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
i thought i lost you again!
again. again. they haven’t spoken of it much. their last meeting was, in a word, confusing. nevermind the empty city and the absent explanation for their arrivals, the fact that keith is older than he ought to be and far more knowledgeable of shiro’s future than anyone should be, are the aspects that took precedence. voltron, paladins, a princess, a universe wide war, and shiro’s destiny to lead the resistance – that’s been the limit thus far, of shiro’s ability to process.
shiro’s year alone and keith’s year alone, well…
it’s not as though shiro couldn’t guess. keith doesn’t have to go into detail to express every way in which the failed kerberos mission affected him. even holed up in his cell, shiro knew keith would be upset by the news. shiro’s been wrong, though. hearing it is has a entirely different effect.
fuck, he’s sorry. hit with a wave of remorse, shiro shakes his head to ward off the destabilizing emotion. they don’t have time for this, remember? it’s stupid for him to feel guilt for it anyway. it’s not his fault he didn’t come back. it’s not his fault he got abducted by aliens. it’s certainly not his fault he was forced to become something else, fighting for a freedom that would never be granted to him. not too sure about that last one, shiro pushes all of it from his mind, bundling up his regrets per usual, instead firming his voice. ]
You didn’t. I’m here. We’re gonna get through this together.
[ keith holding tight and leaning into him feels…. nice. amazingly, for one single breath, the proximity staves off every terrible thing about where they are. reluctant to do it, shiro works his metal hand free of keith’s grip, though, and then he’s moving the boy, getting his arms under and around. it amazes him at times, that despite every doctor’s visit and terrible prognosis, his body doesn’t buckle when he desperately needs it to function. here, his arms don’t shake and his legs don’t give out. he lifts keith in a relatively fluid motion, getting to his feet. ]
Say it for me, Keith.
[ he spares a moment to look down at the boy held to his chest, before he lifts his gaze and starts the trek across the ice. ]
What are we gonna do?
no subject
but all of that is background noise to the much more grounding sensation of warmth.]
We're - we're gonna get through this.
[ together. not alone. not like he thought he was at the beginning of this bleak winter hellscape. and not like those months at the garrison that blended into one unending farce of normalcy.
together. fingers gripping a little harder, keith slurs. ]
Like how it used to be. Patience yields fo-fucs and stuff. And then with the lions and all.
[ thoughts jumbled, it's hard to say if any of that makes sense, but... ]
I miss Red. Red would always come for me. Just like you. But I... I don't wanna miss you again.
no subject
no. he’s going to be fine. shiro is going to make sure he’s fine.
he has half the mind to duck into the fishing cabin he was in earlier. it’s drafty, but it would block out the brunt of the wind and allow shiro to properly bundle keith up. at least for a little while; long enough to regenerate some heat and secure keith a better fighting chance of surviving the climb out of this basin.
… but the cabin – no, shack – is positioned on the ice. that creature is still out here. what if it regroups? what if it tries again? what if it focuses on shiro this time? to take out the only line of defense a severely compromised keith has?
shiro’s survived worse, but only because he’s had to survive it alone. the only concession he’s ever had to make is volunteering himself in a ploy to have matt ejected from the arena. considering the path that move set him on, shiro should resent having to take responsibility for anyone else. the thing is… he recognizes that teamwork is great. it’s wonderful having someone at your back, someone who can wholly be trusted to do right by you and your best interests. it’s all theory, though. shiro’s never had that dynamic in a life or death situation. he’s only taken care of himself. supposedly, he and keith have that in the future – as well as with three other paladins – but in practice…? no. shiro can spew words of being a team and partners over and over, but they haven’t been, not in this sense.
not until now. not until shiro’s held keith in his arms and felt the soul-deep fear of actually losing this boy. keith’s his best friend. losing him was always going to hurt, but maybe shiro underestimated it a little bit. maybe he thought he was too hardened by the gladiator pits to be this affected. ]
You won’t. I know you’re here now.
[ yeah. now. hindsight is 20/20 and he realizes his folly now: he should’ve looked for keith in town. he should’ve thought maybe, rather than immediately believing to be on his own again, already so willing to make that work that he hadn’t gone out of his way to check if keith had been pulled, too.
god, he’s such an idiot. ]
Don’t let me miss you, either, okay? I need you to pull through.
[ he’s almost to the lake’s shoreline. ice gives way to snow and it’s so incredibly wanted, that shiro dares to pick up the pace, moving as fast as he dares as not to slip with his precious cargo. ]
So why don’t you tell me about it? About how much you missed me before and why I should never do that to you again.
