TEST DRIVE MEME 001

[rubimods]

⚰︎ ⍢ ⌲ ⍚ TEST DRIVE MEME:

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: nudity, spiders, waxplay, character death, and references to children in proximity to sexual situations.

✧ ✧ ✧

Welcome to RUBILYKSKOYE — a dark, horror-smut game where player choices will drive a mod-run storyline about the world and its NPCs. For the first round, this test drive serves as characters' arrival into game.

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.

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

AWAKENING IN PAJAK WOOD

The chirping of partridges in the treetops rouses you. Light barely filters through the canopy, just enough to suggest warmth of the sun. By the time it reaches the forest floor, the daylight has taken on a sickly green tinge. You lie amongst the mosses and ferns, the 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.

Fortunately, you seem to be alone. The birdsong continues 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. Amongst gnarled oaks and moss, you see nothing around. No sign of civilization or sentient life. Movement flickers at the corner of your eye, but it's just a curious animal — brave squirrels or lizards who have come to see what stirs in their home.

Then, like the rippling of the horizon at noontime, the ash-gray soil around you undulates. Sea, not earth. Something else has come to greet you — their grey bodies blended in so easily with the floor, but as you stagger to your feet, you see them. Thousands of spiders roll like waves underfoot. They crawl towards you from the darker edge of the forest.

attack

Individuals who attack the spiders will find the small spiders are easy to kill, but the pheromones released by their corpses draw larger spiders in their place. 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 will attempt to use their webbing to handicap 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.

FAQ: DEATH RULES

hunt

Any aspiring monster-hunters enterprising enough to try to follow the spiders to their nest will move eastward. This way, the forest grows darker and darker — though the sun never grows warm red-gold with sunset.

In the void, the birdsong is replaced by the click of mandibles and the skitter of many legs, but soon it is impossible to see. Even with the brightest magical light does not reach further than a few inches. The air grows heavy and thick, 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. Soon, you cannot move at all.

Turn back while you still can — collapsing out here is dangerous. The void can play tricks on your senses. You may find yourself reliving unhappy memories or hallucinating your worst nightmares.

SETTING: THE VOID

But flee the spiders westward and you will discover that the wood is well-populated with the survival resources that someone might seek — berries bushes and trees bearing stone fruits; sticks and dry leaves to aid in the building of a fire; rocks big enough to fashion into crude weapons; small animals that can be hunted or caught; hike long enough, and you might just find the freshwater stream that runs north-to-south, populated by both poisonous toads and delicious crawdads.

What's more, you may run into others with stories just like yours. Some may have already formed clumsy nudist hiking parties, others may still be naked and confused and processing how they have no memory of how they got here. They all stagger vaguely, as you do, with only the sun for a waymarker — and even that won't last long.

Now is a good time to overcome any hang-ups you have about modesty, as it's going to be a long hike. If you sneak a good look at your new companions, you may four varietals of marks on their bodies. Maybe someone will even point out that you have one, too.

FAQ: CURSE MARKS

EVERY DAY LIKE THE ONE BEFORE

Hike far enough — or long enough that the sun does go down — and signs of life come into view. The glow of fires and lights, the smooth curve of a stone wall. A town sits at the edge of this wood, a reward to the survivors.

The fifty-foot wall of beige stone protecting the town's perimeter has only a single entrance — an iron gate positioned on the southern edge. When you arrive, the gate is already open, welcoming people into town from the winding dirt road. Attentive eyes may note that the road itself bears the mark of many wagon wheels and horse hoofs, but not cars.

guards

The guards grant entry to anyone who attempts a conversation with them. However, if your character is more likely to attempt to sneak in, overcome the guards, or attack them, please reach out HERE.

Inside the wall lies a quaint, historic town with a population around five thousand. The streets are cobbled, and their signs are 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 bank — 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.

No matter what time you pass through the gate, the streets are full of people. The climate of the bustle befits a night market or a busy friday downtown — plenty of people to ogle at your exposed body. But despite any efforts on your part to hide or make excuses, the locals don't seem offended by your nakedness. Even families with children don't gawk or look twice. In fact, the further into town you go, the more you may notice that they all wear revealing clothing that, to your sensibilities, may seem sexually suggestive. Some individuals openly expose their breasts and nipples, while some others may incidentally reveal when they turn around to tend to their errands that their dress is backless — entirely! If anything, they seem to be under the impression that you're naked to participate in the evening's events with the rest of them.

