𝐓𝐇𝐄𝐘 𝐊𝐄𝐄𝐏 𝐆𝐄𝐓𝐓𝐈𝐍𝐆 𝐋𝐎𝐒𝐓 𝐈𝐍 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐌𝐀𝐙𝐄 ▣ AUGUST TDM

[saltburntmods]

AUGUST 2025 TDM: BALANCE

Welcome to SALTBURNT, a panfandom smut/thriller game based off the film Saltburn, where characters are encouraged to indulge their deepest desires. The money never runs out and the liquor never stops pouring, so you may as well indulge from the bounty. Of course, things are rarely what they seem, and the manor itself seems to have a consciousness of its own. Throw parties, trash the house, engage in youthful merriment, but remember — dangers come out at night, and no one, no matter how rich you are, is safe from demons lurking in the shadows.

Threads can be considered game canon, provided the players agree. Players can also start fresh upon acceptance into the game. In game characters can post to the TDM directly, using « NEW CHARACTER/IN GAME» in the header. There will be a spot below for new characters to link their toplevels for easy access. Alternatively, prompts on the Test Drive can be used for in game logs.

GOODBYE TO SALTBURNT

CONTENT WARNINGS: house fire.

The day starts much like any other — at least in the first few moments of consciousness, chased to morning light by the pounding of a hangover, the sweaty night terrors soaking your sheets, or the scent of breakfast on the rise through the house. Well, it seems someone must've burnt the bacon, now that your nose wakes you up, which is highly unusual for the skilled chefs here at Saltburnt. Flutter your eyes open and see a pillowy cloud of smoke filtering under your door, something that manages to finally alert you to the danger you're in. Out in the hallway, flames lick up the walls, smoke and ash burning your eyes. The next move is obvious: grab whatever you can carry and get out, as quick as you can. It seems that place you've called home for a day or a year is going up in flames.

Outside, flames engulf one wing of the huge manor, invaluable trinkets laid out on the lawn from the help, usually invisible, running in and out to grab what they can spare from the flames. Of course, people offer their helpful services — tending to burns and smoke inhalation, trying to put out the fire from whatever means they have, be it buckets of water stolen from the lake, or magical prowess from the population of guests. Regardless, the fire rages, and only manages to cease when about half of the house has been burnt down to structurally questionable bones, ashy remains, and the occasional falling cinder of burnt wood.

Before the mess, the Balfours stand in a range of different emotions — irritation from Bunny, paranoia from Rosie. The only one who manages to attempt to find a silver lining is Portia, whose plastic smile twitches around her watery eyes, hand cinched in an iron grip around Jonty's. There's a pleading look in her eyes for all of a moment before the patriarch of the family springs (more, dustily sways) into action, calling forth, "Giles!"

The man in question appears, soot-coated and harrowed, yet still immaculately well put together, bowing slightly at the waist. "Sir?"

"The —" he starts, somewhat unsure of himself, before solidifying his resolve. "The camping gear. In the shed."

A firm nod, manners impeccable. "At once, sir."

LIVING OFF THE LAND

CONTENT WARNINGS: nsfw themes.

By mid-morning, you'll find Portia Balfour has taken … liberties with the lawn decor. Aside from a brief intermission spent sobbing at the manor's scorched stonework, the lady of the manor does what she does best (in Portia's very modest opinion): she beautifies. Gone is the sad, sad state of all that empty sprawling green; what stands in its place is an encampment of tents stretching from the gardens to the forest boundary. And not your mother's backyard camping equipment, either — that would be so terribly basic and blase, darling. They're much more exciting than that. Fresh out of the imagination of someone who clearly consolidated ideas from flipping through a Martha Stewart Magazine and browsing Coachella's website, the bell tents (100% cotton, Portia is too happy to share with you) come in a lovely selection of colors. Beige, buff, biscuit, oatmeal, fawn. And Portia's personal favorites: the chartreuse, and a shade that closely resembles bile.

At your look of confusion, or distress, or perhaps distinct horror, Portia announces, with a stiff smile to rival a fresh dosage of Botox: "It's fine. It's fine! I wanted an excuse to finally redecorate, anyway. We'll just— we'll make a retreat out of it, my lovelies."

Well, where else are you going to go? Outside of each tent, Giles and his fellow staff have taken the time to generously assign you and your former suitemate to a shared tent, your names scribbled together in obnoxiously joyful cursive on a bright chalkboard. Just in case your amateur eyes can't distinguish between beige and oatmeal. Of course, mistakes are made. You can't possibly expect the housestaff to remember all of your names, or who you've shared space with before the "Little Setback", as Portia has taken to calling it. Some of you might find yourselves paired up with the wrong partner in the mix-up and reshuffling of housing arrangements, while others — without suitemates, or freshly arrived — find themselves shoved together by Giles' subpar matchmaking skills.

