❪ introlog: #6 ❫ city of secrets

[natha]

You've spent the last few days on Thesa Station, taking in the knowledge that your world is no more. Now, the time to put all your survival training into practice has arrived: El Nysa needs you, and you're here to help the planet thrive. Are you ready? THE DESCENT     All refugees on the station are called to the hangar, where a large-scale teleporter awaits. Simply step onto the space between the arrays and wait; everyone will be sent down to the planet together. Before they depart, all refugees will be given a cold weather survival kit with warm clothing, rations, and bedding. The arrays build into a brilliant wash of light, creating a column that travels all the way from Thesa Station to the surface of El Nysa, teleporting the refugees to the planet on an aurora. Once on the planet's surface, refugees receive one last message from Darma. It has been a long, perilous year for you, refugees. And yet we must ask you to brave further peril. Within Nadril are the secrets to how poor Ysverai's revival was hidden from our sight and how this disaster has come to our star. Find the first refugee from beyond this planet, a man named Magda. He will not speak to us, for much has come between us, but to you… If you prove yourselves, he may be willing to answer your questions. We beseech you, for there is a veil over Nadril that hides all within from us. There may yet be more untold dangers waiting to befall this planet. For the good of all who make this world home, we ask you to lend us your aid. There is yet one more favor we would ask of you. In warding off the Storm's encroachment, the physical aspect of ourselves that you call Thesa Station was damaged. We must remain to continue repairs to El Nysa and to deal with Ysverai, but there should be suitable technology within Nadril that could be used for spare parts. If you have the chance to find it and can return it to us, it would hasten— Darma's message crackles with static, another image overlaying hers — her broadcast is cut off and replaced with another. A more sullen and alien voice takes Darma’s place, overlapping on itself in an ominous reveal. It has been a long, perilous year for you, refugees. And yet you’ve only just arrived here. To say I’m not disappointed in your… generation would be to lie, and I am nothing if not an honest creature. But I suppose these have been unusual circumstances. You must ask yourself this — are you only here as Darma's lapdogs? I can assure you, it's not worth being on the Natha's leash. With time, that will be something you'll have to learn for yourself. If you're so determined to come find Nadril, then follow the path north, and you'll find the border. What awaits you is revelation, if you're up to the challenge. A FROZEN LAND     The refugees land on a literally frozen world, both in temperature and time. Curls of icy wind hold swirls of snow aloft and an uncanny silence is broken only by the crunch of hoarfrost underfoot. Only Darma's protection allows the refugees to move through this frozen world — and movement is very necessary. Bitter cold sneaks through even the thickest clothing and without warning, a snowstorm rises: unnaturally quickly, a wall of white howls directly in the refugee's path. Bizarrely, the way back is perfectly calm; it's obvious that this storm is no product of nature. Magda's challenge becomes clear: the only way to Nadril lies through this storm. Visibility within the storm is near zero, the whiteout hiding any landmarks from view and making navigation near impossible. The only guidance refugees have is a sporadic path of faint, greenish lights, easily lost in the raging storm. Refugees need all the survival skills they practiced on Thesa Station to survive, for getting lost alone is a death sentence. Luckily, those separated from the group can happen upon guiding lights Magda has planted throughout the tundra. These blue-white sparks cause frostbite if handled recklessly, but they also serve as directional anchors, turning into ghostly flames that lead lost souls back to the path to Nadril. The trek through the storm will be no mean feat and will last for the better part of three days. By the time the refugees reach Nadril's gate, most will find themselves exhausted and running on fumes. As the snowstorm dies away and a gap in the glittering forcefield around the city opens to usher the refugees inside, it's clear that Nadril is a different beast. A WARM(?) WELCOME     I. Despite the unforgiving journey, entering Nadril is painless. Once inside, characters will be greeted by their predecessors: the original refugees who made this advanced city. They'll immediately be offered medical attention, as well as warm cider and blankets. But it's obvious that the Nadril citizens prefer higher tech to fend off the weather: they also offer wristlets and ear cuffs that that double as mittens and earmuffs by creating warm bubbles of air. The earrings also feature a few quality of life programs, such as timed alarms and thought-to-speech messaging. However, both programs are in beta stages so it's not unusual for a stray thought to accidentally slip through or an alarm to accidentally ring at an inopportune time. II. Refugees are offered free lodging in a large, crystalline building crafted from ice. Despite the coarse building material, the ice is unmelting and surprisingly well-insulated, and the beds are as warm and cozy. The rooms are, however, small. The sleeping