Those still determined to find proper clothing will find that modern clothing stores aren't a thing here. The closest this town has is a tailor's shop, which is closed for religious observance, and a stand in the central marketplace selling scarves and blankets.

Fortunately, the people of the town are very generous! The locals will gladly share what they have with those who ask politely — but those items are as revealing as what they're wearing. You might get a mesh bodysuit or drape outfit. Remember not to be ungracious! it's only appropriate for the occasion.

steal clothing

Anyone unwilling to ask nicely for help could break into someone's house or yard to steal some of their clean laundry. Notably, inside their homes, the people of the town also appear to own some more modest apparel. Be sure to alert us HERE if your character pursues this option.

SETTING: CRIME

And what is the occasion? The locals are excited and flattered by any interest in their ordinary weekly prayer: the folks dancing and selling their wares are all offering their energies to give thanks and ask for their god's patronage! The abstractions are all familiar — fertility, harvest, peace. Smalltalk makes them eager to chat and draw you into those festivities — including some ceremonial wax-dripping on the exposed parts of your body!

Anyone who chats at length with the townspeople will gather that the locals feel it's better for the newcomers to dive into the deep-end because, since you'll be settling in here, they expect you'll want to participate down the line. They seem to be under the impression that the new arrivals are a boon from their god.

In addition, many of the locals' choice of clothes reveal the same four types of marks on their bodies as the folx who were wandering out in the wood!

ROOM AND BOARD

Once you're tired out, the locals will help you find a place to stay. The boarding house is several stories tall and spacious, accessible through an embellished iron garden gate and obscured by hanging plants, trees, and vines. Beyond the overgrown yard is a bright red door, which opens into a spacious cottage.

The house has clearly been empty for some time — dust has gathered on various furnishings — bedding, sofas, curtains, wooden tables. According to the locals, it has remained empty since its last occupant passed away, and that's all they'll say about that!

Each floor of the house has a shared sitting room, but only the first floor has a kitchen — large enough to support feeding the entire household. Here, a few of the townspeople will help out — they stock the kitchen and help make dinner for the new arrivals.

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.

Comments

lottie person | snotgirl

[oomfies]

1. skinny dipping

[ Running into someone else naked, alone, by the way — in the woods, also naked, by the way — was arguably even more terrifying than the spiders. Spiders leave you alone if you don't get in their way, but people? People can do anything. Desperate people will do anything.

(This explains why she latched onto the first person she met so quickly, once it was established that no killing was going to happen that night. No one will find her body in the woods rotting by her lonesome.)

It's remarkably impressive, just how quickly you get over issues about being naked when you have to figure out how to survive. The first few hours she was scrambling for modesty, for any leaf big enough to splay on her lap or her chest. Then night fell, and the cold came with it. She was very quick to forgo the leaves and huddle against another body, because warmth is scarce and she is so desperate to take. And, over time, very desperate to give, as she became increasingly reminded of how little she could do.

She's well aware of how difficult it is to help her survive — she's a normal person who had her groceries habitually delivered to her house. Lottie doesn't know how to hunt, to gut things or kill. But she knows how to clean wounds, is especially sensitive to temperature by happenstance of her medical issues (all of which is thriving in the forest, making her nose and cheeks red from constant sniffling). ]

You know, there was a show I'd see playing all the time that kinda reminds me of this.

[ She mentions (says, really, to get a conversation going) as she wades in the cold — so very fucking cold — waters of the river she's managed to steer the both of you into. 'Please, can we just bathe or something,' she insisted, entirely an excuse to feel normal and to prove that she isn't as useless as she feels. The current isn't that strong, more of a pleasant push against her skin as she ducks down beneath the water, enough to get shoulder deep. Her hair is held in a tight ponytail by her own hand, the mark of the diabel emblazoned on her wrist, along with a blatant unwillingness to get her hair wet just yet despite how dirty it is. ]

2. small town living

a. [ Despite having spent a good chunk of her time here naked, Lottie is honestly only scandalized by just how.. So very not naked everyone is?! She lifts up something that resembles strings moreso than clothing (she thinks she's seen bikinis like this, once upon a time), huffing out: ]

God. Honestly.. Why even bother?