Whoever the two of you happen to be, you'll find that — while the interior is positively spacious — some concessions had to be made. Namely: there is, in fact, only one bed. Or, in your case, only one sleeping bag. Designed to lovingly cradle two bodies in disturbingly close proximity, your organic, artisan cashmere sleeping bag comes with only a narrowed zipper for entry and one built-in memory foam pillow, so you can meditate by listening to your partner's breathing at all times. Portia's private DJ turned ex-fling turned self-proclaimed intimacy coach, Ezio, insists it helps you and your partner connect to the same emotional frequency for maximum bonding. Whatever that means.

Luckily, not all of your belongings were unsalvageable. Giles has painstakingly begun the process of transferring supplies into your tent, from changes of clothes to personal effects to underwear you're 70% sure belong to another resident. Among them, you'll find both a camp counselor uniform that looks like it was pulled off the rack from an adult novelty shop, and a pair of athletic short-shorts and white tank tops for your scheduled summertime activities.

The generosity doesn't end there — with Ezio's advice, Portia has arranged a gift bag for each tent, meant to strengthen ties amongst the House's residents. What better time to connect than in the wake of such a tragedy? Inside, guests will find: a guided erotic meditation track, mood-boosting meditative candles in scents such as Nag Champa and Afternoon Scrapbooking, a set of silk ribbons with slogans reading Surrender and Trust, heated massage oils marked for tension release, an ergonomically-shaped crystal pleasure wand sculpted from Rose Quartz meant for "grounding and release", silicone bands for your, ahem, instrument to help harness your "root chakra", and a guided positions manual for Kama Sutra with Portia's favorites meticulously circled. Happy healing!

No summer camp trip would be complete without activities. Ezio, allergic to wearing anything that isn't a breathable speedo, leads a series of trust-building exercises. A blindfolded obstacle course, set up with chairs hauled down from the attic as well as pool noodles and cardboard boxes, requires one partner to lead the other successfully to the end. Ezio's twist? You can only direct your partner through sincere, heartfelt compliments in the vein of, "you look so pretty when you're confused." If you lose patience and swear, you're forced to mandatorily hug each other — medically effective to reduce your blood pressure! For the detail-oriented, there's the Human Scavenger Hunt. Sitting in meditative circles, you're given a list of clues to find on your partner's body, ranging from locating the part of their skin that's softest to finding their ticklish points. That birthmark on your buttcheek will come to light. For the more athletically inclined, there's the honeyspoon race — with your mouth as the spoon. It's your job to transfer as much honey as you can into your partner's mouth without spilling. Or perhaps you'd prefer less mouth-to-mouth contact in the piggyback race, or a vanilla and traditional game of Tug of War, or even Bunny Balfour's strange rendition of Jason at Camp Crystal Lake. Those of you who can't outrun the killer get helped to a nice dousing of red food coloring you can cleanse off in the communal showers positioned at the treeline, with nothing blocking the rest of the camp's view of your natural assets.

Mealtimes are rigidly run as scheduled by Giles' demand, though the Balfours' menu is rather limited to simpler cuisine this month. Toad in a Hole, Angels on Horseback, Bubbles and Squeak, and what looks to be a charming attempt at S'mores served on digestive biscuits — all dutifully charred over a campfire and served with a variety of fine vintages spared from the worst of the flames. And if you come underdressed for the occasion? "We dress for dinner," Portia remarks from her place at the head of a honey-oaked picnic bench, overlage sunglasses shielding her eyes. You get the impression she's looking down her nose at your choice of wardrobe, anyway. "Black tie. No exceptions."

Eat up, gather your energy; you'll need it for what comes next.

TEAMWORK MAKES THE DREAM WORK

CONTENT WARNINGS: emeto, slight body horror, potential character death, fuck or die.

While you were all asleep in your spacious tents and unspacious sleeping bags, the maze has shifted form, spreading its sections along the entire grounds of the house. You wake from what should be the end of your glamping spree already lost in a part of the sprawling labyrinth, maybe with your tent-mate, or the person you spent the night with, or someone completely new. You’re only sure of one thing — it seems like you’ve suddenly developed a pesky case of allergies. It starts with an uncomfortable pins and needles sensation that crawls over your entire body as you start to move. Sweat dampens your clothes despite the towering blossoms offering a rather pleasant shade from the sun, and soon your teeth are chattering with chills. So maybe you’ve caught a summer cold, or some of you might be spreading mono from having a pair of too-loose lips. In any case, it’s probably nothing you haven’t dealt with before, and it won’t stop you from finding your way out of the maze.

