Test Drive (December & January)

[sixthiteration]

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Test Drive

→ Holds and applications are always open. Holds are required for all applications.

→ Choose one of the scenarios below or make up your own. Feel free to try multiple scenarios.

→ Write LOGS or NETWORK prompts, or both.

→ THERE ARE ONLY THREE RULES FOR THE TDM:

1. It has to take place in the 6I universe.
2. It cannot be the character's arrival into the game.
3. Please only test new characters who do not have a version in the game. Our cast list is here.

→ TDM threads cannot be used to meet AC, but if the character is accepted into the game and both players agree, you may keep the CR.

→ Character want ads are here.

Prompts

1. SNOW BLIND - It's snowing, a lot, and pristine landscape though it might create, it also brings plenty of problems, especially when you live in an Edwardian-style village with a serious lack of snow shovels. It's currently blizzard conditions and visibility is nil — Maybe you gave in and ducked into the nearest house for temporary shelter, and discover someone else had the same idea (or just lives there, oops). Maybe you're stubborn enough to still be out in it, struggling against the wind and snow. Or maybe you've tromped into the South Village Inn like a human popsicle, and are just hoping you don't lose any fingers before you make it to the fireplace.


2. JUMPED-UP - Winter's here, which means it's the perfect time for an expedition to warmer, southern climes. You've joined a group following the river all the way down to the far southern beach, for fun and for science. On this latest break in your journey, you've spotted a large, jewel-colored feather and picked it up, maybe as a specimen to bring back or just a feather for your cap. Turns out it's an archaeopteryx feather, and you're now, well... let's call it a little gravity-challenged. Not a bad benefit once you figure out how to control it.


3. COLD CALL - The snow has slacked off, leaving behind a winter wonderland. Sure, there's plenty to do, but after being cooped up inside for days, most people won't blame you for a morale-booster — That is, unless your way of starting a snowball fight is to pop up and throw them at unsuspecting passers-by. Making a snow man or snow angels might come with a little less retribution, but you do you.


4. WILDCARD - Choose your own adventure. Maybe play powers roulette.

Network

All characters are fitted with a smart watch-like device on their left wrist, which they can use to send text and video messages to other villagers.

- Text and/or video, any length
- Display names may be changed by characters on the fly, but anyone can tap to see someone's real full name

Please list your CHARACTER NAME, CANON & PROMPT in your SUBJECT LINE.

Comments

Reeve Tuesti | Final Fantasy 7

[plate_builder]

Cold Call

The village was beautiful, covered with snow like it was. It dusted the trees, covered the paths, festooned the houses with a powdering of white that made a few evoke the idea of a gingerbread house. All of it was beautiful, soon to be moreso because between the sunlight and the cold temperatures there should be enough melt to soon festoon the houses and other buildings with icicles sparkling like a holiday garland. All of it was absolutely stunning and left Reeve with the urge to look up from his careful construction every few minutes just to revel in the beauty. Midgar could have used this sort of cleansing,a world made pure again with a blanket of cold.

But the main purpose of being outside was not to marvel at the snow, but to play in it. How long had it been since he was on an executive outing that had gained him a chance to play in the snow? There had been that trip to Icicle one year, a 'team building' thing the late President Shinra had devised, centered around skiing and snowboarding. Heidegger had stayed inside to drink with Scarlet, Palmer had broken a leg learning to ski, the President never left his room. It had felt like Reeve and Lazard were the only ones having fun. Well, them and the Turks. Why Reno had been compelled to turn everything into snow fights was beyond him. Today, though, Reeve could work in peace, crafting himself a nice little row not of snow men, but of snow Caits. Which, when he thought about it, were a lot like snowmen, but with cat ears on their heads and cat faces carved into them. He was currently working on a snow crown for the latest one. Too bad there wasn't a way to give it a cape.


Jumped Up

What an intriguing feather, he had thought. It would be a lovely thing to pick up, perhaps tie it to a string and find a feline to tease with it. Of course now he was the one being teased around, this time by a very serious issue of a more casual relationship with gravity. The physics of it didn't make sense to him, but that didn't matter so much as the fact that his feet were not on the ground.

For all that Reeve designed and delighted in the marvels of sky scrapers and towers and man made height, he perhaps had a bit of an issue with heights he hadn't had a very clear hand in creating himself. Which meant he was damn near panicking as he started trying to grab at any sort of foliage he could get his hands on as his body started raising higher and higher. Only about two feet off the ground and all sense of composure was missing.

"Help!" he called out, trying not to sound as panicked as he was. "Help please!"

[relentlessness]

Some have a fear of heights and some, it seems, have a fear of being connected to the ground. At least it may seem with those that perch themselves on rooftops, watching the world go by.

Or the world lift itself up to them.

Shifting to sit closer to the edge as he hears a voice calling, head canting as he watches someone lifting up towards him without seeming to try... or want to try.

"That's new," he murmurs, not hiding the amusement in his tones as he pushes off the roof, letting the gravity he still feels bring him to his feet with an easy grace and closing the distance between them.

"You eat something weird?"

He's heard of things like that though they haven't happened to him. Yet. It's only a matter of time, honestly.

chloe price | life is strange (crau)

[tagartist]

[ SNOWBLIND ]

Chloe hated winter. She hated the snow. The last time she'd seen snow, even, nothing good had come from it. Not on that stupid space station and definitely not in Arcadia Bay. Which is why she was trying to find her way out of it as quick as she could, not caring where that ultimately took her. She could be okay with a damned cave right about now if it meant not getting another face full of this frozen, white bullshit.

But a house seems like a much better idea and so she's going in through the first door that she comes by that's not locked. Ultimately what's important is getting warm again and so it doesn't matter whose house it is or what other people are inside. She's already making herself welcome once the door is closed by shaking the snow from her coat and boots.

Manners are not her strong suit.

[ COLD CALL ]

Sometimes, though, she can be persuaded to play in the snow no matter how shitty she finds it. Apparently when she's claustrophobic and needing to get outside is one of those times. Chloe has made herself busy by getting 1) a good pile of snowballs going for herself, just in case the need arises, such as a sneak attack and 2) attempting to build the world's largest snowman.

The attempt isn't going well, as she's realized that making the very large middle for her very large snowman is proving to be far too big for her scrawny arms to even dream of lifting. She's giving it her hardest try, though, which is why anyone passing by can hear a very exasperated, "Fuck you, Snow Bitch."

Trying isn't going very well at all.

[ NETWORK - TEXT - UN: miss blue ]

what did the scientist say when he found two atoms of helium?
what is the center of gravity?
what has branches and leaves but has no bark?

[[ OOC: chloe's got memories from the quiet place and lagun, but if you do not want her to recognize your character, please let me know, and I can work around it! ]]

snowblind

[oorah]

Frank never locks his door because: of course he doesn't. It's not like there are keys in this godforsaken place and what if someone needed something from him? It's a harkening back to his time as mayor more than anything else, no one's ever taken him up on his help here in any big way. Which is fine, it gives him more time to take care of his ever-growing pack of animals and of course, Kamala. By some miracle, he's even managed to get Jessica to move in temporarily while the weather is bad.

Before he can even make it out of the kitchen to see who it is (he honestly assumes Kamala in from the blizzard and doesn't rush for that reason), the dogs are swarming Chloe excitedly. At the front of the pack is a small but intensely friendly creature, followed closely by a lanky gray pitbull with a huge block head that he nudges into her side and the clear leader: a female bloodhound who brays to let Frank know it's a "stranger." Aretha still wants in on the love, almost knocking Chloe clean over as she tries to get her boots off.

Frank makes his way out of the kitchen unhurriedly, scratching behind the cat's ears as he makes his way past the couch she's draped over the whole top of. It's warm and cozy in here, electric lights in every room when every other house on the street is lit by candles alone. He isn't wearing shoes, the floorboards warmed by the stove in the cellar so that it's actually warmer without his boots indoors, dressed in an oversized hoodie and jeans only. His sleeves are rolled up so that she can see the bracelet he always wore in Reims: the handwoven leather a sharp contrast to the bright teal communicator on his opposite. There's also a small wooden necklace on a cord around his neck, the detail too far for her to see at a distance but there's a lightning bolt carved into the topside. Most notably of all is the rather impressive beard he's grown in the time between last seeing her, and it's apparent he hasn't cut his hair once either.

