Welcome to Halfway

Zooz has been on the move for several days, now, heading east through the valleys towards the old rupture farms site and southwards over the foothills that eventually led to the dry expanse of Scrabania. Scrabania itself is a place they had yet to explore: despite Trill’s apparent affinity for the area, the heat and imminent danger from native wildlife is unnapealing, to say the least. Trill might be ready to dive over the edge of a cliff and make an escape at a moment’s notice, but the same could not be said for a mudokon.

The desert and scrub gradually becomes grassland and forest again, and Zooz coaxes Trill lower, looking for an ideal place to stop and take a break. Beneath them, sensing the shadow above, white specks scatter amongst the trees. Meep. And where there’s meep, there’s mudokons. No sign of a village, though, but eventually they spot it: one single cottage; still occupied, by the looks of it.

It takes a minute to find somewhere to land with enough clearance for Trill that won’t send the meep into a frenzy, but they find one eventually, and Zooz keeps a tight hold on his harness as they make their way up towards the cottage. The meep are keeping their distance, and Trill knows well enough not to attack livestock at random, but the last thing they want is an… accident. It’s happened, once or twice, with disastrous consequences.

( @ida-of-oddworld )

“Who are you?” A voice called out from the treeline. Upon looking around they would finally catch a bright pink plumage before they saw the mudokon attached to it. She was a deep earthy green, dressed in dark blacks, and her eyes lined with deep black kohl that made her blazing orange eyes stand out all the more. Her eyes were narrowed slightly and in her paws was a large pistol, clearly a sort right off a slig. It wasn’t trained on them, and her finger wasn’t on the trigger, gun safety kids but it was clear she was being cautious and would attack given a reason.

Zooz whips around to find the source of the voice, and when they do, they raise a hand in greeting.

“Hi!” they call out, taking note of but seemingly unbothered by the gun for now. They’ve had more hostile greetings. “Name’s Zooz. We were just passin’ through, an’ I was lookin’ for somewhere to take a break, an’, well, it’s always more interestin’ to stop off somewhere where there’s other people around. You live here?”

They remember the gun, at this point, and give it a second glance. “‘Course, if you’d rather not have visitors, we can make ourselves scarce. I was just curious, is all. Nice little place you got.”

Ida hummed and casually tucked her gun away after quickly putting the safety on and unloading it. “I do live here. But I don’t have much to offer someone passing through.” Ida motioned a bit away from her home – there was a well there. “Except for fresh well water. You can take a drink if you need one.”

“That’s fine. I’m not lookin’ for a five-course meal and a show or anythin’,” Zooz laughs. With Ida’s invitation, they start in the direction of the well, still leading Trill by the harness. “I’ll take you up on the water, though. Thanks. Oh, and, uh, don’t mind this big guy, here.” They give Trill a solid pat on one muscular shoulder. His appearance is often… offputting to strangers who don’t appreciate unfamiliar predators showing up on their doorstep. “I’m assumin’ the meep are yours, too? He won’t touch ‘em, I promise. He knows it’s rude to eat livestock. You can come say hi, if you like.”

“Aye, the meep are mine.” Ida looked at Trill and smiled at the creature. “I appreciate him not moving to eat any of my brainless bags of fluff. He seems well behaved.” Ida lowered her legs so she could let them swing free off the tree branch. She reached over to a basket beside her and pulls out what appears to be knitting. Whatever it is, it’s black and hard to make out from a distance what it is. “No offense, but I’m feeling too lazy to move right now. It’s nice to meetcha though. Name’s Ida.” She gave a grin, knitting away without needing to look at her hands.

“Well, that’s fair. I won’t make ya move.” Smiling, Zooz stops at the well and draws up a bucket of water, which they set on the ground for Trill; he dips his muzzle in and drinks gratefully. Zooz reaches up to his saddle, and starts fiddling with one of the bags latched onto it. Their brow furrows in a look of mild determination for a moment, before they finally manage to tug free the small package of food they were searching for among their belongings. Food in hand, they turn back to face Ida. “Mind if I join you over there?”

