methuselah (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
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singillppl2023-08-10 12:13 am
singmod) wrote in singillppl2023-08-10 12:13 am
Entry tags:
August 2023 Test Drive Meme
AUGUST 2023 TDM
PROMPT ONE — ARRIVAL: METHUSELAH'S FEAST: A group of newcomers find themselves lost in the frozen wilds and vulnerable to the dangers of nature. With luck, they make it to the town of Milton, and to a friendly face offering food, warmth and shelter.
PROMPT TWO — HOPE NOBODY NEEDS THIS ANYMORE: Once recovered from their journey, newcomers are free to explore the town of Milton for supplies and find any signs of the townsfolk.
PROMPT THREE — THE SIREN OF MILTON BASIN: A mysterious woman haunts the frozen lake of the Milton Basin, trying to lure newcomers to their deaths.
ARRIVAL: METHUSELAH'S FEAST
WHEN: Day One.
WHERE: Milton, Milton Outskirts.
CONTENT WARNINGS: potential animal attacks, potential injuries, potential cold injuries/hyperthermia risk.
’You are the Interloper. You are not part of nature’s design.’
It’s the last thing you hear. A dark, deep voice. Impossibly ancient. You feel afraid. Maybe you’re dreaming, maybe you’re wide awake. You saw the lights, and then your world went dark. But you hear it in the blackness, you won’t forget those words.
You awaken. You are not where you were before. It’s different for everyone, there doesn’t seem to be much of a pattern in where you find yourself. You may open your eyes to find yourself in a cold, dim and dank cabin. The air is stale, dust hangs in the rays of weak sunlight that shine through the tiny windows. Someone lived here once, but they aren’t to be found. You look around, it seems like no one has been here in several days, maybe longer. The fire is cold, the dishes in the sink are a little mouldy. It is quiet. The wood creaks around you. Or perhaps you may awaken to find yourself shivering in the yawning maw of a cave, the freezing stone below you. Or maybe you’re unfortunate enough to sit up to find yourself lying in the snow, in the middle of the wilderness. Snow lies thick around you. It’s freezing out. You haven’t felt a cold like this before in your entire life. Cruel and biting. You have no idea where you are, and what’s worse — you are completely alone.
You may feel different, too. Any powers or magics you may have feel... absent. Disconnected. Things that may not have affected you previously now do. Something in you has changed.
You know you can’t stay where you are. You’ll need to move, try to work out where you are and how you came to be here. So you walk, head out into the unknown, in hope of finding a trail or a road. You’ll find one soon enough. It’s here you may find someone else in the same boat as yourself, equally freezing and confused. You’ll both need to keep going. It won’t be easy. You hear howls of wolves around you, and the terrain is difficult: slips and falls are likely. You’re completely vulnerable out here in the open.
But it won’t be long until you see it: the lazy trail of smoke rising in the air. Fire.
Follow it, and soon enough the way you’ve taken will certainly become a path or road. Unfolding before you in the mountainous forests, you’ll see the most welcome of sights: a small mining town tucked up in the valley. Battered, rusted road signs will direct to “MILTON, POP. 947”. You’re almost there, you keep going, and it looks like other people have had the same idea as you. As you head into the outskirts and further into town, you’ll find it’s a little easier to walk but the cold has gripped you hard. You’ll find the buildings, both shops and homes, are dark and lifeless, some of them are boarded up. Other than those heading in the same direction, towards the smoke, you won’t find any townsfolk coming to greet you, or even looking at you from behind curtains. … Where is everyone?
Towards the center of town, you’ll find the building from which the smoke rises: a school-house of sorts, or some kind of community hall. Perhaps both. You’ll find more and more people all drawn to this place, each and every one of them in the same position as yourself (and your companion, if you’ve found one). Some are in worse states than others: some are bloodied, nursing bite wounds or cuts; others might have some other kind of injury sustained in the journey here from falls. Others may look as if they could faint from the cold at any second.
The door opens, and you’re greeted by the gnarled, wizened face of an elderly man, dressed in thick furs. He has a kind face. He smiles warmly, and with pity, ushering you in with haste.