quarters house two people, and are some cross between an igloo and a capsule hotel. Though built for efficiency over comfort, all rooms are also outfitted with the latest Nadril AI, RoboAlfred, or Ralf for short. This helpful program is installed in practically all the furnishings: the closet tells guests to bundle up, the bathroom sink reminds them to brush their teeth, and the mirror offers helpful fashion tips. Ralf's personality matrix still needs polish, though: it may very well insult your clothes and passively-aggressively question your lifestyle choices for the entire stay. III. Though not as advanced as Thesa Station, the colony has technology far beyond the rest of the continent, such as rudimentary AIs and mechanical transportation. Nadril's skyline is a point of pride — refugees can take a (literal) lightrail that gives an aerial view of the colony, which is hewn almost entirely from ice and rock. Despite its tech, Nadril is much more sparsely populated than Olympia and Wyver, and its residents stay near a central hub: a Natha refugee drop ship, Central, which has crashed and long embedded itself into the earth. Central is similar to an older, smaller, grounded model of Thesa Station, in functional order with round-the-clock solar power. Within Central are lounges similar to ones on the Station, though many of the damaged areas have been converted. They include repair stations, different wings dedicated to science, botany, astrology, and mechanics, and a research and history facility, which has a smattering of technology from planets beyond El Nysa — including your own. The staff here don't mind if anything is sampled and studied, but objects cannot be taken from the labs. IV. On the outskirts of the central hub, many will find several curious looking bots with insect-like wings perched about high traffic walkways. Simply passing the bots will cause a dizzying flash before a series of photos print out. Upon closer inspection, people will find that these images reflect stills taken from their home worlds as they remember it. Unfortunately, these photos only last a couple of hours at best. At that time, they will revert back to regular pictures of the refugees. People will be encouraged to share these images of their worlds. The residents of Nadril comprehend the value of remembering one's origins, and will be pleased to see that people still hold memories of old homes close to them. RECREATION IN NADRIL     I. Small, mechanical creatures scampering through the city are a common sight. Ask anyone, and they’ll tell you that they come from a shop called Paws About Town. They’re very useful, as companions, gophers, and couriers (though the more mischievous will note that they’re just small enough to keep tabs on people without being noticed). Premade robotic pets are available on display inside the shop. They come in all shapes, but small sizes; one may be able to find robots that even look like miniature creatures from their homeworld. These are a part of a new, highly customizable line with programmable personalities. Customers have the chance to take pets for a one-day trial run. Those who don’t know how to program may want to enlist more knowledgeable aid, but the pets come with instructional pamphlets for basic personality traits such as obedience, helpfulness, playfulness, and bloodthirst. For returns, the switch to wipe the robot's personality to a blank slate is on the back of its neck, right between a switch to invert all traits, and a switch to have them learn by observing. Try not to press the wrong switch — you might wind up with a pet with a mind of its own! II. A. The Frosty Tap Cantina is a thriving hub of activity, but one of the major draws is the self-service bar: molecular mixology is wildly popular here. Playing with drink compositions can be a game in and of itself, and newcomers to the cantina will find that the bartender — a cheerful woman with lilac skin and three eyes — is always happy to give them a few tips on how to use the wide array of tools within reach of the barstools. All manner of drinks are possible — from glowing, layered cocktails, to clear drinks with colored, spherical bubbles and vividly-colored shots that give off their own smoke. There's a nightly contest in the cantina for the most creative drink created by a team — this may be as good a time as any to partner up with someone and see what can you come up with. Winner gets all their drinks for the night free! And, hey, even if you don't win, you get to drink whatever you make. The well-lubricated patrons of the bar are eager to challenge anyone nearby to a different sort of drinking game… Just how well can you hold your liquor? B. Holo-screens in the cantina are nearly always broadcasting some match or another of a game that looks very much like hockey, albeit played with sticks that light up and a puck that changes shape from time to time. Colonists here merely refer to the game as "the sport," and one of their favored pastimes is betting. However, they don't use currency — they wager dares. Nadril colonists are a tough, weathered lot, and they prefer to speak with actions over silver. Colonists will urge the refugees to take part as well. Common dares range from the ridiculous (lead a sing-a-long, attempt to make someone with a poker face smile) to the suggestive (kiss the person in the cantina you find most attractive, strip off a piece of clothing), to the outright reckless (venture out into the snow for