[ Whether you traveled into town with her from the very Bear Grylls-esque venture of your lives, or you just saw what she had going for her (ten billion pieces of clothing, amassed from begging locals for help) and decided to sift through it yourself, it doesn't matter. Lottie is vaguely irritated about all of this, but friendly enough despite it to toss said garment your way to see if you'd want it. ]

b. [ She's slapped an outfit together that, miraculously, manages to cover all the important bits (barely, barely, because it is just a sparkly and sheer piece of fabric that is called a 'dress' that she dons, but— beggars can't be choosers). However, she's still showing a fair amount of skin, which means she is cold. Cold enough to look some type of way at the candles every local seems to be walking around with — ]

Since when is wax holy?

[ She says aloud, mostly to herself but partly to you — someone close by or someone who has decided people watching is fun, too — sounding like she isn't entirely buying this is strictly for 'praying' purposes. ]

3. room and board

[ It's a few days in to settling with this new life ('settling' is used so loosely it's painful, really) that she finds herself stepping out into the communal kitchen late one night. She's clad in a night gown, a faint pink dyed onto the fabric — it's thin, but comfortable enough for her to lounge in as she sips at her tea through a chipped mug. It's silent, but pleasantly so, until she catches the sound of someone walking in.

It's hard not to, when the only thing that's existed so far is her occasional grunt, the odd 'ow!' from her attempts at patching a garment up in a room that is barely lit. She looks up at you through candlelight, clearly someone she recognizes — either because you're her roommate, or because she's seen you around generally, it doesn't matter — if her expression is anything to go by.

There's a beat where she mulls over whether to say something, before she blurts out— ]

Hey! [ A beat. ] ..Want one?

[ A cup, she means. ]

wildcard
[ feel free to pm or hit me up at snottie if you want to do something in specific. or hit me with whatever you'd like! i'm easy 💕 ]

3

[machonacho]

[It takes Nacho a bit to pull himself together after an embarrassing little crying session up in one of the rooms. His eyes are still a bit pink and puffy when he makes his way down to the communal area. He's seen the green-haired girl here and there; she's easy to recognize. When she calls out to him, he settles down on a nearby chair, drumming his fingers on the arm of it.]

...Tea or coffee? [Either way, he could probably use something to drink before he gets too dehydrated and ends up with an even bigger headache than the one he had right before he woke up here.]

[oomfies]

[ If she notices how puffy and pink his eyes are, she doesn't say anything. She'd really have no right to, either way, having spent a majority of her own free time curled under her blankets and thinking— panicking? Feeling anxious. Lottie thinks it's a delayed response to her time out in the woods. She, also, thinks it's annoying.

(It's partly the reason why she's even up this late. Inability to sleep and a stubborn refusal to use her brain.) ]

Uh, tea. [ The drum of his fingers is pleasant, the right volume to not be too intrusive in the silence she's wallowed in. And then, after a beat, she eases her way out of the chair towards a cupboard— ] I'm not used to how strong the coffee is here, yet? Felt like a bad idea to make some..

[ She says, fully knowing there is still caffeine in the tea she's been sipping. ]

[machonacho]

Tea is fine. [He scrubs a hand over his face.] I mean, you don't have to-- I can get it. Just don't know where it is.

[He's not trying to be incompetent, he swears. He's just dealt with a lot today.]

[oomfies]

[ Lottie doesn't know how to convey that she's been there (anxiety ridden, tired). Arguably, is still there. Maybe, will always be there. She isn't sure if he can see her expression, that lets him know so, all too well from this distance, but after a beat she goes, ]

Cups and mugs are usually right here. The top one like.. To the left of the stove, if you're facing it?

