There is a clearing up ahead. In the midst of the clearing, a building of wood and stone, architecture quite unlike anything he's seen in these woods before. Above the door, a swinging sign, bearing a single word, a name, in the latin alphabet:

Milliways

Now what is an English tavern doing in the forests of the New World? Cautious, Druig reaches out-

-and finds no mind he can perceive.

An empty English tavern? Or a place of some strange power, shielded from his senses?

Sersi and Ajak would advise caution. One of those voices he has spent the past decades listening to, off and on, trying to discern what she would do for his people were she here. The other he has been viciously ignoring.

Makkari would advise... adventure.

Cautious, but unable to resist his curiosity, Druig pushes open the door.

Inside... is not what he would have expected, had he been expecting anything at all. A tavern, yes. Tables and booths aplenty, a long bar-top along one wall, blazing fireplaces opposite the door, surrounded by comfortable furniture.

This is where the familiarity ends, however.

It is snowing inside. Druig hasn't seen snow in nearly a century, but here it is, falling gently from the ceiling to vanish as it reaches a surface, or gather at the edges of the room, unmelting despite the temperature inside. Speaking of, it's actually cooler in 'Milliways' than it was in the forest he'd come from - even just inside the door, where the heat outside should be encroaching.

Icicles hang from the ceiling in places, he notes, his gaze panning over the white surface. From the bar-top, as well, and places on the furniture, too. Plantlife of some kind festoons the walls, the tables and chairs and the sides of the bar, holly and mistletoe and others he hasn't seen in decades, or at all.

It looks like a winter festival inside this room. He doesn't quite know what to make of it, standing stock-still in the doorway for several moments as he takes it in.

There's a young woman sat at one the tables nearby, poking curiously at her full plate of food. She's never seen any of this type of food before. She did order it though, and the talking Bar told her it was safe to eat...

She's not quite sure she should trust an obviously talking magical ?object?person? Especially without knowing how it was created. But also- the star scape outside the window is a very convincing argument! But also it could be a very elaborate magical construct - she learned about Chambre de Chasses when she was in school; magical locations created in the astral plane. Usually they're used to trap someone in their own mind.

But also August has been trapped into her very own prison world for the last four decades, which is absolutely a better prison than anything anyone else can create on the astral plane. So this whole... Bar At The End Of The Universe thing....

August is so confused.

-ah, now he can sense a mind. Druig focuses on the human poking at her food across the room, allowing the door to swing closed behind him as he steps further inside.

August startles and stands up. She's very not used to people just.... existing. In theory there are two other people in her prison world, two other prisoners, but she hasn't seen either of them in decades. The Earth is very very big, especially with only three people on it.

She stares at the newcomer, unsure what... she doesn't have any magic. Hasn't siphoned anything in eight years. She can't defend herself.

He stops across the table from her, taking in her reaction.

"...I'm not going to attack you," he starts off with. "Is this... Place, yours?"

- August shakes her head, only relaxing a tiny bit. She's not used to talking with people. Especially strangers.

"I was stuck in a snow storm. It appeared where it was not before."

"That's interesting. Snow doesn't have much place in the forest I came from. Neither does a place like this. Not many taverns in the deep woods of the New World."

"I was traveling through Canada. Northwest." She considers his words. "There are only two other people on my Earth. So finding a tavern that was obviously occupied - with the lights and the fireplace, even if there were no visible people..."

On her Earth?

"Only two other people? What happened to the rest of them?"

"Nothing. It was created with magic by a coven of witches to imprison us. Everyone still exists on the other Earth, presumably, though it has been forty years. We don't age and every time we die, we revert to how we were when the sun rises again the next day."

He leans forward, setting his hands on the back of the chair in front of him to stabilize himself. That seems like... An exceptionally over-powered, yet not entirely inhumane way to deal with criminals. However, knowing humans, if these witches are in fact that...

"Now what did you do to get a sentence like that?"

She is being entirely too forthcoming with a complete stranger, and yet... this is the most she's spoken aloud to anyone in so long.

"We killed a group of teenagers. We'd snuck out of our magical school to spend time with them, but it had been a ruse to bully us. One of us lost control of herself and in the chaos the humans were killed."

Ah.

Not human, then, or simply humans with magic who think much of themselves? Not that this is the important question, here. 

"And so they've trapped you alone in an otherwise empty world, infinitely looping... Until you gain better control of yourself?" He's being too optimistic, of course.

"They didn't say."

"Hm. What kind of magic exactly did she lose control of?"

"She's a werewolf."

"...huh! Haven't seen those. I've heard stories, but never came across them." He leans over the back of the chair, "So your friend lost control, and you and your other friend..."

There isn't really a reason not to tell him everything. Even if she's not immortal here... wherever here is.

"Noah is a vampire. Nerissa the werewolf. Noah lost control once Nerissa drew blood and went into frenzy. I attempted to siphon away his energy, enough so that he was weak. But I grabbed one of the humans instead. It killed them."

Siphon, alright.

"So it was a mistake." He pulls the chair out, casual, stepping around to sit down, "Not even a control issue. And you've spent the last forty years trapped alone in a simulation for unintentionally killing someone?"