a certain amount of time, and no one will judge if you find some company to keep warm). The colonists are unfazed by even the most insane or tawdry of dares — but you'll certainly be called a killjoy for refusing too often! Why not grab a friend and give it a whirl, or challenge a rival to a dare yourself? THE MISSION     I. On the outskirts of Nadril is the communications tower of the old refugees. This is where Magda resides, monitoring Nadril's technological protections, the extent of the Natha’s influence, and running his own personal projects for El Nysa’s technological advancement. It is isolated, filled with research labs and relics of the past refugees who have come to El Nysa — a living mausoleum of worlds swallowed up by the Storm whose peoples have refused to forget where they came from. Crew photos line the walls of the tower: pictures of alien families and friends, the refugees who came to Nadril before you. Each group of photos gradually becomes smaller in number, and the most recent of the pictures are from half a century ago. Magda's picture can be found among the first group of refugees, an unusually small cluster of photos dating back centuries in El Nysa's past. I have been on this planet for nearly two centuries. Life has come, evolved, and collided in an ever expanding culture. But Darma fears interference, and made this place a prison, with she our warden, stifling the growth of the creatures native to this world rather than encouraging them to flourish. She sent you here for answers in her stead because she knows I'll spurn her, and after seeing what that fool Raysc has wrought, I'll give you them — not for Darma's sake, but because I trust after all the Natha have done to you, you'll understand my decision. Mistakes were made, and I won't hide them. You've made it here so there's some mettle to you, and unlike the Orbiters, I'm not interested in hiding the secrets of the dangers we face. I gave Raysc what he needed to keep his actions hidden from Darma's eyes — what he needed to advance the primitive magics the Natha had doomed him to. It was old Natha tech, Darma's very own used against her. Hilarious, isn't it? Raysc learned of Nadril, and like you, braved the snow to find his way here. He proved his worth and his determination, and he spoke of a brighter future, El Nysa coming into its own, its people realizing their true potential, unhindered by the shackles that had been put upon them. I believed him. He had vision — or so I thought. In truth, he was a fool. A madman. He wasted the opportunity I gave him on his petty vengeance. But not everyone on this planet is such an idiot. Surely you lot aren't. The Natha are hiding things from us — about the Storm, about everything. And here in Nadril, we're going to find all those secrets. What's it going to be? Will you help us, or are you going to stay obedient dogs on Darma's leash? Magda isn't too talkative yet; after all, the new flock of refugees may just be here as eyes and ears for the Orbiters. But what he has said leaves you with plenty to talk about, and if you can earn his trust by helping out around Nadril, he doubtless has a great deal more to reveal. II. Central isn't the only Natha ship that made its way to El Nysa — another, crashed just outside Nadril's borders, is little more than a junk heap. It's here that you'll find the spare parts Darma asked you to retrieve for Thesa Station. What remains of the ship's hull serves as a windbreak, and snow has built up against it, turning the piles of old Natha tech inside into something of a snowy morass. Holes in the deck offer would-be scavengers passage to the ship's innards, barely illuminated with flickering lights — the tech is old, but hardy enough to withstand a crash landing, the severe weather, and the passage of centuries. Deep in the wreck are the remains of living quarters, research labs, VR arenas, mecha bays, cafeterias, and a host of other rooms, many of which may seem familiar from Thesa Station, albeit with a decidedly older feel to what remains of the smooth curves and sleek surfaces of the Natha architecture. Most of the ship's systems are damaged and the technology is nonfunctional, but that just means there's plenty of spare parts to be found. The wreck isn't in the best shape, its structural integrity damaged, and the drifting snow threatens to block off exit routes. Be careful while exploring and be sure to bring a partner. As it turns out, Darma isn't the only one interested in the wreck — Magda is also eager to get his hands on Natha technology. In his own way of taking some responsibility for Raysc, he's asking scavengers to bring him parts, muttering about seeing what he can do about Ysverai's curse. Bring him anything that looks useful, and he may have a chance to succeed, though whether he'll be more effective than the Natha Orbiters is up for debate... FINAL OOC NOTES     An AC-eligible thread with a new character as a participant for 2 NADRIL REP POINTS may be submitted from this log. SUBMIT THE THREAD HERE BY AUGUST 5TH, 11:59 PM EST. As always, feel free to create your own prompts and explore the Nadril location page! There are a variety of activities made available, including fishing and cave exploration! Please direct questions to the questions thread below! Thank you! QUICK NAV premise ● faq ● lore ● map ● npcs taken ● atp/emp ● application ● rep/acp calendar ● hiatus/drops ● modbox [ FULL NAVIGATION ] elnysa nysalogs nysaisles nysaooc elnyan

