snowblindrpg | [network] @HOOK; DAY 016 [open]

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[network] @HOOK; DAY 016 [open]

ＭＯＲＮＩＮＧ. ＶＩＤＥＯ.
( it takes a bit after waking to find his tablet, stowed close to him after he stumbles free from the odd table and bag he awoke in. he's incredibly uneasy and his expression might even be closed to panicked as he tries to communicate. )

Is anyone— Baelfire, Tinker Bell, are you still out there? I'm...

( not dead. yes, so it was hinted at a few times before he froze in the bitter cold, he still hadn't really believed it, and now here he is. he doesn't know what to think, but he feels very uneasy about it.

the camera turns away from him, showing the morgue, though not in as much detail as the pirate himself can see. )

There's so many here.

( has this place really claimed all these lives? or are they going to wake, just like him?

either way, Hook probably isn't going to stay long... though he might be able to look for a name on the way out, if he's caught before he leaves. )
ＥＶＥＮＩＮＧ. ＡＣＴＩＯＮ.
( he's feeling better than he managed before he died. what kind of irony is that? slept like the dead, apparently, and that's put him in more of a working order... yet, all the same, he still doesn't try to travel too far. he's going to survive and make it back to the school, try to find his group again, hopefully without any casualties this time.

yes, he knows death might not stick, but all those bodies in the place he awoke? no, he doesn't feel particularly confident that he can escape that fate twice. so instead he's off, found a place to stay the night, at least for now. he's poking around inside when the door opens, and he twists away from the very odd garden he was giving a once over to see who it is.

the face is familiar, and he frowns before finding the name that matches the face. ) Clarke, isn't it?

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( he actually wouldn't know her name if she hadn't given to him after they met. when they met, well... he was really in no state to remember even his own name. Clarke is one of the few he bothered to give his actual name, instead of just a moniker; the girl that went out of her way to preserve his worthless life, seems she deserves a bit more consideration than the rest.

not that all her hard work really resulted in anything, he thinks with a sudden frown, but he shakes that off. he doesn't have time to get stuck in his head. she seems worn and weary, and perhaps the pirate might even like to make up what he owes her if he can. problem being there's not a lot he can offer her, all he has is himself and the few things he woke up with. )

Likewise. ( it's a dark agreement, considering he hasn't seen anyone because he's been locked in a cold box, more or less dead. ) If you mean to look around this place, I haven't found anything of note. And mind those plants, I wouldn't touch them if I were you. ( there's a reason he handled them wearing a glove. ) How long has it been since we spoke?

( it's a weird question, he just has to know how many days he lost. he knows he spoke to Clarke the morning of the day he left. be it through death or some odd magic. )

[ of course he didn't find anything of note — they rarely do. she wants to find food, blankets, medicine, a way out. these things are hard to come by, though. Clarke wonders what the endgame is here, why they're being kept alive yet only allowed to barely scrape by. the food they're offered is disgusting, to say the least — she still doesn't understand Pop-Tarts — and if they aren't careful, they'll freeze to death.

so why, then? why bother giving them rations at all? what do you want? she wants to scream, but she keeps it in, remaining calm on the surface. her expression doesn't give much indication of her frustrated state, though a keen observer might notice there's more tension than usual. ]

Since we last spoke? Uh, it must have been... five? Six? It can't have been more than a week.

[ she doesn't bother asking why he wants to know. Clarke, too, has her own reasons for keeping up with the dates. the days seem so short and the nights so long that she finds herself wondering if the day is actually 24 hours. sometimes, knowing the day comforts her. then she can know a few things for certain. she is Clarke Griffin. she is in Norfinbury, and has been for fifteen days. she's really fucking cold. ]

What's wrong with the plants? I was hoping they might be medicinal. They're the only plants I've seen since I got here.

( he found a red pen in another house and a bloody plate. not going to help them much, and certainly not going to do anything to help him. he needed a new weapon, he felt a bit naked without one; he'd broken his only find trying to force his way through a door when he'd been locked out. all his food, what little he'd had, had been left with Tink and Baelfire, so the pirate was down to a few odds and ends on his person. he couldn't help her out on any of the things she wanted, except for perhaps medicine. he still had a pair of strange unmarked pills if she really wanted them, though he found them a bit fishy.

he can't quite wrap his head around the point of all this, either. Pan had wanted a game, he'd delighted in their suffering, but he'd never done it from afar. there's certainly something or someone watching them, manipulating their odds... but why? what did they want? he still had no idea, no better off than the day he arrived.