“Sure, I don’t mind.” Ida waved her hand, “Just mind your step if you plan on coming up the tree.”

Ida cracked a smile and continued knitting away, occasionally she looked up towards the meep huddled up nearby to ensure none have gone missing.

“Don’t worry. I got this.” Taking the cloth the food is wrapped in between their teeth, Zooz clambers up into an adjacent tree and settles on a branch just on par with Ida. “So,” they say, as they unwrap the packet, revealing several smaller, individually-wrapped items inside, “Just you out here? You been doin’ this long?”

“Yep, just me out here. Moved out her probably five years ago now.” She said casually as she glanced up from her knitting.

“What about you? What’s got you traveling?”

“Me? Well.” Zooz wraps up a small chunk of meat from one of the packages in a piece of flatbread and pops it into their mouth. “I started runnin’ errands for people, seein’ as I got a set of wings to get around on with Trill, and it kinda grew outta that. Village life is fine an’ all, but there’s so much world out here to see, y’know? And all the old cultural stuff that you can find... seems like a shame for it to be sittin’ around all forgotten about. I think it’s interestin’. I like to draw stuff, take pictures of it when I can. Maybe there’s folks out there who can still recognise all the art an’ writing an’ stuff and be able to make some real sense of it.”

themudokonmessiah-deactivated20

juno-the-wanderer

[ 🧀 ] is there something your muse can’t live down, no matter how hard they try? what is it? if not, is there something your muse has said or done that embarrasses them?

'Uhhh...'

homeishalfway:

“That’s… rough, bud.” Zooz nods along and twirls the flower between their fingers, staring at it thoughtfully. Of course, people would worry about Abe. It’s relieving, kind of, to know that he has that kind of support. But there’s always a limit to how much “support” you can take.

“I’m sure they care about ya a whole lot. They probably just wanna know that you’re lookin’ after yourself, y’know? Savin’ a whole race of people, that’s a lotta responsibility for one guy to have to carry.”

Zooz looks up from the flower and across at Abe. “But I think I get it. We got a lotta people at home dealin’ with stuff–addics, trauma, culture shock–and we got people to help ‘em with that. But that constant fussin’ over people don’t work. You gotta have room to breathe. I know that feelin’.”

At this point, the ground levels out, and they come to a clearing among the trees. A little brook flows over rocks up ahead; insects flit above the glittering water.

“Mind if we stop for a sec?” Zooz asks, making for one of the larger boulders by the side of the stream, which they clamber onto and take a seat. They tuck the flower into their feather tie and offer a paw out to help Abe up beside them. “Anyway, I don’t know how to get your folks to listen without knowin’ ‘em or what they’re like, but it doesn’t sound like you’re doin’ anythin’ wrong. They just worry ‘cause you’re important to ‘em. It can’t be easy, doin’ what you do.”

The messiah sighs a little, nodding. He can entirely understand why they’re worried about him, but he was not used to it, and it was only making him feel worse. The last thing he had wanted for anybody was to actually get themselves hurt over him in some shape or form. It wasn’t right or fair on any of them. Abe hated how he was always so emotional and that, in turn, made others sad or worried. He felt like they were walking on eggshells around him.

“Yeah. It’s what I try to tell them, but it always seems to come out in some way that just makes them more worried. I’m sure they must think I’m neglecting myself on purpose, even though that is not the case. Being a slave for all of your life does things to you. My adoptive family are natives, so it’s tough for them to relate to the slavery life. I have Alf, Toby, and the others, though they’re off doing their own thing right now and I do not want to cause them any concern. It’s just so hard to be strong and to change at the same time, you know?”

Upon being asked if they could stop, the messiah nods. Abe accepts the help with a smile, following his friend still. He continues to listen to Zooz, knowing Zooz could understand the horrors he went through as Zooz was a slave like himself. If anything, it felt nice to talk to somebody else who understood, as much as he loved his family. It was just so hard to get them to stop worrying when he tried to protest how this was a normal thing for him and how they’d insist they would do everything for him instead.

