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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.
cw: religious violence, torture
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
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
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
[ 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.
no subject
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.
no subject
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.
no subject
(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.
no subject
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. ]
no subject
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. ]
no subject
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? ]
no subject
But watching him does seem to please Rei, even if it doesn't amuse. Thomas doesn't mind her observation. He doesn't know if it's a wish to see the good she's done unfold, or a nursemaid's consideration for an invalid, or simple curiosity over whether or not he'll lose hold of the spoon. It doesn't matter. She's entitled to look where she likes.
The interlude isn't peaceful, with all the hubbub close at hand and the throbbing ache of him closer than that, but it's companionable. When Rei speaks up at last, Thomas is slightly surprised at how much time must have elapsed without him taking notice. He unclenches his fist and releases the spoon, blinking down at the girl. ]
I assumed he is.
[ He hears the question plainly enough, even without it being inflected as one. His answer is therefore equally plain, which has so far seemed the best way for them to understand one another. ]
You spoke well of him, and counted on him being charitable to me, as he seemed to have been charitable to you. Where I come from, that's can be enough to call someone a friend.
cw: child abuse (referenced)
So far, in Rei's life, three people have come to her aid: Commander Ikari, Shinji Ikari, and Methuselah. But they're all so different, and Rei hasn't spoken of Shinji or Commander Ikari at all here. She considers, briefly, what she would say about each of them - Shinji is a capable pilot, and agreeable to be around, and she did not want him to die. Methuselah is kind, consistently so, but Rei doesn't know much else about him. Commander Ikari is -
- Rei closes her eyes. She reaches into her coat pocket and finds the frames of a pair of glasses. As she twists the frames a little, there inside her coat, she opens her eyes, and does not look at Thomas.
She doesn't know much about Commander Ikari at all. It's best not to think of him. She needs to be careful of the kinds of questions she asks. Rei nods once, a small and quick little gesture, to show she heard and understood, and considers that enough. ]
Where you come from?
[ Easier to think of something else. (Are she and Thomas friends?) Perhaps he's from a colder place, filled with flaky, frozen water called snow. ]
no subject
He watches, and he holds his tongue. There's something there, be it about friendship, Methuselah, whatever her fingers toy with unseen, or some intersection of the three. Whatever it is, she wants to be done with it for the time being. It's not his place or his inclination to pry.
But he does mark it. An old habit, recently sharpened. ]
Yes. England.
[ He's hardly surprised she can't tell. Her English is excellent, but he doesn't hear the Empire in it, which stands to reason - if the British Crown declared a second war on Heaven, he imagines he'd have heard of it. That means he likely ought to be more specific than naming a country alone. ]
It's a country on a island towards the northern part of the world. The British Isles, if you've heard of them. It's cold like this in the winter. [ Not quite like this, but that's quibbling. ] Where do you come from?
no subject
Thomas turns the question back around on her, and it's only then that Rei realizes she's asked an awfully complicated one. Where do you come from isn't as difficult as what are you or worse, who are you, but it's still tricky. There are so many answers she could give: Central Dogma, NERV, Tokyo-3, Japan. Water. LCL. Herself.
She studies Thomas again for a moment, as if that could help her figure out which answer he's looking for. Thomas gave her a country, and then explained where it was, so Rei opts for a similar approach. ]
Japan. From a city, made by man. There is only summer. [ She searches through her memories, trying to find anything that might be useful. ] They say that was not created by man. The summer came from elsewhere.
[ A worldwide disaster, but based on the way everyone talks about it, no one saw a thing. ]
no subject
He knows what is commonly known about the country, which is to say he assumes he knows next to nothing true. His travels outside of England had been educational in that respect. But he's never heard of it being in eternal summer, and how she speaks of the summer itself is strange. From any other person he might think it was poetic license, but Rei has been nothing but bluntly factual to this point.
And he knows something more about occurrences from elsewhere now than he did only a bare handful of days, hours, ago. ]
A jarring transition. [ He says, after a moment or two of digesting that next to the stew in his belly. ] Perpetual summer to this.