he looks away at her answer, stomach contorting at the idea of being gone for close to a week. he's still not sure if he believes he died or something... else, but that doesn't change how long he was gone. it's some kind of miracle that he didn't stay dead, but it doesn't feel like much of a gift. )

I'd wager they're poisonous. Hard to say but they've got a residue. And really, after all this, you think that they'd be medicinal? ( he doesn't trust anything in this place, not even the bloody plants. )

[ she notes the way he averts his eyes when she answers, but doesn't say anything. he must have lost time if he's asking that. it gives her a sick feeling in her stomach, a sense of foreboding she can't quite describe. everything here is unnatural. it's wrong. nobody should be blacking out, losing time, getting strange shots, or coming back to life, yet they all are. one might think knowing that others have come back from the dead is comforting, but it isn't. if she's dead— well, then she'll stay dead. Clarke dreads the thought of waking up again with something irreparably wrong inside her. they can't be saving them without some sort of cost. ]

Hoping isn't expecting, [ she quips dryly. they took their weapons, everything that could possibly be of use. the only way the plants could be medicinal is if somehow the Admin didn't know. people like that always slip up. she only hopes for a slip up big enough to give them what they need to leave. ]

I'm also hoping for a grappling hook, but I'm not holding my breath.

[ her delivery is wry, a little bitter. she's joking because it's the only way to deal with the situation without losing her mind — again. Clarke would rather forget that incident ever happened, though. she never wants to feel like that again. scared, out of control, helpless; she hated it.

she makes her way further through the house, hand tracing along the wall as she moves. there's an open area, one where the walls and ceiling are glass. she's never seen anything like it before, but she assumes it must have to do with looking outside. strange considering that there's rarely anything to see but snow. ]

Why have a room like this if all you're going to see is white? Maybe this means the weather isn't always like this. [ yeah, that's another hope. ] It might be a good place to sit and keep watch, though.

( he agrees that this shouldn't be possible without an astronomical cost. magic just doesn't give out anything for free. who is going to be paying the price of the people dragged from the grave or suspended in some variety of animation? it's not fair to force people back to a life they left and left them to bear the consequences of the act, yet that did seem just about their luck in this dreary place.

as for the plants, well... ) You can try it if you like but I wouldn't if I were you. ( he's seen enough plants in Neverland that he's automatically suspicious of all of them. perhaps unfair, but his paranoia paid off back then, and he's not going to back away from it now. )

I think it's meant to let the light in. Help the plants grow. ( like a greenhouse, only built into the side of a house. he wonders if they can grow even in this kind of cold, or if they're bound to wither sooner or later. all in all, the plants are dreadfully odd. he's tempted to huck them outside before he leaves, because he doesn't think they'll be anything but trouble.

her mention of a watch takes a moment, but it clicks. they'd been speaking of keeping watches before he got left out in the cold. ) Right. ( it'd be better than most of the places he'd spent the night. ) I'll give it a go if you like. ( it's a way to make up what he perceives he owes her, though a man she doesn't know staying awake all night as she rests might be a bit intimidating. )

[ she won't be trying any of the plants. she's prudent enough to keep away from them for now, but she may have to return later if she finds herself in desperate need of medicine; Clarke is, however, smart enough to check their taste to see if they're bitter first. she's never seen any sort of greenhouse before, but it makes sense, she supposes. it seems like the weather would just kill the plants, but they seem to have survived this long. it seems to suggest yet again that whatever happened here was recent.

which makes the collapsing and crumbling buildings all the more worrisome. if it wasn't long ago, what happened to make them fall apart like that? ]

I'll stay up with you.

[ it's not for lack of trust. she doesn't sleep well anyway, and two eyes are always better than one. besides, she would feel guilty forcing him to stay awake while she sleeps. this way, if one of them grows tired, there will be another to keep watch. she sits herself in front of one of the glass walls, setting her backpack down. she pulls out three blankets: a small baby blanket with elephant print, a dark blue blanket, and a throw blanket. (she's been amassing quite the collection.) ]

Here — if you get cold. I've also got a pillow, and some hygiene products if you want them. Food, too, if you need it.

