JANUARY TEST DRIVE MEME

[oasismods]

"-̭̫̜̩̪̑̈́̓̌̐-̞͓̘̩͖̿́͒͑͘░͙͈̥̦̼̌̊̒̾̅░̨̢̠͙̖̉͊̽͌͝░̫͔͎̤̘̀̑͋͛̾ȩ̨̬̙͛̐̋̀̕͜m̻̬͈̠͒̌͌̍͌͜ ̡̲͈̙̼̽̾͆̊̃f̖̟͉̲̪̈́̾̀̂̀ą̢̯̘̙́̇͑̈̋i̪̱̙̘̟͌́̄̊͘ļ̢̛̲͕̣͐̎̿͛u͕̣̥̘̳̓̃͗͠͝r͉̠̗͖̰̉̅͗̚͘ę̛̺̥̝̘̄͑̌̈́.̣̫͕̰̭̓͂̈́̓͊ ̟̗͔̟͋̿̒̚̚ͅA̠̫̬̼̣̒̇͛́̊l̫̬͎̤͈͑̀͂̐̆ë̡̧̝̺͖́̍̂͂͝r͙͍̱̫͕̆͊̾͐̕ţ͙̻̣̝͒́̄̈́͆!͕̫͓͉̹̌̍̽̂̓ ̧̛̲͎͖̳̌̆̾̏░͖̲̞̼̹̇̄̌̈́̊░̡͍͎͍̘̇̈́̕͝░̪͚̼̦̃̋͊̆͜͠è̛̞̬͙̠̖̊͌̂m͖̝̟̗̣̽̄̐̚͠ ̛̹̯͈̮̼̈́͊͌͠f̧̰̖͋̊̈̊̑͜͜ą̨͚͎̹̀̎̑͋́i̞̬͓̭̳̎́̓͘͠l̢͈̲͇͕̈́̆̐̌̈́ư̰̞͚̻̺̔͑̓̑ṛ͎̯͚̇̔̾̔̏͜ę̛̻̼̭͊͆̕͜͝.̯̖̫̣͔̔̋̔̽͠ ̺̼̟̲͌́͒̔̅ͅĄ̹̝̖̺̂̇̽̒͊ĺ̛̺̰̰̤͎̾͗͝e̛̗̭̻͕̹̓̔͆̆r̢̛͙͖̘̻̈̚̚͘t̰̲̠̖̻̉͂̆̓̇!̬̞̟͉̺̂͆̊͑͐"

You awaken to godawful static overlaying a female voice that's too monotone to be anything but a recording. The static makes it difficult to understand the warning, but it's clearly a warning if your surroundings tell you anything...

You're buckled into a sturdy seat bolted to the wall behind you. Around you, there are dozens of others like you, some awake and others still unconscious, but it seems most of the seats lining the walls are occupied. The lights are dim, likely auxiliary lighting, leaving you mostly in the dark. You smell smoke and hear the sizzling crackle of electrical systems popping and shorting out. Some of the seats were jarred off the wall, leaving the occupants either wounded or dead. Count yourself lucky all you have is a headache and various aches accounted to whiplash.

You appear to be in a drop ship or an escape vessel of some form but the pilot is dead and the hull bears a massive gash where it buckled under the impact and sheered off. Through the door-sized opening, you can see vegetation. The air that wafts in is heavy with a humid heat, but it's obviously breathable.

Once you make your way outside, you'll see greenery: Trees, grass, and shrubs tangled with vines that grow wildly and suffocate the trees they climb. In the distance, behind the ship, you can make out a sandy desert that seems to stretch on endlessly. Forward through the trees, however, you may see a crumbling wall, but more importantly, you'll see signs of civilisation. Buildings and other structures seem contained within those decrepit walls. Maybe the natives can fill you in on what's going on, because the last thing you remember isn't being in an escape shuttle. As a matter of fact, you don't remember much about your arrival or where you are. But it's going to be a bit of a hike, better get moving. Though you might want to grab the backpack of supplies under your seat before you go.