[ it’s a bit cruel of him to ask for it. part of him wants to know the details of keith’s life spent without him, but part of him doesn’t. his excuse here is that he needs keith to keep talking. to keep babbling, in order to keep himself awake. but if that’s all it’s for, he could have simply asked for details about red, right? ]
no subject
if he'd been smarter. if he'd listened to shiro's warnings. if he hadn't been so fucking entranced by a mysterious woman...
regret and blame easily take root as keith shivers and crowds his face even tighter into the hollow of shiro's throat. even that, he supposes, is parasitic in nature. shiro took off his coat and has to be cold himself, right? as irrational as it is, keith genuinely considers asking shiro to put him down so he can find warmth and safety for himself.
but... don't let me miss you, either. together. tell me about how you missed me. why i should never do that to you again.
keith closes his eyes, his breath chilly as he murmurs by shiro's jaw. ]
I can't remember.a lot of it, Shiro. They told us about the Kerberos mission and I think I just lost it completely. Iverson said something about a fatal pilot error, and it was like -- like hearing you died twice or something. I just couldn't believe it. Everything felt different, and it drove me crazy because everything, everyone was exactly the fucking same somehow. Like all these people kept acting like nothing was wrong.
[ sniffling, keith forces a deeper breath, his voice finding more strength out of sheer spite. ]
They held a memorial service for you, and Adam gave a speech even though he broke up with you way before the mission. And I -- I really wanted to hit him because he said he knew the mission was too risky for you, so... I did. And then next thing I knew, they threw me out and I felt like that was it. You believed in me so much and I couldn't live up to anything. So I just ... started feeling like I didn't even have a right to miss you anymore because I thought you wouldn't even be proud of me.
... ok. shiro has a lot of thoughts about galaxy garrison. don't mind my tl;dr
not that keith has been particularly cagey about it, but shiro simply hasn’t asked. he wanted to at one point. what was it like at base after the news broke? what did people say? what did people do? mostly though, the one question above the rest that's been on his mind for months is, did galaxy garrison put together a rescue mission? yes, of course they would. heh. he used to tell himself that in his cell. someone would come. you don't simply leave your assets behind to die. stupid, he knows. he knew it then, too. even if the scanners picked up a reading of the galran cruiser and sent a report back to earth, sending a retrieval crew that would take months to catch up to the site of abduction would lead to… what? nothing but wasted resources.
shiro wasn’t worth that much to the brass. dare he say, even the holts aren’t.
so shiro found himself holding the questions back out of spit, like refusing to ask what the brass did in the aftermath would somehow withhold giving them further power over his life. stupid again, he thinks, because he’s likely not even a thought in their brains anymore.
and look at that, he’s right: pilot error. what the actual fuck? that was their explanation? that’s how they swept this whole thing under the rug? the rational part of him, that is far too quiet in the moment, justifies that it’s entirely possible they didn’t know. the galra could have jammed the readings; scrambled whatever report the persephone kept pinging. maybe the brass truly believed shiro crashed. he was, afterall, a flight risk. his file has said that for years now.
… except they’d already landed and logged a report. galaxy garrison knew they’d successfully established contact on kerberos’ surface.
funny. shiro’s without a jacket and without a hat, and yet, he feels warmer. red hot rage boils his stomach and expands his ribcage, the icy breath in his lungs a distant discomfort for a grand total of ten running steps.
… but keith’s still talking and with every sniffle and stuttered word through lips that are catching a tint of blue, shiro loses the heat of his anger. not all of it. most of it. enough of it? enough to not snap at keith or sigh in frustrated disappointment. he wanted so much for keith. he warned him and he warned him, to watch his temper and stay the course. and what does he do?
–because i thought you wouldn’t even be proud of me.
the snow is harder to run through. it isn’t packed down and so, his boots kick up the top powder as he forces his own path toward the steep climb out of the basin. his breathing is labored, and yet, it’s automatic to find the breath for: ]
I am proud of you.
[ it rings true. it’s an irrefutable fact. ]
Maybe not for punching a commanding officer [ my ex, he amends in his head. ] – and getting yourself kicked out of the program but…
[ actually, there’s a part of shiro that is specifically proud of keith for those things. adam dumped him at an integral part of shiro’s life, so yeah, he’s a little sour. it doesn’t help that he recognizes that if he’d listened to adam, he wouldn’t have been abducted. that makes him more sour. aside from giving his ex a shiner, there’s also the whole fuck galaxy garrison that is running on repeat in a dark corner of shiro’s brain.
so proud? definitely.
for now though, shiro won’t congratulate keith on getting out of a program that holds no loyalty to its pilots. instead, he’ll settle on: ]
Even if I don't fully understand where life has taken you now with Voltron and all of that, I know you. You're someone amazing. [ he slows as he nears the base of the steep incline out of here. he pauses there, gaze shifting about in search of the easiest course to set; still, he continues to speak. ] You inspire me, y'know? Motivate me, too. You're one of the reasons that kept me going during… [ a wavering pause, a list of descriptors at his disposal. ] – my imprisonment.
