Test Drive Meme #1 (cw vehicular crash, moderate injury)

[spoofer]

Test Drive Meme #1

Mere anarchy is loosed upon the world.

You don't need an invite to test
but please remember we're currently invite-only

CRASH LANDING

Exit one dimension, enter the next. It was chaos: pressure against your ears, light bending in an impossible, unimaginable way. The very molecules of your body vibrating against one another. If you have windows, the view outside makes no sense. Even if not, your hands, your face, your feet seem like an uncertain thing. It's the feel of reality itself tearing apart, reshaping, reconnecting, thread by thread.

And suddenly, there's a beach— or ocean, whichever you land in. Smoke. Fire. Salt water churning up, fizzing around.

Maybe you crash, in a ship wrecking into sand. Maybe you merely stumble out of a portal, a ragged wormhole in space. Or maybe you fall off the back of an incredible steed, some creature that carried you into this place. Either way, there's pandemonium around you. Incredibly, severe injuries are far and few between— nobody's screaming about the dead. But you might have to help pull someone free of wreckage, or move quickly to salvage burning belongings from the landing craft. Maybe it's the crafts themselves, that you're trying to salvage.

Likely, you don't know them, these other strangers who arrived here^[1]. Maybe you don't trust them— you just came out of a dying world, after all. But you all have one thing in common: you're here now.

When you get a second to breathe, maybe you'll see it. The brilliant green forest across the sand. Beyond that, the glint of a faraway city.

INTO THE WOODS

Your first night at Xistentia does not feature five-star accommodations, but as the sun begins to set, the forest offers everything you need to survive. By now, you may even have met your daemon, who'll help guide you through this. There is fallen wood to make fires for warmth and cooking, any number of rabbits, deer, and fish if that's what you're into eating. Those very same animals also provide guidance as to what vegetation is edible, including a variety of vine mushrooms, fruits, and flowers. If you're the kind of creature that mostly eats other sentient creatures, well. Technically, there are a lot of those hanging out too^[2]! Now and then, you'll see tiny, winged humanoid creatures the height of a finger dart in and out of view.

A resourceful group, the multiversal refugees have determined ways to create shelters, using wreckage, supplies, and basic survival knowhow. There aren't enough blankets to go around, but the weather is mild and the fires seem to keep out any aggressive creatures.


Things get quiet. This could be a good time to meet the others under less fraught circumstances. Maybe you'll see some familiar faces and reunite with others who fled from your dying world; maybe you'll meet someone new.

Try not to seek out and fight any Rock Trolls. It's still early.

ENTER THE CITY

The city is beautiful, even with the vines covering everything, the streams running down half the streets, the massive white deer leaping off under the highway overpasses. The architecture of the skyscrapers is incredible to look at, modern and sweeping. It's clear that terraced gardens were part of the building design, and some of the greenery that lines the street had been part of the original city plan. This is a city of great potential.

And it knows you're here. As you walk by, beacons like streetlamps begin to emit a gentle glow, registering your presence. No doors are locked, though you might find yourself chasing out nests of silver-winged birds and bug-eyed rabbits.

Here, you can claim empty shops or the clothing and other sales items inside of them. Apartment complexes aren't difficult to find in a range of sizes; nor are standalone homes, brownstones, loft studios. Penthouses may not feel like penthouses when there's a thin layer of dust growing on everything and a flower growing out of the sink, but you know what? Maybe that little bud is gonna be your first roommate.

It's the strangest thing. After a few days, the lights begin to work and the water begins to run, fully operational within the unseen sewer system. At some point, the keys to your house or residence are going to turn up. Your daemon will help you find what you need. F.A.TE.S. welcomes you.

NETWORK

By now you've settled in. You have some time to explore the city, the woods, and your new kit.

Chances are pretty good that your daemon is not a phone or a computer or a wax-sealed piece of parchment or a Howler, nothing with a convenient camera or a keyboard; it probably isn't even a pocket sized. Likelier, it stares at you with eyes that contain the lenses-- or powers-- of a camera, and some part of its body projects a holographic keyboard into the air. For those of us who are not accustomed to manipulating intangible light prisms, it's about as intuitive to type on as shaping a cloud with your fingers.

But here's your network access. Accessible to all your fellow travelers in XISTENTIA.

