monstertruckers (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
monstertruckers) wrote in ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png)
memestertrucks2025-01-01 12:01 am
monstertruckers) wrote in memestertrucks2025-01-01 12:01 am
Entry tags:
JANUARY TDM
After tumbling through shadow you find yourself in a shrouded, ruined garage. It’s full of shattered windows and broken mechanical equipment; watch out for shards on the floor, in between the strange symbols scrawled into the ground. Outside the daylight is fading; night is rolling in, and there’s just a few dying lights flickering on and off. It’s going to be hard to see in here and avoid bumping into things and people, if you don’t get outside soon.
Beyond the rundown garage is an overgrown gas station surrounded by thick, wetland forest. Starlight is streaming through the trees, along with light from a broken moon. The one thing that isn’t overgrown with plants is a large Convoy of vehicles, parked right underneath the station canopy.
01: START UP
The Convoy looks like a cross between a semi truck and a train; there’s no one at the front, but there’s still power humming through the entire Convoy. It’s also the most hospitable thing in sight. Why not make yourself at home a little? You just have to chase that eerie, empty feeling since there’s no one else present.
Alternately, there are the cars scattered around the Convoy; all of them in better shape than the gas station. And some of them looking and feeling almost like they might belong to you. That feeling is only increased, when you see there’s a key to the car nearby. Perhaps the key is already in the ignition, on the dashboard… It may have even been on your person, ever since you woke up in that garage. Either way, you have the keys to the vehicle now.
…But there’s a few rough edges on these vehicles. Flat tires, cracked windows and mirrors, maybe some stuck doors and locks; all of them the sort of thing that requires two pairs of hands and supplies. The garage can take care of the supplies… Now it’s just a matter of finding some extra hands.
Alternately, there are the cars scattered around the Convoy; all of them in better shape than the gas station. And some of them looking and feeling almost like they might belong to you. That feeling is only increased, when you see there’s a key to the car nearby. Perhaps the key is already in the ignition, on the dashboard… It may have even been on your person, ever since you woke up in that garage. Either way, you have the keys to the vehicle now.
…But there’s a few rough edges on these vehicles. Flat tires, cracked windows and mirrors, maybe some stuck doors and locks; all of them the sort of thing that requires two pairs of hands and supplies. The garage can take care of the supplies… Now it’s just a matter of finding some extra hands.
02: RUIN EXPLORATION
The ruined gas station and garage are the only man-made structures around, and have seen better days. The store still holds packaged food, and tepid drinks of all sorts. The garage has old mechanical equipment for working on cars, along with that strange summoning circle.
There's also a giant tree bursting through the gas station roof. And clinging to its branches, half melted into the surface, are metallic bodies. Graffiti is spray painted onto the tree, reading ‘avoid the Husks.’
Those who ignore the warning and get closer hear a faint hum coming off those bodies. It’s almost like whispers, though it’s impossible to make out any clear words. Some Husks are clutching supplies in metal fists. For a few unlucky new arrivals, those Husks might even be holding the keys to their vehicles.
Making direct contact with the Husks intensifies the hum, and the whispers begin to form into pained cries, and give the impression of something rummaging through their thoughts; trying to pry out things that hurt Drifters, and reflecting those hurtful things on the bodies of the Husks for anyone to see.
There's also a giant tree bursting through the gas station roof. And clinging to its branches, half melted into the surface, are metallic bodies. Graffiti is spray painted onto the tree, reading ‘avoid the Husks.’
Those who ignore the warning and get closer hear a faint hum coming off those bodies. It’s almost like whispers, though it’s impossible to make out any clear words. Some Husks are clutching supplies in metal fists. For a few unlucky new arrivals, those Husks might even be holding the keys to their vehicles.
Making direct contact with the Husks intensifies the hum, and the whispers begin to form into pained cries, and give the impression of something rummaging through their thoughts; trying to pry out things that hurt Drifters, and reflecting those hurtful things on the bodies of the Husks for anyone to see.
03: MONSTER ATTACK
The night grows darker, and the shadows grow deeper. And from those shadows comes the glint of something moving across the Husks, rippling over the metal… And breaking it apart in a flurry of too sharp claws and teeth. That’s when the radio chooses to come on in another mess of static.
Be careful- Keep your fear and rage in check- Calls the monsters- We need the shield up-
The warning comes too late as monsters arrive. Some human-like but with razor teeth mouths that stretch from face to groin; others resembling alligators with bloated proportions and jaws that spit lightning; and still others where the vegetation has come to life, sporting thorn covered appendages.