"W̞͓̝͓̓̀̍̒͘͜ȃ̢̗̪̤͇̔̃̚͝░̟͙̯̳̱̈͂̈́̈́͠n̬̘̬̤̠͛̅̈́͋͝i͓̟͈͎͙̐̆̈́̔̓n̡̟̤̟̤̑͐͋͐̚g̩̱͖͉̻͌͛̈͆̈́!̧̪̰͇̦̓̂̆̌͝ ̢͔̣̠̗̾̉́̌̒C̢̥̟͍͊͊͑̀̚ͅr̛͙̪̙̟͐̽̓̅͜i̫͖̻̣̘̽̑͂̾̎t̩͇̦̬̞͊̌̑̈́͝i̡̳̠̞̐̿̍̎̀͜c̡͕͙͕͕̓̊̌̾͘å̼̯͍̙̲̍̏̚͝l̢̥͉̮̙̋̆͐̆́ ̢̰̞͕̯̋̈́̈́̋͌f͇͔̟̻̈̽͌̒̉ͅa̳̰̠͉͔͒̑̈̈͘i̟̭̦̺͎̍̾̽̈́̐░͕̣̥̭͛̿̓̽̐ͅ░̰̪̠͇͍̆͛̀͝͝░̘̱̩̳̘͆̈́̆̀̚e̛̻͈̳̳̺̊̔̚̕.͙̟̳̼̾̀̅͊͊ͅ"

With that, the power dies, leaving the drop ship in the dark, crackling and groaning as the hull cools from its catastrophic re-entry.

---

[MOD NOTES: TDM threads may be used as game canon.]

Comments

Glenn Rhee - The Walking Dead // Better Late Than Never?

[dirtypizzaboy]

The world felt like it was spinning; not a good sensation. The last thing he remembered? Nicholas. The very pointed want for revenge washing through his senses; the tug at his soul, put a bullet in him and end it. Just like he wanted to do to you, because you know him. You see through him, and you are looking at some semblance of yourself... Do it. The struggle had been brutal, but in the end? In the end, he'd been unable to. Was it pity? Was it that understanding that owned him in the second? That sense of seeing a possibility of self in the mirror-being of a coward? That isn't me. I'm not him, and I never would have been... Maybe it was just empathy then, if not that reflection? He wasn't sure. All Glenn knew was that he'd not pulled the trigger.

And then, he was here. Wherever here was. Not the world he knew; or at least, if it was in the world he knew. It was a far cry from the woods of Alexandria. For starters, he was in a seat, and there was so much technology that a part of his soul did a back-flip for joy - until he recognized the fact that he was in dire circumstances. Surprise, Glenn. First thing was first; get out of the straps, see if anything could be salvaged, and then see if anyone else needed help. There were empty seats around him, though some were filled with the obviously dead... And the unconscious.

And if he was here, and there were other people were here? Was Maggie here?

"Maggie?!" He got himself out of the straps, was shuffling under the seats for the backpack he felt against his leg - and looking around frantically as soon as he could move more freely. Glenn called for his wife again; the panic in his voice something he couldn't help. He didn't see her. Was she outside? Was she alive? Was she here?

/tackle hugs

[dirtyredneck]

Maggie?

Daryl's head snapped up and the backpack he'd dragged out of the tangled mess of the crashed ship dropped from his fingers. He knew that voice. He knew the panic in it. The fear. It was the same emotions that thrummed through his own bones, the ones he didn't want to telegraph.

Daryl had checked most of the ship by that point, but he hadn't finished his check. Too many broken struts were in the way for him to do it all in one go. But he had a reason to push on through now. A reason to go faster and ignore what caution he'd been taking. He had people to get to.

"Glenn!" he barked as he climbed in the carrier at the other end from his friend, body silhouetted by the sunlight beating down on the crash site.

/squeals and snuggles

[dirtypizzaboy]

He was still looking; over faces, hope running high in his heart. He'd lost her once, and found her - why wouldn't he find her again? His mind ran over the past, seeing it all in flashes which were fully understood if only half-seen by his mind's eye. Things he'd remember forever. Still, she wasn't there. That he could see. A whisper of her name fell from his lips, and he went to turn away from those he didn't recognize - before compassion stopped him and he went to try to free one of the unconscious people from where they were strapped in.

