snowblindrpg | [network] @ADMIN; Arrival [open]

[she gives her tablet a look at his sarcasm, and her nice, conversational tone slips a bit.]

Don't be sorry for anything. I know what a sled is.

And you've got to be joking. Why would anyone do that? Do you mean folks honestly just... strap sled runners to their feet, and throw themselves down hills?

[says the girl who throws herself off of buildings and out of the sky into monsters' faces on the regular, but that's different.]

The terrain here's too flat for it, in that case. Even if it wasn't, I'd recommend snowshoes anyway—less chance of breaking your neck.

Edited (cool, phone) 2015-09-06 22:27 (UTC)

That's about the size of it, SheGuyver. We've got whole Olympic events dedicated to it. And there is such a thing as cross country skiing. Having ski poles is great for that. They're poles. That you use while you ski.

[Gotta break everything down. Just in case. Wouldn't want there to be any confusion.]

Anyway, I'm really just not a fan of snowshoes. They make my feet look fat.

[And he can't use them.]

[she bites her tongue to keep from saying something regrettable when he elaborated about ski poles. Maybe he's just being thoughtful and thorough, more than just sarcastic?]

["they make my feet look fat" no, yeah, he's totally messing with her. And that nickname is terrible.]

Well, Bond, if skis suit you better, then by all means. And if you can't find any poles, surely someone around could come and give you a push to set you on your way.

...Really, though. Maybe nobody's told you yet, but this weather doesn't let up. Anything that makes travel over all this snow faster—in a sensible way—could save your life.

Edited 2015-09-08 11:06 (UTC)

[He has precisely zero problems with being called Bond. If she's looking to annoy him, that's not an effective strategy.]

Snowshoes would slow me down, but have fun playing caribou. I'll see about those skis, and then we can race, huh?

[House isn't exactly sure that skis would work for him, either, in all honesty, but they seem slightly more likely than snowshoes. Maybe a snowboard? Those aren't really conducive to cross-country, though.]

[god dammit where's that vine of that dude in a fursuit doing snowboard tricks when I need it]

Oh, I'll look forward to it. Maybe there'll even be something chasing us, to raise the stakes a bit.

[wait, fuck. She drops the sarcasm to ask a Serious Question:]

...Er. You did at least glance at the bits in those notes about the monsters, didn't you?

I did.

[And dismissed them as hallucinations. Well, not dismissed, but put them down to. Just because he consciously knows they're hallucinations doesn't mean he wouldn't run, after all.]

Haven't run into any, yet. Should be exciting when I do. [There's a small pause before he adds, also minus the sarcasm.] How fast have people seen them move?

Edited 2015-09-08 19:04 (UTC)

[at this hour, with only the glow from her tablet screen for light and the soft sounds of the abandoned house all around, thinking about the monsters makes her fur prickle, but her voice stays steady and matter-of-fact.]

Well... you can outpace them at a run, out in the open, and I've never seen one sprint. But they're tireless—they won't give up the chase until you've put a door between you and them, and then they'll just... wait there, outside. All day, if they've got to, and into the night.

...Not that it's much comfort, but they do clear off by dawn. At least, the ones I've met personally.

[That... could be a problem. House switches over to a filtered communication.]

I don't do running. How often do these things turn up?

[for a moment, she thinks she's pushed something by accident when the little notification shows up, but then she realizes he's just turned on a privacy filter. She's immediately curious at how he knew to do that, and also jealous, but theres more important things to talk about.]

...Um. I haven't seen one outdoors in a couple of weeks, but... my companions and I have found two inside of buildings since then. There are more in certain places; I've heard the abandoned school is overrun with them.

[delicately:]

...What do you mean, you don't "do running"?

[House swears under his breath. Just what he needs. Evil animatronics or hallucinations or whatever the hell they are popping up. He's much less delicate as he replies, snappish, really. One might even think he was being defensive, heaven forbid.]

I like to stop and smell the roses while I'm strolling along through the ice field. What do you think it means, genius? I'm sure you can put two and two together. I believe in you.

Anybody try to take a swipe at them, yet? [Animatronics would be easier than actual figments.]

[the master of mature reactions, she snaps at him right back:]

I'm one of those who've tried. It's useless—like trying to fight a shadow. And don't lose your temper with me; I asked a harmless question.

You asked a stupid question. [What temper? He hasn't lost his temper. What are you talking about Freya?]

