lifeaftr | Long, Long Ago....

After the groups had split up, Newt had started to wander through the ruins accompanied by two large burly men and some children. He's been keeping a pretty close eye open and his butterfly knife in his hand, but he won't deny that having even just Wade there relaxes him a bit. He definitely is expecting to run into something nasty at best and something life threatening at worst, so when they come to a room with a bunch of tents and a large dog(?????) in the middle of them, Newt can't do much but stare at first...especially after the dog speaks.

After a moment, though, he seems to find his voice and clears his throat.

"We, uh...didn't know there was a time limit."...wait a minute, hold on. Yep, those sure are Newt's hands going to his hips and an eyebrow arching. "And, like, we kinda just got here, dude."

A talking dog isn't really a strange thing for a small boss monster, considering the Royal Guard is entirely made up of them. The fact that said dog seems a little annoyed with them? That's a little weirder.

Asriel peeks out from behind the taller adults in the group.

"You were expecting us?"

"The imposing ruins rising above the jungle trees didn't give you a thrill of excitement in your bones? The urge to explore- to find an adventure... dear me," The dog tsks- as well as a dog can. "You're not exceptionally story inclined at all..."

A soft chuff, as it turns it's gaze to Asriel next.

"It is my island. Would you not notice of a dozen rafts arriving on your island? I am not blind, nor death. And you are all very loud."

First a talking skeleton now a talking dog... A talking dog.

Nyx was going to need a drink or something after all this. He gives a small frown, glancing down when he hears Asriel's question before the dog for its answers. That only makes him raise an eyebrow, arms crossing over his chest. "Your island. If that's the case do you want to explain just why we're all here in the first place? It's not as though any of us particularly wanted to wake up on a raft and wind up here."

Wade's gonna have to go with Asriel on this one. A talking dog-- however sarcastic and unhelpful it may be-- ranks pretty low on his list of Weird Shit He's Had To Deal With. Wade saunters up just as easy as you please, his red and black spandex no doubt clashing horribly with the verdant environment surrounding them, and shoots a wry eye towards Nyx.

"Uhhh maybe speak for yourself there, Prince Humperdink. I can think of like... ten situations worse than wakin' up on a raft near a tropical island. At the very least it helped me work on my tan, know what I'm sayin'? Coulda done without bein' stuck with Tweedledee and Tweedle-dipshit, though."

It's just then that something the dog said grabs Wade's attention, and he suddenly inclines his head curiously towards the canine.

"Wait-- did you just say we're not 'exceptionally story-inclined'? The hell does that even mean?"

Because he swears to god if they're stuck in some stupid Choose Your Own Adventure book he is heading for the bad ending so fucking fast...

The moment this dog starts talking about "my island," Newt's previously curious expression snaps into wary and guarded (if not almost openly hostile,) arms folding over his chest, eyes narrowing behind his glasses. He might've opened his mouth to speak, but the guard guy and Wade are getting there first, which is probably a good thing, as what might've followed from Newt himself might not've been so...nice. But still, as Wade strides up with deceptive calm, Newt can't really deny how much of a relief it is to have him closer rather than further away, and it loosens his sudden stiffness slightly. He glances at Wade out of the corner of his eye, arching an eyebrow as the corner of his mouth quirks up slightly.

"Only ten?" It's drawled a little and tinged with knowing sarcasm. But yeah, he's gonna get in on this questioning business. His expression drops the friendliness it'd gained from Wade's interjection, hovering just before the precipice into hostile, and directs his next statement to the dog-creature in front of them.

"Yeah, I'd like to know that shit, too. And also who it is that brought us here--whether that's you or otherwise."

Can dogs look offended? No?

This one does. It puts on its best doggy scowl, growling lowly. There's no other indications of hackles raising, no bared teeth- just those dark, very dark, impossibly dark eyes trailing from movement to movement, voice to voice.

"Tweedledee and Tweedle-dipshit. Oh, I like that. I do very much..." It trails off after a moment, mumbling to itself. Standing on all fours, as dogs do, it noses at the nearest tent, head disappearing inside. After a moment, a book- or perhaps a tomb, large and incredibly thick, thumps onto the ground, seemingly opening to a random page as the dog peers down at it.

Nothing else seems to happen, after that.

"Only ten. Scavenged from across the island, but are you beggars, or are you choosers? I can bury them; always wanted to try that." Yes. They, also, could be a good dog. Just not at this moment. This moment; these questions, require the utmost seriousness. "As for why you're here...."

"Do I look like a fortune-teller? Did you arrive on my island, or on a raft? Why stick yourself on a raft and demand answers from other, intelligent living creatures? Is it the tents? It's always the tents."

Newt had stiffened a bit at the dog's growl, but as it continues, his mouth twists down into a scowl. By the time it's done, Newt's expression has finally moved into open hostility.

"Well actually, it's more that you started with 'I expected you sooner' or whatever and then paired it about two seconds ago with 'it's always the tents,' which tells us that we're not the first group and this isn't the first time. Also, you absolutely did not answer a single question we asked and instead decided to try and dodge all of them by making yourself look like the victim here and that we are inconveniencing you by being here, as though this is something you haven't experienced or dealt with before and weren't expecting, which you clearly have, so you clearly already know that we didn't chose to show up here. And not just because he--" Newt motions to Nyx with a jerk of his head. "--already said that we just woke up here."

Newt's eyes narrow further. "So. You wanna cut the bullshit now and tell us either why you brought us here or, if it wasn't you, who did? Because I've dealt with the run around from things like you before, and I have absolutely zero patience left for it."

The dog is unimpressed with your show of male testosterone, Newt. It stares at him quietly for a moment

And then ice cold water pours down on him from above.

"Feeling better? Can we move on, now? If you are so intent on twisting every piece of narrative to your own suspicious agenda, of course it's not going to sound right."

