ So sorry Marc, spending about half a year in a town that runs predominantly on violence and sex means that despite his sincerely earnest effort in explaining this to her (despite that side-eye!! Don't think she didn't notice!) all that registers is— ]

So he's like, into it.

[ That's how you win?? ]

[vestments]

( she misses about half the point in favour of a very succinct summation of his remaining point, and— )

—Yeah. ( a reluctant exhale of breath as an answer, not quite offended but imbued with the sense of 'is that really all you took from that?' made worse by the fact that she's not wrong. ) To do something like this, either you really like hurting people, or you really like being hurt, ( he adds.

it may or may not be true.

he may or may not be speaking from personal experience. )

[oomfies]

[ It is exactly all she took from that, and she was right in the end. Lucky Lottie! Even luckier that Marc keeps talking and it's starting to sound a little.. Personal. She was looking at him before — 'looking' is generous for what she was doing, it was more acknowledging he was there and talking in his general direction — but now she is looking. ]

Oh, you're one of those guys.

[ Not said with any judgement, but it is definitely said with a smile to her face. Like she just discovered something she shouldn't, the naughty and teasing undertones peeking through so easily. ]

You're like him!

[vestments]

( marc only vaguely notes the shift in the way she looks at him — that is, he's aware but he doesn't consider it of any huge importance, not right now. it's clear from the way that she talks that she's been here for longer than he has, but it's also clear that she's not likely to be a physical challenge in any way.

still, her remark has his expression shifting; stark surprise, eyebrows arching before knitting together in a pinched frown. one of those guys, she says, and he wants to argue no, but there's not much chance as a smile, sharp and teasing, pulls at the corners of her lips and she continues.

"you're like him".

the frown shifts into something a little flatter, his lips thinning into a line and he looks away from her back towards the fight. the tide's shifted just enough to be noticeable, the guy marc had pegged as the winner getting — for now — the upper-hand, although marc's suddenly willing to concede that it'd depend on whether he went into the fight injured or not. that'd make a difference—. )

Sure. ( levelly, attention going back to lottie. ) Used to make my living like him.

[oomfies]

[ Oh, she's got him. He looks away after that press of his lips and Lottie stifles her giggle, decides to follow his trail of sight even if it's less interesting than their conversation (she'll give him a break!). And it is— sure, the guy he so readily marked as the winner looks like he'll win, but if there's no conflict it's boring.

She's half a second away from staring at the candlelight flickering hot above them when he speaks again. She lifts her brows up in blatant surprise, with slow interest. Like Marc has suddenly become more than the rando who likes getting hit. ]

Like, professionally?? [ A beat. ] Were you any good?

[vestments]

Good enough. ( it's the verbal equivalent of a shrug, albeit one that doesn't really give much in the way of an answer. he probably could have been good, if he'd been willing to put in the time and energy, if he'd been willing to commit. it'd ended up a supplemental income, then not an income at all. all in all, he'd been far too erratic, far too unpredictable and far too prone to throwing ugly tantrums if he ever lost to someone he felt he shouldn't have lost to. ) It opened the door to a few jobs.

( a pause, and then— ) Why, looking for some tips?

[oomfies]

Something like that..

[ New jobs? She guesses this could be one, if she squints. If she gathers the nerve to commit to being brave and actually thinking of her safety. Which— ]

I should. [ A groan, right as Marc's winner gets punched, laughs uncomfortably loud at the tooth they have to spit out following. It's a comical contrast to how Lottie waffles about an answer, because this is embarrassing? Not because of the time and place, but because fighting. Specifically her? Fighting? What if she looks dumb? ] I mean. Probably.

—Let's just say recent life events with weird ass people has made me realize I need to be.. [ A gesture of her hand up into the air, as she thinks. ] Safer? And it's not like pepper spray exists here, so..

[vestments]

( he half-listens as she speaks, winces as a tooth is spat out, the action wet-sounding and, marc knows, bloody and uncomfortable. he imagines, quite against his will, that the not-him-but-could-be guy is running a tongue along the sudden gap, odd and smooth and tender, and then—.

"weird ass people".

a lingering glance, not quite unreadable but not a million miles away from it. thoughtful. he holds up a hand and folds a finger, one by one—) Hot pepper, alcohol, an oil, and something to use as a filter — cheesecloth. Coffee filter. ( beat. ) Eight hours, and a spray bottle.