[ he shakes his head and then hefts keith higher in his grip, holding him tighter to his chest, finally indulging for a glance down at his best friend. ]
What I'm saying is… never feel like I won't want you. I will never give up on you, remember that, okay?
his thoughts always make me so sad...
but during their brief stint in the abandoned city, the need for that crutch has faded. whether there's a time rift or if shiro is from a different reality altogether, it seemingly makes no difference. at leas tot keith, anyway. shiro is still his best friend and someone keith will fight fiercely to protect.
maybe it was stupid of keith to have never said that out loud because listening to shiro now, chiding yet deeply reassuring, it's hard not to wonder if he's fucked up in not saying this before. in fact, he probably has. in shiro's version of hte timeline, the last thing he remembers was being imprisoned. how long has it even been since he'd last seen a human face, ket alone keith's? deep down, maybe shiro too had been afraid that he'd been forgotten.
you're one of the reasons that kept me going during my imprisonment.
keith freezes. more figuratively than literally, but it isn't that far from he latter. his own shiro had said very little about imprisonment, let alone what he'd been thinking about during his darkest moments. keith swallows hard, willing away the numbing edge of winter cold burrowing into his skull to stay focused a little longer.
he looks up at shiro, holding his best friend's eye with a faint but earnest smile. ]
I'll remember.
[ and despite his arms feeling stiff with cold, keith adjusts to bump his fist to shiro's shoulder. ]
M'never giving up on you either. Ever. Never want to do that. Kept getting in trouble cuz I kept showing up in front of Iverson's office to ask why Garrison wasn't doing a rescue mission, y'know?
Just ... [ he breathes out, closing his eeyes as he hugs his arm back in tight to the core of his body. ]
Was worried about you all the time....
[ at least until practical considerations for human longevity in space with limited supplies had forced keith into a far deeper depression. ]
It's kinda wild, but after I got the boot, I still thought maybe I could find you. There was something in the desert that kept calling out to me. And there was this strange prophecy that predicted a mysterious arrival. It was you.
yes but just remember: he's fine
terrible timing, of course. he needs to be focused and he needs to be strong, two things he swiftly reminds himself as he forces his legs to move. the basin is, thankfully, not too deep. the climb will be arduous, but the elevation gain isn’t so high that it’ll take more than… well, the limited amount of time shiro has before keith or himself or both succumb to the elements. with no time to spare, shiro ought to save his breath as he starts up the incline, body already strained in keeping his balance when his arms are occupied.
but shiro is foolish with curiosity, his breath wasted as he puffs out: ]
So I made it back to Earth.
[ initially, keith said he escaped the galra and warned them of the galra wanting to come to earth, but even if implied, he never actually said where it happened. it’s only now that shiro goes out of his way to seek the confirmation. even so, shiro has to catch himself from laughing incredulously; a prophecy predicted his arrival? his? why would he matter in the grand scheme of things? more likely, the prophecy was predicting the arrival of a warmongering, alien race. ]
And then we left to man that thing called Voltron.
[ thing. team? war machine? shiro has yet to fully comprehend what it is that he, supposedly, becomes in the future. he’ll get there in due time. for now, however, he thinks a little before that, of galaxy garrison and an array of affiliated people. ]
… Did, um…
[ he winds around a tree trunk, finding the snow to be icier directly under the branches. it gives him better footing for a few steps, before his calves sink down again into the softer packed snow. ]
Did I contact anyone before we left?
WHY ARE YOU LYING.
or maybe it has nothing to do with that at all. making it back to earth has a particular connotation of making it back home. and it's the wind-like needles against every inch of exposed skin, that keith finally allows himself to succumb to a heavy pang in his chest.
home.
in all those months of space and then being trapped in the empty city, it never felt like he'd left too much behind. especially with shiro there, fully witin his reach to keep an eye on, keith would only occasionally wonder about the state of his dad's cabin. would it still be standing when or if he gets home? will it still be his or will it be overrun with wildlife or taken over by some idiots adventuring through the desert?
but now, even those concerns seem far away. there was always so much more to the world he left behind. the way the sun lit up the desert in the morning and kissed it goodbye at night, the canyons, the thunderstorms and the petrochore, the stars, the wind in his hair whenever he took is hoverbike out for a ride...
none of these things had been important people in his life, like friends or family, but the thought of never seeing any of his former life again makes keith ache. staying quiet for an extended beat, keith scrunches up his face, burying it in the hollow of shiro's throat. ]
...No. There wasn't any time. You crash-landed in a Galra fighter jet and the Garrison came to investigate pretty quick. Dunno what happened, but by the time I found you the Garrison had you sedated and strapped to a gurney. So I busted you out and took you back to you know... my shack. Then when you woke up, you told me you needed to go find Voltron before the Galra could get to it, so we went out and found Blue. But then Blue took us through a wormhole and we ended up millions of light-years away from Earth.
[ voice growing progressively quiet, keith blinks slowly, struggling to re-focus. ]
So... you didn't get to tell your grandpa you're okay. I hope he's okay.