The natural thought would be to utilize your own skillset to escape, but you quickly realize that using any magical abilities yields no results upon the thick foliage — or at least you think there’s no effect. If you try to use fire to burn down a part of the maze, not only does it not work for you, but now, in a part of the maze opposite to you, there are burning flames that other house guests will have to get past. Being big and bad, in this case, means you’re probably just an asshole now. As you stumble through the maze, you encounter more and more magical obstacles that you might begin to recognize as coming from your own friends. Looks like everyone’s desperate to get out, and you’re only making things worse. (If your character tries to use their magic, please submit it here, so others can play with it!)

Speaking of worse, those allergies are swiftly advancing into a full blown infection from — you guessed it — the foliage of the maze itself. The constant reproducing and shifting is caused by THE BOGWOOD BLIGHT, evident by the dark lesions spotting the plant stems, and white, fuzzy spores clinging to the undersides of the leaves. Your symptoms progress into searing pain as flowers, branches, and thorns begin to grow inside of you, your vomit coming up bloody and thick with masses of dead leaves. Young vines and tiny flowers seem to spool out from your own hair, curling around your throat if you don’t keep up with tearing them out. Hallucinations plague your mind, sharp desire both violent and sexual permeating your senses and threatening to push all other reasonable thoughts out.

It would be easy to succumb to this sickness, to let your base instincts fight or fuck one another until you’re all hopelessly lost and doomed to a certain death in the labyrinth. But there is a way out, for those who can hold on to their sanity and bear through the pain: participate in the trials, and earn your freedom.

These trials? Nothing like the fun and games of a night camping beneath the stars. The verdant landscape of the neatly trimmed maze has become flush with deadly obstacles, and it’s up to you to get past them all. Naturally, your first instinct is to grab your trusty iPhone and reach out to your closest and most trusted companions — but everything you send reaches the recipient in a way that utterly twists your intentions. A simple are you okay? turns into I’m glad to finally be rid of you. Trying to reunite with a loved one throws you for another loop when you finally do find them — three loops, in fact, because you encounter three identical copies of your love, all trying to convince you they’re the real one. In order to reveal the truth and continue your journey along the maze, drive a thorn into one of their hearts. Hope you know your lovers well. Maybe a little physical touch will help?

The maze might break into a small clearing for you, a wide open space with checkerboarded grass filling from one edge of the field to the other — two different tones of the same haunted green pervasive through the labyrinth. Certain spaces are occupied by expertly crafted hedges to resemble all the familiar pieces to a chess board, while the Kings are left empty, awaiting you and an opponent. Take your positions, or wait for a stranger to stumble upon you, if you were unlucky enough to face the maze by yourself, and play the game according to all ordinary rules of chess. Following a checkmate, you have the option of how you’ll claim dominion over the opposite side, or how they’ll claim it over you — a slap or a kiss will suffice, to earn your win. Strangely, physical touch seems to relieve the worst of your allergies. These things do have a way of escalating, don’t they? Best to keep your wits about you.

For those of you prone to clumsiness, you’re probably doomed already, but the viper pits are an easy trap for even the most seasoned of the bunch. Take one step, and the ground gives way beneath your feet, plunging you into a dark, flinty hole in the earth. The injuries you might have sustained on the way down are the least of your worries. Inside the pervasive darkness of the pit, it’s time to face your vipers — that is, your worst fears seem to press in on you, terror blooming in your very bones until your own nauseating dread is all you can feel. Maybe it's actual vipers, or rough waters pulling you down, or a thousand razors cutting your skin — the mystery of the dark is that anything can be inside it, waiting. Maybe you’ll be lucky enough to have a friend risk it all to help you out, but you can always just save yourself, clawing to the top while your greatest fears weigh you down.

If you manage to avoid the pits, they’re not the only deadly thing on the ground. Step close enough to smell the honeysuckle and you’ll feel a sharp clamp around your ankle. Vines, slithering out from the foliage, wrap themselves around your body in near shibari style — and these vines like to fondle and grope, ramping up the sexual side of your infection symptoms. The only way to get free? Turn to someone else struggling in the vine trap and get frisky — or let the vines turn from pleasure to true pain as they slowly squeeze the life out of you. Orgasm or die. It's a pretty easy choice, isn't it?

Just when you think it’s the dehydration of too many long days and nights scrambling through the maze that will kill you, you’re lucky enough to happen upon a water source — one of the many beautiful fountains, shimmering ponds, or rustic bird baths dotting the path of the maze. Whichever it is, you’re parched enough to drink deep despite the possibility of bird shit floating around. As you crouch over the water, your reflection stares back at you — only it’s either your most perfect self that you wish you could be, or the worst version of you that you fear you’ve already become. Once you catch your reflection’s eye, you’re caught, unable to stop yourself from being pulled into the water’s depths. The bird bath overflows, the pond turns dark and bottomless, and the gilded fountain statues laugh at your plight as you struggle to keep yourself from drowning. Time to face those ugly truths about yourself — fast.