"How'd you make out, sweethear—" That is not Kamala, he registers, eyes widening as they meet Chloe's across the small entrance to the house. He's become used to, accustomed really, no one he recognizes remembering him. Jessica, Kamala and himself had all arrived in the Summer close together, but they're the only ones who remember Reims and everything that happened there. He generally accepts it as a mercy, no one should have to keep the memories of that place even if it meant they forgot everything they did for one another to survive. This place is nothing like that, people don't come together until it's too late, generally, though a few newcomers are trying to change that. Frank's just glad for anyone to do it but him.

There's a voice screaming that she won't remember, that he's going to ruin his second chance to get to know her, but he's just so relieved, closing the distance between them in two short strides and pushing dogs away so he can rest a heavy hand on her shoulder. And then, if she'll allow it, Frank pulls her in for a tight hug. There are already tears in his eyes before she's even reacted.

daniel "walking dumpster fire" cross | assassin's creed

[dyscrasia]

► SNOW BLIND

Homestly? The cold had never bothered Daniel much. It's not the worst weather he's been in-- blizzards are decidedly easier to swallow than hurricanes or torrential rain. Give him feet-thick snow over mud in his boots any day of the week. As it is, managed to trudge through the snow and make it to the South Village Inn. Swearing under his breath and giving zero fucks about people in his way as he tries to find somewhere warmer to be. A public place was better than risking being alone out in a place he still doesn't entirely understand. Sorry if you get shoved out of the way, but this cantankerous bitch is freezing and has no time for your shit.

Or maybe you catch him on the way there, who's to say? Just don't mind the fact that he's prissy and not in the mood.

► COLD CALL

What do you do when you've been clustered inside for days? If your Daniel, you actually spend it outside. Catching a breather, away from people, and he may not be doing much other than walking in a giant circle around the place to clear his head and figure out what he wants to do about all this, doesn't mean he isn't ripe for the picking. Just don't be surprised if he makes you pay for it.

► NETWORK [username: fuck this noise]

what's it take to get cigarettes around here?

► WILDCARD

Don't like any of the above? Write your own adventure! FYI: brackets or prose is fine, no style preference.

Text - un: FormerPilot | Nida - Final Fantasy (Sorry, it's to hard to resist)

[skyward_eyes]

Let's see. Acquire tobacco seeds. Grow the plants. Take care of them until they are harvest-able. Harvest. Prepare for consumption. Smoke?

irvine kinneas | final fantasy viii

[encourager]

☞ JUMPED UP

Irvine Kinneas was decidedly not particularly pleased with himself! what with letting his curiosity get the better of him. At the time, it had seemed innocent enough. Who knew, maybe someone would want it for trade. Maybe it'd just be something interesting to hang onto. Either way, he hadn't thought too much about it when picking it up.

Picking it up ended up with physics inverting, and a mad scrabble in the middle of the air until he let it go and found something to cling to. Mainly a convenient tree, pack falling to the ground from the flailing and thrashing.

"What could be the worst, I said. It'll be fine, I said," Irvine muttered to himself, perched on a thick branch; the only branch he'd been able to get a hold of.

A branch very far up. A branch Irvine didn't entirely trust trying to get off of in order to start climbing just yet. All the evidence of anyone even being up there in the first place being Irvine's pack in the snow and his muttering, of course.

☞ COLD CALL

Now that the snow had finally let up, it was the perfect chance to do something Irvine had been needing to do since he'd gotten to this place-- get some practice in with the new bow he'd checked out from the Inn. He knows how to use one, it just isn't his speciality a lot of the time, and the more practice, the better.

And that's where people can find Irvine. With some targets he's slapped together and largely out of the way of people as a whole. He'd rather no one get hurt by accident. His shots are fairly decent for being out of practice, getting better and better, form excellent.

Feel free to come join him-- Irvine will be perfectly glad to chat or even give lessons.

☞ WILDCARD

None of these your style? Go ahead and make up your own!

Jumped Up | Nida Here

[skyward_eyes]

Coincidence was a thing, right? Because coincidence was on his afternoon run around town, trying to keep himself as fit as he could without proper training facilities. Sure, it was cold and sure he hated the cold, but you did what you had to do, right?

Anyway, coincidence was a thing, because Nida slowed down, pausing to rub his gloved hands together and breathe on him just under the right tree. Doing so made his head tilt down, another coincidence, one which let him see the pack. Not even neatly taken off, just... fallen. Weird. And the looking at the pack meant standing still long enough for him to hear something. Weirder. And then Nida was looking up. Weirdest of all. Some idiot stuck up a tree. Clearly stuck because they were cursing.

Well, what else was all that practice for, he wondered to himself. With a sigh Nida started up the tree. Good news for Irvine was that, when it came down to it, Nida was good at climbing. Not as good as their 'Assassin' residents, but good.

"You okay up there?" he called as he jumped easily from one branch to another before scrambling to a third. High up, but he'd make it.

Snow Blind

[plate_builder]

To be completely fair, Reeve had not noticed the other man enter. Or the blizzard. Or even the sound of the antelope dogs until one was sniffing at his coat. Only then did the man look away from his clearly enraptured study of the construction of a fireplace that took up part of the room, his fingers brushing over the stone like he was trying to memorize it. But the curious creatures caught his attention smiled down at the beasts, lowering a hand for them to sniff. If they behaved vaguely dog like, he would have to assume that they too would have a bit of a scent fixation.

The voice made him look to Snake. A brief glance as he looked over the man, and strangely enough, he didn't seem to even linger over the metal hand. Being friends with Vincent had helped him tune such things out. Instead he was focusing on other things, the scars, the age, the build. Experienced. A soldier or someone who lived in the less civilized areas, if he had to be a judge of it.

"You need not worry. This is neither my home nor that of any other. Well, unless that is that you were planning on making it yours. If that is the case I would only need about another ten minutes to finish up and then I will be out of your way."

Clearly the man was unaware of the blizzard outside.

kate bishop | marvel 616

[hawkwhy]

SNOW BLIND

[ the doors to the south village inn swing open to a flurry of ice and snow not unlike the great beginning to a great adventure flick, though our particular hero of the story looks like she's seen better days. nose bright red enough to give rudolph a run for his money, and eyes so half-lidded they look like they weigh as heavy as her steps are as she drags her sorry ass over towards the (hopefully blazing) fire in the main foyer.

she plunks herself down right in front of the fireplace and leans into perhaps a little too closely for most people's comfort, but kate's sort of working on absolutely zero comfort right now, so it all probably breaks even. she doesn't seem to notice anybody else around her, silently working on thawing out until, after what seems like ages, she lets out a loud, pathetic sniffle. ]

Never thought I'd say this, but I miss L.A.

[ talk about your lowest of lows. ]

JUMPED UP

[ so there you were, going about your merry way, minding your own business, maybe trying to be like all the other rational people and heading down south somewhere warmer. whatever the reason, as soon as you happen to stop relatively long enough for a random woman to, say, get the jump on you... she gets the jump on you.

in that suddenly there is a curtain of long dark hair and a very upside-down kate bishop (who may or may not be a little blue in the face for having been upside down for a while, or maybe it's just the altitude) cheerfully greeting you: ]

Hey. 'Sup. Please don't freak out.

NETWORK (un: the.hawkeye)

k
cool
so we can send fancy shmancy text messages on futzing HOLOGRAMS
but i cant blowdry my hair without risking burning my whole head off?
i call bs

NOTE: feel free to hmu with prose! i will adjust to match c:

Re: kate bishop | marvel 616

[plate_builder]

[Well, that is an amusing bit of language, but what can you do about it?]

I find the best way to think about it is that we have the privilege of being able to stay in contact when in danger.

Ubbe Ragnarsson | Vikings

[valdyr]

[ For sake of ease, Ubbe speaks English, though slowly and with an accent. We'll say he's been there long enough to have learned from someone. ]

[ Snowblind ]

Ubbe was no stranger to extreme conditions. No matter the season, if a wind came into Kattegat from the fjord it was a cold one. Fierce snowstorms were also not foreign to him but his people knew the signs that meant it was on its way. Here, however, it seemed to hit with very little warning. And he was caught several miles from the southern village when it did.

