August 2023 Test Drive Meme

[singmod]

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

ARRIVAL: METHUSELAH'S FEAST

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.

HOPE NOBODY NEEDS THIS ANYMORE

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.

THE SIREN OF MILTON BASIN

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.

Comments

[alef]

[ Is he like her? Is Rei searching for something that is not there? If she goes down this road, there will be nothing but question after question, and she will drown under the weight of them.

Easier to go backwards. Rei remembers what it is like to be hurt, bandaged up, barely able to move. That kind of pain is concrete, easier to understand, and easier to remedy.

She falls into step beside him once more, this time on the side he does not favor. She offers her arm. ]

[missionem]

[ If he had any common decency, he'd be ashamed of himself for accepting her arm. Since he gave up common decency some years ago, however, he's merely grateful, a dumb, base gratitude like the ox at the lifting of his yoke. ]

Thank you.

[ He's reminded, absurdly, of taking his sister's arm on the way to a village fair. She'd been old enough to wish to be treated as a lady, young enough to prickle at any insinuation she harboured such a girlish desire. He'd always sought to give her anything she wanted before she had to stoop to asking for it.

This girl doesn't remind him of Jennifer, except for that. He's still glad of the memory. ]

My name is Thomas. What's yours?

[alef]

[ Thank you. Words of gratitude. He is grateful. Is that why he gives out his name like that, so freely? Rei has only ever used those words once, to one person, and she has never learned how to respond to them. But she can return the name. ]

Rei.

[ Just the one name, no family name. She never understood why Commander Ikari gave her two names when he did not give her a family.

If Thomas expected her to say anything more than that, he definitely hasn't learned anything from this conversation. Rei lapses back into a comfortable silence, and focuses instead on not jostling Thomas too much. Maybe that's what inspires to speak again, a few minutes later. ]

The stew is good. You can eat it with one hand, and there are potatoes in it.

[missionem]

[ Rei. The brevity suits her.

Thomas joins her in quiet readily enough, although he can't manage silence. Tiny grunts of effort keep slipping loose, jarred out of him every other step even with her assistance. She's tolerated the rest of him well enough, so he imagines she'll tolerate that. ]

I am fond...of potatoes in stew.

[ The words are laboured, but there's no helping that either. Despite everything, imagining a warm, rich stew studded with soft, steaming chunks of potato does drag some last dregs of longing out of him.

Some martyr he makes, dwelling on such base matters. Good. He'd hate to live up to expectations this late. ]

What else is in the stew? If you know.

[alef]

[ Rei does not mind the little noises, nor his slow speech. She's not sure if she likes it, either, but there is something to be said for the fact that he gives her time to speak. It's a little easier around him than it is around others.

The potatoes are good. Another similarity. She considers the question, which is a nice one, because it allows her to think about the stew, and about the warm place. ]

Carrots. Onions. Celery.

[ And meat, too, but Rei didn't eat that part, so she's not qualified to speak about it. Hopefully those are vegetables Thomas likes, and he eats them, because he seems to need them badly. ]

[missionem]

[ If he thinks very hard, he can add the vegetables to his illusory mental stew. The sweet rounds of the carrots, the tang of stewed onions, the crunch of celery. A slight smile creases his face as he pushes back the edges of darkness creeping up on his consciousness. ]

Your old man knows what he's about.

[ As far as he's concerned at this point, this Methuselah belongs to Rei and not the other way round. It inclines him to prepare to be civil if he manages to make it that far. ]

Is there bread to dip in it?

[alef]

[ Her old man? Thomas must be confused. Nothing belongs to Rei. She turns her head so she can look directly at him, and make sure he didn't just hit his head against a tree or something.

(There is a pair of glasses in her pocket. Their weight is heavy.)

The question, at least, is a reasonable one, and it brings her back to the stew. ]

The bread is for dipping? [ That's a new one. There was bread, but Rei ate it separately, with butter. ]

[missionem]

[ Chances are it's the cudgel blow to the head more than any of the trees he collided with giving Thomas trouble, but that was either ages or hours ago. He attempts a wry smile when she looks at him, which does little to be reassuring about his connection to reality. ]

It can be, depending on the bread. A good, crusty loaf, to tear apart and dunk, then mop up the bottom of the bowl...

