singillppl | August 2023 Test Drive Meme

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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

ARRIVAL: METHUSELAH'S FEAST

1. Items characters have brought from home can be found either strewn around them when they awaken, or in the community hall — as if someone left them out for them to collect. Methuselah will not know how they got there, and will be quite bemused by the happenings.

2. Reminder that all characters are now depowered upon arrival. They can choose not to notice it at first, or can immediately sense something is different about them.

3. If asked any personal questions, Methuselah will smile and say "Oh, you don't want to know about an old man like me. But I have lived all over in these parts for all my life." He will be more concerned with trying to help Newcomers, and is genuinely concerned for them and their well-being.

4. If asked how he knew that the Newcomers were arriving, he concedes that although it is a strange thing to know, it is much like how one knows a storm is coming.

HOPE NOBODY NEEDS THIS ANYMORE

1. Characters are welcome to take up residency in any of the homes of Milton. Methuselah will strongly advise characters to leave a huge, dilapidated house — known as Milton House — well alone, due to extensive fire damage.

2. More information about Milton can be found here.

THE SIREN OF MILTON BASIN

1. Characters with hearing impairments will not be susceptible to the Siren's song, or may only be somewhat susceptible depending, but may be entranced to a degree by looking at the Siren. However, this will be far easier to snap out of.

2. The Siren cannot be killed, only fought off. She will disappear for a length of time to recover before she attempts to lure her next victim.

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

[ exhaustion makes it far easier to be lulled into complacency. the fact that his thoughts keep taking strange twists and turns certainly helps that along as well. but more than anything else it's the easy smile on shiro's face that keeps keith loose and relaxed on the couch throughout the oddity of being undressed. shiro wouldn't laugh at his maybe-real, maybe-fake body, and that's everything keith needs to hear on the subject.

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.

[ of all things to be concerned about… – shiro may have laughed if the situation were different. namely, if keith wasn’t delirious and at a continued risk of hypothermia. briefly, he thinks back on those statues of the team members; he hadn’t thought to compare heights at the time. is that really such a big deal to keith? must be, if he’s mentioning it at all.

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. ]

[ with the bulky ski pants gone, a fresh wave of gooseflesh prickles keith's skin. the insulation those pants had provided had been soaked through, sure, but they'd still offered a modicum of protection and without it, keith feels even smaller in his exposure.

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.

[ felt really nice? what, when keith was ninety-percent numb and literally freezing to death? the sound that catches in shiro’s throat is dismissive, as is the little grimace to his mouth. afterwards, he feels stupid and jaded and flat out cruel for making a mockery of keith’s words. he has no excuse for it, other than it is involuntary in execution; it being, of course, how any and every draw of attention to his changed body makes him volatile. he’s always had an unhealthy perception of his own body – comes with the territory of growing up sick and remaining sick – but now it’s become something entirely out of his control weather. so there is no subtly in how his gaze keeps distance. he remains perturbed and unyielding, still stubbornly keeping himself from meeting keith’s eyes as he gets that second pair of pants off.

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?

Edited (keith wears no dead man's undies) 2023-09-09 02:51 (UTC)

[ with all of his pants removed, keith grimaces and draws his legs up closer in an attempt to conserve heat. the m effort doesn't achieve much, so it's a good thing that shiro pulls the blanket down over his bottom half. keith actually gasps, paradoxically shivering and tugging the dry insulation close.

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.

[ the top layers come off much quicker. the jacket is easy, so is the beanie, both of which are shiro’s, actually. there is no separation, though; they get thrown into the same pile as keith’s pants. keith’s helping – or trying to – as he picks off his gloves and babbles along, something about shiro being cold, infinite cuddle loops, and surprise bonding moments. it’s as disorganized as everything else keith has said the past hour and so, shiro approaches it with the same tired patience. ]

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. ]

[ i don't want to make you uncomfortable. that earns shiro an instant frown, as keith corrects: ]

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. ]

[ as keith becomes more actively engaged in doing the undressing, shiro backs off; too many hands tend to slow the entire process. so, he does little things here and there: touching keith’s back to support him as he lifts his arms high, taking the shirt from him when he pulls it off, ensuring the blanket doesn’t shift too much through any of the movements. keith’s saying sweet, heartfelt things and shiro is suddenly in an odd spot. he likes hearing that keith isn’t uncomfortable with him and that he still considers him his best friend, but nothing is ever easy for shiro to accept. not anymore. doubt is a common companion these days. shiro has to wonder if this keith is talking to him or if he’s talking to the shiro of his time, of his reality, of his memories.

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. ]

[ truth be told, the odd positioning of the embrace barely registers with keith. being pulled in close where he gets to hear that shiro considers him family as well is everything. where the cold had drawn him into a numb fade out of consciousness, this is like being drawn into a comfortable zen -- a rare moment in which the universe actually makes perfect sense.