Fine. No fighting. Great.

[He's going to have to find people to meet up with, isn't he? Ugh. And he thought he'd be able to keep them mercifully at bay in the winter wonderland. Perfect.]

Edited 2015-09-09 05:39 (UTC)

For now, at least. They can't pass through walls, so they're not truly incorporeal; there's got to be some way to fight them. I'm keeping my hopes alive.

[she takes a deep breath, reminding herself that although the new guy is insulting, he's also probably vulnerable and scared, and she should be patient with him.]

...If you're injured, there's a doctor among our number. I could put you in touch.

Anybody got a flamethrower handy? Or a lighter and some aerosol spray? That sounds like fun to try.

Don't bother with the doctor, anyway. I'll get in touch on my own if I need them. Nothing they can do. Somehow, I don't think they can regrow thigh muscle. I mean, I could be wrong. I'm sure miracles happen every day in Snowhell. [There's a saccharine sweet lilt of sarcasm to his voice at the end there.]

Thigh muscle? [the words are out before she can help herself, but she blushes and immediately follows up:] Er, I'm sorry. Sorry, it's—it's none of my business.

But... no. He can't. [not if he couldn't regrow his own toes, anyway. Meanwhile, she's definitely curious what hot stud means about missing thigh muscle: is he missing all of it? Just some? Does he have some really gnarly scars? But she's true to her word, and won't ask about any of it.]

...Um. Well, they... the monsters sometimes don't notice you right away. But you can't travel by yourself. ...Damn; I'm not anywhere near the gas station, I don't think.

[Freya's lucky she's backpedaled herself. House's comment would have been very unkind, otherwise. He's not even going to address it.]

I'll figure it out. [Is the terse reply. Not like there's ever any way to avoid having it come down to that.] Or I'll 'die.' I hear that's trendy around here. Sounds exciting.

No-one dies. [she says that harshly, nearly cutting him off, then regrets it and tries again:] I mean... people say it, and people believe they've died, but that just isn't possible. Once someone's dead, that's it. They don't just wake up days or—or weeks later, good as new.

[well, more like good as new and returned to factory settings, what with the memory loss side-effect. She wonders if he's heard about that fun aspect yet.]

[At least there's one other sane person.]

Agreed. Medically-induced coma with a death-like state seems most likely. Whatever they're using for it would explain some of the effects at waking - disorientation, memory loss, visual, aural, olfactory and other sensory dysfunction. Put a brain on low-power that long, it takes a while to come back up to speed. Like a running back warming up for the first time since an ACL injury.

[Oh, look, Freya, he can be serious. Imagine that.]

Edited 2015-09-10 19:04 (UTC)

[agent Bond is being serious?? it's a christmas miracle.]

[she might not have understood every word he just said, but she understands the implications.]

Oh—so you do know about the... problems, when people wake up again. If those things, losing memories and such, are just side-effects from being put in that state, then... you're right; that does explain why, eventually, everyone recovers.

At least, everyone I've heard of.

Edited 2015-09-11 04:16 (UTC)

Like I said, I skimmed. Best explanation I've got so far. Half of the rest of the stuff in those guides looks like somebody's been getting a nice dose of something psychedelic every so often. Might be those injections that were mentioned.

Couple that with animatronics, and you've got your 'monsters' running around.

[she assumes "animatronics" are another kind of drug, being from a world not just without phone sex, but also without Jim Henson. Or chuck-e-cheese, for the creepier flavor of animatronics. "Five Nights at Freya's": the crossover that she'd want least of all.]

That isn't so. Every word in the records is true, and the monsters are real. People can see them at the same time, and be hurt by them—that wouldn't be possible if they were just figments of our imaginations.

Edited 2015-09-13 05:49 (UTC)

Yeah. Like I said. Animatronics. Let me guess. You're another one of those people who's from 1915 and doesn't know what 'advanced' tech is.

1800, actually.

[she sighs and tries to keep her patience, reminding herself that he's scared and disoriented.]

...Look. It's fine if you don't believe me. You'll realize very soon that I'm right.

[Not the least bit scared or disoriented. Not at all.]

Uh huh. 1800s. Man, we're really stepping it back. Next guy I meet is going to be from the 8th Century.

[His tone would indicate that he in no way believes her.]

Animatronics. Robots. Automatons. Non-living things that move on their own with the aid of electricity. You do know what electricity is, right?

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