Abe just wished he could explain things a lot better to them than he could, then maybe… Just maybe, they’d see he was actually okay. Still, he couldn’t be mad at them though. This was their way of caring about him.

“I love them, however,” Abe says with a smile. “It’s just that I don’t understand the concept of family love, myself. Unless it’s with the others at Rupture Farms. Everything is so new and scary. I just don’t know how to cope with it all. How did you deal with everything when you ended up here? Did you struggle? Like I have been?”

"Hey, don't I know it. It's bad enough for us regular chumps dealin' with the culture shock on its own, without havin' to worry about Odd-given responsibilities to the world on top of that. Can't imagine how hard that must be. It's not like you got someone else's footsteps to follow in, is it? Nobody who came before ya to show you the ropes. I've come across a lotta old stories in the things I've found, but nothin' on the scale of yours." Zooz pauses to take a hollowed gourd of water from their hip; they uncork it and take a few sips, offering it out to Abe before continuing.

"Me? I struggled like hell. Like I said, I was pretty lost 'til I found Trill." They nod over at the dratt, who's taking a drink himself from the stream beside them. "Before that, y'know, there was the brew, and I had no idea what I was s'posed to do with myself all day. Life out here ain't so strict. There's jobs to do, but it ain't relentless, like in the factory. It was weird, actually, not bein' crammed in tight with everyone. There's so much space out here. That's what had me freaked out the most. I kinda just holed up on my own for a while.

"But, y'know, then I found Trill, and I had to start engagin' with stuff, talkin' to people again so I could get stuff to look after him--he was burnt up real bad, needed a lotta care for a while. And the more I talked to people, the more I started to realise that everyone's here for each other, y'know? It's all about the community you're part of, everyone workin' together, even for the people who need more than they have to give back right now. Hell, none of us asked to be here. None of us asked for the crap we've been through, but it happened, and there's still a person under there who needs carin' for. Nobody's a lost cause. We got it drilled into us that we gotta be useful to be worth bein' kept alive, but industrialist rules don't fly out here."

Sighing, Zooz hooks the water gourd back to their belt, and slings their bag off their back. "Sorry. Got kinda sidetracked there, maybe," they say with a sheepish smile. "Point is, you gotta find your anchor. Somethin' that makes you forget how scary everythin' is, or at least feels too important to let bein' afraid get to ya." Jeez, who'd have thought they'd find themself doling out life advice to Abe, of all people? It's a little surreal. But, then, Zooz isn't someone to put people on pedestals. Divine powers or not, mudokon-to-mudokon, Abe is no different to them in conversation than anyone else they've met.

With their bag in their lap, Zooz unfastens it and roots around inside for a moment, producing a handful of papers scrawled with notes and crudely-drawn maps. They select one of said maps and examine it for a few seconds.

"Oh! I actually know where we are. There's something I wanted to check out last time I was over this way, but it was gettin' too dark and I didn't wanna go pokin' around in case I got lost somewhere. You wanna come with me? Maybe see somethin' cool?"

Zooz has been on the move for several days, now, heading east through the valleys towards the old rupture farms site and southwards over the foothills that eventually led to the dry expanse of Scrabania. Scrabania itself is a place they had yet to explore: despite Trill’s apparent affinity for the area, the heat and imminent danger from native wildlife is unnapealing, to say the least. Trill might be ready to dive over the edge of a cliff and make an escape at a moment’s notice, but the same could not be said for a mudokon.

The desert and scrub gradually becomes grassland and forest again, and Zooz coaxes Trill lower, looking for an ideal place to stop and take a break. Beneath them, sensing the shadow above, white specks scatter amongst the trees. Meep. And where there’s meep, there’s mudokons. No sign of a village, though, but eventually they spot it: one single cottage; still occupied, by the looks of it.

It takes a minute to find somewhere to land with enough clearance for Trill that won’t send the meep into a frenzy, but they find one eventually, and Zooz keeps a tight hold on his harness as they make their way up towards the cottage. The meep are keeping their distance, and Trill knows well enough not to attack livestock at random, but the last thing they want is an… accident. It’s happened, once or twice, with disastrous consequences.