Comments

amaterasu | ōkami

[illuminating]

a: pacing & glowing bright.

[ could any of them have been prepared for this? she thinks back to the virtual reality, those she stayed with, those she tried to show small methods of endurance to. this is worrying, worse. she's better suited to handle it: wooly fur packed tightly and close to her willowy frame, fur thick in abundance, the means to regulate her own body heat. not because she's a god, but because she's a wolf.

freezing to death is a bad way to go. she has no experience, but she can imagine. slowly is never a good way to go. and so all her fretting lies with the others, and at times, it might be hard to spot her, her white blending with the white of everything else. she lopes and trots with diligent purpose, chilled, but undeterred, and she knows moving will keep the cold from scathing. she goes ahead frequently to learn the path, her eyes having as much trouble as anyone else's. with everything still, there's almost nothing to listen out for other than the other refugees, and though her nose still tries to detect what's ahead, it mostly smells snow and the mingling of all the rest around her.

she's restless. if she isn't picking her paws up high, pretty and effortless, to scout beyond the trudging group, she's circling back, on the outside, trying to account for everyone the best she can. it's rare to catch her sitting, or laying. for once, she forgets to stop for food, though it's never been a necessity. delicious as it is. there are times one might feel her weight moving against their side, warm support. or, she gingerly catches a cold hand in her teeth, nibbles with care to massage and inspire warmth back to the tips of fingers. her way of holding hands without having any to claim as her own.

and often, so often, if she does come to a standstill, she's raising her head back to let her voice soar into the frigid air. haunting howls calling anyone back to her, to them, the lot of them. friend, or stranger, or acquaintance. she's tenacious in it, follow this sound. we're here, i'm here. move your legs. your strength isn't dwindling, don't even imagine it. i'm here, i'm right here. a beacon of song to also help guide those who stray back to the path. ]

b: you dance for the rain and the sun and the wind.

i. [ initially, she's a little wary of having something cuffed on her ear, but when she overhears the potential of thoughts reaching others, it seems too good to pass up. of course, of course she wants to be accessible.

simple thing, she thinks the word: ] Hello! [ sending it out to whoever's nearby. if thoughts have inflections, this one is feminine, sunlight, with a musical lilt. it's the kind of voice that might say "oh," a lot when delighted, and laugh a lot, if she could. if voices could embrace, this is the kind of voice she has, even tickling through ears out of an earring. she can't contain herself, her tail whipping in the air, and in succession, she sends out more messages to anyone near her in the vicinity: ]

Hello, hello, hello, hello!

ii. [ remember when meli said she could just sleep outdoors? well, even wolves have dens to stow away into in climates and tundras like this.

considering she hardly let herself rest for the trek to make it here, any single person can a hundred percent expect to catch her sleeping in their bed. either fully stretched out long, all five feet and two inches plus tail of her. legs dangling over the side. or head hanging off it, upside down. perhaps she's drooling on a pillow. sometimes her paws go in dreams, whiskers twitching, or an ear, her rumbling whines in disagreement with some unseen and unreal thing. she may even be curled up compactly.

getting her to budge won't be easy. she either stubbornly ignores whoever tries to wake her, or she'll heave her head up to slit her eyes, weighted in sleep, at them, groan her disapproval long and deeply, and then slowly put her chin over her paws and be out like she wasn't even disturbed to begin with.

with enough persistence, or even conversation, though, she will make more effort to awaken and visit with them. ]

iv. [ the first time she passes one the bug-like bots, the unsettling flash startles her enough into a growl, and her fur is still on end when the photos are scattering like falling leaves around her. cautiously, she goes to look once they've landed.

one photograph displays golden plains, with motes of light, a river bed that looks like a milky way. sitting in the tall shimmery grass is what appears to be angels: they're in white robes, their hair is lightly colored, but the wings protrude long, proud, and white from their heads. there's at least four, but more fly in the background, and they're smiling. at the center, a little behind the small focal group, appearing to be holding the hands of two, a couple of their faces frozen in laughter, is a womanly figure composed of nothing but light. it shapes four wings from what might be her head, like sunbeams, like a crown. even frozen in place like this, she has an undeniable presence, but she has no face, no certain features, she's as if sunlight had morphed itself the best it could into some form, though prone as it is to spreading, it's having a difficult time keeping her in one place.

this is her home. these are some of the first children she brought into existence. she's in this photo, too, but not as she is presently, staring down at it, unable to remove her eyes, all hushed and still.

within another stands a one-inch man, green light glowing around him. and upon closer inspection, it becomes obvious he's standing on a certain white muzzle, the black of her nose just beyond him. the scenery of cherry blossoms and villagers lying even further.

there's one of her walking the back of a long dragon, like a bridge. one of her peering into the sea to be greeted by a purple orca. another one shows her at the mossy bank of a dense forest, sitting with a boy fishing, without a line of all things, in a moonless body of water.

even for her, this is too much. her distant staring eventually gives to the quietest whimpers, and she nudges the photos along the ground, aimless. uncertain what she wants to do. she doesn't want to crush her teeth against them, and soon enough, her elbows bend to let her drop unceremoniously near the pile where she lays her head over them, as if intent on absorbing them. the impossible. ]

c: wildcard.

(i got a little worried about doing too much, so while there's still more prompts, i'll be finding other top-levels relating to them to see about tagging into! however, if nothing here suits your tastes, please, please come at me with anything. if you want to discuss anything first, you can pm me!)

i;

[nostalgiabomb]

[ Sooooo.

