Never a Breath You Can Afford to Waste

[cryptoherpetology]

WHO: (Who is making the post)
WHERE: The Tubes, The Schoolhouse, Inn, various places around the village and beyond.
WHEN: Oct 21 - 30th
OPEN TO: Any and all, only 1 for the tube arrival, though.
WARNINGS: None yet though likely mild spoilers for the InCryptid novels.

---

One of the last things I remember is voice of my sister coming from the TV screen at the end of that last episode of her reality show. I hadn't actually been paying a whole lot of attention to her dancing, admittedly. Do you want to watch your sister shimmy and gyrate in a costume appearing to only be held together by dental floss and Swarovski crystals? Didn't think so. My eyes had been drifting to Shelby for most of the show.

Shelby hadn't even had the chance to meet Verity yet, but she'd been helping my colony of hyper-intelligent mice vote for her spot on the Dance or Die reunion show all the same.

My family is weird, and my fiancee is proof that sometimes, just sometimes, the universe throws you a break. A gorgeous, blonde break. One that, in my (ok, entirely biased) opinion justifies the existence of every single venomous and deadly thing in Australia, since Shelby is all the more deadly and glorious for her time stomping fearlessly and expertly through the Outback and underbrush.

What can I say? I'm in love. I can't pinpoint the moment I knew it, but I can tell you I spontaneously proposed after watching her wrestle a half-crazed cryptid the size of a large crocodile to the ground, and when she held me to it a year later, I was entirely happy to go along.

Watching her gleefully sending text after text on Grandma and Grandpa baker's supply of burner phones to vote for "Valerie Pryor" as Sarah (mostly) helpfully rattled off numbers and facts to make their voting strategy all the more effective.

It had been a moment of domestic bliss as far as I was concerned, listening to the people I love the most talk excitedly about Verity's Argentine tangos and hip hop numbers.

At least until things went sideways, with a snake cult once again making my sister's life- and by the looks of things- all of our lives even more complicated and dangerous than they already were. Shit. Why had they sent Grandma Alice alone, I should have flown out to LA, it was a snake cult. Why am I never the one the snake cults bother? I could have been helping, I could have been-

And then there was darkness.

Arrival, Bunker

Dr. Price, Alexander Jonathan. Vitals stable, chamber lock disengaged. Begin retrieval process: Y/N?

The man inside is unassuming, though the fact that he's unconscious probably helps. Clad in black scrubs with short, sandy blonde hair, with a large scar on one bicep that looks like the work of some sort of animal, with months of healing behind it.

The nearby box of supplies contains a pair of glasses along with the usual mix, and it isn't hard to imagine him in them. Even floating unconscious in a glass tube of water, he still has that look of this right here is one giant nerd.

Schoolhouse

Even if his desire was to disappear into the wilderness for a few days for intense, first-hand study of the local wildlife and the ecosystem supporting it, he's not so stupid as to go out into the field unprepared.

And the best way to be prepared is to know as much as you possibly can about where it is you're going. So for the first week of his time in the village, Dr. Price can usually be found here, making his way steadily through as much as what's written about the area as possible, while trying to beg sheets of paper and ink off anyone who might have any to share, or trying to figure out if there's any kind of memo app on the network watch.

Inn, sheriff's office, Various (location of your choice!)

Everyone has to eat, and a cryptozoologist is no exception. What other people don't have to do, and Alex seems to think he does, is ask questions over dinner. Or around the fountain. Or while visiting the hot springs.

Because as much as he's Not Great with people, collecting first-hand witness reports about things is often even more useful than simply reading about them.

Word spreads around pretty fast that the new guy is looking for stories about encounters with the local wildlife, and spending as much time as he can watching the livestock in and out of their jail cell pens, eager to speak with anyone working with them.

Comments

The Bunker

[ataashihunter]

Bull had been exploring down in the bunker. He doesn't like the place so he is jumpy as fuck, but he pauses when he sees someone in one of the tubes. He steps closer, looking carefully. A doctor hm? That would be useful. Besides what can happen when you just leave people in there? Bull has no idea.

"Of course." He mutters to himself as he presses yes. Then he stands ready to catch the guy and make sure he doesn't hit the floor.

[cryptoherpetology]

His body flops limply into the Qunari's very, very solid arms, and within a few moments, his lungs are forcibly ejecting the water- hopefully mostly on the floor- and gasping for breath.

His vision might be awful, but he can at least register that the person pulling him out of that mysterious, cold darkness is... very much not human. For most people, this might be alarming, or at least startling, but once Alex seems to register this fact, he actually relaxes a little.