( @ida-of-oddworld )

“Who are you?” A voice called out from the treeline. Upon looking around they would finally catch a bright pink plumage before they saw the mudokon attached to it. She was a deep earthy green, dressed in dark blacks, and her eyes lined with deep black kohl that made her blazing orange eyes stand out all the more. Her eyes were narrowed slightly and in her paws was a large pistol, clearly a sort right off a slig. It wasn’t trained on them, and her finger wasn’t on the trigger, gun safety kids but it was clear she was being cautious and would attack given a reason.

Zooz whips around to find the source of the voice, and when they do, they raise a hand in greeting.

“Hi!” they call out, taking note of but seemingly unbothered by the gun for now. They’ve had more hostile greetings. “Name’s Zooz. We were just passin’ through, an’ I was lookin’ for somewhere to take a break, an’, well, it’s always more interestin’ to stop off somewhere where there’s other people around. You live here?”

They remember the gun, at this point, and give it a second glance. “‘Course, if you’d rather not have visitors, we can make ourselves scarce. I was just curious, is all. Nice little place you got.”

Ida hummed and casually tucked her gun away after quickly putting the safety on and unloading it. “I do live here. But I don’t have much to offer someone passing through.” Ida motioned a bit away from her home – there was a well there. “Except for fresh well water. You can take a drink if you need one.”

“That’s fine. I’m not lookin’ for a five-course meal and a show or anythin’,” Zooz laughs. With Ida’s invitation, they start in the direction of the well, still leading Trill by the harness. “I’ll take you up on the water, though. Thanks. Oh, and, uh, don’t mind this big guy, here.” They give Trill a solid pat on one muscular shoulder. His appearance is often… offputting to strangers who don’t appreciate unfamiliar predators showing up on their doorstep. “I’m assumin’ the meep are yours, too? He won’t touch ‘em, I promise. He knows it’s rude to eat livestock. You can come say hi, if you like.”

“Aye, the meep are mine.” Ida looked at Trill and smiled at the creature. “I appreciate him not moving to eat any of my brainless bags of fluff. He seems well behaved.” Ida lowered her legs so she could let them swing free off the tree branch. She reached over to a basket beside her and pulls out what appears to be knitting. Whatever it is, it’s black and hard to make out from a distance what it is. “No offense, but I’m feeling too lazy to move right now. It’s nice to meetcha though. Name’s Ida.” She gave a grin, knitting away without needing to look at her hands.

“Well, that’s fair. I won’t make ya move.” Smiling, Zooz stops at the well and draws up a bucket of water, which they set on the ground for Trill; he dips his muzzle in and drinks gratefully. Zooz reaches up to his saddle, and starts fiddling with one of the bags latched onto it. Their brow furrows in a look of mild determination for a moment, before they finally manage to tug free the small package of food they were searching for among their belongings. Food in hand, they turn back to face Ida. “Mind if I join you over there?”

“Sure, I don’t mind.” Ida waved her hand, “Just mind your step if you plan on coming up the tree.”

Ida cracked a smile and continued knitting away, occasionally she looked up towards the meep huddled up nearby to ensure none have gone missing.

#rp #zooz #sorry i fell off the planet for a bit. unfortunately i have brain

“Don’t worry. I got this.” Taking the cloth the food is wrapped in between their teeth, Zooz clambers up into an adjacent tree and settles on a branch just on par with Ida. “So,” they say, as they unwrap the packet, revealing several smaller, individually-wrapped items inside, “Just you out here? You been doin’ this long?”

juno-the-wanderer

Lineup of some key characters from the Takartha tribe, many of which I have not found names for yet but play a vital role in Juno’s story.

#I DIDN'T REBLOG THIS YET #perfect #excellent #.modpost

Zooz has been on the move for several days, now, heading east through the valleys towards the old rupture farms site and southwards over the foothills that eventually led to the dry expanse of Scrabania. Scrabania itself is a place they had yet to explore: despite Trill’s apparent affinity for the area, the heat and imminent danger from native wildlife is unnapealing, to say the least. Trill might be ready to dive over the edge of a cliff and make an escape at a moment’s notice, but the same could not be said for a mudokon.