[ Let it not be said that Thomas was completely ungenerous. Educating this peculiar girl on the joys of mingling bread and stew might not be the last act of kindness he intended, but there it is all the same.

He wheezes a little harder at that, throat fluttering. Ahead of them, he's beginning to make out what he thinks could be the geometric shapes of buildings in the dark, the tiny lights of distant fires. He doesn't say anything. If he's seeing things, he'd prefer to keep seeing them. ]

You should try it.

[alef]

[ Rei turns her gaze back towards the horizon, giving Thomas' description serious consideration. Most of the time, when humans say things, it's utterly useless, but this is good information. When Thomas suggests she tries it for herself, Rei nods, no longer responding yes or no like a soldier receiving an order. She'll try it because she wants to.

As they come a little closer, they pass another sign pointing in the direction of the town. Rei can make out the buildings, and one - Methuselah's schoolhouse - has a lantern on.

Rei stands up a little straighter and gets a little closer, allowing Thomas to put a little more of his weight on her, if he chooses. They've almost made it. ]

[missionem]

[ It's hardly a choice at this point. The last reserves of his strength are giving way the closer they come to fleeting salvation. He feels himself guttering like the end of a candle, weaving in and out of numbing semiconsciousness.

The lantern bobs invitingly in his woozy vision. There can be no other destination for them. ]

You do make quite a guide.

[ The delirium of the fading mind is distinct from the intoxicated one. There is a sense of dissolution, the anchors of the self coming untied. He is no longer certain which girl is at his side, but that doesn't trouble him. She is quite the guide, and he's glad of her arm. ]

[alef]

I was a pilot.

[ Rei reminds him, her soft, flat voice a moderately decent approximation of gentleness. If she can handle an Eva, she can certainly guide a single injured human.

Keeping the human alive, however, is another matter, and Rei is relieved when the two of them cross the threshold. The relief will surprise her later, when she's not focused on finding Methuselah. Fortunately, he arrives to greet them almost immediately, and he is even kinder than Rei remembers. ]

Welcome back, young one. I see you have brought a Newcomer - welcome. I am Methuselah.

[ Methuselah leads them into a warm, fire-lit room. Even though she could leave, at this point, Rei finds she does not want to. Thomas is still weak, and it would be wrong, insofar as Rei understands what that word means, to leave Methuselah to care for him all by himself. ]

[missionem]

[ Their progress past the threshold is an Impressionistic dreamscape so far as Thomas is concerned. Rei's quiet voice drifts across his awareness like a windblown seed (I was a pilot) as the overwhelming warmth and brightness inside floods what else remains of his senses. He feels half-blind, more than half-dead, a frozen, ghoulish intruder on this shockingly inviting scene.

He hadn't believed that this place was real. He had expected it all to vanish like smoke, and the girl with it, one last cruel joke before the end. He would have known what to make of that.

The old man, Methuselah, joins Rei in supporting Thomas as he guides them both to a cot and settles Thomas on it. The man says more, something about Thomas' wounds, the need to clean and dress them, and Thomas begins to fumble at his buttons before he recalls his company. ]

You should turn around.

[ It's delirium that makes him recall his modesty so long ago discarded. That, and perhaps he still has some scruples when it comes to exposing innocent eyes to the wreck of himself. He doesn't want her to see that her efforts to aid him were futile from the start. ]

[alef]

[ Once Thomas is settled on the cot, Rei hangs back a couple paces behind Methuselah. Her expression is the same blank slate as always, but it's not hard to imagine that she's unsure as to whether she's allowed to be here, while at the same time not ready to leave quite yet.

It doesn't occur to Rei that Thomas has asked her to turn around in order to spare her from seeing something. Since when has anyone ever cared about what she sees? He must be embarrassed about something, a feeling that Rei believes she has not experienced, and therefore cannot understand.

At the end of the day, she does not want Methuselah to see her be disobedient. So she turns, and waits for the two of them to finish whatever they're doing. ]

cw: gore, finger trauma, religious violence, torture

[missionem]

[ If Rei choose not to turn Thomas would hardly be aware of it, but he trusts the old man would take measures to shield his ward. Methuselah assists Thomas in shucking all but his long underwear, a semblance of privacy provided largely by the old man's back.