[ She says, as she opens said cupboard. Fumbles around for something that feels like a mug. ]

For next time.. [ A pause. ] I was the one that offered.

small town living

[songquips]

[ ever an admirer of the human form, jaskier isn't all that bothered by the nudity around him. except when he gets sight of someone that'd be better off wearing something closer to a potato sack than the strings doing nothing to cover what would be considered unmentionables in polite company.

jaskier isn't polite company, no, but he can fake it.

he stops as he sees the young woman with her pile, frustrated by the options before her.

jaskier can relate, in a sense. it's cold and the mesh excuse for a shirt is doing nothing for that. neither are the shorts that offer little more coverage. he tilts his head, as if in thought before offering wise words. ] Probably for scandal of it all? The whole 'I'm doing something naughty' sense of it all.

[ except, actually, no one really cares so it's definitely not that. ]

[oomfies]

[ Jaskier looks.. Not experienced, per se, but comfortable enough in all this for Lottie to decide that waiting to hear his opinion is definitely worth it. He must have some kind of perspective she doesn't, obviously! Maybe she'll understand this all better? Her expression promptly falls when he finally parts his lips and speaks, and she just groans. Buries her face in her hands, muffles something that suspiciously sounds like a scream, because— ]

It's not—

[ Her voice pitches high at the end, tapers off before she forces it down to a reasonable level (a local has swung their head in their direction, is why). ]

It's not 'naughty' if everyone is being naughty. It's just.. [ A wave of her hand, ] Normal!

[songquips]

[ she --- does have a point. jaskier has to give her that, actually. he's not sure that he has a rebuttal for a moment, but that moment passes, fluttering away on quickly fluttering wings. ] Maybe it's normal to be naughty here?

Weekly fertility festival and all. [ he lifts a hand to wave in the direction of where the prayers were being held. ] Maybe the modesty is the naughty part, hm?

[ but then his expression softens a bit, like he's lowering the mask of nonchalance and acceptance. ] It might be more fruitful to use a blanket instead of the clothes if you want to cover up.

[oomfies]

[ Now it's her turn to stay silent, because.. Well, that makes sense. Modesty is the new immodesty, something something showing more is less. It's always how trends, even social norms, have worked.

She drops her chin in the palm of her hand in defeat, a pout to her lips right as his expression softens. And at his suggestion, she openly withers, because she does. She so very badly wants to cover up now that it's actually an option that she can worry about clothes instead of 'what new infection can I get from this weird thing that cut me'. ]

No one is going to give me a blanket with [ It might be the bane of her existence now, but she at least sounds mildly amused, despite it all, when she parrots back: ] you know, the weekly fertility festival. No one has given me one.

small town living - b;

[somatosensory]

Hasn't anyone told you it's rude to judge other cultures?

( it's said with a tone of genial reproach, while aristaeus picks off flakes of wax from his shoulder. he's a big guy; it had taken some creativity for the person to reach that high.

the skin around the wax is still a little pink, but maybe that's just the fact that it's freezing and he's still almost entirely naked? )

[oomfies]

[ He is a big guy — something that Lottie belatedly figures out when she turns and, hm, doesn't see a face. Is actually just a little below eye level where he picks at his shoulder, the skin still flushed. She makes a noise of surprise, half because he's playfully reprimanding her and half from the lack of clothing on him (this is ridiculous, she thinks, she's been naked in the woods for who knows how long and now she's shy?!). ]

I-I don't mean to be rude..

[ Of course a hot person would catch her Extreme Judgement™ (because she was indeed being rude, no ifs ands or buts about it)!! So Lottie does what she does best: backpedals. ]

I just don't get it, is all!

[somatosensory]

( look, in his defence it's not like they carry a lot of ponchos in his size. not that there had been too many offers.

and, honestly, he'll take the cold over the arid bite of the soundless wilds any day. )

Oh, it's total bullshit. ( to be clear. there was absolutely zero sincerity in that earlier remark. ) But if your day's been anything like mine, I wouldn't go offending the locals out of hand. People tend to take that shit personally.

[oomfies]

[ Honestly — fair. Lottie even had her own brief crisis on whether staying naked would be the same as wearing whatever the hell is in fashion (it is, she's come to realize). ]

They'd get mad at me?

[ She stops fretting over being mindful of where her gaze is — something fairly simple when she has to angle her head up so much to meet his gaze, because he just presented a bigger problem. He actually has a point. But.. The locals wouldn't do anything, would they? Lottie's eyes turn to anxiously look over the festival goers, thinking so hard it's almost palpable. ]

They wouldn't get mad at me.. Would they?

