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.
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.
no subject
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....
when did this guy die? how did he die? and what are they going to do about his body?
but the immortal words it's purple shortcircuit all adrenaline-fueled progress back to some semblance of logic and reason. following shiro's line of sight downwards, keith freezes in place, mouth dropping open in a silent scream.
hypothermia isn't flattering on the skin. in fact, his extremities have taken on a faint purple undertone, but nothing quite like what's going on with the distinct lavender of his dick. granted, there'd always been a faint but large lavender birthmark there, but seeing it exaggerated in intensity is something else.
it takes only a second for that silent scream to become an actual audible yelp as keith slaps his hands over the front of his crotch and squawks: ]
There's a literal dead guy in the bed and you're ogling my dick like that's the weirdest thing in the room?!
[ indignant, embarrassed and hurt, keith narrowly avoids stepping on the snapped-off horn as he runs out of the bedroom. ]
for anyone reading this, this is maru's fault
too bad keith is bolting from the room. good to see that the functionality of his body is coming back, though; that’s already a big improvement from the stiff limbs and shaking frame keith had been not too terribly long ago. ]
I wasn’t ogling! [ he shouts after him, boots rooted to the floor. ] I’m worried!
[ it’s an important distinction to make, one that he is adamant about, even though his gaze does catch a glimpse of one very firm, very perky backside. that wasn’t ogling, either. it’s not his fault if reflex has him looking when keith flashes his ass at him. ]
Keith! Come back!
[ actually – forget it. deciding to ditch this cursed room, shiro forces his legs to move as he follows with quickened steps, sidestepping the dehorned unicorn as well. he’s a good chunk behind keith; far enough that keith is back on the couch and working on hiding himself under the blanket when shiro catches up. ]
We have to do something about that before it causes permanent damage.
ARE YOU NOT COMPLICIT.
retracing his steps, he finds himself back on the couch, rolled into a ball with the blanket tightly draped around himself like the world beyond it will simply go away. it's even warm like this with nothing but his heart beating loudly in his ears and face flushed hot.
not that shiro takes the cue not to follow. keith groans, tucking his limbs in tighter as he mutters: ]
I'm not ddamaged, Shiro.
[ voice thick with defensiveness wrought over the years, the scowling pout on his face is easy to imagine despite not being visible. ]
It's just like that, okay?
I AM A VICTIM HERE
which is baffling. because how can those tiny things be fine when they’ve been wedged in waterlogged socks and shoes, one of which had a fucking tooth embedded, just shy of stabbing through, when keith’s privates are…
it’s just like that, okay?
there is so much to unpack from this day. see, shiro is standing here, a few feet short of the couch, still in his snow dusted clothes, a little numb himself. he needs to take care of himself, too, but does he? no. because there’s a dead body behind him, in the bed that shiro intended to sleep in at some point and there’s a possibly frostbitten boy in front of him, hiding under a blanket, sounding put out that shiro is concerned for him.
… because he isn’t actually frostbitten?
shiro stares, looking perplexed and lost in the moment as he slowly works toward a: ]
… What do you mean it’s just like that?
BUT I AM ALSO INNOCENT??
as tempting as it is to withdraw into himself and throw out a more stubborn non-answer like what do you mean what do i mean?, the prospect of a prolonged discussion on this topic is actual torture.
feeling thoroughly disgruntled, keith lets out an irritable huff before finally acquiescing with a resigned: ]
I mean I was born like this. [ a beat. ] I know it's ugly and weird. Can we stop talking about it now?
NO YOU AREN'T, see above
first things first. one, two – the moments tick by in a heavy layer of silence and then shiro gives an audibly reluctant: ]
Okay.
[ color variations are, of course, a thing. it’s just… that looked a little too purple to be anything other than constricted blood vessels and shitty circulation. it’s not his place to decide that he knows keith’s body better than he does himself, though, so: ]
If you’re sure it’s not… y’know, the cold.
[ it sounds lame. he sounds lame. hearing himself, he promptly clears his throat and resists the urge to shuffle his feet. that would only make this whole thing feel even more awkward than it already is. assuring keith that his cock isn’t ugly or weird would also, probably, make this weirder, too, huh? oddly enough, it feels wrong to leave that undisputed, but shiro simply settles on a very simple: ]
Just… sorry. [ a sigh. ] I didn’t mean to make you feel bad. I was caught off guard by you and… the other thing.
[ which he will need to deal with somehow and sometime. later, he thinks as his gaze drifts toward the pile of logs. ]
you are an unreliable source!!!
it's difficult to ponder too long on what the right thing is to say though, when cold is the thought that takes up the most space in his head. despite being covered up though, keith still feels wholly weird about giving his dick another proper look while shiro is still physically present. ]
What are we doing about the body?
[ the question comes quietly, keith sounding almost defeated by his own inability to come up with a smooth transition between subjects. ]
denying the truth by throwing me under the bus, tsk
Nothing. We’re leaving it for now.
[ and shiro is leaving keith as he is now, too. he doesn’t peel back the blanket to get a look at him. in fact, he doesn’t even step any closer to him huddled there on the couch. instead, shiro starts moving toward the pile of logs, set on starting that fire. ]
I’ll deal with it later. Getting you warm is far more important… which we can accomplish just as well out here.
[ whether keith peeks out to watch him or is content to gauge shiro’s movements by the sound of his boots clunking across the wood floor, shiro doesn’t actually check. his gaze is set on the task of gathering logs and walking to the fireplace, all the while making note that he’ll need to push that coffee table out of the way and drag the couch closer. ]
Good thing I scouted out a cabin with two fireplaces, huh?
[ he sets the logs down and opens the screen, then beginning to make a pile on the hearth. ]
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