The desert and scrub gradually becomes grassland and forest again, and Zooz coaxes Trill lower, looking for an ideal place to stop and take a break. Beneath them, sensing the shadow above, white specks scatter amongst the trees. Meep. And where there’s meep, there’s mudokons. No sign of a village, though, but eventually they spot it: one single cottage; still occupied, by the looks of it.

It takes a minute to find somewhere to land with enough clearance for Trill that won’t send the meep into a frenzy, but they find one eventually, and Zooz keeps a tight hold on his harness as they make their way up towards the cottage. The meep are keeping their distance, and Trill knows well enough not to attack livestock at random, but the last thing they want is an… accident. It’s happened, once or twice, with disastrous consequences.

( @ida-of-oddworld )

“Who are you?” A voice called out from the treeline. Upon looking around they would finally catch a bright pink plumage before they saw the mudokon attached to it. She was a deep earthy green, dressed in dark blacks, and her eyes lined with deep black kohl that made her blazing orange eyes stand out all the more. Her eyes were narrowed slightly and in her paws was a large pistol, clearly a sort right off a slig. It wasn’t trained on them, and her finger wasn’t on the trigger, gun safety kids but it was clear she was being cautious and would attack given a reason.

Zooz whips around to find the source of the voice, and when they do, they raise a hand in greeting.

“Hi!” they call out, taking note of but seemingly unbothered by the gun for now. They’ve had more hostile greetings. “Name’s Zooz. We were just passin’ through, an’ I was lookin’ for somewhere to take a break, an’, well, it’s always more interestin’ to stop off somewhere where there’s other people around. You live here?”

They remember the gun, at this point, and give it a second glance. “‘Course, if you’d rather not have visitors, we can make ourselves scarce. I was just curious, is all. Nice little place you got.”

Ida hummed and casually tucked her gun away after quickly putting the safety on and unloading it. “I do live here. But I don’t have much to offer someone passing through.” Ida motioned a bit away from her home – there was a well there. “Except for fresh well water. You can take a drink if you need one.”

“That’s fine. I’m not lookin’ for a five-course meal and a show or anythin’,” Zooz laughs. With Ida’s invitation, they start in the direction of the well, still leading Trill by the harness. “I’ll take you up on the water, though. Thanks. Oh, and, uh, don’t mind this big guy, here.” They give Trill a solid pat on one muscular shoulder. His appearance is often… offputting to strangers who don’t appreciate unfamiliar predators showing up on their doorstep. “I’m assumin’ the meep are yours, too? He won’t touch ‘em, I promise. He knows it’s rude to eat livestock. You can come say hi, if you like.”

“Aye, the meep are mine.” Ida looked at Trill and smiled at the creature. “I appreciate him not moving to eat any of my brainless bags of fluff. He seems well behaved.” Ida lowered her legs so she could let them swing free off the tree branch. She reached over to a basket beside her and pulls out what appears to be knitting. Whatever it is, it’s black and hard to make out from a distance what it is. “No offense, but I’m feeling too lazy to move right now. It’s nice to meetcha though. Name’s Ida.” She gave a grin, knitting away without needing to look at her hands.

“Well, that’s fair. I won’t make ya move.” Smiling, Zooz stops at the well and draws up a bucket of water, which they set on the ground for Trill; he dips his muzzle in and drinks gratefully. Zooz reaches up to his saddle, and starts fiddling with one of the bags latched onto it. Their brow furrows in a look of mild determination for a moment, before they finally manage to tug free the small package of food they were searching for among their belongings. Food in hand, they turn back to face Ida. “Mind if I join you over there?”

themudokonmessiah-deactivated20

homeishalfway:

“Heh, well, I feel well. Life’s good now, y’know? Just me ‘n Trill ‘n the big, wide world to explore. I mean, there’s home, too–when I’m not all over Mudos, I live in this village, Halfway, and it feels like every time I go back, there’s a buncha new faces there. Sometimes slaves, sometimes natives. Anyone who ain’t got anywhere to go… we’re tryin’ to build somethin’ that helps everyone. And, y’know, so far, it’s workin’ out pretty damn well.”