“It seems like a great deal of you have come.” he muses finally. “I am Methuselah. I welcome you Newcomer, although I’m sorry for how you’ve come to find yourself here. Please, warm yourselves. Eat. Get your bearings. Mother Nature has not been kind to you.”
The room is dim, lit mostly by the weak natural daylight through the windows. A roaring fire sits at one end of the huge hall. It crackles, bright and cheerful…. and warm. Even as big as this place is, the room is pleasantly warm. You’ll also find basic cots set up down one side of the hall, places to rest for a moment and get your bearings, or just trying to recover from the cold or any injuries. Down the other side are tables and chairs, and long, foldable tables laden with food, drinks and bottled water similar to one might find at a soup kitchen.
There are canisters with hot herbal teas and coffee, along with soup and stew and trays of charred moose, deer and rabbit meats, instant mashed potatoes, and tinned vegetables. It’s very basic, but it’s hot and filling. A feast. The old man has been busy. And Methuselah will continue to busy himself, still; there is plenty to do. He will fetch blankets, tend to wounds, serve food and drinks. He does not have much time to talk. More and more people seem to be coming in from the cold. He will not stop to sit and rest until everyone is seen to, taking up a place by the fire to gaze silently into its flames. He is troubled, thoughtful.
If you ask him where you are, he will simply respond: “This is Milton, of the Northern Territories.”
If you ask how you came to be here, he will shake his head: “Something has changed. The sky, it was… full of light. The Flare. I felt you coming, a great arrival. But I cannot say for certain how, or why you are here.”
He is regretful, genuinely so. He wishes he had more answers for you, but he does not. Instead he will simply insist you rest, get warm and eat. There is plenty to go around. Eventually, when you feel well enough, Methuselah will gesture to the door: “When you are ready and able, explore the town. Many left, others could not make it out. I have found no one but the dead. They will have no use of the place now, perhaps you might in the meantime.”
HOPE NOBODY NEEDS THIS ANYMORE
WHEN: First couple of weeks since arrival.
WHERE: Milton.
CONTENT WARNINGS: frozen dead bodies, unexplained deaths, suicide, murder.
Other than Methuselah in the Hall, the town of Milton is void of life. While not a particularly large town, there’s a few stores and even a gas station. Life here is rustic. Function over form. Homes are simple but sturdy and warm, it’s a rugged place and one can easily deduce that the folk living here led simple, self-sufficient lives.
Commercial buildings and stores of note include a bank and post office, a hunting/fishing supply store, a grocery store, and a clothing store. There is even a church just on the outskirts of town. The buildings are ripe for picking, with most of them still with the doors unlocked, including the residential buildings. Others are locked, but can be broken into easily enough. A few are even trickier, with some of them boarded up or with entrances blocked. In terms of contents, a third of the residential buildings seem to be almost empty, as if the owners moved out long ago. There might still be things left behind of use: old, warm clothes good for the wintery weather, tools and cooking utensils — but little in terms of food. Even if the former residents move some time ago, they didn’t completely empty their homes.
Most of the homes in Milton seem to be left as if the owner stepped out only a short while ago, and with very little disturbance. Some houses, however, seem to be abandoned in a hurry, with a mess of items strewn about in some last-minute dash to grab essentials: keys, identification, treasured personal items, supplies for a quick exit. Cupboards are typically filled with an abundance of canned goods, and some chilled goods might have survived in the cold weather within the fridge-freezers, but it might be a gamble if one wants to try and eat them. Any and all electronics within homes: televisions, computers, mobile-phones — although dated, will all appear cracked and damaged, and will not function or turn out at all. The same will go for any vehicles around the town: there is no hope of starting any of them.
Diaries and journals kept by the former residents may remark on a change in the weather, with the cold and harsh climate becoming more hostile as of late. Others remark strange lights in the skies, dating several weeks or so ago, strange noises in the air, issues with power and electrical items. Some make mentions of changes to the wildlife, with wolves coming close to the town even when they had never done so before. One or two mention problems on the Mainland, with increasing difficulty of reaching out to loved ones who don’t live in the Northern Territories, or deliveries being unable to arrive. The growing trend is that something odd and terrible has been happening, although no one can truly explain what, and the problems have been growing increasingly worse and worse up to the final entries. You might note that the actual years and dates might not line up with your own: the current year given in these entries is 2014.