And then, he was startled to hear his name. Daryl. He'd know that voice anywhere. Glenn's heart raised in joy from the pit of his stomach, tears coming to his eyes because he wasn't alone, and one of the people he loved most in the world - had been with the longest, even longer than Maggie - was there with him. He didn't shed those tears, of course; he wiped them away with the back of his hand and sniffled in the emotions before answering.

"Daryl!" He called back to his friend. Heart steadied; he managed to keep the depth of it all under wraps; even if there was a small shake in his voice. "I'm over here!" Glenn was then centering his attention on the man he'd unstrapped, wondering if he should pour some water on the guy's face or just... He didn't want to leave him. That wouldn't be right, not after already taking the first steps of helping him free.

[dirtyredneck]

Daryl moved through the space to the darkened set of seats Glenn had been hidden in. He had to duck a bar and some sparking wires he'd been avoiding taking. But then he was there and it was Glenn. Whole, alive, a bit worse for wear, but Glenn all the same.

Daryl grabbed him by the arm and pulled him in for a psudo-hug where Glenn's shoulder ended up somewhere in the middle of his chest and Daryl's forehead ended up knocking into the side of Glenn's head. He released his friend quick, but let his hand settle and linger on that same shoulder for another moment while he spoke.

"Leave him," he ordered, voice raw, but relieved. "He's safe enough in here for now and it's gonna be hell getting past that strut. We can check on him later, see if he's come around."

of course!!! Super excited to see your reserve c:

[limped]

Newt had been awake for a while, he'd met a shape-shifter - supposedly - he'd helped Tommy with his injury and he was heading back to get them a few more things from the dropship that he'd seen. Food, water - god, he was such a hoarder when it came to water since being in the Scorch. If he had his way he'd never be so dehydrated his lips were cracking, and his throat was so dry it hurt to breathe. Here? it looked like the people didn't want them to dehydrate.

He was just picking up a jug of water when he heard a shout Maggie! It startled him - making him jump a little, spinning around to peer at the Asian making all the racket. "Buggin' calm down, you're gonna give us all a headache." The guy didn't look that old, but Newt wasn't that great at guesstimating ages, all he was used to was the Glade with the other boys his a little over his age and younger. "Breathe and tell me what this Maggie of yours looks like?" Newt didn't really trust adults, but he had a weakness for Asians and still this guy looked young.

"We'll see if we can find her, if ya quit the yellin'. Four eyes, better than two, right?" The once runner squinted, holding the forgotten jug of water to his own chest, pressing a large bag of trail-mix between it.

Awesome :D And aww <3

[dirtypizzaboy]

Because he wanted to see her; had to know if she'd made it there - he was calling for her again. Not that it might do any good, but it felt wrong not to seek her, if she could be found. He wasn't one to give up. I'm a glass half-full kinda guy. That was still something he could say - without any sarcasm at times; even if it was getting considerably more difficult as time went by.

When he was told to calm down by a voice he didn't know, he glanced at the youth with some irritation - but it didn't last long. Instead, he took a breath and looked the seeming kid over. Asking him to describe Maggie, of all things. He could dribble out all the romantic things which lay in his heart, but that wasn't the point of such a question; the guy would want solid truths, not the pictures that love painted in his soul.

"She's about as tall as me; brown hair that's straight and comes to her shoulders. She's got green eyes, and a hell of a smile. Thin, athletic build. She might be calling out for some dumbass named Glenn." He couldn't help the smirk then, knowing she'd be trying to track him down, too. If she were here. What if she wasn't? Where would she be then? Back in Alexandria? Some other place, maybe where he might never find her? No, he couldn't let that enter in his thoughts. He would find her. He would.

[limped]

If the Glader noticed the agitation, it was ignored, looked past in an attempt to bridge past nerves and suspicion. They didn't know each other, and he sure as hell wasn't acting like WCKD, so he must have been in the same boat as Newt and Thomas. Right, Thomas, was out there waiting for him, well, he could wait longer, as long as the shucky looking shank didn't get it in his head to wander off without Newt. Though, he doubted it, with the way Tommy watched him retreat back into the ship, looking like he was itching to accompany him.