Misfires, typos, and blurry video footage are likely. Time to feel like a Luddite!

CHOOSE YOUR OWN ADVENTURE

hells yeah

Footnotes

1. Some of these can be nameless, plot-device NPCs to facilitate interactions! But even in this case, please avoid gore in describing their current state of being. Anyone dead or catastrophically injured will have disappeared by the time your characters make it to Xistentia. There are no corpses or dying here.
   
   
2. But like OOCly ask permission ofc.

Comments

Ronan Lynch | The Raven Cycle

[fiachdubh]

i. the beach

[When Ronan wakes up, the first thing he sees is sand. The grains appear massive, but that's because he's pressed against the ground, his face hurting. When he takes stock, actually - everything hurts, from head to toe, body feeling like one of a broken doll. He closes his eyes, pushes up with a grunt, arms trembling with the effort. He is one walking - almost walking - bruise, covered in sand and scratches.

Opening his eyes again is an effort, and there is fear there, because this is not home, it is definitely not Cabeswater, and it's possible his world is gone - and everyone in it, too. The thought is like the Unmaker carving into his stomach from the inside out, breaking him apart piece by piece.

Kerah! The sound makes him look up immediately, his heart lurching when he sees Chainsaw flying down in lazy circles until she lands in front of him. But it's not - soon enough, she's startled talking to him, and explaining the situation, where he is. His world is dying, but not quite dead yet. Time to get that fixed, then.

He looks down at Chainsaw - no, Chainsawd, she's a daemon, not his actual bird, and grits his teeth. There is sand in his mouth.]

Do you even know where I can get some fucking water around here?

ii. the forest

[He feels like he's been walking for hours, but maybe - maybe time is a different construct in this forest, like in Cabeswater. This place is definitely different from home, and the trees, as he walks through them with Chainsawd on his shoulder, feel taller than they should be, hiding the sunlight more, the canopy too thick. Maybe it's just Ronan, for once not entirely feeling at home in a forest. Like he's a foreign entity in a world made for someone else.

He wonders if he can still dream, here.

He can't really stop to check, not right now when he's alone, vulnerable and somewhere without any protection. Someone could just easily slit his throat while he's not paying attention.

There's a campfire, a few yards away, and Ronan isn't - he isn't much of a sociable creature, or nice, but maybe whoever lit that fire can give him some information, or at least, a match. Sometimes, you just gotta suck it up, and put on your best Gansey smile.]

Hi. How'd you get that fire started?

[There. Polite, concise, etc etc. Totally not abrupt.]

iii. wildcard

[Throw me anything!]

((will match brackets or prose, I don't mind either!))

forest!!

[rekt]

[ seated by the fire is a scrawny teenage boy, and it seems fire wasn't the only thing he was capable of putting together. there's a hut somewhere nearby constructed by branches strapped together and larger plant leaves laid over it and closing it in, some meat nearby that was probably once a rabbit or other small forest critter, and a longer stick that looks a lot like a spear. but for now, murphy's huddled up by the fire, with one of those big ass white elk things just chilling behind him being a nice back rest (thanks, daemon), head popping up to peer at this other kid that comes wandering up. this'll be fun, considering he isn't nearly anyone sociable or nice either. ]

You can do it the old fashion, rubbing sticks together way. But assuming you don't want to spend an hour being freaking miserable-- [ Digging in the ratty backpack that sat next to him, Murphy pulls out a small lighter, one he'd had packed in his 'in case of apocalypse emergency' bag, because he's a person who's legitimately paranoid of that. coming out of a world like that, into a place as unnaturally peaceful as eudio, it'd been a thing he carried everywhere with him. fortunately enough, he was actually prepared for this end of the world.

however, even if he had two lighters, john murphy isn't the kind of person to give away supplies vital for his survival out of charity. he doesn't know any of these people, outside of kavinsky and aric (the former of which is probably in a hut like thing somewhere crying about having to touch dirt) so he hardly trusts a borrowed item to be returned either. ]

Grab some dry sticks and leaves and I'll light it for you. [ he isn't completely an unsharing douche, but mostly, yeah. ] Or, I can teach you the cave man method.