Thomas doesn't care who else might peer around his shoulders to oogle the battered meat that remains of him.

There are the new injuries. Six deep stab wounds to his left side, piercing his abdomen. His mangled, cold-stiffened hand, fingers not severed but crushed and torn away, ragged edge of his palm a weeping mess beneath the filthy improvised bandage Methuselah removes. The colourless touch of frostbite on his nose, the tips of his ears, his remaining fingers. The incidental scrapes and bruises otherwise incurred, afterthoughts like the tiny straight slice on his neck.

There are the old scars. The knotted constellation of his back arrayed around that great mockery branded over his spine and spanning his shoulders. His bad knee manages to ache through the numbness otherwise engulfing him, a long acquaintance come knocking.

The old man says nothing of any of it. He rubs some unguent over his hands and begins to work on Thomas' wounds, and that at last wrests a fresh grunt of pain from Thomas' lips. ]

This will...take some time. [ He ekes out, through gritted teeth. ] If you have other duties to attend to.

[ It's not his place to speak over the old man, but he couldn't care less. ]

You can see me afterwards.

[ Dutiful of her to stick around so long in the first place, but at this rate, Thomas thinks he might have as much as hours left in him. She might well be able to return before the blood loss and sickness of the gut extinguish him, and see that it was no shortcoming of her efforts that determined his fate.

How unkind it is of him to keep dying in front of young women. He should put an end to that before it becomes a permanent habit. ]

cw: gore, finger trauma

[alef]

[ Rei would have stood like that for as long as they needed. Where else would she go, after all? Back to the dining hall, full of noisy humans? The woods, to freeze again? Her own cot, where she will wait, alone? None of those options strike Rei as being any better than waiting here.

Methuselah, for his part, does not seem to mind Thomas addressing Rei. With how focused he is on Thomas' injuries, it's easy to think he is unaware that Rei is standing there at all.

When Thomas speaks to Rei again, she finally turns back around. In the low light, in this corner of the room, Rei looks more like the apparition, and less like the being who offered Thomas her arm. She stares at Thomas' injuries, as he has likely by now realized she is prone to doing, lingering on the the hand in particular. Once again, she says nothing, and her expression does not change.

It will take some time. And once Rei has decided for herself how long that is likely to be, she silently takes her leave.

(And she gets back in line for the stew, and for the bread, thinking carefully on whether Thomas would like meat in his stew. She doesn't, but she knows most other humans do, and she resolves to scoop up a few cubes of beef, but not too much. Instead, when she gets to the front of the line, she focuses on getting the best potatoes possible, her mouth set in a determined little line.)

When Rei returns, she brings a bowl of stew and a couple of slices of bread, and will set it beside Thomas once it looks like he's ready. ]

cw: religious violence, torture

[missionem]

[ So she sees it after all. As she walks away, he wonders if he expected any other reaction from her beyond that same blankly observant stare. If he did, he shouldn't have, but by this time he almost has trouble imagining anything else.

He suspects her blankness is only a surface thing, as uncanny as it is. She pays too close attention to think nothing. No, it's another sort of vacancy with her, one he imagines bound up in her apparent obedient docility.

None of this matters, but it is a diversion from the growing clamour of agony as he's cleaned and stitched and bandaged and thawed. It's less unpleasant than contemplating most other things that swim to mind as he's dragged back from the verge one more bloody time.

(If he thinks of Jennifer, not as long ago girl-child but as woman grown, it will be the undoing of him. He knows this beyond doubt. He cannot think of her.)

It's some interminable time before Rei returns, which he only somewhat expected. He's passably clean above the neck, and there's nothing else to be seen of him outside of his swaddling blanket besides his right hand clutching a canister of tea. According to the old man, his gut doesn't seem to have been perforated, which Thomas doubts to be true, but it does mean he is allowed a warm drink - and, evidently, stew. ]

Thank you.

[ The courtesy slips from him with uncommon sincerity. He sets his tea aside and reaches for a slice of bread, ignoring the tremor of his hands. It's far from the first meal he's attempted with shaking, weak limbs. But before he quite touches the crust, he stops, turning his still-sharp gaze on her. ]

The mark on my back. [ He says, bluntly. ] It means nothing to me.