[ He picks up another piece of the bread and runs it around the bowl of stew, more out of mechanical obligation than much remaining hunger, and halts. A nagging idea comes to him, and before his brain catches up to his mouth, he asks: ]
You've been warned about frostbite?
[ Of all the questions in the world, he lands on something so...practical in its inanity. ]
cw: vague reference to child death
Rei has a much more difficult time deciphering frostbite. It's tricky enough that Rei doesn't scoff at Thomas for assuming that she's been warned about anything. These people don't know her, and if they did, they'd know she's nothing, replaceable. (Replaced.) There's no reason to warn her of anything. ]
No.
[ And then, because she doesn't expect Thomas to warn her, either: ]
What is it?
cw: finger amputation joke
It passes. It always does. ]
What I've gotten for going without gloves and muffler, for one.
[ He extends his pinky and clumsily taps the tip of his nose, a gesture he immediately regrets for being far too childish for both of them. She might be able to tell that from the exasperated crease of his brow, or she might not. Either way, he presses on. ]
It's what happens when the cold freezes the skin. It blisters and peels after it thaws. If you're unfortunate, you'll part with fingers and toes. [ He pauses a moment, and adds, very dry: ] And I've parted with all of those I care to.
Cover as much of yourself as you can to stay warm when you go outside, and don't linger. If any part of you begins to go numb, take yourself indoors to a fire.
cw: finger amputation joke (and it doesn't even land)
Still, there must have been some utility to the gesture, otherwise Thomas wouldn't have done it, so Rei checks her own nose and the tips of her ears. She touches each briefly, but they all feel the same as the rest of her skin, which means she's probably fine.
The rest of the information is clear, and what's better, useful. Rei nods once, to show she understands, and folds her hands back in her lap.
There's something in the way how Thomas mentions he's parted with all the fingers and toes he cares to - some shift in tone that's more confusing than any gesture. It does not, at any point, occur to Rei he's trying to make a joke. ]
You've lost toes?
cw: unfunny middle aged man
Not yet.
[ He doesn't mean for it to sound so forced. He takes another breath, shallow and careful, and lets it slip from his mouth this time. When he speaks again, he's levelled out somewhat, although the words slump at their edges. ]
The preferred number of digits to part with is, as I understand it, nil. [ A diffident half-shrug, or a gesture towards a shrug. ] I suppose I do seem careless enough to have misplaced some toes as well.
Just remember what I said about keeping warm.
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On instinct, Rei ducks her head, perhaps so Thomas doesn't see her cheeks flush. There's a brief glimpse of that same fragile smile, and then it's gone. When Rei picks her head back up, she's back to her usual self again. ]
I'll remember.
[ For once, she doesn't respond with the yes, sir of a soldier receiving an order. She makes a mental note to go look for a scarf - perhaps in one of those abandoned homes Methuselah keeps talking about. ]
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The locket is tucked away in the pocket of his trousers, crumpled behind him under the drape of his blanket. He found it looped around his neck, a welcome cold over his heart. A girl ducks her head to hide a smile she's uncertain of, and he thinks of her. ]
I'm sure you will. [ His expression is gentler and more hesitant than he can know. ] You're a sensible girl.
[ She seems like the kind of girl who would appreciate being called sensible. He drags up a thin smile for her again, slouching slightly forward as another wave of exhaustion rolls over him, as if nostalgia wrung the last of his strength out. ]
...and I'm not long for waking.
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In fact, Thomas is right about two things. He doesn't look like he's going to stay upright for much longer. Rei stands, as silent as she was during their walk in the snow, and she takes the dishes from Thomas' cot.
There's something to say, here, but Rei doesn't know what it is. She stares at Thomas for a little while longer, as if searching for it. As gentle as Thomas' face is, however, she isn't finding it there. All she knows is that she doesn't want to say farewell.
Rei turns around, and begins to walk back into the crowd of newcomers. After a few paces, she pauses, briefly, and turns back to look at Thomas one more time.
Then she faces forwards again, and she is gone. ]