( greenhouses weren't such a foreign idea for the pirate. even dated times knew sun was important for plants to grow, it made good enough sense to him. these plants must be used to a cold climate, or they'd have withered by now. nothing killed a plant faster than frost. he wasn't much of a farmer but even Hook knew that. this house could have been kept warm at some point, but presumably it's been left cold as long as they've been—longer, he'd guess, looking at other buildings in states of decay and tarnish.

he's not sure it's wise for both of them to forgo sleeping, there's just not a good way to refuse her. he knows he's not going to want to sleep any time soon, his thoughts keep slipping back to the box he'd been stuck in until just the moment he was awake enough to move. he's not going to stop thinking about that for a long time.

he frowns at the baby blanket, a reminder of children in this frozen tundra not a welcome one. he takes the throw, keeping the largest one for her. he could pretend he doesn't need the charity, but he's tired of feeling so bloody frozen. ) I'm all right. ( he doesn't have any food but he's not going to take hers. he's gone a day or two without before, the idea doesn't bother him at all. ) We might be able to keep watch from the windows, they're clear enough to see through.

( he pauses just long enough to check his magic glass, and frowns. ) The doors will lock soon. ( he's at least learned enough to make sure he's on the right side of a door when that happens. )

[ she smiles at Hook accepting her charity; so many people here don't want help — she happens to be one of them — and it's difficult to persuade them. if she just hoards everything and never gets to give it away, she feels somehow guilty. she doesn't deserve any of the things she has. if anything, she deserves to be in Norfinbury, cold and alone. maybe then she'll be able to start paying her debts.

she peers out the glass. there's nothing out there. it almost looks peaceful from afar, quiet and private. if only it could feel peaceful. Clarke is always waiting for the other shoe to drop. after that beam of light a few days ago, she doesn't know what to expect. ]

Then it's a good thing we're in here instead of out there.

[ she's been very careful not to get locked out, wary of a fate like Hook's. he may have come back, but that doesn't mean it's all better. they could have done something to him, and even if they didn't, the sensation of dying can't be pleasant. ]

If we're going to keep watch, we're going to need something to pass the time. [ a pause. ] You know, I don't really know that much about you. What's it like, where you're from?

( there are at least some things he's too proud to take, but a blanket isn't one of them. he can just give it back after the night is through. he's selfish enough that he doesn't see the point in freezing while she uses them all. he's not quite hungry enough to merit taking some of her food, but he'd take that too if it was a matter of starving and keeping his pride. his pride isn't worth dying for, he found that out before he even wound up here.

he follows her glance out the window, but he doesn't see any peace. in fact, the black white and unforgiving cold seems apparent to him, even though glass. perhaps because the house itself is none too warm. it just reminds him of the bitter night he spent outside rather than in, the labor of trying to drag cold air through aching lungs, and remembering the frozen blue and then black cast to skin before he doesn't remember anything at all. )

Aye. ( it's good they are in, and not out. that's all Hook has to say on the matter.

he looks a bit ridiculous, he wagers, curled under her throw blanket and hooking himself a chair to drag toward the window, but he does mean to make good on watching. seeing if there's anything to spot out in the darkness. when she mentions something to pass the time he digs in his coat to pull out the notebook and pen he's been lugging about. ) If we truly need something, we can think of a game. ( might be a waste of paper, but it's better than nothing. for now, though, talking is a bit odd, but not a surprising suggestion, to waste time. )

It's hard to say. I've been so many places I forget what the place I started in was like. ( that's a half truth and a half lie. he just would rather not talk about the place he was born in. ) I was in a place called Maine before I wound up here. A bloody odd place, too. Horribly cold. And with these terrible horseless carts that screamed along the streets. ( those would be cars, but he thinks terrible horseless cart is a more accurate representation. ) And you, what land do you hail from? Perhaps I've heard of it.

[ Clarke can't help but smile when he suggests a game — gruff, hook-handed Killian wanting to play a game. they hadn't had much time to pass on the ground, always fighting off some threat or another. in fact, they'd barely gotten the opportunity to sleep most of the time. she hasn't played a game in god knows how long. the last time was probably chess on the Ark with Wells. it hurts to remember.

sometimes, when people discuss resurrection here, she thinks: does that mean they could save Wells? there can't be an altruistic motive behind the revivals, they can't be without a cost, and she would rather stay as far away from them as possible, but when it comes to Wells... it's entirely selfish, unthinking, and emotional. Clarke wants — needs — to right her wrongs. blaming Wells for so long was the first of many.

she thinks of her own world as Hook describes his. there is no place she can call home anymore, really. the Ark is gone. the dropship is burnt to a crisp. she can't go back to Camp Jaha. ]

We just call it the ground. I was born in space, but we got sent down to Earth not too long ago. There's not much left there. There's a camp where my people live, and villages where the grounder clans live, but it's mostly just woods. What I've seen of it, anyway. Not like this.