The Pisaca monsters act as shock troopers, wearing the Convoy down with venomous bites and debilitating howls, before the heavy and brutish alligators bull in, using their bulk and electric attacks to obliterate what’s left. The capparwires scurry in the periphery, taking cheap shots with thorny vines and sparking electricity where they can. It’s a task to keep the monsters at bay until the generator fires up. Especially when one last enemy makes an appearance…
Be careful- Keep your fear and rage in check- Calls the monsters- We need the shield up-
The warning comes too late as monsters arrive. Some human-like but with razor teeth mouths that stretch from face to groin; others resembling alligators with bloated proportions and jaws that spit lightning; and still others where the vegetation has come to life, sporting thorn covered appendages.
The Pisaca monsters act as shock troopers, wearing the Convoy down with venomous bites and debilitating howls, before the heavy and brutish alligators bull in, using their bulk and electric attacks to obliterate what’s left. The capparwires scurry in the periphery, taking cheap shots with thorny vines and sparking electricity where they can. It’s a task to keep the monsters at bay until the generator fires up. Especially when one last enemy makes an appearance…
03-A: MIRRORMIC
There's as a metallic shiver along one of the remaining Husks, and a strange ringing whisper in the ears. The next moment, the Husk breaks open in a gleaming pool of quicksilver. That quicksilver catches reflections, and molds itself into a darker copy of a Drifter.
The mirror monster whispers faults and secrets at the reflected Drifter, and anyone close by. It tries to goad Drifters into an attack. And when struck, the mirror monster plays its second trick; whatever damage it takes is reflected back onto the Drifter as a transformation. An injury to the arm transforms the Drifter's arm, and so on.
It's possible to banish this monster through direct lights shone on it from a car, flashlight, or magic… But such action needs to be swift, before the Mirrormic completely changes its Drifter.
03-B: BOMBADGY BOMBARDMENT
Before, during and even a little after the monster attack, there’s an extra presence scurrying around the vehicles, snuffling and barking when startled. A band of chunky, raccoon-esque monsters known as the bombadgy are raiding anything that looks like it could be food storage… And this includes vehicles!
The bombadgy’s claws are deft and sharp with tearing through windows and door seams. These creatures are a touch skittish and won’t attack unless provoked. They also can expel a flammable gas… And this means they can explode if sufficiently spooked or stressed. This also means that they can be treated as living bombs, and be lobbed at other threats if needed.
04: WIND DOWN
During the monster attack, there’s changes gripping the Convoy, and especially the people in it. It might feel like your control is getting worn away by the second… At least until something in the trucks starts to whirr to life. It’s a soft enough noise, little more than a hum as something blooms out of the engines. It fast turns into a shield that envelops the Convoy in a shimmering, glowing dome.
And while it might not be enough to reverse those changes, it can at least stop them from growing any worse. Give you a moment of breathing space to adjust to everything that’s happened, and give you some measure of clarity and control. There’s time to breathe and mend now. Take stock of one’s injuries and changes.
But there’s a few strange surprises still waiting, it seems. Because the corpses of the monsters begin to disintegrate, like they are bleeding out motes of sickly light. Light that you quickly absorb; it has the side effect of lessening pain, even mending wounds… Though it might make you feel a bit off. Maybe a little more excitable, maybe a little more irritable, or maybe expressing a certain odd psychological quirk. Still, that sudden surge should pass in about an hour or so; just need to keep it together until then. Perhaps with a little company.
And while it might not be enough to reverse those changes, it can at least stop them from growing any worse. Give you a moment of breathing space to adjust to everything that’s happened, and give you some measure of clarity and control. There’s time to breathe and mend now. Take stock of one’s injuries and changes.
But there’s a few strange surprises still waiting, it seems. Because the corpses of the monsters begin to disintegrate, like they are bleeding out motes of sickly light. Light that you quickly absorb; it has the side effect of lessening pain, even mending wounds… Though it might make you feel a bit off. Maybe a little more excitable, maybe a little more irritable, or maybe expressing a certain odd psychological quirk. Still, that sudden surge should pass in about an hour or so; just need to keep it together until then. Perhaps with a little company.
05: CAMP
A screen in the Convoy flickers to life. The image isn't visible through a snowfield of static. Same with the audio:
“Still… Alive? Good. Connection- Can’t hear you. Can't talk. Convoy will- take you closer to Nirvana.”