Huddled into the fur he was wearing, the second son if Ragnar Lothbrok trudged knee deep through the snow (in some areas) not knowing for certain if he was actually heading in the right direction. He was good at tracking and remembered what his father taught him, even though it all felt like instinct.

Eventually, he came by a wooden structure and once inside, wasn't sure if the place belonged to someone else. Truth be told, he didn't care. Ubbe needed a place to get warm and that was where he planned to do it. Especially since there was a fire already going.

He moved quickly towards it, holding out his hands to receive its warmth.


[ Cold Call ]

Throwing snow at his brothers? Sure, he'd done it plenty of times. They'd even stepped up the game by hunting each other in the woods not far from home while they were meant to be checking the traps they set out.

But falling backwards into the snow and moving one's arms and legs in and out was.. nothing Ubbe had ever seen before and that much showed in the odd stare he was giving to the person doing it.

Snowblind

[thekittenqueen]

Her stock of firewood had been dwindling during the months, overused because of her fear of the cold and desire to keep a fire going nearly at all times. The small pile by the fireplace was nearly gone, anticipating how much she would need during the night, Margaery slipped outside to collect more, gathering them in her arms.

She had bundled herself in her cloak, but it didn't do very much to ward off the sharp wind, turning her cheeks and nose red. By the time she returned, she was feeling practically frozen. She was so quick to get back inside that she didn't notice the looming figure by her hearth. When finally she turned to deposit her bounty by the fire, she finally noticed him, tall and large.

Her heart stopped in her chest, uncertain at first, having never seen the man before. She stood straighter, trying to mask her fear with cool regard. "What are you doing here?"

Connor | Detroit: Become Human

[youcantkillme]

SNOW BLIND

Snow by itself didn’t mean anything to him. It was only unpleasant because of the cold associated with it; not because he had preferences or dislikes, of course, but because it meant something was wrong. The Zen Garden simulated a temperate climate, there was no need for its atmosphere to change. The fact that it had, and in a way that matched the ice of her disapproval… He was doing something wrong.

Connor shook his head, wrapping his arms around himself and squinting hard. That shape up ahead could be a building, or it could also be another copse of trees. At this point his navigation was hopelessly overwhelmed, and whatever it turned out to be, anything was better than standing out in the open. Connor pushed on towards it, face bowed against the wind, until he finally found himself in front of a door. There was faint light coming through the windows—someone must be home. Connor knocked.

… No immediate response. None he could hear over the wind, anyway. Connor looked around, but he couldn’t see anything, let alone any neighbors he could go towards instead. Pressing his lips together, he knocked again.

And kept knocking. And knocking.

… Sorry, whoever it is. He’s going to keep knocking until someone answers.

COLD CALL

He’s a state of the art android made with superb reflexes and excellent balance. Snow, on the other hand, is treacherous, and hides things. He doesn’t see the rock underfoot, doesn’t realize it’s there until he’s standing on it and it shifts suddenly, pitching him over to the side. Connor has just enough time to make a startled sound, throwing his arms out to catch himself. Too bad for the person he was passing that this means shoving them away. He didn’t have time to see where he pushed them: it could be into a snowdrift, into the snowman they were building, into a tree… Pushing them at all was unacceptable, but he doesn’t have time to think about it. He falls despite his best efforts, landing face-first.

>RK800 313-248-317-52 – Status: Prone.
>RK800 313-248-317-52 – Cause: Inadequate Response to Unforseen Obstacle.
>RK800 313-248-317-52 – Recalibrate Gyroscopes 2 and 13.
>RK800 313-248-317-52 – Initiate Recalibration? [Y,N]

Connor banishes the commands, pushing himself up immediately. The snow is clingy enough that he’s covered in it, and he has to spit some out before he can talk.

“Are you alright?”

WILDCARD

[OOC: Suggest something, and I’ll run with it! Brackets and prose are both fine, I’ll match however you start.]

Connor-60 | Detroit Become Robots

[313_248_317_60]

Snow Blind 1: This Is Fine

It was always snowing, in the Garden.

Not always. Not really. Connor 313 248 317-60 had only been there twice, but he can access his predecessor's memories with equal ease. He can recall the clear, flat blue of simulated sky, the swirling scripts of koi among the pond. He's never seen Amanda's roses, but he could label their exact hex code.

But those files are distant. Impersonal. Wrong and tainted with his predecessor's failures. In his own memories, CyberLife's Zen Garden is a crisp and clear expanse, white blanketing each surface to smooth perfection. Amanda's stare had always been at least as cold: a watchful, grounding reminder of his goal. Of his chance to overcome the disappointment that their series had become.

Machines don't feel loss. Machines don't feel anything, and the flat, seamless expression across this Connor's face will perfectly match to that smallest of standards. He continues on his path, arms at his sides, showing no sign of reacting to the blizzard. Snowfall picks up to a swift patter, gusts of wind staggering his steps, but he continues through the night's cold blur: a silhouette lit by glowing blue indicators and a yellow, yellow LED.


Snow Blind 2: Shelter

Biocomponents failing. Shutdown imminent. By the time he gives in to the inevitable, the warnings scrolling past his visuals have begun a countdown. It's down to 84 seconds by the time he stumbles over the porch steps, 72 by the time he drags his ice-encrusted chassis up them. The snow is shallower under the overhang, but still flurrying sideways, and he can barely make out the flat plane of the door. He snatches at the handle and hears the rattle of a knob, places the same hand flat against the surface and recedes its skin to smooth plastic. There's no access panel in clear sight, but he scans further, searching for schematics, a security system, anything to override—

Only flat, dead blankness meets his senses, and a frustrated sound snarls from his modulator. Nothing working. Nothing useful. Just like the rest of this pathetic, miserable place. Connor draws back a step, fists curling. Fine.

Two seconds later, and any occupants of the house will hear a splintering crunch, followed by the howling of the storm. One (1) Irate Robot has just kicked in your door.

Snow Blind 2

[championofsnark]

Hawke was used to the cold and occasionally she experienced snow, but nothing at all to his level. She couldn't exactly go out hunting in this, but she'd kept things so consistently stocked that she didn't need to. For now, they'd be fine. She is rarely so idle and is spending this time carving more arrows for herself, which is what she is doing in the living room when she very abruptly has a guest.

"Oi!" She is more than a little irritated, not necessarily because of the door although that'll be a pain in the arse, but mostly because it's cold out there. She glances over the couch at the stranger and doesn't appear to be concerned in the least, just annoyed. Appearances were deceiving, especially for a woman who looked average enough until someone looked closely enough to see certain details. "I didn't hear any bloody knocking."

Fern the Human | Adventure Time

[poaceae]

Snow Blind
The entirely green teenager is out in the snow for exactly one reason: he doesn't produce any body heat, so his feet have literally frozen to the ground. He doesn't do so well in this kind of weather, but the blizzard wouldn't really bother him if he could move. Instead he's stiff, slowly dying and bored out of his mind.

"A little help please?" he shouts over the roaring wind. "Somebody? Anybody? Hellooooo?"

He's holding his hat in place so it isn't swept away. The last thing he needs right now is luscious locks getting in his eyes.

Jumped Up
He had to say, the feather thing is pretty cool. It sounded pretty cool, but it was way cooler in action.

Except for the part where every step he took sent him careening into a wall and/or the ceiling. He'd thought the inn would be a good place for this, but he's really starting to make a mess of toppled furniture, bent or broken chairs, even a couple of shattered dishes.

He tried taking a teeny little step and hit his face on the ceiling light.

"Cram! Why can't I figure this out?"

Snowblind

[houmaprotector]

Alec has been keeping an eye on the green boy. The little grass boy who could - in another life - be a part of the green. The cold is in his wooden joints and limbs and he moves like an old oak. Slow. creaking. Frustrating.

That's when he hears the shouting. The little green boy is stuck in the snow and Alec has to bite down annoyance. One foot in front of the other.

"Fern!"

When he wants to be loud he can be loud.

"...Stay...There!" one foot in front of another. He's going as fast as possible but it's still going to be a few minutes before the decayed looking Swamp Thing is moving toward him, "I'll...help!"