The newcomers are free to take over these homes, if they wish. No one appears to be stopping them, and even Methuselah seems to shrug about moving in. And as he’d mentioned, he has found no one but the dead: and plenty of them can be found.
Bodies of the town’s former residence can be found scattered over the town. In homes, in stores, out in the snow. They appear still relatively fresh, although it may be hard to tell if it’s from the cold or if it’s from very little time passing. Most appear to have died from cold exposure, some appear to have simply dropped dead on the spot. Others may be found with a gun in hand. Some, worryingly, appear to have perished by another’s hand. You won’t find the entirety of the town’s population, but there’ll be at least several dozen. Men, women, children.
Methuselah seems to have begun laying the dead to rest, but there’s too many for one man to do. Maybe you can work out what to do with them, try to bury them in their backyards, or try to take them to the churchyard.
THE SIREN OF MILTON BASIN
WHEN: Until the next Aurora.
WHERE: Milton Basin.
CONTENT WARNINGS: mental manipulation, malevolent mythical creatures, falling through ice, attempted drowning/possible successful drowning, potential character death.
Those who venture further south of the town will find themselves traversing the steep, winding paths down towards the Milton Basin. The way down is treacherous, but if enough care is taken you should be able to make it down in one piece. The water is just about completely frozen over down here, thick and sturdy enough to walk over for the most part. Within the Basin there’s more wildlife to be found: deer and rabbit are plenty. And there’s even plenty of foragables, too.
Out on the water are two small ice-fishing cabins, enough to fit one or two people inside comfortably, which hold a few forgotten supplies to try out some ice-fishing if you want to see if anything bites. Both even hold little log burners to keep warm. An old hunter’s shack can be found along the water’s edge, for those not quite brave enough to travel out onto the ice, to take shelter in for when the weather gets a little too difficult, with an old log burner still working within it.
But it’s calm down here, for the most part. Peaceful even. It’s an excellent place for fishing and hunting, and a little more sheltered from the freezing winds.
Until you hear the voice. Something soft and feminine, echoing across the ice. The Basin helps to amplify the sound, and for a long time you can’t quite be sure of where exactly it’s coming from. It’s singing, she is singing. Something old, in a language you can’t quite understand. Maybe it’s not even a language at all, but simply melodic vocalizations. It’s... beautiful, you’ve never heard anything like it before in your life.
And then you see her: a woman standing upon the frozen waters of the Basin. You realise she’s probably the most beautiful woman you’ve ever seen in your life, even if you can’t quite even begin to describe her. She appears different to everyone who beholds her, some one might see her hair is long and dark, others might see her with neat red curls. Some swear her skin is dark and rich, that looks almost plum when the light hits it just so, others claim it to be cool-toned that glistens like sunlight on snow. Whatever someone might find aesthetically pleasing is how she’ll appear, and even then to describe her to others will bring you at a loss for words. And she’s singing… to you, for you.
You’re compelled to go to her, although you can’t explain why. You’re drawn to approach her, to hear her better, see her better. Your feet carry you onto the ice, out into the midst of the Basin. You ignore the calls of everyone and anyone around you, fixated on the woman before you. She smiles when you’re close enough, beckons you a little closer.
… Then everything changes. Without warning, the woman leaps for you, her face contorting into something hideous, mouth opening to scream to reveal rows upon rows of tiny, needle-like teeth. She collides with you, and the force (paired with the slippery ice below you) is enough to send you off your feet. As you fall back, the ice cracks beneath you with an almighty sound, plunging you into the frigid depths below.
The woman fights to put you beneath the water’s surface, those needle-like teeth bared like some ferocious beast. She can be fought off easily enough, but she might just drown you before you’re able to. If you’re lucky, someone might be able to help pull you out. Tools or weapons made of iron or silver are especially harmful to her.
Once you’re pulled from the water, getting somewhere warm will be the utmost priority — otherwise the cold will kill you quicker than the woman would. The woman, you’ll find, will have vanished, and the ice where you’d fallen will have restored itself, as if it had never been broken at all.
FAQs
1. Items characters have brought from home can be found either strewn around them when they awaken, or in the community hall — as if someone left them out for them to collect. Methuselah will not know how they got there, and will be quite bemused by the happenings.