Taking another look at Abe, it doesn’t slip Zooz’s notice that he himself does… not look quite so hot. He seems tired. Drained. He mentions things going on at home and Zooz’s concern tips the scale.

“Stuff at home, huh?” Zooz absently plucks a flower from a nearby bush; they’re on a subtle but steady downward slope, and the tree cover is starting to thin, allowing more sunlight to pierce through the forest canopy. “Mind if I ask what? Not that you have to tell, if you don’t wanna.”

Honestly, Abe was so glad that Zooz was doing so good. It was a shame that Abe wasn’t as healthy as Zooz was in terms of his health. The messiah often got stressed, exhausted, yet he kept on trying to do his best for everyone else despite suffering from insomnia and goodness knows what else was hidden underneath his chest.

“A-ah, s-stress. Dealing with s-stuff. I keep– I-I keep getting upset o-over stuff, and i-it’s stupid. S-sometimes, I can barely s-sleep. I hate it. I-I don’t anyone back home to g-get concerned about me. They a-already worry enough about th-things. I-it’s… It’s mainly…”

Oh, great. His throat is tight. Abe clears his throat, trying to get himself to talk about it. He knows Zooz can’t go back and tell his loved ones at home, so what was the worry here? “E-everyone sees me as this fragile p-person and that makes me think they’re w-walking on eggshells around m-me. They look a-at me like I’m about to b-break into pieces. I-I’ll be okay, you know? I keep t-telling them this, but… B-but they still worry. I-it makes me think I d-did something wrong.”

“That’s... rough, bud.” Zooz nods along and twirls the flower between their fingers, staring at it thoughtfully. Of course, people would worry about Abe. It’s relieving, kind of, to know that he has that kind of support. But there’s always a limit to how much “support” you can take.

“I’m sure they care about ya a whole lot. They probably just wanna know that you’re lookin’ after yourself, y’know? Savin’ a whole race of people, that’s a lotta responsibility for one guy to have to carry.”

Zooz looks up from the flower and across at Abe. “But I think I get it. We got a lotta people at home dealin’ with stuff--addics, trauma, culture shock--and we got people to help ‘em with that. But that constant fussin’ over people don’t work. You gotta have room to breathe. I know that feelin’.”

At this point, the ground levels out, and they come to a clearing among the trees. A little brook flows over rocks up ahead; insects flit above the glittering water.

“Mind if we stop for a sec?” Zooz asks, making for one of the larger boulders by the side of the stream, which they clamber onto and take a seat. They tuck the flower into their feather tie and offer a paw out to help Abe up beside them. “Anyway, I don’t know how to get your folks to listen without knowin’ ‘em or what they’re like, but it doesn’t sound like you’re doin’ anythin’ wrong. They just worry ‘cause you’re important to ‘em. It can’t be easy, doin’ what you do.”

Zooz has been on the move for several days, now, heading east through the valleys towards the old rupture farms site and southwards over the foothills that eventually led to the dry expanse of Scrabania. Scrabania itself is a place they had yet to explore: despite Trill’s apparent affinity for the area, the heat and imminent danger from native wildlife is unnapealing, to say the least. Trill might be ready to dive over the edge of a cliff and make an escape at a moment’s notice, but the same could not be said for a mudokon.

The desert and scrub gradually becomes grassland and forest again, and Zooz coaxes Trill lower, looking for an ideal place to stop and take a break. Beneath them, sensing the shadow above, white specks scatter amongst the trees. Meep. And where there’s meep, there’s mudokons. No sign of a village, though, but eventually they spot it: one single cottage; still occupied, by the looks of it.

It takes a minute to find somewhere to land with enough clearance for Trill that won’t send the meep into a frenzy, but they find one eventually, and Zooz keeps a tight hold on his harness as they make their way up towards the cottage. The meep are keeping their distance, and Trill knows well enough not to attack livestock at random, but the last thing they want is an… accident. It’s happened, once or twice, with disastrous consequences.