Peter fucked up. Like, a sort of "zigged" when he should have "zagged" situation, and he finds himself—

Not lost, exactly. Definitely not lost. But a little turned around? A little disoriented? He has his mask deployed to keep out the worst of the cold, but it does little for all the white and white and white filling his vision. But, okay, he's been in worst scraps than this. And he's totally going to be fine, he tells himself. No need to panic. Things have a funny way of working out for him, most of the time; he's always had an uncanny sort of luck.

And this time, luck comes in the form of... a big white dog. With, like, crazy feathers and red markings, and—

Wait, holy shit, he knows that dog. ]

Ammy?

[ And he shouts it almost incredulously over the howling winds. ]

[illuminating]

[She hadn't recognized it was him right away either. There's a confusion of scents filling her nose, all she had seen was a shape of reds and browns. Someone's gotten away from the others, whoever it may be, and she's coming to fetch them.

Unfortunately, though it'll strike her later, she forgets that they've yet to catch up, that she's been asleep for seven months or so, that she hasn't given him proper greeting. This weather isn't the place, it doesn't occur to her.

She is in, what one might call: Hard Mom mode.

She does not respond immediately, she waits until she can stand firmly before him, her fur flurried by the wind, and her gold eyes piercing.

Peter, she resonates through him, fixed and firmed, authoritative. The first time she's ever presented herself in this way to him. It's drawn out of her from concern. Continuing: Very few living things can survive out here. Don't stray. Follow me back to the others. Do you need to hold onto me?

He can grip her fur, she means. She'll walk steadily.]

b / i.

[stuns]

[ the tech here is different, and it isn't like juno's much of a technologically inclined guy despite what era he lives in, but he knows this stuff is on some other kind of level. the earrings are kind of weird, mostly because juno knows what it's like to hear the thoughts of others - a jumbled mess of this and that, impulse and drive, greed and fear. he waits for a barrage of voices, not unlike the martian pill, but instead he only gets one voice.

and uh. it's not so bad. bright, warm, encompassing, thrilled. though it takes him a moment to figure out just where it's coming from. no one within some kind of distance of him seems to be the type to be shouting "hello hello hello!" into the nothing.

except for when he turns around and sees a wolf wearing something similar on its ear. and uh. well. looking pretty excited.

again... this isn't too weird to juno. though the animals he's used to understanding have more of a gravely, grumbly kind of intonation and hulking body language themselves (martian rabbits are no joke, alright.) he points at himself. the voice that comes is kind of rough, tired-sounding, but not too displeased. animals are way better than people. even weird animals that can apparently talk. ]

Hey there to you too, buddy.

[ whoever you are. ]

[illuminating]

Hello, [the voice inside her, that she can't produce into real vocalization transforms into his ear again. Repeating. If for no other reason than that she is thrilled. This one has a more personal note, it's not just for anyone, it's for him.

She's approaching, soft steps, claws faintly clacking. Her eyes convey her heart, all a-glitter.]

You can hear me easily. [Gentle observation, like she can't shake the wonder of it, like she might be clenching her breath. Can he believe it? Thoughts like hers can be spoken into his ear. Her nose is already trying to reach for his knuckles out of subconscious habit. Out of the greetings she's better accustomed to.]

b.ii.

[thedarkbond]

[Considering Ren's physical condition can best be described as "non-existent", he's sorely tempted to just fall onto a bed and sleep as soon as he claims one of the rooms at the fancy (okay, not very fancy, but still interesting) igloo-inn thing. It's only the three days of limited supplies and facilities that drives him to shower first and pull on an oversized pair of pants and a shirt (while ignoring a passive-aggressive comment from the mirror), and eventually put the ear cuffs and wristlets back on too before going back into the room proper. He'll take what extra warmth he can get after days of freezing cold.

...That said, apparently he's received a guest in the not insignificant amount of time he was in the bathroom. At least it's a familiar face, and he finds himself checking whether she ended up with the ear cuffs herself as he bends down to touch gently at a trailing paw.]

Are you awake, Amaterasu-san? [Silly question, but he's very tired himself and he'd rather not find out from personal experience how a wolf reacts to being woken up by having someone collapse asleep on top of them.]

[illuminating]

[Unluckily, she is not awake. For all the ebullience she's usually containing, she drops into sleeps swiftly and deep. He's so gentle in her approach, that she remains undisturbed, and keeps sleeping unawares.

In the REM period of it, her chest, from the side like this, falling and rising rapidly, blowing air in quick succession. Her consciousness isn't in the present, it's in the setting of dreams, and this is displayed physically.

Sorry, Ren. He'll have to be a little more persistent, if he doesn't want to ignore her. Of course, that's always an option.]

b–i

[dreamprotector]

[Riku is tempted to take off his ear cuffs ever since realizing that the thought-to-speech transmission can go exactly as wrong as the concept suggests that it might… but with the cold all around them that he still feels seeping into his bones… yea no, there is no way he's taking those off in near future. He'll just have to be really careful about focusing his thoughts and then it will work out right, right? Right.