[ rubbing sticks together and being angry. ]

[fiachdubh]

[Anger was one of Ronan's favorite things, and he could easily get enough of it to start a fire just by rubbing sticks or throwing rocks against each other, but a lighter was a faster solution - less exhausting, since Ronan was very wary of falling asleep here. Especially with people like that kid in front of him - looking ready to help enough, but also looking shady as fuck. Not that Ronan looked much better, half covered in sand, the rest of him covered in bruises and scratches, walking around with a raven like it was a normal thing to do.

He tugs on his leather bands, then nods curtly, straightening his shoulders.]

Cool. I'll be right back.

[He turns and walks into the undergrowth, asking Chainsawd to give him some light as he goes to pick up some dry wood and moss and leaves, feeling out of his depth. It's never been an issue, surviving; he could dream whatever shit he needed and he was set, but trying to work it without his dreams was going to be difficult. Right now, even more acutely than before, he misses Adam. The two of them would work this out.

When he gets back to the campfire, he crouches opposite from the guy, worrying the leather band with his teeth for a moment.]

You seen anyone else around? [Maybe Adam made the jump into this world, too. Surely he's not the only one.]

[rekt]

[ friction fires, as much as their earth skills teacher seemed to love them, are an exercise in self hatred, really. but it would give someone something to do for a few hours, if you're looking for boredom relief. murphy is not yet that desperate, so he's glad when the kid comes back with just a bunch of stuff to light up.

mournfully, murphy pushes up to stand, moving from his own campfire to go inspect what ronan brought him, as he answers the question. ]

People were all over the beach, but only ones I knew were others from Eudio. You know it?

[ clearly, people came here from all over, like that had been brought into Eudio before, so the ones he knows are twice displaced, but it doesn't seem to be the case with everyone. a couple pieces of ronan's find are tossed aside, but for the most part, it's good, and murphy arranges it all with a little nest of things to catch faster tucked into the middle. ]

Where do you want this thing?

[ assuming ronan isn't planning on hanging out with him all night, but then again, he wouldn't bar him from it either. ]

[fiachdubh]

No. [It's as quick and abrupt as Ronan knows how to make it sound. He's not going to ask if this guy knows about Henrietta - he's pretty fucking sure he'd have known him if he did. He looks like the type of guys that would hang out with Kavinsky.

The fact that Ronan himself did that, for a while, doesn't sit so well in his stomach. He clenches his jaw, schools his face to be as blank as possible. The edge of a knife. Dangerous enough to be worrying, at least.

He motions towards the other side of the clearing. There was a tree there that had a large enough hollow that Ronan could sort of settle in it. From there, they could still see each other.]

That tree over there. I can go somewhere else if you want this place for yourself.

[He wouldn't really care.]

( wildcard. )

[aberth]

[ It's Chainsaw, but not Chainsaw, that is the first to alert him to Ronan's presence. He hears her shrill cry a block away and Adam doesn't think, doesn't even pause before he's running, climbing over vines and vegetation and scrambling down green sidewalks to chase the sound. His own daemon follows at the same pace, but Adam couldn't care less if it keeps up, heart hammering in his throat and a desperation he hadn't known possible thrumming in his veins.

He'd thought he was alone. He'd thought that they'd won only for it all to be taken from him. He'd thought that it was just his luck, to have been in love only to lose it.

So he almost falls, when he rounds the corner and sees Ronan's profile in the dim light. He catches himself at the last minute, lungs aching as he calls out the other boy's name, closing the distance as he turns. Adam notes the surprise on his face, but reaches for him anyway, shaking hands curling around his biceps as if he's half afraid Ronan might turn to smoke and disappear. ]

Jesus Christ, Lynch.

[ He's panting, and dirty, and terrified, but there's a wild light in his eyes now. Adam shakes him a little, clearly overcome and then leans in to kiss him, sharp and hungry and tasting like salt.

Decorum be damned. ]

I thought I was the only one.