1

[sunmon]

Like a play?

[ truthfully, alina is glad for the company. it makes her miss mal a little bit less. it makes her focus more on how to get by in the wilderness, and recall her army training, and less about if he's alright, or if he got snatched up by fjerdan trackers, or —

well, any of it. it helps her just be here, in this moment, because there's someone with her to keep her out of her head. ]

What was the story. [ she's trying to get a fire together, right now. this has never been alina's best survival instinct. mal was the one who lit fires and hunted game. alina hiked and drew and oriented them. ]

[oomfies]

[ Is a reality TV show a play? Her brows twist up for a moment in pure contemplation, before she decides: ]

Kind of.

[ Not really, but Lottie can pretend it is for Alina's sake. If it means she'd understand what she's talking about, where she's going with this, absolutely. She twists her hair up and tries to tuck it into a shoddy little bun, limp as it is, so she can sit in the shallow part of the water to watch her. ]

It was about a group of people who got dumped out in the woods, naked and afraid.

[ A purposeful pause. ]

You'll never guess what it was called, by the way.

[sunmon]

'In the Woods'?

[ a guess, but it sounds appropriately theatrical, doesn't it?

she's wondering now, though, if all the actors got up on stage properly naked for their performances of it. how many townships would that troupe get run out of? ]

[oomfies]

[ Huh. 'In the Woods' is actually way better than what it's actually called? Probably sounds like it'd be a better show, really. Now she feels a little lame following that up with something a little too on the nose for their own situation: ]

'Naked and Afraid'.

1

[ragnarsson]

[Ivar had been pretty much like any other teenage boy when confronted with an attractive naked woman in the middle of the woods: struck dumb at first. His total experiences with naked women up close and personal was a grand total of one time and that hadn't ended well for him. Eventually, he recovered enough of his sense to realize teaming up was better than going it alone.

It was a bit amusing to find out he was the more experienced one between the two of them when it came to the woods. Even though he wasn't able to walk and his main mode of transportation at the moment was crawling, he still had experience with surroundings like this. He'd always insisted going along with his brothers when they hunted in the woods despite his disability and knew enough to track game, set snares, and generally find edible plants. He'd also created a crude stone knife so that he didn't feel so off-balance. Having a weapon close at hand was natural for the Norse teen.

When night fell and the two of them had to get close for the pragmatic reason of not catching hypothermia, his brain just about short-circuited. He couldn't even think of anything to say until she suggested getting clean. Contrary to the stereotype of the dirty peasant from the Dark Ages, the Norse were actually fastidiously clean compared to the English or French, bathing often and making sure they didn't end up grimy. He'd agreed.

While he couldn't get into the water for the pragmatic reason of being unable to stand, he sat on the shore and used a smooth stone to gently scrape across his skin as he splashed some water on himself while Lottie bathed.]

A show? Like a story?

[He asked, feeling better now that he was a bit clean. Besides, he'd accumulated a number of scrapes, scratches, and bruises pulling his body across the ground, and it felt good to wash them out.]

[oomfies]

I mean.. Technically? It starts off as a premise for a story, I guess?

[ She's lying, because she really just wants to spitball and talk about something stupid. Wants to just pretend that she's discussing trashy television with Ivar like they aren't naked in the woods, with no recollection of how they got here, no memory of why their things were taken. Really, in a way she also considers this the bare minimum of what she should do, since there's so much she can't.

She's a city girl through and through, with a frail body and terrible health— she's barely able to endure a normal sunny day, let alone camping, or glamping, or actually surviving in the woods. Ivar has shown he can do all of those and more (well, she's assuming he could do glamping, she doesn't think he would? But if he wanted to?? She knows he could), has prompted her to follow after him like a lost puppy. He has seen her fumble at being 'useful' more times than he could probably count (read: how many times she's almost ate something poisonous), and despite the fact he's shouldering on more than he should? He's decided he doesn't mind her presence. She wears this like an absurd badge of honor— ]

It's like a competition show where people have to "survive" and do challenges to win money. [ She remarks with a wry sort of twist to her lips, idly watching him as she lets her hair fall, arm already aching from supporting it. She relaxes just as much as he does as he works at cleaning himself, scraping water onto his skin and into those cuts on his frame.