A slow, wag of their tail. Any interjections? Or have we all cooled off a bit?

There's a moment of tension as the dog stares at him, silent, and Newt can feel his spine stiffen further, something in him tensing, fingers starting to reach for the knife in his jacket pocket, just in case---

--except, then he's completely doused with ice water. Newt can't help but shriek, loudly, both from the sudden shock and the temperature of the water, and jumps about half a foot in the air. Unfortunately, this also means he takes a mouthful of water as it's dumped on him, sending him into a bit of a coughing fit, as his mind catches up on the fact that he just had a whole bunch of water dumped on him from literally nowhere. Newt glances up above his head as he coughs and...yep, no bucket. No waterfall. Nothing.

He turns a glare on the dog in front of them, teeth grit into something like a snarl. Well, as much of a snarl as he can manage while he's still coughing. "Considering the circumstances--" hold on, pause for coughing. "--It's no surprise that I'm suspicious!" It's snapped, but it's very hard to take this soaking wet nerd seriously now that his hair is plastered to his face. He starts to wring out the edges of his shirt, still scowling darkly, now muttering: "Still haven't answered any questions, either--"

Why is Wade the one who has to be the voice of reason here? Isn't this supposed to be anyone else's job? The powers that be certainly have a sense of humor. Regardless, Wade attempts to stop Newt's tirade before it picks up steam by placing a hand on the back of his (wet) neck, squeezing slightly in an attempt to ground him.

"Whoa there, babycakes. Slow your roll. Gonna get a nasty kink in yer spine if you keep this up. In my experience gods have always been infuriatingly obtuse, y'know? And honestly... you probably coulda done with a cold shower right about now."

Seeing a man shriek after being doused with ice water nearly causes Asriel to jump out of his fur - but after a few seconds, it seems that Newt isn't seriously harmed. Just very wet and angry. Seeing him flail a bit is... kind of funny. A little. He tries not to show it.

Whoever this dog was, they don't seem to be in be in a mood to play around.

"Who was using these tents, if you don't mind us asking? Did something happen to them?"

Asriel tries to be polite, but braces himself just in case he gets the cold water treatment too.

"See? Look at this one. He has manners." The dog says approvingly- and if Asriel doesn't mind, he'll be trotting over to give him a brief sniff.

"Adventurers, much like yourselves- people who came and left this island as they pleased. Much like you can. When people come from the ocean, they can return to the ocean, if my home is already so boorish..."

Clementine has been keeping quiet in their conversation so far, peeping out from behind Wade curiously with her gun held tightly (just in case, but also a little raised in the short seconds between Newt yelling and getting covered in icy water).

Now, a little more relaxed, she pipes up, "We're sorry if some of us seem kind of mad, it's just 'cause we're confused. This is all really new." And to be fair to Newt, this dog did seem to be kind of weirdly avoidant... not that she's gonna say that though. The cold water didn't look fun.

"Do you know where this island is?" she asks. "I think we're all from really different places..." That's definitely what it's seemed like anyway, to say the least.

Honestly, it's a good thing Wade stepped in when he did, as otherwise this entire conversation might've gone a lot differently. As is, the squeeze at his neck grounds and centers, and takes his snarl down to a scowl. He does elbow at Wade anyway for that cold shower comment though, and narrows his eyes at that dog as it wanders over towards Asriel.

"I'm not sorry." It's muttered, as Newt starts to wring out his shirt--but he's glancing sharply at that dog, trying to parse it for any sort of reaction to Clem's question...not that he's ever been good at reading facial expressions on humans, muchless dogs.

Good boy, Newt. Let your elders take care of this situation.

Like Clementine, for example.

"Understandable, yes. I believe I'm beginning to see..." Hm. The pages of the tome flutter; a rustle of hands not there. "Yes. Yes, I see."

With a curious tilt of it's head, the dog examines them all in turn. It is, however, a dog- there's nothing to parse from it's expression, body language mostly the same as when they entered.

"This place is given many names by those who live here; some that make sense, some that do not. The simplest translation for this archipelago is 'LifeAftr'- in fact, that may very well be the best name for this world, as well."

There's a good boy. Newt, not the dog.

Wade feels the muscles in the man's neck relax under his touch, and once he gets a sense that Newt's not gonna fly off the handle again, he moves his hand to his shoulder. The scars around Newt's mouth may have faded, but that doesn't mean Wade's forgotten speaking to him in Morse Code when he sassed at the wrong people and wound up missing his lower jaw. You don't really forget something like that.

Wade finds his attention diverted from that oh-so-pleasant memory by the dog's words, and he crosses his arms over his chest, looking at the animal-god-whatever with a skeptical eye.

"LifeAftr, huh? That supposed to be some kind of a pun? Like... are we actually in an afterlife or what, here? 'Cause I'm not seein' Bea Arthur sunbathing in a two piece anywhere."

Rude.

The dog cocks it's head to the side, as if Wade's question is seemingly incomprehensible.

"I did say one of many names, didn't I? Do you feel as if this place is the afterlife? Some kind of limbo in which your dearly departed selves should be judged?" A huff. "Does your culture often ruminate such callous ends for children?"

"Sometimes they do."

It's said, a little bitterly, under Asriel's breath. He's unfortunately seen - and experienced - quite a lot of child death. He was poisoned before he came here. It'd make a lot more sense if this was some kind of aterlife...

Though it's a bit more peaceful than what he imagined.

"And sometimes they do not." The dog responds, somewhat impatiently. "My word, you are a very pessimistic bunch. Perhaps we should try this discussion at a later date."

An unsatisfied chuff; it doesn't look too pleased with this conclusion.

"At the least, you can use these tents as you will."

Long, Long Ago....

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