After your harrowing ordeals, you reach what can only be the end — a narrow pathway lined with thorn-filled hedges, too thick and solid to pry through. The only way forward is onto the path. Luckily, a piece of bright hope shimmers before you — a single strand of golden thread, hopefully leading you out into the world once more. You step onto the path, following the glimmering thread, and it seems like all is well until the moment someone enters the path behind you. The hedges rush toward you, brutally narrowing the space as thorns dig into your flesh and rip fresh wounds across your body. Looks like only one of you can complete this painfully claustrophobic trial at a time, and the other has to watch your slow and bloody suffering, waiting for the moment the walls part and you can rejoin your love without consequence. Better hurry to get there. They’re going to need some patching up once they’re done.

As you escape the stifling thorns, finally emerging on the other side and collapsing with relief to be free and hopefully to get some help for your worsening illness, you realize with a sick drop of your stomach that you haven’t made it out after all. The golden thread has led you into the heart of the maze, where you know the Balfour’s beloved Minotaur statue should be… only it’s nowhere to be found. Instead, there are two statues towering over your pathetic form: Medusa cast in gold, and Midas carved in stone.

MATERIAL GIRLS

CONTENT WARNINGS: potential character death, loss of limbs.

It's been a long, harrowing journey, but you're here now, likely with some friendships or trauma-bonds made along the way, which is what summer camp is all about. Each of the statues before you is decorated with a marble slab at the base, detailing EYE TO EYE below Medusa and HAND IN HAND below Midas. Curiosity eventually wins out against wariness — or maybe the charms of the maze have worn thin on you through the days, frustration guiding your motion. Whatever the case, you weigh your options and choose accordingly between the two, stepping forward and sealing your fate.

EYE TO EYE — Look to Medusa for a few seconds, and a door will appear beside her, granting you free exit from the maze. However, for the following days, you begin to change. It starts at your fingertips, gradually spreading from arm to shoulder to neck, and so on, transmuting your body from flesh and blood to cold, icy stone. Those affected start to lean into their darker side, turning from the hero to the villain, the kind to the cruel. To stop your gravelly fate, amends must be made — forgive someone who wronged you, love someone you hate, clear up a misunderstanding you've let fester inside, make up for some injustice you've committed in your life. Give them the knife and let them start cutting. Beg for penance, and whether or not you receive it is beside the point — the begging is enough to redeem you in Medusa's eye.

HAND IN HAND — Alternatively, hold the hand Midas extends for a few seconds, and a door will appear beside him, granting you free exit from the maze. However, for the following days, you too start to change, following the same pattern of those more Medusa inclined — but gilt instead of stony, turning gold from the outside in. Those affected lean further into their brighter, more pleasant sides, cheer replacing sorrow, your mood uplifted to a potentially overbearing degree. To stop your gilded fate, sacrifices must be made — reveal a deep rooted secret, let go of something you're insecure about, give away something of important value to you. Material good are nice, yes, but do you know what Midas would like even more? Limbs, eyes, flesh, blood, something you're really going to miss.

Regardless of your choice, you're out of the maze, congrats! Act swiftly and all will be fine. Dither and, well — you'll make a beautiful, statue-corpse eventually, and the maze would be happy to have you. Of course, even a successful solution will take time to settle in. Your stony, golden limbs revert as slowly as they crawled up on you, any severed body parts taking days to reform but eventually coming back as good as new, with a small memorializing token — a hand or an eye shaped birthmark to remember what you've lost.

Out of the maze, you can see the work being done on the house, renovations well underway while you were busy messing around. It was so kind of you to give the Balfours the chance to start working on the house — and while it's unlivable for the next while, there are always the tents to keep you warm.

DIRECTORY

taken
activity check
setting

reserves
rewards
rules

applications
hiatus & drop
faq

Comments

lottie matthews | yellowjackets | returning player, new character

[bloodspill]

GOODBYE TO SALTBURNT

( The smell of smoke is something familiar, a campfire perhaps being prepared for the day's cooking, or someone boiling water for a bath. Nothing unusual about it until the smell becomes all the more pungent, the air suddenly full of thick, acrid smoke. Lottie wakes up in an instant, the panic immediate as she scans the room quickly. This didn't look like the camp, a hotel? No matter, the only important thing in this vision is the heat of flames that can be felt enough to warm skin, and Lottie pulls herself out of bed, confusion and concern overwhelming in equal measures.)

I don't remember this.... (Whilst most would run outside to avoid the flames, Lottie only walks as if drifting through a dream, clad in nothing but a long white nightgown and feet bare. All the previous visions had been with nature, green and verdant, each with its own message to convey. This one is strange, foreign and Lottie idly wonders about it as she finds her way out, finally reaching the lawn outside with nothing but a stunned expression across a soot-streaked face.)

