Laurence wanders upon a member of his crew in
the forest.
⚠
Likely none, will update if necessary
Laurence didn’t generally respond to new arrival notices on his own. Sometimes, the things that came through could hardly be considered new arrivals; other times, the new arrivals reacted poorly to finding themselves transported to another, unfamiliar world, and could lash out at the people who first discovered them. It was, generally, better to make sure you had a partner with you while you responded to the calls.
But the ping had come near enough to his location, and the mushrooms that were roaming the forest were dangerous that he didn't wish to leave anyone unsuspecting alone for long enough to call for backup, and so it was with all haste that he made his way to the arrival site on his own, pistol drawn and ready.
He saw a bit of familiar green, from the corner of his eye, but didn't let himself focus on it for longer than it took him to spot the mushroom, poised to attack, and he didn't hesitate to pull the trigger, encasing the mushroom in a block of ice: he found that Brigitte's ice and fire bullets did the trick nicely with the fungi.
And then he turned to the newcomer, and hesitated. He’d been in Vallo for over a year, and while he knew there’d once been another version of himself and Temeraire here, before they’d arrived, he’d long since stopped expecting to see anyone from home, and a green jacket was hardly cause to get his hopes up.
But the newcomer turned, a little, her profile becoming clear and there was no mistake: it was Emily Roland. He lowered his pistol.
“Mr. Roland,” he called to her, warmly. He was, perhaps, different than she might have recalled, in countenance and dress – he’d had few stresses, either of war or of duty, in the last sixteen months, had become a little more open in his bearing as he adjusted to the new customs of this world, and his suit was cut in the more modern style of Vallo, even if he still wore a neckcloth. “Are you well?”