2. Reminder that all characters are now depowered upon arrival. They can choose not to notice it at first, or can immediately sense something is different about them.
3. If asked any personal questions, Methuselah will smile and say "Oh, you don't want to know about an old man like me. But I have lived all over in these parts for all my life." He will be more concerned with trying to help Newcomers, and is genuinely concerned for them and their well-being.
4. If asked how he knew that the Newcomers were arriving, he concedes that although it is a strange thing to know, it is much like how one knows a storm is coming.
1. Characters are welcome to take up residency in any of the homes of Milton. Methuselah will strongly advise characters to leave a huge, dilapidated house — known as Milton House — well alone, due to extensive fire damage.
2. More information about Milton can be found here.
1. Characters with hearing impairments will not be susceptible to the Siren's song, or may only be somewhat susceptible depending, but may be entranced to a degree by looking at the Siren. However, this will be far easier to snap out of.
2. The Siren cannot be killed, only fought off. She will disappear for a length of time to recover before she attempts to lure her next victim.
no subject
Ahh...
[ part confused, part alarmed, keith's grip tightens on shiro's hips before common sense knocks the wind out of him and his hand shoots up like he's grabbed a fistful of fire. ]
I - I thought this was okay?
[ the fact that he's even having to ask the question is, in retrospect, a clear indication that this isn't okay at all. but unsure of how to proceed, keith awkwardly keeps his hand suspended, while the rest of him stays in place like he's desperately holding on to the possibility that this isn't some unforgivable faux pas. ]
what is happening
no. he is not interested. not in the slightest.
his dick is going rogue, though. disconnected from his brain – and all the reasons as to why it shouldn’t wake up – his nether regions are playing at a different tune, one that involves a breathy moan that sounds sinful and wanting and far too attractive. ]
It’s – fine. [ it’s not, but shiro is lacking the capacity to formulate a response beyond the knee-jerk reassurance that is practically second-nature to him. ] You’re not doing anything wrong.
[ what the fuck is he even saying?? overriding this unhelpful need to chase away keith’s insecurities, shiro takes keith’s retracted grip as the building block to a solution. ]
But maybe you should turn around, otherwise I might…
[ twitch? harden? no, he’s not saying that. just thinking it has his face blooming with a scandalized blush. nice to know he isn’t so frozen that he can’t get the blood flowing, though, huh? ]
It’s not like I can control it when there’s a…
[ cute… boy…? a nice dick nestled against him…? no, he can’t say that, either. well, he has to say something, which inevitably leads him backtracking somewhere closer to the first. ]
It’s been a long time, Keith. [ breathe and just say it. for better or worse, it comes out in a deadpan. ] I’m gonna get hard if you don’t turn around.
help /o\
it's just -- in hindsight, he has no idea why the hell he decided the intimacy of the situation is irrelevant. obviously, friends don't routinely share a blanket while naked. obviously, dick to dick contact is weird even if the touching has nothing to do with sex or intimacy. hell, it doesn't matter that keith has never felt less sexy in his whole life, some things are just going to be awkward no matter what the context.
shiro doesn't go so far as to chastise, but keith shrinks, avoiding eye contact as he rolls over without daring to say a word. what's his excuse here? ha ha, sorry i forgot boners are a thing? fuck. as indifferent to sexuality as keith is, it's not like he has zero awareness.
but perhaps, deep down, the biggest factor in this latest stupidity has a whole lot more to do with something far simpler.. not wanting to die in awkward silence, keith mumbles: ]
...I didn't think.[ a beat, then keith forces more words out of his mouth if only because as a standalone the explanation sounds abysmally stupid. ] ... figured because it's me, it wouldn't...?
it's too late for that
keith is skinny like a rail. aside from some trim muscle, there isn’t much of any mass to his figure. how does he have an ass on him? does every ounce of fat on his body go directly to his ass?
why is he debating this?