( @ida-of-oddworld )

“Who are you?” A voice called out from the treeline. Upon looking around they would finally catch a bright pink plumage before they saw the mudokon attached to it. She was a deep earthy green, dressed in dark blacks, and her eyes lined with deep black kohl that made her blazing orange eyes stand out all the more. Her eyes were narrowed slightly and in her paws was a large pistol, clearly a sort right off a slig. It wasn’t trained on them, and her finger wasn’t on the trigger, gun safety kids but it was clear she was being cautious and would attack given a reason.

Zooz whips around to find the source of the voice, and when they do, they raise a hand in greeting.

“Hi!” they call out, taking note of but seemingly unbothered by the gun for now. They’ve had more hostile greetings. “Name’s Zooz. We were just passin’ through, an’ I was lookin’ for somewhere to take a break, an’, well, it’s always more interestin’ to stop off somewhere where there’s other people around. You live here?”

They remember the gun, at this point, and give it a second glance. “‘Course, if you’d rather not have visitors, we can make ourselves scarce. I was just curious, is all. Nice little place you got.”

Ida hummed and casually tucked her gun away after quickly putting the safety on and unloading it. “I do live here. But I don’t have much to offer someone passing through.” Ida motioned a bit away from her home – there was a well there. “Except for fresh well water. You can take a drink if you need one.”

“That’s fine. I’m not lookin’ for a five-course meal and a show or anythin’,” Zooz laughs. With Ida’s invitation, they start in the direction of the well, still leading Trill by the harness. “I’ll take you up on the water, though. Thanks. Oh, and, uh, don’t mind this big guy, here.” They give Trill a solid pat on one muscular shoulder. His appearance is often... offputting to strangers who don’t appreciate unfamiliar predators showing up on their doorstep. “I’m assumin’ the meep are yours, too? He won’t touch ‘em, I promise. He knows it’s rude to eat livestock. You can come say hi, if you like.”

Halfway now has a character page! Only a handful of residents will be open for actual roleplay but most will be available to answer questions about day-to-day livin’ in the village

#.modpost

Zooz has been on the move for several days, now, heading east through the valleys towards the old rupture farms site and southwards over the foothills that eventually led to the dry expanse of Scrabania. Scrabania itself is a place they had yet to explore: despite Trill’s apparent affinity for the area, the heat and imminent danger from native wildlife is unnapealing, to say the least. Trill might be ready to dive over the edge of a cliff and make an escape at a moment’s notice, but the same could not be said for a mudokon.

The desert and scrub gradually becomes grassland and forest again, and Zooz coaxes Trill lower, looking for an ideal place to stop and take a break. Beneath them, sensing the shadow above, white specks scatter amongst the trees. Meep. And where there’s meep, there’s mudokons. No sign of a village, though, but eventually they spot it: one single cottage; still occupied, by the looks of it.

It takes a minute to find somewhere to land with enough clearance for Trill that won’t send the meep into a frenzy, but they find one eventually, and Zooz keeps a tight hold on his harness as they make their way up towards the cottage. The meep are keeping their distance, and Trill knows well enough not to attack livestock at random, but the last thing they want is an… accident. It’s happened, once or twice, with disastrous consequences.

( @ida-of-oddworld )

“Who are you?” A voice called out from the treeline. Upon looking around they would finally catch a bright pink plumage before they saw the mudokon attached to it. She was a deep earthy green, dressed in dark blacks, and her eyes lined with deep black kohl that made her blazing orange eyes stand out all the more. Her eyes were narrowed slightly and in her paws was a large pistol, clearly a sort right off a slig. It wasn’t trained on them, and her finger wasn’t on the trigger, gun safety kids but it was clear she was being cautious and would attack given a reason.

#rp #zooz #HOOOOOO im getting to replies finally. sorry

Zooz whips around to find the source of the voice, and when they do, they raise a hand in greeting.