After that, the connection is dropped, leaving a collection of text:
I’m sorry. I have no answers for you. But you’re still alive. You’re not as broken as the rest of the world. When the sun rises, this Convoy and all the cars around it will start moving North towards Nirvana. If you want answers, and to stay as close to human as you can… I suggest you stay with the Convoy. Good luck.
A last alert flashes across the screen: “TESTING LOCAL NETWORK CONNECTION.” And then… Music starts to play on the speakers. Mellow guitar and brass music that’s at odds with all the weird that’s happened recently, but perhaps just the thing to relax to.
“Still… Alive? Good. Connection- Can’t hear you. Can't talk. Convoy will- take you closer to Nirvana.”
After that, the connection is dropped, leaving a collection of text:
I’m sorry. I have no answers for you. But you’re still alive. You’re not as broken as the rest of the world. When the sun rises, this Convoy and all the cars around it will start moving North towards Nirvana. If you want answers, and to stay as close to human as you can… I suggest you stay with the Convoy. Good luck.
A last alert flashes across the screen: “TESTING LOCAL NETWORK CONNECTION.” And then… Music starts to play on the speakers. Mellow guitar and brass music that’s at odds with all the weird that’s happened recently, but perhaps just the thing to relax to.
MICRO ENCOUNTERS:
PLEASE NOTE! These are small bits of set dressing for players to include in threads if they wish, rather than full fledged prompts or events. You may handwave your exploration of these areas, or thread them out.
Race Track: There’s a race track that winds around the gas station! It’s a bit threadbare in places and little more than a mossy and muddy trail. But it’s still a race track that weaves under and over trees, and seems like a good place to test new wheels.
Gone Fishing: The gas station area eventually turns into the start of a swamp; that explains where the alligators came from. It may be possible to do a little bit of fishing, though the fish are just as weird as everything else. Still edible though. Swimming in the swamp is not advised. The alligator monsters and fish tend to bite back.
Spray Paint Messages: The paint on the trees and gas station is starting to fade and wash out, but can still be legible; most of it contains messages warning about the end of the world, prayers to the heavens for mercy, and dire warnings about husks and something called “moon warps.”
no subject
Which is weird, because Blake thought she would have noticed something like that. Combat is distracting, sure, but distracting enough to not notice two of her canines turning into fangs? Then again, apparently Yang didn't notice growing two whole wolf ears, which should have been even more of a noticeable thing, so maybe these changes are made deliberately free of sensation. Which would suggest-- what? Some virus? Magic? Technology? Is it all accidental, or is someone doing this to them? It is a little suspicious that there just happens to be a convoy right next to them that will take them to Nirvana, like the broadcast said--
The rattle of Yang's keys draws Blake from her thoughts.
Blake sighs, putting a hand to her forehead. Her, "Yes." is reluctant, short, and a tiny bit annoyed. She turns to pick the camper out of the lineout, and points it out to Yang. "There. That big rectangle in purple and white, with the cracked windows. That's mine."
She wishes she'd gotten something more useful, like a fast car or a tank or something. Anything but a stupid camper that looks like it goes about twenty miles an hour.
"What about you?"
no subject
Well, that's not the response Yang was expecting. She follows where her teammate points to...well, definitely not a motorcycle. No wonder why Blake's not enthused.
"No, that's great! We can work with that." She decides. "Let me take a look at the engine later, see what we're dealing with. I can make her sing for ya, no problem." She used to work on the old family car with Tai when she was younger, and does all her own work and maintenance on Bumblebee. Engines are engines, and Yang knows how to tune them.
There's paint around here too, and that's an awful lot of space on the side of the van...it calls to her.
As to her own ride, well. She rubs the back of her neck a little sheepishly. "Ah...mine's...that one. Over there." She raises her hand and points towards a yellow and black muscle car, in much the same condition as Blake's van. Paint is chipped, cracked windows, but still very much a muscle car that screams speed and power.
"I guess whoever or whatever brought us here knows not to try and compete with 'Bee."
no subject
When she points out her own vehicle, Blake gasps out loud.
Look. Blake isn't much of a vehicle nut, but neither is she immune to the sight of a really, really well designed muscle car. Nobody is immune to that kind of sight. And sure, the paint is chipped and the windows are damaged, but it's still an amazing looking car, and Yang's going to look really good sitting behind the wheel of this thing.