The English teenager nodded slowly, dark brown eyes unblinking for a long moment before he wet his lips. "Glenn, that's you?" It's a logical conclusion, if he's hollering for her and describing her with a 'hell of a smile' he had to be her boyfriend or something. "Okay, if she's here, we'll find her. I haven't seen anyone matchin' that description and I've been awake for a while." Newt hesitated, unsure if he should tell this guy that people were heading out towards the thick of the forest, leaving this place behind to explore... No, that would probably freak him out - he'd save it in case they couldn't find Maggie and Glenn started freaking out again.

"Hey, greenie, how about ya get the torch out of your backpack and we can check the people that guy hasn't pulled out of the ship yet." God, he hoped this Maggie wasn't one of the dead bodies laying around the ship, or left in the seat. With a small annoyed noise, Newt shrugged his backpack off onto one shoulder, letting it settle on one of the empty seats to shove the items he'd previously been holding into it before yanking out his own flashlight.

Eric Dufosset | Original - so late

[incantamentum]

[Eric hadn't expected to find himself waking up strapped into a vessel of some kind, especially not when he couldn't even remember having boarded the damn thing. All he knew was that his senses were wrought with panic and unfamiliarity and he was rather sturdily and painfully secured against a wall. Oh... and there was death on the air.

For a moment he thought he'd been in a car crash which would really make the most sense, but even that seems quite hazy. All he knows is that he needs to get out of this seat now regardless of his limited knowledge of what was going on.

In the dim light he tries to take everything in, locating the buckle for his seatbelt and releasing the mechanism, its at this stage he realizes that he's actually surrounded by other people, taking in their waves of confusion and realizing that he's not alone in all of this. He spots backpacks under most of the seats and reaches below his own, snagging the strap of it and hauling it up over a shoulder before making his way to the door, the only source of natural light. He turns to a stranger seated near the door, clearing his throat.]

Are you coming? I don't feel that we should remain in here for too long... [Which was Eric's way of saying: I don't trust the metallic coffin please come with me, I don't want to be alone.]

[angelus]

[It took Stefan a few seconds to register the unfamiliar voice speaking to him. His lack of immediate response wasn't due to any sort of shell-shock following the bumpy ride turned crash landing that they'd just experienced. Honestly, he couldn't even remember much beyond waking up amidst the confusion to the unmistakably metallic smell of blood filling his senses. Apparently a good majority of the others who had been strapped in with them weren't so lucky to make it through the trip unscathed, and more than a few currently lay dead with any number of severed body parts strewn about the drop ship's interior compartment. Obviously this only added to the air of hysteria and chaos that seemed to grow by the minute as those who were still able continued to wake to the horrible realization that some crazy shit had just gone down.

But the distraction that the stranger provided was a good thing, and Stefan found himself focusing less on the blood and more on the man looking to make a hasty exit. He wouldn't have to ask twice, because Stefan knew that the longer he lingered here, the more intense he'd find the appeal of preying on the injured like he was doing them a favor. He doesn't hesitate to unfasten himself from his seat and reach for a bag of his own that had tumbled out from under one of the nearby seats only to end up next to his feet, before nodding in assent and making after the other man out the nearby door.]

[incantamentum]

[Once Eric drops out onto land he feels a lot more sure of himself. Part of him never liked vehicles, then again, part of him didn't like technology too much from time to time. He had too many warring memories of easier times when these things didn't exist so that sometimes it was hard to make peace with them.

He's not in too much pain, at least, not compared to the pain that some of the others must have been in. A minor concussion maybe, some muscular damage to his neck and back. Already he's whispering to the Spirit element, knitting these things slowly together. He could fix them, but if he'd been thrown from his seat? Those would've been wounds he couldn't fix. He finally looks to the stranger after his internal assessment, wondering if he should've worried about him sooner.]

Are you injured? [It was the only important question to be asking right now.]