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. ]

[ yeah. shiro being on the move should be an adequate answer on its own. more so, him stepping into the bedroom. he does, however, call out a: ]

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. ]

[ as shiro steps out of sight, keith hums his agreement, pulls the blanket tighter around himself, and draws his back up into the fetal position. family has been a sore subject for a long time, with keith all too aware that as far as blood relations go, he's functionally alone in the universe. ever since shiro stepped into his life though, keith hasn't had much reason to resent that.

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. ]

[ for the next ten or so seconds, as the initial jump scare levels off, shiro’s mind is a barrage of scattered observations. one, he thinks he may very well skip the logs in the fireplace and simply burn the bed instead. two, there are rapid footsteps closing in on his location and he really ought to tell keith to stay back. three, perhaps this man deserved his fate for having such a nauseating taste in interior design. that last one is absentminded and not at all serious, just a there and gone thought as he turns his gaze to the boy standing just inside the doorway, a tacky unicorn figurine held in his hands.

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? ]

[ there are quite a lot of dead bodies in town. not only has keith seen them with his own eyes, but he's also been dealing with the unpleasant implications of mass death in this town they're currently trapped in. nothing about finding another corpse inside a cabin should come as a surprise, and yet, having a specific face to go with the abstract concept of this home's owner is instantly jarring.

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. ]

[ keith is right… and yet, he is also so very wrong. yes, the corpse is a big draw of attention because it is so out of place and weird, if not horrifying. that’s all, though. a dead guy isn’t going to change or suffer more. the state of that reveal can be put on pause and be revisited at any point in time tonight. keith on the other hand is – thankfully – very much alive and as such, any risk to his health takes precedence over everything and anything.

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.

[ there is nowhere to actually run in this cabin, and going outside without a stitch of clothing on simply isn't an option. even so, putting space between himself and shiro is the key imperative in the peak of keith's mortification.

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?

[ for the record, shiro does not find any bit of his best friend hiding under a blanket endearing. he will, however, take this opportunity to observe that row of toes sticking out of the bottom. one, two, and right onto ten, shiro counts them off in his head and is relieved to find that none of them are a concerning color of purple.

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?

[ under the safety of the blanket, keith curls into himself a little tighter, hands cupping between his legs for extra protection from shiro's judging eyes. or at least, that's what keith assumes shiro is doing anyway. the confusion in his best friend's voice really doesn't help the mental image.

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?

[ this isn’t going well. on the bright side? at least keith is determined to bundle himself. granted, shiro is still of the mind that a blanket won’t be nearly enough to get keith through his near-freezing, but it’ll buy shiro some necessary time as he reworks his plan. his plan that now doesn’t involve the bedroom with its fireplace and occupied bed. at least this living space has a fireplace as well. one that he should start filling with logs, yeah?

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. ]

[ hidden under the blanket, keith bites the inside of his lip as he listens to the apology. guilt prickles uncomfortably, upon realizing that he had no reason to assume shiro had any ill-intent. mortified as he had been, it seems like a pretty pathetic excuse for snapping at his best friend.

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. ]

[ as difficult as the situation is, the answer is an easy one. ]

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. ]

[ nothing. they're doing nothing about the fact that there's a corpse in the bedroom next door that's been there for fuck knows how long and yet ... keith cam't honestly say that he's surprised. milton has been littered with corpses from the moment they arrived here, and desensitization to some degree is inevitable. same thing with the war back home.

but it's not just what they have to accept about this freezing town that suddenly feels like a cage, it's keith himself. none of this bullshit of following a beautiful monster and nearly getting eaten alive would have happened if keith had only been smarter. different from who he is.

keith lets out a deep sigh, letting the weight of that thought sink into every neuron in his brain before lifting the blanket up over his head and wrapping it around himself like a cloak. he doesn't dare meet shiro's eye as he gets to his feet, shuffling stiffly to crouch low and help move the logs toward the fireplace with one hand. ]

First break all day.

[ keith furrrows his brow, s heavily preoccupied. in the end, his next subject change isn't all that elegant either. ]

.... I'm sorry. I keep messing up today. You didn't deserve me snapping. Seems like you've been doing a lot of caring about me and I just... keep thowing it back in your face.

[ shiro’s plan of keeping his gaze squarely on the task at hand only lasts until there’s a shifting of couch cushions. hand movements come to a pause and then he’s staring, foregoing any subtly as he openly tracks keith’s path to him. shiro wants to say he’s above hovering, because he knows how grating that can be, even if it is entirely warranted. thus far, he hasn’t done a spectacular job of giving keith much of any breathing room to decompress from the horror that happened in the basin. he is just beginning to try in taking a step back… but now keith is right beside him, grabbing at logs to help build this fire and…

god, shiro forgets about the fire and is stuck watching keith’s hands, brain hardwired to zero in on any sort of stiffness there. how functional are his hands? does he find it difficult to move his fingers? they’re still likely chilled to the bone, right?

… i’m sorry.

the apology disrupts his scrutiny. lifting his gaze to keith’s face, he finds that – thankfully – keith isn’t looking at him; still, he schools his expression anyway. drawing a silent breath, he exhales with a little more force, and then eases into a smile that doesn’t quite excel past the threshold of bittersweet. ]

Water under the bridge.