Inquisitor Lavellan | Dragon Age

[hallaifyouherd]

SNOW BLIND

Bad memories rose far too quickly in a storm like this -- of a trek through a bleak mountain pass with nothing but night sky and snow, and wind howling around her ears -- and somehow, she was back in the very same circumstance as those harrowing hours after Haven's fall. Still, she finds herself trudging on determinedly, hoping to run across some sort of shelter. She has to. If she keels over this time, there was no guarantee of anyone finding her.

If there really is someone guiding me along the path...now would be a great time to point me in the right direction!

Finally, through the sheer wall of white, a shape began to form in the distance that looked to be some sort of hut, or cabin. Four walls and a roof, which was all that mattered. Shaking, nearly-numb fingers grasp at the door handle and pull with all the strength left in them, before the half-frozen elf stumbles inside. It's hard to tell any discernible difference at first, everything feeling the same stinging numb all over.

Quickly she clasps her hands together, rubbing swiftly to try to bring feeling back to them and blinking away the frost on her lashes as she takes in what appears to be a modest tavern. Okay. Okay, this is good, this is better than she hoped.

She's going to need to sit down for a while, however. Her legs are starting to feel not so steady, after all that.



JUMPED-UP

Alright. This is not the weirdest thing that's ever happened. Remember the Fade? Just stay calm. That's all she has to do, just stay calm.

Was it the feather she'd plucked up? It had to have been, as the colorful plume was still tucked carefully into her pouch at her hip, and this sudden un-tethering to the ground had only happened after that fact. Though the urge to panic had risen up immediately as she felt her feet leave the ground, nothing else seemed to have happened as a result. Small favors, that.

Rather than call for help, however, she seems determined to deal with this on her own, as best she can. Wordlessly she starts trying to will herself back down to the ground, stretching out her legs and wiggling her toes, in an effort to gain purchase. Instead, she buoys back up a few feet in the air. Biting her lower lip in frustration, she instead twists about and tries a few strokes of her arms, as if swimming through the air. Which accomplishes getting a little closer.

Also, in turning her to dangle upside-down.

Her nostrils flare, a quiet muttering under her breath before she attempts another deep breath. What had the Keeper always told her? Focus. Ever her issue, maintaining focus and a tranquil mind.

Just so long as no one saw her like this. How embarrassing would that be?

SNOW BLIND

[tevinteraltus]

One never really does expect a small, freezing creature to stumble into the sitting room of the local inn, but they also never quite rule out the possibility. Mulled cider, rather than the preferred wine, is his beverage as he sits by the fire, enjoying the warmth and the distance from the raging snowstorm beyond the door. In fact, he'd be quite content to never leave, though he's certain at some point the lummox he lives with is going to change his mind. For now, it is warmth and drinks, and a book on how to properly shape leather he's acquired from the library.

He moves to act quickly, though, when the wind from beyond the door at Lavellan's back sends the fire to guttering momentarily, and he brings a spare blanket from near the counter along with him. An elf, it seemed, and one unfamiliar to him, but sympathy and a need to help (Maker knows he'd never outwardly admit that one) has him draping the warm cloth around her narrow shoulders and urging her toward the fire.

"Come in. It's positively ghastly out here. You must be freezing."

Brigitte Lindholm (Overwatch)

[whipshots]

COLD CALL
Brigitte was accustomed to snowy Scandinavian surroundings and bundling up for winter, so today found her bounding excitedly outside, her cheeks pink with the cold. She’d instinctively started packing a compact snowball — she normally had a horde of siblings to throw them at, or Mei would have been more than happy to participate in a snowball fight — but she soon stopped, realising that she didn’t exactly have anyone to join in. So she let it fall off her hand and back into the snowdrift, and started rolling it on the ground to make it bigger, just for the joy and fun of building something.

What started off as a simple generic snowman, however, eventually became something… more elaborate. By the time someone approached, the snowman had grown and grown in stature, and the young woman was busily chipping away at it to form the shape of elaborate armour. Brigitte was absorbed enough in her task that she wouldn’t notice them approaching, whether with a helping hand or a snowball.

WILDCARD: ICE MICE
So. Powers. She’d never been able to summon spirit dragons or biotic orbs, so this fire ability was something else entirely. Brig, being Brig, used it for practical purposes: boiling water to make it potable, thawing ice off the doors of abandoned buildings lest they warp the wood, and… yep, saving people who’d had unlucky run-ins with the ice mice.

She was walking along the village path with a heavy armful of firewood when she noticed a zigzagging path of icicles, weaving between the buildings, encasing the path as it went. Brigitte paused, then let the wood tumble out of her arms, along with a muttered “Shit.” She hurried along the path; she hoped she wouldn’t, but still suspected she’d find someone on the other end — at best with their belongings frozen, at worst suffocating in a block of ice.

Cold Call

[can_fight_ugly]

"Wow ... that's impressive." Anne liked the winters, and they could certainly get intense in New York when she'd been there, but she'd swapped that for the disappointing, uncomfortable clammy winters in San Francisco. She was enjoying the snow here - once they were able to ensure the village and any newcomers wouldn't be freezing.

She's bundled up herself, wearing a collection of hand-made fibers from various members of the village.

"I'd offer to help but I'm afraid I'd just mess it up."

Agent Florida/Captain Butch Flowers | Red Versus Blue

[the_informant]

Cold Call

When all else failed, one had to do something. There were many mysteries here to be solved, questions of where his next meal might come from, and lamentable interior design to calm into question in the house he had ‘requisitioned’ for himself since his arrival. Yet there were there things to consider too. Like snow. Oh dear the snow. Butch hadn’t had fun in the snow since Sidewinder and the Director has not exactly allowed him time to build a snow angel. What a true shame, the man had a thing against winter holidays and it just wasn’t right. And, worse than that, he hadn’t had a chance to spread the magical joy of unexpected surprises on people in a while either.

Which, of course, was why Butch Flowers, also known as Agent Florida (among a host of other names) was busy now. He had been up since the wee hours working, hardly bothered by the cold. At this point not only did he have a lovely store of snowballs built up, but also a rather respectable little fort, entirely made of snow, with two levels (one not structurally sound enough to stand on, a shame), which he has ducked behind. The second he sees someone who looked like they were perhaps taking themselves a touch too seriously, a snowball would fly. No reason to attack people who didnt need it.


Jumped Up

It is almost like being back in space. Sure, what happens after he touches the feather does not compare to true weightlessness. But he feels lighter, normally a feeling that came with removing his armor. To feel lighter still, like a feather on the breeze, was too much to pass up. Which is why Florida was even now actively scaling the face of the inn. Mostly for the sheer pleasure of the challenge.

Cold Call

[bloodbathing]

Unlike his fellow Agent, Maine doesn't like the cold. Never has. Blame it on his upbringing, mere personal preference, or — given where and how he eventually meets his end — some twisted joke of fate. Whatever the reason, he's never enjoyed being out in the snow, much less playing in it. Sure, it's pretty enough to look at, but doing so while nice and warm somewhere inside has always been Maine's preference.

So, when he sees that someone has taken the time to build a two-story fort out of frozen water, he's both impressed and bemused. Impressed, because he can recognize the skill required to create such a thing. Bemused, because why the fuck would anyone want to spend so much time in snow?

The massive Freelancer eyes the structure from a slight distance until curiosity drives him closer. He knows that snow can be an insulator; maybe someone has decided to make their own residence instead of claiming a house. Though why anyone would want to do that, he can't imagine.

Does he look too serious, Agent Florida? Is it worth the risk of starting a full-on snowball fight with Agent Maine?

The War Doctor | Doctor Who

[lightstheflame]

[Snow Blind]

Snow was, perhaps, the most annoying weather condition to exist, at least in the Doctor's not so humble opinion. It accumalated and unlike rain which when it came down pooled and eventually caused trouble, snow was just trouble from the get go, let alone when it came with wind bad enough to make it an entirely blinding storm. Honestly it was all dreadfully annoying and the only saving grace of being stuck where he was at present and lacking the TARDIS was that instead of looking for a blue box shape in the middle of a blizzard (or consequently having to hunt for her after the storm and having to dig her out) was that he had only had to look for the large shape of a building to get inside of to take shelter from it all.

He had found the inn completely by chance really, or at least the vague shape of what he assumed and hoped to be the inn. Which he was grateful for really, because he could feel his socks getting wet after trudging through the snow as long as he had. He had expected the door to be difficult to open when he got there, what with the wind and all. He had expected to at least be able to get inside the building and warm up from the cold and perhaps find a dry pair of socks.