[angelus]

[Likewise, the instant Stefan has dropped down to the ground below, the heady scent of blood that had been flooding his senses has already begun to diminish pretty substantially. It helped that the entrance to the drop ship hadn't exactly been parallel to the ground where they now stood. Looking behind him, it was clear that they were lucky to have survived at all given that it was obvious they'd crash landed here. It certainly explained the fatalities and injuries sustained by those still scrambling inside. And while he felt somewhat guilty for leaving without checking to see if he might be able to help some of the other survivors, Stefan knew better than to linger where the presence of human blood was sure to overwhelm him.

He looks back toward the man he'd followed out when Eric speaks to him again, thankful that they'd been close enough to the open door to vacate the twisted metal of the unfamiliar ship without any hassle. Any injuries that Stefan had sustained during their bumpy ride had long since healed over. He wasn't even sore, even if he probably should have been given everything they'd just been through.]

I'm all right. What about you?

Minho | The Maze Runner

[forerun]

[Another shucking Trial.

That's all Minho can think about as he unbuckles himself from his seat and drops down to his feet. Sirens bodies smoke blood warnings sparks green. He sees it, like a wound in the flesh of this world opening onto another. He takes a step closer and, as if on cue, the chaos cuts out and he's left in relatively stifling darkness and silence. Swearing, he closes his eyes, lets them adjust, and then looks around for... anything. He notices the backpack beneath his seat and grabs it before eyeing the pack beneath the seat of the corpse next to him. He'll be taking that, too, since it's not doing that sorry shank any good. No one else is hanging around to fight over supplies, either, and Minho hopes he isn't far behind everyone else.

Back to the green, so much green that he hesitates to step out into it. The Glade had been green, but not like this. He'd always thought that Glade was an oasis, but this makes it look like a stunted desert in comparison. It's beautiful, and unfamiliar, and probably deadly since WICKED is behind it. They have to be; they're behind everything. But it's better than the Scorch and, he hates to admit, seems better than anything they'd come up against since leaving the Maze.

He steps out and looks around him, unsure where to go or how he even got here. He hadn't recognized any of the bodies in the ship, but he hadn't had much of a chance to really look. Newt. Thomas. Did they survive? Was this another mind game? Glancing at his feet, he sees a long, thin piece of metal that must have come away from the ship. He grabs it and stuffs it down the side of one backpack for later, feeling better for having a makeshift weapon.]

This is jacked. I hate feeling like a damned Greenie.

[The worst part is being alone, something that hasn't happened in years. If he was more self-aware, he'd reflect on how co-dependent that was of him. But he's not, so instead he puts one pack on his back and holds the other in his hand as he starts jogging in the direction of that big dammed wall. This place is getting more and more familiar with every step.]

SCREECHES RIGHT ON INTO HERE

[shuckit]

[ thomas had seen the second shuttle come tumbling out of the clouds, lit up with heat from the scraping through the atmosphere on it's way down from the sky, and he'd ran for it. probably not the greatest idea, considering this forest is, you know, infested with not-cranks. walkers, according to Daryl. zombies, to some others here. they're not cranks, because there's nothing like people left in them, which thomas feels a guilty relief for. maybe because that means they aren't still trapped in there, fighting for sanity, but largely? because he doesn't have to touch down shame and sorrow when he knocks their heads in.

luckily, he doesn't run into any of them on the way, not that that'll make a difference when Newt berates him for dashing off like this, once he gets back. but the fact was it's a shuttle, like the one they came down in, and even if it doesn't have any people or any supplies or anything to salvage from it, maybe it'll have a clue. anything to answer the swarming questions and help solve the riddle of just what the hell is going on here. for that, he couldn't hold back from the want to figure it out as soon as possible. and probably lend a hand if that thing fell right into a herd of zombies.

the familiar poofy fluff of dark hair thomas spots as he clears the last line of trees and bushes, though, hadn't been what he'd expected, or, even, what he'd hoped. ] Minho? [ he'd been trying to convince himself that minho had to have made it into the safe haven with the others, if he didn't land with here with him and newt. that at least he could be safe, and done with all of this crap. no such luck.

but despite the crappy circumstances, that doesn't mean Thomas isn't damn happy to see his best friend. not like this is new to them, and he jogs right up, calling out before he shoves at the former keeper's shoulder in greeting. ]

Minho! Took your sweet shuck time getting down here. You okay?