[ How much did she see of the branded cross? He can't know, and so it's pointless to dissemble or skirt the issue. Better to speak and be done with it. This girl battles angels. The symbol of her enemy spanning his shoulders surely occasioned some thought, even if he doesn't expect to be made privy to it. ]

The scar of an old life, and one best forgotten. I meant what I said of angels to you in the woods.

cw: religious violence, torture

[alef]

[ Once Thomas accepts the stew, Rei takes a seat on the floor, leaning back against the edge of the cot, staring at the wall. She listens to Thomas' thanks, followed by his explanation of his injuries, and Rei is not really sure why he bothers to offer either of those. It would be smarter for him to eat.

It must be important to him, Rei reasons, so she considers each carefully. The gratitude has a more straightforward answer - he must like the stew, despite the fact that he delays eating it.

Any of those injuries, on the other hand, could be the mark on his back, but Rei suspects he means the largest one. Of all of them, that one struck her as painful, but not especially remarkable. Unit 01 can cast a ray in that shape, after all, so there is no reason why another machine could not do so as well. She very much doubts it has anything to do with the Angel kept within Terminal Dogma, but she supposes it wouldn't hurt to check. ]

Have you seen an Angel before?

[ Rei asks, still focused on that spot on the wall. She doesn't look back at Thomas until a few moments later, when she guesses he surely will have started eating his stew by now. And she's not even turning around to look at him: instead, she steals the second piece of bread from his plate, dunks it into his stew, and takes a bite, all without saying a word. ]

cw: referenced drug use

[missionem]

[ Thomas hasn't the strength to laugh, and if he did it would only aggravate his injuries. He does manage a smile at her pilfering, bold as you please. No less than her right, after going to all the trouble of hauling in his carcass and fetching him food he's so churlishly not sampling.

He picks up his bread and mimics her gesture. The bread is softer than he's had in years, tearing easily between his teeth. The stew is even richer than his imaginings, fatty and flavorful. He barely has to chew before he swallows, but he takes his time with it, conscious of his stomach's tendency to buck when he's deprived of his little tincture. ]

No.

[ He dunks the bread again, lifts it dripping from the bowl. Appalling manners on his part, and a dreadful example for the young girl sprawled so boyishly on the floor. The conspicuous hum of satisfaction that follows his next bite only compounds the issue. ]

What are they like?

cw: body horror

[alef]

Then you don't know anything about them.

[ And so he doesn't have to explain his injuries.

Explaining the Angels, meanwhile, is far more difficult. Thomas was right about the bread in the stew, at least - it is good. She dips her piece again and takes another bite before moving onto Thomas' question.

I will share part of my mind with you.

It's too difficult to eat and think about the Angels at the same time, so Rei doesn't. She sits back against the cot once more, her back arched this time, and her knees pulled close to her chest. She opens her free hand and stares at it, following the lines of her palm and the veins in her wrist, none of them bulging.

Nevertheless, if she thinks about it for too long, it still hurts, even if no one else is there. ]

They are many, and in pain.

[missionem]

[ Thomas watches the girl wind in on herself in spring-steel coiled tension with recognition, if not remorse. ]

So they are.

[ He says, for the sake of saying anything at all, then falls silent for a time as he works through the rest of his slice of bread. Rei is dismissed to the edges of his attention and wherever her mind has gone wandering at the question.

It stands to reason angels would know pain. All he's seen of the divine is agony. How fortunate for himself and the dead pilot on the floor that they're only mortal, and so allotted only a mortal capacity for suffering.

He carelessly wipes his fingers on his blanket and takes up his spoon, grasping it as a child would so that it juts from his closed fist. He captures a chunk of potato and a bit of beef, then watches the light glisten on the broth, the steam wafting gently upward. ]

You weren't exaggerating about the stew.

[alef]

[ Ordinarily, Rei would find Thomas' response irritating. Another useless thing to say, another thing she already knows. But she finds that she minds it less here, in this warm room.

Her mind does wander as Thomas finishes his bread, but she doesn't think about her likes and dislikes. Those she tends to observe, like ripples in a pond, watching as they fade away. Such things don't really matter, and it doesn't occur to Rei that there could be a rhyme or reason to them.

Instead, she continues thinking about the Angels, and what they are like. It's not something Rei has given a lot of thought to, besides the fact that it is her duty to kill them. They are large, frightening things, terrible to look at. But they are not any stranger than humans. Perhaps they are easier to understand. Is it strange, to understand an Angel?