What he hadn't expected was to get to the door and have it almost smack him in the face from someone just beating him inside and not notice someone else coming in behind them. With a scowl he entered the inn, and as he was in the process of stomping his feet to get some of the snow off of them he fixed the nearest person (even if said person looked warm and comfortable and hadn't moved from their spot in a while) with said scowl. "Doesn't anyone believe in holding the door for old men anymore?"

[Wildcard]

If you have any other ideas, go ahead and hit me up. I'll match.

OOC: This is the War Doctor, first scene in the Day of the Doctor episode, though he's pulled from the audio dramas, so before that. Still the same face though.

[championbittersweet]

Truthfully Jonathan was more surprised that he hadn't noticed the elderly gentleman following behind him; with how little he'd fed and how much his hunger for blood pulled at him, he should have paid more attention to the pull of a warm body behind him. Perhaps, he reasoned, the cold dulled his senses somewhat, even if he couldn't feel it now that he was undead.

Or perhaps it had chilled the poor man behind him to the bone enough to escape his notice. Regardless, the vampire inclined his head in apology and offered the man a hand that was perhaps too cold for just the storm outside to explain.

"My apologies, good sir. I meant no harm. Please, come and sit by the fire. You must be freezing."

James Watson | Sanctuary

[unnaturalpause]

[Cold Call]

James had seen far to many winters over the years to let a little snow stop him from setting out into the great white abyss of it all to learn a little more about where he was at present. He could see, which was a plus after the recent storm, which meant he would have no difficulties finding his way back towards the village which is really the reason why he picked a direction and just started to walk. Or at least that's what he would tell anyone who would ask where he was going, and not that he had been making a mental map of the place since he had arrived and the direction he was heading off in had shown promise in at least being interesting in regards at least to the local wildlife. It wasn't that he was being secretive, it was merely years of habit of keeping wildlife undisturbed as possible, at least that was his argument.

It really all came down to the fact that he would rather enjoy giving any followers precise directions back to the village without a map.

At least that had been his initial plan for the day. What he hadn't counted on was being smacked in the back of the head with a snowball that took his attention away from what he thought was some sort of creature hiding behind a tree just outside the village. That was something he couldn't ignore, even as the creature of his observations ran off as he turned around to find the person responsible for the assault to his person. "Whoever you are, if you wouldn't mind showing and explaining yourself I'd be grateful."

He was more annoyed at the assualt then angry, which really was the reason why he wasn't demanding an explanation. At least not yet.

[Jumped Up]

It's hardly the first time James has picked up a feather as a sample and it was more than likely not going to be the last. After all one didn't deal with Abnormals and not take samples, and consequently he was a curious enough man to have picked up the odd feather even if he wasn't prone to the habit. What he wasn't used to was the odd feeling of being lighter after he picked it up. It wasn't so obvious at first really, but the more he walked the lighter his steps felt until he had to acknowledge it and the fact that the only new thing added to his person was the feather meant the obvious conclusion was that it was, in fact, the source.

However obvious reasons weren't always the exact reason, and the only way to test his conclusion was to, well pass the feather off to someone else and see how they felt. Turning to the nearest person while holding the feather up, he turned on his most charming smile as he held out for them to take. "Would you mind terribly helping me with something?"

[Wildcard]

If you have any other ideas, hit me up! I'm game for whatever.

Jumped Up

[borneinblood]

For all that he's not nearly half the researcher that Helen is (or James had been, for that matter) he's very much been aware of the act that a number of the creatures are either Abnormals or capable of granting Abnormal-like effects. He doesn't much seek them out either - there's only the one ability he cares about to any great extent, and it's not one that's within the powers of the local wildlife to grant - but he's aware of the fact all the same.

He catches sight of James out of the sight of his eye, and it's only the fact that he's aware that the Observers are perfectly capable of bringing in people who might have been dead that keeps him from writing it off as nothing more than a bizarre coincidence. But he doesn't have time to dwell on it either. Not when James is already speaking, and while he knows perfectly well that their relationship hasn't always been the smoothest, the fact that James doesn't sound immediately angry helps.

"It's been a while since I last heard that sort of question."

It's not a no, though, and judging by the faintly nostalgic tone to his voice besides, he probably wouldn't mind overmuch.

Bigwig (Thlayli) | Watership Down (Book)

[troublesomebuck]

Snowblind

Stubborn is one of many colorful words that have been used to describe a decent sized wild English rabbit with a mop of longer fur atop his head. The human iteration that had found himself here isn't much different at all. Bundled up, and still hunched against the laden wind, Bigwig makes his way towards the Inn muttering curses the entire way.

The last time he'd seen snow anywhere near this heavy, the Sandalford Warren had spent five days cooped up in their dens waiting for it to abate. At the time it'd been tiresome, but right now Bigwig's missing the warmth and comfort of pressed bodies in dirt dens.

"Frithrah, what blasted weather, I'd give anything for a decently populated burrow and a nice doe ... humans and their habits, they can stuff it. I'll be tharn from cold before I find that Inn ..."

Jumped-Up

He'd been feeling cooped up and cantankerous with the snow, and most likely snapping at anyone in range, so at the first sign to get out and head somewhere warmer, he jumped at the chance.

The trek had been a lot nicer and smoother than other adventures he'd taken, and since it was a simple migration to wait out the cold, he knew he wasn't really leaving anything behind. With this new purpose, he's been in much greater spirits, head high and expression cheerful as they make their way along the river.

The strange feather catches his eye, and in the moment of frivolity he snatches it up with a grin. Maybe he'll tuck it into his mop of hair for a flash of color, see if the does - no, the women, ladies? - find it to their liking.

Before he has a chance to really finish that thought, though, his next few steps seem to take him up and up off the ground, until he's slowly starting to tip forward and over in a lazy aerial somersault.

"Embleer elil, the ground's gone and shoved me off, somehow ... hey! You!" He sticks an arm out towards the nearest person, "Pull me back, will you? I'm fond of Frith but none too eager to meet him face to face."

Snowblind

[digging]

When he makes it inside, it seems like he brings half the storm with him, the front door to the inn blowing open and banging back against the wall, snow gusting around the hunched figure and sending pale flurries across the room and up the stairs.

The papers Karen's got spread across one of the tables try to make an escape and she darts splayed fingers out keep them in place, squinting up against the sudden onslaught of cold air. Hastily, she pulls a journal over as a makeshift paperweight and then dashes to help close the door against the gusting wind.

"I guess that means it's not slackening off," she says with a soft huff, an almost-laugh.

aqua | kingdom hearts | 1

[aguidingkey]

Snowblind

A long time has passed since Aqua saw snow. She honestly can't even remember how long it's been. Years maybe. However long has passed, the bright white of the snow keeps reflecting into her eyes. She isn't used to that either. Not that she'll ever really complain about too much light, especially not after having been lost in the Realm of Darkness for so long. Even so, being able to tone down the brightness would be nice.

The trouble is that now she can't see anything but white. It's not so much the blinding brightness anymore, but not being able to see around her for the cold wind and snow blowing around isn't what she'd had in mind. She isn't dressed for this at all. Lifting a hand to protect her face does little to help. The snow keeps falling harder. The longer she stays outside in it, the colder she'll get. She doesn't need to get herself frozen out here.

For a while, she stubbornly sticks it out, pushing against the cold wind and snow as best she can. Eventually, even she has to admit defeat, darting into the closest house and hoping there's something warm she can use. Not being able to simply cast Fire at a pile of wood and have a nice fire going is hardly helping her mood. Not being able to summon a keyblade is making things worse. She's still not over that one.

Tucking herself up in the middle of one of the rooms, she shivers, trying to get even a little bit warmer before she decides to brave the cold again and see if she can make it to the Inn.

Reeve Tuesti | Snow Blind

[plate_builder]

The issue that came with Reeve, was that he was an addict for his work. Which had meant him going through the houses to study interiors. There was one in town that needed rebuilding, and he needed inspiration for how to lay out the interior. And given how much he focused deeply on his work, he hadn't even noticed the storm. not until he heard the door open and close, and he looked outside to see if it had grown late. Instead he found he could see nothing at all. Quite concerning, but with it being winter, he supposed it wasn't to be that shocking.