[ a beat, then even more quietly. ]
.. think I want my ashes spread over the desert, one day. Never told anyone that though.
ok the tl;dr this time isn't my fault. it's the timeskip's.
or perhaps shiro’s initial reaction is too quick and too cruel. perhaps, instead, he should congratulate this future version, for having the foresight not to reappear in his grandfather’s life, only to disappear an hour later.
it’s for the best, he tells himself. his grandfather wouldn’t recognize what shiro has become anyway. shiro isn’t the same man who left earth, so can he ever truly say i’m back?
i hope he’s okay.
shiro mumbles in agreement, his words inadequate for the moment in time. his mind is drifting as he keeps climbing another step, two steps, and onto three, only for him to snap out of his own forlorn self-pity when keith’s voice breaks through again. now, shiro has done a decent job of not shaking this boy for his foolishness of the past hour. keith has given shiro plenty reason to be worried, exasperated, angry, annoyed… but he’s stayed steadfast in his patient temperament. until now.
now he jostles him in his arms, only to squeeze him right back into his chest as he snaps a hard stare down at him. ]
Don’t you dare start. No one is doing anything with your ashes any time soon.
[ his voice carries a snap to it, one that lets up, marginally, when he exhales heavily, muttering under his breath. ]
Ashes. Christ, Keith.
[ in another time, in another frame of mind, shiro would take that confession with far more grace. he might have even agreed that being dusted out in the sunbaked dirt of arizona would be a peaceful sort of resting place. but shiro has no patience for death right now; not keith’s, not even in theory.
it does the trick. keith backs off the topic with a vaguely considerate sorry and then he’s babbling some more, this time about their previous residence. and then their consciousnesses. and then about how these bodies may not even be their real bodies or bodies at all, that their consciousnesses are simply blowing around in the wind, moving from one reality to the next.
i’d like to be blown by you.
– wait, what?
with. heh, think i might’ve said some… thing…
keith’s fading and then keith’s shaking, because shiro is giving him another jostle in his arms. it seems to snap some awareness back into the boy, enough to blink his eyes open in a desynchronized way. it won’t be enough, though. shiro knows he’s running out of time. so he does what he should have done before: shelves his curiosity and bottles any thought for himself, putting all his focus and breath into climbing up this damn hillside.
he makes good time. is it enough, though? keith’s still breathing by the time they crest the top. shiro’s an odd combination of cold and overheated: he’s sweaty underneath his minimal layers, the exertion of both the climb and the pace taxing his system. it’s not enough to stop him. he keeps pushing. keeps enduring. he’s certainly frozen in places, like his cherry-red ears that stick out too far, but if he suffers a bit of numbness, it’s well worth it, as long as he gets keith inside the cabin.
yes, the cabin.
shiro claimed himself one of the abandoned residences. this morning, in fact. out of the lodge and into his own home base. it’s a rundown, drafty thing, the inside a cluttered mess of old furniture and once treasured knickknacks, but it will do. or would, before he realized keith was here. shiro’s hardly spent any time in it, only glancing through it long enough to decide that the roof is sound and the locks work before he’d gathered his things to try for some fish. it’s not the furthest cabin from the center of town but it is toward the outskirts. in any other situation, it would not be ideal, but in this one? it means he reaches it faster.
his left hand is numb, even in his glove, but his right works well in grasping the knob to turn it open. balancing keith throughout it is a challenge, so he mostly kicks the door open the rest of the way before shouldering the two of them inside. the door gets the same treatment for a kick closed and then shiro is promptly heading to the olive couch, where he’s thrown two blankets collected from methuselah.
first things first: get keith stripped down and bundled up, then shiro can work on getting him situated somewhere comfortable. for now, the couch it is. ]
Keith.
[ the babbling stopped some time ago and while shiro has done his best to monitor him throughout the trek, it’s only now that he can truly stop, look, and assess him. the lighting is low in the cabin, something shiro fixes with a flick on of a lantern. lifting it from the dining table, shiro holds the lantern in one hand and turns back to keith, who’s already deposited there on the couch. ]
Keith. Hey. Time to wake up, sleepyhead.
[ god, it was meant to be a joke: lighthearted and anxiety-breaking. but it only makes his gut clench. ]
We’re gonna get you warm now.
[ crouching down, he sets the lantern on the floor and then gets to work on keith’s frost covered boots. fuck, laces are hard to untie when they’re icy. ]
Patched up, too. How’s that sound, buddy?
( ooc:
→ cabin reference pictures
outside and inside; disregard the tipi
bedroom )
always something else's fault, TSK.
stay awake and keep talking. those were the two things shiro had demanded from him, and truthfully, keith isn't sure when he'd closed his eyes and let the flow of words turn into unintelligible mumbling and then silence.
but at some point, he must've blinked out of consciousness because he wakes up lying on a couch to someone jostling his stiff legs. ]
Dad...?
[ the word is slurred as keith furrows his brow to blink open his eyes. but of course, this isn't his couch back in his desert shack and his father has been dead for many years now. the mistake would be embarrassing, if his thoughts could coalesce fast enough to process complex emotion. instead, he shivers violently from head to toes, and coughs as he breathes in a lungful of warmer air. ]
Oh. Shiro....