In any case, he's not surprised that other people's thoughts seem to keep being transmitted – but the delight he hears in the one greeting him now kind of takes him off guard.]

Hello?

[His head turns around in search for the source… until he spots the white wolf on the sidewalk. Huh. He isn't entirely sure… but he thinks he can sense a brightly lit presence…]

Is that you, sending all those greetings?

[illuminating]

It's me, [she affirms, the thought-produced voice she's sending into his ear chimes cheerfully.] Hello, [once more, his greeting alone, her tail waving harder, if such a thing's possible.]

[She has her lower teeth showing in casual paced panting, her excitement over this sort of technology keeping the rate of her heart up.]

It's nice to be heard. It isn't too much, is it?

i.

[shashka]

[ Ocelot can't say that he's thrilled with the idea of this tech. after all, the only person that he wants in his head is himself. so, when he hears a cheerful hello, he looks around, once, twice, only to see... Ammy.

well, how about that. ]

...Is that you talking?

[ well... if nothing else, it might be useful for DD to use. sometimes, he can't help but wonder what he's thinking.

(if he ever sees DD, again, of course. he still hasn't forgiven the Natha for not beaming him up) ]

[illuminating]

Not in the same way you're talking, [as if it's not obvious.] They said, I can project my thoughts this way and some ears might hear what my voice might sound like.

Hello, Ocelot. [this, warm and fond.]

bi

[panzersoldat]

[ In such a cold and unforgiving place, her voice is a warmth he hadn't thought he might feel for a while. For a moment, it's like he's sunning himself in Gibraltar and not standing in the middle of an icy city trying to decide if he should even wear such things.

He looks around for the source of the voice only to finally see her. Her tail eagerly wagging. She looks so happy and Reinhardt smiles. He remembers her. He just wishes he had been able to carry the treats he normally had on his person for the stray dogs (and DD) that he meets. All he has is his smile and the gentle turn of his hand, palm up so she can sniff him if she wants.]

Well, hallo to you too. That's quite a lovely voice you have there.

[illuminating]

[She can't return a smile, but in someways, it still looks as if she is, the black of her lips and the pink of her mouth showing behind lower teeth. Her chest has a way of swelling, ears pricking as though she can hardly contain the happiness she feels about being noticed, and answered.]

It's not a bad one, then? [Although, she supposes, if she were asked, she'd say all voices are lovely. She is moving toward him now, tail swaying out horizontal, glad casualness. Cold nose finds his fingers to refamiliarize herself.]

I remember you, [she tells him, moving to sit, moving to press one paw on his wrist for better inspection.] It feels not long ago to me, but it was quite some time, wasn't it?

a

[icingonthecake]

((i'm on mobile a lot, so i hate brackets, but if you want to bracket back at me that is fine!))

Cold doesn't bother Axel so much--perks of wielding fire, he guesses--but even he is feeling this weather a bit. Normally he's the sort that can go out in the snow in a hoodie and be fine, but this storm is definitely more extreme than anything he's ever experienced. He rubs his hands together and stuffs them back into his pockets, then looks up when he hears howling.

Wolves? Should they be worried? It sounds really close, too. He squints through the snow in the direction of the sound, and in the shifting white, he can see a form up ahead, within the crowd of people trudging along. Oh, maybe it's just someone's dog? Okay, that's all right, then. He likes dogs.

As he draws nearer, though, he can see that creature this is definitely too big to be just any old dog. She would blend in almost entirely with the snow were it not for the strange red markings in her coat. He's never seen a dog with markings like that. As he continues walking and approaches her where she has her head thrown back, casting her voice into the heavens, he smiles a little and pauses near her to wait until she's finished her song before making a clicking sound with his tongue, hoping to get her attention without startling her.

"Hey there," he says with a grin, dropping to a crouch and holding one hand out to see if she'd like pets. She seems fine around people, obviously, but he knows better than to just touch a strange animal without waiting for permission. "Do you belong to somebody, or are you just tagging along for fun?"

[illuminating]

He's near her, and she doesn't mean to be rude, she doesn't have the rules for manners that people do. He's near her, so she knows he's fine, and she doesn't think to look at him yet. Her gaze and face are both intently pointed to the left, staring widely into the wind blown distance. One of her ears turning subtly, gauging the placing of snow-crushing foots steps, how many are close, are there some too far off. She has the bearing of someone on guard and watchful, and she doesn't regard him until his clicking.

The unmoving ear, closest to him, whips sharply to it, and then the rest of her follows, her ears folding passively with mumbling whines. Sheepish. She's sorry for not coming to him sooner; she's distracted. When she dips her head to learn him through his offered hand, her tail is already wagging, a little apologetically. It stops abruptly, however. She only sniffs for a couple seconds, and something, too far for regular ears, must catch her attention because her head and ears spring up tense to stare hard behind her.