This man, human or not, is not someone the Covenant of St. George would suffer to live for very long, never mind try to recruit.

Speaking is a little beyond him just yet, beyond a few fragmented words- "Sh-" he starts to say her name, but stops himself. If someone had taken only him, he could be putting her in danger. "Shit," he coughs out instead.

[ataashihunter]

It doesn't take long before Bull puts him on the floor, placing him in a position that is better for him coughing up water. "There you go, easy now." He places a hand on the other's back, stroking gently. "Easy easy, you're safe."

He looks around for the bag of clothes they all come with, hoping that this guy has some dry clothes in there. It might not be full on winter yet but it is cold enough if your clothes are all wet. "I'm going to get you into some dry clothes, alright?"

[cryptoherpetology]

"Yeah- OK" he says, finally filling his lungs with blessed, blessed air. "Where are we? Is it... is it the Covenant?"

He's assuming Bull is a cryptid. Not a cryptid whose species he recognizes, but that hardly means anything. Any non-human capable of conversing with him would know of the Covenant, and what danger they pose to anyone unlucky enough to be born not-human.

[ataashihunter]

Bull blinks back at him and shakes his head. "Never heard of them." He admits. Maybe it is another name for the chantry, or for Corypheus' guys. Or the Venetori, but none of them are here. At least as far as he is able to tell. "No this is a strange place. None of us are really sure where it is but we're a big group of people from all over trapped here."

He digs through the pack and pulls out nice and dry clothes, placing them next to Alex. "You good with changing or do you need help?"

Then after a moment. "I am the Iron Bull, by the way."

Inn Kitchen

[thegreatexperiment]

Rube Goldberg couldn't have designed a more convoluted system for distilling vodka than Sam had. There were tubes and jugs and pots and potatoes all over the kitchen, strewn like Halloween decorations, sending glittering bubbles of pure alcohol from one end of the room to another. She did her best to brew only during downtimes, when the kitchen wasn't the center of meal activity. But putting it up and taking it down each day was a fucking hassle.

Which was why she was still distilling at lunchtime that day.

As if to compensate for taking up so much space, Sam was sitting up on a countertop beside her mash mix, with all of her papers spread across her lap, instead of along the tables. She'd been right in the middle of sketching out some double helices when she realized what time it was. Now she had DNA all over her.

Metaphorically. On paper.

And she was just starting a new sketch, trying to model her own altered DNA in light of her arrival to the clown rodeo when she looked up and spied a new face.

Wonderful. Another underwear model.

[cryptoherpetology]

The still is easy enough to understand. Even if people didn't need to drink it, the ethanol would be useful for any number of other things. It's the sketchbook that catches his eye, though. He doesn't approach her too closely, knowing that looming over teenage girls is hardly the way to win new friends. But he still can't help but blurt out his first thought upon seeking the sketch.

"What would do that to human DNA?"

He can't help but blurt it out- he's no microbiologist, but he knows that that doesn't look right.

[thegreatexperiment]

Of all the things a newbie might have said to Sam, that was without a doubt the last she'd expected. And not just because most people had no fucking idea what a double helix was.

That he'd caught its abnormalities was a whole different level of surprise.

She stared at him for a second and couldn't help but blurt out, "Marry me."

To say that her people skills were rusty was...a slight understatement.

But she heard herself and cringed--although not too apologetic--and cleared her throat. "If you know the word 'vitae' with regard to it's relationship to hemoglobin, it's that. If you don't, we have some serious conversation to be had."

[cryptoherpetology]

"Already engaged. To a woman who carries brass knuckles in her bra," he says, flattered if somewhat sheepish.

"I know my latin well enough to know the word, but not in any sense beyond it's definition. Life. Though, since you're mentioning hemoglobin, I'm guessing this is blood-borne," he ponders aloud, and steps close enough to have a better look, standing beside her. "I have experience with a lycanthropy outbreak, but I've never had a chance to study it on a microbiological level. Is this a naturally occurring phenomenon, like a retrovirus, or has-" he frowns.

"Has someone done this on purpose?"

Oh, someone is up for a stern lecture from the ethics board, somewhere.

Hot springs

[fishermansweater]

While Alex is investigating the spring, an example of the local wildlife appears from the undergrowth, trotting cheerfully towards the water with the permanent grin of a crocodile. The hairless little canine heads for the pool, goes straight into the water and starts paddling, its legs cycling energetically.