HEY SHUCKFACE

[forerun]

[His hair is not poofy, it's pefectly coiffed thank you very much.

When Minho sees movement in the treeline he freezes, taking a defensive stance and reaching for the piece of metal that's serving him as a weapon. He'll have to sharpen it, if he can, but for now it will do a good job at bashing in heads. He has no idea if this place has Cranks, but he's willing to bet that it does and he sure as hell isn't going to let his guard down on a chance. But it's Thomas who breaks into the clearing, and Minho can't help but chuckle and shake his head.]

Couldn't have you running off into trouble without me. [Like he had a choice coming here. He shoves Thomas back, swinging his makeshift weapon back over his shoulder and into his pack.] Where the shuck are we? Not another Maze, I hope.

WHAT UP RUNTCHEEKS

[shuckit]

[ he's grinning so wide it's practically splitting his face, but there's just such an overwhelming relief to see his best friend here and safe. not strapped into to WICKED lab, or tossed back into the Scorch, or whatever else they would've done to them, if they hadn't made it through the Flat Trans. ]

Nah. Just a crank jungle. [ well, they aren't really cranks. ] Sort of.

[ it's a long story, and there's something he needs to know first. ] Hey, don't freak on me, but I gotta check something, okay? [ said with hands raised, pacifying, before he reaches for the back of Minho's shirt, tugging it down to look for the WICKED tattoo they'd all been branded with, before being sent out into the Scorch. And, yep, there it is. so this is his Minho, and thomas lets out a sigh of relief. ] Thank shuck.

[ that's the other long story. newt. not that he isn't more than happy to see him here, but... it's complicated. it's really complicated. ] What's the last thing you remember, before the dropship?

SLAMS JEN TO THE GROUND TO GET TO YOU hello my sweet wildcardin' you a bit

[limped]

[ When Tommy ran off with not even a brb, leaving Newt to watch, and unable to actually case after him. Newt was beyond pissed. He'd headed into the forest without anyone else and with no bugging explanation - of course Newt was smart enough to put two and two together to make the shuckiest four.

Nothing got done whilst Tommy was gone, Newt stood guard by the gate, working on crank control, killing the ones that showed up and helping the other move the bodies out of the way. His main attention is on the forest past the ruins. Anger wells up in him when he sees that familiar Glader break into view, and if it weren't for the second familiar Glader that was next to him, Newt might have headed over there to greet them... For some reason he couldn't bring his feet to move until they were in earshot.

The branch that he'd turned into a makeshift spear is in his hand as he headed towards them, the expression on his face unreadable for the moment until his hand surged forward, shoving Thomas back as his bad leg swiped at his legs, causing the runner to go down fairly easily. Without sparing Minho so much as a glance, he jabbed the butt of the spear into Thomas's abdomen, mindful to keep it away from where he knew would cause more pressure against the healing wound on his back. Anger. Anger was written all over his face as he spat out a scolding about leaving into the forest alone.

When he was done with Thomas dark eyes then found Minho again, softening almost immediately and looking at him with guilt. He'd thought it would be impossible to save him. Everything itched in him to hug him, or reach out and do something. A smile and a "good to see ya," was all he could come out with but the look he gave afterward was probably enough for Minho to know he had more to say later. Minho would hate him if he'd known that he hadn't a damn clue what to do when he'd been taken. If the roles had been switched, he was sure Minho would have known exactly what to do. He'd left then, not exactly giving him the warm welcome he'd prefer to - maybe when he was in a better mood. Spending most of a day stressing over Thomas and killing cranks kind of turns anyone foul.

Later comes faster than Newt had prepared for and he nearly jumps out of his skin when he bumps into Minho within the city, lost in thought. He's far too glad the shank isn't one of those ugly drooling things before it sinks in that he was really weird with him earlier. Swallowing, his eyebrows draw together in mild discomfort as he draws a hand up to chew at already blunted nails. ]

Settling in okay? This buggin' place gives me the creeps.