[fiachdubh]

[ Ronan had been walking around aimlessly for hours, Chainsawd flying circles above his head, sometimes letting out a sound to alert him to someone being close. And she does then, too, making Ronan stiffen, shoulders straight and ears straining. There's noise, coming closer, the pounding of pavement, and then he sees -

Adam. Adam. It surprises Ronan that his knees don't give out as he watches, frozen in place and absolutely bewildered, as Adam runs top speed to him, grabs him, breathless and dirty, alive, alive, alive. Ronan opens his mouth to speak, unsure what he'd say, when Adam surges up and kisses him, urgency in every one of his movements. Ronan stumbles a step into Adam, reaches out to steady himself by holding on to him, the words he wanted to say turning into a noise as they break apart. ]

So did I. [ His voice is raspy, his eyes traveling all over Adam's face. He brushes a hand through his hair, pushing it off of his forehead, unconsciously checking for any injuries. ] Fuck, Parrish, I -

[ He doesn't know exactly what to say, so he just pulls Adam into a hug. ]

[aberth]

[ He has to force his hands to loosen their deathlike grip on Ronan's biceps, but they turn gentle when they probe his jaw, brush across his cheek and down to the spilled ink against his throat. Ronan hugs him then, and the sound it pulls from Adam is wrecked even as he pushes into it, one arm curling around his boyfriend's waist, the other cupping his neck. It doesn't quite settle the feeling inside of his skin but it evens out the fear. He's not alone.

And there's never been a problem the two of them can't solve. ]

Are you okay?

[ His voice is muffled against Ronan's shoulder. He smells like smoke too, and Adam's palm presses to his spine delicately, even though he wishes he could crawl under the other boy's skin right now. ]

Are you hurt? [ He pulls away, sandy brows a knot of concern, eyes restless. ] There were so many people, and some of them -- you're all right?

Beach

[dreamkid]

[ Before Chainsawd can give an answer, another voice joins the conversation, shouting across the beach over the sound of the waves. ]

Ronan, hey, Ronan!

[ There's a knot on his leg, and a bit of blood on his collar from a cut on his cheek, but ignoring that and the damp, rumpled appearance of his clothes, Matthew Lynch looks more like a boy on vacation than a kid who crash-landed on a mysterious island or continent or whatever this is (he's yet to make much of a study of the place.) He trots over eagerly, kicking up sand, which is already covering his bare feet and calves. His equally sandy sneakers swing from one hand.

If he was afraid--and he was, of course, during the disintegration of their world and subsequent events--there is no trace of that fear in him now, upon seeing his older brother. He may not be entirely his joyful, carefree self, but he's definitely relieved, and that's enough. ]

Ronan, you're here, too! Have you seen Declan?

[ One more thing, there's a butterfly attempting to cling to his shirt, larger than a butterfly has any right to be, but there it is, prismatic wings fluttering and delicate legs struggling to keep their grip as Matthew runs. He hardly seems to notice. ]

[fiachdubh]

Jesus fucking Christ. [ Ronan spits out the words like venom, anger rising up in him like a tidal wave as he hears, then sees his little brother jogging up to him. He looks - well, not too bad or injured, which is good, but he's here, which may not be. At least, somewhere where Ronan can keep an eye on him.

And he's still kicking and moving and being so utterly Matthew, which means that Ronan's magic must still work, even here. The thought is relief, and also terrifying; what if something happened, to either of them? Stomach knotted tight, Ronan brushes sand off of his shirt before meeting Matthew halfway, his large hand wrapping around the back of his brother's neck, forcing him to look up and let Ronan check him for any other injuries than on his leg and cheek. ]

Are you okay? How the hell did you end up here?

[ Ronan had gone through a tear in Cabeswater, but Matthew hadn't been with him. He was supposed to be in DC, with Declan. Was Declan here, too? Fuck. ]

Haven't seen him.

[dreamkid]

[ Matthew obediently allows himself to be checked over, making no move to shrug away the hand on his neck. ]

Don't be mad, [ he asks, briefly touching Ronan's forearm in a small attempt to calm him down, offer some comfort. ] I don't really get it. Everything went all weird like the whole world was falling apart, and then, umm, I guess I passed out or something.

[ Or something. His nose scrunches. It was very weird, like reaching the part of a video game where it asks "Do you want to continue?", so he selected "Yes" and then there was a cutscene and now he's here. Except he doesn't totally remember what the cutscene was.

(In actuality, having no magic of his own, or the technological resources to create his own escape route, Matthew just piggybacked his way here on his dream connections. That's what we're going with.) ]

And when I woke up I was on the beach. And this huge butterfly started talking to me.

