taxonomites | [Location]

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It's the second day of the heavier snow. Taxon citizens are still moving about their business-- trudging through the deepening snow-- and Taxonian children are out on the white streets, school canceled for the day. Many of Taxon's broader streets have been turned into impromptu sledding areas, or battlegrounds for snowball wars.

At least at first. As the day carries on-- and the snow continues to fall, soft and silent, even the most exuberant of children begin to drift inside for hot cocoa and the chance to warm up.

The late afternoon sky is gray with clouds that promise no respite anytime soon. Sunlight seems a vague memory, and the white flakes continue to drift down... and down... and down.

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"Hey everyone, this is starting to look like a serious freeze. I'm from a place that has cold and snow like this. Is there a house with a fireplace and doors and windows that seal well? It will be very important if this lasts for more than a day or so," Madelyne says. She's not exactly a leader type but she has lived through this sort of thing, at least.

"We don't all have to join up together but it would be... well... it would be good to know everyone is warm."

"Man, I moved to the West Coast to get away from all this. --and from my parents, but hey, semantics."

Jeremy has spent an appreciable chunk of his new month's allowance on a parka, so it's a bundled-up fuzzy face peering back on the tablet at Maddy.

"I dunno about a fireplace. I'm still bumming around in the Sanctuthingie."

The Cabals live in a very comfortable house near the water, far to the west in Speares, with a fireplace (gas, not wood-burning, which had taken some fiddling to operate) that's currently lit in another room. On-screen, only Horst Cabal's face can be seen, looking mildly concerned.

"I'm afraid our house wouldn't suit -- our area's mostly residential, and the grocers have all been picked over by now. And when the wind comes in off the water from time to time, it's vicious. They were clearing the streets out this way when the snow first picked up, but they gave up on the roads this far out fairly early on. The Sanctuary's at least centrally located? Stay toasty, the both of you."

"Toasty as a Pop-tart. 'm sure it can't get that bad," Jeremy says blithely to the dude he hasn't met yet.

It's all just a video game anyway, man.

Metody lives in a mother fu- a gosh darned cave. Her face is lit golden from the meager flame providing heat against the ambient temperature, which has already dropped more than she'd like. It might be time to retreat deeper.

"Hey, if food is an issue, I...uh...I have a good bit of meat. More than enough, unless someone is housing a lion in their pockets."

"Can you get it to a place where the rest of us can get to it easily?" Madelyne frowns a little bit, trying to think about what it is they can pull together and maybe where they can pull together.

"I don't know how safe anywhere will be in this place soon."

"I have a sledge. I'll just need to leave it outside once I reach the city." Because no one needs to learn the joys of untanned deer hide lashings and what a thaw smells like.

"The trains are still running, sort of, I think? Otherwise I can walk."

And walk...and walk....and walk...asleep inside a gigantic skull until a last minute changeover.

"Meat's good," Paul says, chiming into the conversation with his smiley (not really) face.

"I've got a lot of dried good in storage as it is, non-perishables, but it wouldn't hurt to have fresh protein if you're offering. I'm in the Birdhouse-- it's central, we have heating, it's pretty well sealed up.... basically, it's a safe-house for crap like this although I will admit that forty-below hadn't crossed my mind as a coming threat. I was planning more for the dinosaurs."

Paul shrugs and lights his cigarette. "Anyway, I've got plenty of room if anyone needs a warm place to stay. I can't promise five-star luxury, but we've got back-up gennies, insulated pipes, and lots of space heaters and food and medical supplies.

"You want someone to meet you and help bring in the meet, Metodyy?"

"I'll need a place to stay. And wash. Especially wash." There was a lot he'd tolerate, butt he drew the line at bathing in sewer water. "I s should be okay; I might have short of a pack mule, maybe, kind of. But if I need help, I'll call."

"Washing, we have," Paul answers with a nod. "Shower facilities, and our own insulated water tank."

(And he has the gall to think Metody's a survivalist!)

He says nothing to Metody saying he might have a pack mule, but takes a drag on his cigarette, squinting, briefly, then nodding and shrugging.

"Okay then. Stay warm on the way in."

"Would you mind if I came over as well? I'll bring everything I have in the pantry," Madelyne comments. She doesn't want to be on her own during this. Too much time alone in the cold is not a good idea for a number of reasons.

"Open to everyone. This is why I built the damn place: shelter in emergencies. But yeah, come on down, anything you can bring would be appreciated. --oh, and bring your pillows, I've got a ton of blankets and stuff but I forgot to stock nice squishy pillows."

Paul grins toothily. "We can have a sing-a-long."