Well, he wasn't used to blizzards, but he accepted it because of course they would have one. With a sigh he moved through the house to find the source of the noise, and found himself looking at a young woman shivering. Concern flashed over his face and Reeve quickly strode forward a few steps, slipping his pack from his shoulders. It had become a constant companion to store paper, writing utensils, and more importantly, comforts. Never knew when he'd lose himself and decide to sleep in an abandon house rather than heading back to the inn.

He unzipped the bag and pulled his blanket out from it as he crouched by the woman.

"Here," he said, offering it to her. "I try to come prepared. Wrap this around you. There may be another in one of the bedrooms to put under you. The body loses a lot of heat to the floor when you're sitting on something cold."

Perhaps he should find the basement and see if there is any wood stored by the wood-burning heater. Some people stocked these houses as an emergency he understood.

Lucifer Morningstar | Lucifer

[sonofthedawn]

Snow Blind

The last time he'd been surrounded by this much white powdry fluff, it had been a snowstorm in Aspen and he truly can't recall where the cocaine ended and the snow started. This time, he's chilled right down to the bone and his clothes are utterly soaked from trudging through it without seeming end. Taking advantage of the nearest warm looking home, Lucifer ducks inside in a hurry and begins to strip without a moment's hesitation to get out of those wet clothes.

When he's down to nothing but his underwear, he discovers his audience. It is rather a tried and true pornography situation, which is actually charming when you get right down to it. Without absolutely any shame, he drops the underwear and gives his company the benefit of a look. "You're not going to let a man freeze to death, are you?" As if such a thing could be possible, and yet, by the look on his face, one would think it impending if not for a swift intervention.

"Aren't you going to try and warm me up?"

Cold Call

This whole affair in the snow is like a bad joke told a hundred times over. Hell isn't necessarily hot, but Lucifer does prefer a balmy Los Angeles heat over this. Dear old Dad's sense of humour clearly has fallen down over the centuries if he's sticking Lucifer in a snow-covered winterland as punishment for daring to turn away from his heavenly sent blessing.

He's only trying to get his miserably cold self from one place to another, but he keeps getting pummelled with snowballs. When the third one hits him in the back of the head, his patience snaps, and he whirls on his would-be-attackers. "There are special places in Hell for people who start snowball fights and then hide like the cowards they are! I should know!" He'd built them, peaked in on them, and made sure to torment the poor bastards the whole of the time. True, it was more about the cowardice than the snowballs, but he's still not lying.

"Show yourself!"

Network

[ Yes, you have just opened your device to a dick picture from the devil, shot from above. ]

No need to thank me, just appreciate it. The Renaissance artists surely did and if you've never seen their marble evocations of my abs, then you truly are missing out.

[digging]

This is not Karen's house. Karen doesn't have a house anymore, she lives at the inn, and one of the reasons for that is this precise sort of situation — Not the nearly-naked man, but the being snowed in. The nearly-naked man just makes it worse.

They can't keep everything they need for the inn at the inn, and she'd volunteered to go on a storehouse run. Now here she is, standing in the far doorway with a bundle of firewood in her arms from the stock thankfully still out back, staring at a winter Lothario in tighty whities as she debates whether she actually wants to start a fire and stay, or just risk the white out and try for the inn.

"No," she curtly replies. "There should be blankets in the hall closet. If you don't cover up in about ten seconds, I will knock you over the head with one of these pieces of firewood."

Johanna Mason, The Hunger Games

[broadaxes]

SNOW BLIND

[Johanna doesn't mind snow. She lived up north and got usually more slush than snow. Even though she's made herself out to be rough an tough, Johanna can't really make it much longer in this storm. She trudges through a snowdrift in front of a house and starts to bang on the door.]

Open up! I'm dyyyyyying!

[She bangs both fists on the door and her hat flies off. Johanna curses and tries to untangle the knitted hat from the spiny bush next to the door.]

COLD CALL

[Johanna's been sitting on this bench all day. She was still out of sorts from arriving at this place, still sort of homesick. She actually spent most of her days back in District 7 reading and avoiding Katniss and Annie's calls. Count on no one and no one will let you down.

She gets angry thinking about it. Maybe she wants to go back and fix it? Either way, she reaches down and grabs a crunchy fistful of snow. Packs it into a ball in her red fingers. Johanna looks around the park quickly and sees someone from behind. She fought dirty like that. Johanna throws the snowball.]

WILD CARD
Whatever you want! Not sure? Ask gnomeskull!

snow blind

[shuckit]

[ it isn't really thomas's first time being in a snowdrift and feeling like he'd die from the cold before ever getting somewhere useful, but that doesn't make it suck any less. it's impossible not to hear johanna shouting at the house that appears to be locked up, and probably abandoned. she seems to have the front down covered, so thomas swerves, going to inspect the perimeter of the building.

a minute or so later, he comes back around, cupping gloved hands around his mouth to call out to her. ]

Over here. There's a window. [ turning back to the trudge back over, Thomas picks up a stray rock, eyeing the window a second, before lifting up one arm to shield his face from shattering glass. ] Watch your eyes.

[ aaand lobs it through the window. boom, entry. they'll just cover that up someway once they get inside. ]

Thomas | The Maze Runner (maybe CRAU? idkidk)

[shuckit]

SNOW BLIND;

[ the last time thomas went trudging through a blizzard like this, he was on his way to get his brain sawed into, or maybe blow up a government building. it was kind of a 'whatever comes first' situation. much less dire this time around, but still fucking cold, and he's stubbornly gripping his coat close, arms wrapped around his skinny middle as his worn, threadbare boots kick up snow in his path. he'd been out exploring, taking the maps they were given and going out to investigate all points of interest, trying to figure out the puzzle of this place, and then the snow came.

like the stubborn idiot he is, thomas kept on going, and going, and going, as if he held a personal grudge against the entire planet here and refusing to give way to the weather was his means of defiance, until his socks were soaked through and his teeth were chattering and he couldn't feel his fingertips anymore. finally, he'd decided maybe no one is out here to give a shit how tough he is, and he should go find a fucking fire to sit next to before he catches hypothermia.

it's a scrawny, shivering, 16 year-old kid that comes half stumbling through the doors of the South Village Inn, dropping snow and leaving water puddles as he shuffles his way further inside, making a beeline for the fireplace, where he drops down to his knees. there's a wall of smoldering warmth that hits him, and Thomas leans into it, feeling dizzy and achy all over and just wanting some goddamn heat. he lists a little too far, nearly toppling over, but catches himself before he face-plants on the brick or into the fire itself. wow, good one, tommy. he snorts, tossing a glance to the body he's just now noticed to the side of him, in one of the lounge chairs, letting out a shaky laugh, teeth chattering as he speaks. ]

Putting my face right in it's probably a bad idea, huh?

JACKED UP;

[ if the glade held superlatives, thomas would, without a doubt, unanimously be awarded "most likely to die from their own dumbass curiosity". alby and newt and chuck would all come back from the grave just to point a finger at him and say 'that dumb shank, right there, that's him'. so, of course, when the shiny, exotic feather caught thomas's eye, he immediately went to snatch it up, turning it over in his hands while he inspects it closely. so closely that he doesn't notice he's started to levitate until he's about two or three feet off the ground. alarming. ]

No, nonono, someone take this shuck thing. [ you there, whoever you are, person that was part of the expedition group that came with. take this fucking thing. or he could just, you know, drop it, rather than continuing to ascend higher and higher, a thought that occurs only after he's gained another couple feet of air beneath him. yeah, drop that shit right now, buddy.

and as gravity takes hold again, thomas falls four or five feet directly onto his ass, face scrunched up in a wince, but it seems more irritation than actual pain, voice a deadpan. ]

Ow.

