[hr][hr][center][h1][b][i][color=a0522d]Gilbert Summers[/color][/i][/b][/h1][img]https://img.roleplayerguild.com/prod/users/2d5702c8-fbbe-4a46-a9f6-87334c420d5b.jpg[/img][hr][b][color=sienna]Location:[/color][/b] Ville au Camp (Backyard Area -> Swamp) 
[b][color=a0522d]Skills:[/color][/b] N/A [hr][/center]

	It was uncommon for an Emendator to walk into a situation with absolutely zero knowledge of what was going on. But if only for today, that seemed to be the norm. In its own way, it was actually quite humbling. To possess abilities far beyond that of common humanity, knowledge beyond the most well appointed libraries on the planet, and yet again Gilbert had no clue what was going on beyond what he could see. So maybe that was the best course of action; getting out there and looking for one's self. His eyes were just as serviceable as any healthy man's of his apparent age. Laying them on the source of the disturbance was likely the only way he was going to figure out a damned thing. 

	Joined by others, specifically Bart and Faith, Gilbert tarried just long enough to field their concerns, such as he was able. [color=a0522d]"You have just as much knowledge about this as I, Bartholomew. I would suggest caution. And with my apologies, Faith, let us get more insight before we depart. I do not know what might happen if we are on the other side an open portal that leads back here when the Loop breaks. It is unprecedented."[/color] Though his voice was of calm control, he really had no concrete answers for them. 

	Continuing forward, Gilbert felt his muscles tighten with apprehension of what might be waiting for them. Perhaps this was an partial degradation of the Loop and he would find a ragged hole of temporal nothingness that was growing slowly, their reality pouring into it as it was destroyed by the entropic nature of the nothingness that awaited a metaphysical concept such as their repeating period of time and space. Maybe it was the forced infiltration of something hostile, the concussive waves being the result of the sudden presence displacing their reality. 

	Of course, he was wrong. It [i]had[/i] happened before. Now at the Swamp proper, Gilbert looked to Siduri. She had done something that was expressly mentioned was not supposed to be possible, at least by the younger man, Ben's, abilities. Though by the context of the discussion, he was led to believe that it was a serious no-no anyway. Humility wasn't his strong point, though he had to admit that this was new territory for him, of which he was fully uneducated. He did recognize the object of the formerly forbidden application. It made sense. After all, this was where he was buried. 

	[color=a0522d]"Good evening, Peter. You are looking well, all things considered."[/color] 




[hr][hr][center][h1][b][i][color=cd5c5c]James Grady[/color][/i][/b][/h1][img]https://img.roleplayerguild.com/prod/users/110f59a7-f09e-40d4-b96a-9754fb285add.jpg[/img][hr][b][color=indianred]Location:[/color][/b] Ville au Camp (Backyard Area -> Swamp)
[b][color=cd5c5c]Skills:[/color][/b] N/A [hr][/center]

	James took another long swig from the bottle of tequila. He couldn't help but remember the first time that Evelina saw he and the other Paradoxes drinking, saying that she would [u]Not[/u] [u]Tolerate[/u] [u]Drunkenness[/u]. It was a fair enough concern to raise. And true to form, James had consumed less alcohol here, as a Paradox, than he ever did in his timeline of origin. And back there, it looked like everyone and everything was trying to kill you. Well, except for the guys you were drinking with. For James anyway; he had a pretty damn good group of apocalypse buddies. He was lucky that way. But that was literally another lifetime ago. Also, in his defense, he was toasting a fallen member of his old group, kinda. Same Alicia, different timeline. These things got confusing sometimes. Or all the time. Yeah, all the time. 

	The backwoods Wereboar gave a friendly nod over in the direction of Bart and Faith, offering a casual, [color=cd5c5c]"Sup,"[/color] though his senses were on his personal equivalent of high alert, what with the localized quake and proclivity of the people here to vanish in a flash of light. Oh, and the news of imminent doom sloshing toward them like an overflowing crapper in a bus station bathroom - that was just one more layer of fun. As a tangent of thought, James wondered if Paradoxes could get stress ulcers. He'd have to ask someone later on, if in fact there was a proper "later on" to have. 

	When he finally got over to their destination and saw what the others saw, James was a little taken aback. [color=cd5c5c]"He the dead'un, ain't he? That's the dead'un. You the dead'un, right? He dead. Like, [i]dead[/i] dead? Dead. Dead?"[/color] he stumbled verbally, eyes wide as he tried to process the length and breadth of what was transpiring. James had caught a glimpse of the guy as he was brought in from an assignment elsewhere, quite deceased. They had a small ceremony and everything, but here he was, plain as day, with loose soil still dusting off of him. Remembering something that passed for manners, James looked to the recently living-impaired individual with a more cordial, [color=cd5c5c]"You awful spry for a dead fella. Tequila?"[/color] He offered the bottle in his hand over. James figured that Alicia wouldn't mind, given the unusual circumstances. Besides, if James was pulled out of the ground a couple of minutes ago, he definitely would have wanted that drink.