[ Because that's normal. Said butterfly has crawled its way up his shirt and is now chilling on his shoulder, looking at Ronan with its thousand butterfly eyes. The daemon is almost a little creepy, but there's also a dreamy, otherworldly quality in its colors and markings that make the thing more pleasant. ]

If we're here, Declan's gotta be, though, right? We just have to find him.

ii

[helical]

[ alec looks up at the sound of someone approaching, but returns his attention to his fire until ronan is nearer and speaks up. while alec is feeling worry wear him down, concern for his world and his friends and his family feeling like a weight on his shoulders, he bites back his automatic instinct to tell him to get lost. none of them will get anywhere if they start treating each other like that. if they want to survive and save their world, then they need to work together.

his response is curt, but still a response. ]

Heat rune. [ he holds up his stele, as if that was self explanatory, but he's not much in the mood for a shadowhunters lesson. he is, however, predisposed to help this stranger with a bird on his shoulder, if he needs it. everyone needs fire, a shelter of some kind, until they can figure out where to go from here.

he looks around ronan, trying to see where he might be setting camp, seeing nothing. he offers anyway. ]

Need help with yours? I can light it for you.

[fiachdubh]

[ On his way, Ronan had spotted a tree, with a massive hollow in its base, ideal for him to huddle inside of and go unnoticed. Hopefully, it won't give him any kind of visions of the future or the past or whatever else was shown to the others in Cabeswater, but this forest? Isn't Cabeswater. It's not whispering to him in Latin, and time isn't stopping, here.

The guy says heat rune like it makes sense, showing some kind of wand, which. You know, if his magic works here, then Ronan's might, too, and he could dream himself a storm lighter that never runs out. When he can safely sleep.

Bringing his bracelet to his mouth, Ronan tugs on it lightly, the leather soft as butter, still now, after so much time being run ragged by Ronan and his bad habits. ]

Yeah, I guess. I'm thinking of setting up over there. [ He motions to the tree, a little ways away. ] I need to get - shit, though, dry wood.

[ He doesn't want to admit that survival is not a skill he's had to learn. Bear Grylls, Ronan is not. ]

Your rune - it's magic?

[helical]

I've got some. [ he jerks his chin toward a pile of wood, extra he'd gathered before making a fire, to have enough for a second or to keep fuelling it. he doesn't mind going to get more, so might as well let ronan take a pile. ] Help yourself.

[ he stands from where he'd been crouching, gesturing at his neck, arms, the rest of him. ]

Runes like these are angelic power. [ it's not the same as magic. most shadowhunters would not like it being referred to as magic, in fact, but alec isn't most shadowhunters anymore. ] If I draw the heat one with this — [ wiggles stele. ] It makes fire.

[ looking to where ronan pointed he'd like to make camp, alec looks at the dry wood and back to the tree. ] I'll help you get all that over there.

[ then ronan will get a demonstration of said heat rune. for now, alec picks up an armful of the wood, leaving the rest for ronan to grab. ]

forest

[locoparentis]

[Maybe he's not sure what he expected. Declan is good at nothing more than blending in, in matching the society he's in, in survival. You don't belong to Niall Lynch (and let's be honest, that's what Declan was, a first, loyal son, a soldier son) and not learn this, not if you want to keep yourself and your family alive.

His charm was always a by product of this instinct.

But he's so off guard here that when he hears Ronan's voice he's a bit shocked, a bit horrified. And maybe even more than Ronan is so out of mind that he doesn't recognize his own fucking brother at first.

(To be fair, it's an odd angle.

To be fair, it's the back of Declan's head.

To be fair, Declan isn't supposed to be here.)]

Didn't Dad teach you shit?

[Declan looks over, bare gaze.]

[fiachdubh]

Fucking shit. [ Ronan can't help the curse escaping him when he recognizes Declan, his knees suddenly feeling like jelly. Their eyes meet, and he's transported right back to dirty fights against cars, thoughtless punches and angry words spat at each other.

His first reaction is, what the fuck is Declan doing here?