Did we do this? A message...?

LIVING OFF THE LAND

( Eventually Lottie gravitates towards the campsite that has been set up by the Balfours. She's still shocked at the change in scenery, almost mesmerised by how green yet new it all looks. Gone is the rugged, harsh reality of the forests, suddenly replaced by fresh cut lawns and sparkling new white tents.

Despite the offer of shorts and tank top, Lottie silently declines, remaining in her dirt stained nightgown and bare feet for now. She's still not sure if this place is real or a drawn out vision, something with a tale to tell that she's yet to grasp. The latter makes more sense; being in one place then suddenly another couldn't happen no matter what people said.

A tent has been assigned and Lottie slowly wanders over towards it, uncaring about whatever name has been paired with hers as she clutches the folded clothes gifted to her chest. Peering into the tent the sense of unrealness doubles, triples as she notes how luxurious it all is. A test, of sorts? She backs out, shaking her head. No, she can't fall for this so easily.)

I'll sleep outside.

TEAMWORK,DREAMWORK

cw: body horror, drug mention

( Waking up to a maze only serves to further Lottie's ideas on what this place is, opting to trust her own senses over what others may be saying. The things she's heard just can't work in the real world, and coming from a place where eating shrooms happened, thinking alternatively is all the easier.

The longer Lottie walks, the more the allergies kick in, the teenager only slowing once the coughs begin. Each round of coughing brings up petals after petals, blood-red in colour and decorated with occasional leaves. Whatever the place is meant to be, the wilderness still follows and Lottie lets the petals flutter to the ground, either unaware or uncaring of the vines that twine through strands of her hair. Her chest hurts, constricted by whatever grows inside. The white nightgown is the mvp of it all, Lottie still wearing it no matter how dirty it gets, only lending to a ghostly look as she walks through the maze.

Before long she comes across the squares, the hedges studied quietly as Lottie reaches out to touch them with a quiet smile.)

Is this a chess set? We should play, it wants us to. (Why hadn't they thought of this?)

MATERIAL GIRLS (EYE)

cw: body horror

( The Medusa statue had been studied with an almost lazy kind of interest, Lottie knowing the figure from classes held what feels like so long ago. The statue here is beautiful, almost out of place in the wilderness and accepted with a dreamlike grace as with everything else.

There's no idea that the area likes its games, that most things come with a price, and it's only a day later as Lottie walks across the camp that she understands. Another test. There had been a slow realisation that none of this is a vision but some strange reality, and as she walks across the lawn headed for a destination not yet clear in her mind, she's only just aware of her zombielike shuffling gait. One leg is stone up to her thigh and she clasps a solid arm to her side. The ask is clear in her mind, and Lottie refuses instinctively, opting to look for a way out of this blasphemous place. )

I won't beg. I can't.

WILDCARD

( Open to anything. Lottie is 19 years old and still convinced the entire place is one messed up, drawn out vision. Feel free to try and convince her otherwise. Any questions please PM this journal.)

goodbye to saltburnt (cw: death, cannibalism mention, let me know if this doesn’t work!)

[katharma]

[ jackie dreams of fire often since being shown what had happened to her body - being held over it and cooked, screaming as her teammates tear into her flesh and shove it greedily into their starving mouths. over time, she’s come to accept it, as much as anyone would be able to. they’re still alive because she’d helped feed them. she’d finally managed to do something right.

when she jerks awake, she thinks she’s dreaming again. only there’s not the scent of cooking meat in the air, just smoke, thick and choking as she tries not to panic. she stumbles out of bed, trying to stay low, and notices movement and dark hair through the haze. she scrambles over, nearly tripping over her own feet, thinking shauna, even though she knows that doesn’t make sense, because shauna had retreated after jackie had seen. but no one else they know with dark hair has been here, not since - ]

Lottie?

[ lottie had been here too, once. but it’s been months since she’d disappeared. it feels impossible that she’d been brought back, she thought maybe she’d found a way out, but - ]

Come on, we’ve gotta get out of here.

[ - they can figure it out later. ]

cw: cannibalism, death, s1/2 spoilers. it's perfect thank you!

[bloodspill]

( A voice Lottie had never expected to hear again reaches her ears, and she turns slowly. Jackie Taylor, beautiful, determined and completely impossible. The argument between Shauna and Jackie had been nothing too unusual to begin with — tempers had sometimes flared in the confines of the cabin. But that time had been particularly ferocious, and the outcome harsher still for Jackie, banished to sleep outdoors in the cold that unknowingly threatened to be colder still.