Pretty simple, as far as these things go.

[oomfies]

[ He lists off each ingredient and Lottie looks— stupefied. Perplexed. Absurdly fucking thankful someone can give her a practical solution to an ever increasing problem of boys being physical with her. She laughs a little in relief. ]

What?

[ Pretty simple, he says. ]

Holy shit! No, wait. Write that down for me— [ She furiously pats her body for a pencil and paper, cursing when she doesn't find one because she's dressed for this stupid festival (no purse..!!). ] what else do you know??

[vestments]

( her response is an easy way to ascertain a certain something about lottie, and it's as much of an easy way to ascertain something about the town, about the rest of the — citizens? town people? none of it's especially good, but it gives him an idea of what to expect, at least.

still, he ignores the way she tells him to write it down (he doesn't need to), ignores the way she, in vain, pats at her clothes and then— ) What else do I know about what? ( he can guess what she means in a broad sense, but it's a very fucking large topic. there must be something specific she has in mind. )

[oomfies]

I don't know! Things! Stuff.. Self defense.

[ Self defense things and stuff, such an eloquent way of putting that Lottie is interested in cracking open his skull (what a fun analogy with the fight ending feet away — Marc's guy won! He is bleeding profusely but the crowd is overjoyed and thrilled). ]

Things someone like me can do in a pinch. Does that make sense?

[vestments]

( she attempts to clarify and the first two replies out of her mouth are utterly — pointless. "I don't know." "things." his expression shifts, eyebrows arching in poorly (not at all) disguised doubt, as if he's not sure where to even begin, and then she tacks on a 'self-defence'. it's more helpful but still not that much.

he looks back to the definitively-over fight, where some poor sod is starting the clean-up process. towels, a bucket. something someone like me can do in a pinch, she says, and marc doesn't immediately reply because he doesn't know her. he doesn't know what she's capable of. sure, he'd helped marlene, but she'd had a base. she'd had self-defence training before they'd even met, before selima—.

it wasn't starting from scratch, and if he's not wrong—.

a sharp glance, deadpan. ) In a pinch? ( repeated. confirmation. a loose handwave and then— ) Balls or eyes.

[oomfies]

[ She doesn't like the tone of his voice, but it's free advice and she's willing to take anything. So much that she ignores the flare of irritation she gets when he tells her the obvious: duh, balls or eyes. Always balls, never eyes.

She crosses her arms, huffing quietly as the crowd around them begins to mingle again. They're looking for their next pair— everyone else seems to be having a pleasant time (waiting to beat the shit out of each other, another archaic and fun Rubean past time!) yet here Lottie is, churning over words that feel like acid in her throat. ]

What if they transform?

[vestments]

( he doesn't quite catch the irritation because she doesn't quite linger on it long enough for it to become evident it's about him rather than anything else. he hears the huff, eyes the way she crosses her arms, but assumes it's more to do with the—everything else. at least for the moment, anyway.

he doesn't immediately change his mind, doesn't immediately think he's wrong even with the way she chews over her words, formulates the utterance with a heaviness that doesn't quite make sense to marc, not yet.

a quizzical glance, and then— ) I've not met anything that's not sensitive somewhere.

( a breath of a pause. clarification— )

There aren't easy, one-size-fits-all answers.

[oomfies]

Hmph.

[ There should be, she thinks. Why isn't there? She thinks. She doesn't sigh deeply but manages to withhold it, tired acceptance making her full lips curve down the slightest bit. It's clear she understands, but it's equally clear she doesn't like it. ]

Thanks for answering anyway, I guess..

woods

[carozer0]

[ Light steps because Caroline is light. Tall but skinny, barefoot, her long pale legs scratched up from the undergrowth in a way that had better not leave marks. ]

Thank fuck you're not though, right?

[ Seconds ago she'd been filled with tired disgruntlement, but the sight of another person has her putting on her friendliest face. Especially a big guy already wearing some scars, the kind of guy who looks like he can handle himself. Caroline isn't afraid of men, and right now she would really like someone with a little more wilderness experience than her "hiking in Big Sur" and "glamping in Cambodia" levels of familiarity with the woods.