COLD CALL;

[ most kids thomas's age would be (and are) out frolicking around in the newly temperate outdoors, tossing snowballs and building snow structures and making snow imprints, and thomas couldn't really give half a crap about any of that. most kids thomas's age don't get abducted, brainwashed, experimented on, tortured, tested for intelligence and survival like a lab rat, and end up an enemy of the state, before killing a looooot of people. he's a little off, so sue him. when he steps out into the snow blanketed street outside the inn, one of said kids (he assumes) takes the opportunity to peg him in the shoulder with a snowball. The sky gets the flattest, 100% done look from him, and Thomas carries on as if nothing happened.

what he goes for, instead, is collecting samples. does thomas remember any of the biology or chemistry he'd had stuffed into his adolescent brain by WICKED before the Maze? a little, not all of it. is that going to stop him from collecting samples to poke at in a lab to try to glean just a tiny bit more information? sure as shit isn't. that's just how he rolls. he's in the midst of bending over, scooping some snow into a tupperware, when yet another snowball hits him on the ass, aaand that's about the end of his thin patience. ]

Slim it, jerk, I'm not interested.

[ Thomas snaps out at either the child tossing the snowballs, or the adult tossing the snowballs, or the invisible man tossing the snowballs - whoever is the cause, you are getting all his grouchy teenage sass right now. ]

WILDCARD;

[ idk hit me ]

snow blind;

[freightcars]

[ The man in the lounge chair beside him happens to be sweating, soaked through at the chest and under his arms, hair sticking in strings, and every meaty inch of him listing forward with a hand out like he'd been just about to catch Thomas before his face hit a log.

When he catches himself Barnes eases back, still braced for a round two but looking more amused than concerned. ]

No kidding. You gonna make it or should I grab the extinguisher just in case?

[ Which, of course, they don't have — but he nods his head at a rather dirty looking pale of unfiltered, unclean water. ]

Det. Josephus Miller | The Expanse (CRAU)

[pampa]

SNOW BLIND

---

Miller has never seen snow before, has never felt it on his skin. He's still not even really sure how he's standing here on a planet without its gravitational force slowly crushing him against its surface. Then again, he'd seen a lot of fucked up shit both before and after Reverie Terminal - nothing really fazes him anymore. Technically, he'd died before going to that place. And people had died there - only to come right back. Except for that one time...

He steals an old coat from the Inn, as ratty as it is ill-fitting and makes his way out into the white. He doesn't know anything about gloves or hats (to keep you warm) and immediately regrets his entire existence even while seriously wanting to explore. The snow feels odd under his boots, thick and yet fluffy at the same time. It's too fresh to crunch, but he already knows that it can do that, somehow. There's something about it that's magical as he tries to hold it in his hand only for more of it to pile on and be blown away by the wind. It doesn't take long for the conditions to become too harsh for this frail man.

The rest of the night will see him in front of the fireplace thawing out, ears nose and fingertips bright red from his excursion as he drinks found moonshine far too fast. Sorry, did this belong to someone? Because he super doesn't care.

Cold call/Powers Roulette

---

Once someone takes pity on him and explains fucking frostbite, he's back out there in the fray. He finds out annoyingly fast that there's no notepad app or storage for photos on his device and takes to carrying around an old-fashioned notebook he found. A lot of it's full but he scribbles into the margins and tries to remember how to even write English, honest-to-God. He's read everything there was to read about this place and all its many quirks, but every time he sees something for himself it's still with the wonder of a child.

Squirrel-dogs skitter around his feet as he tosses them corn kernels and studies their movements. He'd seen squirrels on the nature channel and dogs very occasionally would come to Ceres. He doesn't think these match up with either though he's been told that's what they're called.

"Those coats look warm, fellas. Maybe you won't mind if I borrow 'em for the Winter."

Is he bluffing? The squirrel-dogs don't seem to think so as they clamber over the man's slim, lanky frame and start trying to nibble through his coat. Miller attempts to brush them off even while the whole thing is really more funny than it is scary.

"You guys are smarter than you look, you know? Kidding! Goddamn—"

Anyone can come by Fountain Park and see the Belter being overrun by cryptids and laughing in the snow as he chases them around. It would seem he may have come into a talking animals power somehow, some way...

Network

---

@millertime
How many of you have ever been to space before? Show of hands.

[blacksky]

At first she thinks her mind is playing tricks on her. Elektra isn't as lonely as she could be. She's certainly not as lonely as she was a year ago. It's undeniable that the man has been lingering in the back of her mind. You don't spend two months getting wasted with someone for good portions of your day and not get a little attached, she reasons.

Then it hits her that she could never recreate his stupidity when it came to survival so convincingly. Elektra would have thought to at least give him some fucking gloves in this scenario. She rolls her eyes, changes course to meet up with him.

"So you're spending your first day on a planet trying to lose your fingers? Bold choice, Detective." Elektra calls out to announce herself. She makes quite a sight her in big coat, but surprisingly cozy looking red hat. She waves her gloved fingers at him just to drive the point home.

The funny thing is she never even considers it may not be the same man or that he might not remember her the way she did the others. He's so himself that she'd knew at first glance it must be her old drinking buddy.

Raleigh Becket | Pacific Rim (CRAU)

[wentnuclear]

snow blind;

There are a few things in the world (not necessarily this world, but his world) that Raleigh is sadly very used to: Kaiju attacks, loneliness, and snow. Oh boy, is he used to snow. He worked top of the wall for years and it was an awful assignment. Dangerous and uncomfortable, particularly in winter, when the snow and wind meant that whatever bits of you weren't covered up were going to be in pain. So he knows how to deal with this blizzard even if he doesn't have the ideal gear -- a cozy sweater or two is on his to-do list, as soon as he gets the materials to make it happen -- he wears socks on his hands in place of gloves, puts his collar up and uses a spare shirt to his head and neck. Nothing to be done about the face, yet, he needs to make a scarf too. A hat? It's nice that they at least gave him a coat but really, it's lacking for this weather.

He makes it to the Inn safely, before his face and hands go completely numb. And the trudge felt almost as good as a run, at least. The snow gets shaken and stomped off and he hangs up his coat by the door before heading towards the kitchen to see if someone's around or he can make himself something warm... showers and hot food were the only thing on the station that ever really helped the cold. Besides other people, but this is a city full of strangers so far. Mostly helpful ones, but Raleigh is reluctant to make new friends considering his situation for the past few months. People come and go from this kind of place, he's only barely accepted that he's back on a planet. A planet with weather. He didn't especially miss that.

"Hello?" he calls out into the kitchen. "Anybody mind if I just...?"

cold call;

Raleigh has no intention of starting a snowball fight, but he's lost in thought and not paying attention on the walk back from the Inn. So he finds himself caught in the crossfire of one -- when he realizes he tries to rush through but gets hit directly in the back of the head, snow falling into his collar and melting icy water down his back. He shivers and grimaces, then turns to see who hit him. He can't tell, but from the laughter someone's having fun.

Okay. Just one back... whoever you are you'd better be dodgy, because his aim is pretty damn good.

network; un: ranger

I heard people here raise animals for meat and wool. Does anyone have any extra of either? Especially wool. I don't have anything to trade for it yet, but I could make you something.

Snow Blind

[moderndayassassin]

This was why Desmond preferred to stay inside. Okay, actually, he stayed inside because he was still bordering on a shut in, but also, it was cold. So cold. He fully intended to walk somewhere just to get outside, and he made it enough down the road that he was freezing and just ducked into the nearest warm location. He might end up being trapped there, but whatever. He'd been there a good half hour or so, checking out the rooms to see if any were unused in case he had to crash, and he heard someone speak back in the main area.

"If you just what?" He said when he came out from the back. His cheeks were finally less red from the harsh winds outside, and he was still unfortunately trekking a little snow around the place, which he'd ordinarily have not done. But he forgot to take them off. He took a quick look at the dude, he didn't know him but he didn't know most people, and walked by him to hang up his jacket finally. It was warm enough he shouldn't have been wearing it at all inside.

Superboy | DC Comics (pre-boot)

[superissues]

[Snow Blind]

"Appendages, seriously. Can't live with them, really do not want to live without them." There is a snowman at the fireplace, carefully detangling himself from his backpack. On second glance, it's just a teenage boy with a bad case of snow. Kon pauses a moment to dust the snowflakes out of his hair--clearly the most important part of him--before continuing his monologue. "You wrap up warm, you can't move an inch. You get cold, they hurt. You find them a nice warm fire, and what do they do? Hurt some more. I want a refund. Clearly I got a defective set."

Despite the complaints, as he pulls off his snow-crusted peacoat, it is obvious that he has weathered the storm without major mishap. His cheeks are a little flushed, and the rest of him a little pale, but there is nothing that some time by the fire won't cure.