One of the first to be chosen by the Wilderness stands before her, and Lottie can't help but gently smile, reaching out to try and take a hand in hers. There's no rush to leave, the sight of Jackie and smoke inhalation enough to blur the edges between dream and reality. Besides, the other girl couldn't possibly be stood there in reality, she had given herself to the team so that they could live on. A gift that none of them could ever deny. )

Jackie. What do you mean? Shouldn't you stay here? ( Lottie would say more, instead pausing only to cough and frown slightly, eyes starting to sting against the haze of smoke and ash around them. Why did this feel almost real? )

[katharma]

[ jackie’s expression twists into one of confusion at lottie’s words, not for the first time - does she not remember? does she not know? - but she shakes her head, reaching forward and taking Lottie's hand in hers - solid and warm, made of flesh and bone and blood.

she doesn’t know how either, but they don’t have the time to explain that the dead can appear here, that she isn’t the only one. they need to get out before both of them suffocate and burn. ]

Neither of us should. It’s a long story, I can explain when we’re outside, but we need to go.

[bloodspill]

( Neither of them should? That's enough to pique Lottie's interest beyond the norm and she tilts her head, brows drawing together as she tries to figure it out. If neither of them should be there, did that mean they were both dead? The last thing Lottie remembered didn't correlate with dying, but then what did she know? If the choice had been made then so be it. Such is the way of things.

Jackie's hand is warm in her own, firm, and feeling very much alive. Had the world not been burning down around them, Lottie would have taken the moment to feel the other girl's pulse, revelling in yet another gift inexplicably presented. As it stands, the mansion burning down doesn't afford such a luxury, and instead she nods as she tightens her grip. If Jackie is here then the message is strong; follow and find a way out. She's not one to kick a gift guide. )

I hope to hear it. ( Lottie ducks her head, squinting against the smoke which grows stronger still. ) Which way is out? You know the way?

[katharma]

[ in truth, jackie's not sure how to explain why she's here. she only knows how to explain that she's here, alive in spite of her memories of freezing and now her memories (shared with shauna) of being devoured. the only thing she could recall prior to that was the dream of being brought inside by shauna, of laura lee's sweet smile as she reassured her, making her realize her time was over. or it should have been.

lottie's grip tightens around her hand and she squeezes it, nodding. ]

This place is big and the rooms change around, but the way out is pretty consistent. Don't let go, okay?

[bloodspill]

( The squeeze at her hand conveys the sense of urgency she should have been feeling to begin with. Whatever is happening, there are few things that Lottie knows she can confirm; the rising temperature of something nearby burning, the smell of smoke that pulls another cough from her, and the fact that Jackie is solid, and not a ghost in any way.

Lottie nods and sets her jaw, determined not to be taken out by yet another house fire. She'll give it her all for Jackie's sake, though should the worst ultimately happen it would be met with acceptance. Chosen.

Wait, what? )

They change around? Never mind, let's go. ( And without even waiting Lottie begins to tug Jackie towards the door, raising her free arm to cover her mouth and nose as she squints down the hallway. )

[katharma]

[ fortunately, lottie doesn't argue or demand any further explanation. she nods, following lottie out the door after fixing her shirt over her mouth and nose, ducking to avoid the rising smoke. ]

Let me in front, I know the way. [ still holding onto lottie's hand, she makes her way in front of her, watching for any flames or falling debris as she guides them to the stairwell, pausing at the edge of it as she looks it over. it looks solid, so she turns to lottie again and nods. ]

Okay. The door's not far once we get down the stairs, and then we'll be outside. [ it still feels strange that she doesn't remember - shouldn't she? ] I think we'll need to move fast. Are you ready?

living off the land >:)

[temujackie]

[ The tents are very nice, but once Melissa has moved her stuff in, what little she's managed to save, she doesn't see a need to hang out inside. It's a nice day, and even with the manor off-limits after the fire there's a lot of places left to be. She's just making her way through the makeshift tent encampment when she spots Lottie—

though at first she's not sure it is Lottie. She's just struck by the brief flash of a girl dark-haired and taller than she is. On a second, closer look, though... yeah, that's definitely Lottie. The nightgown, still dirty, clinches it. ]

Holy shit, Lottie? When did you get here? [ Melissa is jogging over, though she stops before quite reaching her, a little wary. Lottie was here before, she knows, but she'd disappeared so soon after Melissa's arrival that they hadn't talked. She isn't scared of Lottie, but it's not like they've ever had a ton to say to each other, either.

Belatedly, ] Are you okay...?

\o/

[bloodspill]

( Are you okay? It isn't a question often posed out in the wilderness. During their time everyone had grown into their own strengths and abilities, and there had been little room to check in often in such a way. That or, ultimately, they had simply stopped asking Lottie, the teenager one of the few who had seemingly thrived in the harsh environment.