Blake makes her way over to it, carefully smoothing over a hand over the black stripe on the hood. "Wow," she laughs, shooting Yang an amused little look. "This is... kind of uncanny, actually. It's exactly your taste, right down to the colors."
Now why did Yang get a cool car exactly to her taste and Blake got a stupid slow rectangle? Is this karma?
"Mine's got a couple of rows of seats taken out, actually, so there's a big empty space in the back. Would be good for storage if we ever need to... I don't know, take lots of supplies with us?"
no subject
"Yeah, I noticed that too." She agrees readily, hoping to sort of divert away from the way Blake is making her chest flutter. "It's pretty much custom-built for me, but..." This place has been abandoned for awhile, and the cars all look like they've been here about as long. "I dunno whether to be suspicious or overjoyed."
She really, really wants to be the latter, though.
She leans against the front of the car, half-sitting, half-leaning. "Storage nothing. What's the point of that big monstrosity if not for storage?" She thumbs towards the train. "You've got living space in your car, Blake." As much as Yang is really, really, really into the Charger (and gods help her, she is, she hasn't stopped hollering internally since she realized she had the keys for it in her pocket), it's not the roomiest vehicle in the world. Two seats, and a very minimal trunk. Certainly cozy, but not exactly the most livable car in the world.
no subject
She guesses the convoy is where they're meant to sleep, but. No thank you. Blake had had enough trouble adjusting to sleeping with her team in the same room back at Beacon -- though she'd eventually come to feel weird trying to sleep without Yang's snoring or Ruby's sleep muttering, she doesn't relish the idea of sleeping around a bunch of strangers here. Maybe there's private cabins?
Blake mirrors Yang and half-leans against the front of the muscle car. "So, what are you going to call it? Because I know you, if you named your bike, you're definitely going to name your car," she teases. "It's also black and yellow, so... Hornet? The Wasp?"
no subject
She laughs, but the Faunus (her fellow Faunus, Yang corrects herself; seems she's part of the group now too) has her number. "I'm workshopping a couple of ideas! Though, yes, "Hornet" was one of them." It just seemed to make sense, if this was going to be a companion to Bumblebee back on Remnant. But one of her ears flicks thoughtfully and she looks down at the hood.
"Things have changed now, though. Now I'm thinking...oh, wait. Hang on." She fishes around in her pockets and produces her aviator glasses. With a flick, she opens them up and raises the shades to her eyes. "Now I'm thinking...she's a Wild Rider." Yang proclaims she puts the glasses on like a badass and turns to look at Blake.
See, cause now she's, you know.
Awoo.
Get it.
no subject
Okay. It's a little bit funny.
But Blake's not going to admit that. That would just give Yang ideas.
Blake lets her hand drop from her face, and the pun just turns her attention to Yang's new ears again. They're fully reactive like any Faunus'; turning at noises, expressing emotion. They're adorable.
"You know, I wouldn't have pegged you as a wolf," she says thoughtfully. "Like, if I had to make a list of Most Likely Faunus Traits For Yang Xiao Long, wolf might be up there, but definitely not at the top of the list. They suit you, though."
no subject
Yang's always thought Blake's ears were really cute, especially since she stopped wearing the hair ribbon that had allowed her to pass as human back at Beacon. The fact that they not only match now, but have a theme to go with it, the classic Cat And Dog, well...Yang won't argue with that.
no subject
"Well, I always thought you'd really suit a dragon tail. You know, one of those long serpent dragons with the fluffy manes?"
Yes. She has, in fact, spent a lot of time thinking about this. When she was a kid, she used to headcanon all of her favourite storybook characters as Faunus, even when the covers had shown them all as humans. She guesses the habit just stuck, because she's given serious thought to what kind of Faunus all the humans in her life would be.
"Unlike the stereotypes, not every Faunus displays the personality traits of the animal they have a resemblance to. Some do, some don't. It's mostly just random. Anyway, there used to be this really old idea that wolves were loners, or strictly heirarchal, but they're actually really family oriented. They're loyal, and intelligent, and--"
She breaks off, smiling.
"I guess it does suit you."
no subject
She just watches Blake go on about describing wolves with a small smile, enjoying how excited she is. It's night and day from their days at Beacon. "Their days at Beacon" like that was some long-distant memory. Or that Yang had been angry at her, about the way Blake had disappeared after the school's fall, run off without a word, after everything. How much her absence ate at Yang, and how even after she'd pulled herself out of that hole she'd still held the anger at her absence close. That she was fine with Blake not being with them. Not being with her.