"Good. I'll bring the pantry and whatever bedding seems most appropriate... and clothing and.. a number of other things I have around the house," she says somewhat to herself and somewhat to Paul.

"I don't have much of a singing voice but I'm sure we can figure out something. I should be there in an hour or so."

"Aces. See you when you get here. Snow's starting to cover the door so you can come by the roof if you want, probably easier for you anyway. I'll leave the door unlocked."

"I'll be there and the roof is probably a good idea," the redhead says with a small smile. "Thanks."

"Sure thing, chief," Paul says with a salute. He ends the call, then goes to get the door for Maddy.

Let it be known that Cain's timing sucks like an industrial vacuum machine. It sucks like...like...

No.

Just. No.

His head feels like he's volunteered it for anvil practice, he can't see a damn thing for all the stark white everywhere, and his footing is shot enough even without a bajillion cubic whatevers of snow.

He stumbles down the streets, half arm in arm, half leaning into his partner-in-really-epically-stupid-crime. Him and Glitch, both attempting to make their way home after a night of commiseration at the Black Friar(read: boozeaholic indulgence in honor of everyone who's gone (but especially Az)).

"Fuck this shit," he groans for the umpteenth time. "Fuck my life. Gods, this was such a shitty idea."

Part of him is trying to decide if he's having a stroke, or if he's slightly drunk still. Either way he agrees with his companion in spirit, but ther are issues with...tone.

"Have I ever mentioned my dislike for that language?"

Probably not the time to bring that up but there is a method in his madness: if Cain's mood is foul enough it'll provoke him into putting Glitch out of his misery. His cold, wet, someone's-unzipped-my-head-and-stuffed-several-radioactive-bees-inside misery.

There is no icon in the entirety of the internet to properly emote the sheer epic line-face-ing going on right now. Wyatt grunts, squinting through the watering of his eyes and the icing up of his eyelashes and against the much too bright winter's day.

"Oh, come off your high horses, Your Rigmarolean Lordship. Why'd you go along with this anyway? You're s'posed to be smart."

"I'm plenty smart, I was just acting in solidarity with my fellow...fellow. Mister responsible leader guy-- eauwgh!"

Oh hey they've reached a corner and now the wind's coming from a different direction. And stronger. Glitch hides his face against Cain's shoulder for a few moments, moaning in misery, then bravely looks up again to try and get his bearings.

"Oh gods, where even are we going?

He can barely hear a thing over the sudden gust of wind, but he gets the gist of it. "I don't know!" The idea had been to get Glitch home, for reasons of proximity or something that made sense at the time. Suddenly he wishes he'd brought his tablet, though fuck if he'd be able to use it with his fingers this stiff and aching from the cold.

"And fff--!" More wind, more snow getting in his eyes, and it's like the Northern Island segment of their quest all over again. "--for the record, I haven't been a responsible leader type for two annuals! I couldn't lead a calf from the slaughterhouse."

Oh no. That's the self-loathing bit gearing itself up. Someone stop it before it reaches epic proportions.

Diiiiid someone say self-loathing?

"Ha!" Mercifully part of his brain is working on a way out of their predicament. The rest is...busy bitching about everything. "Well I couldn't lead a-- notta one of 'em respect me, being here longest just means I'm the biggest lame-brain for not figuring it out yet. All of 'em with their smug judgey smugfaces and fancy multilingual hoity-toits..."

The wind's from the north, his house is to the south, so they need to go left acorss the street. Glitch attempts to drag Cain in that direction, thankful(?) to have the wind at their backs at least.

"At least you have provisional planny stuff. And actual provisions."

The street HAD been plowed at some point, but that just means there's a nice layer of icy slush under the new snow. We know where this is going.

This time of year, this winter-darkness-icy time of year, as all the veterans of Taxon will tell the newcomers, is never a good time of year.

Cain's first post-Annual's End* winter, they got hit by a zombie invasion. Last winter, it was ghostly sightings escalating into what you Othersiders might call a sci-fi/horror dreamscape, complete with an alternate reality and homicidal Extras wearing the faces of those you've left behind.

This year seems benign enough, which is why Wyatt isn't buying it for one godsbedamned second.

Mid-morning, he's packing a suitcase (for spare clothes including scarves and hats and thermal-under-whatsits), and a duffel bag full of perishables. Then he gives Paul a call, just as a heads up. "I don't trust this damn weather," is the first thing out of his mouth when Paul picks up. "It's only gonna get worse from here, I can feel it. I'm coming over."

And he's bringing his shotgun.

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[8th - hungover shenans]

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[9th - in which Cain says ffff this weather]