It isn't late at night, but it is late in the year, and the sun went about its business quickly ere it departed.
Jacqueline Somer walks beside a busy road, with her back to oncoming traffic, which she's read you aren't supposed to do but it makes the stupid LED headlights somewhat less unbearable.
She flinches every time a car passes her.
Cars are loud, and she has enhanced hearing.
She'd be much happier, she thinks, in a world without automobiles.
She must have misjudged the distance to the horizon, or this is an immersive mindscape, or something like that.
...Yeah, this is an immersive mindscape.
Joy.
She'll stoop down to pick up a rock... and stop short.
Isn't the dirt on Mars supposed to cut up your lungs if you breathe it?
Who knows if the sediment here is made of something safe to touch or inhale. There are many elements on the Periodic Table, and each of them worse than the last.
If this is all in her head, or - someone's pocket dimension, or something like that - probably she isn't at risk?
Well, no reason not to play it as-safe-as-she-can-considering-the-circumstances.
She'll pull her shirt up over her mouth and nose.
It continues to grow colder, right now it is somewhere around 60 degrees Fahrenheit. Estimating a 1-2 degree drop since she arrived. This is not a sustainable rate for survival. The wagons stop approaching and begin to pull into a giant circle some half mile behind her.
A lone figure is moving toward Owl from the wagons at an alarming rate.
So we're losing maybe a degree Fahrenheit per minute? In an hour, she jokes to herself, it'll be 0, and in two hours 60 below.
She's actually pretty cheerful about the temperature, since it's warmer than where she came from, minus the short stint in flowerland.
On top of everything else, she could be cold.
She's less thrilled about whoever's rushing towards her.
Can you quantify "an alarming rate"?
Her battery is empty and is barely charging in the dying light.
45ish mphs is indeed alarming.
She'll scoop up a rock from the ground, brushing it with the back of her thumb first to see if that's bad for her skin.
Any moisture on her hand absorbs into the incredibly dry piece of stone, other than that it seems a perfectly normal rock. The figure is now close enough to make out details.
She'll make out the details, then.
If they're weird enough she'll use a bit of charge and x-ray the person.
They are mounted on top of what looks like a deer. A deer with white fur. A deer with white fur and floral outgrowths on its body. They themselves appear male, somewhat scrawny, and wearing some type of uniform.
The uniform consists of tanned boots, trousers, and shirt. Around their lower face is some sort of a bandana. Over their eyes are a pair of extremely primitive looking glasses. They wear a cloak that is billowing behind them, the cloak is double sided, one side some reflective material and the other a dark black. They appear human.
The bandana validates her life choices and also makes her afraid.
Do they look human on the inside, too? And what does the quadrupedal alien look like to x-ray vision?
The human in fact looks human on the inside! The deer has all of the normal organs you'd find in a living creature. Owl notices that the floral outgrowths actually extend down into the monster, existing as roots throughout the entire body.
As the rider gets closer they sit up straighter and nudge the deer, it begins slowing down. On pace to stop right before collision.
If they're slowing down Owl isn't going to throw anything at them.
Without dropping her new rock collection, she'll put her hands up to show she's not a threat (or block anything that comes for her face).
And walk backwards, prepared to exit to the right side if the deer continues forward.
The rider looks down at you. In a slightly muffled voice he says:
"I'm a scout from Ignara, who are you and what are you doing out here alone?"
Cool, she's being shouted at by an alien Mountie.
She's going to have to talk to him. Owl hates talking to people.
"Where'd you learn English?"
"My name is - " Jacqueline Somer isn't particularly fond of her name. If she's on an alien planet - or immersive dreamscape - where no one knows her, couldn't she introduce herself as anything she likes?
Some people call her Owl, but she doesn't particularly like that name either. She'll stick with Jacqueline, so that she doesn't get caught in an embarrassing lie later.
"- Jacqueline Somer."
"Jacqueline eh? What are you doing out here with the sun setting and all?"
"How'd you go and do a fool thing like that? Its not like you cant see the sun. What tribe are you from? How did you get here? You're not wearing any clothes I recognize from the last confluence, is there a new style going around?"
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