"Coco!"

The dog is followed by a hurried-seeming young man dressed in red camouflage print pants and a henley, tall, well muscled, handsome enough to draw attention in a crowd, but Finnick's thoughts aren't on appearances right now: they're on looking for the dog, which is contentedly ignoring him for now.

He sees Alex before he sees the dog, and Finnick stops, gaze flicking up then down in a quick assessment of the man, who's unfamiliar and therefore must be new.

"Have you seen --" but he cuts himself off as the splashing sound from the pool draws his attention and he sees the dog.

"Guess you have. Don't mind him."

[cryptoherpetology]

At first, the little canine- at least, it acts canine, and appears mostly mamiliar. A synapsid maybe? he wonders, watching it splash around with both interest and amusement. It's distracting enough that he doesn't notice Finnick until he speaks up.

"Not at all. This is actually what I'm out here for-" he points to the dog, and then just to their surroundings in general. "I've never seen an ecosystem quite like this before, it's amazing. So is he- their temperament reminds me a bit of quokkas. No fear of humans whatsoever for something that size."

[fishermansweater]

There is, apparently, no taking the water out of the crocodile dog. The way the little animal splashes around is similar to a dog playing in the water near the docks -- very familiar to Finnick, not just because he's gotten used to Coco by now, but also because he'd spent so much time around the beach and the docks back in District Four.

"No fear at all, especially if you have fish," Finnick agrees. He comes a little closer, mostly so he can keep an eye on Coco to make sure the dog doesn't run off again, but the water seems to be diversion enough for now. "They don't seem to be used to having people around. When we all arrived it seemed like it had been a while since there were humans here."

Finnick shrugs, a what can you do sort of gesture that's accompanied by an easygoing sort of smile. He's grown oddly fond of the little dog, given that when Coco had first decided Finnick and Annie were his new friends, they hadn't known whether or not to trust him.

[cryptoherpetology]

"Sadly, I don't have any fish. I'm mostly curious to see if the animals here seem to benefit from the water the same way the guidebooks say humans do. Does he usually have more energy after a swim here?" He watches Coco splashing around, smiling to himself at how much it reminds him of Crow.

"More so than other water sources, I mean."

+1 book nerd at the schoolhouse.

[scathefires]

In the absence of crime to fight and heads to bust, Jason's been spending a lot of his time reading his way through the new library. He notices the new guy when he walks in but doesn't speak first - he's just here to trade out the book he borrowed last, a guide to using parasitic wasps as a form of pest control. In and out, no fuss, or so Jason plans.

New guy seems to have different plans, though. Jason regard the request for paper and ink with an arched eyebrow.

"Do I really look like a stationer?"

Sorry, Alex.

[cryptoherpetology]

"I try not to make assumptions, especially in unique situations like this, sir."

It's his there's an angry zoo visitor complaining that the snakes aren't moving enough, let's be as placating and polite as possible until they go away voice. Measured with just enough casual cheerfulness in it to not come across as sarcastic.

It's not that different from the impossibly patient voice of an overextended librarian, come to think of it.

"For all I know there's a booming underground moleskine network that I could eventually stumble on."

Okay, maybe the sarcasm came through a little more there.

[scathefires]

"Sir?" OK, now Jason's eyebrows are arched high up into his hair. Nobody calls him sir - at least not when he's not wearing the Red Hood and acting like an absolute menace. Or they're Alfred.

"You get dropped out of butler school or somethin'?"

[cryptoherpetology]

"No, I'm just the guy you get when you ask to speak to someone's manager at the zoo," Alex informs him. "People who say their kids were traumatized by the crocodile feeding, people offended by the mention of the evolution in the educational material- the amount of outrage I'm capable of stomaching with a pleasant face is probably just short of a super-power."

His tone is wry, but still conversational.

School House

[minus1twin]

The Norwegian Elkhound stepped happily at Wanda's side as she looked through the rows of 'How Tos' at the school house. Wanda hadn't needed it before but with Clint and Nat's disappearance she has a house of a lot of animals and was struggling to feed them all. The problem stemmed from the fact that she had no idea what they could eat but she was going to try and figure it out now.

How to raise chickens…

How to know if your cat is sick…

How to train your dog…

The small stack of books grew and Wanda was in the middle of another row of books when Arado let out a soft whine. Her head rose and her eyes landed on the young doctor. "Hello." Her accent was thick and her voice pleasant. "Are you looking for something?" Wanda didn't recognize him but she didn't know everyone in the village either.