[ the name is said with an absentminded kind of fondness as keith's gaze swivels down to his boots. he smiles slowly, stiffly, as the cold muscles of his face work through the motion. ]
Heh. I knew it. Knew you'd find a way.
[ really, keith ought to be asking where they are, but the thing is? it doesn't matter. shiro brought him here which means this is where he's supposed to be. he heaves a deep breath as color slowly returns to his lips. ]
You alwways do. That's your thing.
i am blameless 8c
ah. no. shiro pauses in what he’s doing, looking to keith’s face and watching the boy come back to awareness. they’ve known each other for a few years now and over that time, shiro has heard keith mention his dad, maybe, a handful of times. shiro has a basic understanding of what happened; both from the occasional detail from keith and shiro’s further digging through other resources. shiro never quite forgets that keith is a product of a broken family and a tarnished childhood spent largely within the system, but he does tend to downplay it, given how sharp keith’s mind is and how bright his future promises to be. promised to be? past tense?
shiro feels a pang of sorrow, part curious, but mostly worried about what must have been playing in keith’s mind to prompt him to wake up with a mumbling for his father. keith course corrects a few moments later and still, the sorrow aches in shiro’s chest. keith believes so earnestly. dare shiro say, keith believes in him more than shiro does himself. it’s as encouraging as it is humbling; shiro desperately wanting to do everything in his power to be worthy of that kind of faith.
so he pulls his gaze away and gets back to working those laces loose. he pinches and pulls, refusing to let his fingers fumble. ]
Yeah, well… know what your thing is?
[ both pairs of laces undone, he pulls one boot off and then starts wiggling the other, working keith’s foot free. the posed question is only given a moment’s gap; shiro not actually asking for an answer, because he has his own to offer. ]
Not letting anyone or anything push you around. You’re not gonna let the cold beat you.
[ or that damn thing in the water. that tooth is still wedged into keith’s boot and while shiro gives it a passing glance, he doesn’t bother analyzing it beyond that. later, he thinks. he has a more important task to see through. ]
It’ll be easier when I get you out of these wet clothes and under some blankets. [ the heavy wool socks are wet and soggy; pulled off and deposited on the floor, they make a soft splatting noise. ] Just bear with me a little longer, okay?
[ it’s a roundabout way of asking for permission to strip him down. no, not permission, because shiro will do it regardless. it’s a warning. he’ll preserve keith’s modesty as best he can, but given the circumstance, shiro can’t spare too much concern for it. so he’s already scooting across the floor, crouching closer to keith’s midsection where he pushes his shirt higher so he can get to the fastenings of his pants. ]
...i suppose in this ONE instance.
keith blinks slowly, still caught up in disorientation as he muddles through what shiro says and what that actually means. getting out of these layers upon layers of wet clothing makes sense, of course, but then ... wouldn't that mean shiro is going to see him with nothing on? isn't that kinda ... weird?
certainly, keith can't muster the brainpower to unpack that any further. it's weird, and it's weird that he's finding it weird because there's still a chance this whole winter wasteland is just a simulation and why did someone take the time to program all the details of his body for him to be feeling weird about incorporeal reality in the first place? hiccuping an involuntary laugh, keith brings his hands up to his chest, numb fingers moving down to feel for the button of his salvaged ski pants. ]
You're pushing me around.
[ delirious, keith actually fucking giggles as he fumbles with uselessly with the button. ]
Err.. pushing my shirt? I dunno, that was funnier in my head. Because you said the thing and now you're telling me to just bear with it, even though that's not supposed to be my thing.
[ with one final botched attempt to command manual dexterity from his gloved hands, keith lets them fall to his sides and sighs. ]
Promise you won't laugh at my body?
c: ! also i cannot believe you are harassing me via keith and his three pants
one good thing about having a metal hand? it doesn’t carry the stiffness of his mitt-covered, yet deeply frozen fingers. despite all the ill-deeds committed with it, the galra technology is a marvel on any given day, shiro has to concede to that fact. however, he’s surprised at how well it holds up in these temperatures. no failures in movement, no malfunction of components – the prosthetic doesn’t carry the power that he’s more familiar with in the arena, but it at least keeps a functionality that shiro can count on.
another thing shiro can count on? promise you won’t laugh at my body? keith being nonsensical again. ]
I’d never laugh at you for something like that.
[ they’re best friends… or something. they were before. sometimes, it feels too presumptuous to keep assuming that to be true when shiro is neither the future version this keith knows, nor the past version that initially left him. shiro isn’t even certain he can say he’s something in-between those two; he’s someone else. a prisoner. a victor. the champion.
he gives his head a little shake to disperse those thoughts, refocusing his attention. ]
Besides, you’re… you know. [ he pulls the zipper down, not exactly sure where he’s meant to look. ] You grew up.
[ he’s gained some inches while shiro’s been away. leaned out with a good amount of muscle, none of which is noticeable here under bulky winter gear, but before, in that city… shiro noticed. it’s there, too, in the sharp angles of his face, not quite as soft as before, now that he’s grown into his maturity. as far as shiro is concerned, keith has little reason to be insecure about his body.