She moves easily towards him, a friendly smile - her hair is grimy, held out of her face by being twisted around a stick. Empty hands, a little splintered from where she hid in a tree earlier to avoid something freaky. ]

I don't suppose you know where we are?

[vestments]

( marc has wilderness experience, but the majority of it has been in shitholes villages or shithole jungles or shithole deserts in some shithole, wartorn country he'd tried not to pay too much attention to. none of it's been TIME SPENT NAKED IN WEIRD, SPOOKY FOREST, but they're experiences that are more transferable than LARPing a dead kennedy's song.

the vague sense of relief at not being alone is displaced by the vague discomfort of someone — ten? or so, it's hard to tell — years younger than him, standing as naked as he is, in the middle of a clearing. against his better judgement, his gaze drops, just for a moment, then snaps back up — it's not difficult, she's not far off his height, and the corners of his lips quirk. )

Let's hope you haven't brushed against anything poisonous.

( bluntly, apropos nothing, but in reference to the scratches running up her legs. as for the rest of it— he glances away, back towards the river that's still entirely useless in ascertaining anything useful. the fact that she seems to know about as much as he does is noted and filed away for later. kidnapping? hallucination? drugging? who knows—. )

—Nope. ( a beat. ) But if we follow the river downstream, we'll hit civilisation. ( eventually. or the ocean. )

[carozer0]

Okay...

[ She sounds dubious, but it's more of a plan than she had three minutes ago. ]

What if it like, takes a while, though?

[ She looks the way he looked, her body language a mirror of his own as she comes closer. Shaping her expression into something a little more scared than she really feels, her hands empty and open. ]

I'm already kind of chilly. My nips are like diamonds right now.

[ Just calling attention to her lithe nudity all over again. He isn't her type, but he's probably much better at hunting or fishing or whatever, and bodily warmth is bodily warmth. ]

[vestments]

( "what if it takes a while?" earns an odd look, questioning, nose scrunching as if to say 'what?' as the question registers or — no, the question itself doesn't really register so much as caroline stepping closer into his space and announcing, apropos nothing, how hard her nipples are. he opts to skip past the remark even if his expression says he very much heard it (a FUCKING CHRIST— packaged in a frown), and he gestures with a hand, a little tense but entirely dismissive— )

We'll cross that bridge when we get to it.

( punctuated by a pause as he starts to turn back towards the river. a glance back towards her, then— ) —And if you're still cold and we still haven't found civilisation, luck would have it there are a few ways to keep warm in the wilderness. ( a beat; wryly, dryly— ) I learned all about them in the corps.

more woods

[missedith]

[His current walking companion seems incredibly unbothered by all of it. The nudity, his taciturn nature, the animal carcasses-- she may or may not have snagged a worm crawling out of an eyesocket, which she is currently playing with in between her fingers-- everything is met with calm indifference and with just the hint of a smile.

She turns her head at his curse. Drusilla's been watching him as they walk, possibly contemplating if she might try and eat him. Still, he's interesting. There's chaos in his blood. Lifting up the worm to stare at it, she coos softly. It's hard to say if she's talking to Marc or the worm.] They just like to watch, they've already had their snacks.

[vestments]

( objectively speaking, she's weird. marc had reached that conclusion fairly quickly and hasn't budged from it. it's fine, probably better than the alternative, given she's with him.

he hadn't commented on the worm — there'd been a face, though, a flash of a baffled frown, considering and uncertain, before he'd let her do as she wished. when she speaks, it earns little more than a glance, corners of his mouth curling down in displeasure. )

I don't think he's going to eat me, ( is the response, muttered, more grumpy than he might have intended, given to her and her remark. it's out of his mouth before he's really had time to think about it, before it quite occurs to him the implication of what she's said hits him. it should be relief, he thinks. it means it's not a HIM thing, that the creature-slash-being-slash-whatever is something that exists.

but given its existence is being (vaguely) confirmed by a woman talking to a worm, well—. )

[missedith]

Then why are so cross? [She lowers the worm, clutching it tighter in her hands, as she looks at him with her penetrating stare as she steps closer. She doesn't seem in the slightest put off by his demeanor. It doesn't seem like she cares one way or the other. Drusilla can see one of them again out of the corner of her eye, the skeletal creature observing but making no moves to get closer.]

How do you know it's a him? [She runs a finger over her bare collarbone thoughtfully.] All bones. Could be a she. Could be neither.