His second reaction is: ]

Fuck you, you asshole. [ Because none of them gets to bring up their father without making the other(s) bare their teeth. ]

He's taught me plenty. [ Declan knows that. Niall Lynch taught Ronan how to punch, and how to dream, and how to spin stories. How to smile like you don't mean it. ] But he didn't go camping with me. [ A Declan-and-Daddy special, those few trips had been. ]

[locoparentis]

[Declan knows that what Niall taught was the things that Niall wanted to see: music and boxing and a larger than life boy. Ronan is the model of the man Niall wished he could be: Declan is the model of the man that Niall actually was. Declan was good at music, and boxing, and charm, but also at con jobs and surviving.

Ronan couldn't lie to save his fucking life, if he even would bring himself to try.]

Lucky you.

[Said without any actual self-pity, for all that the words engender the feeling. Declan stokes the fire a little, and nods his head up.]

Better sit down.

forest :U

[astralera]

[ Era looks up in surprise - most of the others have left her to herself (she has had the passing thought that it may be due to her non-Hyur appearance. it's made her keep her tail tucked against her and out sight) and so she hadn't been expecting to be addressed. Given that she is a woman of very few words when around strangers, Era supposes that the easiest way to answer is by showing.

Her thaumaturge pole is still on the ground beside her rather than back inside her bag, so it's just as simple as picking it up and using it to hurl a ball of fire into the flames. ]

[fiachdubh]

[ He can't tell if she doesn't speak because she can't, or won't, but it doesn't bother him. Opal, after all, is a girl of very few words, and it's definitely one of Ronan's favorite things about her.

The tool she uses could have come straight from one of Ronan's dreams, and he commits it to memory, wondering if he could recreate it, put his own twist on it. He crouches close to it, licking his lips as he asks (since she obviously can understand him), a hand open. ]

Can I? I'll just look for a second.

[astralera]

[ Black magic is no joke - it is dangerous, and those without a soul crystal are at risk of incinerating themselves from the inside out. So she is smart to hesitate, Magitek Rod still active and glowing in her hand.

Back home Era knows from experience that her magic weapons won't work for others, so attuned to her own aether. Here though, she is uncertain.

She worries her bottom lip, conflicted. Finally she shakes her head softly, placing the rod back on her lap. ]

It's dangerous.

[ Perhaps if she knew him better she might try crafting him a small one-handed rod. Her alchemy and carpentry skills should be good enough to make a beginner's weapon, even with such limited supplies. ]

I can make you a torch if you need fire.

wildcard

[amplifyings]

[ Were she still back in Henrietta she wouldn't have found the presence of a raven swooping overhead very strange, but here -- where ever here is, her own daemon hadn't been very helpful in the whole task of explaining and Blue had still been a little too panicked and frazzled to pay close attention and follow along. -- it's something that stands out. It's a stark contrast to the other things she's seen and maybe Blue's just a little too hopeful that this particular raven is the one she's familiar with. The one pulled out of an equally raven-like boy's dream.

If she's here, then maybe everyone else is too?
If Chainsaw was here, then Ronan had to be here.
If Ronan was here, then maybe Adam was here.
And if both of them were here then maybe Gansey was too. (And while it's quite a jump to be making, the thought alone makes her heart pound wildly in her chest. Not that she doesn't love all her raven boys, but there's no denying her clear favoritism.)

It's honestly a little difficult for Blue to follow the bird, she has to wind her way through thick foliage in the forest, double back down dead end alleyways that she comes to, and a few times she even loses sight of the raven only to spot her again a good distance away. A little exhausted from the chase, she eventually finds him -- and she's not entirely sure why, but she approaches the boy with caution, the leaves of her daemon rustling quietly and likely giving her away only moments before her voice does. ]

Ronan? [ And while Ronan's probably not her #1 Favorite Raven Boy of All Time (which she's sure he's really torn up about.), there's still a wave of relief that she feels washing over her when she sees him. Ronan's something familiar, a reminder of home, one of her four missing pieces and finding him makes her feel just a little less empty inside. ] You're here? [ Her tone is a mixture of realization, relief, and maybe just the slightest skepticism. ]

[fiachdubh]

[ Sending his daemon on some reconnaissance mission had felt dumb the second she'd been gone. He hadn't quite realized how much of a reassuring presence she'd been.

But he needed it. More than Chainsawd, he needed to know if his friends were here, and if they were, if they were alive and safe and okay. The lack of knowledge was tearing him up inside, like the Unmaker had felt, and Ronan was constantly brushing a hand under his nose, certain it was oozing black blood like it had back then.