… another pair of pants, though? okay, that gets a surprised huff of an almost laugh, before he simply moves his hands to grasp the waistline of the top layer, beginning to peel it down. ]
i am merely being accurate??
but then.... ]
I grew up?
[ again, keith blinks slowly, processing that as he lifts his hips up an inch to help with the undressing. if he sounds incredulous, it's because he feels it to his core. ]
But I.. I'm still short? Shortest guy on the team and all.
[ which doesn't bother him, necessarily? but all the smale, he frowns, wrinkling his nose as he contemplates. ]
... and I don't have nice, big muscles like you.
... i suppose i cannot argue w that
maybe kids teased him about it. kids are mean and far too shortsighted to understand the repercussions of shitty insults. keith had been particularly small; scruffy and too stubbornly tough to push around, but small all the same. now though? well, he’s got some of the longest legs, something shiro has to take note of as he works those pants down, down, down.
ever careful of the area that’s under ripped fabric, shiro gets each leg free and –
… and i don't have nice, big muscles like you.
he tosses the pants to the floor and immediately returns to keith’s waistline, never once meeting keith’s eyes as he begins pulling that lighter layer down. ]
Trust me, not having muscles like me is a blessing.
[ bulk like this has to be built, not just through sweat, but with blood, too. keith is far better off just as he is. ]
c:
or maybe the chill has more to do with the way shiro's smile disappears. keith goes quiet, frown deepening as he lifts his hips to help shed another layer of pants. ]
That's not true. I know cuz when you were holding me? It felt really nice.
[ nice. big. ha. what is he doing recycling lame adjectives? repressing another whole body shiver, keith carefully puts his gloved hand on shiro's forearm. ]
I felt so safe. I.. never really felt that before. I mean, obviously, we can talk about anything and everything, but it felt even more real somehow. I like it.
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god, really? a third pair? shiro’s roots are in florida, but even with heat and humidity marking his childhood, as well as the beginning of his teens, he doesn’t share keith’s aversion to the cold. he remembers it now, though, how keith would shiver and layer everything he had when they’d hoverbike in the winter months. shiro had to loan his jacket out to keith a few times then, too.
again, fingers dig underneath the waistband, but then he pauses. he pauses because keith gets a hand on him and… that does it. reflex has shiro glancing to keith’s face, briefly meeting those eyes.
… now that’s different. shiro’s never put it in that sort of perspective. a weak body made strong through experimentation and bloodsport, forced to become a weapon on two legs… that, miraculously, has come to the aid of his best friend. shiro of galaxy garrison wouldn’t have been able to keep keith safe. he’d trained months and months to physically, as well as mentally, prepare himself for extended space travel, true, but that younger version of himself wouldn’t have had the endurance to carry one-fifty plus pounds of boy out of a snowy basin. neither would he have had the threatening demeanor to scare off that fucking creature.
shiro isn’t so bold to say it was worth it. everything – his horrid deeds, his suffering, his loss of identity. but the heavy weight that is a near constant in the center of his chest, lifts in the moment, allowing him one shaky, gobsmacked breath as he loses focus of his scathing self-flagellation.
but time doesn’t freeze and reality rolls on. he pulls his arm away in favor of working that last pair of pants down, getting them off and to the floor to join the pile. ]
That’s good.
[ maybe. probably. again, he’s a few steps shy of giving his past any leeway. in fact, he purposely takes this opportunity to deflect. ]
Because until your temp is up, I’m thinking we’re going to need to bundle you in more than just blankets.
[ speaking of which: with keith now bare from the waist down, shiro grabs one of the blankets slung over the back of the couch, draping it over keith's lap, both for modesty and warmth. with that, he’s scooting along again, soon getting his hands under keith's armpits to heft him into a sitting position, so he can get the top layers off next. ]
Think you can take cuddling with me for a bit?
that edit reason made me sputer LOL
he doesn't exactly fight shiro when he's forced upright and out of the beginings of a tight fetal position, but he groans as he's made to sit up and lose the drape of blanket around his shoulders. getting out of the soaked sweater is obviously for the best, but the loss of even a tiny comfort brings a hopeless pout to his face.
not that it lats long. how could it? the suggestion of cuddling is so entirely unexpected that keith goes owlish in his surprise. ]
Uh, you mean... like with us sharing the blanket?
[ because the whole clothes situation makes that weird, doesn't it? or is it again, weird because it's a silly hang-up to be having when he's trying to avoid becoming an ice cube? keith blinks, staring for an extended beat before belatedly remembering to help by gingerly tugging the wet gloves off his hands. ]
I mean... I guess it'd be weird if you weren't under the blanket too because then you'd just get cold and then we'd be caught in an infinite cuddle loop....
[ he trails off, uncertain of how much sense that actually makes, but comes to terms with the seeming inevitability. on the plus side of having his core temperature drop, blushign is impossible. ]
... so it'll be like a bonding moment.