… figured because it’s me, it wouldn’t…?
right. because they’re friends and friends don’t pop boners around each other, especially in high-stress, near death experiences. arm still around keith, only because he’d been too dumbstruck with his own body to operate it by retracting his touch, shiro does make a conscious effort to hitch backwards at the pelvis, making sure his cock has no direct contact with keith’s very round, very cushioned –
stop it. his voice comes out strained again, higher pitched with anxiety. ]
It’s been a long time. [ he already said that. that’s about his only defense, though. well, that and – ] And you’re… attractive…?
[ wait. maybe he should have cut his losses and stopped in the useless plight to defend himself. exhaling heavily, he tilts his head and shifts his gaze to the side, looking somewhere closer to the ceiling. ]
I’m sorry. I’m being gross. You almost died and now I’m making it sound like I’m hitting on you.
i am just going to keep my eyes closed
but evidently, it isn't just keith who feels the need to explain himself, shiro does too.
it's been a long time. shiro has been saying that a lot, but largely caught up in his own head, the puzzle pieces don't quite fall into place until after that second part. and you're attractive...? the questioning tone does more to convince keith of shir's confusion than his apparent attractiveness, but the sentiment still leaves him mentally reeling.
it's been a long time ... not just since shiro was able to care about someone else, but also since he had someone to be intimate with, right? or at least, a long time since shiro had someone like adam in his life -- a person to come home to, hold and...
a squirmy, wriggly feeling in his belly interrupts the thought, and keith gives himself a vigorous mental shake. it's weird to be imagining his best friend being that way with another guy. more relevantly, shiro is lonely. as much as keith wants to relate, it's hard to know what missing a relationship like that must be like when he's never had a connection on that level.
hell. if the mere premise that shiro can look at him and think "attractive" is unbelievable, just how stunted is he? a laugh threatens to bubble out of him, though keith couldn't even say why. is it normal to go through a near-death experience and come out wondering what being with someone could be like?
feeling more delirious by the second, keith gives into that urge to laugh, though it comes out more like a quiet huff. ]
I know you're not hitting on me. We're like brothers and all. [ a beat. ] ... I guess I just didn't know you felt lonely. I mean, I know you miss home and all the people you haven't seen in ages, but... in terms of boyfriends and stuff.
that won't save you... it never does
we’re like brothers and all.
that shouldn’t bother him. in any other situation, he would melt with gratitude for being seen as such. whether this is his keith or not, the value of their friendship is beyond measure. brothers is more than he can hope for at this point. that’s family. that’s far closer to forever and no matter what; the kind of bond that shiro’s turmoil rattled existence needs. but when there’s skin on skin and a twitch in his half-hardened cock, tempted by smooth, rounded curves a mere hip tilt away…? turns out mortification works well on putting a stop to an inopportune boner.
bitterness doesn’t suit shiro. he tries not to swell with it, but between the cold, panic and exhaustion of the day, he’s near the end of his ever-patient rope. so the words aren’t tailored with their usual carefulness. shiro falls to his own shortcomings, his shame making him lose his composure with a clipped tone that does little to hide the underlying annoyance. ]
I don’t miss having a boyfriend.
[ thinking of boyfriends inevitably leads back to adam, which acts as kerosene on his already agitated irritation toward his failures. self-awareness broadens and he does catch himself, dialing back the bite to his voice by sighing heavily. next, he simply sounds sour, near grumbling. ]
I wouldn’t be the right fit for anyone anymore, anyway. We’re here trying to generate warmth and it’s the most pleasant, physical interaction I’ve had in ages, so my body reacts. It’s pathetic of me. [ a beat; no, not quite accurate. it’s better said: ] I’m pathetic.
SHHH
before Keith can get a hasty apology out, shiro continues speaking in such self-deprecating terms that keith forgets self-preservation entirely and rolls back around. but it doesn't stop at simply turning. looking pained keith puts his hand on a broad shoulder, grip firm like that's meant to accomplish something. ]
Shiro, what are you talking about? You're not pathetic. You're -- I'd be dead right now if it weren't for you! And besides that, you're the most amazing person -- there's nobody like you, and I...
[ a beat, then keith inches a smidge closer, not quite touching chest-to-chest, but close enough that the heat from shiro's body makes him shiver. ]
.. I don't know. It feels good like this.
no subject
apparently, keith has applied layer after layer of glue to him, to keep him perched high.
it's not as though shiro wants to be knocked off, either. he likes keith's favor. he enjoys being, quite frankly, keith's favorite person. but at this specific moment, it feels entirely unearned and so, he does a poor job of hiding the misery in his face.