And how quickly that all evaporated when she did come back at Haven. And Yang's just watching her enthusiastically talking about how awesome wolves are, and how much Yang herself is one.
For a moment she just holds her gaze at Blake when she finishes talking, and Yang wishes she could keep going. Whatever else is happening right now, wherever they are or what the hell "Nirvana" really is, she realizes she could spend all evening listening to Blake Belladonna talk about wolves.
"...Thanks, Blake." It's quiet, and heartfelt. "I think you're right."
no subject
Gods, she's lucky. She's lucky that Yang's so forgiving. Months ago, Blake had been absolutely convinced that Yang should hate her. She'd taken a self-destructive kind of satisfaction in imagining it, in twisting that knife deeper into herself as she'd pictured over and over again Yang turning away from her in disgust if they ever met again. But that hadn't happened. And Blake doesn't know if she'll ever be able to pay Yang back for that grace.
"I guess this means you're going to be referring to us as your pack, now," she teases gently. Sure, Ruby and Weiss aren't here, but they're all so attached at the hip that Blake's halfway sure they won't be far behind. She hopes so, at least.
Falling silent, she looks out across the convoy, the glimmer of vehicle lights in the darkness. The train cars stretch out into the distance, and people must be inside, because she can see shadows in the windows.
"I guess we should probably explore that, huh?" She nods at the convoy.
no subject
She doesn't know if that's an actual possibility here, but better to be safe than sorry.
Yang follows Blake's gaze to the train. She'd been avoiding going in, but it looks like others are investigating already, and it did at least save them from the monster horde. "Yeah, maybe there's a dining car or something." She wonders. Gas station junk food is only gonna get them so far. "You wanna see if there are overnight cars, or are we bunking in your van tonight?" At least in Blake's van they could stretch out on the back seats.
She takes it as granted that they'll be sharing quarters, on the convoy or in the van regardless. Even if they hadn't all shared a room back at Beacon together, now that she and Blake have found each other, Yang isn't going to let them get separated again.
no subject
Still-- Yang had said we. An automatic assumption that wherever they'll be sleeping, they'll be doing it together. Over and over, Blake is surprised at Yang's willingness to continue being around her, but she's so grateful for it.
They start making their way toward the convoy. Up close, she can see it's got a semi-truck at the front to tow a long train of trailers, though she can't tell what's inside those trailers from the outside. Blake cautiously steps inside; it's a little cramped, but easy enough to follow a path down the main line. The first trailer has doors on the side which, when opened, reveal small bedrooms, bunks tucked into the walls. Despite everything, they actually look pretty cozy, warm lamplight softening the view.
Blake's mostly just wondering if she can steal a mattress to put in the back of her van.
"I guess this isn't too bad," she says dubiously. (She has slept on rock floors, in abandoned barns, and in trees, this is worlds better. Still.) "It's really only a little smaller than our beds back at Beacon."
no subject
"I don't get it though. Someone had to prepare these rooms, right? The beds are made and everything." She'd tried, but couldn't make anyone out in the cab of the semi-truck at the front of the convoy. "And the shield that fried all the monsters that were left definitely didn't turn itself on, right?"
She sits down on one of the beds in thought. "So where are they?"
no subject
One that she hadn't really considered before now, actually. She'd seen the convoy and had known that someone must have driven it here, to this exact spot, to receive them where they'd been summoned in the garage. But she hadn't stopped to think about where those people might be now.
Still in the hallway, she pokes her head into another door, and sees a different bedroom -- this one bigger, with a queen bed instead of the single bunks. Blake has a tiny, brief thought about sharing one with Yang, and hurriedly shoves that thought down before she starts blushing and giving herself away.
Nope, not acknowledging those feelings, thank you. She-- Yang lost an arm because of her. Went through abandonment trauma all over again because of her. Blake can't have feelings for her. She can't dump even more problems on Yang.
So she returns to the bunk room, arms folded, leaning against the doorway, doing her best to not think about things related to... feelings.
"We'll have to keep an eye out. The truck at the front could be automated, I guess, but there might be someone or something tending to the rest of this convoy. If we can find one, we can question them. Maybe try to figure out a way home."
no subject
Like "Salem Cannot Be Killed and I Have No Idea How To Stop Her" stuff. And as soon as all that was out in the open, he'd fled into the recesses of Oscar's mind and locked the door tight behind him. That bastard! It still hurt, knowing how much she'd looked up to him back at Beacon. And everything she'd lost...everyone she'd lost...yeah, it was Salem's fault for being the reason they were gone.