Rei doesn't have time to work that one out before Thomas speaks again, this time about the stew. He must finally be eating it. She turns around to check, and is satisfied that he's finally got the spoon in his hand.

There are potatoes in it, Rei considers saying. I got them for you. But that makes it sound like she's seeking praise, which would make her like Unit 02's pilot, which would make her a fool. So Rei holds her tongue, and tries to come up with something else. ]

No. [ She doesn't exaggerate. ] You're not dying anymore.

[missionem]

[ In a sane world, Thomas should treat Rei's proclamation as the naive wish of a child. Children have a tendency to state wishes as facts, as though that's proof against the universe's indifference.

(A shiver brushes down his spine like wind through pine needles in the dark.

He stares at the potato. He imagines its skin, encrusted with soil. Its body, still in the earth. Leaves burst from the loam, stretch to the sun. A flower blooms, white star, poison fruit.

He blinks, and it's gone.) ]

It seems I am not.

[ When he agrees, he wonders if it may be true. The pain in his side has remained diminished from what it was. The profound internal sense of disarray has not returned, while every other injury has re-announced itself as he's thawed out.

He's still likely to die, but perhaps he is not dying at this moment. ]

Which I owe to you, and your provision of potatoes. [ He dredges a smile up from somewhere, worn thin but sincere enough. ] As well as some small effort by your friend Methuselah.

You should consider yourself very well acquitted as a rescuer, Miss Rei.

[alef]

[ Rei doesn't know what to say to any of that. She doesn't know what to do with any of that. Is it praise? Is it a fact? Why is Thomas smiling? Why is she still here? Is Methuselah really her friend; is she truly a rescuer?

Rei drops her gaze, now looking at her knees, as if that could steady her. It doesn't. It's so warm in this room. It was warm in the entry plug, too, when Unit-00 took all that heat damage. Ikari had opened the hatch; Ikari had rescued her then. It was confusing, like this. He suggested she smile.

Thomas is smiling, too. But it's not the strange, joyful smiles of her classmates, nor the haughty, false smile of Unit-02's pilot.

Rei looks back up. She joins in with her own smile - small, close-lipped, a little uncertain, but no less real. ]

[missionem]

[ Her smile recalls other smiles he's known in his life. Some meant for him, and many not. It's a shy, fragile thing, and it transforms her face so that he wonders he ever could have mistaken this girl for a spirit.

In the warm, sane light of the hall, she's just an uncertain child. One who came to his aid when he was in need, despite his abominable appearance and conduct, and showed care enough to look in on him a second time with a nourishing gift.

It's kindness he doesn't deserve. Under the fractured, heaving bitterness of his soul, it touches the tiny, sheltered seed of what softness is left in him.

What can he do about it but pop his spoon into his mouth and make a show of chewing the potato and beef? He's sure it makes a comic sight to see him apparently transported to a realm of deliciousness, given his wrung out demeanour and the wreck she knows lies under his blanket. He hopes it might, anyway. ]

[alef]

[ If Thomas is at all exaggerating his movements, or putting on any kind of demonstration for Rei, she doesn't register it. Her smile lasts a little while longer until her face slips into something in between the out-of-practice smile and her neutral stare. Something like contentment, maybe, although Rei doesn't know that, any more than she knows what she looks like right now. The most important thing is that he's eating the potatoes before they get cold.

Rei watches Thomas eat for a little while longer. Earlier, when it was Rei who was eating the stew, there was a noisy man who kept pointing out how strange it was that she did that. But he must have been even stupider than Rei initially thought, because if it's so strange, why doesn't she feel strange? Why, instead, does Rei feel warm in a way that has nothing to do with the fire at the end of the hall, or the jacket around her shoulders?

It's not a question Rei can answer. It's not one she even wants to think about too hard, worried that if she pursues it with any great effort, it'll escape, like a rabbit or a cloud.

There is, however, a related question that Thomas might be able to answer. If Rei is lucky, maybe it'll help her understand whatever's happening here. She waits for Thomas to be nearly done with his stew, however long that takes, and then notes, in that same soft voice: ]

You keep calling Methuselah my friend.

[ Why? ]