Is she okay? Lottie pauses to consider it. All things considered she felt fine, if not a little dazed from the events of the fire. Telling herself the entire ordeal had been nothing but a vision is starting to wear off as the emotions and sensations of reality threaten. Is she okay? Who knew?)

I think so. (An honest answer if anything, as Lottie looks over to the one asking, blinking when she recognises the other girl. Shauna's partner. )

Melissa. ( Not even a question, and Lottie at least seems relieved to see a familiar face. ) Just now, I think. I woke up to the fire. Did you?

[temujackie]

No, um, I've been here for a few months now?

[ About a month ago she woke up with new memories, though, which was disorienting as fuck. So a big part of Melissa is sympathetic to Lottie here. It would have been about a million times worse if she'd woken up confused and with the house on fire. It's kind of a miracle Lottie wasn't hurt. (What It wants, they might have said, if this was last winter. She pushes the thought from her mind.) ]

Do you... remember being here before? [ Melissa asks it almost gently. There really is no protocol for this. ]

[bloodspill]

Months? But I just saw you. You were....

( Lottie pauses, stopping short and giving a small, wan smile. Did it even matter? Things happened and then they didn't, all planned out by the Wilderness for reasons they couldn't always comprehend. This is obviously one of those times and Lottie clutches the clothing a little tighter as she mulls the question over.

She didn't remember this place, would know if they had left their home and turned up somewhere new. Even for visions the scenery and surroundings are extremely coherent, detailed as Lottie slowly looks around to try and take it all in. )

No, I don't even know where "here" is.

[temujackie]

[ Melissa offers an anxious smile in return. Where "here" is is something that she's not 100% sure of herself. In England, apparently? But of course this place isn't like anywhere else on earth. ]

I know it's weird. [ Especially weird now, since the fire. ] I thought I was dreaming at first. [ The thought that this all might be one extremely vivid dream is one that still occurs to her sometimes, although less often now. Still. ]

Do you... want to go back to my tent? You could get changed there.

[bloodspill]

Yeah, that'd be great.

( Lottie accepts easily enough, moving towards the tent without argument. It would be good to get out of her soot-stained clothes and into whatever has been provided; the shorts and vest may not be the most convenient, but just by holding them Lottie knows it's fresh laundry. Clean. Scented. A luxury somewhat missed in the early days.

As Lottie sets foot inside the tent and begins to change clothes, she starts on more questions, not at all concerned at getting dressed in front of someone else. Melissa is one of them, the survivors, family, and being coy only got people in trouble in the end. )

So I only just saw you, but you haven't seen me for some time. Except a time I was here that I don't remember. ( A moment of silence as Lottie thinks that through. ) That normal for here? You don't sound worried.

( Lottie pauses again, looking down at her new outfit of short shorts and white tank top. Nostalgic in a way, almost like a gym uniform from a forgotten age. )

[temujackie]

That... pretty much sums it up, yeah.

[ Melissa's made herself comfortable in the tent while Lottie gets changed. It's wild that these things are big enough for seating, but they only gave out one sleeping bag. ]

The last thing I remember from [ wow, okay, she almost says "home" and has to pause while she course corrects ] the Wilderness is, um, the second winter. But I've also been here for three months now. Some of the others too.

[ It's definitely different here than it was back there. Natalie and Travis keep to themselves a lot. Melissa, Shauna, and Jackie had all been sharing a room, but then Shauna had moved out and Melissa has only seen her from a distance since. It's not like they're all on top of each other the way they'd been back in the village, and they feel like a lot less of a cohesive unit, and she doesn't know if Lottie will like that. Actually, she's pretty sure she knows Lottie won't. ]

It's really different here.

goodbye to saltburnt

[angelfires]

[ Laura Lee doesn't understand the fire, either. The smoke smells different. Cross clutched to her chest, she shut her eyes to the scent of wires burning, old leather going up in flames. The smell had a copper tang to it, like blood. It was earthy, too; decades of dust turning into ash. She hadn't really noticed any of that and isn't really noticing it now. She just knows.

As she stumbles through the corridors, Leonard dangling from her fist, she doesn't know if she's searching for a way out or just trying to find her way back to the fire she chose. Then she spots people. Panicked silhouettes she can't recognize through watery eyes. Laura Lee chases after them, cries out, but no one can hear her over the roar of the blaze.

Breaking onto the lawn, she can finally see that they're all strangers. So many strangers. Any of them could help her; she doesn't know where to start. Until... ]

Lottie! [ Laura Lee runs to her faster than she ran away from the fire. She understands even less than she did within those burning walls, but she's happy to see a friend. She thought she might never see any of them ever again. Overwhelmed, Laura Lee drops Leonard at their feet to throw her arms around Lottie. He'll understand. ]

i love that username

[bloodspill]

( Lottie watches the flames as they begin to take further hold on the mansion, wondering if this had been retaliation for actions she'd been no part of. Everyone around her on the lawn looked equally taken aback by the whole ordeal and despite everything being extraordinary, nothing truly stood out.