[ once upon a time, he would’ve ruffled this boy’s hair to release the palpable tension between them. as it is, keith’s hair has flecks of frost in it, the choppy ends of it made sharper into frozen points. he has half a mind to ruffle his hair solely to break the eerie reminder of how close keith came to a watery grave… but he gets no higher than his shoulder. hand there for no more than the two seconds required to squeeze, shiro assures: ]

It’s already forgiven.

[ – before letting go and climbing to his feet. the matches are on the wood burning stove and so, he sets off to retrieve them. perhaps he should leave the conversation as such: it’s finished and dealt with. the tension remains however and something in shiro curdles under the suffocating weight of it, his mouth running on what is meant to be a tease that misses the mark entirely. ]

We’ll be even soon, anyway. There’s a lot wrong with my body. [ it’s too self-demeaning. too revealing. it’s his coping mechanism. he doesn’t want to strip down, but he’s committed himself to the duty of it, anyway. if he points out the ballooning elephant in the room beforehand though, the whole experience won’t be as terrible, right? ] I’ll try not to be too snippy if you look.

[ speaking of looking, shiro is back to not looking at keith as he retrieves the matches and returns back to the fireplace. ]

[ water under the bridge. already forgiven. it's just like shiro to forgive him so easily, when keith knows he's done nothing but catastrophically fuck up all day. he doesn't deserve that compassion -- the mere fact that he's getting irrationally irritable that shiro isn't rightfully pissed is further proof of that, isn't it?

chest feeling tighter by the second, keith desperately swallows down yet another undeserved outburst, practically hurling wood into the fireplace to vent his anger elsewhere.

but of course, shiro has to choose right then to say something so ludicrous that it makes keith turn abruptly, teeth digging into the inside of his lip to keep it from fucking trembling. ]

What do you mean there's a lot wrong with your body?

[ the question is laughable. a prosthetic arm and a large facial scar are obvious signs that something has gone wrong. beyond that, shiro's muscular dystrophy is a specter haunting the future. keith knows all this, but emotion clogs his throat as his expression fractures with grief. ]

Shut up, you're fucking perfect.

[ shiro doesn’t actually want to get into it. he doesn’t want, nor does he need, to be cheered up about the utter destruction of his body. that comment right there? in no way was that a ploy to fish out some compliments. it’s as much a warning as it is a redirect, and now, with it executed, shiro is ready to barrel past this without further comment.

… stupid of him to think it’d be that easy, though, huh?

shiro likes the bite to keith’s voice – shut up – but he hates how his expression doesn’t match it in the slightest. at least they’re away from those damn apologies, something that shiro has no desire to bring back by uttering his own. so no, he doesn’t take back what he said and no, he doesn’t outwardly acknowledge that grief-stricken look. he forces a puff of breath that attempts to become a laugh, but doesn’t clear the exhausted smile he forces around it. ]

Okay. I’ll be quiet.

[ he returns to his original spot, crouching down as he fiddles with the matches. luckily, this cabin came equipped with a small stockpile of kindling, as well as discarded paper, both things essential in lighting a pile of logs. ]

I need to focus for this next part anyway.

[ and so he situates all those things in the fireplace. failing to ignite with the first match but succeeding on the second, shiro gets the kindling lit and makes sure it takes to the pile before closing the screen. ]

[ okay. i'll be quiet. the hell kind of response is that? sure, keith told shiro to shut up, but this isn't what he meant, nor is it what he wanted. never mind the obvious contradiction, the need to yell is almost painful as a band of pressure wraps around his head and throat. as far as keith is concerned, the matter isn't settled and it takes wringing every drop of patience that his mind has not to erupt in protest as shiro works to get the kindling lt and the fire started.

mercifully, it isn't a long wait. with the fireplace lit and the screen closed, shiro barely gets a second to enjoy his small triumph before keith grabs his metal forearm, and leans in, still wearing that same distraught expression. ]

I take it back. Don't shut up. Tell me... are your muscles okay?

[ again, it feels ridiculous to ask considering shiro hauled him all the wyay up here from the base. ibut it's easy to forget that shiro's strength is in defiance of his illness. all the more easy to forget, when the shiro from his own reality no longer seemed to need those muscle stiulators. keith never asked directly, hoping that the altean healing pods may have had something to do with that, but thisthis shiro never had that. just whatever horrors the galra put him through to make him their so-called champion.

desperate not to be dismissed, keith further pulls himself into shiro's orbit by grabbing his other arm and almost hauls himself right into his best friend's lap. immediately, the blanket starts to slip from his shoulders, making keith flush as he quickly releases the prosthetic arm to keep the blanket pinched shut around his chest. it's a bit late for modesty though, and after missing just one beat, he carries on rather determined. ]

I really need to know.

i am merely being accurate??

... i suppose i cannot argue w that

c:

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that edit reason made me sputer LOL

IT'S WHAT YOU SAID!

YES WELL!!!

i rest my case

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i cannot believe this is happening

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.