[ Bottling things up never hurt anyone, right.... Right? Hahahahaha. ]

two Thomases fighting over me [blush] not a problem!

[forerun]

[Running is familiar to the point of being soothing now, and Minho is feeling a lot calmer as they approach the city. Running away from danger with Thomas by his side is getting to be the only sense of normalcy he has anymore, and maybe that's why he'd hated the Scorch so much. They'd been apart for the majority of it, but he'd still had Newt and the others.

Newt. He can see him standing at the gate and waiting, tall and blond and skinny as anything. It's a familiar sight from all those days spent running the Maze only to return to the Glade and the watchful eye of his oldest friend. Something about the tension of his stance makes Minho slow down before Thomas, which is a good thing since his friend is suddenly receiving a beating. But Newt probably has a good reason, so Minho just stands back and watches while biting down laughter.

The soft smile is familiar, but something in Newt's eyes look sad and it makes him hesitate to go in for the hug that Newt fails to initiate. He's seen sadness in Newt's eyes before, no matter how hard he tries to hide it, and Minho doesn't always say something but he's aware it's there. He'd seen that look once and ignored it, probably when Newt needed to be seen and comforted more than ever. That's why, even when Newt retreats, Minho doesn't wait long before going to look for him.

The greeting is flat and sounds like something Newt might say to anyone. Minho isn't just anyone. He swats Newt's hand away from his mouth since it's a bad habit and he knows Newt is hiding behind it.]

What's wrong with you?

[Being a blunt asshole never hurt either, right?]

did you just plurk emote at me in the subject header that is so cute

[limped]

[ A frown finds his mouth to make up for the inability to bite at his nails, hand falling to his side. Ah, there's the blunt asshole he knows and adores on most occasions. Really, Newt's somewhat glad they're talking, he'd wanted to at least say something more to him, but Thomas lurking there made him clam up. Now that there are no children present, he guesses the adults can talk. The blond wets his lips while he tries to pick out the right words. ]

I thought I wasn't going to see you again. When we got separated. I didn't know what to do, I thought that was it.

[ He gave up. He'd already started mourning. They'd lost Nick, Alby, and then when Minho got taken, he'd just accepted he was gone. Resigned himself to it. Dark eyes stay on him despite looking like he wants to look anywhere but at Minho. It's like a trainwreck, he can't bear to watch to see if there's disappointment or judgement from Minho and yet, he keeps watching; he needs to watch.

But then something else seems to flash across his expression, and he opens his mouth before closing it again with an audible click of his teeth. The hand that had been swatted away to his side moved to rub at the back of his neck, under blond hair.

Whether or not Minho has one of those tattoos on his neck is something Newt both really wants to know and really doesn't at the same time. If he's the odd-man-out, what's wrong with him? If it's Thomas then what's wrong with Thomas? ]

You wouldn't have given up on me. [ Everything had just felt impossible. ]

Roan | The 100 (spoilers for 3x04 below)

[haihefa]

ACTION;

[ Prince (King now?) Roan of Azgeda woke to flashing lights and blaring alarms, foreign to all of it, having only glimpsed things like this when he skirted the edges of Skaikru camps, and that's where his mind goes - Arkadia and their ilk. Those still so angry with the Ice Nation for his mother's terrorism, and given the only one of them that knows him, and knows he isn't so thirsty for their death, is Clarke. And Clarke is not here.

Quickly as he can, the grounder launches from his belted seat, grabs his pack, and flees, regardless of others landed with him. It's some time later that he returns, moving through tree branches in silence, and he spents hours watching the camp, waiting for movement, for a scouting group to check their supplies, their prey, whatever he was meant to be. after none so, he salvages. wires to bind with, belting, a knife from a pack left behind, jagged shards of twisted metal. his swords are gone, but royalty in Azgeda is not pampered. If anything, he's been made to endure more of the harshness of the wilds, and spent plenty of his life in banishment learning how to make somethings out of nothings.

Some time later, Roan waits in the trees not far from the Skaikru city, watching the others mill around, observing. Learning. Listening, to the chatter in the earpiece he was left. He'll speak eventually, but not yet. Not now.