… but then keith is closer. warmer. he's right there again, so readily available that all it requires is a calculated shift to press them flush. his body doesn't yearn as it did moments ago, though. brother keeps his focus where it ought to be, leading him to hearing it feels good like this in the best, most inconspicuous way possible. he exhales a breath he just now catches himself holding, arm carefully encircling keith's waist more comfortably. ]
You do feel warmer.
[ as frozen as he had been, sharing body heat would, undoubtedly, make this feel good. keeping along that narrow path, shiro reassures: ]
I'll focus on that and keep myself under control. [ and now, a bit more pleading: ] Let's just forget I said anything.
omg you actually did shush LOL
so instead of taking the easy way out by agreeing, keith frowns and gives shiro's shoulder a light jostling. ]
You're not listening. You said all these harsh things about yourself and now you're shutting me out. I don't wanna be shut out, Shiro.
[ a beat, then the frown softens a pinch as keith carefully presses in closer, touching chest to chest. ]
... I mean... before we ran into each other on the ice, I thought I lost you again. And then with the monster, I thought.... [ expression crumpling, keith falters and gives himself a mental shake. ] ... I want to be closer to you. I know that doesn't make any sense because we already are, but .. it doesn't feel like enough.
YOU TOLD ME TO???
shiro slipped up before. put on the spot and cornered by his own self-flagellation, he said too much about this being the most pleasant physical interaction he’s had in recent memory. of course this gives nothing away about the extent of his gladiator matches or the rounds of experimentation that followed, but it’s a crack in the door, just enough to coax keith into wedging his foot in there before shiro can slam it shut again. the very idea of divulging the tattered remains of his memories churns his stomach and stops his heart with dread. no, he doesn’t want to talk about it, even though, arguably, keith deserves to know who and what he has committed himself to.
so if shiro chooses ignorance, ignoring the possibility that keith means to be closer to shiro through a heart to heart about his past, then what’s left? physically.
it doesn’t feel like enough.
feel? feel? shiro feels the gap close between their chests, keith once more leaning into him. shiro falters in the moment, fingertips curling to find the dip of keith’s spine. down, down he goes, running feather-like along the knobs until he’s so close to the base that if he keeps going, he’ll be running his palm over the swell of thick, too thick ass cheeks.
so he stops, hand resting at the small of his back. he swallows – no, he gulps, gaze flighty as his heart pounds with nervous, uncertain energy. ]
You don’t know what you’re asking for.
[ truly, shiro still doesn’t know what it is keith is angling for, either. already, he’s fouling this up, because he should continue on as before by brushing this off with a much firmer rejection. rejection is what has him faltering; as much as he hates being made vulnerable and open, he hates the crumpled, defeated look of keith more. so he reasons, more than he tells, briefly made weak. ]
Once that happens… it’s not something that can be taken back. It’ll change things.
[ whether that’s becoming closer through words or through touch, the matter remains the same: keith will look at him differently. ]
I SUPPOSE, but ... /uhshushes
see, shiro isn't wrong at all. keith doesn't know what he's asking for. he's already admitted that nothing fits into neat categories when it comes to his best friend. these last few days spent alone in milton, keith had been functional, sure -- focused on trying to survive whatever winter hellhole he'd found himself in, but that'd come at the expense of shutting down any part of him too close to turbulent grief.
truthfully, even with shiro present and holding him close, that unprocessed core of raw emotion is still there, still rattling away in a cage, serving as an ever-present reminder that nothing is forever. tomorrow, he could wake up and shiro could be gone yet again.
and if that were to be the case, what regrets would keith have about this moment?
he opens his eyes, expression twisted up in confusion and misery before he sighs. ]
... I used to be scared of things changing between us. But lately, I'm more scared of all the messed up things that could happen to pull us apart that we don't get to control. And I guess.. if something were to happen again, I'd be pretty mad at myself for not... you know...