She swipes tongue over nose, vibrates out a distressed whine, and then she's at it again. Two smaller howls, one medium-lengthened one, and then half of one when she seems to recall that she was going to greet him, moving to investigate up to his elbow once she's through for the minute.

b iv, what the hell 8(

[persistor]

[ A city girl at heart means that she doesn't really stop. Traveling from point A to point B had always been that, and little else — even in a city that she's loved, she's spent her entire life in. No one really understands what they're missing until it's ripped away from their lives, no matter how appreciative they were beforehand.

( If she had the chance to go back now— )

But there are certain exceptions. Kind of like how there are exceptions to the thoughts she works so hard to keep private. It's hard to pass by someone who she was connected to, thought-for-thought. So she pauses, thins her lips at the whine, and pulls out her phone. If the rest of the busy walk way has to move around them, then that's their responsibility. ]

Hey. [ The screen is set to the wolf's eye level, enough of a distance away as to avoid startling. Gently and carefully, almost like approaching a wild animal ( except instead of wariness, it's concern ). Once she's certain that she has Amaterasu's attention, she pulls the phone away to type a new set of messages. ]

You too? [ Missing home, she means. ( In her pockets, are photos of her own. ) ]

u_u our ladies

[illuminating]

[She must look that way, when her former co-pilot-in-training comes across her: not bothered in the least if people have to walk around her. She doesn't want to move. She might lay here all day, if she has her way. This isn't common behavior for her, and she doesn't need photographs to remember, but to see them like this? Those she can be concerned with currently are settling in fine, aren't they? Shouldn't she sometimes take a moment to send her heart out to those she can't reach, those she'll never be able to see again?

Some of these people are not in Stasis. Some of them are gone forever, and have been for a long time.

It takes nothing for her to hear Red approach, and still she doesn't budge. Not until she holds the screen of her phone to her, gets her to blink, her ears to raise a little, then chin in order to acknowledge her completely.

The second message is easy to read fast, short as it is, and as such, she's able to respond fast. A hollow, drawn whine emits from her, and her whole form lays out on its side, covering parts of the photos not to hide them away but because she wants to be near them. Like this, she's even more of a nuisance, she has long legs. Someone has to step over them so she doesn't trip them, and they scowl at wolf and woman both.

Best she can do to confirm "her too."]

a!

[quintessent]

[A poorly timed nap in the stasis chamber puts Allura at least a day behind the others. It's not all bad—with her jumpsuit and paladin armor, she is better suited to stand the extreme cold than many of the others, and although the blowing winds have already covered the tracks of the other refugees by the time Allura gets there, from time to time she comes across the ramshackle huts of ice and snow that someone built before, marking the trail as well as significantly cutting down the time she needs to set up shelter when it's time to rest for the night.

And finding her way through the snow is a welcome distraction from the overwhelming new memories.

All-in-all, Allura makes good time, reaching not too far away from rest of the group by the end of the third day. But the sun is setting and again Allura retires to one of the huts left behind. The air is still frigid, but she sets her helmet to the side, before making a makeshift bed out of the coats and blankets given to her in her survival pack. There, alone, she closes her eyes, thinking of her family. Of her home. Of her friends, both left in stasis and the new ones on El Nysa.

The sound of a howl, it's in the distance, then again, closer. It's not a noise she's heard yet in the long nights on this trip, and it sets her nerves on edge. Burrowing deeper into the coat, she breathes the frosty air, willing herself to sleep, although it does not come easily.]

[illuminating]

[Third howl, soon enough, even closer. There's intervals between them, as if the carrier of this voice whirling in the air is hoping for reply. In some ways, she is, out of instinct. She knows no one else here does this, but she still remains... hopeful. There's no other wolves to answer her, and yet this is for everyone else, for her own sake as well. It doesn't cross her mind that it can sound eerie, as if she's the beginning of some ghost story. To her it's nothing more than a call as song, please sing back, she knows someone's left behind, whoever you are, you're not alone.

She manages five, all varying in length, each drawing nearer. Then, finally, after the stretch of the longest silence after the fifth, she finds the hut this furthest stray has stowed herself away in. She's been spending this whole journey tending to, and it doesn't come to mind in the least that she may be an unwelcome visitor. With folded ears, she lets herself in, her whimpers almost inaudible, voice tired, and while normally, she'd go to the lying Allura to greet her in a canine's way, let nose find fingers, she skips this formality knowing she must be tired, knowing she needs warmth.