( hey now, he's gruff but he's also a pirate! pirates love games. and he doesn't suspect Clarke will be fond of the idea of five finger filet or throwing knives at a wall (not of course, that he has one. all his dangerous games are out, how horrible). they could think of something; the night is long for just staring at each other and twiddling their thumbs. and while Hook is vain enough to talk widely about himself, it's rarely anything of substance. a game would be more enjoyable a distraction.

he listens quietly, pale eyes on her as she speaks. he doesn't entirely understand the concept of space; he can see the heavens and the stars from the ground, he's a sailor and is quite fond of both, yet he's never imagined living amongst them. it's a feat he only thought of as a child, telling his brother one day he'd sail the stars instead of the ocean, and Liam had merely laughed. )

What do you mean, space? ( he tries to understand but it's not easy when he hasn't heard any of the terms before, and—

he zones out instantly, the large expanse of windows stealing his attention instead. he's spent too long living in Neverland not to be incredibly alert, a bit of movement in his peripheral will set him on edge. the windows seem as empty and bleak as ever, and yet... he could have sworn he saw something. he stands up again and goes toward it, leaving the blanket he'd been grimly huddling under at his seat. could it be someone out in the cold? they'll run out of time if they don't get in fast, the doors will seal soon. )

I thought I saw something. ( perhaps the girl's eyes are sharper than his; or he wants her to deny it, because it's all too easy to see things in this bloody place. )

[ she's taking off her boots and socks to let them dry when Hook begins staring at the windows, eyes far away. the one place she feels any sort of security is inside; her defenses are somewhat lowered, the threat of freezing to death beaten for the moment.

Clarke's eyes follow him as he approaches the glass, brow furrowed and mouth frowning in confusion. who would be out now? you'd have to be an idiot to ignore the lock-in warnings, or at least suicidal. she wraps her blanket around her shoulders, throwing her scraggly, wet hair behind her in a futile attempt to avoid dripping. her feet make a padding sound as she moves across the room to stand beside him, the both of them looking out into the night. ]

Space, like... outer space, [ she replies as she squints her eyes, trying to spot whatever it is that Hook saw. Clarke only sees a white sheet of snow covering the town and their own faint reflections. she looks awful, worse than she'd looked on the ground — the circles under her eyes are darker, her pallor a little more sickly. Norfinbury does not agree with her. she wasn't built for living through frigid winters like this. ]

I don't see anything, but— [ she pads back to check her tablet. it's nearly 8 PM now, far too late to be outside. ]

Lockdown's going to happen any second. If there's someone out there, they need to get inside now. [ Clarke moves towards the door — she won't leave the building, but there's no harm in checking who's out there. when she reaches to turn the knob, however, it's locked. she lowers her hand, pursing her lips. that person is going to freeze out there, and there's nothing anyone can do now. she expects to see a message on the comms about it any moment. ] I guess it's too late.

[ her stomach squirms, fear and guilt swirling inside her. if she'd gotten to the door quicker, then maybe— ]

Are you sure you saw someone?

( he'd add one last possibility to her list of idiotic and suicidal. arrogant had been what got him killed, a certainty he could move faster than he could and he'd ended up paying quite a price for it. it was not one he intended to pay again, because his faith in coming back from it more than once was entirely limited.

he can't tell if he saw anything, when he's staring at empty snow and bleak darkness. he's too paranoid for his own good, snapping at every flicker and shake. he knows this place is capable of making him see things that aren't even there, but he can't help himself, he'd always rather be safe than sorry. the fact she didn't see it either leaves a bit of doubt, though; what if it was just in his head?

Clarke heads for the door, and he stays at the window, uncertain and unhappy as he watches a great deal of nothing. the doors lock loudly, he doesn't have to turn around to know that there is no leaving now, and no coming in either. )

No.

( that's a fact, he's not sure, he had just thought... he grimaces, digs in his massive coat for a spy glass, pulls it open with his teeth, and goes back to looking. was Clarke hoping for conversation? whoops. he's silent, searching again, but when he drops the spyglass, his expression is grim and his stomach is in knots. )

We should block the door. ( he's not sure what he just saw, a shivering, flickering thing, but if it's real? it didn't look human. )

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[network] @HOOK; DAY 016 [open]

thank wow I HAD NO IDEA

i didn't want my thread to be the odd one out without a subject line shhhh

WELL NOW IT'S THE ONLY THREAD WITH MULTIPLE SUBJECTS GREAT JOB

reporting u to the mods for bullying

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