[cryptoherpetology]

The man looks up, smiling at first to Wanda, then the dog. "I probably should be avoiding looking for anything more at this point," he says, gesturing to his own growing piles- neatly arranged by category, with their order top-to-bottom matching the order he'd found them in on the shelves.

They were mostly books on the native plants and animals- but also several on paper making and bookbinding. He never thought he'd miss something so simple as composition notebooks so much.

"Sick cat?" he asks, with both concern and curiosity. "Sorry- it caught my eye. I'm not a vet, my doctorate specializes more in-" he stops himself. "Right, sorry. Alex Price. I'm new."

[minus1twin]

Light green eyes briefly inspected the impressive stack of books. Wanda smiled. "That's probably a good idea. No one else will be able to learn anything if you take all the books." Her voice was light, warm and teasing. Wanda hated this world but she never let the stress and pain of it show on her features. The people she wanted to vent her anger on had no face and no way of being reached.

"Not exactly. I don't know a lot about cats and I now have one." She exhaled a tired breath. "Hello Alex, I'm Wanda Maximoff." She rose to her feet and held out a hand to him. "It's nice to meet you."

She realized that she should probably keep up with the people arriving in the village, even when she's ridiculously busy. "A few people I was living with vanished and I now have a lot of animals to take care of. I had been feeding them but I don't really know about them." She nodded to the large happy dog. "Arado I know because I helped raise and train him but there are too many."

[cryptoherpetology]

"A pleasure. And maybe I can help you with the animals- I'm still familiarizing myself with some of the more... unique species here, but I have some experience with unusual animals," he offers. "And I'm used to taking care of something of a very high-maintenance cat."

Crow would probably object to being called a mere cat, given that really only covers about half of what he is. His church griffin is what you might get if a raven and a Maine Coon cat loved each other enough to defy the laws of nature as we know it.

[oorah]

Frank doesn't have his usual gaggle of dogs with him, just the one. Well, two if you count the croc-dog tucked under his arm fast asleep. The other is a shy, but friendly gray pitbull who never strays far from his side. They're making their way past the schoolhouse when Alex comes out, and he realizes instantly he hasn't seen him before. He's great with faces, he never forgets one, in fact. "You won't find a book about this place in there," he says suddenly in that gruff way of his. He's wearing a teal communicator and bright teal sneakers, the rest of his outfit subdued and his hair and beard hopelessly unkempt. Almost like he's been here for too damn long and might know a thing or two about what he's saying. "But if you see one about solar power let me know." That would give him a project for at least the next millennia, he really needs something like that to keep him going.

[cryptoherpetology]

"Maybe not, but there are guides to more familiar plants and animals that can help me get a larger picture of the ecosystem as a whole. If I figure out what niche they've settled in to- the nutrients in this one species of lichen, for inst-" he realizes he's starting to drone, so he stops himself before he goes into thesis defense mode. Especially since his thesis defenses always went terribly.

"Right, sorry- solar power you said? I think I saw some engineering guides over there," he says, taking off his glasses, wiping them on his shirt- one of the plain t-shirts, accompanied by black scrubs and hiking boots, with only the beginnings of some rough stubble to mark his time spent here so far. "But machinery isn't really my strong point."

The squishy side of science his sisters had always teased him.

[oorah]

He follows it better than Alex might think, and doesn't find it nearly as dull. But characteristically: he says nothing, allowing the other man to keep his initial presumptions about him. "I've done installation before. Just not fabrication." He can always come back for the books, after he asks Tony about all that. It was always easier for him to learn by doing than from a book. Frank ducks his head to see if Bruno the croc-dog is still snoozing while Aloe gains the courage to approach Alex though he stops just short of arms-reach. "I haven't seen you here." Until now, obviously, and he's quite good with faces.

[cryptoherpetology]

Alex doesn't reach for the nervous dog, just simply lets his hand rest within sniffing distance without making any sudden movements. He's come a long way from the little boy who once tried to hug a manticore because it looked like a cross between a puppy and a scorpion.

"It's only been a few days," he confirms. "Hitting the books seemed like a more productive coping mechanism than the free moonshine," he jokes at his own expense, nodding to his neatly arranged piles of books, and the notes he's already filled what little paper he has with.

There are some small sketches of some of the native animals, drawn with more of an eye for anatomy than aesthetic. The notes are in a neat, small hand obviously trying to fit as much as possible onto the pages. Some of the pages are smudged and a bit stained, hinting at them being made in the field, rather than the schoolhouse.