IT'S WHAT YOU SAID!
Yeah.
[ it’s easier to agree than to pick apart, not that keith is particularly wrong in his conclusion. a bonding moment, sure, yeah. near death moments and subsequent solutions, rushed on the fly, have a way of forcing people closer.
for the record? keith didn’t answer the question. all of that sounds like a roundabout way of convincing himself to be okay with it. understandable, really; shiro does get it. feeling safe in his arms, liking the proximity – all those nice things keith said not more than thirty seconds ago are all well and dandy, until nudity becomes a factor.
even in his wavering lucidity, keith seems to be well-aware of what shared body heat will require from both of them. ]
I don’t want to make you uncomfortable… [ he says as he works the hem up of keith’s black sweater. ] … but we don’t have a lot of options here.
[ shiro could, maybe, get by himself by starting a fire and warming himself over time. but keith’s been soaked to the bone. he needs the fire, the blankets, and the semi-frozen, but hopefully adequate body heat shiro can provide. so off comes the sweater and now they’re halfway through the layers; two more to go. ]
YES WELL!!!
M'never uncomfortable. Not with you.
[ or at least, that's how their relationship used to feel back when he was in his own reality, armed with the full confidence of knowing exactly where his standing with shiro was. this shiro, who may come from a different point in time or a different reality altogether, is a little different.
but then again, maybe not. they protect each other. they save each other. none of that has fundamentally changed across space-time, and something about that is immensely soothing, even to keith's hypothermic soul.
as if to demonstrate that point, he drops the gloves, one after another, onto the floor and peels off his wet turtleneck himself, wincing as he lifts his arms overhead. ]
You're my best friend.
[ a pause as keith works through the stiffness in his shoulders before peeling off his t-shirt afterwards. ]
And my brother.
[ with the last of his clothes now shed, keith shivers and lifts the blanket up higher to cover more of his exposed torso. the fact that there is some truly bizarre logic going on if being brothers makes shared blanket cuddles acceptable is evidently entirely lost on keith. he smiles in earnest, like he's genuinely trying to be reassuring. ]
i rest my case
and my brother.
shiro has no authority to judge keith for blurring the lines between him and the shiro he’s known, because shiro is just as guilty. he’s well aware that they don’t fit together as they used to, but keith is keith and shiro is, as always, intrinsically drawn to this boy, no matter what version he is.
so shiro is a lost cause in the moment. he takes that shirt from keith – only marginally recognizing it, judgment withholding from how inadequate a flimsy t-shirt is for warmth in a snowy tundra – and then he’s dropping it to the floor, hands now reaching for keith. is he going to help situate that blanket? no. is he going to clasp his shoulders for his patented squeeze of encouragement? no. he gathers this naked, bundled boy in his arms and hugs him in. the seating arrangement makes it awkward, so it won’t be held for long. just long enough for shiro to commit it to memory as he confesses softly: ]
You’re like family to me, too. [ a brief tightening of his grip to punctuate the way keith feels in his arms and an even quieter: ] So important. [ before he lets go.
a deep, steadying breath and then: ]
Okay.
[ enough of that…? he doesn’t necessarily mean to be dismissive. the terror of almost losing keith has bled him dry of his usual defenses. they aren’t even guaranteed to be out of the woods yet, either. for how anxiety ridden he’s been for the past however long, ever since stepping out of that fishing shack to see keith, it seems stupid to be caught up in anxiety for his honesty, too. none of this is new. of course keith is his best friend, his brother, his family. of course he’s important. it’s been a long time since shiro’s dared to say any of his vulnerabilities out loud, though. the galra aren’t here. the druids, the witch, the bastards who oversee the arena… none of them are here to hear his whispers and use such things against him.
but even still, the hairs on the back of his neck prickle and shiro takes his breathing room to come down from a panic that is purely being worked up by his own overactive imagination.
back to work, he tells himself, and now he’s pushing up, getting to his feet. ]
Let me get the bedroom ready and then we’ll do one more move before getting you toasty and warm.
[ there are two fireplaces in this cabin – one here in the living area and one in the bedroom. there is also a wood burning stove that shiro, thankfully, had the foresight to get going before he left this morning. the space is far too large for that stove to properly heat the entire cabin, but at least it’s kept it semi-livable. ]
Give me a few minutes.
[ he’ll help keith lie back down and fix the blankets over him before he goes. next, it’s grabbing two logs from the makeshift pile he threw together by the door and then off to the bedroom. ]
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it's a shame, then, that shiro is quick to let go. his best friend draws back, leaving keith to blink up slowly but happily. ]
Okay.
[ a few minutes, heh. shiro can have all the time he wants in the world because he's one of the few people keith can actually stand to be patient for. but he does gingerly put one foot down on the floor, reluctant to completely come out of the fetal position, but ready to abandon the instinct all the same if...: ]
You're sure you don't want help?