A familiar voice reaches her ears, gently pulling Lottie from her trance as she turns to stare at the approaching figure. Laura Lee, a beacon of hope once again surrounded by a fiery blaze. Though thankfully this time it's only a reflection from the burning down mansion and not from an explosion....Even if the event hadn't ended the way anyone went, it didn't dampen the esteem Lottie held her friend in.

Whatever terrible thing currently going on is forgotten as Lottie smiles, returning the hug tightly. Warm, solid, real. How long had it been since they'd waved Laura away on her voyage? )

You're here too?

ty!

[angelfires]

[ Seeing Lottie is the first time she's felt like this place could really be it. Heaven. But her heart gets caught in the tangle of her ribs before it can leap. Lottie shouldn't be here yet. Even if (even though) Laura Lee failed, someone had to come, right? Someone had to find them.

Letting go, she stays close — after quickly bending to grab up her bear, of course. ]

Yeah. I just woke up, and... [ Everything was on fire. Laura Lee swipes a strand of hair back from her face, loosely entwined with some of Lottie's. It breaks free as she looks around, to her left, her right, very purposefully not behind her at the blaze. ] Who are all these people?

material girls

[mygoodsir]

[She's most likely not talking to him, but Harry is nearby watching birds and he looks over at her voice. He notes the arm, the unnatural gait.

Softly, kindly, he speaks to her.]

Why not?

[bloodspill]

( Lottie pauses, staring over at Harry with a slightly curious look. The idea that there are others around that aren't part of her group, and are happy to talk with them hasn't quite sunk in yet. )

Why not?

( She repeats the question back. How easy would it be to beg the ailment away and be done with it. But where would such a slippery slope end? She gives a shake of her head, jaw set with determination. )

Why should I have to beg?

[mygoodsir]

Oh, you shouldn't have to.

[He turns to face her properly. He is slight and short, his voice gentle and made further so by his accent.]

There are all manner of things that a person shouldn't be forced into, and in an ideal world perhaps we'd not be made to bend our principles.

You know what will happen if you do not, correct? You'll die. And in a manner that I am not sure is reversible in this place.

[He looks her in the eye, brows raised.]

It isn't fair. But would you rather die than say you're sorry for something?

[bloodspill]

( Lottie can't deny the points that are being made, listening carefully to each one as if her limbs weren't slowly turning to stone. No, no-one should be forced to make amends or apologise for things, but the thought of dying to something other than the wilderness sticks in her throat.

The guy with the polite accent obviously knows the place with the things he mentions, and Lottie narrows her eyes. )

Death is reversible here? ( Well, that's something she supposes, though it's enough to have her wondering. Had this been back home she would have listened before accepting fate, knowing that she'd been chosen for whatever purpose laid out before her. Here? Here it seems all bets are off and her lips thin as Lottie thinks about it. )

If we have nothing to be sorry for? We've done nothing wrong. ( This time, Lottie mentally adds, though even as she thinks about it she knows it's not quite the truth. Even though her actions aren't considered wrong to her, others wouldn't see it in the same way and it's evident in her expression that something has come to mind. )

[mygoodsir]

Yes. But deeply unpleasant, it seems.

I sincerely doubt a young lady such as yourself has done anything terribly wrong without extreme circumstances being the cause.

[Lottie is young, and she sounds much like Melissa and Shauna to his ears. A pack of these poor girls has already arrived, so he wouldn't be surprised to find one more. If that's the case, it makes him feel even more sympathetic to her.]

Believe me, I do understand. Desperate times do not often leave us with much dignity. Or choice.

I think... we've all done things that are not what we'd do under normal circumstances. I certainly have.

[bloodspill]

( How many natural orders did reversing death break? Lottie isn't sure she wants to consider it.

Harry is on the money comparing Lottie to the other girls, and she mulls over what he says, idly rubbing her arm where her skin has turned to stone already. If this place is different from home, then she cannot claim to be chosen, so giving up easily and embracing death isn't on the cards. She needs to survive, to find the others and listen for their next steps. )

Sometimes the desperate times bring out the most dignity, and equality. ( But okay, fine she'll bite. ) You have? Like what?

cw: suicide

[mygoodsir]

[That response makes him smile.]

Yes. You're quite right. Sometimes they do.

[This feels a bit like trying to befriend a feral cat. Still smiling softly, he rolls up one sleeve to display a jagged scar running up the inside of his arm.]

I spent years lost in the Arctic. It's not a very happy story, I'm afraid. This marks the end of it, at least for myself. Not something I'd have picked if I'd remained in England.