Instead, he hears the cracking of leaves and twigs beneath him, spotting one of those things - like Beserkers, but rotted. Disgusting. He'd killed several already, turned the corpses over and examined them, before leaving. The one below stalks in a gross hobble, after something else.

One of the city people.

He watches, for a long moment, doing nothing, until it gets close enough that a couple running steps and a lunge would see the stranger dead. Roan considers letting it happens. Thinks he ought to, rather than give himself up here. But he still finds himself jumping down, the tie from the tree slowing his fall and making it silent, so all that's heard is the wet thunk of the end of a spear being shoved through the back of the abomination's skull. Roan drags it to the ground with a jerk of the wooden end, boot pressed to the back of it's neck as he pulls his weapon free, bits of skull and brain matter sticking to it grossly. ]

You tell your people nothing of me, or you end up the same.

[ he hasn't glanced up at them yet, but the warning is given quickly and quietly, in case this one came out with a partner. ]


NETWORK PROMPT (AUDIO OBV);

Wanheda.

[ the voice comes gravely and deep over the comms, the kind of thing that sounds more growl than voice. there's a pause, and he breathes out, adding. ]

Clarke kom Skaikru. I speak to her and her alone.

[ He'd arrived here in a shuttle, strapped up in all it's metal while it's circuitry fried around him, and only one thing made sense with that - the sky people. the sky people who are hardly friendly with either Trikru or Azgeda. If Arkadia is the only resource for him to use right now, the only way he'll get to any answers is if Clarke vouches for him.

Here's hoping his recently willingness to help has won him some points. ]

Don't bother trying to find me without her. You won't.

[ Having to live among Trikru during his banishment has taught him some things about navigating trees. Don't expect to see him. ]

audio »

[withstandings]

[ Oh, that's a voice that Lexa recognises. ]

Ai laik Heda; yu na tel ai op, Roan kom Azgeda. Clarke is not here.

[ I am the Commander; you will talk to me, Roan of Ice Nation.

Does she sound bitter? A little... Okay, a lot. #LadyOfManyWords. But she's been searching for just about anyone, and this is who she finds? ]

italics is trigedasleng bc i'm too lazy to go look up translations

[haihefa]

Heda.

[ he hadn't been expecting that. not hearing her over Skaikru tech. maybe it means the alliance holds, and the coalition moves together. then why the hell was he dropped in a skaikru shuttle?

the rest is spoken in Trigedasleng, because he's paranoid. ]

Does Azgeda hold it's chair in the coalition, or did you make me King only to hold me prisoner again?

What of Wanheda?

same

[withstandings]

[ If she had the answer, she'd give it to him, but alas. ]

You are not my prisoner. I did not arrange any of this. If it is an attack, it is an attack on both of us. Do you stay true to the Coalition?

[ Aka bro u gonna betray me or??? ]

Wanheda is missing. This looks like Sky People technology but the few I've met have been just as confused as us.

audio

[romancekiller]

[clarke finds herself feeling a strange sense of deva ju after she regains consciousness to find herself on a dropship of all places but on the upside at least it wasn't mount weather again. she hears the voice from the radio she discovers soon enough but the fact it is directed at her leaves he a bit confused.

she frowns slightly because while the other person seems to know her, she is drawing a blank and can't seem to place the voice or even know who is speaking with her. she decides to be cautious but still keep neutral, feeling a bit unsure what the intentions are of the person she is speaking with] This is Clarke— who am I speaking with?

[haihefa]

[ oh good, she's here. at least he's not entirely on his own. relatively speaking. they were at least able to strike small bargains now and again. clarke was reasonable, at least, unlike man of her people. ]

Roan. Are those your people in the city? [ he's not sure if he's hoping for a yes or a no out of that... ] I woke up in one of your ship. Did more of you come dropping from the sky?

[romancekiller]

[clarke doesn't recognize the name either, but at the very least she knows she is talking to a grounder who most likely seems to have heard of her] No, my people aren't here— I only just arrived here but there's no one I recognize.