(She's been obscenely paranoid about how many he must've accumulated, scratches and bruises to boot, from his crawling — because bugs. Infections. Bleeding. Splinters. And while there's nothing they can do to change the terrain of the forest, she's at least glad they're managing this.)

She splashes some of that water onto her face, gasping at the temperature that makes her jolt the tiniest bit more awake. The long ends of her hair hit the water quickly, some of the green dye oozing out of the strands and into the river the longer she lets it stay wet. She blinks her eyes a couple of times in an attempt to get the water out of them — ]

It's been going on for like, years.

[ragnarsson]

[Ivar grinned in amusement at the idea of such a contest. It sounded ridiculous to him. But things must have been far different where Lottie was from given what he'd already been able to infer after spending time with her. He watched as some of the dye left her hair when it was soaked in the water with fascination. He hadn't known hair could be turned such a color by any means. It wasn't something women tended to do in his time period, either with natural or more unnatural colors, given how expensive something like dye could be.]

If one was to be rewarded for mere survival with riches, I would be the wealthiest person in Kattegat by now.

[Look, it was better to make light of the situation than to sit around and freak out about the conditions they'd found themselves in. At least Ivar knew what he was doing. He'd gone on enough hunting trips with his brothers to know how to get through the woods intact. Knowing things like which plants were edible, how to make weapons, and how to make a fire certainly were coming in handy right now.

He started to feel better now that he was getting the dirt, sweat, and blood off of him. When didn't a bath make everything just a little bit nicer?]

If we keep following the river, we should run into someone else eventually.

[In Ivar's time, people always congregated by the nearest source of water, whether that was a river, lake, or the ocean. Water provided life and possibilities for people, especially the Norse as they continued to explore further and further in both directions. Even if there was no town, they'd be bound to bump into a farm or random home someone had built along the river's edge.]

[oomfies]

[ Similarly, Lottie has been able to put two and two together that Ivar definitely isn't from Los Angeles. The easier giveaways: his voice — their accents are so astronomically on two ends of completely different spectrums, and key her into the geographical differences between them. The way he talks, is another.

The harder ones: uhhh, where the hell is Kattegat?? Nowhere in California, that's for sure. Knowing that people are at the end of a river? Having easy access to water (in any capacity, whether it be a hot tub or the ocean) has made her a little blind to common sense, which means she can either chalk up his statement to his survival prowess (likely) or experience (also, likely). Ultimately, she settles on both because regardless of the reason, he's probably right. And Lottie certainly isn't going to argue against logic, not when it'd mean more people and safety. ]

Cool! Cool.. I'm totally cool with that.

[ There's a nod, with Lottie wishing she could add some good commentary for their strategy but finds herself at a blank. Truly, whatever Ivar wants to do, she'd be more than fine with. If he thinks sitting their asses on the biggest rock they can find would be beneficial she'd probably — well, she'd be really weird about it, but she'd do it. With only, like, minimal complaining.

It's a few curious beats after that does she pipe up again, hands busying themselves with slicking her bangs back. They slow in movement as she starts, ]

Is —

[ Then pauses. Spends the next moment staring curiously, intensely, towards him with her mouth hanging slack. It becomes obvious what she's puzzling over when she continues: ] Erm, Kattegat.. [ The name absolutely sits weird on her tongue, and it's clear Lottie is aware of how strange (maybe, goofy??) it sounds coming out of her mouth, because she's cringing to herself quietly. ] Near one?

Like, a river?

1.

[unconscionable]

[ Bodies are just bodies; after so long alive, with an understanding of them to a cellular level, John is comfortable enough in his own that the nudity aspect doesn't bother him. Except — that doesn't take into account how he feels about seeing other people naked. Especially when that person is young and beautiful.

He does his best not to look, not to be a total creep: survival is what's paramount, and while he's hardly an expert in the wilderness aspect his necromancy keeps them safe from threats, brings them meat, and he's willing enough to do the work of starting a fire or building a shelter for the two of them. And maybe, just maybe, the reason why he doesn't complain about doing all the work is because Lottie is really hot.