But it was Ozpin's fault too, for sacrificing them for no reason. Just so he could buy time.
Yang places her hand over the wrist of her prosthetic one, and takes a breath. "I guess we'll have to wait and see." She says finally. Not much else they can do. She looks back up at Blake, and her usual good cheer seems to have set back in, though she still grips her wrist.
"So, what do you think? We wanna risk staying in here tonight, or are we stripping these beds down and stealing a mattress for the van?" She leans forward a bit trying to see out into the hallway where Blake had been. "What's the other room like?" She asks curiously. Blake had come out of there awfully fast...
no subject
She breathes out a sigh. "Yeah. I don't like being this out of our depth. Again." At least there had been a way to force answers out of Ozpin. She's not sure there's a method like that here, not unless they find and interrogate someone working in the convoy. The whole thing is weird, but honestly, it's not that much weirder than finding out magic is real and immortal witches exist, so. Blake's kind of inoculated against being too weirded out right now.
Yang's question has Blake struggling to be casual. And mostly succeeding, at least. "There's bedrooms for couples further along. Maybe we'll steal one of those mattresses instead of two singles."
Oh, she really shouldn't assume she'll need space for two in the back of the van. But Yang had said that she wanted to be wherever Blake was. But Blake doesn't want to coerce her or anything--
Ugh. She's overthinking this.
"That's assuming it's possible to steal them. Shouldn't be too hard if they're separate from the bed frame, but we should probably explore the rest of the train before that."
no subject
Anyway. That can come later. "Yeah, now I really wanna find a kitchen or dining car. We can't live entirely on gas station junk food, fun as that might be." She steps past Blake into the hall and looks down it...
After a moment, Yang blinks and rubs her eyes. "I must be tireder than I thought." For a second the hallway looked...too long? Longer than it seemed to be on the outside. But when she looks down it again...
"Hey, Blake. If you look straight down the car does it look off, to you?"
no subject
Great. Another weird thing; this convoy might be bigger on the inside than the outside.
They keep making their way down, and eventually, a few cars in, find a kitchen. It looks relatively normal, if narrower and longer than most kitchens in regular houses, but it's a relief to see. The only problem is, when Blake looks around for food, she... isn't exactly finding a whole lot. Porridge, sugar, flour, and that's about it.
"We might have to start foraging, because this doesn't exactly look like like it'd sustain a balanced diet."
no subject
Once they reach the kitchen, Yang wastes no time in helping Blake look, and the results are less than satisfying. "Looks like." She agrees, looking over a box of porridge. She puts it down and leans back against a counter, folding her arms across her chest. "So we're not meant to be too comfortable here." She muses, whoever "they" are. "They give us a little, but not enough to be self-sufficient on this train." And there's a decent-sized group out there, assuming nobody got killed in the attack. "And this stuff we'll burn through pretty quick. If we find any towns or settlements, we'll probably have to scavenge, too."
The idea is...distasteful, rummaging through the remains of people's lives, at least the gas station wasn't a home, but the circumstances don't leave them much choice.
no subject
She really hopes they won't have to scavenge from dead people again.
"Or we could hunt," she adds thoughtfully, "if there's any herbivores around here, or wherever we stop next. We could fish, too, if there's any water."
That, at least, she has some experience in. But with all of those monsters around, she has no idea if there's any animals left in the area. She picks up a box of porridge to examine it; it doesn't exactly look thrilling.
no subject
At least there won't be any Apathy.
"No one needs me tearing through the woods scaring all the animals away, but fishing I can definitely do." Yang replies, turning her thoughts away from those unpleasant memories. "I don't like to brag, but I've pulled in more than a few whoppers in my day." A line almost as corny as the wink Yang shoots Blake as she says it.
Patch was an island and mostly everyone who lived there lived close to the coast; the interior was Grimm territory. You lived there expecting fish would be a big part of your diet, and Taiyang had taught Yang to fish a bit, once he'd...come back. She'd taken to it more than she thought she would.
And it's even more of a flex in the company of a young woman who Yang knows for a fact to have a voracious appetite for all things fishy.
Well, that appears to be the limit of what this kitchen car can offer them. Yang closes the cupboard she'd been examining, its contents as unexciting as the porridge Blake is currently examining.
"So, kitchen's kind of a bust, but at least we know we've got one. Want to keep going, see what else we've got to work with, or...not, as the case may be."