“Hi!” they call out, taking note of but seemingly unbothered by the gun for now. They’ve had more hostile greetings. “Name’s Zooz. We were just passin’ through, an’ I was lookin’ for somewhere to take a break, an’, well, it’s always more interestin’ to stop off somewhere where there’s other people around. You live here?”

They remember the gun, at this point, and give it a second glance. “‘Course, if you’d rather not have visitors, we can make ourselves scarce. I was just curious, is all. Nice little place you got.”

weirdlypersonalrpmemes

headcanon memes inspired by things i like, part 2. ⤿ inspired by my ocs

send in a symbol i’ll answer the corresponding question about my muse!

[ 🤪 ] what is your muse’s sense of humour like? are they known for being joking, or serious?

[ 🪁 ] does your muse have a special talent or hobby they devote themselves to? why is this talent or hobby important to them?

[ 🩰 ] is there a type of fashion your muse prefers, or do they not pay attention to their appearance at all?

[ 🍮 ] is your muse intelligent academically? do they have any other intelligences?

[ 🧀 ] is there something your muse can’t live down, no matter how hard they try? what is it? if not, is there something your muse has said or done that embarrasses them?

[ 🦋 ] does your muse have any unconventional interests? what are they?

[ 😈 ] does your muse like to prank others? do they do so often?

[ 👨‍🏫 ] how much does your muse care about image? how would they react if something personal got leaked about them?

[ 🔇 ] is your muse a pushover, or do they tend to stand up for themselves?

[ 🪀 ] what was your muse’s childhood like? how did their upbringing affect them?

[ 🐺 ] does your muse have trouble relying on others? why or why not?

[ 👶 ] is your muse good with kids, or do they prefer to avoid them?

[ 🍔 ] what is your muse’s favourite food? is there a reason why they like it so much?

[ 🏳️‍🌈 ] how does your muse’s sexuality and gender identity impact their life? do you have any specific headcanons about it?

[ ⚖️ ] how does your muse feel about their job? what’s their dream career?

[ 👻 ] does your muse have regrets? what are some of their deepest ones?

[ 👑 ] how conventionally attractive is your muse? are they confident in their appearance, or are they more insecure?

[ 📢 ] what does your muse’s voice sound like? is it high-pitched, or deep? is it nasal or set in their chest? describe it in as much detail as you can.

[ 🤸‍♂️ ] how flexible is your muse physically? can they perform acrobatics? are they good at yoga?

[ ⚽️ ] is your muse athletic? are there any sports they like playing?

[ 🌺 ] what is your muse’s relationship with their parents? are there specific things they like/dislike about them?

[ 👨‍🎤 ] would your muse define themselves as rebellious or by-the-book? what are they, actually?

[ ❄️ ] is there any special meaning behind your muse’s name? what is it?

[ 🎤 ] does your muse tend to date people who are supportive, or do they attract people who are more manipulative? why do you think that is?

[ 🧜‍♂️ ] is there anyone that isn’t part of your muse’s blood family that they consider family? what is their relationship with that person or those people like?

Zooz has been on the move for several days, now, heading east through the valleys towards the old rupture farms site and southwards over the foothills that eventually led to the dry expanse of Scrabania. Scrabania itself is a place they had yet to explore: despite Trill’s apparent affinity for the area, the heat and imminent danger from native wildlife is unnapealing, to say the least. Trill might be ready to dive over the edge of a cliff and make an escape at a moment’s notice, but the same could not be said for a mudokon.

The desert and scrub gradually becomes grassland and forest again, and Zooz coaxes Trill lower, looking for an ideal place to stop and take a break. Beneath them, sensing the shadow above, white specks scatter amongst the trees. Meep. And where there’s meep, there’s mudokons. No sign of a village, though, but eventually they spot it: one single cottage; still occupied, by the looks of it.

It takes a minute to find somewhere to land with enough clearance for Trill that won’t send the meep into a frenzy, but they find one eventually, and Zooz keeps a tight hold on his harness as they make their way up towards the cottage. The meep are keeping their distance, and Trill knows well enough not to attack livestock at random, but the last thing they want is an... accident. It’s happened, once or twice, with disastrous consequences.

( @ida-of-oddworld )