Back then when Gansey had died. Back then when Ronan had cried.

Chainsawd is gone, and Ronan busies himself with exploring the city, trying his best not to get lost, even though he knows there is very little chance he won't. He keeps an eye to the sky as he moves from street to street, fingers grazing mossy vines growing up along the walls of abandoned buildings. it looks eerie, like a place he shouldn't be allowed to visit. Hallowed ground.

He loses focus and doesn't even track Chainsawd coming back until he hears a voice that he recognizes, turning around to see Blue, diminutive as ever, looking strangely like she belongs, in this mess of metal and greenery, her hair wispy around her head. ]

Sargent. [ There's a hint of relief in his voice, because sure, he might like to pretend he gives no fucks about her, he's actually grown so used to her, her presence, and her easy affection that he's just simply glad that she's okay. ] And so are you. [ He crosses his arms over his chest. ]

Seen anybody else?

[amplifyings]

[ Maybe were he Adam, Gansey, or Noah, Blue would have run right up to him, flung her arms around his shoulders and hugged him like he was the only thing keeping her tethered to the planet. But, this was Ronan Lynch, and public displays of affection weren't something that he often participated in -- or probably wanted to be forced into. So, for as tempting as it might be, she tosses the fleeting idea away and settles on just closing the distance between them and examining his features with a scrutinizing gaze.

It's not that she doesn't believe he's her Ronan, it's just.... well, nothing seems to make much sense in this strange world she's found herself in and it doesn't seem too far-fetched to think that this person before her is some kind of Ronan clone. Or Ronan robot.

(Why exactly someone would feel so inclined to make a Ronan robot, or clone, she's also still trying to grasp. One thing at a time.)

Blue isn't sure what gives him away as 100% real and bonafide Ronan, there's just a feeling inside of her of something clicking into place. Like two pieces of a puzzle that, while they don't provide a complete and clear picture, are still vital to its entirety, and eventually her gaze softens, returning to something neutral.

Or rather -- slight relief, mild confusion and increasing curiosity giving the look of being neutral. ]

No, just you. [ She shakes her head, her tree-like daemon peeking out from behind one of her legs, crouched low enough that the four branch appendages that it uses for legs are just about completely hidden inside of its foliage, as though it's currently feeling very intimidated by Ronan's presence. ]

You haven't either? [ Because finding someone only to split up again seems a bit counterproductive, and aside from Chainsaw (or rather, Chainsawd, but that's not a discovery she's made yet.) she doesn't see anyone else here. ]

forest

[skaikru]

( it's still a little abrupt, even if she'd heard him coming. even if the flame — flamed, the soft echo of a voice had insisted a few times over whenever clarke had misspoken — had whispered something is coming before footfalls even crushed a leaf or snapped a twig. clarke had been staring into darkness, searching her surroundings past the circle of light her little cooking fire offered, but still hadn't spotted the boy until he spoke. she had startled just a little, half expecting something big and violent from the way the chip in her palm had hissed, but he was —

just a boy. with a polite question, and until he proved to be an impolite threat, he could be treated kindly enough. )

I — ( listened, clarke almost says. but the idea of saying it out loud — i listened to an ominous, disembodied voice that's coming from an a.i. that used to just understand latin about which rocks to pick up from the beach — is still a little ridiculous; doesn't roll off the tongue.

so instead, she safely (and a little protectively) pockets flamed, simultaneously withdrawing two decent sized chunks of rock; one glinting with the sheen of fool's gold, the other a murky mineral quartz. flint and tinder, salvaged from nature.

clarke extends her arm, and the rocks knock together, though not with enough force to spark. )

You can have them, if you need them. I can find more.

( can't have the rabbit roasting over the fire, however. that she had caught with her own two hands, and that had been hard. )

[fiachdubh]

Flint and tinder, seriously. [ His voice is flat, but he extends a hand for her to drop the rocks into. They have been reduced to being cavemen, apparently, slamming rocks together in hopes it will create a flame.

It's so fucking backward. He could just dream fucking anything, a torch that doesn't ever die, a portable campfire, whatever he wants. And here he is, rolling two rocks in his hand carefully. ]

I shouldn't take yours. I can find my own. Where d'you find them?