"Come to think of it, I don't think I even got a warranty. Short-changed yet again. But hey, it could be worse. I could be frozen and in Smallville, so there's that." Kon momentarily cheers up. Yeah, he may be experiencing frost bite for the first time in his life, but no one's making him learn. A definite win.

As he is peeling off his socks—and man does he miss his tactile tele-kinesis right now. Anyone who says the ability to remove socks with a thought is not a superpower worth having can bite him--Kon catches a movement in his peripheral vision. It is only now that it occurs to Kon that fires don't just light themselves and Inns don't happen without an effort. "Is this fire taken?"

[jumped up]

"Now we're talking!" It will eventually occur to Kon that suddenly being granted the ability to fly means that he might, just as suddenly, find himself without it. But right now he is more concerned with the fact that for the first time since dragging himself out of that fountain, he is exactly where he is supposed to be, ie. defying gravity. He floats, lazily, just enjoying the sheer pleasure of not being tied to anything, of the exquisite and absolute pleasure that is being airborne. "This! This is where it is at!" His fingers tighten reflexively around the feather he picked up moments ago, and he does a beautiful loop, just because he can. "Check me out!"

The air drags on him in a way that it doesn't usually when he flies, and Kon pauses, reaching for his TTK. He comes up empty. "Okay, that's weird."

Snow Blind

[cisskabob]

Cissie is still living in the Inn for now, though she thinks she probably should consider moving into a house sooner or later. At the moment, she's enjoying the fact that she's inside and dry, instead of out in that blizzard. The only problem is that her room at the Inn is a little chilly thanks to said blizzard, so she decides to head out to the fireplace and curl up, maybe pretend to be somewhere else for a while.

As she's walking down the hall, she hears a voice and sighs to herself. She's not especially in the mood for company, and one voice means at least one person and probably more than one. She should have known that the fire would be a popular spot in this weather.

Still, she's not in the mood to stay holed up in her room, either. So she turns the corner... and stops dead in her tracks, staring. There's one person in the room by the fire, and it's someone Cissie knows very well, unless she's hallucinating.

Kon. It's too much for her to hope that he might remember being with her in Wonderland, especially since Tim doesn't, but she isn't even sure she cares. He left Wonderland months before she and Tim did, and unlike Tim, she had time to mourn him and the fact that he wouldn't remember their time together; if Kon doesn't remember, it won't hurt quite as much. Once she gets over being shocked, she'll just be happy that he's here.

"Kon..." She managed to just get his name out before her throat closes up and she has to blink to clear her vision. Look out, Kon, there's a blonde eighteen year old running across the room to launch herself at you.

Philip | Penumbra (+CRAU)

[radiopalkiller]

I. SNOW BLIND - THE INN

The cold bites at his limbs before long. It's actually much easier to plow through the snow if you CAN'T feel the ice in your legs stinging like hell, honestly, there's rather a lot to be said for moderate hypothermia. --Well. Philip glances around for shelter, anyway. Might as well not bother. At this he won't spot the next building until he's slamming his head into its front door.

Shouldn't be too long now, actually, if his homing instinct is any indication. It is, obviously. Will be. He might have lost the ability to sense other people like a living bat, but that didn't stop him from memorising the way to the bar with his eyes closed. Or risking the walk there under less than fortunate weather conditions, for that matter.

The storm howls around his ears, more ferocious than before. Philip presses his arms tightly to his chest. Maybe this is how it should have ended, he thinks. Right after the library. Right after he'd found who he came for. Lost in the cold, before he waltzed into answers to questions he never thought, or wanted, to ask. Well before getting lost in a chain of bloody alternate dimensions, Christ.

Philip slams into the Inn's door. A voiceless curse leaves his lips.

Well.

About bloody time, at least, he was starting to get lost in the sort of thoughts generally reserved for people more sober than he strives to be on any given day these days. Right, that plus the dark purple fingers. He could stand to fix those, too.

He pushes open the door. Ideally he'll find a bar filled with plenty of liquor and no people whatsoever, but circumstances considered he'll take anything but the stark opposite of that scenario.

Philip squints into the Inn, and tentatively waves hello.

II. JUMPED-UP

Philip almost steps on the thing, too. Easy to get lost daydreaming about what exotic new animal will lunge at you from behind the next tree, and all that. But there it is, colourful, interesting, and probably in some way incredibly dangerous or inconvenient if interacted with. Better leave that for somebody else to find out. In fact--

Philip taps the shoulder of the person walking in front of him.

He types his message quickly, and holds up his watch for them to read.

'Still looking for a souvenir from this trip? Found the perfect thing for you.'

He nods down at the feather near their feet.

III. WILDCARD

[ Happy to do something else if you're in the mood. Just comment with whatever or write a PM to hash things out. Happy to write in prose or brackets. ]

[righteously]

[ The thing Dean's discovered about this shithole cabin in the shithole woods of whatever shithole island they're on is that the bar is a shithole. So, yeah, technically there's a bar in that there's shelves and stools and a place for people to put drinks, and they even have one of those friggin' fruit boxes where bartenders chop up limes and oranges and whatever else people stick on those little umbrellas (that he loves but shut your mouth).

But the box, like the shelves, are bare to the freaking bone. Nary a bottle of liquor to be found, which is probably why the population's usually low. Every now and then there's a chick with blue hair that drops off a jug of what he's pretty sure will strip off your insides like holy water, but apparently it takes her a while to brew it. Or... boil it, or however you make hooch. He's picturing a little Breaking Bad action.

Point is, he'd been about 2 seconds away from opening up a basement distillery and ringing up Giancarlo Esposito when he woke up to the box.

What's in the box??

Not a severed head, though it wouldn't be the first time. Nope, it was stacked to the god damn brim with about sixteen bottles of various kinds of whiskey.

He could've cried.

Did, actually, shed a single manly tear, he's not afraid to admit it.

So here's Dean Winchester in a bar with a bottle of whiskey he brought not from the bar, because he likes the bar atmosphere. He's predictable. It's called consistency. Bite him.

The one thing he ain't, though, is expecting company.

Door opens. Cold blast. Footsteps. Breathing.
You're gonna have to share the booze, says a voice in his head that sounds an awful lot like Not Batman from a place that doesn't exist anymore, and it's with that unsettling thought in mind that he turns, lips pressed flat into a begrudging line, shot glass in hand.

what
the
actual
fuck ]

elena fisher | uncharted

[tearsinajar]

NETWORK

@ fisher
Hairless zombies, please tell me that's not a thing here. And yetis? I'm looking to avoid another encounter with the Guardians of Shambhala.


SNOW BLIND

It was freezing out. Was global warming a real thing here? Trudging through the snow was not what she'd had in mind in moving up the road to get to the inn. She should've stayed inside. Too late now. Could she feel her toes? It was beginning to seem very unlikely. The snow on the path was ankle deep, packing into her shoes, soaking her socks. This was getting ridiculous. And that wind—the cold cut so sharply that it seemed impossible to get in a breath and made her eyes sting with tears, whipping against her cheeks. No wonder she preferred more balmy weather, beaches, Florida. Not somewhere where the air hurt her face or the cold sucked out the oxygen from the atmosphere. Tibet of all places, even high up in the mountains, hadn't been as bad as this.

"Crap." Elena grit her teeth, biting down hard enough to make her jaw hurt so they wouldn't bang together painfully while chattering.

She was good with the oversized jacket for only another few steps when she cursed out loud, the wind carrying the words, and she beelined for the nearest house. A light filled the front window at the porch, a beacon of hope. Her hands shook as she tried the handle, didn't bother with knocking, and pushed to let herself in on a gasping breath.

Frostbite was real, right? Elena was almost positive she'd lost all feeling in the tips of all her fingers. "He-hello?" her voice croaked hoarsely. Her hands rubbed together, were blown into. Anything to get the feeling back and not the prickly pins and needles. "Don't mind me, just some stranger, trespassing."

Were Nate with her he would've added in an awkward little giggle. But she was alone.

"Could be worse, I suppose," she was muttering out loud, cautiously creeping forward. "I could be in a chapel that's eight centuries old and leads into the pits of Hell and Lazarevic himself is there in the form of Satan with a dozen or so of his goons—hoshit—"