/insert yelling now that i am unshushed
life is cruel and life is harsh; more ruinous in fact is that life is fragile. it seems as though shiro is continuously working against the odds with borrowed time and now, that same damnation is extending to keith. so why does shiro continue to prescribe to the idea of patience? patience yields focus? no, not anymore. shiro has abused it, twisting patience into reluctance and avoidance. he delays and bides his time for no other reason than to hide away from the prospect of opening himself up to change.
he’s still not convinced.
… but he wavers, that firm shut down alluding him still. because truth be told, he shares that same fear: he’s afraid of being separated from keith. keith who is his one anchor to who he used to be. shiro and keith, keith and shiro – shiro knows that role well. he has a better grasp of who he’s meant to be when he has the other half of the equation nearby. but if he loses keith… then who is shiro? will he even be capable of recapturing his old self without every reminder keith embodies for him? or is he too jaded and too ripped apart to stitch himself back together beyond the grotesque monster he’s become?
god, it sounds as though he only wants his boy close for his own benefit. is he that selfish? that uncaring? he is immensely fond of the boy he left behind on earth, that affection seamlessly extending to this version of keith… so no, he isn’t uncaring. there is, however, a self-interest that he can’t help feeling some shame for. none of this helps in the moment. all it does is delay him in action, hand still flush warm at the small of keith’s back and chest brushing close with each breath. he understands and yet he doesn’t, over and over he continues to debate what it is keith is even saying. inevitably, he caves and brings himself to ask, reluctance stilting his words, because even now, he knows that every continued prompting is closing the possibility of turning back. ]
No, I don’t know. [ a beat, voice softer. ] For not what?
no subject
is it normal to feel hollowed out, soul and all, when he wakes up to the knowledge that he may never see shiro again? the way people got on his case at the garrison certainly made it seem like keith was overreacting in some capacity, but knowing that hadn't exactly stopped him from feeling gutted yet again.
but what the fuck does that even mean at this point?
put on the spot, keith finds his mind is blank, head empty save for the simple pleasure of touching and being touched by shiro, like it's a mutual affirmation of being tied to the same reality. ]
For....
[ he starts, then bites his lip, gaze lowering as he takes a dep, steadying breath. ]
For not holding onto you as tight as I could while we were together, I guess? I know it sounds weird, and I don't know what it means, but ... it feels nice with you.
*I* on the other hand, did not tell you to shush AND YET
It does feel nice.
[ the echoing agreement comes after a silence-filled pause, shiro’s voice soft, hesitant, but ultimately, genuine in his inability to downplay the affect of their proximity. is it shocking? yes and no. a different sort of shiro used to thrive through tactile affection, often times picking keith as the target to dote on. shoulder clasps, back slaps, hair ruffles, hugs… – shiro benefitted just as much from that closeness. even now, even when he sometimes thinks he’s too damaged, both in body and in spirit, to be as abundantly open and free with affection, he finds himself yearning for it all the same. he misses keith, even when he’s right here cuddled close, because he thinks he understands what keith means: there’s still some unnamed thing between them that mars the bond they used to have. they’re close, but they’re not close enough, leaving all the potential for regret to find either one of them.
still, shiro is hesitant to do anything productive about it. safe is better, even if it feels wholly inadequate. ]
Hold on as tight as you want.
[ a beat, a breath, and he trails his fingers back up his spine, before tightening slow, tucking his hand in closer to the space between keith and couch, to hug him closer to his chest. ]
And I will, too. [ he’ll even – tentatively – nudge his leg over, laying his calf to ankle to foot over keith’s cold, so very cold toes. ] Nothing is going to separate us right now, you don’t have to worry.
... i always forget about subject lines
it's hard to put words to the way weight lifts from keith's soul, but with shiro draping his arm across to pull him in flush to his chest, suddenly words don't even feel like they'd do any justice. keith rolls, eyes squeezed shut as he completes the circle of their embrace by draping his own arm over shiro's lower back, and hauling himself in the rest of the way, lining up chest to chest, and subsequently hiip to hip.
there's no apology this time and no awkward shuffle back when sensitive parts inevitably come into contact -- and maybe there ought to be because keith's skin prickles with just the faintest twinge of pleasure.
instead, keith tips his head back just enough to hold shiro's gaze and murmurs: ]
So ... when I wake up. I'll wake up just like this, right? That's a promise?