If she's lucky enough, she's not being chased out, or having anything thrown at her, because she's lowering to lay down beside her, with the presence of some gentle large dog who could easily have been Allura's longtime companion. Putting her side against her is deliberate, she wants to share warmth, of which she has plenty to give away, and she wants to shield her from the breeze seeping through the opening, and with this same protectiveness, she simply lets her head rest on her stomach to add it to the blankets as more cover. It must be strange, but she doesn't growl, never shows a tip of a tooth, and overall, lacks anything menacing about her in disposition.

The howls have stopped entirely, however. That's to be certain.]

a

[ayes]

[She hates the cold. She hate hate hates the cold. And so, even with a big thick jacket and a fuzzy hat and warm leggings, You Watanabe is sniffling along, trudging through the snow and trying to keep warm, but generally failing at that. And feeling very, very miserable for herself.

She's not expecting the wolf to come up next to her, and it causes her to jump, startled for a second, before--]

Oh, hey! It's you! You're back!

[Still cold, still miserable, but now a little excited.]

bii

[insist]

[ After a long day of trekking through the treacherous cold, and even more time spent exploring Nadril despite his body's complaints of fatigue, Rohan finally arrives at his quarters, eager to turn in for the night. There is a ... large dog in his quarters, however, and he's very certain this was the room assigned to him! While other people may be more forgiving of that, Rohan doesn't quite like dogs - or any sort of cute animal, for that matter, besides the interesting ones that pique his scientific interest. He wants to sleep and this dog is here, taking up all his space! It has to go. ]

Who let you in here? That's my bed, and you're getting hair in it! Shoo! Go somewhere else, dog!

[ While he is warming up to Percival's dog, that doesn't mean he's going to be nice to any old pooch he sees. When his order goes unheeded, he starts trying to push Ammy off his bed. ]

b-i

[luxoraculi]

[ Lunafreya is very unused to such technology. At home, she was not exposed to anything like this, save for the one time she was sent to Insomnia. It's amazing technology, and yet she's been very careful with it. This sort of thing can be abused easily, and she does not wish to listen in to any accidental thoughts that get broadcast out.

So when she hears a series of rather chipper hello!'s playing into her mind, color her intrigued. The voice is so happy and warm that it's near infectious, and she finds herself looking around for the source of it. ]

Hello, [ Is answered back as her gaze sweeps around. It is only when she realizes that there is a rather gorgeous looking wolf sitting near by with a cuff on her ear that it hits her just who is sending out such happy, excited greetings. ] Hello, how are you?

[ She's never been able to communicate with an animal before, though at home she spoke with her beloved canine messengers quite frequently... this is on a totally different level. They couldn't reply. Luna approaches with a smile, crouching down so that she can be at Ammy's level. ]

b-iv

[sparsity]

You don't look happy.

[ — comes a mellow observation, too hushed to be a greeting but relying on familiarity to be soothing by the same measure. Mikazuki has seen all manner of things on all manner of streets in his short time alive, but even he's not immune to the familiar, canine bulk taking up a good portion of Nadril's steely sidewalk. He approaches, footsteps quiet and even for his musculature, depending on her good instincts to allow him to touch.

One hand, just through the hollow of space between both ears, down into her scruff. Living so far from the sun has acclimated him to cold in every way. His fingers are cool but not frozen, still dexterous. ]

What did you find?

a (your icon is fine b quiet...)

[emblazes]

[Keith's a desert kid, for the most part. His origins aren't wrapped in Alaskan struggles or polar bitterness. That being said: it isn't as if he's never touched snow before. Crashlanding on a snowplanet surmises his latest encounter, even beyond this particular instance. Overall: he could stand to be better equipped for this venture, but something about waking up late (canon updating) seems to have put him at a further disadvantage.

The pro: he's mostly able to follow in the footsteps of others before him. It's been a sound plan, something he's committed to for a while now, unhindered until a familiar howl reaches his ears..

Familiar, in the sense he's sure that's an Earthy noise. A wolf, coyote? Something like that. He freezes, looks from right to left and handhovers the knife at his hip.





where u at girl...]

b-ii, adds another tag to your pile...

[pebblestone]

[ Perhaps its the chill that saps at his strength more and more, but Frederick finds himself tiring earlier in the evening than he ought, stumbling back to his room only two hours after dinner with the intent of lying down and closing his eyes for a few moments.

He opens the door out of habit, glazed eyes not fully cognizant of the lump on his bed until he's shucked off his coat and removed his shoes and gotten within a foot of his bed.

Then he sees it, recognizes the furred creature for what it is (to him, at least). A wolf.

With a strangled yell, he stumbles backwards and ends up tripping his own two feet in the most ungraceful display he's shown in some time. One flailing arm knocks over a lamp; it crashes to the ground with a thud but doesn't break, the materials used in Nadril far sturdier than those elsewhere. Another thud follows shortly - the back of his head hitting the ground.

Hopefully he hasn't disturbed her beauty sleep too much. ]