That and it's kind of fun to talk to someone who remembers Earth as it was before, uh, everything that happened. Before he happened. ]

"Naked and Afraid", right? Binged that during postgrad. Didn't think I'd be living it.

[ John has a kiwi accent to go with his maori heritage, though it's mutated a little over the years. He's chilling on a rock, immodest, legs crossed, watching for threats and, potentially, fish. Definitely not watching her, the line of her arms stretched over her head as she holds her hair up. ]

Worried the green'll wash out?

[ Okay, he's maybe looking a little. ]

I can fix it in there if that helps.

[ He did it for Mercy, once, changed the follicle to grow pink for her forever. ]

[oomfies]

[ Really, the whole magic thing was kind of weird at first. But Lottie's willingness to ignore just about anything that will send her spiraling into a breakdown is immense (after all, the spiders — we won't ever talk about the spiders).

So immense, in fact, that she's circled back to just feeling thankful that John hasn't send her ass to the curb yet for how hilariously little she contributes. Sometimes she wonders if it's even worth offering to help because there's so much he can do, so much she doesn't even know yet— ]

Huh?

[ —and sometimes, she wonders if he can hear her thoughts or something with how easily he can read her (or if she's just that obvious?!). First "Naked and Afraid", now her hair? She looks up at him, catches him sneaking a peek at her from his perch atop that rock. For their time together, she's made sure to keep her gaze respectful — it's the least she can do considering he's the one taking care of her — but it hasn't been easy. Their lack of time dedicated to struggling to survive means she has plenty to spare on herself, on him. Mainly, his pretty face and his voice.

And okay, she snuck one curious glance at his ass, but c'mon? It's right there??

So she feels alright with him looking down at her long enough to catch what she's doing, how delicately she treats the one blatant reminder of home: her stupidly expensive dye job. She runs her fingers through those strands, easing her arms down to rest against her chest as she combs her hair. Looks down at the green getting caught in her nails, then back up at him. ]

..Like, permanently? You can do that?

[unconscionable]

Sure.

[ He sounds pretty pleased with himself, actually, because he'd almost forgotten how good it felt, that initial disbelief tinged with hope as he offered the impossible.

—Though back in the day he was curing cancer, drumming up a little cult full of grateful survivors. Mercymorn had been spending hundreds of dollars a month keeping her black hair a soft peach shade, and she was one of his best friends, so he'd taken a break from the healer gig to do that for her, but it had seemed frivolous.

But pretty Lottie, she doesn't have cancer, and even if she did he's reluctant to end up in the position he was back then, all of his time spent fixing other people's problems, an endless line of tragedies only he could avert, the feel-good altruism souring after a few weeks of sleeplessness. So he won't mention that he might also be able to help with her allergies. Let her stay all breathless and eye watering and reliant on him.

He beckons to her to come swim a little closer to his rock. Lips curling, somewhere between predatory and flirtatious. ]

Yeah, if you want it to grow that shade forever, that's definitely in my wheelhouse. If you don't mind me playing with your hair.

[oomfies]

[ He says 'sure' and, at first, Lottie is convinced that's really all he'll say.

But then his smile twists and curls into something she can't quite read, that only somehow manages to feed into the twinge of hope curling in her belly because he looks so self assured? He can't be lying to her? And it'd be easier, washing her hair, if it meant not worrying about how it'd fade away and she'd be a golden coppery blonde rather than brown..

Her hands gradually come to a crawl, the way they comb at her hair. There's a few measured beats following that gesture, the curl of his lips and casual suggestion of 'growing that shade forever'. She highly doubts she'll stay green forever, but green right now is everything she wants, and who is she to deny him giving her that? Especially when he is looking at her, like that?

Eventually, she wades through the water over to him, doe eyes flickering his way every so often until they settle on his frame. At first, she only lets her fingers curl and linger at the edge of his rock, with her face exposed from the eyes up, into view. Then, she hoists herself up to the elbows, 'til they dig into the surface of the rock. She stares for a moment, feels her cheeks warm because this close she is yet again reminded, he is wearing no clothing (her, too, but she is mostly obscured by rock while he is there before her). She clears her throat, ]

..Uh, okay. Go ahead?