[ the fact that shiro is already on the move is probably answered enough, but keith calls out after himm to be double sure. ]
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No, I’m fine. You focus on staying warm.
[ or more accurately, getting warm. he almost hesitates, a nagging feeling in his head that he can’t let keith out of his sight. not yet. not until the numbness is gone. but he keeps on in his strides, telling himself that he’ll have keith gathered up and bundled up in more covers soon enough. he just needs to get the comforter pulled back and the fire going, first.
speaking of which… he crouches low to set the logs in the fireplace. not that he does much else to get it ready. there’s plenty of junk in this cabin to use as kindling, so there’s no issue there. he’s found matches, too. the hold up is, simply, that he has to head back out to the wood burning stove to grab them.
before that, though? he gets back to his feet and steps to the bed. it’s – disorganized, is the best word for it. or maybe messy is. it’s rumbled and unmade, too many blankets piled, making the mattress look lumpy. one, large pillow remains at the headboard, but it’s matching set is askew.
clearly, the bed has been slept in. duh. the cabin, at one point, was lived in, so no surprise there. if they weren’t dealing with freezing temperatures and minimal timeframes, it’d be prudent to wash the sheets. that’s obviously not an option, so the next best thing is to find a clean, extra set and simply change the sheets. shiro doesn’t get far enough to seriously consider this. the furthest he gets is finding the edge of the comforter and pulling it back.
it’s then that he starts yelling.
quick, loud, and without any structure as far as words go, it’s merely sound. surprised, panicked… that’s shiro in a nutshell as he finds himself staring down at a corpse. did he die recently? or has the cold preserved him? the body hasn’t withered and deteriorated too extensively, which is… what? a good thing? a bad thing? shiro’s seen numerous corpses before, some in this very town and some that he’s made himself. so the yelling won’t last long. one short burst and a drop of the comforter as he shuffles back two steps, that’s the extent of his outburst, though, his heart rate will continue to race as he cycles through some deep breaths. ]
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and now? maybe the f-word isn't as loaded with mixed feelings as it used to be. they're family to each other and having it said out loud makes keith feel a pinch giddy, though that could still be the hypothermia talking.
he would have been content to muse on that with a dorkily vacant smile, but all of a sudden there's yelling in the other room and keith's heart just fucking stops entirely. suddenly it doesn't matter that he's cold, numb and naked. he springs up to his feet, swiping the blanket out of the way to grab the first pointy antique figurine he lays his eyes on, and sprints to the bedrom. ]
Shiro, hang on!
[ never mind that actually being of help in this situation might have required a bit more preparation. keith rounds the corner into the bedroom, ready to gore whatever danger has appeared in the eye, but doesn't find any immediate threat.
in fact, it's shiro standing there alarmed but whole, and then in the bed? ]
Holy shit.
[ caught by surprise, keith drops the antique, which hits the ground hard and spas off the horn. ]
i cannot believe this is happening
it’s a testament to how gaudy that statue is that shiro even notices it when keith is right there with it, all pale skin and lithe muscle. two seconds, not even; just long enough for shiro to blink through renewed surprise and then he promptly forgets about the figurine, barely even caring to look as its dropped to the floor. he starts to track it, honestly. but dropping his gaze has it snagging on something else long before it reaches the floor.
right.
keith’s naked.
meaning?
a specific part of him is very much hanging out right now.
which wouldn’t necessarily be a problem. they’re family. brothers. best friends. anatomy is anatomy. it’s nothing new or shocking. just because shiro is gay doesn’t mean seeing dick instantly gets him… – whatever, he’s not even going to finish thinking that. he’s not going to think either, about how long it’s been since he’s seen someone else’s dick. in fact, the only thing he’s thinking now is that he got it wrong before: this is new and this is shocking.
so shiro will top that holy shit with a higher strung: ]
Oh fuck – Keith. It’s purple.
[ mercifully, he doesn’t go with your cock. it is, though. purple. how, sounds off next in his head, his expression absolutely horrified. is it possible that all of keith escaped frostbite except his dick? ]
neither can i....
for anyone reading this, this is maru's fault
ARE YOU NOT COMPLICIT.
I AM A VICTIM HERE
BUT I AM ALSO INNOCENT??
NO YOU AREN'T, see above
you are an unreliable source!!!
denying the truth by throwing me under the bus, tsk
you say this like you aren't the one who tried to put me on blast!!
shhh i don't know what you're speaking of
uh huh uh huh SURE.
/a good truthful bean
doooooubt.
;; but the hydro
... i can't argue with the hydro. it is perfect in every way.
ofc it is. it is full of babies.
;; it is a work of art
i just don't know how juniper and jupiter are going to fit on there
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what is happening
help /o\
it's too late for that
i am just going to keep my eyes closed
that won't save you... it never does
SHHH
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omg you actually did shush LOL
YOU TOLD ME TO???
I SUPPOSE, but ... /uhshushes
/insert yelling now that i am unshushed
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*I* on the other hand, did not tell you to shush AND YET
... i always forget about subject lines